A LURKER AMONG THE DEAD Gunsmoke & Ghouls Press Cover ... · your deputy this morning and told him what happened." "Maybe this stranger was worried that coyotes was going to dig up

A LURKER AMONG THE DEAD

THE CALLAHAN FILES #1

KEVIN HURTACK

Gunsmoke & Ghouls Press

©2015 All rights reserved

Cover Design by Kevin Hurtack.

This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents and dialogue are created by the writer's

imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons,

living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Hurtack / A Lurker Among The Dead / 2

Sean Callahan shoveled a forkful of huevos rancheros into his mouth just as his office

door swung open. He groaned like a grizzly bear awoken too soon from its winter slumber and

shot a glance across the room. Joseph Washington, a lean black man with a boyish appearance,

despite his patchy beard, stood in the doorway. Before he could shut the door a stiff breeze blew

into the Spartan log cabin, blowing dust in from Main Street along with the stench of fresh horse

manure. The rumble of buckboard wagons and the murmur of conversations could be heard from

the neighboring streets.

"This better be important," Sean said between mouthfuls of fried egg and toasted corn

tortillas, "for you to be disturbing my breakfast, Deputy."

"Sorry, Sheriff," Joseph said, removing his weathered Bowler hat and shutting the door.

"But this can’t wait."

"I'll determine what can and can't."

"If you say so."

Sean raked his calloused fingers through his thinning black hair. "Go on then, I thought

you said this couldn't wait..."

Joseph sat down in the wooden chair on the other side of Sean's cluttered desk. "Well, I

was out on patrol this morning and when I rode by the cemetery ole Rufus was madder than a


scalded cat. I asked him what the matter was, and he says somebody snatched two corpses out of

their graves last night."

Sean scratched his salt-and-pepper beard. "Did you bother to check them yourself?"

"I wanted to get a look-see, but that fool wouldn't show me nothing!" Joseph said,

pounding his fist on the desk. "Told me it weren't no job for a boy like me."

"Mind your temper, Deputy."

Joseph grunted.

Sean leaned back in his chair, which groaned beneath his brawny build. "Anyone else

know about this?"

"I doubt it, nobody goes out there less they got dead folk and Rufus only heads into town

a few times a year."

"Good, the last thing we need is Mayor Little or that busy body Ms. Tilly over at the

Silvervalle Gazette getting in our way."

"I thought you was sweet on her, especially after she wrote about you whooping them

Confederate bushwhackers up in the mountains a few years back." Joseph batted his eyelashes

and pressed his hands to his heart. "Hero of the Colorado territory is what she called you, ain't

it?"

Sean's pale blue eyes narrowed. "Come on, we got work to do."

Joseph smirked and buttoned up his threadbare frock coat. "I'll get the horses."

Sean brushed the crumbs from his grey bib shirt before grabbing his fringed buckskin

coat and grey slouch hat from the wall hooks behind his desk. "Be quick about it, I prefer to talk

to him before he has his first bottle of whiskey."


***

Rufus' dilapidated log cabin sat in the middle of the rock-strewn field that served as the

town of Silvervalle's cemetery. Among the pear cactus and yucca that grew outside his home

were an assortment of dirt-covered shovels and pick axes.

The door rattled on its rusty hinges when Sean knocked on it. "Rufus? This is Sheriff

Callahan, I'd like to have a word with you."

A scuffling of feet and the clinking of empty bottles came from the other side.

Sean gritted his teeth. "I don't have all day..."

The door swung open and a scrawny middle aged man leaned against it. He wore a pair

of long johns that had once but white, but the accumulation of sweat and dust had turned them a

dingy brown. He scratched at his head of greasy black hair like a flea-bitten hound while fixing

Sean with a glassy stare. "Morning, Sheriff. Suppose you here about last night?"

"That's right, my deputy told me you saw someone out there?"

Rufus rubbed his leathery face. "Yup, I was woke up by a commotion, and when I

stepped outside I seen a man out there with a lantern and shovel doing some digging."

"Did you know him?" Sean said.

"Nah, didn't recognize him. Was a tall fella in a long coat, maybe bearskin? Had a big old

beard, too."

"Was you drunk last night?" Joseph said.

Rufus hacked up a mouthful of phlegm and spit on the ground. "Of course I was! What

else there to do?"

Sean nodded. "So what did you do after you saw this man?"


"I went back inside to get my rifle, but when I came out the fella was gone. I headed

down there and found the empty graves. Didn't see nothing more, so I went on back to bed. Saw

your deputy this morning and told him what happened."

"Maybe this stranger was worried that coyotes was going to dig up their kin," Joseph

said, rubbing the back of his neck. "Some folks say you don’t dig deep enough for a proper

grave."

Rufus scowled. "Now look here, boy, I ain't no slack-jawed fool that don't know how to

dig. I bury them real deep! It ain't easy, I tell ya, what with this here rocky ground. If I was back

in Georgia I'd have me some boys like you doing the digging for me."

Joseph glared at him.

The urge to smack some sense into Rufus flooded Sean's mind, but it wouldn't do any

good. The grave digger was born a redneck and remained one despite being so far from his

beloved Dixie. Besides, if Sean tried to knock some sense into him, Rufus would scurry like a

beaten dog to Mayor Little. The last thing Sean wanted to deal with was a brow beating from that

blowhard of a politician. "Watch your tongue, Rufus. He's my deputy and I won't have you

disrespecting him."

Rufus shot a heated glance at Joseph. "The same goes for your boy, too. Ain't gonna

listen to no uppity-".

Sean grabbed a handful of Rufus' long johns and pulled him close. "Where are the

graves?"

"On … on the far end … near the tree line," Rufus said, pointing with a trembling hand to

the west. "They sit by some juniper."

Sean let him go. "Who was buried there?"


"I ain't got the foggiest notion. As long as I get my money is all that matters. I leave all

that book keeping to Doc."

"If you remember anything else or see this stranger again, let me know," Sean said.

"If he comes round again, I'll show you where I buried him," Rufus said, shutting the

door.

***

"You think he did it during some drunken spell?" Joseph said as they headed into the

cemetery. "Maybe he wanted jewelry off the dead?"

"No," Sean said, walking past several rows of sun-bleached grave markers. "He would

have done that before burying them. Besides, once he gets a bellyful of whiskey he can barely

walk, let alone dig."

Joseph nodded.

"And if he was guilty why would he bring us out here?" Sean said.

"Okay, you got a point, but if it ain't him then who done this?" Joseph said. "And why?"

"I aim to find out, that's why they made me sheriff," Sean said.

Joseph gave him a sideways glance. "You sure? I figured the only reason they picked you

was because the last one got himself killed."

Sean smirked. "So did the last deputy."

***

The empty graves sat beside one another in the far corner of the cemetery near the edge

of the woods. Other than a pair of junipers that grew a few yards behind the burial site, the

corner was desolate. The next closest plot was over a dozen yards away. A brooding sense of

isolation and despair saturated the air and seeped in to Sean's mind. Were these people placed out


here to be forgotten? Didn't anyone care about them? Scraggly weeds grew up around the pair of

warped wooden crosses that marked each grave, but someone had set a small bouquet of fresh

lupine and columbine flowers at each one.

One cross had the name 'Ruby Kane' carved into it and 'Jack Kane' was scratched into the

other. Piles of dirt were stacked beside each grave along with bits of the pine coffins.

Sean knelt down between the graves. "I remember investigating a rash of crimes similar

to this one."

"When you was a special agent for the Union?" Joseph said, kneeling down beside a pile

of dirt.

Sean shook his head. "No, before Mr. Lincoln's War, when I was a detective back East in

Buffalo."

"What happen?"

"Turned out that the body snatcher was selling the corpses to a doctor."

Joseph's bushy eyebrows shot up. "What he want with them?"

Sean grimaced. "Some universities use them for dissection in their anatomy classes.

Corpses are hard to come by legally, so most resort to body snatchers."

"Dissection, what's that?"

"Trust me, you don't want to know."

"All this grave robbing ain't right." Joseph fiddled with the wood cross he wore around

his neck. "The dead should be resting until Judgement Day."

"Whoever did this is probably more concerned with pay day." Sean peered over his

shoulder at the dense growth of ponderosa pine and groves of golden aspen. "These graves are


the furthest ones from Rufus' cabin and the woods provide good cover for someone to hide out

until dark. They could've used the woods as an escape route, too."

"You think Doc Schwartz is like the one in Buffalo?"

"Not likely since he doesn't teach anatomy, but we should go see if anyone has offered to

sell him corpses, just in case."

Joseph peered at the pile of dirt beside him. "There's boot prints here. Awful big ones and

some little ones. That big fella Rufus told us about must've had a helper."

Sean brushed his hands off on his canvas pants. "Makes sense-"

The snapping of twigs cut off his words.

Both men drew their revolvers and turned toward the noise. A figure scurried behind the

junipers a few yards behind the graves.

Sean cocked his single-action Remington. "You have two choices, come out of there with

your hands up or come out as a corpse."

A scrawny boy stepped out with his hands raised over his head. A layer of dirt covered

his tattered clothes and his dark hair was a matted mess.

Sean lowered his gun. "You know how lucky you are? What're you doing out here?"

The boy chewed on his lower lip and stared at the graves. "My … my... ma... and

brother."

Sean's heart sank. "I'm sorry son, you shouldn't be out here-"

"You're gonna catch 'em, ain't you Sheriff?"

"I aim to-"

"I can help you Sheriff! Just wish I'd stopped him before."

"Who did this, son?" Sean asked.


The boy lowered his hands. "A hairy old man with a big white beard and taller than

anybody I done seen. Wore a big old bearskin coat."

"You have an eye for detail," Sean said.

The boy grinned.

Joseph peered at the boy. "What was you doing out here last night? Ain't you got no other

kin?"

"Nope," the boy said, hanging his head. "My brother Jack was working up at the

Bluebird mine. Ma worked as a cook and I did odd jobs around camp. But after Jack done died in

a cave-in and Ma passed away from cholera a few months later, I been on my own for nearly a

year. I came down here a few weeks ago and been working odd jobs. Been camping down by

the creek. I was just about to hit the hay last night when I spied a lantern shining up here. When

I got over here I seen him!"

"Do you remember anything else about this man?" Sean said.

"Well, he didn't speak English, at least he didn't when he was hollering and chasing me

with his big ole Bowie knife."

"Spanish?" Joseph said.

"Nah, I know some but he wasn't talking it."

"What did you do when he came after you?" Sean said.

"He almost cut my head clean off, but I was too quick for him," the boy said. "I run into

the woods and hid real good. He gave up searching for me after a spell and took off."

"Which way did he go?" Sean said.

"That a way," the boy said, pointing to the snow white peaks of the El Dorado range

looming in the west.


"By himself?"

"Yep, he had himself a brown horse with white patches on its rump and an old mule he

hauled the bodies with."

"Ever seen him before?" Joseph said.

The boy shook his head.

Sean tossed a silver dollar to him. "What's your name, son?"

"Lucas Kane." He caught it with one hand and grinned. "Thanks, Sheriff!"

"Take that money and get yourself a room and a hot bath at the Regal Hotel," Sean said.

"Winter's fast approaching, you'll catch your death if you camp out here much longer."

"I'm okay. Jack taught me all there is to know about living off the land, and how to

protect myself," Lucas said, drawing a Starr revolver from his back pocket.

"That's a mighty fine gun," Joseph said. "You sure you can handle it?"

Lucas held his head high. "I can plug a rabbit at twenty yards."

Joseph chuckled. "Twenty? I bet you never fired-"

Sean stepped between them. "You want this man to face justice, right?"

Lucas locked eyes with him. "Just shoot 'em dead, Sheriff!"

"I'm not the executioner."

Lucas scowled.

"You may not like it, but I believe in upholding the law and that means following the

rules," Sean said, putting a firm hand on the boy's shoulder. "Otherwise we'd have folks shooting

each other over every disagreement and chaos in the streets. I will not allow that to happen while

I'm sheriff, understand?"

Lucas stared at the ground. "Yes... sir."


"We'll catch this body snatcher and bring him to justice. In the meantime I want you in

town where I can find you because we'll need your testimony in a court of law," Sean said,

taking his hand off the boy's shoulder. "Otherwise, he could get off and you don't want that, do

you?"

"No, no I don't!"

Sean nodded. "Good, then if we have any more questions for you we'll find you at the

Regal hotel, right?"

"Yes... sir." Lucas said.

***

As they rode back to Silvervalle, Joseph gave Sean a sideways glance. "You really

believed that kid?"

"His description is similar to what Rufus told us, a tall man with a beard and maybe a

bearskin coat," Sean said. "And he gave us an idea where this body snatcher ran off to."

"The boy could be working with him, maybe putting us on the wrong path."

"Possibly, but did you see that heartache in his eye? You can lie about facts," Sean shook

his head, "but you can't fake that."

Joseph raised a bushy eyebrow. "You getting soft on me?"

"No, but I know what it's like to be alone. I had nobody to look after me when I was his

age," Sean said. "Now come on, let's go talk to Dr. Schwartz before he gets up to his elbows in

patients."


***

Main Street consisted of a dusty lane with clapboard shops with facades and a boardwalk

on both sides. Braying burros led by grimy miners meandered to the Wormwood Saloon while

homesteaders unloaded their fall harvests outside of Mr. Anderson's general store.

Dr. Schwartz ran his medical practice out of an adobe house that sat at the far end of the

street. Despite his annual ritual of white washing it, the perpetual dust and mud kept it a drab

gray for most of the year.

"Why don't you go talk to Mabel while I have a word with Dr. Schwartz," Sean said,

hitching his horse to the post outside the adobe house.

Joseph pulled his coat collar up as a frigid wind swept down the street. "Why? Only

thing that old maid be guilty of is talking too much."

"That's the thing, between her and Ms. Tilly, Mabel is one of the biggest gossips in town.

Any time someone new comes to town they know all about them before the sun sets."

"Why you so sure a newcomer done it?"

"It doesn't make any sense that anyone that's lived here for years would do this to their

neighbor's kin. A stranger, he wouldn't have those same feelings," Sean said.

"I reckon you right," Joseph said, heading toward the backyard. "I'll go catch her before

she get too busy helping Doc."

***

Sean leaned back in the overstuffed leather chair and glanced around the office. The

adobe walls were covered with various degrees Dr. Schwartz had earned over the years, mostly

in Boston and Philadelphia. Alongside them were photographs of stodgy men in Paris and

London as well as the jungles of Africa. It was easy recognize Dr. Schwartz in each of them. The


elderly doctor towered over the other people and had a perpetually dour expression on his long

face, as if he had just swallowed a mouthful of spoiled milk.

"Ordinarily, I would wonder why it is so imperative for you to infringe upon my

practice," Dr. Schwartz said, marching into the office. "But it just so happens that I wish to speak

with you as well."

Sean leaned forward in his chair. "About the body snatcher?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"Someone stole two corpses last night."

Dr. Schwartz grimaced and shook his head. "Then I suspect that my concern may be

related."

"What is it?" Sean said.

"I was working rather late last night when I heard a commotion in the backyard," Dr.

Schwartz said, unbuttoning his black sack suit coat before taking a seat at his ornate desk. "At

first I dismissed it as Mabel coming home, but when it persisted I looked out the window and

spotted a behemoth of a man attempting to break into the morgue. I sent my dogs after him, but

he managed to escape. I assumed it was a miner that had spent his share on too much whiskey

and did not deem it worthy of rousing you or your deputy last night."

"Did you get a good look at him?" Sean said. He knew it had to be the same man. What

were the odds that two giants with ghoulish natures were in town?

"My lantern shone a bit of light on him when I stepped outside with my dogs. He

appeared to be wearing a long fur coat and he had a long beard. I could not see much else."

"That sounds like stranger seen at the cemetery."


Dr. Schwartz raked his thin fingers through his bushy white hair. "I daresay that is rather

peculiar. I was aware of grave robbing being common place back East, but I never imagined it

would occur here in Silvervalle."

Sean got up and looked out the window. The backyard was a rocky patch of dirt fenced in

on all sides. In the middle was a squat stone building with a chimney that served as the morgue.

A dozen yards behind it sat Mabel's log cabin and an outhouse. Joseph stood in front of the

cabin and alternated between knocking on the door and peering through the front window. "What

do you know about Ruby and Jack Kane?"

"I assume it was their graves the body snatcher violated?"

Sean nodded while keeping his eyes on Joseph who had turned his attention to the

morgue.

"Mrs. Kane succumbed from cholera about a year ago," Dr. Schwartz said, rubbing his

pointed chin. "Her eldest son, Jack perished in a cave-in a few months before her."

"Do they have any other kin?" Sean said.

"Mrs. Kane was a widow and she never spoke of her past. The only family remaining

that I know of would be her youngest son, Lucas. But he is just a boy, he could not be the

responsible party."

"Have you talked to Mabel about last night?" Sean said.

"I went to inquire with her last night, but no one was home. I assumed she was still at

Ms. Tilly's home for their weekly sewing circle. I was planning on speaking to her this morning,

but I have not seen her yet."

"That's odd, isn't it? She normally opens the office up and starts bringing in patients

before you get here, right?"


"You are correct, but she is prone to staying up to ungodly hours whenever she goes to

Ms.Tilly's home," Dr. Schwartz said with a shrug. "I assumed she had merely overslept which

isn't out of the ordinary on such an occasion."

Sean watched Joseph pick something out of the dirt in front of the morgue's door. "Unless

you have anything else, I'm going to join my deputy out back. If you see Mabel let her know I

want to have a word with her."

"Very well," Dr. Schwartz said, turning his attention to a neatly stacked pile of papers on

his desk. "I wish you luck in catching this man and resolving this ungodly crime."

***

"Sheriff!" Joseph said, kneeling in front of the morgue.

Sean walked over to him. "What is it?"

"This door looks like it's been beaten like a mule."

"Dr. Schwartz told me he saw someone trying to break in last night, and his description

was similar to what we've heard before."

Joseph grimaced. "This a sick man we dealing with, Sheriff."

"That's the truth and the sooner we find him, the better for everyone in Silvervalle," Sean

said. "Did you find anything else?"

"Just this here," Joseph said, handing him a scrap of paper. "Found it in the dirt by the

door. Looks like a bill of sales from Anderson's and it's got yesterday's date."

Sean glanced at the paper. "For a calico dress and a sack suit? The wind-"

A blood curdling scream cut him off.

Dr. Schwartz stood in front of the outhouse next to Mabel's cabin.

Sean rushed over to him. "What's wrong?"


All the color had drained from the doctor's face and his hand trembled when he pointed at

the outhouse. "In ... Inside."

Joseph led the doctor over to a stump several yards away. "Just sit on down, we'll handle

this."

Dr. Schwartz buried his face in his hands.

Sean opened the door and staggered back as a rancid stench rushed out. The corpse of an

elderly black woman in a bloodied and torn calico dress lay on the floor of the outhouse. Her

killer had cut out her eyes out leaving her with bloodied sockets that seemed to stare at the

bizarre scrawling on the walls. They were drawn in blood and consisted of peculiar angular

forms and wavering spirals. It appeared whoever drew them had done so in a frantic manner.

What would possess the killer to cover nearly every inch of the walls with them?

He knelt down beside the corpse. She had almost been decapitated by a viscous gash

across her throat and her chest seemed concaved. Sean pulled the torn remnants of her dress

aside. He sucked air through his clenched teeth at the sight. The killer had gutted her like a

freshly killed deer, taking the heart, liver, and spleen but leaving all the rest in a gory heap

between her legs.

Bile flooded the back of his throat, but he swallowed hard and covered her back up with

her bloodied dress. Why would the killer butcher her like an animal? There wasn't any sane

motive to it or the markings on the wall. "I'm sorry, Mabel, you didn't deserve to die like this. I

swear we'll catch this bastard for you."

Joseph gaped at the corpse and fiddled with the wooden cross he wore around his neck.

"Sweet Lord! Lucas say that body snatcher almost cut his head off, too."


Sean grabbed the corpse's left arm. "That's right. Unfortunately for Mabel, this wasn't a

very good hiding spot.

"What you doing?" Joseph said, his brow furrowing.

Sean ignored him and pried the corpse's fingers back to reveal a buckskin pouch with

intricate beadwork and a broken leather strap. Inside it was an ornate brass case that held a small

black and white photograph of an unusually tall man with as bushy white beard that nearly

reached his belt buckle and he wore an old bear skin coat. He stood beside an elderly woman in a

patched calico dress who wore her white hair in a bun and had her thin hands folded neatly in her

lap. A young man stood beside them. Despite his face full of pimples, he bore a striking

resemblance to the older man.

"What that?"

Sean tossed the photograph to Joseph. "Matches the description of our suspect. Mabel

must’ve torn it off her killer."

Joseph studied it for a moment. "We need somebody that knows his face."

Sean nodded.

"Why you think he kill Mabel in the shit house?"

"My guess is the body snatcher saw her come home last night, and didn't want to risk

being spotted. As to why he mutilated her, I don't know. It goes way beyond a normal killing."

"I ain't never seen nothin' like this before. It ain't natural, I tell you, this killer more devil

then man."

Sean examined the corpse's hand. "I don't know much about the devil, but I do how to

track down criminals."

Joseph grimaced. "What you find now?"


"Bits of skin under her fingernails. Looks like Mabel hit him at least once before she

died."

"Didn't do her no good."

Sean glanced up at him. "No, but it may be good for us. Whoever killed her is going to

have fresh scratches. If we find some on our suspect it’'ll add to the evidence against him."

Joseph tossed the photograph back to him. "And what about this writing? I ain't never

seen nothing like it."

Sean glanced at the wall. "It doesn't matter. He's stolen two corpses and now he's a

murderer. He's a threat to everyone in Silvervalle and all of Raven County. This is my town and

my county, I'm not going to stop hunting him until he's swinging from a noose."

Joseph nodded.

"Go on and take Schwartz inside," Sean said.

"Okay," Joseph said. "I'll fetch Rufus and Father Montes, too. Mabel deserves a proper

Christian burial."

Sean nodded. "In the mean time I'll go talk to Mr. Anderson about that receipt and the

man in the photograph."

***

"Sure I recognize him," Mr. Anderson said, looking up from the photograph, "That’s

Pierre DuBois and his family. I can give it back the next time he's down here."

Sean locked eyes with him. "What do you know about Pierre?"


"I've known him for almost thirty years. We started doing business back when the beaver

trade was booming back in the 1840’s. He's one of them French Canadians. A real mountain

man, and still one fine trapper and hunter."

"When's the last time you saw him?"

"Yesterday, actually. I had just closed up shop and was heading upstairs for dinner when

I heard someone banging on the front door," Mr. Anderson said. "I would've told anyone else to

come back in the morning, but I felt sorry for Pierre because I knew this would be his final trip

until next spring."

"What do you mean he won't be back until then?" Sean said.

"Well, he lives way up there in the mountains and only comes down a few times a year."

"What kind of business did you do with Pierre?" Sean said.

"He traded some furs for a calico dress and a sack suit," Mr. Anderson said with a shrug.

"Said they were gifts for his family."

Sean planted his palms on the counter and leaned forward. "Where's he live, exactly?"

"I've had no reason to go up there, but First Street turns into a trail once you leave town.

He lives in a meadow near a creek. He’s told me he’s got a nice log cabin with a barn for him

and his family. They work the land while he hunts and traps. No one goes up there but Pierre

since all the miners struck the mother lode further north. Besides folks say that area gets too

many avalanches once the snow falls. In fact I was surprised he came down considering the

mountains have been getting hit hard with snow the past couple weeks now."

"Much obliged for your help," Sean said, heading for the door.

"Uh ... Sheriff Callahan?" Mr. Anderson said, fidgeting with his starched collar.

"What?"


"Pierre's a friend of mine so I’m a bit concerned about all this. He isn't in any sort of

trouble, is he?"

Sean headed out the door. "I'd reconsider that friendship if I were you."

***

The El Dorado range rose from the ponderosa forest like the jaws of an antediluvian

beast. The snow-covered summits slashed the clouds and a bone-chilling wind swept down from

their lofty heights. It was an intimidating display by Mother Nature, but it wasn't about to stop

Sean from finding Pierre. Justice had to be served.

"You sure we got to go up there today?" Joseph said from behind him, his voice muffled

by the wool scarf wrapped around his neck and face.

Sean glanced over his shoulder at his shivering deputy. "We've spent enough time in

town. If we wait any longer he could be long gone."

"We should get a posse."

"No, that many men and horses would make too much noise," Sean said, nudging his

Buckskin gelding with his knees and riding down the trail into the snow-filled forest.

***

"See how the mule's tracks are deeper then the horse's? It was carrying a load, probably

the corpses," Sean said, studying the tracks in the snow. "Lucas was right about Pierre having a

horse and mule."

"Or it could be somebody else," Joseph said. "Miners always got at least one pack mule

with them."

"True, but Mr. Anderson said that they don't bother with this area anymore."


"How he know that? He don't leave his store except to go to church on Sunday when his

wife's home and to the brothel when she ain't."

"That may be so, but unless you know something else, this is our best lead," Sean said.

Joseph pointed at some footprints that followed alongside the animals' tracks. "And what

about them? They look too small to be our body snatcher's."

"Maybe Pierre's boy waited down here for him and led the mule back up," Sean said.

"If his boy came down from the mountains to meet him then why don't I see no footprints

coming downhill?" Joseph asked. "I only see them headed up."

"That's a good question," Sean said, "but we won't get any answers sitting around here."

"Lead on then," Joseph said, flicking his horse’s reins.

***

The trek up the mountain proved to be an arduous journey. Although fall reigned in

Silvervalle, the mountains were firmly in the frigid grasp of winter. By the time they reached

the broad meadow icicles hung from their horses’ muzzles and the animals' breath billowed like

steam from a locomotive.

"What you doing?" Joseph said when Sean pulled on his reins.

"Don't you smell that wood smoke?" Sean said, pulling a brass field glass out of his coat

pocket.

"This air so thin and cold iit all I can do to breathe."

Sean peered through the field glass. An iced-over creek wound its way through the

snowy meadow which was marred by the horse and mule tracks. A handful of snow-covered

boulders, the size of houses, stood like sentries in the meadow. At first he dismissed the log

cabin on the far side of the meadow as one of the boulders, but the trickle of smoke from its


chimney betrayed its true nature. The pitched roof of a barn peeked over the cabin and the

braying of a mule cut through the frigid air.

Sean lowered the field glass and handed it to Joseph. "That has to be Pierre's homestead,

it matches what Mr. Anderson told me and those tracks we’ve been following head straight for

it."

Joseph peered through the field glass. "How we do this?"

"Make your way up to one of those boulders," Sean said, "and use it for protection while

you cover me as I ride up to Pierre's door."

Joseph handed the field glass back to him. "What if he gets the drop on you?"

Sean's pale blue eyes narrowed. "I'm counting on you to have better aim than him."

***

Sean rode through the knee-deep snow to the cabin door while staying alert for any signs

of an ambush. The two windows were shuttered to keep out the frigid air, but each one had a

narrow slit cut into them. The only purpose the slits served was to allow a man to shoot through

them. Was Pierre peering through one and lining him up dead to rights? If Sean rode into an

ambush there wouldn't be much cover other than a Douglas blue fir that stood a few yards in

front of the cabin.

As he drew closer to the cabin he unbuttoned his fringed buckskin coat to allow easier

access to his twin Remingtons holstered high on his hips. There wasn't any reason to go into the

cabin with guns drawn, but only a fool would be caught fumbling for his iron while another man

plugged him full of lead. He took one more look around before getting off his horse and walking

up to Pierre's cabin.


Sean stood to the side of the door and knocked. "This is Sheriff Callahan, I want to

have a word with you, Pierre DuBois."

A ferocious barking erupted from inside the cabin. Sean's heart hammered and the

prickling sensation of fear crept down his spine as the door swung open. He sprinted for cover

behind the Douglas blue fir as a monstrous dog barreled outside.

The coal black dog stood outside the door with slobber dripping from its yellow teeth,

and a burly man towered behind it. Liver spots and grotesque moles littered the man's pallid face.

Adding to his ghastly appearance were the dark circles under his bloodshot eyes, which darted

about in a frenzied manner. His most telling features were his scraggly white beard that reached

his belt buckle and the fresh scratches on his forehead. Clutched in his bloodstained hands was a

double-barreled shotgun. When he stepped past the dog, the wind swept his ragged bear skin

coat aside and revealed the bloodied grip of a Bowie knife sheathed on his hip.

Sean ducked behind the tree. "This is Sheriff Callahan, call off your dog and drop your

weapons, Pierre. We’ve got you-"

A shotgun blast cut off his words. It hit the side of the tree sending bits of bark into the

air.

Joseph returned fire from behind a boulder a half dozen yards behind Sean. His shots

struck the door frame, missing Pierre by mere inches.

The dog barreled toward Sean like a runaway rail car.

The roar of the gunfire faded away as Sean's mind focused on the dog. His breathing and

heart slowed to a steady rhythm. Everything seemed to move in slow motion as he drew one of

his revolvers and leaned out from behind the tree. He steadied his aim as the dog leapt at him.

The bullet grazed its shoulder, but its momentum carried it forward into Sean.


The collision drove Sean into the snow with dog atop him and his gun was knocked out

of his hand. Splotches floated in his vision and his head spun. Each breath sent barbs of blinding

pain through his chest. A bone numbing chill swept through him as the snow soaked his clothes.

The dog's snarl snapped Sean back to reality. It lunged for his throat. He flung his left

arm over his neck. Its teeth tore through his coat sleeve like a saw blade. The dog shook its head

side to side. Sean screamed as its teeth sunk into his flesh like bayonets.

A surge of adrenaline flooded Sean's mind. It numbed his body and sharpened his mind

to a razor's edge. He reached out with his free hand and gouged the dog's eyes.

It squealed and released his arm.

Sean drew his other Remington and squeezed the trigger. The dog's blood splattered the

snow as it fell.

Someone plowed through the snow behind him. Sean cocked his gun and turned around,

but a surge of relief washed over him when he saw Joseph running up to him.

Sean lowered his gun. "Is Pierre dead?"

"No, he went around the corner," Joseph said. "I think he's going for his horse."

"You go around that end and I'll take the other side," Sean said, pulling his other gun out

of the snow. "We'll try to cut him off."

"What about his wife and kid?"

"What about them? If they have a gun, shoot them," Sean said. "If they're unarmed and

get in your way, put a rifle butt in their face. Pierre's not getting away."

Joseph nodded before heading around the far end of the cabin.

Sean crept around the other side of the cabin while cradling his wounded arm against his

chest. The surge of adrenaline had faded and his arm throbbed with every heartbeat, but at least


the bleeding had slowed. The only good thing was that it wasn't his shooting arm. But now

wasn't the time to for wallow in misery. He had a duty to protect the people of Silvervalle from

Pierre, and a bit of blood and pain wasn't going to stop him.

The roar of gunfire filled the air as Sean inched toward the corner of the cabin, followed

by the guttural groans of two men. In between the cabin and barn, Pierre and Joseph exchanged

blows like two punch drunk boxers. Their guns lay at their feet in the snow, apparently empty.

Pierre had a longer reach than Joseph which he used to his advantage by keeping out of Joseph's

range while throwing several jabs that caught him squarely in the jaw.

Sean cocked his gun, but with Joseph standing in front of Pierre it was too risky to take a

shot.

Joseph rushed Pierre and tried to take his legs out from under him, but Pierre side stepped

out of the way. Joseph fell face first into the snow. Before he could recover, Pierre grabbed him

and wrapped him up in a bear hug from behind. Joseph's scream cut through the air as Pierre

tightened his hold on him.

Sean rushed toward them. He had to do something before Pierre broke Joseph's back. It

was still too much of a risk of hitting Joseph to fire a shot. Sean howled while raising his

revolver over his head like a hammer.

Pierre took his eyes off Joseph and glared at Sean. Joseph took advantage of the

distraction and slammed the back of his head into Pierre's face. He stumbled backward as blood

gushed out of his nose and his eyes glazed over. Joseph hammered Pierre in the face again.

Pierre stumbled backwards while losing his hold on Joseph.

Joseph collapsed to the ground, gasping for air. Sean sprinted passed him and cocked his

gun as Pierre got to his knees and drew his Bowie knife. He flung the blade at Sean just as the


shot went off. The knife wobbled over Sean's head like a wounded duck and landed by the

cabin’s back door. The bullet hit Pierre in his left shoulder, splattering his blood onto the

pristine snow. Pierre howled and clutched his wound.

Sean kept his gun aimed at Pierre while he crept toward him. "There's no use in fighting

anymore."

Joseph staggered over to them. "Just don't know when to quit, do you old man?"

Pierre sneered.

Sean kicked Pierre in the gut, dropping the big man to the ground. "Search him, and put

your shackles on him. If he tries anything I'll plug him in the head."

Pierre hissed through his clenched teeth while Joseph pulled his arms behind his back and

shackled him. "Ce qui?"

"Speak English," Sean said.

"Porquoi... why you do this? Why you come here and attack me? I do nothing, I am

honest man!"

"An honest man that tried to break my deputy in half," Sean said through his clenched

teeth, "and cut my head off just like you did to Mabel?"

"Non … I do not understand. What is it you think I do? I do not know this … this

Mabel."

"We have witnesses that saw you digging up some graves in Silvervalle and taking the

corpses. We also know you killed Mabel in the outhouse behind Dr. Schwartz's office."

"Non! Non! Je suis... I am no robber of graves!" Pierre said. "I no kill. I stay here with

my family-"

"Are they in the house?" Sean said.


"Oui ... Yes, they are inside ... they mean you no harm. We were just about to have

dinner-"

A clattering came from the house.

Pierre's eyes bulged.

Joseph shot a sideways glance at the house. "We got more trouble, Sheriff."

Pierre howled. "Oui! They mean you... no harm … Si'l vous plaît... Sheriff!"

"Then tell them to come on out."

Pierre's face twisted with pain. "Sheriff... they are... no trouble."

Joseph stood on the other side of the prisoner. "I don't like this one bit."

"Neither do I," Sean said. "But we need to secure him better before we deal with whoever

is inside. Shackles won't keep him from wandering off."

"I bet I can find some rope in that barn of his."

Pierre glared at Joseph. "Keep your filthy hands away, nigg-"

Sean kicked him in his wounded shoulder. "Watch your tongue, or else you’ll lose it."

Pierre screamed.

"I bet I could find something to gag him with, too," Joseph said, glaring at Pierre.

"A mouthful of horse manure ought to do it," Sean said, heading to the cabin's backdoor.

***

A solitary candle sat in the middle of the room, but its meager light did little to penetrate

the darkness. Sean focused on every creak and groan that filled the air as he crept toward it.

Joseph followed alongside, his eyes straining to detect anything or anyone in the darkness.

A rancid stench filled the cold air. It was so intense that it made Sean's eyes water and

the back of his throat burn with every breath. It resurrected his memories of bloated corpses on


the battlefields of Bull Run and Antietam. The murky eyes of the dead staring at him. Their

uniforms too blood soaked to tell if they were blue or gray. Maggots writhing in festering flesh.

Men screaming for their mothers.

Sean swallowed hard and tightened his grip on his gun. He couldn't let the phantoms of

his past haunt him. He had to stay focused on the cabin. Sean took a few deep breaths to steady

his nerves.

Joseph stood beside Sean and gagged. "Sweet Jesus... what is that godawful stink?"

Sean crept forward and snatched the candle from the ground with his left hand, ignoring

the jolts of pain from his wounds. He held it overhead and its flickering light revealed the

corpses of a man and woman lying beside each other on the floor a few feet away. A dozen

burned out candles encircled the corpses and cryptic symbols had been carved into the

floorboards within the circle of candles. The symbols had the same bizarre geometry like the

ones in the outhouse where Mabel had been murdered.

The old woman's corpse had a leathery complexion and she stared at him with milky

eyes. Her withered lips were pulled back into a leering grin that sent a trickle of fear down

Sean's spine. Despite her horrid appearance, the most disturbing thing was that someone had

dressed her in a new blue calico dress.

The young man's corpse had a concaved head and his black tongue lolled out of his open

mouth. Just like the woman's corpse, someone had dressed him in new attire, a blue sack suit

hung from the corpse's withered remains.

Sean staggered back from the corpses. What ungodly madness had Pierre succumbed to?

He gulped some air and exhaled through his clenched teeth to calm his rattled nerves. Sean had

to control his fear; he refused to let it consume him.


The sound of shattering glass filled the air. Sean turned around with his finger on the

trigger of his gun. Joseph stood behind him with wide eyes and trembling hands. At his feet were

the shattered remains of a jar along with a bloody heart, eyeballs, and incomprehendable gore.

Sean glared at his deputy. "What in the hell are you doing?"

"Sorry … Sheriff," Joseph said. "Why … why he got … these in a jar? Is … is they

Mabel? Lord … Jesus! What in-"

A rustling from the other side of the cabin cut him off.

Sean turned toward the sound with the candle raised in front of him in one hand and his

gun in the other. Muffled moaning and the rustle of fabric seeped out of the darkness, but the

flickering candle light didn't reveal the source of the noise.

As he inched his way across the cabin, the light washed over a boy who was hog-tied

and had a flour sack over his head.

Joseph's brow furrowed as he approached Sean. "Why Pierre tie up his boy?"

Sean knelt down and pulled off the sack to reveal Lucas Kane’s sweat covered face.

Tears streamed from his wide eyes as he gazed up at Sean.

"What … what he doing here?" Joseph asked, his eyes wide.

Lucas gasped for air. "I... come up here... looking for my kin."

Sean untied him. "How'd you know where Pierre lives?"

"I ... followed his tracks … up here."

Joseph's hands trembled and he frantically look around the dark room. "Sheriff … we got

to go…we ain't got no time for no questions. We gots to go…we gots to go now!"

"I need you to keep it together, deputy," Sean said.


Lucas' eyes narrowed. "I was gonna kill him! I was gonna get my kin back! It ain't right

what he-"

Sean tossed the ropes aside. "You could've gotten yourself killed."

"I wish he would’ve done it when he caught me out back. He brought me in here and

showed me the corpses. He started doing some sorta chanting and weird dancing around the

corpses. He worked himself into a real frenzy, screaming at the top of his lungs and stomping

around my kin. Then he just got real quiet. He seemed sad and then he got all mad at me and tied

me up." Lucas said, rubbing his wrists. "Told me he was gonna make me his son, one way or the

other."

Joseph chewed on his lower lip. "Let's go, Sheriff … let's go!"

"What about his wife and boy?" Sean asked.

Lucas shrugged.

Sean headed for the back door. "Pierre better have the answers, or I'll be obliged to help

him recollect."

***

Pierre lay hogtied in the snow where Sean and Joseph had left him. A sheen of sweat

covered his ruddy face. He glared at Lucas when he stepped out of the house with Sean and

Joseph.

"Take a seat right here boy," Sean said, "and don't move until I say otherwise."

Lucas sat on a stump a few feet from the door. His eyes bored into Pierre like red hot

needles.

Sean marched over to Pierre with Joseph trailing behind him. "You son of a bitch!

What're you doing in there with those corpses? What're those candles and symbols for?"


"My-my family...is-is inside..." Pierre said through his clenched teeth.

"Don't you lie! They're not there!" Sean said, pulling the photograph from his pocket and

shoving it in Pierre's face. "This is your family!"

"They ... they ... are gone."

"You killed them, didn't you?"

Pierre shook his head. "Non...no!"

Sean grabbed a handful of Pierre's hair and jerked his head up. "Where … are … they?

"The ... avalanche!"

"What?"

"We go to town ... much weeks ago. An avalanche ... caught us," Pierre said. "I search for

them and dig for them and wander and pray for much days and nights. But ... I no find them.

They no come home to me! Then the Lord say to me 'Go to town. Make new family.' The Lord

show me ... nice place outside town. I find nice lady. Good boy also. I try...I try to make new

family ... but it no work."

Joseph's face twisted with disgust. "So, why you write that on the outhouse walls? Why'd

you kill poor old Mabel, gut her like a hog, and put in her innards in jars like that?"

Spittle sprayed from Pierre's lips. "The Lord ... The Lord demands blood to resurrect!"

"What you jawing about?" Joseph said. "We seen what you do in there, that ain't got

nothing to do with God."

Laughter trickled out of Pierre's mouth and quickly turned into a maddening howl that

defied explanation. It made Sean's head throb as if someone one were driving a railroad spike

between his eyes.

"Make him stop!" Lucas said, pressing his hands over his ears. "Make it … stop!"


Pierre stopped howling and glared at Lucas. "Brat! ... I should have gutted you too when

the ritual failed. Your organs pink and fresh would have worked more better than old woman!"

Lucas leapt to his feet and grabbed Pierre's Bowie knife that still lay where it had fallen

earlier.

Joseph tried to grab him as he darted by him. "Hold on, boy! What you doing?"

Sean tried to intercept him, but Lucas shoved him out of the way. Sean fell face first into

the deep snow. When Sean pulled himself up to his feet, Lucas had the knife pressed against

Pierre's throat.

Joseph stood a few feet behind Sean with his rifle aimed at the boy.

"Drop the knife, boy!" Joseph said, his body taunt and his eyes narrowed.

"He's gotta pay!" Lucas said, his hand trembling.

Sean stepped in between Joseph and Lucas. "There are enough corpses here already."

"You don't know what it's like, I lost my kin once and when he done took their bodies it

was like losing them all over again!"

"I do understand, Lucas," Sean said. "You and me are alike. I lost my mother when I was

about your age and I swore I'd kill the man responsible."

"Then you know why I gotta do this!"

"I understand why you want to, but I can't let you do that," Sean said, taking a couple

steps forward.

Lucas gritted his teeth. "He deserves it!"

"I hope you know what you doing, Sheriff," Joseph said, side stepping to get a clear view

of the boy.


"Yeah, he does deserve to die," Sean said, while Pierre gaped at him. "But not by your

hands."

"Don't tell me killing him is gonna make me just as bad," Lucas said, "cause that's

hogwash and you know it!"

"Killing a man is easy, living with the consequences is the tough part," Sean said, taking

another step forward. "Folks have tried to justify killing each other since Cain and Able. None of

it makes it right."

Lucas' lower lip trembled. "But ... you done it ... done it plenty."

"Yeah, and it changed me forever. I lost a bit of my soul and my innocence the first time I

killed. I saw the dead man's face and heard his cries every time I slept and when I was awake I

saw his face on every stranger. So, trust me, if you kill him it'll hunt you like a dog until you go

mad or stop feeling altogether."

Joseph peered down the barrel of his rifle. "You best listen to him, boy. Pierre ain't worth

taking a bullet for."

Lucas lowered the blade. "But ... my ma and-"

Sean closed the distance between himself and Lucas. "She raised you better than this, I

reckon."

Tears trickled down Lucas' face. "I ... just wanted ... to make things ... right!"

Sean took the knife from him. "You helped us find him and bring him to justice, that

counts for something."

"Stupid brat! I ... I should've killed you in the cemetery!" Pierre said, his face flushed

scarlet.


Sean's boot connected with Pierre's jaw with a sickening crack. His eyes rolled back and

he fell face first into the snow.

Joseph lowered his rifle. "So much for making him walk back to town."

"Toss him over his mule," Sean said. "Just make sure you tie him down good."

"Oh believe me, I will," Joseph said. "I ain’t chasing no more crazy white folks through

all this snow."

***

Sean stood beside the gallows and looked at the folks gathered on the rocky patch of

ground next to the clapboard courthouse. Normally, the lot was as vacant as a church on

Saturday night, but news had spread about Pierre's crimes and inevitable hanging. Family and

friends stood in small circles and their murmurs filled the crisp autumn air like the first rumble of

thunder. Most of them avoided looking at Pierre, and the few that did only shot fleeting glances,

as if they feared the very sight of him.

Only one person didn't falter. Lucas' eyes blazed like a wildfire as he stood in front of

the gallows. His lips were pressed into a thin line and he trembled, despite his wool frock coat.

Behind him stood Father Montes, a portly Mexican man with short-cropped black hair

and a bristly moustache. He clutched a leather bound Bible in one hand and his other was on

Lucas' shoulder. Father Montes mumbled into the boy's ear but the words seemed to have no

effect on him.

Pierre stood atop the gallows with the noose around his neck. He seemed fixated on

something off in the distance; as if he saw something no one else was privy to. Whether it was an

angel coming to carry Pierre to Heaven or a horde of demons to drag him to Hell, Sean didn't

care. Justice was about to be served, and that was all that mattered.


The trap door swung open under Pierre's feet and he plummeted through it. His fall was

abruptly halted by the noose which snapped his neck like a piece of kindling. Women screamed

and men consoled them. The crowd scattered like a startled flock of crows.

Lucas' eyes bored into Pierre like needles. Despite Father Montes prodding, he refused to

step away from the gallows.

Sean walked over to them. "You okay, son?"

Lucas shrugged.

"I am sorry, but he no listen," Father Montes said, shaking his head. "This is a good boy,

but he is more stubborn than a burro."

"Why don't you let me have a word with him," Sean said patting the preacher on the

shoulder. "I promise I'll send him straight to you once we're done."

"I hope he listens to you, Sheriff," Father Montes said, heading toward his adobe church

that sat at the far end of the street.

Sean turned his attention to Lucas. "I told you he'd face justice, and that's what he got.

Your testimony earlier this week guaranteed that. Now you don't have to worry about him

anymore."

"It don't feel right," Lucas said, glancing at him. "It was too quick, he oughta suffer more.

His body oughta be left for the crows, but I reckon he'll get proper burial that no one will dig

up."

Sean frowned. "Look, I know you're hurting but you should let it go. This talk about

torture, it has no place among law abiding folks, and that's what I am and what you-"

"Then your laws are wrong! Mercy's not for the guilty."


Sean put a hand on Lucas' shoulder and gave it a squeeze. "That fire in your belly isn't

going to do you any good, understand me?"

"You sound just like Father Montes, he's always tellin' me to 'turn the other cheek' and

'forgive'."

"He's a wise man, you should listen to him. He's helped a lot of people like you heal."

Lucas brushed Sean's hand off his shoulder and marched over to the corpse. "You both

make it sound so easy."

"I never said it was," Sean said, walking up behind him.

"What about you, Sheriff?" Lucas turned and glared at him. "Have you forgiven the man

who killed your ma?"

"I..."

"Or do you go 'round tellin' other folks how to live their lives but don't do the same

yourself?"

Sean ground his teeth. The boy's words stung like a swarm of wasps. "I'm trying to do

you a favor, one I wish I had been given."

"So you're a lying coward preaching forgiveness and justice?" Lucas said, his brow

furrowed.

Sean grabbed the boy by his coat collar. "Look, boy! You're right I never forgave that

man that killed my ma. You know what that's gotten me? Endless nights in opium dens where I

smoked so much I couldn't remember my own name. I've nearly drunk myself into the grave, too.

All so I wouldn't feel any pain. So I wouldn't see my dead mother in my dreams. But it doesn't

last, the pain always comes back to me. The hatred I feel towards him returns every day. I've

never been able to get close to another person since she died. I've spurned women who loved me


with their whole hearts and driven away good friends. All because my heart is filled with

bitterness, even after I shot that son of a bitch that killed my mother. The only thing that keeps

me from putting my gun to my head is the idea that I can help make this world a little better by

being sheriff. That I can protect people from the evil in this world. That I can save people from

going through what I did."

Lucas gaped at him.

"But if you want to throw your life away over a sorry bastard like Pierre DuBois," Sean

said, shoving Lucas into the corpse, "then go right ahead. Let that hatred and sorrow build up in

you. Let your heart fester. Or take the opportunity Father Montes is giving you. He can give you

a real home and help you forgive. Ease your pain so you can experience the joys that life has to

offer. Or end up like me, haunted by death and hatred."

Lucas stared at Sean with wide eyes.

"Go on!"

Lucas sprinted down the dusty street. His feet carried him at a frantic pace right into

Father Montes, nearly knocking him over. Before the old preacher could react, Lucas buried his

face in Father Montes' chest. Sobs wracked Lucas's body as he clung to Father Montes. After a

few moments, they headed down the street to the church.

Once they slipped out of view, Sean pulled a brass flask out of his coat pocket. The

coolness of the metal and the weight of it felt comforting and familiar, like a handshake from an

old friend. He stared at it for a moment while an ache rose up from the depths of his soul. He

knew the whiskey would be a balm for his pain. It would help him forget the memories the boy's

words had stirred up. Memories of his mother's bullet riddled corpse lying in a pool of blood.

The sound of her whimpering as she drew her last breath.


Sean shook them away. He stared at the cork in the neck of the flask. The ache in his soul

intensified. It felt like white hot needles digging into his gut.

He clenched his teeth and pulled the cork from the neck. The aroma of the whiskey

drifted out and stirred something primal in him. He licked his lips in anticipation as he brought

the flask to his mouth. His hand trembled and his soul screamed for reprieve. He needed the

numbness the whiskey would provide, he couldn't go on without it.

But from the recesses of his mind he heard his mother's voice. Full of love and joy. The

blissful sound of her laughter, delicate as a spring shower. Her smiling face and the tenderness of

her embrace.

Sean threw the flask to the ground and watched the whiskey soak into the hard packed

dirt. "No more … no more."


ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Kevin Hurtack graduated from Miskatonic University in Arkham, Massachusetts with a

bachelor's degree in antediluvian religion and mysticism. While investigating a so called 'lost'

chapter of the Necronomicon, he went missing. Recently, witnesses have claimed to have seen

him in the Rocky Mountain region in the company of creatures that are beyond comprehension.

If you enjoyed this short story and would like to stay up to date with news about his

future projects and learn more about him then please go to www.kevinhurtack.wordpress.com

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A LURKER AMONG THE DEAD Gunsmoke & Ghouls Press Cover ... · your deputy this morning and told him what happened." "Maybe this stranger was worried that coyotes was going to dig up