High Moon Rising by Ben Myatt

Author:Ben Myatt
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Ben Myatt

Chapter Four: Sanchez

The Sheriff shook his head in disgust as the town undertaker measured up the barman's body for it's final pine residence.

“I knew that man for nigh-on one hundred and fifty years.” He said, a hint of regret creeping into his voice. “We've played poker every Saturday night for as long as I can remember”

The Undertaker grunted as he ran his tape measure up the side of the corpses body. In his head, he ticked off the list of things that needed to be done.

“Strange how that paddy bastard managed to kill him. The weapon weren't anything special.” The Sheriff continued.

The undertaker could recognise a hint when he heard one. He reached into the dead man's pocket and removed a battered silver coin.

“Bullets went through this. Drove the silver clean into his heart.”

The Sheriff gingerly took the coin, and rolled it between his hands as if it were red-hot.

“Horrible way to go.”

“Ain't no good ways.” The Undertaker said. He'd been a part of the pack long enough to keep most of his opinions to himself, but he had his values. “Havin' your throat torn out probably ain't nice.”

The Sheriff fixed him with a level glare.

“You got somethin' on your chest?”

“Not really. I just put people in the ground – it's where they go afterwards that they gotta account for their wrongs.” The undertaker said with a shrug. “But you shouldn't have given them your oath if you weren't gonna keep it.”

“Like I said, I don't make deals with meat. I don't hear you debatin' with the chicken you have for dinner.”

“The chicken ain't liable to put a bullet in my skull. We can die if we take enough damage to our brain, as well you know. That's what happened to young Donahue.”

The Sheriff grunted, and laid the silver dollar gingerly on the bar. He poured a generous measure of whiskey into a glass, and sipped at it as he watched the undertaker work.

***

“Let's get you cleaned up, Jim.” Cara said gently.

The tall outlaw turned to look at her, fury burning in his icy blue eyes.

“You lied to me.”

“I did no such thing.” She snapped. “That bastard decided to ignore all the traditions we have when he killed your friend.”

Jim wiped his hands on his jeans, smearing blood across the cloth.

“Ain't no-one gonna help me with Mick's body?” He said quietly.

“The undertaker will be along shortly, I expect.” The shopkeeper said. “So lets go get you seen to.”

“I'll wait here, Jim.” Sanchez said quietly. “I'll make sure he gets a decent burial.”

Jim nodded, and allowed Cara to lead him away. She walked him slowly towards the door of her shop. She pulled him through the door and into the cosy kitchen at the rear of the premises, before ushering him into a seat. He slumped down, sudden exhaustion overwhelming the anger he felt. Cara poured some of the water from her supply onto a cloth, and handed it to him. He nodded his thanks, and began to wipe Mick's blood from his hands.

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