*
The foul smell still lingered on through the next day even after every little bit of the zombie was cleaned up and burned. As far as Alma knew, no one else had seen the corpse stumble into the Yellow Moon, but there was gossip flying about town that the dead had walked the night before. Someone might have seen the thing in the streets, but she was sure there would have been more of a ruckus before it actually got there if they did.
Alma was in no mood to stay around the hotel that day and instead took Coyote for a ride. Past high noon, the sky was beginning to cloud up and in the distance the rain was coming. She turned her horse back towards town, cutting through the area where the new settlers had set up temporary shelters.
“Miss Alma!”
She twisted around in her seat at the voice, stopping her mount and sighing to herself.
“Miss Alma! Good afternoon to ya.” Hutchinson jogged up, smiling a broad grin at her.
“Afternoon, Hutchinson. Sorry I haven’t gotten back that dress to yer daughter yet. I’ll have it to ya tomorrow ’fore I leave.”
“Oh no, you don’t have to worry ’bout the dress at all. Pearl already has a new one.” He shook his head and then gave her a disappointed look. “Yer leavin’ so soon? We were still hopin’ to have ya over fer dinner one evening. I would suggest tonight, but it looks like it’s gonna storm. I won’t ask ya to come huddle in the tent with us.”
“Thanks fer the offer, but ya know I don’t like to stay in one place too long. The stagecoaches come in t’morrow morning, so I’ll be goin’ off with ’em. This town has too many strange hap’nings fer me.” She added, just curious as to what the settlers out here had heard.
“Oh yes, the zombies.” Hutchinson lowered his voice saying that and made the sign of the cross. “We go to church every day. We’ve not had any problems here in the tents and from what I heard, they never had any. But we keep our faith strong always. It’s in town proper that the zombies seem to be focusin’ on.” He moved a little closer to Coyote, keeping his voice low as he spoke. “My wife did say she saw a phantom last night when she went out to use the privy, in the distance, walkin’ from town to east. She was right shaken up ’bout it too.”
“A phantom? Did she say what it looked like?” Alma’s body tensed. Her mind whirled around. The church was in the south-west section of town. The only cemetery was beside it.
“Well, not that she could see so clearly in the dark, but she could tell it had def’nitely been a man and it moved real queerly too.” Hutchinson gave a little shiver and then crossed himself again.
The rain pattered upon them. Alma looked up as thunder rolled in the distance and lightning streaked the sky. “I suppose I should be gettin’ back to my hotel. Take care, Hutchinson.”
“You as well, Miss Alma. God be with you!” He called after her as she rode away at a trot.
By the time she got back to the Yellow Moon, it was raining so hard she could barely see five feet in front of her. Alma hustled Coyote into the dry stable and rushed back inside the hotel herself. Berry was still at the table reading and having a smoke.
“Where’s Mabrey? I need to speak with him.
Berry looked up from his papers and gave her a small smile. “Will’s out doin’ his job, Miss Alma. Why don’t you come in and get in some dry clothes? Then you can sit by the fire and make sure you don’t get ill from bein’ out in that storm.”
Alma walked determinedly farther into the room, leaving a wet trail as she dripped along the way. “I’m not worried ’bout getting’ sick. I need to talk to the sheriff. It’s ’bout—” She glanced in the direction of the other man and then back to Berry. “Our guest from last night.”
Coughing as if the smoke had snatched his throat, Berry seemed like he was about to fall out of his seat. “W-what about our guest, Miss Alma?”
“I’d rather not say right now. I want to tell Mabrey and him bein’ sheriff, he can then go take care of it.”
“I really don’t know when he’ll be back… and he could be anywhere in town right now.” Berry shuffled his papers. She caught a glimpse of the city map and a few of the surrounding area. X’s marking spots as if he were a pirate tagging where the treasure was hidden.
“Will he be comin’ back though?” Alma asked through her teeth.
“Yes, of course, of course.” He nodded, unwilling to meet her eyes now.
Alma shook her head and went to stand over by the fire and let herself dry off while waiting for Mabrey to return. She took off her hat and her trench coat, brushing off the water and mud. The storm rumbled outside, and it didn’t sound as if it was going to stop any time soon. She ignored the other man and was halfway to drying off when the door suddenly swung open. Mabrey darted in out of the rain and shut it firmly behind him.
“Will, glad to see that you’re all right. What’s it like out there? Any end to the storm on the horizon?” Berry did not rise from his seat.
Mabrey shook his head and gave a heavy sigh. “No end in sight. And we’re floodin’. Damn it, I don’t know why, but we’re floodin’ this side of town. The water’s almost over the porch out there.”
“What do ya mean? The river’s a goodly distance away. It can’t have rained that much.” Now Berry stood up from his table, hurrying over to look out one of the windows.
“It has and it’s going to continue to rise. We’re gonna need to get everyone out of here and up to the other side of town.” Will said. “It’s just not natural.” He shook his head again.
“Zombies.” The old man by the fire whispered.
“Now, Mr. Farrell.”
“It’s them zombies. Gonna kill us all.” Farrell’s hands shook even as they held the mug.
“Whatever the hell it is, I know where they’re comin’ from.” Alma had already put on her trench and slicked back her wet hair to pop on her hat. She looked directly to the sheriff. “They’re comin’ from the east. Comin’ from Sanborn’s.”
“What are you talkin’ about, Miss Alma?” Mabrey’s brows furrowed, but both Berry and he stepped forward to hear what she was going to say.
“People saw something out that way. Nothin’ happened there, right? Everythin’ happens this side of town, not Sanborn’s. It’s his doin’, I bet.”
“We can’t go ’round accusin’—”
“You think ’bout it fer a minute. Nothin’ he owns has suffered, but all his competitors have had losses. Those that he favors—like Carla Burris—don’t have troubles. He drags that poor boy ’round with him as if he’s got somethin’ to lose if he don’t. And a man that thinks himself so fine like Sanborn doesn’t wear chicken feathers.” Alma folded her arms.
“Chicken feathers?” Mabrey blinked.
“Yeah, seems no one takes notice or no one cares to say anythin’. He wears them right out on his jacket.” Alma tapped her own chest. “I’ve been ’round and seen a lot. Chicken feathers only have two uses that I know of: fillin’ pillows and fer dark magic.”
The two men stood there for a moment, letting the information sink in. Then, in an eerie sort of unison, they turned to look at each other.
“It makes sense, you know. Sanborn’s the type to make a deal with the devil.” Berry gave the sheriff a knowing look.
“Well, if it’s true, how will we know? I can’t arrest him on suspicion alone.”
“Dealin’ wit’ the Devil.” Farrell muttered. “Check the altar.” He drew closer to the fire as if it could keep away any zombies and the rising flood waters outside.
“I don’t think—” Will was cut off by the man beside him.
“I don’t know ’bout altars and whatnot, but there has to be some evidence and I betcha it’s at his manor. You need to get out there right now and find out what’s going on.” Berry gathered his papers swiftly, holding them to his chest with one arm.
Mabrey glanced out the window uncertainly. “I should really be gettin’ people to evacuate in case it does flood more here.”
“I’ll do
it. Don’t worry!” Berry assured him, heading to the coat rack to show he was serious about it.
“No, John. You can’t be goin’ out in this storm. Joanna’ll have my hide if I let ya.”
Tired of them dancing about, Alma marched to the door. “Come on, Mabrey. I’ll come with ya. Let’s get goin’ before we have to swim there.”
“Miss Alma, you don’t have—” Mabrey caught himself and then gave a nod. “Thank you fer yer help. If we take the horses up the back street, we’ll get to higher ground faster, but it’ll still be slow goin’.”
“We’ll get there fast ’nough ’cause I’m bettin’ it isn’t as wet over there as it is here.”
Alma wasn’t wrong either. As the pair went up to the east side and left Amarillo to go out the little way towards the Sanborn manor, the force of the rain lessened. It was still pouring, but not so intensely as it was in the west.
“This isn’t right.” The sheriff muttered to himself.
They arrived at the front of the manor and only a few windows were alight indicating life inside. Alma gave Coyote a pat as she left him with the other gelding by the side of the porch and followed her companion up as he knocked on the door. It was almost immediately pulled open by a petite woman in a frilly dress.
“Oh, Sheriff! Excuse me, I was expectin’ my husband.”
“It’s all right, Mrs. Sanborn. We’re lookin’ fer him, in fact. Does that mean he should be back any time now?” Mabrey gave her a polite nod, but his expression was fully serious.
“Yes, yes, of course, please do come in out of the rain. It’s dreadful out there.” She stepped aside, motioning them inside. She smiled at Alma. “I do believe you must be Alma Sweeney. I’m Virginia Sanborn. Please be welcome in our home.”
“Nice to meet ya.” Alma dipped her head to the lady.
“Mrs. Sanborn, we’ve been havin’ some trouble in town of late and I’m gonna need to have a look ’round here a bit. Do ya mind or would ya prefer to wait fer yer husband?” Will was always the courteous one.
Virginia looked a bit baffled but gave him a little nod. “Of course, I don’t mind, Sheriff. Wouldn’t ya like to get warm and dry by the fire first? I don’t think Henry will be much longer.”
“Thanks, but it is pretty late as it is and we don’t want to be keepin’ you up all night. Please do send yer husband to us when he does get in.”
Alma followed Mabrey, not exactly knowing what to look for. They did a quick tour of the upstairs first, but there wasn’t anything conspicuous other than the fact Sanborn had a wardrobe as big as his wife’s. On the main floor, they took a little more time in the study, but unless something was well hidden, they found nothing.
“Surely there has to be somethin’.” Mabrey said more to himself than anyone else. He led the way from there through the dining room and into the kitchen. There was a low fire burning in the hearth and a gray haired slave sitting on a stool, slowly coaxing peas out of their pods into a bowl.
“Good evenin’ to ya.” Mabrey dipped his head to the woman and went looking through the cupboards. Alma checked out the pantry, but found nothing. The slave quietly nodded, watching them out of the corner of her eyes.
Mabrey stood in the middle of the room and heaved a great sigh. “There’s nothin’. I don’t know what to do.” He noticed a door partially shadowed by the cabinets. “What’s that there? Does that go to the cellar?”
The dark skinned woman looked at him and hesitated before she said anything. By the shimmering in her eyes, there was a lot going on behind them. “Yes, sir. That there’s the cellar.” She said nothing more, but her hands were frozen over the bowl with a pod half-opened.
The sheriff went right for the door and lit a lantern that was on the wall beside it to carry down. Yet when he opened the door, there was already a faint light coming from its depths. He made a little curious noise and headed down the stairs.
Alma didn’t watch him but the old woman at the counter. She had been around enough people to recognize fear, no matter how much it was hidden. There was fear there and there was something else. A pleading for something to happen. The way the slave’s hands trembled said it all. Alma turned and went down the narrow stairs after Will.
There were shelves with canned foods, burlap sacks, and barrels. Against one wall, there was a large wine rack, but it was from the opposite end of the cellar that the light was coming from along with a low continuous muttering.
Alma’s hand rested upon the handle of her Colt as she followed Mabrey over to the half-concealed corner of the cellar. There they came upon the altar, high as a grandfather clock. It surprised her more that what Farrell had said was right. Whether it be an altar to the Devil or not, she didn’t care.
In front of it, a slave woman with her eyes wide in a trance-like state continued to mutter something and sway slowly from side to side. The snake upon her lap hissed in their direction, but she didn’t seem to notice their presence.
Before either could do anything, there was a racket from upstairs and heavy footsteps pounding down into the cellar. They turned around to face Henry Sanborn with a gun pointed at the head of the small boy.
Perhaps the woman had been pretending not to notice the sheriff and Alma, but she most certainly noticed when her master came down. She gasped, eyes watering with tears as she went to her knees. “Joshua!”
“Mama!” The boy squeaked, flailing in the man’s tight grasp. His left hand knocked against Sanborn’s chest and sent the feathers fluttering unnoticed to the floor.
“Mr. Sanborn, what’s—” Mabrey looked almost as baffled as Virginia had, but he managed to keep more of a hold on himself even as he was interrupted.
“You shouldn’t have come down here and interfered, Sheriff. I have no want to kill anyone. Never had. But circumstances seem to be different now.” Sanborn jabbed his Derringer pointedly against the boy’s head. “Now how ’bout you put down those guns of yours. Nice and slowly.”
Mabrey was already lowering his revolvers to the floor, but Alma stood firmly there for another minute. She could not tell if the bastard was really serious about it or not. It was only the mother’s wail that told her she should put down her gun as well. She leaned down, laying the Colt on the floor.
“Now kick ’em over here.” Sanborn motioned to them and the pair nudged their guns across the packed earthy floor to him. “Now I want ya to kneel down and put yer hands behind yer heads. As I said, I didn’ want to kill anyone, Sheriff.”
“What are you doin’, Sanborn? Did ya send the demons in to ruin John’s business? All the businesses of the men who stood with him?” Mabrey glanced back over at the altar.
“You think I sent those unholy creatures? It was me who the spirits first troubled and me who was smart enough to find the means to protect myself from ’em.” Sanborn gave the kid a little shake as if to make his tears stop.
“This is madness.” Mabrey shook his head, his hands locked behind it. “Let the boy and his mother and Miss Alma go, Sanborn. Let us men talk ’bout this.”
“Now you’re talkin’ madness, Sheriff.” He snorted, mustache moving slightly with it. “The boy’s my leverage. I keep him fine and dandy, and his mama gives me an’ mine protection. None of you will do a thing as long as I have—”
Alma moved like desert lightning. Her hand snaked down into her boot and pulled out her Pepperbox. She shot Sanborn’s left thigh before he could finish his sentence.
His gun went off, but struck as he was, it had swayed to one side and just barely grazed the back of Joshua’s head. The boy and his mother both screamed but were swiftly in each other’s arms sobbing with relief that they were alive. Sanborn fell with a thud to the ground, gripping his injured leg. He howled like a wounded dog.
Mabrey blinked once, shocked by how suddenly everything had just occurred, and then was fast over by Sanborn’s side to help tie off the wound. He glanced at Alma who was already re-holstering her Colt. “You shot him.”
“He was
goin’ to kill us.” She stated with a shrug.
“I would’ve done no such thing!” Sanborn snarled.
“You were goin’ to kill us.” Alma repeated more firmly. “What else would ya done? Couldn’t just keep us here. And ya wouldn’t let us go knowin’ ya set zombies on the town.”
“Watch out who yer accusin’, missy. I’m an important man here. I don’t need no black magic to do my work fer me.” Sanborn sucked in a hissing breath as the sheriff tied his belt tight around his bloody thigh.
Before Alma could say anything more, the slave woman spoke up. “’Tis true, mam. Master Sanborn no had me call up the dead. I only protectin’ these folks. Snakes are fer good hoodoo. Some zombies come our way last night. I sent ’em off. Figured more be comin’ tonight.”
The woman had her child back. She had no motivation for lying. Alma frowned. She’d been sure about Sanborn. “The chicken feathers. Ones he wore on his jacket. They’re fer dark magic.”
“Nay.” The slave stood and held her boy close. “What matters is the will. Feathers’ll hold magic, good or evil.”
It wasn’t Sanborn. Alma felt it like a punch to her gut. And the realization of who was behind it all sent her cursing and scurrying up the stairs.
“Alma!” Mabrey called, but she didn’t slow down. She nearly ran into Virginia and some slaves in the kitchen. They were huddled together, staring at the cellar door.
“Get down there and help yer husband. He might need a surgeon too.” Alma offered no explanation or apology. She ran to the front door and out into the rain.
“Alma!” Mabrey huffed as he caught up. “What’s goin’ on? We should stay and help—”
“Sanborn’s got plenty of help. It’s them others in the west side of town that’ll need help.” She jammed a foot in the stirrup and hopped up onto Coyote’s back. “It’s yer brother-in-law, Sheriff, sorry to say. He’s the one behind all this.”
“What? John?” The sheriff’s brows furrowed and he shook his head. “No, he wouldn’t do such a thing. He couldn’t. I’ve known him fer years.”
“Time’s a wastin’. You comin’ with me or not?” Coyote danced in the mud, his anxiety riling up Mabrey’s horse.
“I’m comin’ iffin’ just to make sure you don’t shoot anyone else.” Mabrey mounted, and they rode back into the heart of the storm.