“So, what do you think?” She ignored his complaint and looking around. “Poison?”
He held up a can, careful not to spill the contents. “This killed them.”
“A can?”
He straightened to his knees and a strangely quiet Katie gave him a hand up. “You’re some medic, Murdock. Old cans. The food was spoiled. There was certainly some kind of poison in it.”
Her mouth made a round “oh” as he went past her and onto the front porch.
“You folks gather around.” His quiet voice carried easily in the silence surrounding the house. The people waiting outside shuffled closer. He could see a few mercs in the outer fringes of the crowd. He supposed they were curious. Judging from the number, it looked like most of the honest townspeople were here.
“The Clarks are dead. All of them. There’s no mystery here. The cause is not the plague, or anything like it. This is what killed them.” Trent held up one of the old rusty cans. “I shouldn’t have to be telling you this, especially so long after The Fall. We all use material things made years ago. Material things. It’s the way we live. But you can’t do that with food, no matter how good it looks, how clean you think it is, or how hungry you are. If you don’t grow it, raise it, or kill it yourself, don’t eat it. That is survival rule number one, people. Anything you find in cans or jars may be spoiled. When something lies around for years, there is no end to the kinds of sickness it may breed.”
He looked over the crowd. “Whatever was in those cans killed the Clark family in a matter of minutes. You think about that. It just isn’t worth the chance. If any of you have food like that stashed away, get rid of it. If you know where this family got these cans of stew, go get the rest and bury them.”
Trent paused a moment. “Now, these people need to be buried. Any volunteers?” When several men stepped forward, he turned to Murdock. “You want to take care of this?”
Her green pallor belied her bravado. “Sure, I’ve seen worse.”
He looked at her quizzically, “You got a first name, Murdock?”
The woman looked at him and some color came back to her face. “None you’ll ever hear.”
Grinning, he left things in her hands, and walked back to the horses with Katie.
She looked back at the house. “Sometimes people can be so stupid.” Her voice broke. “The baby—”
“Katherine.”
“What—?” She turned and saw what had hardened his voice and gave a small gasp.
Pagan Reeves was waiting for him, and it didn’t look like a social call. Red Seaver was beside him, grinning widely. The third man was a man who called himself Tommyknocker. He had two guns strapped to his waist, another in his waistband, and from what he’d heard, a mind totally void of conscience. He’d heard a lot about the Tommyknocker. Mostly that he was insane and mean.
Trust Reeves to bring a crowd.
He sighed as he slid the thong off his pistol. “You better stay out of the way, Katherine. I’ll be talking to these men.”
11
Trent rode to see Pagan Reeves, sidestepping his horse down the hill. His right hand was on his hip, inches from the butt of his pistol, his left hand shoulder high—holding the horse with a tight rein.
“You lookin’ for me, Marshal?” Pagan’s voice was truculent and he was looking for a fight.
“Not until morning.” His eyes never left the three of them. Of the three, he worried about Pagan Reeves the least. He’d run across Red Seaver before and knew him to be deadly with any kind of weapon, but it was Tommyknocker he would watch the closest. The man was wild-eyed and high strung. If he jumped, no telling which way he’d go.
“Which means—what?”
He could see a small crowd was gathering and felt like Pagan was a test. “Your name is on the list.”
“What if we don’t wanna leave?” Tommyknocker spoke in a high-pitched voice, as he moved his horse away from the other two.
“Then I’ll kill you.” He said it matter of fact, with no bravado or embellishment. It was just a simple statement of truth.
Tommyknocker laughed, and his horse pranced a moment. “You’ll never see the day.”
He sighed. This had gone on long enough. Better to do this on his terms. “Do you remember the last time I saw you? It was at Caplinger Mills. You were wounded and running like hell.”
With an oath, Tommyknocker dropped his hands to his guns.
Trent shot him just below the sternum. He didn’t need more than one shot, knowing what hollow points do. As the man slumped, like a puppet with cut strings, Trent moved the barrel of the pistol to cover the other two. Reeves sat in stunned silence while Red Seaver sat cursing under his breath.
“What’d you do that for?” Reeves yelled at him, and then watched as Tommyknocker slid from the saddle and his horse skittered away.
He replied in a hard voice. “Never could see talking when it’s a shooting matter. You’d do well to remember that. Now, you have a choice. A choice you didn’t have a minute ago. Either you can pull that fancy pistol and start shooting, or you can gather your people and leave town. The choice is yours, and I don’t have all day. Make up your mind.”
Red Seaver said, “Someday it will be you and me, Trent.”
“Forget it, Red. It would have to be from the back and you aren’t that kind. Besides, I’ve seen you draw.”
“You haven’t seen me draw, Trent.” Reeves voice was taunting. “Have you thought of that? I’ve seen what you can do and I’m not worried one bit. What do you think of that, lawman?”
He smiled at the man, knowing it would infuriate him. “I saw you start to draw, you just never finished. That’s the way people like you are, Reeves. You start, but never finish. You try to get other people to do your killing for you.”
Pagan’s face turned a mottled red, then faded to grey. When he finally spoke, it was in a choked whisper. “Red, go get the rest of the men. Meet me at Sliding Rock, then we’ll go see Starking.” He smiled maliciously. “I think open season is about to start on our Mr. Trent.”
“Would you care to start now, Reeves?”
Reeves shook his head. “No. I can wait. When the time is right… we’ll meet.”
Trent relaxed slightly. “It may never come, Reeves.”
“Why?”
“I can’t imagine ever turning my back on you.”
As Trent rode back toward town, he raised his hand in salute to the Reverend and Katherine. He wondered where she’d gone. Neither looked very happy.
12
Marshal John Trent lounged in a tipped-back chair that graced the front of his makeshift quarters at Big Springs. Katie had called after him, following the confrontation with Reeves, with a promise to come later and talk. It didn’t take much to figure what the subject would be. He’d even surprised himself with the suddenness of the killing of Tommyknocker. But there simply wasn’t time to do anything else.
As he sat watching the few townspeople go about their evening chores, he tried to collect his thoughts on his first day in town. One minor crisis with the food poisoning, and the lawless element certainly knew where they stood. His fight with Big Waters had seen to that. Coupled with meeting Katie’s father, it had been quite a day. Hopefully, within a few days, the townspeople would start to see him as a help instead of a hindrance. In the meantime, he needed to figure out just how to go about this marshaling job he’d fallen into.
He was about ready to get up and make a circuit through town when he noticed a large man in a floppy hat walk out of Murdock’s saloon. His wild hair was barely contained by the hat, and from his appearance, Trent was glad he was upwind from the man. It wasn’t his rough appearance that brought his attention, but his manner. The man walked toward him, but stopped at a small cabin set slightly back from the street. After furtively looking around, he quickly snatched open the door and ducked inside. In the cool night air, he could clearly hear the sound of a slap and a woman’s scream. What the hell?