But something was off. The sky above Three Stones was crowded with buzzards, but as their party slowed down upon descending a hill, Ned spotted a bird that must have fallen from the sky, not yet dead but still convulsing as life leaked out of its small body.

With the bright red horizon for backdrop, the strip of wooden buildings resembled a paper cut-out—an illusion rather than a real town. Unlike Boston or even a place like Beaver Springs, Three Stones would only remain here until the ore ran dry. That was what Ned would have believed until last night at least, because the nearer they were to their destination, the less certain he was of anything

Tom slowed down, his gaze focused on a wagon deserted by the road. Its bed was filled with wooden crates, and sun shone through a couple of bottles left on the driver’s seat, betraying that some were still filled with liquid. Cole nudged Thunder’s side and rode up to the vehicle to pick up one of them.

“Aren't those ou—?”

“Drop it!” Tom ordered, his arm like a king’s scepter. Cole didn’t bother to think on it and tossed the bottle back into the wagon, but silence befell every man in their party as the scream of buzzards flying in circles above Three Stones became more obvious.

There was death in the air.

“Nobody drink, or eat, or ingest anything in this goddamn town,” Tom ordered, rising both hands above his head, as if he believed himself capable of capturing the rising sun and smelting it into gold with all twelve of his fingers. “Kill anyone who still breathes. For Scotch!”

Cole beat Ned to the question rising in his throat. “What did you do?”

Zeb snarled. “That’s all you need to know!”

Craw’s eyes above the bandana were wide as saucers. “Is the air deadly too?”

Tom’s lips twisted into a smile, his thin moustache like a shadow in the early daylight. Instead of answering the question, he yelled, urging his horse into a gallop. Cole’s eyes met Ned’s, but he didn’t hesitate to follow his master’s lead into battle.

Ned stayed close behind him and was glad the dust gave him an excuse to cover his face, because while his mind still rejected the truth, his heart already knew what was to happen. When he spotted the first body, contorted and face down in the dirt, he didn’t even feel like he was in his own skin, instead watching from behind his own shoulder in growing horror.

The harsh morning light played tricks on him whenever buzzard shadows glided over dirt. From Tom’s warning not to drink, Ned got the point that poison was involved, but how much, and used on whom were questions that made the hairs on his nape bristle.

Silence sat on top of the town like heavy fog, dispersed here and there by a moan, cry, or screech. On any other morning, people would mill about, getting ready for work or dragging their feet out of the saloon. Now? The town was a corpse twitching due to maggots crawling in its flesh.

And one of the first victims he saw from up close was a boy in a sandwich board that covered him to the toes, like a lady’s dress. His little body lay on its side, with legs twisted in the dust, as if he’d still been kicking only moments back. His head weighed down a neck that was crooked beyond what seemed comfortable, but the blue tint to his complexion, and the wide-eyed look of dread betrayed that he was no longer suffering.

Corpses, and bodies of those close to being dead were everywhere—out in the street or draped on porches, as if they’d left their homes in search of help no one could provide. It was as if the angel of death had visited Three Stones overnight and took all the lives that offended his god.

Each life that offended Butcher Tom.

Words could not describe the hate burning in Ned’s heart.

Hadn’t they done enough? Destroyed enough lives?

Saul let out a yell and galloped to the little white church, his form dark on the pale background.

Death wouldn’t spare anyone today. Even the men of God weren’t safe.

Ned flinched when someone uttered a wheeze, but as he glanced toward an older man crawling toward them in red unmentionables, a sense of powerlessness tied him to Nugget’s back. Perhaps the living could still be saved with some charcoal to absorb the poison, but if he showed mercy to anyone here, he’d be signing his own death sentence.

And so, he watched Tom dismount his horse, approach the stranger in theatrically slow steps, and slit his throat with the cleaver in the middle of the street.

Tom looked up at his private army of outlaws and shook blood off his weapon. “Find any survivors and finish them off. If this town can’t respect us, it will fear us! Let this be a lesson to the whole West if need be. I will not tolerate the killing of my loyal friends. And if any man here isn’t willing to do the same, they can take their soft heart and try to run. But I do say try, because each of you has pledged loyalty till death. Look around you.” He swung the cleaver to point out their party. “These are the only men that matter to me. All else can go to hell as long as we have each other!”

Tags: K.A. Merikan Dig Two Graves M-M Romance
Source: readsnovelonline.net