Lucky Penny by catherine anderson

Author:catherine anderson [Anderson, Catherine]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Amazon: B005GSYZ3O
Published: 2013-11-02T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirteen

W

hen the after-supper festivities ended and all of them were bedded down, David lay awake, waiting to be sure Daphne was asleep before he went out to take care of unfinished business. He had three men to bury. No matter how far they had wandered from righteousness, they’d been human beings, and he needed to respect their remains, making sure scavengers didn’t drag them off.

Bone weary, he didn’t look forward to all that digging with a short-handled spade. But he couldn’t wait until morning. Daphne might see the men, and they hadn’t died pretty. David guessed no one did, but the aftermath of a violent death was something no child should witness. Hell, he was a grown man, and sometimes the things life had thrown at him still haunted his dreams.

When David felt sure the child slept, he slipped from his bedroll, donned his hat, and went to get the spade. He had good night vision, so he needed no light. He’d have to cover the graves with rocks. Otherwise, coyotes would sniff out the corpses and have easy digging. Collecting stones would be the hardest part. He guessed he could leave that for morning. The important thing now was to cover the bodies.

Determined to be finished before Daphne awakened, he went to work, consoling himself with the thought that he could sleep late in the morning. Digging with a short spade was always a back breaker. David couldn’t put much of his weight behind the blade. It was all arm and shoulder work, but with grim determination, he dug the holes—not as deeply as he would have with a proper shovel, but deep enough to satisfy the Lord.

That accomplished, he turned his attention to the men. He’d shot one of them right between the eyes, a fine piece of work, nasty as the result was. He had Ace to thank for that. If not for all those hours of practicing with six-shooters as a boy, he’d be the one going into a hole. No gladness lifted his heart. He had killed before and probably would again, but there’d never be any joy in it for him. Although these men had made the decision to come after him, and he’d had no choice but to fight, there was a lump in his chest, making him feel as if he’d swallowed a rock. Long ago, Ace had tried to explain how being a gunman had eaten at his soul. David hadn’t understood back then, but over time, he’d come to feel exactly the same way. Each time he took another human life, something way deep within him felt as if it died, too.

He crouched over the big fellow’s body, his nostrils burning at the stench. He needed to relieve each man of his personal effects. Maybe in the doing, he’d learn their names and could notify their families.

The fire had burned low by the time Brianna slipped from bed, carefully repositioning the blankets over her sleeping child. Then she crept to the copse where she knew David toiled, digging graves.

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