Gunslinger's Moon (2 page)

Carter saw Jed watching the wagons. “Those will be the miners heading to the gold mine.”

The town did not seem like a bustling town with mad rushes of people looking for gold. “You got a gold mine in town?”

Carter chuckled, “Don’t look like it huh? Well, most early settlers got access to the mine. Then the lucky man who first found it bought the land. He stopped mining himself and charged people a share of what they found. Of course a lot of people had heard, so there was hundreds of miners without work. Then a coal mining company, Miller and Cooper Mining, came over and employed all the unlucky miners for coal.”

They approached a bright white house. It was the largest in the town. Jed figured it was the lucky miner’s home. There was space in the front for a garden but nothing obviously was growing. Carter opened the door, revealing the interior. It was a mess. The furniture inside was a destroyed. A table had be split in half. Chairs had been ripped into shreds. There was dents in the walls. And the blood. Dried red blood covered the floor. A carpet was stained with the liquid.  Jed tipped his hat back, whistling. All in all not one of the worst scenes he had seen.

“This was the mayor’s house,” Sheriff Carter began. “Ed Miller. He is also one of the coal mine owners. As you can probably tell, this weren’t natural.”

Jed knelt down, examining the blood. A couple of dark strands of fur lay in the pool. “When?”

“Two nights ago. My office is not far away, so I heard the shouting. I came over and there was nothing here besides Ed Miller’s body.”

“And you called me...?”

“I know this is out of my league,” admitted Sheriff Carter. “I’ll show you the body. I need to know what happened here.”

The sheriff did not seem formidable in that moment. Jed could see he was tired. The lines around Carter’s eyes were sharp and deep. The eyes itself lacked luster and energy He sighed, unsure if he wanted to get involved. His goal was San Francisco, not solving a murder. “I will see the body. Mind you I am retired, so that is all I’m going to do. Where is it at?”

“At the doctor’s house. His assistant manages the graveyard.”

“Let’s have a look.”

They did not spend long walking to the doctor. It was still plenty of time for Jed to sweat in the heat. He saw the Sheriff’s office and a large fortified building, its windows had bars over them. In fact, it was the only building he had seen made of adobe. Jed figured it could only be the bank.

Sheriff Carter opened the door to the waiting room. A well-dressed man stood up from his desk and greeted them. Doctor Frank Heinrich was a smooth middle-aged doctor with black hair meticulously cut. His pair of spectacles were resting in his coat pocket. “Hello, Sheriff Carter. Deputy Ross. How may I be of service?” The doctor had a refined way of speaking, boasting of high education. He clearly enunciated, though a touch of German accent was unescapable.

“We want a look at the body, Doctor Heinrich.” 

“Of course.” He called out, “Grigor please show our guests Ed Miller’s body.”

From the stairs came a short, stocky man. He was forever bent over, a bulge jutting from his back. A hunchback. Rough looking, one could see the hardness in his eyes. Grigor grunted and moved to a door in the back. Withdrawing a key he unlocked the door.              

Doctor Heinrich pulled the Sheriff to the side. “A word if you please.”

Carter told Jed to go ahead and take a look. Ross stayed with the sheriff. Ed Miller’s body was on one of several short tables. Except the head he was entirely covered by a sheet. Pulling the sheet to the waist Jed had a clear view of the wounds. Grigor and the doctor apparently worked very fast. The wounds were already sewed up. However, that did not stop him from recognizing the savagery of the attack. There were bite marks on the shoulders and arms. Long cuts went from the chest to the gut. Purple marks drew Jed to gaze to Miller’s knuckles. They were bruised.

“Can you flip him over?” Jed asked the stocky assistant.

Grigor complied and flipped Ed Miller to his back. No wounds marked the backside. Frowning, Jed thought about it. Ed Miller had been an aging business owner turned mayor. Chances were Miller would have ran at the sight of his attack. It appeared that Miller had tried to fight. The bruising on the knuckles, showed he had fought. That did not make sense to what Jed had seen. Jed told Grigor to place him on his back. Miller’s head flopped around unnaturally as the body shifted.

“What happened to his head,” he asked Grigor.

For several moments Grigor stared at the gunslinger. Simply he stated, “It broke.” His voice was rough and also heavily accented.

Jed nodded summing up what the evidence said happened. An aging man had fought a fight he had no chance of winning. A fight against an unrelenting assailant. Ed Miller had not simply been killed. He had been slaughtered. Those slashes had been made before and Jed had seen what could make them. A bad feeling was rising in his gut. A familiar feeling.

Sheriff Carter came in finished with his talk to the doctor. “What do you think?” The sheriff nervously asked.

“No doubt about it,” Jed said. “He was killed by a werewolf.”  

Chapter 2

After thanking Doctor Heinrich for his time, Sheriff Carter led Jed back to his office. Like every other part of town, the Sheriff’s office was sparse and plain. Carter took the seat behind a small desk and Jed took the other chair. Deputy Ross was left standing beside his boss, still holding the rifle menacingly in his hands. Carter placed his hat on the desk and ran a hand through his thinning hair. He offered Jed a drink, which was refused.

Carter stared hard into Jed’s eyes. There was stress written in his brown eyes. “I’ve fought about every type of man in about every situation. I fought in the war on foot and horse. I’ve been in posse’s and killed bandits. I even dueled a man once. But I ain’t never seen a werewolf let alone shoot at one.”

Jed frowned seeing where the sheriff was heading. Not many lawmen hired gunslingers. Most of the time it was the mayor, town council, or private citizens. The common thought was gunslingers were wild and cocky. Many were. Lawmen were not fond of this common wild streak.

Ross understood his boss too and he protested, “Sir I don’t believe we need a high and mighty gunslinger gallivanting around and telling us what to do. We can handle a werewolf.”

“Shut up, Ross,” Sheriff Carter raised his voice. “I ain’t too proud or stupid to ask for help when I need it. I know this is out of my experience. You will be well paid, Jed.”

“I’m retired.” He stated unequivocally.

Carter was not done pleading. “Please, I can understand why you retired. It must be dangerous. Folk like you get paid well and you want to live to spend it. But, I need your help. Hickory is isolated like an Indian reserve. Getting help here won’t be easy. In the meantime I don’t know where to look for a werewolf. I only know legends and tall tales. You got the know how to do it.”

The gunslinger was silent as he thought. He had been on his way to San Francisco. Getting caught on a job on the way was not his goal. But before continuing his journey there was a couple of days to kill.

Mind made up he said, “I can help you find it. And I will take that drink you offered. ”

Ross muttered in disgust as Carter nodded enthusiastically, pouring whiskey. “Thank you. You will get paid nicely. The other coal mine owners will be arriving in a couple of days. They will be more than happy to pay once it’s dead.” Carter swallowed. “It is just the one, right?”

Jed gave a toast. “Here’s to hoping.” He drained the glass, enjoying the harshness of the drink. Immediately, Jed dismissed the idea in his mind. No chance only one werewolf was in the area. Man never wanted to be alone in his suffering, constantly seeking like-minded people. If there was one werewolf, there would be another. Jed just prayed there wasn’t enough for a pack. “Tell me what enemies Mr. Miller had.”

Carter looked uncomfortable. “You think he was murdered?” He quickly clarified, “For a reason?”

“The body was not eaten nor dragged away. The mutt, or werewolf, killed him and left. Since it was not a feeding, the mutt killed him for another reason.”

“Your opinion, huh?” Ross needlessly antagonized.

Jed gave him the briefest glance of utmost contempt. Sheriff Carter tugged at the brim of the hat he placed in his hands. “Give me a moment. Not to speak ill of the dead, but the citizens of Hickory did not like him much. They were always at odd. He wanted to buy more of the land for the coal deposits. The owner refused, the thought of gold was more valuable to him then cash. That got him mad. Later Ed ran for mayor. He only won because all of coal miners voted for him. What made folk here really mad was none of them live in Hickory. The coal miners have a camp closer to the mine. Ever since they tried to get him out of office and he’s tried to buy the land.”

Ross hawked. “He did not care much for making friends.”

“Sheriff, you will need to speak with the townspeople.” Carter was staring forlornly. Jed sighed. “Okay, we will need to talk with them.”

More relaxed, Carter said, “Most will be at the gold mine right now. “

“Talk to the neighbors, see if they heard anything. Ask everyone about any strange occurrences. Someone is bound to have noticed something. Speaking of which, what about you two?”

After a slight hesitation, Carter shook his head. Deputy Ross insisted he hadn’t either. Jed clapped his legs. “Excuse me sheriff, I’ll take the time to see the sights.”

The first course of action was to check the gold mine. Ed Miller’s death was not a random feeding, plenty of other choices would have sufficed for a feeding. There was a purpose to it. That placed the prime suspect for gold miners. A werewolf did not lose all thought when transforming. In a number of cases, the human decided his prey. Taking his horse out of the stable, Jed followed the dusty trail to the mines.

Rising ground and rocky terrain marked the way to the mine. Not to distant were actual hills blotted with holes. From what he could see, people were mining wherever their gut got excited. Overlooking the area was a small shack. Barely, Jed could make out a figure, sitting outside. Prodding his horse, the gunslinger ascended his horse. The house was further past any of the potshots of mineshafts.

An old man sat out front, under the shade of the house. Lying on his lap was a double barreled shotgun. The ancient codger was made of skin and bones, hair coming out it wisps and the skin spotted like old parchment. The ramshackle house was a perfect fit for the man. Ten men would feel uncomfortable inside a house that was not much bigger than Jed’s room. Jed stepped off his horse and approached smoothly. Despite his age, the eyes that followed Jed were hard and sharp. He might have lost his teeth but his mind was still sharp.

“Ah, a fancy pants gunslinger. What do you want?” He called out.

Jed stopped walking and replied, “Just a couple of words with the owner of the gold mine.”

“Yeah, I’m Hicks.” The grouchy man said. “And you just had a couple of words. But I reckon you’ll want another couple. So say your piece.”

“I’m much obliged for your time,” Jed said. “Ed Miller was murdered recently”

“So I heard.” There might have been a low chuckle with those words.

“I heard you quarreled with him. He wasn’t too fond of you. Nor you him.”

Hicks squinted his eyes. “Shouldn’t the Sheriff be asking these questions?”

“I’m sure he will. In the meantime you can answer mine.” Jed posed his next question. “You notice any of the miners coming at odd times. Gone some days or out late?”

“Nope.” Hicks said, daring Jed to say he was wrong.

Jed pressed, “You sure?”

Hicks leaned forward, “Look sonny, I don’t watch them come in. I just make sure they pay me and keep those damn coal miners stay away from my mine.”

Hardly a mine, Jed thought. There was no organization or sense. “Have there be any fights between the miners?”

“Not recently. Ever since they’ve gotten armed guards at the mines.”

Jed was surprised. “Really?”

Hicks spat, the wet saliva instantly drying on the ground. “Mainly at night. I can see them from my seat. I reckon they don’t want us sabotaging their stuff.” Hicks gave a toothless grin. “Not that we need to. We’ve got the gold.”

Jed glanced where Hicks pointed a shriveled finger. There was another building down below. Except it was made of logs, and likely held actual rooms. Jed could also see the coal mine. The mine stretched to the edge of his vision. Past it lay the camp, however, he could not see that far.

“Thank you for your time.” Jed climbed back to his horse. “One last question. Did you name the town?”

Hicks smiled once more. “I named it after me,” he said. “My name is Hickory. I just shorten it. Never thought I would get a town named after me, so I took the first opportunity I got.”

Jed chuckled and rode away. He moved down toward the dark building. Coming from the rear, he did not have a clear view of the operation until he rode around. He observed the work for a moment. There were, in fact, guards. Standing guard under wide brimmed hats, they walked among the many workers. Several carts filled with coal, were being dragged from the mine. Jed asked one of them men working with a mine cart for the foreman. He informed Jed, that the boss was in the headquarters.

Weaving his horse through storage shacks, tracks, miners, and wagons the gunslinger reached the large log house. It was surprising to see a structure like it in this dry environment. Transporting the materials would have taken an expensive effort. Jed had to admire the out of place building. Polished and strong it was the opposite of Hicks’ self-made shack. Inside, the coal mine headquarters was gloomy and quiet. The windows were covered in heavy drapes and lamps burned low. The change in temperature was shocking, the sweat cooling on his brow. Maybe because he had the chance to clear his throat of dust, Jed coughed harshly.

“Who is there?” A man called out.

The foreman was a rough man named Jonathan Reed. Since Miller’s death he had assumed command over the operation. Most of the duties had already been is. Now he was stuck behind a desk, trying to makes sense of numerous papers he rifled through. The foreman had less than Hicks to say. His conversation was obtuse and grudgingly. Like Ross, Jonathon seemed put out with the mere fact Jed was a gunslinger. 

In the end, Jed gleamed no information. On the way back, he explored the miners’ camp. It was a tent city, hundreds of textile huts scattered around a couple of buildings. Two of which were saloons and a third a meager general store. The one in town looked much greater. A lack of appealing places to eat meant noon came and went as he rode. Jed ate lunch using provisions left in his saddlebags. It was a dry lunch and between it and the heat made for a terrible thirst. A thirst not sated by the warm water in his canteen.

He met up with Carter. Together they begin asking around town while Ross went on patrol. The deputy preferred walking aimlessly than question witnesses. They first spoke with people close to the murder scene. That meant a large number of people. Carter gained some confidence and he led the questioning. Jed would interject if the sheriff missed anything. Unfortunately, most did not know anything. They heard little and they discovered only a single scream had cried into the night. Jed asked in general if they noticed any strange happenings. They had not.

At the end of a long day Jed left Carter, promising to resume the next day. Jed was in the need of a drink. Late afternoon the Lucky Strike Saloon had many patrons. The only notable one was Hudson. He was earnestly whispering to Bjorn who was leaning forward. Jed’s mother had always warned his curiosity would land him in hot water. Unable to help himself he silently approached the bar. Somehow both men heard him. Hudson turned around fidgeting with his spectacles.

Bjorn stood up and said, “You look in need of a drink.”

Jed appreciatively took a shot. The whiskey was smooth and burned as it went down. Tapping for another Jed questioned Bjorn about his patrons. “You ever seen anything strange about your patrons? Have you noticed some regulars avoiding certain nights?”

Hudson gave Bjorn a worried glance. Jed caught the look and faced the station master. “What about you Hudson? Seen anything?”

Furiously rubbing his spectacles, he stuttered, “No, no. It’s just a strange question. Gone some nights? That doesn’t sound good.”

Bjorn shook his head. “I haven’t seen nothing either. But looks like you scared Hudson.”

Hudson took quick sips of his drink trying to appear at ease. Jed ordered a beer and sat at a table in the corner, thinking. He calculated what tonight was on the lunar cycle. Most gunslingers kept track of the full moon. With more than a week till the next full moon he was facing a dead end. Assuming no one had anything to add, then the only other chance he had was to try the saloons at the coal mine. For the most part, he had given up finding specific information regarding the attack. Hudson began whispering to Bjorn again. Jed tried to read their lips, frowning when he couldn’t make out the words.

The next day they split, asking different folk. It must have seemed desperate talking to those at the other end of town. Before lunch, Jed traveled to the mining camp. Lunch was served upon long tables, seating dozens. He talked to miners as they ate, interrupting many meals. While animosity could be heard in their words, they were not overtly hostile. For a good reason. The two pieces of iron, gleamed as the strongest deterrent. Lunch ended leaving the gunslinger with the cleaning staff. To pass the time when work ended, he rode.

After dinner, he let them eat in peace, Jed rode back. The camp was mostly empty when Jed arrived. The two saloons had sucked up all the miners. Animated and clamorous shouts flowed from the doors. Facing each other across a dusty street, the two saloons were shabby compared to the Lucky Strike. Inside the first one the mood hardly noticed the arrival of the gunslinger. Already drunk their moods were unshaken by the arrival man wearing two guns.

However, the bartenders were unhelpful, giving the same answer as Bjorn, without the politeness. Everyone tried to brush his inquires off. Happy to leave Jed went across to the other saloon. This crowd was not as jovial as the other. Someone must have tipped them off. A somewhat hushed silence fell over several of the patrons. Jed could feel their stares on his back. The type of stares that made a man caress his guns. Resisting the urge he went to the bar. Jed managed to get a drink and a noncommittal answer to a question before the bartender left.