The Holy Death

Chapter 27

"Well, that's what we're here for, isn't it?"

Grace patted Scott on the shoulder, then sat back in her chair.

*

They stopped briefly just outside Reno so Dawn and Grace could get a bite to eat and use the facilities, then continued their journey south through Nevada on US 95. They noticed storm clouds building over the desert, flashes of lightning far off in the distance.

"That's not too good," Grace said, "These late Spring desert storms can bring heavy rains, high winds, and flash floods."

"You know your subject," Jack said.

"Well, we are pretty near my old stomping grounds."

"Grace," Scott told her, "You don't need to tell Jack anything!"

"Gee whiz, Scott," Jack whined, "I'm just makin' conversation, that's all. No need to bite my head off!"

"That's alright," Grace said, "It's okay, Scott. Yeah, Jack, I grew up in New Mexico."

"Oh, no shit? Where from?"

"Outside of Luis Lopez, a small community south of Socorro."

"Well, hell. This is a small world, now ain't it?"

Grace's lip wrinkled, as did her brow. "Oh, don't tell me you're from New Mexico too!"

"Not originally. I'm a Texas native, born and raised on a ranch outside of Abilene."

"That's a scary coincidence. I was also born and raised on a ranch. A small one, anyway. So, you spent some time in New Mexico?"

"Yeah. Oh yeah, back when I was mortal. My dad and I, we didn't see eye to eye. He was the head of the family, a very strict Baptist just like my granddaddy, who was a Baptist preacher and Texas patriot who survived the Goliad massacre and fought at San Jacinto. But me and my daddy, we never did get along. It was always, 'Jack, don't drink in my house!', or, 'Jack, don't you be gambling with my money!', or, 'Jack, do not lay with whores under my roof!' That got real fucking annoying. So, he sent me away. He thought I'd be better off working for a living. He was wrong about that, but what did he know. Anyway, he sent me to work with a former business partner of his who had a little spread right outside Roswell. And I swear, that sumbitch was worse than my daddy!"

"Wait a minute," Scott said, "A little spread outside Roswell? And just who was this 'sumbitch', huh, Jack?"

"Tough bastard by the name of John Chisum."

"Whoa, wait. You're telling me you worked for the John Chisum? The cattle king of New Mexico?"

"Yep, that's the one. Well, I did work for him, 'til he fired me. He accused me of stealing from him."

"And did you?" Dawn asked.

"Hell yes, but he couldn't prove it. Anyway, I drifted for a while, when one of my former coworkers introduced me to another rancher. The guy was a small timer, but he was pissing off the Santa Fe Ring something fierce. I had to admire the fella's gumption. Well, this guy, my new boss, he took me under his wing. Took a bunch of us drifters and aimless youths in. And he took care of us, real good care. I think he was the first man who ever really cared about me. Me, Jack Turner. Hell, after my ma died, my dad barely ever had a kind word for me. This man, he cared. He became a father figure to me."