The girl gestured, pointed. “To my car.”
“How far?”
“Right down that alley. Now, where is it you need to go, cowboy?”
Matt paused to wipe sweat from his brow. “What is the fastest way to get back to the Kearns ranch? I’d appreciate a lift, but no need to take me all the way.”
Sally stopped, and her boots thumped on the wooden slats. A trickle of sweat ran down the sweet crevice between her full breasts. Matt tried not to follow it with his eyes, looking up, busying himself with adjusting the ax and pack. A dust devil twirled by behind her sunburned shoulder.
“Sure,” Sally said. “But answer me this: Why the hell would you want to go back out there?”
Matt shrugged. “Why not?”
“You really want to know? Because Zeke and Hog work on the spread right next to Kearns.”
“Oh.”
“Look, those two are bad enough, but there are also some new strangers out that way. Four guys that showed up crack of dawn this morning.”
“So?”
“So they are damned spooky. They came in for breakfast and they were armed to the teeth. Looking for someone, I’d expect. They’re so mean, they make Zeke and Hog nervous.”
Matt frowned. She had his attention. “What did they look like?”
“Desperados, with buzz-cut hair and a shitload of muscles. Their leader, Scotty, was cute, but he has Zeke’s kind of eyes, like a predator who gets off on the suffering of others. Know what I mean?”
“I think so.” Matt felt his pulse twitch. He had no reason to believe this had anything to do with him, but still…He shifted his pack, ax, and bedroll to the opposite shoulder. “These men-did they actually hurt anybody?”
She shook her head. “Not yet. No, nothing bad happened, but they made sure we all got the feeling something might if we don’t behave. I think they wanted us to know that, to feel spooked. They are up to something.”
“Do folks spook easily around here?”
“They are my friends and like family,” she said, “but they all live in fear. They’d back down from a dog with a hard-on. That sort of mind-set tends to encourage bad guys, if you know what I mean.”
“Yes, Sally,” Matt Cahill said with a laugh. “I know what you mean.” He wiped his forehead. “Did anyone try to stand up to them?”
“Sheriff Pickens walked up and had a talk with the one called Scotty, but as you know, our sheriff’s getting on in years. Those teenage kids keep him young since his wife died, but hell, his chest dropped into his gut when Bill Clinton was president. Put it this way-these guys were professionals. They didn’t seem too intimidated.”
The passed the closed movie theater and Matt peeked inside. The furniture was covered with blankets and drop cloths, and the John Wayne posters on the wall were decades old. What an interesting old town.
“Sally, I still don’t see why that has anything to do with me just revisiting the Kearns place.”
“And I still don’t see why you’d want to go back there.”
He couldn’t tell her about the Dark Man. Kearns had likely just been raving from drugs. Still, Matt had to follow anything that looked like a valid lead. Maybe it would come to nothing. Perhaps the man was just another crazed redneck cooking speed in a shack who’d imagined the whole thing. Still, just in case, Matt needed to get this thing over with. He had to find and stop the Dark Man. And hopefully return to the life he once had.
But he didn’t tell her that. What he said was: “I want to talk with him about living alone in the desert.”
“You writing a book or something?”
“Or something,” he said. “Look, thanks for the concern, but I can take care of myself.”
Sally sighed. “I figured that part out.”
A bald head appeared in the window of a storefront. They both jumped. “Jesus, Bert. You scared me half to death.”
Matt saw that the bald man was wearing a white apron stained with blood and juices of some kind. The sign outside said he was a grocer. Bert had a large, red-veined nose and a twitch under one eye.
“Howdy, mister,” Bert said. “Thanks for what you did for Suzie Pickens. Whole town is buzzing about it.” His curious eyes gave him away as desperate for human contact and maybe a bit of gossip.
“Howdy.” Matt again opted to avoid introducing himself. Sally hadn’t made the connection, but even way out here in the Nevada desert some folks watched television. Sooner or later someone would recognize Matt Cahill, a man briefly famous for having returned to life after being buried under an avalanche for three months. Stories like that had a way of getting around, and Matt didn’t want to answer any more questions. He wanted answers…like how he’d survived, why he could now see evil in others as a physical rot, and how he could stop the horrific Mr. Dark, a man who could spread that evil with a touch.
“Sally! Wait up.”
Matt turned. The young redheaded man from the saloon jogged to catch them, then slowed to a walk. Like so many other men in this part of the country, Kyle had the rawboned look and worn hands of someone who kept his own cars running. Meanwhile, Bert the grocer seemed to remember something and popped his head back inside the darkened store. Kyle came closer, stopped a few feet away. Matt could sense how possessive he felt, but the ego-driven part was well tempered by a genuine concern for Sally.
“I’m Kyle. I just wanted to say thank you, mister. Those two are mean as a pair of badgers.”
Matt lowered his pack and bedroll, extended his hand. “You’re welcome.”
The two men shook. Matt could see that Kyle wanted to stay, to keep a sharp eye on Sally. Matt couldn’t blame him. She had to be the best-looking female for a couple of hundred miles in any direction. Instead, Kyle said, “You’ve made quite an impression on Dry Wells in one morning.”
As if he weren’t there, Sally said, “Like I said, I’ll drive you about halfway back. After that you’ll have to hitch a ride from the highway. Best take a big bottle of water with you. The roads aren’t exactly jammed up around here. I’ve got some in the car. See you later on, Kyle.”
Knowing he was beaten, Kyle stuffed his hands into the pockets of his jeans and backed away with a forced smile. He turned his back and walked off. Matt cocked his head at the girl.
“Wow. Now, that was subtle.”
“Come on,” Sally said. “My car is around the corner past the jail.”
As if on cue, the sheriff appeared in the doorway of his office.
Sally greeted him warmly. “Sheriff Pickens.”
“You on your way already, son?”
“Yeah, need to get moving.”
“Matt, I owe you big,” the sheriff said. “Whole town does. You ever need anything, anything at all…” Behind him in the gloom, Matt could just make out the antique bars of a jail cell and a desk cluttered with papers. He saw a couple of hunting rifles anchored by a long rack on the wall. Matt nodded.
“Tell the kids I said good-bye.”
“I will.”
They shook hands and Matt resumed walking.
As if sensing something out of place, Sheriff Pickens called out after them. “Hey, you all right there, son?”
Matt just waved his right hand without looking back. His mind was on the strangers Sally had mentioned. Matt knew he didn’t particularly want to meet them. Still, he had to investigate what the miner Kearns had said about a dark man in the desert. Matt was worried, as the sheriff had sensed, but Sally didn’t seem to notice anything. She led him down an alley that ran behind the one active street in this part of the ghost town. Two feral cats watched Matt go by, one black and one white. Their eyes seemed to be glowing, as if they were spying for the Dark Man.
Although the air cooled as the shadows took over, the smell of feces and dead animals was still oppressive in the stifling heat. At the end of the alley, they entered a small area with cracked pavement, where Matt saw a beat-up old white Toyota with a black replacement hood. The backseat was littered with junk-food bags and piled-up clothes ready for the washing machine. The car was facing another opening, out to the highway. Wind caressed them and the air became fresh and clean.