Hell Come Sundown Read Free Page B

calling down the things from between worlds are drawn in salt; it saps their strength and binds them to the will of the conjurer.” Hell stepped forward and handed the loose end of the rope to Jake. “I reckon he’s yours, if he belongs to anyone. You’ll find having your own private fiend has its advantages. For one thing, they chase off bad luck, as well as snakes. You feed this bogey a tablespoon of salt a day and he’ll be yours until the oceans run dry and the mountains crumble. Provided you never take off the noose.”
    â€œWhat happens if it’s removed?” Hiram asked, eyeing the creature cautiously.
    â€œJust see that you don’t,” Hell replied gravely. “I don’t do refunds.”
    After a few minutes of haggling, it was decided that five dollars cash money and a spool of ribbon was fair pay for a night of ghost-breaking. Though the McKinneys offered to let Sam Hell and Pretty Woman spend the rest of the night in the barn, the pair politely declined.
    â€œIt is most kindly of y’all to extend such an invitation,” the Ranger said, touching the brim of his hat. “But the nature of our business demands that we be on our way long before sun-up.”
    As they rode off into the night, Hell turned to look one last time at the McKinney clan as they stood in the dooryard of their homestead. Hiram leaned on his shotgun as he waved goodbye, his free arm draped over his wife’s shoulders. Miriam McKinney stood close to her husband, occasionally casting worried looks in the direction of her son, who was busy poking the captive fiend in the rump with a sharp stick.
    After they rounded a bend in the road and were no longer within line of sight of the McKinney ranch, Sam reached inside his duster and retrieved a long, thin cigar shaped like a twig.
    â€œSee? I told you advertising in the back of penny dreadfuls would pay off,” he said, biting off the tip of the cigar with a set of very white, inhumanly sharp teeth.
    â€œI’ll grant you that,” Pretty Woman replied in perfect English. “But I do not see how it will help you find the one you seek.”
    â€œTexas is a big place. I could wander forever and a day and never find him. But if something spooky is happening, odds are he might be near at hand. Kind of like high winds and hailstones mean a twister’s nearby.”
    â€œThere is something to your way of thinking,” the medicine woman conceded. “But I still believe it was a waste of perfectly good money.”
    â€œI wouldn’t say that. After all—you got yourself a nice spool of ribbon out of the deal, didn’t you?”
    â€œThat thing could have torn me apart like fresh bread! That’s hardly worth a spool of ribbon.”
    â€œBut it didn’t, did it? And that ribbon should look real nice wrapped around your braids.”
    â€œPoint taken,” she replied with a smile. “Still, do you think it was wise telling them so much about yourself?”
    â€œI didn’t let on too much. There was plenty of Rangers that fought at Rio Grande City and Brownsville. Besides, they don’t know my real name. And there’s no Rangers headquarters left to contact anymore, even if they did decide to try and check up on me. As far as the state of Texas is concerned, Ranger Sam Yoakum is long dead.”

Chapter Three
    Texas, 1861:
    Sam Yoakum first signed on with the Texas Rangers back in ’58. Since then, he had fought more than his fair share of Comanche, Apache, Mexicans, cattle rustlers and outlaws, all for the grand sum of one dollar and twenty-five cents a day.
    Now that Texas had joined the Confederacy, Yoakum knew it was only a matter of time before the Governor would be forced to muster what was left of the Rangers into an army, despite very real concerns that Cortina and Juarez would use the war between the gringo states to their advantage and attempt to reclaim Brownsville and the