Death's Horse Throws A Shoe

Part 12

The Dark Rider surveyed the remains of the camp. He had sensed, rather than saw, two people fleeing the camp--or was it three. Try as he might he could not get a good focus on their minds. It was like being fought, but he had never experienced anything quite like it. A few slingers with exceptional strength had put up a decent fight, but all had crumbled under his own considerable power. This was different. There was nothing to get a grip on. It was like there were more than one mind--more than one source of power. His mouth watered at the prospect of consuming that kind of power.

The Rider got off of his horse. His beasts were circling the body of an old Indian, as if waiting for permission and looking expectantly up at their master. He knelt by the torn corpse and reached out his mind towards it. Empty. Whoever had fled the camp had taken the old man's essence with him. His new foe was strong and could be dangerous to his plans.

He stood and wiped his mouth with the sleeve of his black cattle coat. His eyes fell on the still smoldering remains of one of his creations. He kicked at the smoking pieces with his boot. Yes, very strong.

The Rider stood, climbed back on his horse and gave a quick signal with one gloved hand. The two remaining beasts keened and huffed in excitement. They had permission to eat the dead and began to do so with gusto.

Jeb's trail had led him to this camp. He could see signs of at least three people living in the camp. What he did not see was signs of boots or modern equipment, just one horse with shoes and that had fled up into the hills. Had Jeb gone native? Was the old man teaching him the old ways? The Rider wanted Jeb very badly now. His old grudge had a new dimension. He wiped at his mouth again. He could almost taste the power. But it would have to wait. He could not be distracted from his plans now. His destination was several more days to the North and he was running out of time. Jeb would have to wait. If he got stronger in the meantime, then the sweeter his essence would taste.

The beasts had finished their meal and sat waiting for the Rider to tell them what to do while licking the bloody remains from their muzzles.

The Dark Rider kicked his horse and headed due North, only glancing in the direction of Jeb's escape once. North, towards his revenge.

*****

Harris paced around his posh office, a drink in one hand and a cigar in the other--both ignored as he was lost in fretful thought. His well polished boots made no sound on the thick carpeting.

Tired and realizing that the pacing was not actually helping his situation or state of mind, he dropped into his high-backed, leather chair behind a massive mahogany desk.

Harris heard the back door close and footsteps in the hallway. He sat up expectantly. It was not Vance with news, it was Allison and she was in her trousers again. She had been out riding.

"Allison!"

Harris' shout had startled Allison. She turned towards the office door as she stopped at the bottom of the staircase. "Yes, father?"

"Been out riding again have you?" His tone was accusatory.

"I have. I don't recall there being a law against that?"

He haughtiness angered Harris. "It's against my law and in my home, that's all that matters."

Allison turned away angrily and started up the stairs to her room.

"And if I find out," he continued, "that you've been over to that Barrow's place, you'll find that you will never leave this house again."

Just as Harris was finishing his threat, Vance opened the front door and slowly walked in, looking from Harris to Allison and back. Allison humphed, stomped up the stairs, and slammed her bedroom door.

Vance opened the front door farther to admit another man. He was a full head taller than Vance and his face was browned by the sun creating a stark contrast between his cheeks and the whiteness of his great, bushy mustache.

Vance closed the door and motioned for the man to go on into the office. The man's intense eyes never leaving Harris. Had he not been in such a foul mood, he might have been cowed by the stare.

"Mr. Harris, this is Doc Marlow."

Harris had heard the name before. He and his crew had quite a reputation throughout Arizona. They were bounty hunters--very effective bounty hunters--and there were some rumors that they would take other contracts as well. In spite of himself, he was impressed that Vance would be able to find that caliber of man for the job.

He motioned to one of his chairs, "Have a seat, Mr. Marlow."

"Doc."

"Excuse me?"

"Call me Doc."

"Uh, okay. Doc," Harris continued. "I suspect that Vance here has filled you in on the details."

Marlow nodded, still staring.

"And there is no problem?"

Marlow shook his head no.

"Good. Good. Drink?"

Nod.

"Vance, pour the man some whisky." Harris continued as Vance did as bidden. "The only thing to discuss then is your fee."

"Two hundred dollars a day for myself and my men, plus expenses. Each." Marlow punctuated the last statement by draining his glass without so much as a wince.

Harris swallowed hard. It would come out to about a couple of thousand dollars. It was a lot, but it would not break him. He thought about how much money Barrow's land would make him in the long run and smiled. It was a big, cat-eating-the-canary kind of smile.

Harris rose and stuck out his hand. "Deal."

Marlow stood slowly and grasped the outstretched hand. His grip caused Harris' smile change to a grimace, but only briefly.

"Vance will give you the rest of the details. Where Barrow's place can be found and all of that. Start right away." He sat back down, but Marlow did not budge. His eye never leaving Harris'.

"Half now, half when it's done."

Anger now crept onto Harris' face. He stood and walked to his wall safe. Unlocked it with the key on his watch fob and pulled out a stack of bills. He counted out a few and put the rest back, closing the safe.

"Here's five hundred. That should be enough to get you started. You'll get the rest when that son-of-a-bitch, Barrow is dead. Hear?"

Marlow looked down at the money and counted it to himself, paused as if to consider it, then pocketed the money. "It'll be done tonight." He donned his hat, tipped the brim and left the house with Vance trailing along behind.

Harris took a deep breath and fell back into his leather chair. Excitement and relief coursing through his veins. Soon it would all be over. He closed his eyes and took a sip of whisky.