Cassidy Smith, Book One: The Gray Man by Paul Wilson

Author:Paul Wilson [Wilson, Paul]
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub
Publisher: Black Rose Writing
Published: 2021-09-23T00:00:00+00:00

* * * * *

“They’re Luquosi Cigars,” the tobacco merchant said through trembling jaw and running sweat. “These are the thick ones known as Tree Fingers. Very good.”

He dabbed himself with a handkerchief.

“Would the lady like a dozen cigars perhaps?” He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He was shaking.

“Wonder what spooked him so?” Tilly asked from the corner and giggled. “Does he know the dead walk this town? Does it fill his pants with poo-poo?” She cackled at her wit.

“Four dozen,” Cassidy replied. It was all she had room for—or money.

The merchant turned white. His voice was a fearful whisper. “I only have three, Missus.”

“I’ll take them all.”

He nodded, unable to talk, seemingly thankful he was able to keep his life. Cassidy thought of asking him why. Did he think her a ghost or monster?

Well, you are a killer.

In the storeroom the salesman dropped a box that made a loud clatter. He whimpered and looked out as if expecting the reaper come to kiss. Cassidy only waited. She would have smiled to reassure him, but she couldn’t muster one. Even if she could win these people over, she didn’t want to make the effort. She only wanted to get moving. The quiet of the desert called to her.

“Anything else Miss?”

She shook her head. Cassidy left his shop, feeling better for matching Alan’s brand of smokes. Until the merchant had to rustle in the back, Cassidy didn’t realize how afraid she was of losing touch with that ritual. The merchant was so upset at how long it took to find Alan’s brand he didn’t charge. That was fine. It balanced the gouging on the silver bullets.

They’re my brand of cigars now, Cassidy thought with amusement.

She bought food, water, and assorted things for her personal bag. She hoped for fresh fruit, but that merchant claimed he was out. She settled for more jerky and sighed.

And now money is an issue.

Cassidy found a merchant interested in purchasing the knife she strapped to her arm and its spring clip. But his offer was too low. She didn’t dicker well and gave up.

People began populating the streets. Somewhere in town a jolly soul began playing a fiddle—maybe he was trying to entice mice from his home. That was a remedy, so she heard.

She trod down the middle of the street. No one looked at her directly. The citizens were the great there-not-there. If they did smile, it was a short thing strained, a way to get Cassidy away from them as quickly as possible. She felt like a plaque maiden, those women who were reputed to bring disease to a town.

“Unclean, unclean,” she muttered to herself. What book of the Bible was that? Her mother read and shared if a little Cassidy Smith happened to peek over the huge white cover. What was that section? Leviticus.

And the leper in whom

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