ghosts, shadows cast by ruined walls built by civilizations long vanished into dust.
He studied the clouds as wind brushed the mesquites. With a sigh he straightened his shoulders. She had come back, bringing darkness in her wake, just as she had long before. His fingers dug into the dirt as the coyotes raised their unearthly lament to echo off the high cliffs.
He turned away.
Veiled in the changing light, he began a chant older than the ruined walls above him, raising the sound to the sky until power rang through his chest. He could challengeor assist, control or deceive. A new millennium had come, but he knew that men's hearts did not change. Greed, envy, and fear walked just as they had centuries before.
Those who lived here spoke often of history and legend. Now they were about to learn that legends always had their cost.
“What do you mean the money isn't
there!
What kind of game are you playing?”
“It's not there. I'm looking at my account right now, dammit. Your last eight deposits are missing!”
“That's impossible.” He had coded them himself.
“Tell that to the man who's flying in tonight from Seattle.”
“That's not necessary,” he replied in a deadly cold voice. “We'll find the problem and take care of it from our end. We always do.”
“Damn straight, we'll find the problem. But if you'd like to stay alive, you'll find it for us first.”
Hie phone clicked off.
He stared at the receiver.
He hadn't made a mistake. Had he?
S heriff Jackson McCall was almost asleep.
His chair was cocked to forty-five degrees against a split-rail fence in front of the sheriffs office.
“T.J., you there?”
The tall cowboy, known as TJ. to his friends, scowled and shoved his Stetson lower on his head. He'd been up most of the prior twenty-four hours running down stray stock from a neighboring ranch and he wasn't overly pleased to be roused from a colorful dream involving palm trees, cool water, and a dozen nearly naked women in red sarongs.
His handset buzzed again. “T.J., I know you're there, and I know this blamed radio works, so you'd better answer me.”
The sheriff of Almost, Arizona, didn't move a muscle beneath his battered Stetson. “What is it, Grady? Another hitchhiker with a sign warning us the world has ended?”
“Hell, no. That was last month. This is a whole lot better.”
“I'm sleeping, Grady. You're on duty now. Call me when the mother ship enters final approach. Until then I've got a hot date with a lady in a red sarong.”
Grady chuckled. “You're making a big mistake, boy.”
“Mistake's my middle name.” T.J. eased his broad shoulders back against the chair. His eyes were closed and he was already halfway back into what was becoming a very inventive fantasy.
Lately it seemed as if fantasies were all the sheriff had time for.
“Dammit, T.J., you git yourself off that chair right now. It's a woman I'm calling you about, hear?”
Sighing, McCall shoved back his hat and squinted down the quiet street. Then he rocked his chair flat and stood up slowly.
A powder-blue Mercedes convertible stood angled before the General Mercantile, one wheel hitched over the dusty curb. The other was flattening a crate that appeared to be filled with peaches. Or what had
been
peaches.
“You seeing that car, T.J.?”
“I see it”
Static crackled over the handset. “Bound to be a clear traffic violation in there somewhere. We can't let people go charging down Main Street in violation of town safety codes.”
“Nothing violated that I can see. Except maybe those peaches.” T.J. flipped off his handset as his grizzled deputy strode out of the cafg directly across the street and walked toward him. “You're just itchy because you always wanted a car like that.”
Grady looked offended. “I am speaking as a man with honest town spirit A man with a true concern for the welfare and livelihood of our respected citizens.”
“And a man who's drowning in envy.”
“You paint a
He studied the clouds as wind brushed the mesquites. With a sigh he straightened his shoulders. She had come back, bringing darkness in her wake, just as she had long before. His fingers dug into the dirt as the coyotes raised their unearthly lament to echo off the high cliffs.
He turned away.
Veiled in the changing light, he began a chant older than the ruined walls above him, raising the sound to the sky until power rang through his chest. He could challengeor assist, control or deceive. A new millennium had come, but he knew that men's hearts did not change. Greed, envy, and fear walked just as they had centuries before.
Those who lived here spoke often of history and legend. Now they were about to learn that legends always had their cost.
“What do you mean the money isn't
there!
What kind of game are you playing?”
“It's not there. I'm looking at my account right now, dammit. Your last eight deposits are missing!”
“That's impossible.” He had coded them himself.
“Tell that to the man who's flying in tonight from Seattle.”
“That's not necessary,” he replied in a deadly cold voice. “We'll find the problem and take care of it from our end. We always do.”
“Damn straight, we'll find the problem. But if you'd like to stay alive, you'll find it for us first.”
Hie phone clicked off.
He stared at the receiver.
He hadn't made a mistake. Had he?
S heriff Jackson McCall was almost asleep.
His chair was cocked to forty-five degrees against a split-rail fence in front of the sheriffs office.
“T.J., you there?”
The tall cowboy, known as TJ. to his friends, scowled and shoved his Stetson lower on his head. He'd been up most of the prior twenty-four hours running down stray stock from a neighboring ranch and he wasn't overly pleased to be roused from a colorful dream involving palm trees, cool water, and a dozen nearly naked women in red sarongs.
His handset buzzed again. “T.J., I know you're there, and I know this blamed radio works, so you'd better answer me.”
The sheriff of Almost, Arizona, didn't move a muscle beneath his battered Stetson. “What is it, Grady? Another hitchhiker with a sign warning us the world has ended?”
“Hell, no. That was last month. This is a whole lot better.”
“I'm sleeping, Grady. You're on duty now. Call me when the mother ship enters final approach. Until then I've got a hot date with a lady in a red sarong.”
Grady chuckled. “You're making a big mistake, boy.”
“Mistake's my middle name.” T.J. eased his broad shoulders back against the chair. His eyes were closed and he was already halfway back into what was becoming a very inventive fantasy.
Lately it seemed as if fantasies were all the sheriff had time for.
“Dammit, T.J., you git yourself off that chair right now. It's a woman I'm calling you about, hear?”
Sighing, McCall shoved back his hat and squinted down the quiet street. Then he rocked his chair flat and stood up slowly.
A powder-blue Mercedes convertible stood angled before the General Mercantile, one wheel hitched over the dusty curb. The other was flattening a crate that appeared to be filled with peaches. Or what had
been
peaches.
“You seeing that car, T.J.?”
“I see it”
Static crackled over the handset. “Bound to be a clear traffic violation in there somewhere. We can't let people go charging down Main Street in violation of town safety codes.”
“Nothing violated that I can see. Except maybe those peaches.” T.J. flipped off his handset as his grizzled deputy strode out of the cafg directly across the street and walked toward him. “You're just itchy because you always wanted a car like that.”
Grady looked offended. “I am speaking as a man with honest town spirit A man with a true concern for the welfare and livelihood of our respected citizens.”
“And a man who's drowning in envy.”
“You paint a
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