VI

Well...I'm back. Caff braced his forearms on the fence circling the graveyard and bounced a lit cigarette between his lips. A desert wind blew in, warm and gentle, sending ripples through the gravegrass. In the night, the rustle of the ink-black blades had unsettled him. Beneath a bright blue sky it brought him peace. He pulled smoke into his lungs and held it, watching the gravediggers shovel spadefuls of gray graveyard earth from Ruby's small, sad plot. He pushed the smoke out through his nose. Nearby, Father LaGrasse stood, head bowed, over a wooden casket that held poor Ruby's earthly remains. Claudia stood next to him, offering her own silent prayers. The five of them were all that had gathered to see Ruby on. It didn't seem right, not to Caff. She'd been a working girl, sure, but she'd still been in this world. Now she was not. There was an emptiness there, in her shape, and it wasn't right that only five had come to mark that change.

That was how he saw it, at least. Maybe he was wrong, and just out of sight the whole town had gathered to send off one of their own. He wasn't about to hold his breath waiting. Probably unfair of him to think, but after that scene back in town he didn't feel like being fair. He should have done more than run Arnie off. Should have put him in a cell for a while, let him stew on what he did. It wouldn't have been enough, not nearly enough, but it would've been something. Would've been a consequence beyond a stern talking-to. Caff had stayed still, stayed silent, on account of just how much he wanted to give into that howling need for vengeance. It had scared him, how much he'd wanted to listen.

He supposed he overcorrected in the other direction, and he'd have to find a way to make that right. On top of everything else he had going on. The gravediggers, twin brothers, were making good time, now up to their waists in the plot. A small hill of pale gray earth grew near it, one spadeful at a time. He leaned against the fence as Ruby's grave deepened and lets his thoughts roam. He wondered if Ruby had any family, if anyone would miss her presence or mourn her passing. He wondered if she'd been alone when she died. If she hadn't been, he wondered who'd been with her and was keeping quiet about it. If she had, her killer would've been the last thing she saw in this life. He wondered if he should apologize to her soul, maybe she was watching from the hereafter, looking at him and herself wondering where he'd been when she needed him.

Claudia finished her quiet prayers and looked over to him. She smiled at him, a tiny thing meant to perhaps reassure him or herself. He couldn't find it in himself to smile back, so he nodded. She said a farewell to Father LaGrasse, receiving a touch to the arm in return, and made her way over. The fading pink outline of Arnie Leeds' hand gleamed as the afternoon sun hit it. Guilt and shame rose anew at the sight, made even worse by the concerned look she gave to him. “You all right?” she asked.

He grunted. “I'm okay. What about you?”

“Me?” She tried to smile again, lifting a hand to wave his concern away. The motion turned into her touching her fingertips to her cheek. Her attempt at a smile died and she wrapped her arms around herself. “I–I suppose I'm coping, if that makes sense.”

The cherry between his lips glowed as he pulled smoke into his lungs. As he pushed it out his nose, he nodded, saying, “Been a strange and terrible day.”

She snorted humorlessly. “Ain't that the damn truth.” she agreed. He tapped the ash from his cigarette and left it to dangle between his fingers. He cut his eyes at her, which she saw, and pointed a finger at him. “Don't you get on my case about my language, Addison.”

“Wouldn't ever.” he said solemnly. She rolled her eyes at him.

“You so would,” she countered, and for a moment he saw a real flicker of humor in the line of her mouth, a mirror to what he felt tugging at his own. Then she sighed as she looked out over the graveyard, over the ancient mesquite tree at the hilltop, over Ruby's small, lonely casket. “Do you think she's at peace?” she asked. “Even after everything that happened?”

He didn't answer right away. What he wanted to say was that of course Ruby's soul had found peace in the hereafter. That after everything she'd suffered, now she suffered no more. He wanted to say it because he hoped it was true. He didn't say it because he was afraid it wasn't. He could only shrug helplessly and say, “I don't know. I hope so.”

Claudia nodded at his words, as if they confirmed some suspicion she held. There was quiet between them for a moment, the pair of them watching the gravdigger twins shovel deeper into the pale, gray, graveyard earth. Father LaGrasse had finished his prayer and seemed content to oversee their efforts. “I never heard her talk about family,” Claudia said, breaking the silence. “I'm not sure she had any.”

Caff hummed. He didn't know what to say. It didn't matter to him, whether or not she had family. They weren't here. They hadn't been. Was it the hooking? If anything would drive family away from a daughter, it'd be that. He thought Jennie had probably been right about how O'Neil and others had seen her. How they saw her still. He tossed the cigarette butt to the ground, ground it out, and made up his mind. “We'll stand for them, then. See her on ourselves.” he declared. If there was no one else, it'd be him. Him and, from the look of approval in her eye, Claudia. He hauled himself over the fence and joined her in walking over. Father LaGrasse gave them a gentle smile and a nod, and the three of them waited for the gravedigger twins to finish their task.

Soon, they did just that. First tossing their shovels, then hauling themselves out of the freshly dug grave. They pulled coils of rope from around their chests and looped them around the head and foot of Ruby's casket. At Father LaGrasse's nod, they lifted her and lowered her down to her final rest. The small, lonely sight made Caff's heart ache in a way he couldn't name. The muted thump as the casket touched the ground sounded quiet to his ears. The twins pulled free their ropes, took up their shovels, and retreated a short distance. Father LaGrasse gathered a handful of gray, graveyard earth and let it fall atop Ruby's casket.

Caff again wondered if he should apologize. Ruby's safety, her life, had been his responsibility. He had failed to rise up to that, and the result was in the ground in front of him. He suspected this would stay with him forever. His handful of earth joined the Father's. As he returned to his sister's side he saw her shoulders trembled, her throat working as she fought to hold in a sob. He felt selfish, making this about him. She had known Ruby better than he. Friends, by her estimation. His shame didn't hold much of a candle to her loss. She allowed him to draw her into his side with an arm around her shoulders as she covered her mouth with her hands and began to cry. Well...his eyes stung...someone misses you, Ruby. So you have that, at least.

- - -

After seeing Claudia back to her house, Caff returned to the Jail. He felt that for the first time today he could put up his feet and maybe, just maybe, get some rest. He'd pushed his chair back against the wall and done just that. It wouldn't be much rest, seeing as it was now late afternoon, but he'd take every second he could get. With Jennie out somewhere he had the place to himself. There would likely not be a better opportunity to close his eyes. It wouldn't be for long, he promised himself, just an hour or two. Enough to make it feel less like the sky was pushing down on him. He let his eyes close and leaned his head back, letting it rest against the wall. Sleep lulled at him, drifting him down as the waking world began to fade away. He idled at the edge of it, drowsy thoughts coming to him slow and gentle.

Maybe after he woke, he could head over to O'Neil's and get himself a hot dinner. Honey-glazed chicken, slow-roasted for hours. Vegetables cooked in the drippings. Hot, fresh cornbread, falling apart and steaming under a fork, waiting for a pat of butter to melt. Potatoes, mashed, drizzled in gravy. Beer to drink. Not a day that called for liquor. For desert, he was thinking a pie. Cherry, or maybe blackberry. That would do for him. That would do well for him. Then finally, he'd go home and sleep. In a bed. He could hardly wait.

A horse's whinny opened his eyes.

How long was it? He scrubbed the ache away from his eyes with the back of his hand and checked the window. Still daylight, so it couldn't have been too long. It hadn't helped, either. He felt worse, if anything. His whole body ached, from head to toe. He both wanted to move and dreaded the idea of it. He found the energy to bring his legs down off his desk and plant his feet on the floor. It helped a little. He shook his head in an effort to clear it of the wool it had conspired to stuff itself with while he slept. A long, low groan escaped him. It would have been better to stay awake, he decided, and huffed a laugh at himself. Spend the whole day wishing for sleep, and now that he's gotten some he wished he hadn't done.

“Sheriff!” a man's voice called, only somewhat muffled by the Jail's closed front door. It struck him as familiar, one he'd heard before, but his woolen mind didn't allow him to place its owner. “Sheriff Caffey! Need to talk to you!”

Caff placed a hand on his desk and levered himself to his feet. His body protested every, single second of it. After a moment's wobbling from some light-headedness, he found his footing. His gun belt hung on a wooden peg set into the wall near the front door. He eyed it as he made his way and wondered if he should take the time to put it on when someone was calling for him. The man didn't sound scared. He sounded loud, more than anything. Caff decided to wear it, taking the time make sure it rode his hips properly. That done, he pulled the Jail door open and stepped out onto the stoop.

Two riders were out front, their horses lathered with sweat. The horses were both branded with a circled T, placing both animal and man with one letter. Artemus Talmadge ran a horse ranch twelve miles west of town, up in the chaparral hills. The first rider, on a dun gray mare, kept the reins balled in one fist while the other grasped a handful of a large burlap sack draped over his mare's hindquarters. He nodded to Caff but otherwise kept his place and his peace. The second rider's pale brown mare shifted underneath him, spooked by something, forcing him to trot her in a circle before coming back. The rider's face was as familiar as his voice. Caff knew him, he did. He just couldn't marshal his thoughts enough to recognize him. “Ah,” the man declared, “there ya are, Sheriff.”

“Here I am,” Caff agreed, nodding. He folded his arms and regarded the pair. “what's this about?”

“Your missing killer,” declared the man.

Caff's brow rose. “Go on.”

The man removed his hat and held it against his chest, saying, “Well, when word reached Mister Talmadge of that poor girl's death, why, he put us all on the task of helping in any way we could. Had us combing every square inch of the acreage!”

Caff grunted. He caught a flicker of something from the corner of his eye; that just for a moment, it looked like that sack hanging from that gray mare's hind end had moved. He looked away from the man, who he swore he knew, to fix his eyes directly on it. There was something odd about this. “Neighbourly of him,” he said, looking back to the man. His name started with an R, Caff thought. Russell, maybe. Roscoe.

“Indeed, Sheriff, indeed. Imagine our shock, our surprise when we discovered this – this creature feasting on one of our foals!”

Elijah. Something heavy and leaden settled into Caff's gut. They found him. He cleared his throat. “Killed your foal, this creature?”

“Oh, yes,” the man nodded. “Tore his belly wide open and was gnawing on the poor animal's liver when we rode up.”

That leaden, heavy thing turned ice-cold. Steel-cold. His eyes traveled back to the sack, like they were drawn to it. If he were to take this man – Rupert! Rupert Wagner! – at his word, then it was looking more likely than not Elijah was Ruby's killer. He gestured to the sack and said, “I take it you brought this...creature to me.”

“We did,” Rupert agreed. He dismounted the brown mare and handed her reins to his partner as he walked round to shove the sack off the second horse's hindquarters. It hit the ground with a thud and sent up little curls of dust with its impact. Dread rushed through Caff's veins when he saw the sack move and groan. “led us on a mighty chase, it did, but we ran it down. Sheriff,” he muscled the sack upright and pulled free the woven twine holding it closed. “I give you your killer, courtesy of Mister Artemus Talmadge.”

He let the sack fall.

There, laying on the ground, surrounded by the burlap that had once contained him, was a man. His clothes had at one point been fancy – a waistcoat and fine collared shirt and cufflinks – but were now worn and old. He didn't look like the sort of creature that would tear the liver from a person or horse and feast on it. Caff descended the Jail's steps to get a closer look and saw the blood, drying brown and tacky, on the man's hands. He saw it stain the sleeves of the man's shirt and saw it gather in the unkempt snarl of his beard. The man looked up at Caff, and revealed his eyes; their pale nature and the way they reflected light like a cat's.

This was no man. Though Caff had never seen him before, did not even know what he looked like, there was no doubt whatsoever that this creature was Elijah.

Caff wanted to seize the vampire by the neck of his fancy shirt and haul him to his feet, only so he could lay him out with his fist. He wanted to hurt Elijah until he told why he killed Ruby. He wanted to flee from those unnatural eyes, the way they had yet to blink and were just a hair too large. He wanted to call back that group from earlier, to point them at Elijah and let them loose. For a moment he let those desires race through him. Just a moment. Then he crouched, looked Elijah in the eye, and said, “I'm placing you under arrest for the murder of Ruby Pendleton.”