The Circuit Rider (9 page)

H
appiness
was a bottle in the saddlebag, Bird thought. A full bottle.

She
stopped on the first rise outside of town, pulled out the bottle, popped the
cork, and took a long drink.

Rifle
Creek was northwest of town, a few miles over slightly hilly terrain. Bird set
the Appaloosa at a slow trot and headed in that direction.

Her
thoughts turned to Mike Tower.

For
the most part, she was openly skeptical of all men, for good reason. Most of
the men she’d known in her life had tried to hurt her in one way or another.

But
there was something different about Mike Tower. Because, in reality, she had no
reason to believe him. Maybe he really did rape that woman. However, Bird had
survived as long as she had by being able to read other people, mostly men. And
there was something about Mike Tower, his foolish notions of religion aside,
that spoke to Bird’s intuition.

She
believed him.

The
curve of water presented itself over the next rise. Bird stopped and let her
horse drink. The current was swift even though the creek was merely a few yards
wide.

When
the Appaloosa lifted her head and waited, Bird nudged the horse forward. They
climbed several ridges; the grass was dry but thick. Swaths of purple clover occasionally
interrupted the broad expanses of green and light brown.

According
to Larkin, the dry goods store owner, Susan Arliss and her husband lived on a
spread less than a mile from the creek’s first big bend. Bird passed the bend
and within minutes had spotted a flash of white set back from the creek on a
raised shelf of land.

Bird
slowed the Appaloosa to a walk and approached the camp. She had been expecting
a house, perhaps a sod house or at least a hastily built home of fresh lumber;
after all, she’d heard that the couple had only arrived a few months earlier.

However,
there was no house. No corral. What Bird found was a ring of rocks to
make a campfire, and a tent structure that was falling down, with a few stray
patches of canvas cloth fluttering in the wind.

There
was no sign of any people.

What
a terrible spot for a camp
,
Bird thought. The wind ripped along the creek, and its inertia carried it directly
to the camp, where there were no trees to serve as a windbreak. The slope
behind the shelf of land also most likely poured rainwater down toward the
creek.

There
was no recent sign of tracks.

Bird
pulled the whiskey bottle out and took another drink, leaning on the saddle’s
pommel as she considered her options.

She
slipped the bottle back into its saddlebag and walked the Appaloosa toward the
creek.

Something
seemed odd.

There
was no way two people who were setting up a ranch would live in this tent in
this place for this long.

The
wind gusted and the horse shifted as Bird decided to walk along the creek,
headed north. Perhaps there were more buildings ahead, or this was just an
outpost and not the actual homestead of the Arliss clan.

The
Appaloosa snorted and sidestepped quickly away from the creek. Bird had her gun
in her hand as she surveyed the grassy prairie surrounding them.

Nothing.

So
what had spooked the big horse?

Bird
slid from the saddle and approached the creek. Maybe there was a coyote patrolling
the area, although there hadn’t been many animal tracks near the campfire.

She
got to the creek, where the surface of the water reflected rays from the late
afternoon sun.

There
was a flash of white in the water. As Bird peered closer into the creek, she
saw a face looking back at her.

For
a brief moment, she wondered if it was her own reflection, but then came
recognition.

Susan
Arliss.

M
ike
Tower was able to smell his new cell mate before he could see him.

Sheriff
Ectors’s voice growled from the next room, “One step at a time, partner. Straight
ahead.”

A
man with dirt on his face and straw in his hair stumbled through the doorway
into the cell area. His pants were covered with dirt, as was the front of his
shirt.

He
reeked of whiskey and cow shit.

“Sorry
about this, Preacher, but I’ve got a cowboy too full of whiskey to behave. He
needs to get some sleep before he’s ready to face society again.”

Tower
didn’t say anything as Ectors opened the cell door and prodded the cowboy onto
the other cot in the cell. The man collapsed flat on his back and immediately
started snoring.

“I
brought over some supper for you,” Ectors said to Tower. He went back out into
the front office, then reappeared with a plate full of beans and one biscuit. “If
you breathe real deep, you might be able to get a little bit drunk off of the
whiskey fumes from your new neighbor,” Ectors said.

Tower
had no appetite whatsoever, but he ate the food on the plate with a mechanical
efficiency. He had learned the lesson in war well: eat when you can, sleep when
you can, because you never know when either will be in short supply.

He
set the empty plate outside the cell door and lay back on his cot. His fellow
cell mate had stopped snoring, and Ectors had left the office.

There
was silence except for the occasional shout from the street or the sound of a
horse braying.

Tower
wondered what Bird was doing.

Of
all the places he could have imagined, the jail in the town of Prosperity,
Kansas, was the last place he would have expected ending up.

He
wondered if there was a way to contact Father Johnstone back in Saint Louis. What
would he say? I’ve been arrested, send help?

No,
that wouldn’t do.

He
wasn’t about to drag the church into this situation. Tower knew he hadn’t raped
the woman, but there was a chance he knew her.

But
where?

When?

He
closed his eyes and scrolled through the memories, as hazy as they were, trying
to picture the face of Susan Arliss. He imagined her with shorter hair and
longer hair. Heavier and thinner.

The
food in his stomach must have made him sleepy, because soon he felt himself
drift off.

He
dreamed he was back in Missouri somewhere. In his dream, he had been arrested. And
they must have tied his hands, because he couldn’t move them. They weren’t just
arresting him, Tower realized in the dream.

He
was being executed.

Because
they had put something around his neck. It must have been a noose, because it
was getting tighter and tighter and he couldn’t move his hands.

And
then, suddenly, Tower was awake.

His
eyes snapped open to see his cell mate on top of him, straddling him, with his
knees pinning his hands to the cot and his hands around Tower’s throat, choking
him.

Tower
bucked, but the man held on.

Tower
lunged forward, head butting the man. He heard the crunch of cartilage and
figured he’d broken the man’s nose. But the man still held on.

Light
exploded across Tower’s vision, and he knew he was perilously close to passing
out.

He
twisted beneath the man’s weight and managed to free his left hand.

He
corkscrewed his upper body as best he could and clubbed his left fist against
the man’s temple.

His
assailant’s grip on Tower’s throat loosened, and he felt a rush of air as he
inhaled.

The
oxygen boosted him, and he bucked one more time, this time knocking the man off
of him and onto the floor.

Tower
pushed off from his cot and threw himself at the man. He crashed into him as
the man struggled to get to his feet. Tower swung from the hip and smashed a
fist into the man’s mouth. Teeth sprayed onto the stone floor.

The
man weaved in front of Tower and threw a wide, looping left. Tower easily
stepped inside it and gave the man a shot to the body that doubled the man
over, then an uppercut that snapped the man’s head back. When he straightened,
Tower threw a short left hook that connected solidly with the man’s jaw.

Tower
heard bone grind and saw the man’s eyes roll back into his head.

He
fell backward, his head smacking the edge of the steel cot frame with a
sickening snap.

The
man landed on the stone floor, his eyes wide and unmoving.

Tower
drew his breath, still ragged from the shock of the attack and the experience
of nearly being choked to death.

As
he stood, looking down on the man, who was a total stranger to him, only one
question came to Tower’s mind.

What
is happening?

T
he
situation was instantly clear to Bird. The very woman who had accused the man
she was riding with of a heinous crime was now dead, and she, Bird, had
discovered the body.

People
might not believe that Bird found her this way. Instead, they might jump to the
conclusion that she’d killed her in order to solve the problem.

The
best plan of action for Bird was to get the hell out of this place.

Because
if the same group of men who wanted to get their hands on Mike Tower showed up,
they would have some very definite ideas on what to do with Bird.

“Well,
shit,” she said.

Bird
looked down at the woman in the creek.

Susan
Arliss had been a beautiful woman, but someone’s bad intentions had clearly not
been swayed by the woman’s looks.

Bird
looked back at the Appaloosa. It had moved away from the creek and was now tucking
into a thick stand of grass. She scanned the horizon and saw no one
approaching.

She
had time.

Bird
stepped into the creek, wrapped her hands around the woman’s arm, and pulled
the body from the creek. The water was ice-cold, and Bird nearly lost her grip
on the woman. She managed to get Susan Arliss’s upper body from the creek, but
someone had tied large river rocks to the woman’s feet and lower back to pin
her underwater.

But
Bird didn’t need to see the woman’s feet.

Bird
pulled the bowie knife from the sheath on her belt, reached down, and cut the
front of the woman’s dress open. She looked at the woman’s smooth white skin
and the top of her breasts.

There
was no pentagram.

Bird
rolled the woman onto her side and used the knife to cut away the back of the
woman’s dress. The woman’s back was smooth and without any marks.

Bird
had no idea if Toby Raines was in the area, but she had been close to finding
him in Green Spring. And if he was continuing west knowing that Bird was behind
him and hot on his trail, it was more than possible he would have come this
way.

If
he had killed Susan Arliss, he hadn’t left his mark.

And
Bird knew firsthand how important it was for him to do so. How much sick
enjoyment
he got from it.

Bird
pushed the woman back into the creek rather than leave her out for the coyotes.
Her body would be safer in the water. It was an unpleasant thing to do, but
Bird couldn’t afford to tell Sheriff Ectors what she’d found. Bird would have
to wait until she had better information and a better idea of how to free Mike
Tower.

She
walked over to the Appaloosa and swung up into the saddle, then turned the
horse back toward Prosperity.

She
didn’t know what had gone on between this woman and Mike Tower.

And
now, only Mike Tower would ever know.