{"id":116,"date":"2020-11-23T20:37:17","date_gmt":"2020-11-23T20:37:17","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/janesenese.com\/?page_id=116"},"modified":"2020-11-23T20:39:22","modified_gmt":"2020-11-23T20:39:22","slug":"the-wolf-charmer-preview","status":"publish","type":"page","link":"http:\/\/janesenese.com\/eots\/the-wolf-charmer-preview\/","title":{"rendered":"The Wolf Charmer – Preview"},"content":{"rendered":"

One<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n

Frank Maddock\u2019s GENUINE Indian Exhibition,<\/em> read the flyer tacked to the wall of the Capital saloon. Featuring Wonders of the Natural World.<\/em> Nell flicked at it idly as she waited. The show was still two days away, yet the poster was already fading in the Nevada sun.<\/p>\n

Full Color Stereoptical Scenes of America
\n<\/em>A Demonstration of Chief Buffalo\u2019s Miracle Cream
\n<\/em>Live Animals \u2013 Cultural Scenes
\n<\/em>Natural Curiosities: the JACKALOPE \u2013 Colter\u2019s Horned Hare!
\n<\/em>Human Museum: Meet WHITE MOON \u2013 the Pale-Faced Squaw!
\n<\/em>Witness BLACKFELL \u2013 the FAMED Navajo WOLF-CHARMER!
\n<\/em>Only 10 cents for Adults and Children Alike<\/em><\/p>\n

Nell knew well enough that an act so loudly touted as \u201cgenuine\u201d was anything but. Still, the big circuses never came closer than Reno now, and new entertainments were few and far between.<\/p>\n

When Nell had been a child, she had heard stories about the celebrities who would pass through the Comstock \u2013 actors performing Shakespeare at the Opera House, society belles riding the brand-new elevator at the International Hotel. But as the sun dropped behind Mount Davidson, the only folks on the street were a few shiftless youngsters.<\/p>\n

The miners would start filing home in another hour, a parade of spent men in faded clothes. Each year the parade shrank a little more. Nell found it hard to pity their lot. At least they had work.<\/p>\n

The depression was nearly twenty years old now, and the cause was simple: the Comstock was emptied-out. Mount Davidson had seen its hillside shaved away; the original \u201cGold Hill\u201d was now a shallow depression in the canyon walls. Two miles north in Virginia City, the ground underfoot was literally hollowed out: every few months another sinkhole opened up under someone\u2019s house. In places, Nell heard, the mine shafts reached some three thousand feet deep, halfway down to sea level.<\/p>\n

Still the economy limped along. The men blasted still deeper shafts, certain another lode lay just out of reach. They milled the low-grade ore they had once ignored, to squeeze out the last of the silver dregs. They dreamed of building a cyanide mill, to extract the still-smaller traces of gold from the tons of waste rock. They hoped for better days.<\/p>\n

What else could they do? The landscape was too arid for ranching or farming. Four decades of settlement had stripped the forests and decimated the wildlife. Yet the two generations born and raised on the Comstock could not imagine living anywhere else.<\/p>\n

Nell could imagine living somewhere else. When she heard stories of San Francisco \u2013 its vibrancy and diversity, its bright future \u2013 she easily envisoned herself walking its streets. But what she had in imagination, she lacked in hard currency.<\/p>\n

She saw her mother coming up the street, shoulders bent under a heavy sack of linens. Nell cursed under her breath and began to turn away, but it was too late. The hunched figure had spotted her.<\/p>\n

Ruth Johns was a small woman, thin and prematurely aged. Nell had vague memories of her mother as a delicate beauty with creamy brown skin, but now her face was pinched and hard, skin rough like old leather.<\/p>\n

Nell had never been delicate. Even as a child she had had her father\u2019s height, his broad shoulders and large hands.<\/p>\n

\u201cEleanor! I haven\u2019t seen you about lately.\u201d<\/p>\n

She knew better than to trust her mother\u2019s smile. She couldn\u2019t remember the last time she had seen the woman genuinely happy.<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, you\u2019re seeing me now.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cMm, loitering on a street corner.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m waiting for someone.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAt this hour? I raised you better.\u201d<\/p>\n

You didn\u2019t raise me at all,<\/em> Nell longed to say. Her earliest memories were not of her parents, but of the impoverished white widow who had earned a dollar a week bringing Nell up alongside her own child.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat do you want, Momma?\u201d Nell asked instead.<\/p>\n

\u201cI want you to come home.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cPft. We both know that ain\u2019t gonna happen.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI just don\u2019t understand why you throw your money away on a rented bed when you have a family ready to take care of you.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI don\u2019t need taking care of.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNell, I worry about you.\u201d<\/p>\n

Picked a hell of a time to start. <\/em>\u201cWhy?\u201d Nell fought to keep her voice reasonable. \u201cIt\u2019s got nothing to do with you.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou quit your job. You\u2019re sleeping on a rented bed. And what will you do when your money runs out? Who\u2019s going to take care of you then?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWho says I need to be taken care of?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNell, you\u2019re almost thirty. No one in their right minds wants to hire an old spinster when there are young\u2019uns looking for work. And with your reputation, what man will take you on?\u201d<\/p>\n

Nell heaved a sigh. \u201cI thought we settled this.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIf you\u2019d just talk to Shiloh\u2013\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo!\u201d Nell stamped her foot in the dirt, startling them both. \u201cNo,\u201d she repeated, more gently. \u201cI ain\u2019t baggage to be \u2018taken on.\u2019 And I ain\u2019t your problem to be fixed. We made deal, remember? I take care of myself now. I don\u2019t ask for anything of you, and you don\u2019t get anything from me.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhy do you have to see everything like\u2026 business?\u201d Ruth spat out the word with righteous disgust. \u201cYou\u2019re my daughter. I love you. That isn\u2019t something I can just snuff out.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAw, you\u2019re just not trying hard enough.\u201d<\/p>\n

Nell felt a cold sort of triumph as she saw her mother flinch. The satisfaction was short-lived; remorse came swiftly on its heels. Nell hunched her shoulders, the brooding posture of a shamed child.<\/p>\n

Ruth should have known better than to bring up her lack of work, she thought resentfully. Everyone knew if you stirred a hornet\u2019s nest, you were liable to get stung.<\/p>\n

\u201cI just want what\u2019s best for you,\u201d Ruth murmured contritely, wringing her gnarled hands. The laundry lye had left her dry skin laced with scars, and years of hemming plainwork for pennies had shriveled her fingers to claws. Nell clenched her own hands reflexively, feeling the knuckle joints with her thumbs. Was it only her imagination, or were her own fingers somewhat thinner of late?<\/p>\n

\u201cWish you\u2019d trust me<\/em> to know what\u2019s best for me.\u201d Nell glanced downhill. A rider was coming up the road, followed closely by a large gray dog. \u00a0\u201cLook, I gotta go, Momma. I told you, I\u2019m meeting someone.\u201d<\/p>\n

Ruth followed her daughter\u2019s gaze, and her mouth puckered in disapproval. \u201cThe deviant.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDon\u2019t you call her that!\u201d Nell snapped hotly.<\/p>\n

\u201cI ain\u2019t the only one, and you know it. She\u2019s a bad influence on you.\u201d<\/p>\n

She was right, of course, but Nell would never admit it. \u201cAt least she\u2019s married. Might rub off on me.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhen will I see you again?\u201d<\/p>\n

Nell shrugged. \u201cIt\u2019s a small town.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u2018Will you at least come to dinner one night? The boys miss you.\u201d<\/p>\n

Nell doubted it. But she was willing to say anything to end the conversation.<\/p>\n

\u201cFine, fine. I\u2019ll come\u2026 Sunday, okay? You go on home. Don\u2019t stand around with that load on your back all day.\u201d<\/p>\n

Ruth narrowed her eyes. She clearly didn\u2019t trust Nell\u2019s sudden obedience, but she was used to taking what she could get. \u201cSunday,\u201d she said firmly. Then she turned and resumed her weary march uphill. Nell watched her go until her chest ached. Only then did she realize she had been holding her breath.<\/p>\n

They had not always been so estranged. For much of Nell\u2019s adult life, mother and daughter had treated each other with a distant courtesy. It had been easy enough; their busy lives had left little time to brood on mistakes of the past. Every so often, they reconnected over tea and said nothing of consequence. That too was part of the deal; least said, soonest mended. The rest of the time, Nell scarcely thought of her mother, and she assumed Ruth did the same.<\/p>\n

Then Nell had found herself out of work for the first time since leaving home, and Ruth decided to take an interest in her wayward daughter once more.<\/p>\n

Nell had no one to blame but herself, according to her family. Only a fool walked away from a paying job in the middle of a depression. No matter that she had been treated little better than a dog. No matter that she was the last to be praised, but the first accused when something went missing. A colored maid could expect nothing better. Most expected much worse. She had been given food and board and left unmolested. It was sheer selfishness to ask for more.<\/p>\n

And she was<\/em> selfish. She made no apologies for it. She valued herself highly; she had to, for no one else would. The world had no place for women like her.<\/p>\n

Nor was it particularly accommodating to the approaching rider. Nell felt a weight lift from her shoulders as she hailed her friend. Only with Charlie Franklin did she feel like something more than an outcast.<\/p>\n

\u201cSo this is the horse you\u2019ve been raving about,\u201d Nell said.<\/p>\n

The paint horse was tall and well proportioned, but his nervous bearing was apparent even to Nell\u2019s untrained eye. Nell couldn\u2019t blame him. The grinning wolf-dog made just about everyone nervous. When the canine got too close, the horse drew up short of the hitching post, and blew out a loud snort through flared nostrils.<\/p>\n

\u201cGarou!\u201d Charlie snapped. \u201cLeave off!\u201d<\/p>\n

The dog scurried back obediently, but the horse was slower to settle. When Charlie pulled hard on the reins to correct him, he reared up, causing her to cling to the saddle horn as her hat went flying.<\/p>\n

\u201cDamn it, Clem!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, shoot,\u201d Nell laughed. \u201cIf you haul on the reins like you\u2019re spoiling for a fight, he\u2019ll give you one. Even I could have told you that.\u201d<\/p>\n

Charlie eased her grip on the reins, and the horse slowly relaxed. He even took a step towards the hitching post of his own free will. Charlie grinned sheepishly. \u201cI guess I\u2019m used to wrestling with Connor\u2019s horse.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cReckon that\u2019s why he bought you your own.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHe calls it an early birthday present. But you\u2019re right \u2013 he was<\/em> getting a bit sick of sharing.\u201d Tentatively, she stroked the horse\u2019s neck. \u201cThere, Clem. You\u2019re a good boy.\u201d<\/p>\n

Nell raised a quizzical eyebrow. \u201cClem?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cShort for Clemens. You know: Mark\u2013\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201c\u2013Twain,\u201d Nell finished for her. Of course. Charlie had every book Sam Clemens had ever written. Nell didn\u2019t quite understand the appeal herself. The man tried much too hard to be clever.<\/p>\n

Charlie swung down from the horse with a practiced air. The wolf-dog had already retrieved her hat from the lane, and now trotted over to her side, tail wagging.<\/p>\n

\u201cAw, thank you, Rou.\u201d Charlie pried the hat out of his jaws and shook off the worst of the dust and saliva. It wasn\u2019t the dainty sort of felt hat most lady riders fancied, but a big Stetson Boss, already well-worn and creased after a mere four months of use.<\/p>\n

Nell had known Charlie would be trouble from the first. The unwanted relation of Nell\u2019s former employers, she had shown up in cropped hair and denim trousers, stinking of the big city. No one could have predicted she\u2019d end up wed to the richest man in town. Or that Nell would come to count her as that rarest commodity \u2013 a genuine friend.<\/p>\n

Unadorned, she was a strangely sexless creature, with her blunt features and her flat chest. All the paint and lace in the world couldn\u2019t give her womanly grace. When she got herself up in buckskins and pulled her Stetson down low over her face, she could easily pass for a boy. But this evening she was indulging what passed for her femininity: pairing a tailored woman\u2019s jacket and colorful kerchief with her wide-legged riding culottes. Her blond hair had grown out somewhat since Nell first met her, and she let it hang loose in a shaggy bob about her jawline. Nell had once asked her if she intended to let it grow properly, now that she was a married woman, and Charlie had laughed and said that her husband forbade it.<\/p>\n

Like sticks to like<\/em>, Nell reckoned. Connor Franklin was quite the queer thing himself.<\/p>\n

\u201cWere you talking to your ma?\u201d Charlie asked, as she tied up the horse. \u201cI would have loved to meet her.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo, you really wouldn\u2019t,\u201d Nell said brusquely. When Charlie blinked at her in confusion, Nell was forced to add, \u201cShe don\u2019t much approve of you.\u201d<\/p>\n

The younger woman smirked at the thought. \u201cMost mothers don\u2019t.\u201d She gave the horse a gentle rub on the muzzle. \u201cWhat do you think? Just signed off on the papers today.\u201d<\/p>\n

Nell recognized the brand at the horse\u2019s left shoulder: a P wearing a jagged crown, over a Lazy M. The Crown Point Livery Stables traded in only the finest mustangs.<\/p>\n

\u201cHe from the batch they bought back in May?\u201d Nell asked.<\/p>\n

Charlie nodded. \u201cAt first I had my eye on the other mustang, but as soon as Garou ran over, he was fixing to kick his head in.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cTo be fair, lots of folk think about kicking your dog\u2019s head in,\u201d Nell said wryly.<\/p>\n

Garou blinked up at Nell, all puppyish innocence.<\/p>\n

\u201cBut Clem just sort of shied off, so we knew he was the one,\u201d Charlie went on. \u201cConnor says it\u2019s probably \u2019cause Wes broke him himself.\u201d<\/p>\n

Nell was surprised at the sudden pang in her heart. \u201cWes is breaking horses again?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhy? He wasn\u2019t before?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cShoot, not in the last ten years. He used to. Got his start working for Grant Weatherbee as a breaker. But he never got the hang of it. Always took too long.\u201d She couldn\u2019t imagine any horse trained by Wesley Benedict would come out calmer for the experience.<\/p>\n

The boy she had once loved had grown into a brooding, nettlesome man. He\u2019d done well for himself: a solid income as a farrier, a partnership in the livery stables, and a fine house he owned outright. Yet he carried himself as if crushed by some unspeakable burden. When he drank to excess \u2013 which was too often \u2013 he was prone to self-pity and quick to anger. Sober, he shunned the company of others, preferring to take out his ill-defined frustrations on his anvil. Nell often wondered how he could take so little joy in life, so little pride in himself.<\/p>\n

It enraged her sometimes, to think about all those advantages squandered on a man who couldn\u2019t appreciate them. Mostly it just made her sad. Something was very wrong, if she could find more satisfaction in her life of drudgery than Wes could in his of privilege.<\/p>\n

So she tried not to think about it. She tried to not think about him<\/em>.<\/p>\n

Charlie jerked a thumb towards the saloon door. \u201cCome on, what\u2019ll you have? I\u2019m buying. You be good, Garou, and guard Clem for me. All right? Sit. Sit!\u201d she repeated with emphasis, when the dog began to sulk.<\/p>\n

Nell took what had become their usual table, wedged at the very rear of the saloon. The rock walls kept the corner relatively cool, but the lack of fresh air meant it was always the last to be claimed. Nell caught a dirty look from a man deep in his drink, but she couldn\u2019t tell whether it was meant for her or Charlie. Most saloon owners had figured out they could serve unescorted women without the sky falling down, but their patrons still lagged behind the times.<\/p>\n

Charlie paid for their drinks \u2013 a weak ale for Nell and a bottle of soda for herself \u2013 and brought them to the table, along with a big bowl of Saratoga chips. \u201cSo how\u2019s your ma doing?\u201d she asked. \u201cStill wringing her hands over you?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cTrying to act like it. Truth is, I don\u2019t think she wants me to find work. Just another distraction keeping me from my God-given destiny as Mrs. Shiloh Todd.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cShiloh? Shoot, you\u2019d think she\u2019d realize that ship has sailed.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cUh-huh.\u201d Nell helped herself to a handful of chips. \u201cReckon even Shiloh has figured that out \u2013 God knows it took him long enough. But\u2026 he is<\/em> the only colored man in Gold Hill I ain\u2019t related to.\u201d She flashed Charlie a pained smile. \u201cAnd as Momma loves to remind me: I already let him sample the wares, so who else is gonna wanna buy the goods?<\/p>\n

\u201cOf course, if I want to be all pig-headed about it, there are two<\/em> unattached Negros up the hill in Virginia who might be tempted, and neither one a day under fifty! Plus a fella down in Dayton who may or may not be spoken for. And it is so sad that I know all o\u2019 that.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSuppose he has to be colored, huh?\u201d Charlie commiserated, before taking a long pull from her bottle. Nell cast a nervous glance around the bar, then lowered her voice to a whisper.<\/p>\n

\u201cOf course<\/em> he has to be colored! What kinda question is that?\u201d<\/p>\n

Charlie shrugged. Nell had to remind herself that the urchin had never had a proper upbringing. Running around Frisco\u2019s tenements where all sorts of folks mixed around, Charlie was as heedless of the rules that governed race as she was of those concerning their sex. It was at once her most endearing trait and a constant source of frustration.<\/p>\n

\u201cGuess it depends how badly your ma wants you married, that\u2019s all,\u201d Charlie said.<\/p>\n

\u201cShe wants me to tell her she was right all along. That a woman ain\u2019t nothing without a man.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIf that ain\u2019t some bassackward ignorance,\u201d Charlie sneered.<\/p>\n

\u201cSays the gal who met and married her beau all within a week!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cTwo weeks,\u201d Charlie corrected. But she smiled rather guiltily all the same. \u201cNever said a man ain\u2019t a pleasant thing to have around\u2026 long as he knows his place.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYours does, and no mistake. Where is he, anyway? After buying you a horse, I figured he\u2019d be keeping you close for some gratitude<\/em>.\u201d<\/p>\n

Charlie laughed at her suggestive tone. \u201cHow much does a horse go for, in gratitude?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDamned if I know. Only thing Shiloh ever gave me was a pinwatch, and he thought that was worth giving up the whole shebang.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cMust\u2019ve been one hell of a watch.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI wish. Cheap tin. Still lasted longer than Shiloh. But a horse\u2026 shoot, y\u2019oughta be on bedrest for a month afterwards.\u201d<\/p>\n

Charlie clapped a hand over her mouth to keep from laughing. \u201cYou shush! You\u2019re gonna get us thrown out. Anyway, Connor\u2019s already off at work. Took off with the marshal somewhere \u2013 some to-do at the Indian camp.\u201d<\/p>\n

Nell glanced at the open doorway. \u201cAwful early, ain\u2019t it?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHe\u2019s started winter hours: four to four every weekday now.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cStill bright out there. He gonna be all right?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cShould be. I made him take his spectacles.\u201d<\/p>\n

Nell could never understand why a silver magnate would bother holding down a regular job \u2013 let alone the ir<\/em>regular one of a nightwatch deputy. But then what other job could a man like Connor Franklin take, when he didn\u2019t dare go out in broad daylight?<\/p>\n

It was a weakness in the skin, Charlie had once explained. Some missing protein made him burn like a baby in the sun and laid him low with migraines. Nell didn\u2019t believe a word of it. She\u2019d heard the other rumors about the deputy: the strange lethargy when he ventured out on cloudy days, the persistent anemia requiring a diet heavy in red meat. Nell could think of only one explanation, and she suspected half the town would agree with her.<\/p>\n

She hoped she was wrong. Despite all his strange notions, Connor Franklin was a good man; she didn\u2019t like thinking of him as a diseased monster.<\/p>\n

But all the signs pointed to syphilis. What else could it be?<\/p>\n

~*~<\/p>\n

Connor Franklin paced along the neat row of graves, squinting against the brightness of the late afternoon. The disk of the sun had already disappeared behind the mountains, and angry blue sky was starting to soften with the dusty haze of the long Comstock twilight. Still, the ambient light was enough to make his eyes water behind the tinted glass of his spectacles. He kept his hat pulled down over his brow and did his best to walk in the marshal\u2019s shadow. Bill Crawford didn\u2019t seem to notice.<\/p>\n

The Paiute Indian camp lay some two miles south-west of Gold Hill, on the sloping valley called American Flat. The dome-shaped tents held some dozen households, all connected by blood or marriage, all bearing the peculiar surname Marsh.<\/p>\n

In the days before the Silver Rush, they had been a nomadic people, moving with the seasons, keeping one step ahead of the summer droughts and winter storms. Nowadays most of the Marshes preferred to do their hunting at the local grocer\u2019s. They traded in herbal remedies and day labor, and a few men even held steady jobs in town. Yet they remained a breed apart from the white settlers. It seemed only fitting that they would remain so in death.<\/p>\n

Bill\u2019s hand stole to his pocketwatch. It was the third time he\u2019d checked it since Connor had come on shift.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou looking to light out?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAh, the landlady\u2019s been on my case. I miss one more family dinner and I\u2019m on jail rations for a week.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cTsk.<\/em> Not two months and henpecked already.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWell now,\u201d Bill mumbled into his chest. \u201cThe kids like it when we\u2019re all together.\u201d<\/p>\n

He was trying for the old cantankerous growl, once second nature to him. Yet he couldn\u2019t entirely smother the note of pride in his voice. Connor had never heard a man so happy to be domesticated.<\/p>\n

\u201cHenry still calling you \u2018Marshal Crawfish\u2019?\u201d<\/p>\n

Now Bill beamed. It was no secret that he doted on his mistress\u2019s young son. \u201cHeck no,\u201d he said proudly. \u201cNow I\u2019m Uncle<\/em> Crawfish!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHe\u2019ll be after you to make his ma an honest woman, you wait and see.\u201d<\/p>\n

Connor didn\u2019t need to look at Bill to see that his face had gone red \u2013 he could smell the rush of blood to the skin, and hear the racing heartbeat in the marshal\u2019s chest.<\/p>\n

Bill cleared his throat loudly. \u201cWell now, much too soon to be fretting about that. There it is,\u201d he pointed out the last grave in the row. In place of a mound lay a shallow trench. The earth was freshly turned, exposing the broken layer of clay underneath the topsoil. An old Paiute man stood guard over the damage, thoughtfully puffing on his clay pipe. Connor was not surprised to see him. The Marsh tribe had no chief as such, but it valued its elders, and the gray-haired patriarch was the last of his kind. He\u2019d been a wiley youngster when the first miners had staked their claims to the Comstock and changed the Indians\u2019 world forever. No other Paiute had weathered the upheaval with quite the finesse and good humor of Captain Marsh.<\/p>\n

Bill hailed the old man with a wave. \u201cBrought him like you said.\u201d<\/p>\n

Connor smiled inwardly at that. \u201c\u2019Evening, Cap\u2019n.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIt is<\/em> an evening,\u201d the Indian agreed. \u201cA damn rotten one.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThat\u2019s why I left \u2018good\u2019 out of there.\u201d Connor knelt at the graveside and inspected the damage. \u201cSo what do we have? Animal?\u201d<\/p>\n

Captain Marsh stared into his pipebowl as he considered it. \u201cCould be. Could be. Your coyote, though, he usually prefers a fresher grave. He also don\u2019t tend to use a spade,\u201d he added archly, \u201cbut these are <\/em>modern times.\u201d<\/p>\n

Connor knelt down to better examine the site. The old man was right. Whatever had disturbed the grave had left very straight, even lines in the earth, like the scrape of a tool blade.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhose grave is it?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cFanny Rollins,\u201d Bill said. \u201cBen Marsh\u2019s wife.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cRollins? Like the dairy farmer?\u201d He\u2019d never heard of a white body buried in Paiute soil.<\/p>\n

\u201cHis sister.\u201d Bill made a discreet nod towards the mourners gathered beyond the boundary stones. Several Paiutes \u2013 the men in worn work clothes, the women in flounced calico \u2013 were all gathered protectively around a lone white man.<\/p>\n

\u201cDied back in the diphtheria outbreak,\u201d Bill explained. \u201cHer boys work at the dairy now.\u201d<\/p>\n

Connor \u00a0nodded thoughtfully. He had only a passing acquaintance with the Rollins family; American Flat was at the limit of his jurisdiction, and he had long since lost his taste for milk. But he\u2019d sometimes see the dairy cart making the rounds just before daybreak. The driver was always a young Indian, the milkman a tow-headed boy who would leap off at each stop to swap empty bottles for full.<\/p>\n

\u201cSo what are you thinking, Cap\u2019n? Vandals?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cMore like to be grave robbers. Seen enough in my day. The pea-brains hear tales of Indian chiefs buried with golden hordes \u2013 and nevermind that we<\/em> bury our folk with less frippery than your Christians.\u201d He turned and spat. \u201cPale-faced eejits! Still\u2026 I\u2019d rather they were after Fanny\u2019s old locket than anything else of hers.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat else would they want?\u201d Bill demanded.<\/p>\n

What\u2019s else is left?<\/em> Connor sifted a handful of soil though his fingers. A small yellow shard emerged from the dirt. Connor held it up to the light. \u201cThe bones?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cJesus Murphy!\u201d Bill snatched the fragment out of his hand. \u201cLeave the girl a bit of dignity, will you?\u201d<\/p>\n

Connor ignored him. Dignity was the purview of the living, not the dead. \u201cDo we know if any bones were taken?\u201d he asked Captain Marsh.<\/p>\n

\u201cCouple of pieces were scattered around. We put what we could find aside. The family wants to do a reburial later on. But we ain\u2019t about to dig Fanny out and count her ribs.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhy<\/em> on earth\u2013<\/em>\u201d Bill began in a roar. Heads at the boundary stones turned towards him, and he moderated his tone with visible effort. \u201cWhy would anyone want old bones?\u201d<\/p>\n

Connor shrugged. \u201cSell \u2019em? I dunno \u2013 aren\u2019t they mad for those Egyptian mummies in the right circles? Might be some rich folks fancy collecting Indian bones. And these graves don\u2019t have names on them. There\u2019d be no way of knowing this one belonged to a white gal. The man might have just picked the one furthest from the tents. Polish it up nicely, he could pass Fanny\u2019s skull off as Sitting Bull\u2019s.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThat\u2019s a bit of a stretch,\u201d Bill said.<\/p>\n

\u201cSurely is,\u201d Captain Marsh agreed. \u201cBut you\u2019d better hope that\u2019s all he wants them for.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat else could it be?\u201d<\/p>\n

The Captain took a long draw on his pipe. The smoke curled out through the gaps in his teeth as he spoke. \u201cCan\u2019t speak to your<\/em> folk. But there\u2019s only one thing my people use human bones for. And that\u2019s witchcraft.\u201d<\/p>\n

Connor stared at him blankly. Bill gave his deputy a wry smile and a pat on the shoulder. \u201cAnd that\u2019s the end of my shift. This one\u2019s all yours.\u201d<\/p>\n

~*~<\/p>\n

The sun had long set by the time Connor was satisfied with the state of Fanny\u2019s grave. He took a few witness statements, none of which offered any promising leads. He helped the men drape a heavy canvas over the grave and secure it with stones to keep scavengers at bay, until a proper reburial could be arranged. He swore Captain Marsh to secrecy regarding his witchcraft theory.<\/p>\n

\u201cNo call to be riling anyone up just yet. Let me try out a few other angles first.\u201d He knew a fence up in Virginia City who was likely to come across anyone dealing in grave goods.<\/p>\n

The marshal\u2019s office sat in the Gold Hill, just north of the main intersection. Connor smiled when he saw the paint horse tethered outside it. He had hoped his wife would join him at work again. After such a depressing start to the evening, he could use a pleasant diversion.<\/p>\n

He was prepared for the sight of her, perched on his desk with an air of casual entitlement. What he did not expect was the mouthwatering smell of warm batter and powdered sugar. It struck his heightened senses like a rush of nicotine.<\/p>\n

Charlie was working her way through a bag of bite-sized doughnuts, fresh from the fryer. Her lips and fingers were dusted in sugar, and she had untied her kerchief, baring her long, white throat. The candied aroma filling the air was a perfect compliment to her own distinct scent \u2013 sweet and heady as only a human\u2019s could be. It filled him with a hunger he could feel deep in his bones.<\/p>\n

Garou ran to the door, tail wagging and tongue lolling. Connor knelt down and caught him about the neck for a friendly wrestle. \u201cNo, I didn\u2019t bring you anything, so don\u2019t bother begging.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOh, he doesn\u2019t want food, just sympathy,\u201d Charlie explained. \u201cI\u2019ve been neglecting him for my fellow humans again.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHow are you liking Clem so far? I figured you\u2019d be out putting him through his paces.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI wanted to see you. How was it down at the Flat?\u201d<\/p>\n

Connor grimaced. \u201cGrave robbing in the Indian cemetery, if you can believe it.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOh, Connor!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNaw, it\u2019s all right. It used to happen a lot more often. But I\u2019d kinda hoped we were past that in this day and age.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou think you\u2019ll find who did it?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNot likely.\u201d He sighed as he shed his heavy coat and hat. \u201cStill, I\u2019d rather get called out for old bones than a fresh body. If this is the worst that happens tonight, I\u2019ll count my blessings.\u201d He flashed her a grateful smile. \u201cBut I\u2019m glad you\u2019re here.\u201d<\/p>\n

She returned his smile, but her brow was still knit in concern. \u201cNow I feel guilty. Here I had brought a treat for you\u2013\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOh, I could use a pick-me-up, believe me.\u201d He raised a quizzical eyebrow. \u201cBut you know I haven\u2019t been able to eat pastry for the last hundred-odd years.\u201d<\/p>\n

She was the picture of innocence, save for the wicked light dancing in her eyes. \u201cThe doughnuts? Oh no, they\u2019re for me. Brought you something else.\u201d She idly fingered her jacket collar, brushing a fine trail of sugar across her neck. The motion could not fail to draw his gaze to her pulsepoint, visibly thrumming just under her skin.<\/p>\n

The dull ache in his belly had suddenly become a burning need. The predator inside him was screaming for release. He forgot all about the business at American Flat. Nothing existed outside the room. Nothing mattered except the beautiful creature perched on his desk, and the memory of how her blood tasted on his tongue.<\/p>\n

\u201cDid you now?\u201d he drawled.<\/p>\n

She gave a tempting roll of her shoulders. \u201cYou were so nice, giving me Clem and all… seems the least I could do.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m on duty.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, if you\u2019re not interested\u2026\u201d she started to straighten her collar. Connor turned and locked the door.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou know, I\u2019m thinking I want to give you something else.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat\u2019s that?\u201d<\/p>\n

He parted his lips in a slow revenant\u2019s smile, baring his sharp canines. Charlie\u2019s pulse started to race; it sounded like a drumbeat in his ear. Her eyes darkened with the same feral intensity; her muscles tensed like a prey animal\u2019s poised for flight.<\/p>\n

\u201cA five second head-start,\u201d Connor breathed.<\/p>\n

Charlie launched herself from the edge of the desk with a cry of joy. She ran for the jailhouse door. Her hand was already on the knob when her five seconds expired.<\/p>\n

Connor crossed the floor of the office in three running strides. Charlie was barely inside the empty jail when he caught her.<\/p>\n

His arm came up around her, staggering her, lifting her off the ground. He swung her around and pinned her to the wall of the closest cell. Her hands braced against his shoulders; her breaths came fast and shallow. When she turned her face away the tendons of her neck strained against her skin.<\/p>\n

Connor sank his teeth into her throat, and the rush of scalding blood filling his mouth was almost as sweet as Charlie\u2019s moan of pleasure. Her arms wound tight about his shoulders, one hand pressed hard against the back of his head. He hitched her legs up around his hips as he ground her against the iron bars. He drank until he was almost senseless from the taste of her. He drank until he felt her racing heartbeat falter, until she shuddered under his month and cried out her release.<\/p>\n

One day, he wouldn\u2019t stop. One day, he would drain her dry.<\/p>\n

Want to read more? Buy The Wolf Charmer<\/em> on Amazon.com<\/a><\/strong><\/p>\n

\n

\u00a9 Jane Senese 2020<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

One Frank Maddock\u2019s GENUINE Indian Exhibition, read the flyer tacked to the wall of the Capital saloon. Featuring Wonders of the Natural World. Nell flicked at it idly as she waited. The show was still two days away, yet the poster was already fading in the Nevada sun. Full Color Stereoptical Scenes of America A Read More<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"parent":0,"menu_order":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","template":"","meta":{"spay_email":""},"_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/janesenese.com\/eots\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/116"}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/janesenese.com\/eots\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/janesenese.com\/eots\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/page"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/janesenese.com\/eots\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/janesenese.com\/eots\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=116"}],"version-history":[{"count":3,"href":"http:\/\/janesenese.com\/eots\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/116\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":119,"href":"http:\/\/janesenese.com\/eots\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/116\/revisions\/119"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/janesenese.com\/eots\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=116"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}