Lockhart's Legacy (Vespari Lockhart Book 1) (7 page)

He held up five fingers.

“Five rounds, huh? Alright, then.” Leaning down, she picked up a satchel and started placing a few sundries inside. “I’ll see you’re stocked for traveling then. Give you a discount too. Anything special you’re looking for?”

“Any b-b-bullets?”

She shrugged and winced at the same time, continuing to drop boxes and cans into the satchel. “Got some. I s’pose, but it’s rare we get any new bullets this far out. What caliber you need?”

“F-f-forty f-f-five,” he replied.

Brigette nodded and stopped packing. ”I’ll check the back room.”

While the woman was gone, Lockhart sifted through what she’d packed him. The supplies were enough to last him a few weeks if he stretched them out. Given his need to travel, they would do. Brigette soon returned, and she held something in her right hand.

“I have a grand total of one,” she told him.

“I’ll t-t-take it,” Lockhart replied.

Brigette placed the cartridge on the counter and asked, “You need anything else?”

“Mad lotus,” he said, eyes unblinking.

The woman stared at him for a moment, studying him. “Isn’t that stuff illegal?”

“O-o-only along the coast,” he replied.

Brigette continued to stare a bit longer before replying. “Well. I guess you’re not exactly a law man, but it’s gonna cost you, vespari or not.”

She pulled a keyring from her pocket and leaned down below the counter. Lockhart heard her slide the key into a lock and pop it open. A door swung open, and after a moment, Brigette returned with an open humidor with different types of mad lotus stored inside.

“Do you want to chew it or smoke?” she asked.

“Ch-ch-chew,” he replied.

She sifted through a few types with her finger. “And how powerful should it be?”

“I need the v-v-v-visions.”

“Mm, very well,” Brigette said, picking up one of the branches of mad lotus. “How much are you willing to spend?”

Lockhart held up two fingers.

“Alright,” she replied with a nod. “Seven total then. I’ll throw in the bullet for free. Not going to do me much good anyway.”

Retrieving a pair of clippers from the humidor, Brigette cut the mad lotus down to a size appropriate for his payment and then placed it in a small brown paper bag. She then slipped it and the bullet in with the rest of his things.

Brigette looked up at him with a pleasant smile. “Will that be all?”

He nodded, retrieved the silver rounds, and handed them to her.

“You have a good day then,” she told him.

Lockhart nodded again and picked up the satchel, slinging it over his shoulder. The vespari then turned and left the shop. He had one more stop to make before he left Abilene. He pulled the canteen from his duster pocket, unscrewed the lid, and took a heavy swig as he headed for the well. Once he’d refilled the canteen at the well, he was ready to leave.

Despite not knowing which direction to go, he needed to leave town. The mad lotus would help him pick up the beldam coven’s trail, but chewing the stuff could be dangerous, and he’d rather not be around anyone when he did. He needed to find a secluded spot where he could chew it in peace.

Leaving town, Lockhart tended to a few minor things. He reloaded his revolver and counted how many he had left. Six in the chamber, four in his pouch, and one that needed to have the runes carved into it. He’d never been this low before, but he had little choice in the matter. He’d have to make them do. As he walked, he also checked his funds. He’d operated at a loss in Abilene, spending seven and only making four. That put his silver rounds at a grand total of five. Things weren’t going to be easy. They never were though.

After about a half hour of travel, Lockhart found a single, leafless tree in those wastes. It didn’t cast much of a shadow, but it was better than nothing. Better than sitting down to chew his mad lotus in the light of the scorching sun. Arriving there, Lockhart pulled the bag of mad lotus from his new satchel and then dropped the bag beside the tree. Sitting down, he put his back to the tree and pulled out his knife. He proceeded to cut off a portion of the mad lotus and placed the rest back inside the bag and then the satchel as well. Putting away the knife, Lockhart slid the piece into his mouth and started to chew. A few minutes passed, and then his mind drifted far away from that lone tree in the scorching desert.

***

Thunder roared overhead, and a bolt of lightning split the sky in half. Several more strikes followed the cracking lightning, each accompanied by a rumble of thunder. They sounded odd, different from those in a normal storm. They sounded more like gunfire, but his vision moved on from them before he could understand completely.

Next, he saw a wicked little smile. The rest of the face was darkly lit but unpleasant all the same. The skin looked tarnished by time. Faded and pale. Dead. The image backed up to show a silhouette. A gunslinger in black. A narrow, tall hat with a wide brim shadowed his face, but that smile persisted all the same, now accompanied by yellow, glowing eyes.

The words ‘Barrow Ranch’ replaced the image of the gunslinger, emblazoned on a swinging wooden sign. The sign came with another bolt of lightning and roar of thunder. He’d heard of the ranch, not far from Abilene, but Lockhart had never had cause to travel there before.

His mind didn’t linger on the ranch’s sign, his vision next showing him a woman’s figure. Details were scarce, but he intuited that she was angry. At him? He couldn’t say. Rage and violence seethed off her, but Lockhart had no way of explaining it. Even as tough as he was, the vespari had a hesitancy to engage this vision any further, and he tried to pull away from it, not understanding how it connected to the beldam coven.

Next came a silence and a white blindness. He feared he had ruined the vision by attempting to steer it. This whiteness went on longer than he would’ve liked. He felt trapped and isolated, but he felt eyes on him, all the same. The vision backed away. It wasn’t blindness. It was snow. The beldam coven was somewhere to the north, somewhere cold enough to have snow.

Then came a cackling. One of the beldams. Each of their faces flashed in his mind. All four wicked and hideous faces. They laughed at him. Laughed at his peril. Mocked him.

Lockhart was grateful when they soon vanished, but the Caustic Brand, which they had inked into his flesh, took their place. The image became more specific, showing its place on his chest. Blood trickled from the mark, running over the vespari tattoos. The ink set ablaze at its touch, and he howled in agony. Not just in his mind either. His body writhed from the pain so much so that it woke him from the mad lotus’s vision.

Night had come, and a storm’s rain dripped down on his slumped over body. He was soaked, the tree having offered little protection from the storm brewing overhead. He sat up, trying to hide under the brim of his cowboy hat, as he pondered the visions the mad lotus had given him. Most of it was vague and difficult to trace, but there had been one detail that he could clearly follow - the Barrow Ranch. That would have to be his next stop then.

Looking up, the storm didn’t look to be anywhere near stopping, and he didn’t relish the idea of trying to sleep in that state. Spitting the last remnants of the mad lotus from his mouth, Lockhart stood and collected his bag. North then to the Barrow Ranch. He just wished he knew why.

***

Lockhart traveled on foot for a couple of days. He wished he still had his horse, which he’d lost at the same time as most of his supplies, but he’d manage all the same. When he got closer to the Barrow Ranch, a fresh storm cropped up. There was very little rain. It was mostly thunderous rumbling and lightning crashing down to the ground. The storm wasn’t all he saw though.

The vespari started to see strange things along his travels. More and more loose cattle roamed the area the closer he got to the Barrow Ranch. Had they gotten free from their pen, or were the ranchers moving them? He had to assume the former, as they spread out too much and no one accompanied them. Something had gone awry at the ranch, it seemed.

Night had taken over by the time he was within eyeshot of the ranch. If he hadn’t been so close, he would’ve called it a day and got some rest. Given the nature of things, he decided to press on and see what had happened ahead.

When he caught sight of the fence surrounding the area, Lockhart saw that they’d been broken. A few scarce cattle remained in the pens, but they could easily make their way out if they wanted. Stepping over a section still half up, he headed for the house he could see in the distance.

No light peered out through the windows. Not that he expected any light. Not after the disarray their cattle was in. Under normal circumstances, he would’ve expected them to be out wrangling them, but he suspected that wasn’t the case. Getting closer, he saw the front door was open, swinging and creaking in the wind. A few of the windows had broken or absent panes of glass, the curtains flapping wildly from the storm. Retrieving his revolver, Lockhart kept moving.

Stepping up on the porch, he still didn’t see any sign of life inside. His mad lotus vision had brought him there for a reason though. Lockhart had to know why. The vespari pushed the door out of the way and walked inside the house. The whole place was a wreck. Someone or something had overturned the furniture and thrown things across the room. Broken glass and shattered porcelain covered the floor, but what bothered him most was the blood sprayed over everything.

The metal smell of the blood filled the air, but there was something else. Lockhart sniffed. Gunpowder and smoke. Someone had put up a fight against whatever did this; that much was obvious.

Had the beldams been involved? This seemed unlike them. Messy enough for them, certainly, but he couldn’t see the value in attacking these people, even if they were just hungry. He had to know what had done this, and so he decided to move in and investigate.

There was something familiar about the way the blood splattered against the wall near the kitchen. Lockhart approached it, crunching glass under his boot, but the blood confused and mesmerized him. Getting closer, he realized what it was that he recognized about it. The blood spatter had to have come from a gunshot. He’d relied on his revolver enough to know the blood such a thing leaves behind. The only problem with his supposition was that there wasn’t a body left to prove it. With all the blood loss apparent in that house though, someone had to have died. Multiple people in all likelihood.

Lockhart continued through the house, searching for a survivor or even a body. There was nothing. He found the kitchen ransacked. All the food was gone, preventing him from updating his stocks. The vespari also found a gun rack where a rifle had hung, but it was missing now along with all the ammunition. There was nothing there for him, but as he was about to leave, he saw something he’d so far missed.

Written in blood on the back of the front door was a message. ‘The Gentleman Appreciates Your Hospitality.’ Lockhart had no indication as to what those words meant, but he knew this wasn’t the work of the beldams. This was something else. The Gentleman? He’d never heard that name before, and there was no real evidence that this was a monster. In fact, everything pointed to a human except for the simple fact that there were no bodies left behind. Why would a man kill these people and then take all their bodies?

The mad lotus vision had brought him there for a reason, and though he couldn’t say what it was, he wanted to know what had happened at that ranch. Needed to know. Stepping outside onto the porch, Lockhart found boot prints in the dirt in front of the house. More than just one set. Several different sizes and styles. Whatever had happened there, a group of people left when it was done. Together.

Walking out into the dirt a ways, he kneeled to examine the tracks closer. It wasn’t just sets of boot prints. He found evidence of horse hooves. From what he could piece together, a group of people set out on foot. After that, another person on horseback had followed them. Then that’s what he was doing too, he decided.

Lockhart didn’t want to make that journey on foot though, especially since it was clear they’d left some time prior. He needed to catch up with them and a horse was the best way of doing so. The barn door opened and banged shut against its frame in the wind, garnering his attention. The cattle had escaped, but maybe a horse remained in the barn, he thought.

Standing up from the tracks, he walked to the barn, door still crashing against the frame with each gust of wind. The silver and pearl revolver stayed gripped in his hand. He hadn’t found anything yet, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t any danger there. Just after the door slammed shut again, Lockhart stuck the toe of his boot between the door and the frame. Pulling his foot back, he opened the door and slunk inside. Once he was in, the door crashed again at his back, failing to startle him. His nerves were still and cold.

Lockhart’s eyes peered into the darkness of the barn, only a couple windows full of starlight shining in. There were six stalls for the horses on either side, but the doors were open. Someone had let them go. He crept forward, still hoping that one door remained latched. Nearing the end of the barn, he heard something move. The crinkling of the hay at the ground. Pushing against the wood of the walls. A horse, a survivor, or something he’d have to put a bullet in. Moving ahead, he meant to find out which.