An Outlaw's Silence (manxman)(second story in The Crane Gang series)

Chapter Thirty-Three

                  

Chapter Thirty-Three

            Wyatt hung onto Zachariah's hand as he stood with his back in Zachariah's chest and Zachariah's arm draped over his shoulder.  They were on the porch of Jeb and Gill's house and Wyatt had yet to hear exactly why and how Zachariah had come to be a dead man.

            He had insisted that he only wanted to have to tell the story once and wanted everyone around to hear it so he wouldn't have to repeat it.

            Eleanor sat at a tiny table with Jane and Preston while Willie smacked at the table and attempted to chew his mother's sombrero.

"Faking your death?" Pete mused, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "Couldn't you come up with something a bit more original?"

            Zachariah chuckled, the sound rumbling against Wyatt's back. "I figured if I was going to live on a ranch full of dead folks, I might as well be a dead folk too."

            Wyatt twisted his neck and looked up at Zachariah. Instantly Zachariah's gaze went to his mouth. 'How much of that newspaper story was true?' Wyatt asked. He had read the article while riding back to the ranch.

            Zachariah shrugged one shoulder, the scars on his cheeks twisting as he smiled down at Wyatt. "I reckon most of it is right—but I don't know what it says word for word."

            "Well then tell us what happened," Jeb encouraged. "The article said those men were dead, are they?"

            "The real dead," Pete spoke up. "Not dead like us."

            Zachariah nodded. "Yeah, they're dead. It took me longer than I thought it would to track them down and corner them so I could kill them. They are dead, I can promise you that, but I took a bullet to the chest."

            Wyatt thought about that new scar low on Zachariah's ribs. "I damn near did die," Zachariah continued. "It took months for me to recover and I paid the doctor to keep quiet about my recovery. He agreed to let me die—at least as far as the public knew. He even put a casket full of rocks in a hole with my name on a wooden cross above it."

            "Are you sure they're dead?" Eleanor whispered, her wide brown eyes shining.

            Zachariah held Wyatt a little tighter and Wyatt gave his hand a squeeze, knowing the man was struggling with guilt he continued to carry. "I'm sure, Eleanor," Zachariah insisted. "What's left of them is rotting in the desert. I managed to drag myself onto my horse and get to a town. It was night and no one but the doc ever knew I was locked in the backroom."

            "Well I for one am glad you're back," Jane announced cheerfully. "Poor Wyatt has been lost without you."

            Zachariah shifted his feet and replied with an awkward clearing of his throat. "I'm glad to be back too, ma'am."

            Pete laughed while Jeb and Gill chuckled. "Don't call me ma'am," Jane grumbled. She adjusted her sombrero and tossed her shoulders back. "Do I look nearly old enough to be a ma'am yet?"

            Pete nudged Zachariah's ribs with his elbow and leaned toward him. "The correct answer to that question is yes," he mock-whispered.

            Jane threw a baby rattle at him, catching him in the chest. "Kiss my ass, Pete," she snorted.

            Pete grinned and shook the rattle with a wink. "With pleasure."

            Willie clearly was not happy to see his rattle being abused. He let out a squeal and reached out a chubby hand. "Dada!" he hollered.