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As he approached the duo, he noted the look on his brother’s face and knew whatever it was, wasn’t going to be pretty. They stood in an area that was a mass of scorched wilderness with a lingering trace of smoke still rising from the ashes. He glanced around and noticed the only people about were the volunteer town folks and his own ranch hands. At least, that was his initial impression.
However, as he drew nearer, the acute stench of torched skin assaulted his breathing causing him to realize that what he thought were tree logs, turned out to be human corpses. Prescott used the bandana around his neck to cover his mouth and nose while his eyes watered from the foul fumes. “This is the most barbaric thing I have ever seen.”
The constable glanced first at the younger brother before diverting his attention to the older one. “It looks like the fire started here.”
Wade’s brows came together in confusion. “What do you figure? The bodies were a human fire pit?”
In reply, the constable knelt down and raised the head of one of the corpses. From the general shape of the body, it was clear it was male. Its teeth and eyes glowed white against the charred flesh in a grim evidence of the horrified man’s state right before death.
“Were they alive when set on fire?”
“Yeah.” The constable agreed then laid the head of the dead man back on the pile of bodies. “The lucky ones.”
“The lucky ones?”
He nodded and stepped over to a separate group of remains. Wade headed in the same direction with Prescott following, handkerchief glued to his mouth. “This lot took the blunt of the attack. Ax to the back of the head. Execution style.”
“Christ.” Wade drove a hand through his hair.
“And all female,” the constable added.
A surge of anger flooded his veins, but years of controlling his emotions kept it under control.
“Indians?” Prescott asked under his handkerchief.
“More than likely.” Constable Stanford agreed.
Wade shook his head and swore once more. He never had any problems with the Indians in all the years he had ranched on his homestead. Though he heard of many ranchers and farmers that had. They weren’t the most civil people and had come to hate the white man for stealing land they felt was rightfully theirs. Wade had seen the same possessive anger consume a man only once before.
But the women? It didn’t make sense. He could tell the same thought crossed the constable’s mind.
“Let’s give them a proper burial,” he said.
“Right. I’ll get some of the ranch hands.” Prescott took the opportunity to scurry away from the revolting smell.
The constable waited until he was completely out of earshot. “I hear you have a new ranch hand.”
Wade frowned. “You heard right. What of it?”
“The rumor is he’s one of the mountain people.” The constable spoke with deliberation. “Possibly from this very village.”
He hesitated before slowly replying, “Afraid I couldn’t tell you. The boy’s a mute.”
“Is he now?” He looked somewhat surprised, but Wade felt the insincerity. “That’s mighty convenient.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“A strange boy shows up dirty and frightened the morning before a massacre sweeps out his entire village.”
“We’re not certain this was his village.” He didn’t like the direction of the lawman’s thoughts nor the fact he knew so much about the boy’s state when found at the ranch.
“True,” he conceded, however added, “But, say I was right, it sure would make my job easier knowing what that boy knows.”
“I’m afraid you’ll have to solve this one on your own Stanford.” Wade kept his gaze level as he spoke. “As I said, the boy’s a mute.”
“Still the same, if you don’t mind, I think I’ll have a little talk with him when we get back.”
Wade watched the constable wander off toward some of the huts and felt a rush of mixed feelings. Like the lawman, his first instinct was to blame the boy. However, realizing this man-made forest fire was the result of a village-wide massacre brought the realization this barbaric act was far beyond the boy’s capabilities. How he knew, he wasn’t certain. There was something in the boy’s eyes that spoke words he could not voice. Something that was laced with fear and ghastly memories.
