Blood in the Sand

Blood in the Sand

  The thing about being a lawman is that, you never really can stop being a lawman. It may sound like a cliche, but in my experience it's true. Not only are you so set in your ways that you can't help but look for trouble, but dang it if it don't just find you too. I came to Flagstaff Arizona in eighteen ninety to visit a few friends, I was promised a few weeks of relaxing and talking, I needed a break from the Black Watch case, a name with no hard evidence and congressman in his pocket to boot meant that if I didn't take some time off I would have gone mad.
The Morrison's had a large plantation, Cattle and Grain as far the eye could see, and staffed by a large amount of black folk that Morrison proudly told me he had offered good pay and good jobs to those trapped in the poverty stricken ruins of old Dixie. In fact he was quite proud of how, like Saul on the road he had seen the light and changed after bandits had taken over our train a few years ago and Johnny Morrison, a committed KKK member, had his life saved by a heroic black fella, and while I was happy for him and how happy he was with his new life, it didn't take long for me to tire of his constant talk about the economics and logistics of his farm and start to look for a distraction, and soon one fell right into my lap, or rather it walked right in the door.
“Deputy Barns!” My host stated in a friendly way offering the young man entry into the house. “What brings you out this way?”
The young man hooked his hat on the rack and slumped into a chair. “Just looking for water and place to rest before ah have to head out to the badlands outside Widow Lacroix's place. I swear Sheriff Hanks is a slavedriver!”
“I doubt he's that bad.” I stated with a laugh as Johnny cleared his throat awkwardly.
“Well good lord, if it ain't you!” Barns stated leaning up. “Well you can call this day a surprise.”
I nodded. “Yes, never thought the infamous Red Reaper would end up a town Deputy!”
“Well, sometimes it just takes the right person telling you a few hard truths to make you change things around.”
Buck used to be a bandit back before we caught him and forced him to help us against some other bandits, despite having saw dust between his ears, he apparently took good use of the second chance he got.
“What's happened at Widow Lacroix's place?” The charming Ms Scarlet Morrison asked walking gracefully into the room. “I hope she's okay, do we need to send any of the boys over?”
Deputy Barns shook his head. “Naw, ain't her, some Injin trader found a body on his way into town so of course I have to go look at it.”
I was itching for something to do so I offered to go with him, as did Johnny, Buck was quite happy for the company, and soon we set off on some of Johnny's horses across town out to the Widow's place.
It was a large plantation style house atop a tall hill, though once covered in lively paint and brilliant gardens, these had faded and filled with weeds from lack of maintenance. The owner of the house, a spindly woman of forty was dressed in a black velvet mourning dress and was sitting on her porch with a rifle long before we even approached the house.
“Good morn'n maam” Buck said in a pleasant voice towards veiled woman.
“Iz zee one perzon you love alive today?” She asked in a diluted french accent.
Buck hesitated. “Well, my ma is alive if that's what you mean?”
The woman's head nodded. “Zhen for you it iz a good day maybe, but not for me. And it will be lezz good for you if you don't get off my land now.”
“Ms Lacroix, if I may.” Johnny spoke up, and the dark veil turned to face him.
“Mr Morrison, today iz not a good day for company.”
Johnny nodded. “My apologies ma'am, I wish this were a social call, but unfortunately there was a murder just out in the desert and we needed to let you know were passing through.”
The woman's veil tilted. “Murder you zay? Zhat zounds, interezting. I wish I could help.”
“Did you see anything?” Buck asked. “I heard tell you see everything up here.”
Despite being veiled it felt as though the widow was glaring harshly. “I don't like talking to lawmen, or iz it bandit? To anzwer your queztion, I didn't see anyzhing. What type of man interrogatez a grieving widow?” She asked coldly.
“Your husband has been dead for four years!” Buck replied, angry at his past being drug up.
The widow Lacroix's veiled head tilted again. “No, it can't be zhat long, I remember him dying in my armz, it waz, not long ago, you are wrong.” She replied, her voice suddenly quiet.
Johnny motioned towards the house. “Ms Lacroix, can I help you with anything? I can go inside any make you some....”
“NO! The widow interjected. “Juzt, go! Go find zhe murder or whatever, leave me alone!” She ordered in a suddenly enraged voice.



By the time we crossed the widow's lands and made it out into the desert it was afternoon, and it didn't take long to find the body, just where Buck assured us the trader had said, about half a mile in the desert by a big old three topped cactus.
“Well, that ain't a pretty picture.” I state as the buzzards fly away from the corpse. “He ain't been here long has he?”
Johnny nodded, poking the body with a shovel he'd had the foresight to bring. “Buzzards just started on him, I'd reckon at most this morning.”
“And I'd say that hole in the back of his skull was probably the cause of death.”
Buck nodded. “We should probably see if we can find out who he is.” We all sat in silence for a minute, all looking at the body awkwardly. “So, we should probably flip him over.” Buck continued.
“We? You're the lawman here.” Johnny stated offering him the shovel.
Buck groaned and dismounted, before gingerly flipping the body over. “Well, I ain't surprised.”
Johnny nodded. “This ain't going to be an easy one for you boy will it?”
“I might as well put the entire town on list of suspects, including myself.” Buck replied jamming the shovel into the ground next to him. “I'm just surprised that someone took the trouble hauling this pathetic excuse of a man this far out before shooting him, they shoot him on main street they'd probably have gotten a parade.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Y'all know this fella?”
“Yeah, Jeremiah Barlow, town vagabond, drunk, cheat and thief, he's been a cell more often to protect him from a mob than because he committed a crime.” Buck opened the man's bloody jacket with the tips of his fingers and pulled out a wallet.
“Not a robbery?”
“Nope, money's still inside and.” Buck pulled out an ace of diamonds. “He's got ten aces in this, each from a different brand of cards. I finally got my proof this ragged son of a gun cheated me out of twenty bucks!”
I bit my lip for a moment. “Did you say his name was Jeremiah Thomas Barlow?”
Buck nodded slowly. “Yeah, I did,” he stated slightly confused. “Yeah.”
“We should probably bury him, does he have any family we should know about?” Johnny asked from his horse as Buck went through the rest of the man's pockets.
“None that I know of, he said he was an orphan and his wife died years ago.”
The former officer shook his head. “I didn't know, I feel bad for him.”
“No one will miss him, believe me.” Buck stated standing and wiping his hands on his trousers. “You know, we don't have to report we found him.” He stated leaning against the shovel. “We could just say there was nothing and save ourselves a huge amount of bother.”
I nodded. “Sounds like this low life ain't worth the trouble, and he ain't gunna care if whether it's worms or buzzards that eat him.” And with that our little adventure almost ended, no mystery just a dead man in the sand, unfortunately Johnny interrupted.
“Oh for goodness sake! Y'all are the lawmen here, it just ain't the American way to just let a murderer go free!”
Buck scratched his head. “American way? I thought you served with the rebels?”
“Confederate States of America, still American. Now at least give this a little effort, pretend to try and solve it.” Johnny replied rolling his eyes.

And so with Buck being guilted into it, we hauled ourselves and the body wrapped in a tarp back to town, I still wanted to just forget the whole thing but, I would later be glad we didn't.
We dropped the body off at the Sheriff’s office, a dusty and dark old building thats floors creaked and groaned as we dropped the lowlife's body off in front of the Sheriff and Coroner. Buck got stuck with paperwork, and I was about to call it quits when Johnny volunteered the both of us to, ask around a little, and so that is why me and Johnny soon found ourselves in the back room of the sleaziest tavern I'd been to in years, looking at that flour flusher's small stash of personal belongings.
“I knew that Jeremiah was trouble, his tongue so slick, he try to charm my girls, yet when money brought up, he suddenly lose interest in whatever it is.” The Señora who ran the place stated, her accent thick and her voice hinting at a taste of anger. “I say good riddance, If he stay a few more days I think I kill him myself and bury in under garden, then at least he might start to repay me.”
“Would you like to put that on record?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.
“No, no, no,” She replied shaking her head. “Just mean, I not like him.”
Johnny picked up a plate that sitting on a stack of boxes. “You know I almost bought China from this fella, felt bad for him you see, but...” Johnny smashed the plate against one of the boxes causing it to crack in half revealing that it was merely wood covered in a china like substance. “I didn't even know you could counterfeit China.”
“Do you happen to know what he was doing this morning?”
The lady shook her head. “I didn't see him this morning, I thought he just go out for an early start like usual.” She replied. “You could ask Nina, she likes to come in early to try make me think she work harder.”
“Hey Jesse.” Johnny called from where he was looking into the small stove near the bed. “He had himself something here you might find interesting.” I walked over and saw Johnny holding a small burnt piece of paper.
It was mostly burnt, just part of one side could be read, but its mere existence meant that this was more than a simple residence being angry about a slight and murdering the man.

Hello Mr Barlo

We know the Georgia Bans

But your time ain't up y

you up, they'll ge

Black Watch will pro

Do not flee, o

Spider.

“Ain't you looking for Black Watch?” Johnny asked as he carefully set the paper down on the bed.
I nodded to Johnny. “Yes, and if they were involved, this case suddenly became much more important.”



Nina was a lovely young gal, not twenty five even with strong Mexican features, like most of the women in this, tavern, she wore a low cut dress and started flirt'n until I showed her my badge, then she suddenly became quiet as a mouse and forgot how to speak American, getting her to talk was a chore, but after the Señora came and told her the situation she started talking.
“He was, like a buzzard, he always looking,” She told us, he voice holding a fierce venom. “When woman came for him, said she was with a sheriff, I more glad she take him away than care if she actually tell truth.”
Johnny raised an eyebrow. “This person just walked in and took him?”
Nina nodded “She talk to me, then go in, he come out with her, have a bag over head and hands tied.”
“And did you happen to get her name?” I asked.
The gal bit her lip. “I think she say, but I not remember. I was quite tired.”
“Can you describe her?”
“Well,” She paused. “She not so young, she look like her face burn from sun, hard, her eyes were like fire though, passionate and fierce!”
Johnny rolled his eyes. “That's helpful.”
“You want me to describe her or not?” Nina replied in a stilted voice. “She also wear old clothes, long gray jacket, very worn but well patched, she have a hat on, and carry pistol.”
“Anything else you can tell us?” I asked, listening intently to her every word.
She thought a moment, letting out a small humm sound. “Oh, her voice,” she stated with her eyes lighting up, “She sound like you two, but especially you Mr Morrison, well except her voice harsh like always dry.”
“Thank you Ms. Nina,” I told her with a nod.
The girl curtsied. “I hope you gentlemen visit again, though I not wish you luck unless you plan on giving award to person who take Barlow.”



We left the tavern, and as the evening fell my mind was racing, the note, the description, something didn't add up, was it Black-Watch that grabbed him to protect him? Why would they want him? What would he have known? And most importantly, the Georgia Bans referenced in the burn note, or as half the wanted posters in sheriff’s office showed, the Georgia Banshee, a female bandit that fit Nina's description to the letter.
As we walked into the Sheriff's office however, my mind kept running over the fact that the Georgia Banshee wasn't just some common outlaw murderer, but an assassin, at least if number of dead lawmen who were investigating Black-Watch and just so also happened to be at the banks she robbed when they died was any indication.
“You're sure?” Sheriff Hank asked, looking down at the wanted poster we had pulled from the wall.
I nodded. “Our evidence seems to support it, though there's one problem, why would The Black-watch promise to protect him from their own killer?”
Buck, who kept glancing at the clock waiting for quitting time, cleared his throat. “Maybe the letter was sent just to make sure he wouldn't run.”
“I see what you mean.” I replied reading over the burned scrap again. “But why would they want to kill him?”
Buck shrugged. “Does it matter? They sent their killer, who done shot him, whatever it was, it was enough they send a killer who has their face plastered on every station from here to New York.”
The Sheriff nodded. “He's got a point, the question isn't why, we're dealing with a dangerous killer, we should be asking, where? She can't be more than a day's ride from here.”
“So, she's gone?” Buck asked, in an almost hopeful voice.
“No.” the Sheriff replied. “And congratulations on volunteering to run down the telegraph office before they close and telling them to send an alert to every Sheriff this side of the Appalachia that the Georgia Banshee is within a day's ride of Flagstaff.” Buck made a quiet groan. “And,” The Sheriff continued. “Come back when you're done!”
Buck ran off, and that left me, Johnny, and the Sheriff alone. “Too late for a posse I assume?” Johnny asked looking out at the setting sun.
“We'll round one up in the morning, if you don't mind I'd like to borrow some of your horses, and boys if you'll spare 'em” The Sheriff asked as he put down a map.
“Of course.”
“I'd suggest Y'all get home, we got an early morning tomorrow.” The Sheriff continued as the light faded outside.



We made it back to Morrison’s house about the time the moon was rising, and I politely bid my hosts a good night as Johnny informed his wife of the day's events. I kept my boots on as I went into my room, and once there I pulled my lever action rifle from my travel bag and dumped a bag of ammunition into my pockets. As I could hear Scarlet and Johnny talking excitedly through the door, I slipped out through the window and threw my saddle on my horse, then I was off into the night.



The House on the hill had only just come into view when a gunshot cracked through the night, I heard a whizzing sound nearby and jerked the reigns of my horse. The shot had come from the Widow Lacroix's porch, and as I directed my steed to gallop in an errant manner I could see another figure on the porch jumping onto a waiting horse.
CRACK! I dodged another shot and wheeled my horse around to head off the rider. CRACK! another shot, her firing was becoming more rapid and desperate as I galloped at a distance past the house. CRACK! Another shot whizzed by, far too close to comfort and I swerved a bit, pointless to swerve after the bullet flew by, but I had to keep my path unpredictable, up ahead the rider was distant, but that was fine for now, as long as I could see her.
The rider had pushed their horse too much, they had gambled on outrunning me across the desert, and now as my slower, but energy conserving pace had paid off and every hour I got closer. Their gallop turning to a trot, then a walk.
I knew they weren't going to go without a fight, but with no cover in this bleak sand and no sign of a long gun on their moonlit silhouette they were at a disadvantage, and they knew it, which is why I was prepared for them wheeling about and charging me, their horse getting a second wind as it galloped my way. I pulled my horse back from the gradual canter to a walk, leveling my rifle at the rider, who only realized I had slowed so much too late as flash erupted from my gun barrel and a bullet went sailing through the air. The figure yanked their reins harshly, causing their horse to jerk back and stumble, tossing the rider off. Mind you, I wasn't even close to hitting them with my shot, but they didn't know that. Before the figure could get up I had closed the distance, my rifle trained on them and their pistol sitting in the sand twenty feet from their stumble.
“DON'T YOU MOVE!” I shouted, riding close, but not so that they could grab me. “Stand up, slowly!”
The figure raised its hands above its head and slowly stood, and in the moonlight I finally got to see the face the Georgia Tornado.
“Who are ya?” She asked, spitting sand and glaring. “What kind of folk done chase down a poor woman like that?”
I stayed on my horse, looking down at the woman below. “Marshal Jesse Mercer, and you are the Georgia Tornado.”
A slight smile twisted upon her lips. “You got yourself a warrant?”
“Do I look like some rookie deputy?”
The woman sighed. “How did you know where I was?”
I chuckled. “You came from town, you must have crossed the widow's land, not only that but she would have heard the gunshot too from her house, she said she didn't which made me suspicious.”
She shook her head. “Well you got lucky, the gunshot was muffled by Jeremiah's head, and I'm quiet as a rabbit when I want to be, but you lucked out that she actually helping a bit.”
“Well, it was only a hunch but I also figured if you had help, you wouldn't try and travel in the day, you'd cross the desert at night. So if you weren't at the widow's place I'd watch the desert to see if I saw any midnight horses.” I explained. “I have one question though, why'd you kill Jeremiah?” I asked, letting my voice go low.
“Oh don't tell me someone actually cared about him!” She said in a mocking voice. “Oh, were you and him queer? That would explain so much.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Don't take my questioning for concern. I haven't seen him alive since the War.”
“You fought with him?” The Tornado was suddenly very interested. “What a small world ain't it.”
“Too small, that rotten son of a gun turned traitor, turned enemy guns right on our ambush back during Sherman's bloody march, I made sure to capture you myself so I could make sure I had chance to personally thank you for emptying his skull.”
The woman laughed. “Really? Oh do tell!”
“We were good distance outside Atlanta, trying to put a delay on Butcher Sherman, Jeremiah Thomas Barlow was on a cannon crew near mine, one day as we're preparing an ambush he doesn't show, we assume something happened, until cannon fire starts hit'n our position, turns out he sold us out, he wasn't even captured before he talked.”
“Well, then I think we both agree that my Husband is better dead than alive.”
“Husband?” I asked, surprised.
The woman's face flickered confusion as she realized her slip up. “Well no sense in hiding it now, yes, that rotten low life, son of dog was my husband, the man who walked out on me promising to come back to our child, and instead he was turning traitor and gallivanting about the entire West, and I ain't gunna regret shoot'n him.”
“If he were the only one, I'd let you go.” I stated, my rifle still trained on her forehead. “Unfortunately, there's the matter of you working for Black-Watch and kill'n a few other people that I am obligated to see through.”
“ah.” Her voice was suddenly far less chipper than it had been. “Well, are you sure I didn't just earn myself one day's head start?”
I shook my head. “Not with that, but suppose when I take you in, you told me about your boss, maybe we could come to some form of, arrangement.”
“Mr Mercer, do you happen to know how many men I've killed?”
“No.”
“Well that makes two of us, and you and I both know with that many boots buried, the only thing you can offer is that I get a noose privately, instead of publicly in the square.” She replied, spitting.
I waved my gun slightly. “Well no matter, you're coming back with me.”
“All you men folk, y'all always trying to order me around.”
“I've got a gun, I think you can listen to one more man giving you orders.”
“I'd rather die a free woman.” She stated calmly, before leaping towards her fallen pistol.
CRACK!
An impulsive action, born out of years of experience yanked the trigger and my gun fired as she moved, striking her in the chest and causing her to fall back against the sand, blood pouring from the open wound, her hand just a foot away from the pistol she had so desperately been trying to reach.
I'd heard too many women die from bullets, a lot of blood, screaming, crying, pain, but she didn't cry out in pain at all, it was almost worse that she just lay there silently, breathing heavy as I dismounted and walked over, kick'n the pistol away.but she sat there, almost looking like what could almost be described as peace.
“Senator Walter,” her voice was labored and soft, “I killed him,” she coughed, and a trickle of blood ran down her cracked lips. “Personal account, pull that string and you'll find.....” She trailed off, her eyes clouding and the heaving of her chest stopping.



I buried her where she fell, covering the body with desert rocks to prevent the buzzards from get'n her. Like a good assassin there wasn't nothing to take that would identify her or incriminate anyone, but her journal was, interesting. Once I was done I began the long ride back to town, it was after dawn by the time I arrived back at the Mercer plantation. Ms Mercer greeted me from the kitchen, where she was try'n to feed one of the workers' kids in a high chair.
“Jesse where have you been? Johnny was worried when he didn't find you!” She exclaimed, “We thought you'd gone into town already to take part in the search!”
I yawned and collapsed into an armchair as she bustled about the kitchen. “Just doing some looking myself.”
“Well you look famished, I've got some grits on the stove, apple turnovers from last night I....”
I shook my head. “I appreciate it ma'am, but I just need one thing.”
“What's that?”

I pulled my hat over my eyes. “One dang day where I can stop being a lawman.”