Authors: Nancy A. Collins
Hell Come Sundown (11 page)
“Mr. Crocker was nice enough to loan you this. Don't take it off, if you want to keep your skull in one piece!” she warned.
“The bloodstoneâI can't go back inside the church without it,” Hell gasped.
“I already have it.” The medicine woman held up the amulet and quickly looped it around his neck. “I snatched it without them noticing when I escaped.”
“
Bruja!
You are the one responsible for this!” Sangre shrieked, great beads of liquid fat rolling from his face like tallow from a candle. He pointed an accusing finger at Pretty Woman, the flesh dripping from it as if he had just dipped his hand in honey. “This is no natural storm!
¡Mátelos todo!
” Sangre screamed as his face sloughed away, revealing the skull underneath.
If Sangre's army of the night heard him, they gave no sign of it as they darted about frantically, their flesh running from their bones. Those who had lost their eyes to the mysterious downpour stumbled into the fellows, causing them to trip and fall into pools of rainwater mixed with viscera, where they continued to dissolve even faster than before. Elmer and Mr. Crocker stood in the open doorway, watching the destruction of Sangre and his unholy legion with a mixture of disgust and fascination.
“My God,” Mr. Crocker said. “It's like when my wife pours salt on the slugs in our garden.”
Pretty Woman hurried her charge past the two men guarding the door and into the safety of the waiting church. As Hell tossed aside the jacket that had protected him from the murderous downpour, the others closed in about him.
“Cuss told us what Sangre did to you,” Jimmy Tucker said, fixing Hell with a curious eye. “He said that you were like those things outside, but different. Is that true?”
“Yes, son. It's true,” Hell said with a slight smile that showed his fangs.
“Well, I don't care if you
are
one of them things, you saved my life, misterâand I want to shake your hand!” The salesman said, thrusting his hand forward. He froze when he saw the blackened ruins jutting out of the end of Hell's shirt cuffs.
“Dear Lord!” Mrs. Crocker gasped.
“Don't worry, ma'am, “Hell said with a weak smile. “I'll be good as new in just a few hours.”
Loretta Tucker jumped up and pointed in the direction of the door. “Mama! Look! It's Cuss!”
Hell turned and saw the old gunrunner standing in the door of the church, rainwater and blood pouring down the front of his clothes. Elmer and Clem ran to help their friend into the building, where he was placed in one of the pews, a folded petticoat under his head. Dottie Tucker sat down beside him, holding his hand while her children stood by and watched.
Hell leaned over and spoke the dying man's name. Cuss' eyelids flickered open and he gave the Ranger a weak smile. “Hey there, Sam. Glad to see you got back safe.”
“Good Lord, Cussâwhy did you risk such a damn fool stunt just to save me?”
“Seemed like the thing to do at the time,” the old man rasped, attempting a shrug. “But before I goâI just want you to know, Sam, that you're a better man dead than most folks livin'.”
“Back at you, partner,” Hell whispered as he closed his friend's eyes.
Chapter Eight
Hell awoke to find himself lying flat on his back, staring up at the underside of a church pew. He crawled out from his makeshift shelter and stretched his stiff muscles with an audible crack. The interior of the church was deserted save for Pretty Woman, who was seated crossed-legged atop the altar.
“Where is everybody?”
“They returned to Tucker's Station after they buried Cuss,” Pretty Woman explained. “They took the bandits' wagons and horses. I told Mrs. Tucker where we buried her husband along the trail, so she could bring him home, too.”
“Good. I'm glad they made it out of this okay. How are you feeling, by the way?”
“Like I was kicked in the head by a buffalo.” She unfolded her legs and hopped onto the ground. “Soâdo you want to see what's left of him?”
“Might as well get it over with,” he sighed.
Hell gave out with a low whistle as he surveyed the hillside outside the church. The ground was littered with dozens of skeletons, their bleached bones gleaming silver in the West Texas moonlight.
“Which one is his?”
“That one,” she said, pointing to a skeleton dressed in a fancy embroidered vest with one arm still fixed in a sling. It still held Hell's pistol clutched in its bony hand.
“I'll take that back, if you don't mind,” Hell said, retrieving his weapon and gun belt. He stared at Sangre's peeled skull for a moment before bringing his boot heel down, reducing it to powder. “Mind telling me how you managed to pull off that little rain dance of yours?” he asked, as he refastened his gun belt.
“I remembered Cuss saying something about the Salt Flats being near here,” Pretty Woman replied. “All I needed was the blood of a virgin and the right words to appease the spirits. Once that was done, it was relatively easy to create a strong enough wind to mix a cloud of salt dust with a rain cloud. Luckily Mrs. Tucker's oldest girl isn't a liar.”
“You never cease to amaze me, Pretty, even after all this time!” Hell chuckled, shaking his head in admiration.
“Now that you've finally hunted down and killed Sangre, what are you going to do now, Sam?”
“Keep doing what I've been doing, I guess,” he shrugged. “From what Sangre said, these weren't the only spawn he created. I bet he's done what he did in Golgotha a hundred times over: create an angry mob of dead'uns, then force them to fight it out among themselves until they were winnowed down to the meanest of the lot, then sent them out into the world to spread his contagion. Sangre may be gone, but the evil he created is still out there. I can feel it.” Hell turned to look at Pretty Woman. “But what about you? You said your destiny was tied to Sangre's and my own. Now that he's gone, you're free to go back to your people.”
“Yes, that's true,” the medicine woman admitted.
“Well, are you? Going to go back, that is?”
“My people have their own path to walk, just as I have mine. For the time being, my path is the same as yours.”
“I'm glad to hear that,” Hell said with a smile. “Because I've gotten used to having you around.” He reached up and touched the bolo tie cinched about his neck. “After all, you're one of my two lucky charms.”
“You don't really need that thing, you know,” she said. “When you removed it you were able to reclaim your mind and free yourself from the bloodlust. The reason the bloodstone rendered Sangre powerless was because he was evil even
before
he became a dead'un. When the evil within him was made dormant, he was unable to so much as move. The fact you are talking to me now proves that what evil exists inside you is far outweighed by the good.”
“I know that,” Hell nodded. “I guess I always have. Still, I think I'll keep it just the same. Lord knows I can use all the help
I can get, even if it is from some Aztec god whose name I can't pronounce.”
“Are you afraid of being tempted?”
“Of course I'm afraid! After all, I'm only human,” he said with a wink of his blood-red eye. “Besides, if I get rid of it, what am I going to use to cinch my tie? Now, if you don't mind, I've got a twitch in my foot that tells me there's a poltergeist due north of here.”
“Not another one!” Pretty Woman groaned. “The last time we broke one of those things, I got a chamber pot hurled at me from across the room!”
“It's too late to back out now,” Hell said with a crooked grin, exposing his fangs “The Dark Ranger rides again!”
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All rights reserved, including without limitation the right to reproduce this book or any portion thereof in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2004 by Nancy Collins
ISBN: 978-1-5040-1536-3
Distributed in 2015 by Open Road Distribution
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New York, NY 10014
