The Daughter, C.B. Cooper [great reads .TXT] 📗

decided it was best to just play along. If she wanted to change her name for the time being, it wasn’t a big deal to him. He figured, in a weird way, it would protect Gracie’s innocence in the end. After it was all over, it would help her to go back to normal, or, as close to normal as she could get after the hell she’d been through. Gracie wouldn’t have killed anybody, Angel would have. Is that what she was doing? Creating her own scapegoat?
“The men your after will probably be changing their names too. Sheriff Kendle sent their names to the federal government, its only a matter of time before they see their own likenesses on a wanted poster.”
Sharp watched as her eyebrows knitted together, she wasn’t happy about this new revelation, it would make it harder to find the men once they went into hiding.
Finally, she shrugged, “The country where their headed is pretty sparsely populated, it still shouldn’t take much to find them, even if they do change their names.”
Incredabily, he asked, “You know where their heading?”
She grinned evilly at him over the orange dancing flames of the fire, “Russ Conner’s decided to spill the beans, right before he spilled his guts.” shaking her head, “That one certainly didn’t die well for how tough he thought he was. Nope, he died crying like the coward he really was, pissed in his pants and everything.” she sighed, reveling in the memory, “I guess it’s hard to brave when your puking up your own guts.”
She didn’t just kill those men out of retribution, she killed them slowly, painfully… and she thoroughly enjoyed it. He could see it in the way her eyes lit up, and for the first time, she became animated. Every second of their agony had brought her extreme pleasure, that knowledge was a little shocking for Sharp. Usually when you killed for revenge it brought a sense of justice and satisfaction, but it seemed to him that she got more from it. Like a perverse sense of blissful ecstasy. Interesting, he thought.
She was staring off into space, her lips curled into a small smile.
He cleared his throat to draw back her attention, then asked, “So, where are they headed?”
She frowned slightly at the interruption, “Nathan Adams is going up to the Oregon territory, and Joe Jarvis is headed to Idaho. From what Conner’s told me, their both going to build towns.” she snorted. “They think their going to be kings of their own empires. Kings? Can you imagine?” she laughed errily, then sighed, “It will be fun knocking them off of their thrones though.”
She grew somber again as she watched the flames flicker. When she spoke, it was low, as if she was talking more to herself, than to him, “When they hear I’m coming for them, they’ll both hire a small army to protect them, if they haven’t already. But that won’t matter, a hundred men wouldn’t be able to stop me. But I do want them to feel safe, like nothing in the world can touch them. I want to see the look on their faces when they realize it was all for nothing, that there was no where they could of ran or hid, that I wouldn’t have found them. Then I want to see the fear in their eyes as they realize their going to die”
“How will they know your coming?” he whispered, already fearing the answer.
“Because a little birdy’s going to tell them.”
The more Sharp listened to her talk, the more he believed that she was probably insane. She wasn’t just being foolish, she’d gone and tipped the rocker.
That was just great. It was going to be hard before, now it was probably impossible. In her state of mind, he could picture her just walking into a death trap, indifferent to the danger, solely focused on their death, and not her own. She was going to be killed, and he would be right beside her. But still, they had quite a ways to travel before reaching the Northwest territories, a lot of miles to convince her to be reasonable.
“Well, we’ll get started on your suicide mission in the morning, then.”
“There is no we, Reverend. I go it alone, and that’s final.”
“Listen Gracie… er Angel, you need my help, whether you want it or not. I’ve been following you, so damnit, just admit that your lost. Did you know you were surrounded by Indians last night? I don’t know what kept them from killing you, but, you lucked out on that one. You might not be as lucky next time.”
Throwing a hunk of dried mesquite on the fire, she chortled, “Of course I knew they were there. I was ready for them, but in the end, they decided that they didn’t want to play. And no, I’m not lost. Like I said, I’ve been waiting for you to catch up,” her eyes shone bright in the fire light, “You would have been here a long time ago, if you hadn’t stopped to clean up my mess back there. I don’t have time for such niceties, Reverend, I’m on a mission. Those men deserved to lay there and rot, but you wouldn’t leave it. Did your conscience get the best of you, Reverend? Because I don’t need that. I must say, I was surprised to see that you burned them, instead of burying them. Too much work for one man?”
Sharp half smiled, “No, it wasn’t my conscience that made me do it, and I wasn’t being lazy. I had to burn them. Every scavenger within a ten mile radius was been poisoned by their meat, and if I would of buried them, they would of eventually leaked into the creek, poisoning that as well.”
“Oh, I see. That still doesn’t change anything though. I’m doing this on my own, without your help.”
“No, your not. I know you want Adam’s and Jarvis, and when the time comes, I promise, they’ll be all yours. But this is a tough country and your gonna need some help crossing it. So, will you let me help you?”
She thought on it a moment. “I can manage on my own, Reverend. Like I said, I don’t want you involved. When I find these men, I don’t aim to preach them the bible, I’m going to kill them, and there’s nothing you can do to stop me.”
“You think I want to stop you?” he asked incredibly. “You’ve got this all wrong, my dear. I want to help you. I don’t plan on preaching to them either. Them bastards got what’s coming to them, for what they done to you, and for what they done to Ben. I want to see them dead as much as you do.”
She eyed him cautiously, her eyes lingering on his neck, “Where’s your collar, Reverend?”
An obvious question, but one that he found hard to answer.
She’d thought of him as nothing but a man of the cloth since they’d met. How many times had they sat around the fireplace at night after supper and read from the bible? They would discuss passages and he would answer her questions about Jesus and His teachings. Never once, in all the years he’d known her, had he ever mentioned his past. Or the reason he hid behind the bible, using it to shield himself from the nightmares of his past.
Would she ever believe he was once a murderer? That he alone had led a march to slaughter a whole village of innocent men, women and children? And that those memories haunted his every waking minute, and invaded his dreams at night, making sure he wasn’t allowed a single moments peace. That the sounds of their screams followed him into the depths of every bottle he drank, while trying to wash them away? It was only until he was at his lowest point, the bottom of the barrel, there, in the black depths of despair, that he had found God. Or, rather, God had found him.

Sharp had awoken from one of his numerous drunken stupors, laying in a puddle of his own vomit, in the back alley of some little nameless town in eastern Texas. Dragging himself to his knees, he had noticed a book laying beside him. It was the bible. Picking it up, he had carried it with him back to the room he had rented the previous night, laid it on the bedside table, and abruptly passed out again.
When he had woken up again, it was laying on his pillow, under his cheek. Rolling over, onto his back, he opened the front cover and read the inscription through whiskey blurred eyes. It had said, Sam, Look unto me.
That was it, that was all it said.
He had tried to forget about the book, surely it wasn’t meant for him. Someone named Sam had obviously dropped it in the alley. It was just a coincidence that he had passed out by it. It was silly to think that God had just came down and gave him the bible, but he couldn’t bring himself to leave it behind when he left town. He carried it in his saddle bags for months, refusing to look at it, but unwilling to toss it away either. He thought about it night and day, his thoughts were constantly drawn to it like a magnet, until finally, he picked it up one day and started reading it.
Just a little bit at first. A few lines a night around the campfire couldn’t hurt. Besides, it gave him something to do, something to take his mind off of the impending nightmares that visited him night after night.
But, as the weeks wore on, he noticed his nightmares were becoming more and more infrequent, and less intense. Until one night, they had stopped altogether.

Angel had been watching the emotions as they played across his face, “Looks like I’m not the only one who’s fallen from Grace, Reverend.” She reached behind her and drug her pack to her side, digging through the contents she came up with two tin cups.
“Coffee?”
He nodded and watched as she poured them each a cup from the fire blackened pot. Handing him the pungent brew she went on to say, “It’s a little tame for people like us, but it’s the strongest thing I got on me right now.”
Taking the cup, he took a tentative sip, “People like us?”
“Killers, murderers.” Seeing the surprised look on his face, she continued. “Don’t look so shocked, Reverend. You don’t think I can recognize one of my own kind?”
Closing her eyes, she tipped her head to the side and inhaled deeply. “I can smell it on you, reverend. Just like I can see it burning in your eyes, It festers in your heart like a rotting sore.”
Opening her eyes, she leaned forward and whispered in a conspiratorial tone, “You know, your dirty little secret.” Laughing softly at his arched eyebrows and shocked expression, she continued, “I’m surprised you were able to hide it from so many people, Gracie included. It just goes to show how stupid people can be. All they ever seen was your pristine white collar, and must have assumed that you had a soul to match.” Shaking her head, she sighed, “Like lambs led to the slaughter. Drink up Reverend, your coffee’s getting cold.”
He put the cup to his lips and took a drink, while he watched her over the rim, take a drink of her own. She was a mystery. Besides the fact that she changed her name, and was talking like a crazy person, there was something about her that he just couldn’t put