Fire Wind (5 page)

“Not at all my friend!” Thaddeus said
greedily, as he reached out and grabbed up the shot glass of
whiskey and brought it to his lips to slurp noisily at it.

I missed the numbing affect the alcohol
would’ve had, although in truth it would have taken most of the
bottle to forget for a moment and enjoy peace from my memories of
the past. Now was not the time to drink though, if there ever was a
time for that.

I stood up to leave and noticed Thaddeus
staring moodily at the chipped surface of the table. Perhaps not
the happy type after all.

I turned to leave and that’s when I saw her.
She’d sat off in a booth to my rear out of view.

Her eyes were calculation itself and her
beauty was far from the usual sordid prettiness common to these
saloon environments. She smiled and I sensed the predatory feeling
I had felt before all over again.

She crooked a finger at me and I found myself
rather hesitant to move forward toward her. There was just
something different about this woman.

She was to fine in appearance for the place
and yet she seemed at home here. I walked to her booth feeling
every bit the lackey for obeying her command, but I was
curious.

“Welcome to my establishment Marshal. I trust
that you have found all in order?”

Everything about her was eye-catching and yet
I found her off-putting. Why was that?

Forcing myself to nod I said, “You run a
tight ship. I’ve noticed only a minimal amount of dealer fraud on
the part of your blackjack dealer and the whiskey smells genuine
and not the creation of a bar of lye soap dropped into a bucket of
swamp acid.”

She laughed out loud. She had very white
teeth.

Smiling again she showed me all of them as
she said, “You do paint a rather grim picture of establishments in
my profession. I do hope you come to enjoy yourself here anyway. I
have a lot to offer.”

Her eyes drifted down me and then back up to
mine and there was little to be not guessed at what she meant by
that.

I started backing away, “Alas I am a man of
limited means and what money I will make, should I survive, is best
put elsewhere.”

She shook her head, as her dark brown hair
coasted about her bare shoulders, “Your credit is good here
Marshal. Come as often as you like. Play cards, have drinks on the
house, and enjoy all my girls have to offer at no charge.”

“What if I prefer to enjoy something more
expensive?” I asked suggestively letting my eyes run down her and
all that the red dress partially exposed and yet still hinted
at.

She laughed again and with that predatory
look back to her eyes she said, “Now that Marshal will cost
you.”

Meeting her eyes I said, “I thought as
much.”

I turned and left the saloon quickly. The
cool air outside on the street was a welcome relief.

I looked back at the double doors of the
saloon and shivered. I’d rather cuddle up with the snake that had
bitten me then stroke my hand down that woman’s form!

There was just something about her that said
playing with a serpent would be safer than what she held secret
behind her hard to read eyes. I walked away in deep thought as I
realized that I had gotten my answer from earlier.

I’d had my first offer of money, booze, and
women. The staple delights of most men in these Western lands. No
thanks.

The temporary forgetfulness of alcohol was
never enough and money beyond fulfilling the necessities of life,
only ran to acquiring more trouble for oneself and life was already
full of that. As for women……….I was kind of weird in the fact that
I preferred a woman that was exclusively mine and no one
else’s.

Those kind of women were rare. I’d never met
one yet, which included the wife that I had once had. Memories
beckoned and I found myself caught up in them, when a commotion up
the street drew my attention.

“Elizabeth! I’m sorry! Please stop! We need
to talk!”

A young woman of the decently dressed sort
and not at all hard to look at hurried past me. Edgar followed
along close behind.

Reaching out I arrested his flight of pursuit
after the woman. He tugged to be free and angrily said, “Let go
Marshal! That’s my fiancé and I need to….”

“Women respect strength Edgar.” I said
cutting in before adding, “Going after her and continuing to beg
does not serve you well my friend.”

“But I hurt her feelings! I need to make it
up somehow!” Edgar protested.

“No doubt you have blundered, but such is the
way with men when it comes to women. You’ve no doubt apologized a
thousand times already, but I tell you now Edgar if she will not
forgive you then she’s not worth having.”

He stared at me his eyes continually blinking
with surprise. No longer did he struggle to be free and so I let go
of him.

Glancing after the escaped focus of all his
fantasies Edgar said, “Perhaps you’re right.”

“I know I’m right Edgar. Now I ask you this,
what are you going to do when one day you find out that she’s lied
to you about something of importance?”

Momentarily looking, as if in lack for words,
he managed to say after a moment, “Why, I’ll forgive her.”

I patted him on the back, “I hope you do. If
you don’t you’ll end up like me and that is something to be avoided
my friend.”

I left him there staring after me. I’d
revealed too much with that last statement. It was best to tell no
one anything of oneself.

It was better to keep everyone distant,
because the chances of being hurt were far less if one never
allowed oneself to care deeply for another. The side effect of that
however was a life with little left worth living for.

I climbed the jailhouse steps and moving
inside I locked the door and turned one lantern up higher. Picking
the lantern up I went toward the cellblock and snatched the old
Bible up off the corner of the desk as I went.

Reaching the first cell I entered it and
hooking the catch of the lantern on the overhead bars I lay down
and cracked open the Bible in search of the book of 1st Timothy in
the New Testament. I wanted to know more. I already had forgotten
so much over the years.

Tonight I truly had seen a gateway of
darkness open up. The saloon keeper’s eyes haunted me yet and I
didn’t know why. Finding the verse the old indian had mentioned I
read,
“For the love of money is the root of all evil: which
while some coveted after, they have erred from the faith, and
pierced themselves through with many sorrows.”

How true that was. I continued reading and
the torment that I had felt from earlier ceased, until eventually I
slipped off into peaceful rest.

Abrupt knocking at the door of the jail had
my feet falling to the floor and my eyes opening in startlement.
Blinking I looked out the window of the jail cell only to see that
it wasn’t yet dawn.

Getting to my feet I made my way out of the
cell bay and to the door of the jail and opened it partially. An
older man with hair graying at the temples stood waiting in the dim
light outside.

I opened the door all the way and took my
hand off my gun, “Can I help you?” I asked not overly enthused
about having been awakened so early.

The man before me looked me up and down and
then asked me a question that I would never have expected at this
hour of the morning, “How do you feel about indians?”

Blinking I regarded the man with new
awareness and cautiously I asked, “How should I think of them?”

“As your equal.” The man said without
hesitation.

It was a new thing for me, but I was willing
to turn over a new leaf, “Okay, I’ll agree to that. Now can you
explain what any of this has to do with waking me up?”

The man’s face was suddenly very tired
looking and glancing away I saw his features starkly outlined in
profile against the early gray light of dawn. He spoke, “Last night
at the edge of the town a sacrifice was performed. A satanic
sacrifice. An indian child is dead.”

The man’s words impacted me strongly and I
stepped out of the jail not bothering to get my hat and asked,
“Which way?”

The man pointed and I took off in that
direction with the older man close behind.

*****

I saw the form lying still on the ground. A
few candles arrayed in the sand around the body still fluttered
weakly against the morning breeze.

As I drew closer I noticed lines drawn in the
sand around the body. Strangely there were no footprints leading to
the actual body. There were no footprints of any kind at all. It
was as if the surrounding sand had been wiped smooth like warm
butter giving way to the passage of a knife.

I was way out of my league here as I knew
nothing of the symbolism involved in the sacrifice, but to tell it
simple I just didn’t care. I kicked through the lines to kneel down
by the body of a boy of about ten or so.

The boy was cut up all over, but most notably
his heart had been removed. For all the damage done there was no
blood on the sand. It was almost as if all the blood had been
sucked dry from his body before he’d been cut up.

Staring hard at the boy I tried to understand
why anybody would do something like this. Looking around I noticed
that we were not too far from the church. In fact the way the body
had been laid out was as if positioned in opposition to the
church.

I glanced to the man that that knelt in the
sand across the boy from me, “You the pastor?”

He nodded still looking at the boy.

“Why would someone do this?” I asked
helplessly, even though I’d seen far worse sights in my life then
the sight of this destroyed young life.

The Pastor looked to me, “You have the look
of a man who’s come through war. Have you?”

I nodded.

“Then you can understand there is no
explanation of why something like this should ever happen. This boy
is a casualty of war. A war not fought with guns, but one that goes
on the same between good and evil.”

I shook my head as anger burned brightly,
“Reverend I don’t know what kind of war you speak of, but this I
can tell you, whoever did this is going to pay!”

I stood up to go, but the Pastor caught my
hand, “This isn’t a war won with a pistol Marshal!”

I pulled my hand free, “It’s the only way I
know how so it will just have to do!”

I stalked off to do what I wasn’t sure. I
heard him call out behind me, “Marshal I’m glad to see you’re a man
that cares. I will be praying for you.”

I shut his words out as I stormed off to
where I had last seen the old indian the night before. It was
getting more on toward daylight when I reached the spot.

“All right where are you at? Come out
now!”

I looked around, but saw nothing. That is
almost nothing. As I turned about my eyes connected with the
wide-open eyes of a woman busy at work kneading dough. We stared at
each other awkwardly through the glass window of the house for a
moment.

I raised my hand awkwardly to her and hurried
on down the street with the sure knowledge that she thought I was
crazy. Eventually I ran out of boardwalk and when I did there he
was before me.

Pointing a finger at him I accused, “Did your
people do this?”

He looked at me askance, “When you came upon
me, who was shooting at whom?”

I combed my shaking fingers through my hair,
“A woman that doesn’t exist, exotic snakes, dire warnings of
gateways of evil and now child sacrifice! I don’t understand any of
this! What does God want from me? I left off serving Him years
ago!”

“And yet He is near. You can find the end
that you’ve sought for years in this town if you want to Taran or a
beginning to something far grander.”

“What do you mean?” I barked out in anger, as
I turned to face him.

His face was serious as he said, “Taran if
you approach the job you have to do in this town with just yourself
for backup you will not survive. I suggest you learn to deal with
the past that haunts you yet and face the future with renewed faith
and an attitude of prayer.”

“Why?”

“Because your Heavenly Father would rather
have the Taran of old than this embittered shell of a man that
you’ve let yourself become.”

I turned away and pressed my face into the
rough timbered edge of a porch awning post. I heard the indian……
angel…… whatever he was come close.

His hand squeezed warmly at my shoulder,
“Newness of purpose is to be found in this desert of your life.
Don’t let this invitation go by. It may well be your last.”

I nodded in full awareness of that. I turned
but the angel was already gone.

I needed to get out of here, at least away
from the town for a bit.

*****

I went to the stable yard. The stable owner,
a young man that I knew went by the name of Nathan, came to
attention at my approach.

“I need a horse for a couple of hours.”

“No problem sir. I’ve got just the one and
I’ll be back with him in half a second.”

True to his word he led an Appaloosa gelding
that impressed free of the stable barn, only a few short minutes
later.

Mounting up I said, “Collect whatever I owe
you from one of the Town Council members.”

The young man waved my words aside, “Don’t
worry about it. That ain’t my horse. He’s the old Marshal’s horse
and as the Marshal had no will I figure it makes sense enough for
you to have the free use of him being as you are the new Marshal.
All I’ll charge for is the price of feed.”

“Thank you.” I said oddly touched by the
young man’s generosity. It wasn’t often that one came across one of
his age that wasn’t out to make a buck.

I pulled the Appaloosa into the street and
let it go in an energized cantor towards the open desert
beyond.