Lambs of Men by Charles White

Author:Charles White
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Lambs of Men
ISBN: 9781938103728
Publisher: Dzanc Books
Published: 2010-01-15T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Nine

They stood in the ashen light of morning looking on the canvas bundle double wrapped and lashed down against the crossed hickory travois poles. The burial litter of Martha Vaughn. It wasn’t much bigger than what would carry a dog.

Trent Price squatted and looked over the humped shape. “Was she that little?”

The judge’s son brushed past. “The pieces of her we found was.”

Spenser bent and raised the upper end of the poles to the grey horse’s haunches so that Hiram could tie each to the saddle’s rigging dee. Once he’d tugged the tie points firm to make sure they were good, Hiram stashed his carbine and climbed up and led all of the other horsemen out of the valley.

Sloane was content to never lay eyes on this place again. He rode with the sheriff, glancing back to the rear where the catatonic Vaughn rode at the end of the march with the judge’s son. Sloane, for one, was uneasy about having him any closer.

The water crossing was easy. Most of the rains had drained off from the higher elevations and the river ran smooth and uncharged. They saw beavers repairing the storm damage done to old dams and otters poking their sleek heads from banked dens only to draw them quickly back, afraid to seem too optimistic so soon perhaps.

Back on familiar ground, the ride picked up. The old paths were broad and undeviating and even though Hiram was dragging a sad weight, they did not match their pace to their mood. By noon they’d reached Black’s Creek, and then it was only a short way on to Sloane’s cabin.

Sloane served what lunch he could from his mostly bare larder. Not much more than some cornbread and old turnips. But at least he was able to set them up with a couple of pints of whiskey, knowing the hoochrunner would be back around any day now. Sloane figured he could afford to ration his stores until then.

They didn’t bother loosening Vaughn’s bonds to feed him. The only concession made to the murderer’s welfare was a cupful of creekwater the judge’s son dribbled into the corner of his mouth. They guessed he must have swallowed it because he didn’t once choke.

Hiram came up to the cabin. “Well, we better press on.”

He’d washed his face down by the creek while the others were eating and his hair was slick and jet. He stood on the edge of the porch, one foot already down to the top step, hat held by the crown, looking as ready to get going on as could be imagined.

Sloane looked off. “You all are welcome to overnight here. Make a strong pull of it to Canon City first thing in the morning.”

“Naw, we can make it in by tonight.”

Though the others must have known there was no way that was true, none said anything.

“Well, alright then. You can’t say that I didn’t offer.”

“No, I guess you’re right about that. Goodbye, Daddy.”

“Alright then.”

Sloane stood on his porch watching them go.

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