Bloodlust by P. K. Vandcast

Author:P. K. Vandcast
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: western horror, western suspense, western thriller, western horror novella, alternative history, western paranormal, old west serial killer
Publisher: Jon J. Cardwell
Published: 2016-08-28T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 6

Although they did not ride the horses hard, Cane and his deputy arrived at the Bar Double R quickly. Since Sheriff Behan had not yet arrived, the two dismounted at the ranch hand’s corral. There were no other horses at the corral. The gate was opened wide. Dan and the marshal tied up their horses and made the short walk to the bunkhouse back door.

As the light splashed through the open door, blowflies raced across the room in every direction. The stench of blood and death was overwhelming. Cane pulled out a large handkerchief from his pocket and held it to his nose and mouth. Dan Tanner nearly wretched when he saw the bunkhouse carnage; and he did likewise, taking the wild rag from around his neck and tying it bandit fashion on this head to cover his nose and mouth.

Cane only stayed long enough for his deputy to get a good look. He, after all, had seen it before. The only difference was that Cane saw a fresh kill in his dream. The bodies of the four men, Gus Tucker, Sam West, Willie West and Pat Van Holt, were in their bunks, their throats slashed wide with such deep, gaping wounds that the maggots were already visible from the hatching eggs of blowflies. The corpses were pale as the blood drained from their necks. Tucker’s neck was cut so deeply in the top bunk that his head, hanging to the side of his bunk, looked as if it were ready to fall off its body.

“Have you seen enough?” Cane asked Dan.

Dan nodded. Though he did not cry, Dan’s eyes were filling with tears. He knew all these men; and Gus Tucker, in particular, was a childhood friend.

The two lawmen emerged from the bunkhouse just as Johnny Behan, Frank Stilwell, and Texas Jack Vermillion rode up. Cane pulled his handkerchief from his face and stuffed it in his duster. Dan also pulled his wild rag down.

The marshal and the sheriff exchanged pleasantries. Although Cane disliked Behan, and though he thought little of his character and disapproved of Behan’s many indiscretions, he still extended every courtesy to the Cochise County sheriff. He would do the same for Wyatt or Morgan Earp.

“‘Mornin’, Johnny,” Cane greeted.

“G’morning, Jonas,” Behan replied. Behan was always a little uneasy around Cane. He had no feud with the Bisbee marshal; neither did he begrudge him in any way. Cane wasn’t an Earp and he knew it. Though he would never admit it, he was scared to death of Marshal Cane. Behan saw Cane take down a fugitive in Tucson once and the marshal skinned his smoke pole faster than any pistoleer he had ever seen.

“Appreciate you coming out so quick.”

“I appreciate you sending for me.”

“Well, it is your jurisdiction after all,” Cane offered generously. He was a Deputy U.S. Marshal for the southeastern Arizona Territory, which meant that it was every bit his jurisdiction as well. Behan knew that too.

“So, whadya got?” Behan asked as he dismounted his stud and tied him up.

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