Chapter 6
Conn rode through the darkness, grinning to himself.
He couldn’t wait to see Cole. It had been a long time.
And he couldn’t wait to meet his wife, Mary. From what Cole said, she was the finest woman to ever live and full of frontier spirit.
Conn was happy for them.
His brother had always been a hard worker and a saver and had never bothered with all the foolishness that Conn seemed to ride into over and over again. Drinking, fighting, chasing women… Cole had never gone in for any of that.
When they were young, Conn tried to tell Cole everything he was missing, but his brother just kept his head down, worked hard, and did his best to live by scripture.
Which was a stark and joyless life in Conn’s eyes.
Or at least that’s how he’d viewed things over most of his time. But a man rides the rough trail long enough, he starts to see the wisdom of the peaceful homesteader.
Truth be told, he wasn’t sure he had what it took to hold up his end of the deal his brother was offering. He didn’t know if he could even stay put and steer clear of trouble, let alone sink roots and build something of his own.
But the idea did appeal. In fact, with every passing day, that appeal grew stronger.
Maybe I’m just excited to see Cole again after all these years, Conn thought, riding down the road that led to his brother’s farm.
He pictured his brother’s face, imagining Cole’s reaction when he saw Conn.
They’d be in bed by now, it having been dark for a couple of hours.
He wouldn’t wake them. Unless they had a dog. Then the dog would wake them for him.
But if there wasn’t a dog, he’d just bed down someplace nearby. In the barn Cole mentioned, if he’d had time to finish it. Otherwise, wherever he found to stretch out, probably on top of the hay, which was likely sitting under a lean-to if the barn wasn’t finished yet.
Honestly, Conn hoped the barn wasn’t finished. It would be good to work alongside his brother again, and it would be nice to give Cole and Mary a meaningful hand with their homestead.
Whatever the case, he’d find someplace to lay his head and let old Cole find him sleeping like that in the morning.
Of course, Mary might be the first one outside. From the sounds of it, she was a worker.
It was a funny thought, her going out there and seeing him and maybe thinking for a second that it was Cole laying there, sleeping in the barn.
He chuckled to himself, excited to see family no matter how it played out.
Or so he thought.
But as soon as he turned into his brother’s lane, he felt trouble hanging in the chilly air like a poisonous mist.
Then, drawing closer, he saw the embers and knew the house had burned.
He reined in his black gelding and sat there, studying the scene.
The house was gone. There was no sign of anyone anywhere.
By the light of the moon, he saw the lane was full of fresh tracks, but he saw no sign of whatever horses had furrowed the ground.
His heart was pounding now, but he felt cold, cold all through, and when he called his brother’s name, his voice sounded strange to his own ears, high and frightened.
“Cole?” he called again. “Mary?”
Silence.
He didn’t bother calling again. Something was wrong here. Maybe very wrong.
He swung down from the saddle and ground hitched the gelding and unfastened the hammer loop to his Remington.
He rested one hand on the butt of the revolver as he approached the smoldering ruin, ready to draw.
But there was no one, nothing, only destruction.
He might have suspected the house had burned by accident, as houses sometimes do, if it hadn’t been for all those hoofprints.
Of course, those could be the tracks of neighbors who’d come to help.
Could be. But he doubted it.
Seemed more likely that somebody had burned Cole and Mary out.
Who would do such a thing? And why?
These questions whipped through his mind. He didn’t try to answer them.
By the ghastly moonlight, he walked away from the house, scanning the darkness.
“Cole?” he called. “Mary?”
Silence again.
There was enough moonlight to see by, especially once his eyes adjusted again, which was good because he didn’t want to have to light a lantern and investigate with it in front of his chest.
That was a good way to get shot. Maybe even by his own brother, who didn’t know he was coming.
But after hollering for Cole several more times, he didn’t figure his brother was out there with a rifle.
Maybe Cole had lit out for a neighbor’s or town. Or maybe he was hurt, too hurt to answer Conn’s call.
What about Mary?
That’s when he spotted the makeshift stable and corral.
The horsemen had broken down the fence. There was no stock to be seen.
Filled with dread, Conn went back to the gelding and got back into the saddle and rode the property close to the house, looking for any signs of what might have happened here or where his brother and his wife might be.
The riders had come up to the house then gone back a short distance toward that big cottonwood.
Conn followed their tracks in that direction, dread swelling in his chest.
And then, when he got up close to the tree, the ghastly scene awaiting him there hardened that dread into a knife of terror and revulsion that plunged straight into Conn’s heart.