Matthew Corbett 03 - Mister Slaughter

unattractive Maude Lillehorne when his own lady was so comely.

'Told me Princess sees him three times a week,' Greathouse went on. 'Says she comes home in a sweat. Red-faced, and trembly. Can you imagine it?'

'No, I can't.'

'Won't tell Lillehorne why she goes. Just that that she needs him.' A savage little grin moved across Greathouse's mouth, which Matthew took to be a good sign. 'And listen the thing is ' He couldn't speak for awhile, until he'd recovered some strength and breath. 'There are four other wives. Seeing Mallory. For unknown reasons. He must be hell of a ram.' Greathouse shook his head, as much as he was able. 'Me I'd like to ram his wife.'

Greathouse then lapsed into silence, and the grin slowly faded. His eyes closed and Matthew thought he'd drifted to sleep, but then he said in a barely audible voice, 'God, I'm tired.'

'You're going to be all right,' Matthew told him. 'It'll take time, but at least you'll have another interesting story to tell.' And then he leaned closer to Greathouse's ear, and he said, 'I'm to blame for this.'

Greathouse said, 'What?' His eyes were still shut, his mouth slack.

'I've caused all this. I wanted to tell you, but I was afraid.'

'Afraid? Of what?' The voice was almost gone.

'Of what you'd think of me.' Matthew's heart was beating harder; even with Greathouse in this condition, it was difficult to get the words out. 'I've deceived you. When I went to the Chapel estate that day I found the tunnel I also found some money.'

'Money,' Greathouse whispered.

'Eighty pounds worth of gold coins, hidden in a lockbox made to pass as a book. The money is in my house, right now. It's enough more than enough to buy Zed's freedom. I didn't tell you, because ' The moment of truth had at long last arrived, and its fruit tasted bitter indeed. 'Because I wanted all of it,' he went on, his face as agonized as Greathouse's now was peaceful. 'I found it, and I thought it should be mine. Every last penny of it. When we turned off the pike, I should have told you. I wanted to, but I thought, maybe we could get Slaughter's money. I thought we could trick him as you said, and everything would be all right.

'I'm sorry,' Matthew said, 'that you have to pay for my mistake. I'm sorry that I didn't tell you. But listen to me, Hudson. I'm going after Slaughter, and I'm going to bring him back. Before God, I can't live knowing what I've let loose. Can you hear me, Hudson?' He clasped his friend's shoulder more tightly. 'Can you hear?'

'I hear,' said another voice.

Matthew turned around.

Behind him and just to one side stood Walker In Two Worlds.

They stared at each other for a moment, as the fire crackled and blue flames curled.

Walker held up his right hand, in which was gripped the silver watch.

'I like this.' His eyes were full of shadow. 'I'm sure it was very expensive, in your land.' He stepped forward and put the fingers of his left hand under Greathouse's nostrils. 'Still alive. I think he must be a very strong man.'

'Do they think he'll live?' Matthew motioned with a lift of his chin toward the two women, who stood watching from the far wall.

Walker spoke to them, and one answered. 'She says it's too early to tell, but it's a good sign that his soul has decided to stay in his body, at least for now.' He looked down upon Greathouse's placid face. 'Sleeping well, it seems to me. They gave him some strong medicine. He shouldn't wake again before tomorrow.'

'Can they give me something?' Matthew asked. 'For my hands and feet. Maybe also to keep me going.'

'They do medicine, not ' Walker probed his memory for the right word. 'Miracles,' he said. 'You need food and sleep.' He spoke once more to the women, and was answered again by the same one. 'She says they can put a poultice on your hands and feet and bind them up, yes, but it won't take away all the pain.'

'Just so I can walk.'

'You won't be doing any walking today. Better to let them work on you, and rest until morning.' He nodded toward Greathouse. 'Is this man your brother?'

'In a manner of speaking,' Matthew replied, 'I'd say he is.'

'But you betrayed him? And now you seek to make things right?'

Matthew didn't know how much of his confession Walker had heard, but obviously the Indian had caught some of it. 'Yes.'

'And the man called Slaughter? If I refuse to track him for you, will you still go?'

'I will. He's going to have a long headstart, but he has no shoes. The first thing he's going to do is try to get a pair of boots.' Matthew had already given this some thought. Would Slaughter try to get the wagon backed up on the road above Fort Laurens? It would be a hard job for one man. He might try to unharness the horses, but those old nags weren't going to hold a rider. Matthew recalled, with chilling clarity, Slaughter's comment to Reverend Burton: Looks to me as if we'd wear near the same size of boots. You wouldn't have another pair, would you?

Matthew thought that was going to be Slaughter's first destination, but where he would go after that was anyone's guess. Matthew could only hope that Slaughter took just the boots, and left Burton and Tom in one piece.

'You may never find him,' Walker said. 'You know that, don't you?'

'I know I'll never find him if I don't try.'

Walker stared into Matthew's eyes for a time, until Matthew uncomfortably felt as if the Indian was gauging the territory of his very soul. 'True enough,' said Walker. He spoke to the medicine sisters, who acknowledged him by going about business that involved pouring some of the contents-different kinds of tree bark and berries, it appeared to Matthew-from a few of the jars out into a bowl and then grinding the mixture with a pestle made from an animal's bone. 'Do you like fish?' Walker asked, and when Matthew nodded he said, 'Come on then, there's always some on the coals at ' He paused as he put together the correct translation. 'Happy River Turtle's house.'

As they progressed through the village, Matthew noted that most gave Walker a wide berth, and some averted their faces or clasped their hands over nose or mouth as if to avoid a bad smell. Women picked up children at their approach, and hurried away. A few braves motioned angrily at them, their attention directed specifically to Walker, but Walker paid no heed to his critics and actually laughed harshly in the face of one who came up close enough to spray them with spittle.

'Don't mind them,' Walker explained. 'This is a show they put on.'

Matthew had to ask the question, though he didn't know how to phrase it. So he simply asked it as best he could: 'How are you insane?'

Walker looked at the watch as they continued on, and rubbed its silver back with his palm. 'I know too much,' he answered.

Happy River Turtle indeed must have a fine reputation as a cook, Matthew thought, for there was a crowd around the longhouse he and Walker were approaching. There was an outside fire burning at the center of a communal eating area. It was almost a festive atmosphere, of people drinking from clay cups and hollowed-out gourds and taking from the fire roasted meat and fish on sharpened sticks. It shouldn't have surprised him, he mused, because it was time for the midday meal here just as in New York. He didn't see that any payment was being made for the culinary items, but maybe it was simply on the basis of share-and-share-alike, or that some system of bartering was happening beyond Matthew's understanding. In any case, Walker waded into the throng- which parted for him, and became more sullen until he had passed through-and then returned bearing a stick on which sizzled large chunks of charred white-fleshed fish along with pieces of tomato and peppers. Matthew reasoned they were to share the item, so there was enough to go around.

Matthew sat on the ground to eat the portion that Walker gave him, for his legs were giving out. He felt exhaustion coming upon him, slowly and steadily; it was a process he could not halt, no matter how steadfast his will. As he ate, he couldn't help but go over in his mind again and again the events of the morning. When he could tear his thoughts away from Greathouse's precarious situation and his concerns about Reverend Burton and Tom, he found himself pondering the trick safebox. How had Slaughter managed to rig such a thing? Some kind of explosive device had been concealed in it, yes, but how had the thing worked? And all the time Slaughter had been