The Fifth Rider: New Damascus, Page 3

  When he came upon the tree, still weeping with the sand a gritty mud by its roots, Jacob flung the entire contents of the buckets onto it. He was a man of faith and he had to be strong in his convictions, but even the preacher yelled in fear when the tree smoked and steamed, shriveling to a blackened lump.

  Letting his hand fall from his eyes, the acrid smoke stinging his nostrils, Jacob felt his heart pound harder. This was working, and he knew he had done the right thing. Beginning to feel excited, Jacob strode with more purpose back to the Henry ranch to refill his bucket when he heard a shrill scream. Startled, he looked around, though the town was quiet, and realized it was coming from the Miller farm. The bucket dropped to the ground as he ran, full-tilt, screaming inwardly: no, no! We found a way!

  Ellie burst out of the Miller barn, her hat gone and her hair flying away in escaped tendrils. She was pale as a sheet and nearly collided into Jacob, completely oblivious to her surroundings. He grabbed her by the arms, as she was still struggling to flee.

  “Ellie! Ellie, what is it?”

  Finally, she seemed to recognize him and brought her hands up to her mouth. She couldn't say anything, but only pointed to the barn. After he was certain she had come back to her senses, Jacob took a deep breath and opened the barn door.

  It was dark inside, though rays of sunlight broke through the slits in the roof. He could hear an odd, rhythmic creaking and closed his eyes. He didn't want to see this, he knew what that creaking was...

  Jacob came out of the barn some twenty minutes later, tucking his sickle back into the waistband of his cassock. Ellie was sitting on top of a barrel, pale and still shivering, though her eyes brightened to see him.

  “I cut them down. Where are the children?”

  Usually so unflappable, it disturbed Jacob to see Ellie so afraid that it was difficult for her to speak. Nervously, she pinched her cheeks and slowly colour began to flow back into her face. She waved away his offered arm, standing up tall and straight of her own strength again.

  “There's no sign of them. I checked the house first. All of their clothes, their toys...it's as if they never existed.”

  Jacob scrubbed his eyes with the heel of his hand, suddenly feeling so weary. “We don't have enough men to mount a search for them. They could be anywhere in the desert.”

  Ellie gave him a sharp look, reaching into the pocket of her slacks. “I think we both know those children will never be found again, Jacob.”

  She pulled a cigarette from out of a slim case, striking a match against the bottom of her boot heel. Jacob suddenly felt annoyed with her. “You can't give up so easily. You can't let go of all hope to evil like this.”

  Blue smoke furled out from her nostrils, marking a hazy trail of her frightened breath escaping from her lips. She shook her head, her eyes staring somewhere far off into the horizon. “You cannot grow things in a graveyard. That's what this town is now. You do not have to fight the devil everyday. Let him have his hell. We don't need to live in it too.”

  Jacob felt something shake inside of him, it seemed all he did was shiver. It was like there were black clouds over New Damascus and with them they brought a chill that had his muscles and insides constantly tense up in knots. It made him shiver, shiver, and the shivering brought a weariness that went down deep into his bones. Ellie, who looked so much like golden hope, could not say these things or else he couldn't ignore how much this shivering felt like dying.

  Just as he was about to say something, anything, feeble or meek so long as it protested the truth in her words, a shadow passed over the sun. Startled, they both looked aghast at each other and then up into the sky.

  A thousand crows flew up overhead, their beating wings making it looks like a writhing mass of ink spitting and hurling itself towards New Damascus. Instinctively, Jacob grabbed Ellie's hand and they ran for the porch of the Miller house, ducking their heads and covering themselves.

  The crows seemed to fall from the sky like ash meteors, hurtling themselves to the ground or the rooftops. Some indeed fell dead and littered the ground with meaty thumps. The rest screeched and cawed, a thousand beaks creating a roaring din of chatter that made Jacob's toes curl. They settled like hell's blanket over the town, covering every surface they could and washing it black.

  Slowly, Jacob and Ellie got to their feet, staring awestruck at the sudden transformation of their home. They saw Alton running into town square with a shotgun, firing rounds into the thickest masses of crows. The birds merely shrieked, hopping into the air and berating him, before settling back down onto their perches again. The ones that were struck by the scatter shot plopped to the ground, ignored by their companions.

  Alton sank to his knees on the ground littered with dead black birds. They saw his shoulders shake and realized he was sobbing.

  ***

  “Hallo? Hallo - “

  The rail worker suddenly froze, flinging his hands in the air to show he was harmless, his eyes locked on the rifle pointed at his chest.

  “What do you want?” Jacob's voice sounded harsh and dry, even to his ears.

  The rail worker, this one a young man with sandy blonde hair and only the barest of dusting on his chin, reached into his pocket and brought out a fat envelope. “I was just sent by the foreman to trade for supplies.”

  Jacob didn't lower the rifle. “We aren't open for trade.”

  The rail worker, only barely a man, held out the envelope still. His adam's apple bobbed as he tried to smile. “We know you folks have had trouble out here, but we're just honest working men. We need flour, salt, eggs. Please, mister.”

  “It's Father Turner,” Jacob said, but he lowered the muzzle of his rifle. “Look at the store, son. Do you see any supplies for you?”

  The rail worker did as he was told, and it seemed only then did he realize the general store was in shambles. His hand clutching the envelope fell, along with the smile on his face. Jacob could see the fear beginning to build in the boy's eyes, it was as if the whole town was infected and the dread was contagious. After Samuel Miller’s death the remaining men in town had locked up their houses and stayed inside, leaving the town square empty. If the rail worker stayed long enough he'd be sobbing uncontrollably in a backroom, like Alton was at the moment.

  “We have flour in the back, and salt. No eggs.” Ellie came up from the cellar, wiping her hands on a rag. She shrugged her shoulders at Jacob. “They'll just sit there rotting anyhow.”

  Jacob put the rifle against the wall, sitting down behind the counter. He was too tired and ill-suited for this spook man's work anyway, he did not like being a guard dog. The weight of the rifle made his arms ache and he was always nervous his finger would twitch against the trigger when he didn't want it too.

  Ellie took the envelope of money and showed the young man where he could haul up the sacks of flour from. Jacob found Ellie was faster to find her composure and keep a level head better than he could.

  “Do you have any pre-rolled's?” The young man asked. Jacob looked at him quizzically. “Cigarettes, the factory made ones.”

  Ellie opened a few cupboards until she found a large carton of pre-rolled cigarettes. The young man reached for them eagerly, but she yanked her arm back. “That's an extra twenty.”

  “That’s thievery, miss.” The rail worker grumbled a little more, but dug into his pockets and came up with the money. Jacob helped him load up his donkey cart outside and sent him on his way without so much as a goodbye.

  Ellie was looking interestedly through the cupboard and fished out one of the pre-rolled cigarettes. She tossed one to Jacob and put one in her mouth. “Come on, Father. I'm going to teach you how to smoke.”

  Jacob's lips twisted into an amused smirk despite himself. “I know how to smoke, Ellie.”

  She tugged on his arm, leading him outside where they could sit on the general store's porch. “You know how to smoke a pipe, but you don't know how to smoke these. I can teach you the way they do it in Paris.”


  They sat on the porch steps, Ellie trying to strike a match off her boot heel. The sky was already beginning to darken into night, the clouds tinged purple and red. Jacob could hear the crows cawing occasionally, though with nightfall arriving they were harder to see. Ellie's match finally guttered and spat into life, a bright orange flame casting its glow onto her face. She lit Jacob's cigarette and then her own. To humour her, Jacob puffed on the cigarette between his thumb and index finger.

  “No, no, hold it like this.” Ellie plucked the cigarette from his grasp and repositioned it between his index and third finger. She held hers up daintily, laughing at him. “There's a trick to inhaling it, so it streams out of your nose. It's the sophisticated way.”

  Jacob puffed again on the cigarette to be polite. “I'm not very sophisticated, Ellie.”

  “I don't think that's true.” The sun had almost disappeared completely, and her skin glowed orange every other moment as the bright cherry of her cigarette flared with each puff. The flickering moments her face were revealed put Jacob in a sort of trance until he realized he had been staring too long, looking away embarrassed.

  “You should go,” he finally managed, his smoke ignored and tossed onto the ground, the paper and tobacco burned away into a long column of ash. “The rail line is almost done laying tracks here, and they'll be moving on to bigger towns. You're young, you're clever...you'll be able to have a better life away from here.”

  He felt her hand slip into his in the darkness, her voice hushed. “Come with me.”

  “I built a church here. I can't abandon it.”

  He felt her hands tugging on the front of his robes, pulling him to face her. “Please, Jacob. You can find another church. I can't help thinking something terrible will happen to anyone who stays here. You don't need to do this.”

  He felt her hand reach for the side of his face, and it was nearly his undoing, but with a shaky breath he shook his head. “This is my trial.”

  He felt her pull him closer in the darkness, and though he could not see her well, he could make out the earnest glint in her eyes, smell the salt of her tears, and felt as she pressed her lips to his. He felt like two forces were trying to tear him apart, one saying go, one saying leave, and all it accomplished was to freeze him in place as if he were made of stone. Her mouth was warm and he could taste the tobacco on her tongue, bitter, and a little like death. Though that one lingering note was not the honey or fruit he had sometimes imagined her to be, in his darkest depths it excited and quickened his pulse the most.

  When she broke away from him it felt like an eternity and too soon. He wasn't sure, but he thought she looked sad.

  “You shouldn't have done that,” he finally whispered.

  “I shouldn't have waited,” she replied as she stood up and went back inside the store.

  ***

  “Hallo? Ellie, open up.” Alton rapped sharply on the door, growing impatient. He had been hollering for her for five minutes, and had even checked behind the house to see if she had been with her animals. He had been going door to the door and some of the more frightened men had even pushed guns into his face until he could calm them. Everyone was spooked, but he hoped Ellie hadn’t completely lost all sense too.

  “Ellie, this is important. We have a town meeting at the church, everyone has to be there.” Still silence. “Girl, are you in there?”

  On a whim, Alton tried opening the door to find it unlocked. Cautiously, he stepped inside. He held up his rifle, already dreading what he might find inside. Considering what he had witnessed the past few days, he was expecting the worst.

  “Ellie? Ellie, girl?” Alton stepped carefully through her small house, finding the kitchen and parlour empty. Nothing looked disturbed or broken, and he fought to keep down his panic. “Ellie?”

  He heard a noise behind a closed door. It sounded like moaning. Eyes wide, Alton cocked his rifle, and kicked the door open. He found Ellie strewn on the floor of her bedroom, pale as a sheet and her hair in tangles.

  “Jesus wept.” Alton rushed over, slinging his rifle behind his back, and helped Ellie up. She shivered against him, her skin clammy with sweat and retched. Alton found her wash basin on the floor beside her, already filled with a murky liquid, and held it out to her. She clutched the porcelain and her body heaved again as she vomited dirty water.

  “You'll be fine, you'll be fine, girl,” he murmured over and over, unable to do anymore than hold her as her fits subsided.

  When Alton made it back to the chapel, he pulled Mrs. Henry aside and quietly told her to go to Ellie's side. She was too weak to walk or for him to move her. Father Jacob immediately seemed to sense something was wrong, but Alton gave him a look that told him to ask later. There was already a small crowd gathered in the church of the few families left in New Damascus, all buzzing nervously amongst themselves.

  Alton put his rifle against the wall and banged his fist on the podium to get everyone’s attention. “Now, I’ve asked all you to come here for an emergency town meeting. Had to drag some of you out here with my own hands. We’ve been having troubles recently…troubles that’s giving everyone nightmares. But we are letting out fears run our lives and our town has no one working in it anymore. Cattle needs to pasture, dairy cows need milking, calf season is soon coming upon us. New wells have to be dug and we have buildings to repair. We all need to help carry that load until we can figure out how to divvy up that property. We have to be good neighbours, and be a good town, especially during hardship.”

  Alton could see the frightened faces, and the grumbling still. He banged his fist on the podium again. “You made this your home, now earn it! Let me show you how to start. Who needs a helping hand with work? Anyone?”

  He saw several people look down sheepishly at their feet, and the church was silent for a moment. One older man, Dick Anson, slowly held up his hand. “Well, if you're offering, I do have two cows about to calf soon. And there's only me to keep calf watch through night and day.”

  Alton stepped off from the podium. “Then myself and Father Jacob here will help you with calf watch. If everyone pitches in again and lends a hand, we'll have New Damascus back to normal in no time.” He glared at the rest of the congregation, hoping he had shamed them enough and strode out of the chapel, hand clapped to Dick's back.

  A few strides out of the chapel door, Father Jacob caught up with the two men, an amused expression on his face. “Say, Alton, do you know what to do when a calf is born?”

  Alton looked behind his shoulder to make sure they were out of earshot from the church. “Absolutely nothing.”

  ***

  “Oh, Ellie girl...” Mrs. Henry helped tie back Ellie's hair, wiping her face down with a damp cloth. Ellie struggled to sit up on the bed, her breathing shallow and her belly round and tight as a drum.

  “Who's the father?”

  Ellie shook her head mutely, her eyes red-rimmed and wild. “No one...I've never.”

  Mrs. Henry brought a glass of water to her lips and helped her drink. She pressed a hand to Ellie's stomach, her brow furrowed in concentration. “There's a child in there, girl. You've signs of showing now too.”

  Ellie fell back onto the pillows, her breathing laboured and sweat still dripping from her temple. “I swear, Anne...it isn't anyone...”

  Mrs. Henry smoothed back her hair, a knowing but understanding look crinkled on her face. “There isn't anyone, or for dignity's sake you can't say?”

  Ellie felt hot tears dripping from her eyes, though she was too weak to sob. “No one...there's no one...”

  ***

  “Bring that water here.” Dick held out his hands for the tin bucket, setting it down on the floor and dropping the strips of cloth into it. “Horses now, they're a headache every time. Always a risk you'll lose a good horse to foaling, damn fussy beasts they are. Cows ain't no trouble, they squirt 'em out like butter. Once in a blue moon you get one turned the wrong way up inside, but a skilled hand you can flip 'em right way up ag
ain.”

  Alton looked utterly repulsed, grabbing one of the cloth strips to wipe the traces of placenta off his hands, which Dick had already caught in a bucket and stored away for later use. His heifer, Molly, was lowing and twitching her ears, her muscles trembling. He patted her on the side, chuckling, “dopey beast” while massaging her belly.

  “Calf feels good, looks like smooth sailin' from here, gents.”

  Jacob had to admit the stable did reek something foul, but he had a smile on his face where Alton was trying to not be sick. The whole business was messy and long, but there was new life being born into New Damascus, and it felt right.

  “The head's poking out. Come on, girl. This'll be her seventh, she's a good animal.”

  Dick handed one of the soaked cloths to Jacob, and together they helped massage Molly's swollen belly, and gently tease the calf out. It's skinny legs, covered in slime, touched the floor and the rest of its body seemed to sigh out into the stable. Jacob was marveling at how, already, fully-formed it was when he happened to catch Dick's eye and saw the ranch hand's mouth set in a frown. The calf fell to the floor in a tangle of legs and was completely still. Jacob realized then that it was stillborn.