Fire Wind (3 page)

“Oh I see.” I said, although I didn’t.

A speculative gleam came into the man’s eyes,
“What’s even more fascinating is that you are the first survivor of
such a snake attack that I am aware of. Most people die within
seconds.”

I shrugged at the open question for answers
that I saw in his eyes.

“Yes, as I was saying from my analysis of
this snake’s venom I have determined that its impact on the body
unlike that of the venom of a rattlesnake is that of a paralysis of
the nervous system rather than a poisoning of the blood.”

“What you’re talking about is Greek to me.” I
said shaking my head.

My response seemed to garner even more
interest on the doctor’s part, “Greek you say? You must be a
well-traveled man and an educated one at that to know of the land
of Greece.”

“It’s just an expression.” I said looking
away from him.

“That may be. Tell me stranger, your people,
extended family I mean by that, would they happen to hail from the
Appalachian Mountains in the East?”

Looking the man over closely I said, “They
would. Why do you ask?”

Edgar retreated from his interested verbal
probing by saying, “Just a hunch given your last name.”

“What about my last name?”

Edgar had gotten up and opened the door to
the jailhouse. Holding it open he gestured to the outside, “What
say you to getting a bit of fresh air and something to eat?”

I didn’t like him not answering my question,
but the mention of food overwhelmed everything else. I got to my
feet and headed for the door.

Passing through it we began to make our way
down the upraised boardwalk. A sudden sensation of nakedness had me
feeling at my side for my gun.

“It’s back at the jail. Do you need it?”

“No, I’ll be fine.” I said, but the truth was
I felt naked without it.

On the heels of the revelation of my lack of
a gun I remembered that I no longer had my horse and without the
saddle bags it bore I was stone flat broke.

“I don’t have any money to pay you or buy
food with.”

Edgar waved my statement away, “No matter.
The mystery of your survival is payment enough to satisfy my
penchant need for discovery for many months to come.”

The man made no sense and yet I liked the
affable nature that he had about him. It didn’t sit well with not
being able to pay my way though.

Sitting down in the town’s café I found
myself the source of attention of almost everyone in the room. I
nodded to them and for the most part that seemed to invoke the
response of receiving the same back from them and the return to
their own business.

The door of the café opened and a tall
middle-aged man that had a presence largely brought about by his
size of stature stepped in. Seeing Edgar and I he headed straight
for our table and extended a big hand to me, “Welcome to Orlaca!
I’m the blacksmith and when misfortune calls the undertaker of our
small community.”

I took the man’s hand and met his iron grip
with all the strength I could muster of my own rightly figuring he
was the type of man who liked to crunch others hands by way of
asserting his dominance. It had been fine as a boy, but now I
didn’t care for that game anymore.

The man looked at me approvingly before
releasing my hand and asking Edgar, “Mind if I join you?

“No, have a seat Thaddeus. Taran Collins this
is Thaddeus Smith.”

I nodded cordially as the big man pulled up a
chair and sat down. The atmosphere was getting a little close, as
by nature I am a private individual, and the close proximity of
others at the table was growing wearisome.

A kindly looking woman arrived at the table
with a rustle of skirts and began pouring cups of coffee, “Well now
look what the doc drug in. Ya do look in the need of some fattening
up. Just be a moment and I’ll be back with some fiddles to do the
job of welcoming you back to the land of the living.” She said, as
she gave me a good-natured smile before hurrying off.

“That kind lady is the Widow O’Brien.”
Thaddeus said before turning his eyes to me to size me up
speculatively.

“So Taran where are you headed for?” Thaddeus
asked.

Putting my coffee cup down I said, “No place
in particular. Not anywhere for a while seeing as I lost my horse
and have no money. Are there any jobs to be had in this town?”

Edgar and Thaddeus shared a glance before
Edgar said, “Well there is one I think you would be uniquely
qualified for. You see we need a Marshal. What do you think?”

“Aye what do you think?” Thaddeus commented
boisterously as well.

Looking between the two I asked in a measured
out tone, “Why do you think I’m uniquely qualified for the job? You
don’t know me.”

“Ah Taran there be more ways of knowing what
a man’s about then by what he says and the look about you is all of
one that spells out confidence. Ya have the look of a man that can
get the job done every time. Don’t you think so Doctor?”

“Oh yes I do. A most intriguing man.”

I looked between the two before asking, “Are
there any other jobs?”

“Well I could use some help in the mortuary
business. Have you ever built coffins?”

The food arrived and thankfully I was saved
from having to answer that question. I’d never made a coffin, but
I’d filled too many that at some point I’d lost count.

The food before me disappeared and with it
came the growing realization that I’d like to continue eating.

“How much does the Marshal’s job pay?”

“Forty bucks a month. You get free meals and
any on the job expenses are covered.” Thaddeus said helpfully.

Glancing between the two I asked, “On the job
expenses?”

“Yeah things like bullets and the such.”

I nodded and stared at my empty plate for a
moment before saying, “Okay I’ll do it.”

Thaddeus reached forward with a beaming smile
and slapped my back. He then stood up and addressed the café at
large, “Everyone may I introduce to you your new sheriff, Taran
Collins.”

There were some halfhearted nods and waves of
acknowledgment, which I returned just as weakly.

Thaddeus pulled a watch from his pocket and
exclaimed, “I’m late! I’ll see you later Marshal. Edgar are you
coming?”

Edgar nodded and the two hurriedly left the
café.

I watched the two make their way down the
boardwalk quickly in the direction of the hill that I could see at
the one end of the town. It seemed every Western town sported its
own Boot Hill.

The Widow O’Brien was back with more coffee
that she filled my cup up with and I asked, “Where are those two
off to in such a hurry?”

“Oh there’s to be a funeral today.”

I glanced from the pair of men to her, “Who
died?”

Her mouth quirked to the one side slightly as
she said, “Twould be the former Marshal, whose job you’ve just
taken over. Would you be wanting more to eat now?”

“No, I’m not hungry.”

She nodded and I rose to leave. Giving me a
look she asked, “You do have a gun now don’t you?”

“Yes ma’am and I think I’d better be getting
back to it.”

“Aye I think that would be good.” She said
with a nod.

As I opened the door of the café she called
out, “I do hope you take a liking to your new job. You seem of the
decent sort and we’ve had a hard time keeping a man of the law
about.”

I let the door fall shut behind me and
hurriedly I took off down the boardwalk. Reaching the jail I looked
for the gun I was rarely without and spying my belt slung on the
back of a chair I relaxed.

Pulling my gun free I checked it over and
spun the cylinder. Looking out at the street side window of the
jail I couldn’t but help wonder how I had allowed myself to be
swindled into accepting this job.

I had went willingly and the truth was I
needed the money and coffin making wasn’t to my liking. I holstered
my gun and slung my belt on. Instantly I felt better.

Chapter Four

Clean-up Begun

The door jingled as it closed behind me. The
man I took to be the shop owner looked up from the paperwork laying
before him on the counter.

As I advanced into the room he pushed his
glasses up on his nose and regarded me more closely. His gaze had a
way of taking everything in and I immediately felt respect for the
man far separate from the diminutive physical presentation he
presented the world with.

He couldn’t be much past five feet tall and
other than his balding head he had nothing else distinguishable
about him except for the intelligence of his eyes.

“Can I help you sir?”

“I need a few things.”

The man’s eyes took in my appearance again
and a slight smile reached his thin lips as he said, “Yes, I can
see that.”

Tilting his head to the side he asked,
“You’re the man they brought in that survived the snakebite aren’t
you?”

I nodded.

He closed the ledger before him with a snap
and said, “Well let’s see then, I think a change of clothes are in
order and perhaps some new boots and………”

I held up a hand forestalling him from going
further, “I don’t have money to pay for anything, but I’ve just
been hired on as the Marshal. I’m told the position in addition to
my wage of forty dollars a month comes along with on the job
expenses. I need some bullets and I would like a knife. Can I look
at your selection?”

“Certainly! They’re right over there.” He
said pointing to a display case.

“Thank you. I’ll be back next month to buy
what else I need.” I said, as I went over to the case in
question.

The shop owner moved busily about the store
as I debated over what knife to get. I’d lost my Arkansas toothpick
and I was sorely tempted to get the biggest knife in the case, but
the workmanship of it was shoddy and I couldn’t bring myself to
replace the best knife I’d ever owned with something so
inferior.

It wasn’t practical either. As a Marshal it
would be for the best to have a knife that was more discrete so I
chose a long slim boot knife.

I tapped on the glass and the shop owner came
over. He nodded approvingly and slipped the knife out of the case
and then pulled free another knife as well.

The second knife was quite small and of a
curious design. Its blade was little bigger than an arrow head and
it had a rounded ball of a handle too short to grip a hold of with
the entire hand.

The shop owner pulled it free of its tiny
sheath and demonstrated its application. He made a fist. The
rounded ball of the handle was within his palm, but the blade of
the knife stuck out between his fisted middle two fingers.

Nice! That would make quite the punch.

I took both knives and headed to the main
counter in order to collect my bullets. I came to a stop as I took
in the folded pile of clothes, the pair of new boots, and various
other items all set out on the counter.

I started to protest, but the shop owner
preempted me by saying, “Can’t be having our new Marshal not
looking his best now can we?”

It really hadn’t been a question.

I studied him as he bagged up the items for
me. “You’re taking quite the risk on me being around for a while
seeing as how your last Marshal is being put under today.”

He looked at me again with his implacable
gaze and said, “I’ll take the risk. The names Angus McLean and it’s
been a pleasure to meet you Marshal.”

He held his hand out and I shook it. Taking
the bags I left the store feeling very much in the man’s debt. Of
everyone so far he seemed to respect me the most and I didn’t
intend to disappoint him.

Stepping back out on the boardwalk I made my
way to the wash house just down the street and opened a tab. The
Chinese owner was only too glad to offer the new Marshal a
bath.

*****

The water was cooling off, but the feel of
just water against my skin, after the feeling of being parched
without it still vivid in my memory kept me staying within the
tepid water overly long. The bath had helped to take the residual
sting out of my arm too.

The doors of the wash house busted open and
three men with a jingle of spurs strode into the room. With stated
harshness the leader of the three jerked a finger at me and asked,
“You the new Marshal?”

“One and the same.”

“Well I want to know what you’re going to do
about the squatters that have moved onto my range! The last coward
they had to wear a tin star didn’t do a thing! The gutless wonder!
Now how about it?”

“And your name would be?” I asked calmly.

“Doug Stryker. I own one of the biggest
spreads around Orlaca.”

I nodded, “Well Mr. Stryker I’ll look into it
and I’ll let you know what I find out.”

The man swore viciously and said, “You’ll
look into it right now! Boys pull the tinhorn coward out of that
tub!”

The timbers of the barrel tub shattered and
all three men stumbled about trying to keep their footing as the
sudsy water washed about their legs. Standing up I shoved the two
enforcers towards their master and stooping down I grabbed a hold
of the metal band that had held in the staves of the washtub.

Bringing the wide band of metal up and over
my head I then rammed it down over the heads of the three men. It
was a tight fit and with startled exclamations the men fought
against the metal band that held their arms to their sides and kept
all three of them pressed tightly together.

Cursing they fought against each other in
their bid to be free. Picking up one of the slats of the tub I
proceeded to conk the three foulmouthed individuals on the head and
with startled grunts of pain they fell to the wet floor still bound
together.

I wasn’t done yet though. The three banded
together men were silent party to me picking up three bars of soap,
which I then rammed into their unconscious mouths.