Gasher Creek Part 49

Hank dropped the book on the floor, pulled down his trousers, and started to p.i.s.s on it. Instinctively, Andy reached out to rescue it, but quickly withdrew his hands. He knew better than to interfere.

"There," Hank said, finis.h.i.+ng. "It just needed a man's opinion."

Laughing, he stomped out of the room, stumbled sideways into the hallway, and then headed for the stairs.

Andy shut the door and blew out his candle. He climbed back into bed.

His head throbbed. His chest ached. The air stunk of p.i.s.s. He started to cry.

Dead.

He wanted his pa dead.

He wanted him shot, cut into bits, and fed to hogs. He was sick of it; all those years of getting beat for nothing.

He found his screw token.

He held it in his fist.

After Hank pa.s.sed out, Andy left The Ram. Across the street, the livery gates were still open and a lantern glowed inside. It was late, but occasionally Cole would stay to give the stalls a thorough cleaning. That night, Andy was thankful for his diligence. He crossed the street and slipped inside.

"Cole?" he called.

"Who is it?" Cole said, emerging from a stall with his pitchfork. On the opposite side of the livery, Don leaned against the wall, flipping that bone handled knife of his.

"It's me," Andy said, squinting into the lantern light.

When he saw him, Cole nearly dropped his pitchfork. "What happened?" he asked.

He must've looked bad this time. Andy felt the tears coming but managed to hold them back. He said, "Sally doesn't want to hump because of her sc.r.a.p with Devlin."

"So he beat you," Cole said, shaking his head. "He beat on Jack as well?"

"I don't think so."

"Of course not. That son of a b.i.t.c.h."

Cole always got riled up when someone picked on Andy. When they were kids, Cole had a hard time learning his letters, so Andy helped him. In return, Cole became a loyal bulldog for Andy, beating down any fella that tried to make a fool out of him. Any fella except his pa.

"You are always getting the tar end of the stick," Don said. "Why don't you ever knock back? You some kind of coward?"

"Shut up, or leave my livery," Cole said to him.

"I meant no disrespect," Don said. "All I'm saying is he should give as good as he gets. We all know Hank can't move worth a d.a.m.n. Box his ears a little? He'll let you be."

"You go do that," Cole said. "You go beat on Hank Dupois and see how long it takes to swing from Hannigan's Tree."

Don folded his arms and kept quiet.

"I'm sorry for what he did to you," Cole said to Andy.

"I'll be all right," Andy said. "He doesn't hit as hard as he used to."

Cole shook his head. "Your pa is one lump of s.h.i.+t that needs shoveling. He robs the wh.o.r.es, he beats on you without cause, and I can't be seen with Liza lest I want my backside shot off."

"I want him gone," Andy said.

Don burst out laughing. "Gone!" he said. "That's a good one, Andy."

"Gone?" Cole said.

"You heard me."

Cole stared at him, but he wasn't laughing. "What do you propose?"

"Whiskey," Andy said.

"You gonna make him drink till he's dead?" Don said. "d.a.m.n Andy, I once saw your pa drink a whole jug of s.h.i.+ne and not bat an eye."

"No," Andy said. "I mean Whiskey, my dog."

"Ain't he dead?"

"Yes he is. And I know why."

"Of course you do," Don said. "Is there anything you don't know besides throwing a punch?"

"Tell me," Cole said.

"I found him beside the creek. When I cut him open, I found these small, green berries in his stomach."

"You cut him open?" Don said, wrinkling his nose.

Andy nodded. "I read about it and thought I'd give it a try."

"Did he choke?" Cole asked.

"No. I think the berries are poisonous. After I took them out, I placed them in a jar to observe them. They rot quickly, turning into a syrup of sorts. It gives off a powerful stench. In fact, it smells like a dead body."

"I never knew there were poison berries in the creek," Don said.

"Neither did I," Andy said.

"Nor I," Cole said, rubbing his bottom lip. "And if we didn't know about them, then a doc from Seaview might not either." He started pacing, the straw crunching beneath his boots. "It's an idea," he said. "But a dog ain't a man, especially a man the size of your pa. If it only made him sick, he'd get wrathy as h.e.l.l."

Andy hadn't considered that. He leaned against a stall door, suddenly exhausted. The skin around his right eye was swelling. He felt a strange clicking sensation in his chest every time he breathed. He needed to go home and rest. Maybe in the morning he'd see things differently. "You're right," he said. "It was a foolish thought. We would have to try it out on someone else first, and I'll not do that."

Don held his knife up to the lantern light. Admiring it, he said, "Well ... why not?"

Andy and Cole looked at him.

"Personally, I abhor violence in all its forms," Don continued. "But what's the difference between murdering your pa and someone else?"

"Killing someone who deserves it is not murder," Andy said.

"Why?" Don countered.

"Well-because-dang it, Don," Andy said, folding his arms. "It just isn't."

Don lowered his knife. "I guess you're right. It is a shame, though. You got yourself a house full of women with no kin."

"You're mad," Andy said to him.

Don shrugged. "Just jawing."

"He's right," Cole said. "A dead wh.o.r.e don't even raise an eyebrow in this town. All we'd have to do is find some rusher, get him drunk, and lay him with her. Then we cut her throat to hide the fact that she was poisoned. It could work, Andy."

It was a ghastly idea. Andy was surprised Cole would even entertain such a thought. "No," he said. "I'll not blame an innocent man for the killing."

"Fine," Cole said. "Then you go on back home so your pa can find you. Because you know it's gonna keep happening. He's never gonna stop beating on you."

"I can run away."

"Where to? You got no money. You don't know how to do anything but read your books. What would you do for work?"

Andy didn't have an answer for that.

"But if we did this," Cole said, "then you'd own The Ram, not to mention most of the land in town. The debts owed to your pa would pa.s.s on to you. You could read your books all day and never lift a finger."

"Who would run The Ram?"

"Delilah," Cole said. "She practically does now. h.e.l.l, she'd probably help us get rid of Hank if we made it worth her time."

"No," Andy said. "I'm no killer."

Don started laughing again. He snorted and held his sides.

"You find this funny?" Andy said.

"No," Don said. "Well, yes, I do, but that's not why I'm laughing."

"Then why are you laughing?" Cole asked.

"Because I'm smart," Don said. "I'm so smart, I should be mayor of this town. Say, do we even have a mayor?"

"Quit jawing and just speak," Andy said.

Don flicked the brim of his hat. "I know how to do it," he said. "How to get rid of your pa without the sheriff ever getting wise." He leaned off the wall and walked toward them, placing one foot directly in front of the other. "Finding the wh.o.r.e is easy," he said, raising his arms like a tightrope walker. "We can pick anyone out of that house and have her killed. Finding the man is the tricky part." He raised a leg and wobbled. "We'd need someone with a reason to kill a wh.o.r.e, a reason everyone in town witnessed. He'd also have to be a wind hugger, someone with no friends or kin to rise to his defense." He dropped his arms and looked at Cole. "Sound like anyone we know?"

Cole thought about it for a moment. Then he grinned.

"Yes sir," he said, looking like a devil with that pitchfork. "I believe it does."

Chapter Fifty.

Andy had stopped crying, but Tracker figured it was only because he'd run out of tears. His eyes were bloodshot, his face streaked and dirty.

"So you tried the poison on Sally," Tracker said.

Andy nodded. "She helped me and Liza carry Jack up to one of the bedrooms. Cole was in there, waiting for us. He threw her on the bed and made her drink. And then he ... did other things to her..."

He stopped talking.

"Did you know about the markings?" Tracker asked.

"No," Andy said. "Not until after Sally died. When we saw them, Cole whooped it up like he'd hit a vein in the Crow's Peak Hills. Now he could blame Jack for both murders. Problem was they were markings, not bruises. I knew they were likely to show up identical on my pa as well. That's where Delilah helped." He paused. "Cole was right about her. She jumped at the chance to do to my pa what he'd done to her for years. We offered her a fifty percent share of The Ram's profits if she kept her mouth shut about the bodies. Later, that included Jimmy."

"What was Don's involvement?"

"He agreed to help us spring Jack from jail. To keep him quiet about the murders, Cole promised him his plot of land."

"The church."

Andy nodded. "Cole hired some rushers to rough up Tickie, but when he didn't leave, Don torched it. He couldn't wait. He didn't care what he had to do to get it, even if that meant killing a preacher. I always knew Don was offish, but after Cole didn't come back, he smelled the opportunity to take his place. He started strutting around town like c.o.c.k of the walk. He demanded more from me, wanting free turns with the girls, free liquor at the bar. He said if I didn't, he'd turn me in. Once Liza left, I was the only one who could hang for the murders. Don knew this and s.n.a.t.c.hed at every crumb he could get."

"You say you didn't touch Sally?"

"No sir."

"What about your pa. Did you hand him the poisoned liquor?"

"Cole handed him the flask. I couldn't do it."

"What about the night Don came to kill me," Tracker said. "Was that your idea?"

"No," Andy said. "That was Don. He was tired of you sticking your nose in his business. That's what he called it-his business. He had his mind on running the town. First, he killed Delilah to get her fifty share of The Ram's profit. Then he went after you and the Doc. He knew you were getting closer to the truth."

"When you heard me enter The Ram," Tracker said, "you knew he'd failed. Why did you run?"

"You were coming to arrest me. I got scared."