A Fistful of Horror - Tales Of Terror From The Old West (19 page)

“And the Lord sent fiery serpents among the people and they bit the people; and much people of Israel died before it.”

As this man spoke of serpents biting people, the pain returned to Milton Gray’s stomach. He sucked air into his lungs in an effort to combat the discomfort. The breath caught in his dry throat and sent him into a choking spell.

“At the last it biteth like a serpent and stingeth like an adder.”

Milton Gray, again, passed out in pain.

***

Jasper Holton lay, freshly bathed and shaved, in a small bed beside Melinda. She smiled at him and moved her hand under the thin blanket. Jasper smiled back at her, far from attractive, but very attentive. She had carried buckets full of hot water to fill the large wash tub and shaved him, gently, with a straight razor.

“Miss Melinda,” Jasper almost sang. “I’m not sure this ol’ mustang is quite ready for another ride.”

The woman gently squeezed and pulled Jasper Holton at the same time and giggled into his neck.

“But, Marshall, like the sign says on Grandma’s place…it might be your last chance!”

Melinda reached off the bed with her free hand and snuffed out the three candles that had been burning on her night table. The room went dark, but not still.

***

A quarter mile northwest of Grandma’s and the row of clapboard ladies’ rooms, Tektomah Two Willows sat, motionless, on a small dune. He had traded the white man’s clothes that he wore riding with Marshall Holton for a pair of deerskin pants and buckskin moccasins. With his legs crossed in front of him, Two Willows stared up at the nearly full moon and began a sing-song chant.

Within minutes, Two Willows was deep into a spiritual trance. His breathing and heart slowed. He was oblivious to the night winds blowing dirt, sand and tumbleweeds around him on the hillside. His mind was filled with the light of the moon. In his mind, he went home to an earlier time where he played with other young, Indian children while their mothers spent the day making dinner. The fathers were gone, out hunting buffalo and other free range animals to be used for meat, skin and fat. It was a time of peace for Tektomah and his playmates. It was a time of love for the children…

“Hell!”

Two Willows’ body shook in revolt.

“Hell!”

The light of the moon turned to a menagerie of flashes; yellow, white, red and black. His mind’s ear was shattered by the screams of a man or of many men.

“There is no head above the head of a serpent! Hell!”

Flashes of colour, screams, dry heat and the smell of death filled Two Willows’ mind. His heart raced and he gasped for air. A woman rapidly danced in circles. Her arms were covered with snakes. She danced and twirled her skirt. The snakes seemed to move with her rhythm. She lifted her skirt. More snakes hissed from their coiled positions on her thighs.

“Hell!”

Tektomah Two Willows awoke to find himself lying flat on the ground. He was covered with sweat. The night winds howled, echoing in the canyons a mile to the south. He looked in each direction in an effort to see the young, dancing woman. He searched the ground around him for snakes. Two Willows jumped to a standing position and turned in tight circles to scan the ground all around him.

***

Albert, the barkeep, stirred as the morning sun shone through the window. He moved easily on the small bed trying not to wake the woman beside him. Once a week, the oldest of the saloon’s ladies would allow him to spend the night with her. Wiping his round spectacles on his nightshirt, he put them on and looked at Alice’s face in the sunlight. Her face was wrinkled and weathered as was the rest of her body. It did not matter to Albert. Where else would a little man with a gimp leg find a woman here in Hell, Arizona? The little man laid a gentle kiss on Alice’s forehead, got out of the bed and into his clothes. It was time to get downstairs to the kitchen and light a fire on the stove. The ladies and a few customers would be expecting hot coffee and some breakfast soon.

Albert carried his boots in his hand in an effort to be quiet as he limped along the second floor toward the stairs. As he passed the door to Juanita’s room, he heard movement from inside. Albert stopped and listened. He heard the tired creaking of bed springs and what sounded like a female moan. He listened for more but there was nothing else.

Albert hobbled on toward the stairs. He felt ashamed, having spent the night with Alice, to be wishing that he could have seen into Juanita’s room. Just once, he thought, it would be the pleasure of his routine life to lie in the young Mexican’s bed and revel in the pleasures of her beautiful, bronze body. He knew that it would be so much different than his nights with Alice. But, sitting at the bottom of the stairs pulling his boots on, he realized that spending the night with Juanita came with risks that he, in no way, wanted to take.

Minutes after Albert was in the kitchen, the stove was burning hot under the cast iron skillets. Strong black coffee brewed alongside the melting lard. The air in the kitchen was filled with the smells of a new day. From the main room came the sound of the swinging doors opening and closing. The heavy footfall of boots echoed into the kitchen.

“Albert? Albert, is that coffee hot yet?”

Albert popped his head around the corner.

“Morning, Sheriff Duffy! Give me five minutes, sir.”

Working quickly, scrambling three eggs in one skillet and frying salted cod in another, Albert did not hear the tender footsteps coming down the back stairs into the kitchen. He reached for a plate and caught movement from the corner of his eye. The plate dropped from his hand and crashed to the hardwood at his feet. He gasped as he looked, from mere feet away, at the lovely body of Juanita Gomez that he had just dreamed about.

“You okay in there, Albert?”

The little man jumped at the sound of the Sheriff’s voice from the main room. He could not take his eyes from the young Mexican girl’s nude body. She had never come downstairs like this before. Her eyes were glassed over and her mouth was slightly open. Of course, Albert had a hard time staying focused on any part of Juanita’s body above her neck. Her breasts stood high on their own. The valley, below her navel, was covered with a thick coat of dark hair. Juanita’s entire body was slick with a film of perspiration.

“Uh, yes, Sheriff, yes! Just fine in here. Be right with you.”

He looked, quickly, back at Juanita. This time, he saw the thin trickles of what appeared to be blood running from her mouth. This sudden realization could not prevent him from stealing another peek at her nudity.

“It is time,” Juanita whispered, trance-like. “It is time. I need your help.”

“Yes, my dear, yes.” Albert risked touching the woman on her shoulder. “In a few minutes. You need to go. I will be there soon.”

Juanita turned, without saying anything else and walked toward the stairs. Her bare feet made no noise on the plank flooring. Her backside was just as wonderful as Albert watched her climb toward the second floor.

“Coming, Sheriff, coming! Eggs, cod and coffee on the way!”

***

Outside Grandma’s Last Chance, Marshall Jasper Holton was straightening the flank billet and tightening the cinch around his horse’s belly. He gently patted him on the nose.

“Couple of hours, Smoke.” The chestnut-coloured horse looked at him with dark eyes. “Just a short ride to Hell and you get a real break.”

“There is evil in Hell, Marshall.”

Holton turned toward Two Willows’ voice. The Indian was still dressed in his native garb. His face looked like it had aged years since last evening. There were noticeable streaks of grey in his black hair.

“Two Willows? What the hell is that you are wearing?”

“Evil.” Two Willows ignored the question. “Angry spirits. Demons live in the night.”

Holton was unsure what his guide was talking about. Two Willows ignored the saddle lying on the ground next to this horse. He threw a simple blanket over the animal’s back and mounted.

“We meet demons soon. Your guns no good.”

Two Willows pulled the reins to the right and he rode away, leaving Holton standing and staring. He mounted up as well and tried to catch up to the Indian.

“Sumbitch must have drank some whiskey after all.”

***

Albert struggled with the body. He was larger than most of Juanita’s customers. He pulled the man down the earthen steps far enough to close the cellar door. Once inside, he lit a small oil lamp. Several small snakes coiled and hissed at the intrusion. The dancer picked three of the babies up and hummed a song. The snakes’ anxieties eased immediately.

“We might have to slow down, my dear.” Albert positioned the latest victim between two of the decomposing bodies. “Sheriff Duffy says a U.S. Marshall is coming today. He is to be lookin’ for these cowboys.”

Milton Gray heard voices. He stirred slightly and coughed. Juanita looked in his direction and then at Albert.

“Not sure what happened with this one.” Albert pushed the oil lamp closer to Milton’s face. “The eggs are growing but he just ain’t dying.”

“What the hell…”

Milton could only watch as the whore from the other night stepped over a body and kneeled beside him.

“Help me, darlin’. This man has me all tied down.”

Juanita placed a cool hand on his forehead and hummed. She rubbed and pushed on his stomach and Milton was hit with an attack of immense pain. The lovely woman bent over Milton and he thought she was going to kiss him. His thoughts of her kindness turned to fear in a second. As Juanita leaned over and opened her full lips, Milton saw what looked like eyes blinking at him. He heard the hiss before he saw the forked tongue.

Juanita did, in fact, kiss him. She placed her cold lips over his mouth and hummed. Milton took his last breath as he felt the snake enter his mouth. As Juanita hummed, the snake slid deeper into Milton’s mouth and throat. He fought against his restraints as he tried to breathe. Milton Gray’s last thought was how the snake seemed to grow longer and thicker, as it slithered its way deeper into his body.

Albert stepped away in disgust. This was the first time he had witnessed Juanita’s magic. Her body convulsed time and time again as, Albert imagined, the serpent was making its way out of her and into old Milton Gray. He could tell, by the way her cheeks and lips spread, that the creature was growing. Juanita’s eyes glassed over. Her skin was awash in sweat. Her breasts undulated under her blouse. She collapsed on top of the man’s body and looked as if her bones had given way. From under her white skirt came the telltale sound of the serpent’s rattles.

***

Sheriff Duffy was sweeping out the sole cell in his office. No one had been in it for months except James, the town’s biggest sot. Usually, Duffy just let him lay wherever he passed out. The last time he was in the cell was only because he had stood outside of the church yelling about seeing Satan and serpents and other nonsense. Reverend Mike had asked that Duffy remove him from the grounds. James would not stop yelling so he had had no choice but to put him in the cell overnight.

From behind him, Duffy heard what sounded like a large rattlesnake. He turned to see that Juanita Gomez, from Albert’s saloon, had walked in the front door and was standing quietly next to his desk. She had a strange look on her face. The young lady stood, mouth open but saying nothing.

“Mornin’, Miss Juanita.” Duffy set the broom in the corner of the cell. “Can I help ya with something?”

Duffy walked closer. The pretty woman stepped toward him. Her anklet, as always, gave off the rattlesnake’s greeting.

“Is there something wrong? Something at Albert’s place, ma’am?”

The last thing that Sheriff William Duffy saw was Juanita opening her blouse. Duffy stared, in shock, as the woman’s breasts were moving independently of one another. There seemed to be something inside, or under, them.

“Juanita? What the…”

***

Two Willows, twenty yards ahead of Marshall Holton, pulled hard on the reins. His horse jerked to a stop. When Holton got next to him, the Indian was breathing heavily. His recently aged face was covered with sweat.

“Two Willows? What the hell?”

The guide, slowly, seemed to come around. He looked to the right and left. His eyes seemed to set on Holton’s face. He slowed his breathing and opened his mouth to speak, but no words came.

“Two Willows, what the hell is going on?”

“Evil, Marshall.” Two Willows spat on the ground. “Bad things happen in Hell. Sheriff find bad thing.”

“Sheriff Duffy?” Holton grabbed him by the shoulder. “Are you talking about Sheriff Duffy, over in Hell?”

“Devil come to Sheriff.” He stared into the sun. “Fear Sheriff dead.”

Jasper Holton had no idea exactly what Two Willows was talking about, but he had known William Duffy since the War. If something was happening in Hell, he needed to be there to help his friend.