Blood & Dust (Lonesome Ridge Book 2) (2 page)

They settled back against the cars once more and waited for the sun to go down. Just as she was ready to tell them to move on, the man’s fingers twitched. He moaned and rolled over. A small smile broke across Charity’s face. “Welcome back,” she said as she leaned over him.

The man’s dull gray eyes stared at her with that familiar lack of life, that look she had come to love. It meant nothing remained of their former intelligence, or at least, very little of it did. Jeremiah helped the man to his feet and as a group they all plodded along, following the tracks of the horses.

“Horses would’ve been nice,” Charity lamented.

“Yeah, we shoulda stopped ‘em,” Jeremiah agreed.

The group of undead had been very enthusiastic in their purge and the horses met the same fates as their owners. It was a shame, but nothing could be done about it now. Not that they really needed them. They had only been walking a short while when lights came into view between a crack in the hills. Charity shushed the others and left them behind as she and Jeremiah crept up to a small cluster of houses.

Five buildings were arranged around a central fenced courtyard. Voices could be heard from the largest of the buildings.

“We can’t go now. It’s too dark.”

“But they should have been back by now. Something must have happened.”

“And if it did, what would we do? Silas told us to stay here and tend the homestead, so that is what we must do. He is our husband, and we cannot disobey.”

Charity poked her head up just high enough to see in the window. Four women were seated around a large table. One old man rocked in a chair beside the fire and a bunch of children, mostly girls, played on the floor or sat in chairs stitching needlework.

At Charity’s nod, Jeremiah sneaked back to the group of undead and brought them up. The screams of the women and children bounded off the walls of the shared house and blood splashed across the floor. The old man sat in his chair and rocked.

CHAPTER 2

His whole body hurt. He could feel the ache coursing through his blood, through his very soul. His hands twitched and he felt unsteady, wrong somehow, like something was missing. Instinctively, he reached for the desk drawer and pulled it open, expecting that comforting clink that always accompanied the action. Silence and emptiness greeted him. He stared into the big blank hole where his whiskey bottles used to sit. He needed to hit the saloon.

As he reached for his hat, his eyes fell on the single picture sitting on his desk. It hadn’t been there for very long. Neil Avery had given it to him only two days before. Connor picked it up and stared at it. The attractive woman stared back with that signature smirk on her face.

“Cora,” he half groaned, half whispered. He could almost hear her response.
Breaking your promise already, brother? Tsk tsk.
She would smile and bat his arm playfully, but the hurt in her eyes would almost be worse than the sound of the gunshot that took her from him.

“You wanted to see me, boss?”

Connor jerked and dropped the photo on his desk. He glanced up, his tired eyes thinking they would see Amos Barnett, his former deputy. But it wasn’t Amos. Amos was yet another casualty of the horror that befell Lonesome Ridge barely a week before.

“Yeah, Jasper. Come on in.” He beckoned to a chair and the young man pulled it over. “How’s it goin’?”

Jasper Gaines settled into the chair. He shrugged one shoulder and frowned a bit. “Okay, I guess. People have been asking a lot of questions. Questions I don’t really know the answers to.”

Connor McClane nodded and leaned back. His eyes fell on Cora’s photo. “What kind of questions?”

Jasper shrugged again. “Oh, you know. They want to know why this is happening, if it’s all over now. They want to know what we’re doing to protect them, how they can protect themselves, how we’re going to stop those things if they come back.” He paused and poked at the badge on his chest. It was dented and tarnished, but the word
deputy
still showed in big, clear letters. “They want to know where you are and what you’re doing for them.”

There it was. Connor swallowed hard. For the first five days after the attack, he’d been around, visible, leading people like a sheriff should in a time of crisis. But then the shakes hit, the terrible ache, the complete and utter feeling of devastation. Two days ago, he wanted to die. He wanted to join his sister wherever she ended up. He wanted to be done with it and let someone else take the burden he carried.

“Boss?”

The sheriff blinked rapidly and looked up at his deputy. “Yeah,” he said.

“Yeah what?” Jasper’s blue eyes narrowed with concern for the billionth time in the last two days. He’d found Connor sitting in the corner of his bedroom with a gun in his hands. After relieving the sheriff of the weapon, he went to find Robert Zane, the butcher and one of Connor’s closest friends. Robert and Jasper had been the only people Connor was willing to see.

“Yeah, I know. I’ve let them down. I walked away when they needed me most.” His eyes were locked on Cora’s picture.

“You didn’t, Connor. We’re all right. But we do need you to come back. Pull out of this rut you’re in.” The young man leaned forward and fixed the sheriff with a look that said more than he could possibly convey with words, but he still tried. “We’ve all lost people, Connor. People we loved and cared for. It sucks and it’s hard, but none of us are alone in that. Every single person in this town has been affected by this. No one walked away unscathed. We’re all suffering.”

The older man chewed on his lip for a moment. “How are we with defenses?”

“We have a rough wall built up most of the way around the town. Everything else has pretty much been put on hold while that happens. It’s not much, but they’ll be able to reinforce it better once it’s complete.”

“Good, good. What about patrols?”

“Doubled. Teams of at least four, no less. We don’t want anyone to be caught unawares.”

Connor nodded. “Smart. Any sign of…” He paused, searching for the right words. “Any sign of those things?”

Jasper’s blond hair danced as he nodded. “Not them, but we’ve found some tracks. Tracks that lead away from the town. None have tried to hit us, or attack anyone that we’ve heard of, but it looks like some did get away. We have to hunt them down, take them out.”

The sheriff took a deep breath. “And we have to go back to the Crawford farm. We have to make sure it’s clear, that none of them are still there.”

Jasper’s jaw worked as he clenched his teeth together, but he nodded. “Yep.”

“When are you leaving?”

Both men jumped at the voice in the doorway. Connor almost cursed Cora’s name out of sheer habit. Sneaking up on him was one of her best tricks. But as before, it wasn’t Cora in the doorway. It was Abigail Crawford, one of the two survivors of the attack on the Crawford farm.

“Abby, how’s your arm?” Connor asked as he nodded in her direction.

She walked into the jail house and lifted her left arm. It ended just below the elbow and she had wrapped the long sleeve of the dress she wore into a knot to cover it. “I’ll live. When are you leaving?” she asked again.

Connor smiled at her tenacity. Abby was a strong woman of twenty. She managed to save one sister from the undead attack on her family’s farm, and she had fought and survived against one of the toughest undead to attack Lonesome Ridge. She lost her arm in the process, but she still survived.

Connor glanced at the clock on the wall. It was still only mid-morning. “We should head out soon. Take a posse with us and clear it out.”

Jasper shifted in his chair. “Amos had a posse,” he observed.

“Amos didn’t know what he was facing.” Abby answered for Connor. She crossed her arms as best she could, wincing a little at the pain still in her arm, and looked down at the deputy. “We do. We know what those things are and we know what they’re capable of. If we’re careful, we’ll be fine.”

“We?” Connor raised an eyebrow at the young woman and cocked his head.

Her jaw was set and her eyes were hard. “Yes, we. Don’t even think about leaving me behind, Connor McClane. That’s my home. My family. I need to…” Her voice cracked and she paused to clear her throat and straighten her shoulders. “I need to make sure everything is settled.” Her shoulders sagged a bit and her head drooped. “I need to make sure none of them came back.”

The pleading in her eyes was all he needed to see. He understood that sentiment all too well. Cora had taken herself out before she could turn, but others hadn’t been so lucky. Was Abby’s family roaming around the farm still, eating whatever living thing they happened upon? Her brother had come back and nearly killed her. He had killed his betrothed. Was her father or mother one of the undead who had attacked Amos? The girl wanted to know, and Connor couldn’t deny her that opportunity.

“All right then. Jasper, gather up some men. At least six, not counting us.” Connor rose from the desk and the other two followed him out into the morning sun. Connor flinched as the light hit his eyes and several people who were walking down the street paused to stare at him, but he ignored them and acted like it was a normal day. “I’m gonna go find Robert,” he said as he walked down the steps.

Abby was right on his heels. “I’ll come with you. I know where he is.”

Connor’s teeth clenched. He didn’t want her to come with him. He didn’t want a chaperon or puppy dog, whatever she was trying to be. He just wanted to be alone. The feeling that had been overwhelming the last two days tried to creep back up, but Connor pushed it back. He turned his head slightly to the side and smiled at the girl. “Lead the way, little lady.”

She returned his smile with a glare. “Don’t make me flatten you,” she growled as she stalked by him and headed toward the wall.

Connor couldn’t help but laugh. “Of course, Miss Crawford. No flattening needed.” He had to give the girl credit. Despite all the awful stuff that had happened to her recently, she was holding up well. She had always been a spitfire, without a doubt, but Abby Crawford was growing up.

“Connor,” Robert called from near the unfinished section of wall as they approached. His voice boomed out across the dusty road and assaulted everyone nearby. “How are you, lad? Feelin’ well, I take it?” He clapped the sheriff on the shoulder so hard, Connor almost stumbled to the side.

Connor’s head bobbed once as he avoided the questioning eyes of the nearby workers. “Fine. Listen, we’re taking a hunting party out to the Crawford farm. We need to clear it out and make sure none of those things are still milling about.”

‘Those things’ had become the go-to term for the undead creatures. No one wanted to give them a real name, and no one wanted to acknowledge what they had once been. ‘Those things’ was a safe, distancing phrase that kept most people from really admitting the truth. It was much easier to deal with that way.

“Aye, I agree. I was just thinkin’ about that this mornin’, actually. Happy ya beat me to it. Want me to join ya?”

Connor shook his head. “No, not today. I’m taking Jasper with me and I need someone to be in charge. You up for the job?”

It was a stupid question, really. Robert had basically been in charge while Connor was holed away in his room. But the big man had tact and refused to acknowledge that particular issue.

“Sure, lad. Happy to. I’ll keep these fellas workin’ an’ sweatin’. Should have the wall done by tomorrow at the latest.”

The sheriff appraised the section of wood nearby. It was hastily erected, but it would do for now, and as Jasper had said, it could be reinforced later once the whole thing was up. “Lookin’ good, Robert,” he said. “Keep it up. Who knows, someday you might be sheriff.” Connor grinned at the butcher and Robert laughed.

“Nah,” he said. “No interest. Maybe mayor, though.” He tossed Abby a wink and the stoic girl rewarded him with a small smile.

Connor tapped Robert on the arm. “We’ll be back by tomorrow at the latest. If we’re not…” He let the words hang, but Robert got his drift.

“Yep, understood.” He gave Connor another nod of the head and went back to bossing around the men and women at the wall.

Connor turned back toward the middle of town and Abby followed. They found Jasper and the posse he had gathered at the stables. All the men carried rifles or firearms of some sort. Jasper led a horse out to Abby and helped her mount up.

“I ain’t ridin’ with no woman,” one of the men spat as he balanced his shotgun on his shoulder.

“Fair enough. You don’t have to,” Connor said.

Abby opened her mouth to protest as the man leered at her, but Connor held up his hand. She snapped her lips shut and Connor walked over to the man. He held out his hand. “Shotgun.”

“What?” The man stood toe-to-toe with the sheriff, confusion evident on his face.

“Give me your shotgun.”

“What fer?” The man’s fingers turned white as he gripped the stock.

“Because you’re not going with us. You’re going to find Robert and work the wall while we’re gone.”

“But… I…”

“Shotgun,” Connor said again. He stared at the man hard and didn’t move a muscle. It was a battle of wills and he wasn’t about to lose.