Vampire Western
Chapter 2
Chapter 2
The Suspect
The drifter found himself waking unable to recall where he was or how he happened to be there once again. Only this time it was in jail cell, bandaged around the abdomen and chained to the bed with barely enough slack to reach the basin in the corner of the cell. It hardly mattered, seeing as he could barely lift his head on account of the injury to his chest feeling like mule sitting on him. The herbs and dressing on the bandages also made him weak and light headed.
The deputy sat on the other side of the bars, leaning his chair on its hind legs with his feet on the table as he polished his rifle. It was the same deputy from the saloon, which brought back the memory of what transpired before the stranger woke up in the cell. “Hey!” The drifter called out, startling the deputy half out of his seat. “Any chance I can get some water.”
“Like hell,” the deputy sneered. “You ain’t getting nothing til the sheriff gets you talkin.”
“Where’s my horse?”
“You shut your mouth! Give me any lip and you’ll be getting the butt of my rifle.” He struck the air with his rifle to intimidate the feeble prisoner. “Now you just stay put while I go fetch the sheriff.” The prisoner lifted the chain wrapped around his wrist in response.
The Mayor’s mansion was at the edge of the town and the Sheriff had been working closely with the mayor to put an end to all the Vanishings that had been going on. The men were playing billiards, drinking whiskey, and smoking cigars as they discussed matters. “Do you really believe the man you detained is responsible for the Vanishings?” Asked the mayor, a short finely dressed gentleman with a waxed mustache.
“Hell, he’d better be,” chuckled the sheriff as his struck the balls with the cue stick. He was a tall portly middle aged man with a scruffy gray beard and large upper build. “I’m sick and tired of all the damn fairy tales about monsters and ghosts. The missus has me up all night checking the kids, and the hogs, and the horses.”
“Why haven’t you spoken me about that? I’d be more than happy to come over and pray with your wife,” offered the opportunistic priest.
“I’m sure you would, Father; but she’ll be alright, seeing as how there ain’t been no vanishings since I’ve got this prisoner in my jailhouse.”
“Have you had a chance to interrogate him? I’m awful curious to know how one man was able to pull all of this off or perhaps he has a gang,” The mayor wondered.
“Well…” the sheriff was about to answer.
“And how do you explain the injuries that nearly killed him?” The priest interrupted. “Surely you don’t think little Margery was capable of leaving marks like that.”
“I wouldn’t rule it out,” the sheriff chuckled. “Ole Burt’s girls are fighters. Didn’t you hear how Alethia punched him cold? He ain’t woken up since.”
“Hell of a way to react to your sister’s death,” the mayor poured another glass of whiskey.
“We all grieve in different ways. God bless her heart,” the priest prayed. “Its been a while since they’ve been to church. I ought to pay them a visit at the farm tomorrow.”
“You’d have better luck catching her at the jailhouse,” the sheriff informed him. “She’s been tending to the prisoner’s wounds everyday before and after her shift at Big Thelma’s saloon.”
“Curious,” said a man who sat quietly in a dark corner of the room.
“What was that you said Crenshaw?” Asked the Sheriff.
“I find it curious that she tends to the man’s wounds when he could very well be responsible for her sister’s murder. Perhaps she doesn’t think so.” Crenshaw was a thin pale wealthy business man who owned the oil company and half of Taylor.
“You know women. They feel guilty for hitting a man then they gotta do something good to make her feel better about herself.”
“Its called penance, sheriff,” the priest educated him.
“Well my wife just calls it baking an apple pie after flying of the handle on me like that,” he roared in laughter. Suddenly the deputy opened the door. “Sheriff, the prisoner’s awake.”
The Sheriff and deputy hurried into the jailhouse to speak with the prisoner but found him asleep. “He dead?” Asked the Sheriff. The deputy got a scoop of water and splashed it on the sleeping prisoner. He woke up with a start, gasping for air.
“There’s your water, now talk!” demanded the deputy.
“You’ve got the wrong guy, sheriff.” The prisoner pleaded.
“We’ll see about that, won’t we?” The sheriff pulled up a chair and sent the deputy to keep an eye on the door. He licked the pencil to write on a piece of parchment. “Now, why don’t you start by telling us your name.”
“Its James,” the prisoner winced as he sat up on the bed.
“We checked your horse and saddlebags but there aint no identification papers. How do we know you are who you say you are? You’re gonna have to be more clear with us.”
“My name is James Roberts and I’m from Bennington, Vermont.”
“And how in the name of all things holy does a boy from Vermont end up all the way out here in Taylor, New Mexico looking the way you do?”
“It’s a long story.”
“Well, you can either tell me the story or you can hang tomorrow at the gallows. I’ll let you decide.”
“Look I didn’t kill that girl,” James winced again. The excitement was aggravating the wound on his chest. “I tried to save her, I swear. But that thing got to her before I had a chance to get it. And it got me too.”
“What thing?” The sheriff asked quietly, leaning in closer.
“I wish I knew. Never got a chance to see it. It moved so damn fast and it was so dark. One moment I saw her running, and I held my rifle to shoot whatever was following her, but the next moment she was gone. I turned back for a second to check on my horse and before I knew it I was on my back with my chest cut open.”
“And how did you know she belonged to this town?
“I didn’t know for sure but I was heading in this direction on my way west. I saw her running from what seemed to be this direction…”
“Why risk bringing her here?”
James hung his head low. “I tried to save her. I just couldn’t. It was too fast… In a way I felt like I had no other choice because I failed to stop that thing from killing her. Her family deserved better. I shoulda been dead in that open plain with her.”
The sheriff was at a loss for words and even felt sorry for the stranger. He stood up and adjusted his trousers. “I wish I believed you young man but we haven’t had a vanishing since you been locked up, so I’ve got no reason to doubt that you’re responsible.”
“What’s going to happen to me?”
“Thats up to the mayor to decide, but the people want you to hang for Margery’s murder.”
“Don’t I get a trial?”
“Boy, this ain’t Vermont. You’re in the New Mexico. We are the law. You better pray something goes missing tonight or you’re going to the gallows tomorrow.”
