The Hangman Feeds the Jackal: A Gothic Western by Coy Hall

Author:Coy Hall [Hall, Coy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, General, Action & Adventure, Westerns, Western Gothic
ISBN: 9781944286248
Google: WJbgzgEACAAJ
Amazon: B09RFYH85V
Publisher: Nosetouch Press
Published: 2022-06-06T11:00:00+00:00

TWO

Spence Hickman worked like an Indian scout, testing the ground before waving forward Corbin and Felix. Spence possessed surprising grace in the darkness and fog. Felix watched with admiration. The way he moved along the decomposed fence, conscious of each footfall, made Felix wonder about the man’s military background. He wondered what he did in the Navy. The presence of Spence had always made him uneasy. His unwillingness to share his past intensified the feeling. He was a man capable of great cruelty, and he had a less predictable nature than Corbin. Spence had two moods: apathy and rage.

Corbin broke the spell of the scene.

“Let’s move,” he said.

From his horse, which he’d left tied in the woods, Corbin carried a satchel of ammunition. In addition to his rifle, he had two revolvers and a large Bowie knife. Ahead, Spence was armed in similar fashion. Felix carried two guns, his father’s revolver and a Smith and Wesson that Corbin supplied.

Spence reached the back wall of the monastery. He waved subtly—a flick of the wrist. Moonlight glinted on a pistol at his waist. Fog stretched around the base of the structure, falling like a blanket over the gardens.

Felix followed Corbin, wary about the noises he made. The leaves beneath his boots were loud. He reminded himself that the men in the front garden were loud, raucous with their laughter and drunkenness. Even at this distance he heard them. Without success, Felix tried to catch the voice of Bennie Wolf. The promise of killing Wolf quickened his heart.

The ruins loomed ahead, a sagging hulk at the apex of the slope. Tall ponderosa pines reached above it at one side. Otherwise, the ruins—like broken teeth where stone crumbled—dominated the sky. There were two entrances along the back wall, one towards the center and one at the far right. Both were open, dark cavities.

When Felix and Corbin reached Spence, the three stood like poised bandits in the monastery’s shadow. The fog undulated at their heels. The mist chilled, and for the first time that night Felix was cold. He adjusted his coat. He touched the guns for reassurance. Through the stone, Felix heard the men of Bone-of-Wellington. They argued. He caught the arrogant tones of Alf Parker, Tom’s grandfather. For a brief second, Felix thought about Tom.

It would be a shame if he’s here. If so, he made his choice.

Spence stood at the threshold of the far right entrance. The frame of the doorway still held trimming, but the door was gone. The debris of rotten wood covered the floor and spilled outside.

Felix recalled gaping holes in the floor of the second story. These were sections of the collapsed ceiling, now rodent havens. Clacking nails and curious squeaks came from within. He nearly smiled at the thought of his scarecrow with a rat’s ass poking from its throat, but Spence’s dour look kept Felix sober.

Corbin, standing beside Spence, whispered, “Get us to the stairs.” He nudged Felix. “We need to get up on the second floor.

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