(eng) Mercedes Lackey & Rosemary Edghill by Dead Reckoning

Author:Dead Reckoning [Reckoning, Dead]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER SIX

According to the records kept by the Yell and Cry, the two closest ranches to Alsop were Flatfield and the Lazy J (now Jerusalem’s Wall). White Fox had ridden out before breakfast that morning for Flatfield. He said he wanted to find out what Mister Sutcliffe knew about the local disappearances—and warn him not to send any more drives by way of Alsop. And if Mister Sutcliff could spare a rider, White Fox hoped to send word to Fort Riley as well.

Jett had wanted to be the one to go—this ghost town was making her stir-crazy—but White Fox pointed out that an army scout was likely to get a warmer reception than a suspected outlaw. I suppose he’s right, Jett thought glumly, but it’s been almost a week I’ve been cooling my heels here now, and I am fresh out of patience.

It didn’t help matters at all that Honoria Gibbons of San Francisco had the heart and soul of a schoolmarm—and a tongue hinged in the middle and oiled at both ends, as the saying went around here. She seemed to think that just because Jett didn’t shoot her, Jett was actually interested in hearing every single theory Gibbons had about Br’er Shepherd, The Fellowship of the Divine Resurrection, and zombies.

* * *

“First things first,” Gibbons said, bounding to her feet. “We’ve got a lot to do today.”

“We’ve got what to do today?” Jett demanded. “Dishes?” Gibbons hadn’t even stopped to clear away their breakfast dishes, and Jett had a suspicion that left to herself, Gibbons would simply throw the dirty dishes out after each meal. Even granting that there were plenty of clean dishes and cups in Alsop, it just didn’t seem respectful somehow.

“You do them if you care so much!” Gibbons called over her shoulder. Jett was taller than Gibbons by a good few inches, but she had to hurry to keep up with her.

“Where are you going?” she demanded, even though she knew the answer to that. The only things down at this end of the street were the Post and Telegraph Office and the jail, and she was pretty sure Gibbons wasn’t expecting a letter.

Of course Gibbons didn’t answer. Jett caught up with her just as she opened the door of the jailhouse.

“Phew!” Jett said in revulsion. “We should throw some eau de cologne around in here!” She made a mental note to look for some around Alsop before she came back here again—she could at least soak a neckerchief in it and tie it over her nose.

“Certainly we should not!” Gibbons answered (though she was making an equally disgusted face). “An unknown variable would interfere with my experiment!”

“Exp—? Would you say something that makes sense?” Jett demanded.

“Certainly!” Gibbons said crisply. “Finlay Maxwell didn’t become a zombie by any of the so-called traditional means. He was in perfect health, and yet he dropped dead for no particular reason and rose as a zombie!”

“He was drunk!” Jett said.

“If that was all it took to make a zombie, there’d be thousands of them in every city on Earth,” Gibbons replied inarguably.

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