Skull Moon

Wynona considered it. Yes, all men…but it had to be a coincidence, right? It could be nothing else. The idea of a creature that selected its victims…now that was frightening. She'd never even contemplated such a thing. But now that she had, she feared it would never leave her brain.

"Well," Wynona said, "you've certainly given me food for thought. Dark food, at that."

Longtree thanked her for her help and left.

Wynona shrugged and went back to the cadaver of Nate Segaris. "Well, Nate, back to work. Did I ever tell you that I was well-acquainted with your mother? No? It was when you were off fighting the war…"

3

Longtree next did what he dreaded: he went to the Sheriff's office.

He'd dealt with countless local lawmen in his tenure as a federal marshal. They came in all varieties as did all men. Some were kind and friendly, glad for his assistance. Others were suspicious, yet helpful. Still others were like Lauters: arrogant, hateful, self-serving. They saw the advent of a federal man in their territory as an insult, the government's way of saying they weren't doing their job. And nothing could be farther from the truth.

Longtree fought through the vicious winds and entered the jailhouse. As he feared, Lauters was there. Without the heavy coat on, he was still a large man, earning his nickname of "Big Bill". He was a powerful fellow, Longtree decided, both physically and psychologically. But well past his prime. He was fat, bloated almost, having the look of a man who drank heavily on a daily basis. His face was puffy and white, the eyes bloodshot, blood vessels broken in his nose.

He was a veteran alcoholic. There was no doubt of this. Longtree, a man who'd battled the bottle himself, knew a drunk when he saw one.

"Morning, Sheriff," Longtree said.

Lauters just glared. His pale lips spread in a frown. They didn't have to go very far. "Well, well, well, the Marshal has come to save the day."

Longtree suppressed a grin. Lauters was drunk. "I need a little information on the murdered men."

"Well, you won't get it from me."

"C'mon, Sheriff. What's the point of this? You know the law; you have to cooperate. Help me out here and I'll do my best to stay out of your hair."

"Yeah, I know the law, mister," Lauters said slowly, his eyes not quite focusing. "I know the goddamn law and I don't need no yellow sonofbitch like you to tell it to me. Damn breed."

Longtree sighed and put his hat on the desk. "You got a deputy?"

"None of yer fucking business."

Longtree sat down and stared at the man. Obviously, he'd been doing some checking to know that Longtree was a half-breed or "breed", as he called it. That meant that he probably knew everything there was to know. Not that it mattered.

"You're wrong there, Sheriff, it is my business. I'll ask you again: Do you have a deputy?"

"Goddamn breed. You know how many injuns I've killed? Do you?"

Longtree grinned sardonically. "Know how many white men I've killed?"

Lauters stood up, swaying a bit. "I oughta take yer sorry ass out back and teach it a lesson."

"Nothing you can teach me, Sheriff. Nothing at all."

"Wanna slap leather, boy? You wanna-"

"Sheriff." The voice was stern, authoritative. It belonged to a white-haired man with a drooping gray mustache. "That'll be enough now. We got enough problems around here without you being put in your own jail."

Lauters grimaced and staggered into the back room. Another man came out, shutting the door behind him. He was tall and thin, not more than thirty, wearing a deputy's badge.

"I'm Doctor Perry," the old man said. "This here's Alden Bowes. We're pleased to meet you."

Longtree shook hands with both of them.

"What you're seeing there," Perry said, stabbing his thumb at the back room, "is the wreck of a good man."

"Too bad," Longtree said.

Bowes shrugged. "He never used to drink, mister. Maybe a drop or two on Saturday night, never more. I swear to God."

"I believe you," Longtree said. "The fact remains that he's in a bad way now. He's a menace. A man in his position can't go around in a drunken stupor. He'll kill someone eventually."

"He wouldn't do that," Bowes affirmed.

"You don't think so?"

Neither Perry nor the deputy bothered arguing the point.

"I gotta get back," Perry said, tipping his hat. "Marshal."

Longtree took out his tobacco pouch and rolled a cigarette. "I don't know what you might think of me, Deputy, or what the Sheriff has filled your head with, but-"

"I draw my own conclusions on a man, Marshal."

Longtree nodded, lighting his cigarette, a cloud of smoke twisting lazily away from his face. "We've got us a major problem here, Deputy. We've got a slew of killings and they ain't gonna stop the way Lauters is doing things. You and I, we'll have to work together on this."