Hell Come Sundown by Nancy A. Collins Page A

and deal with those situations the local law can’t handle. I’ve got to go back and see to it that Sangre doesn’t do to the rest of Texas what he did to Golgotha. That son of a bitch started shit on my watch, in my territory—I’ll be damned if I ain’t the one who’s gonna stop it.”
    â€œDo you think that’s wise? You don’t even know if you have the power to stop this Sangre.”
    â€œI’ve always done my duty by going where I was needed, no matter what the circumstances, whether it was riding down rustlers, hunting banditos or fighting redskins—no offense, ma’am. I don’t see why I should stop now.”
    â€œI know the place of which you speak. It is a half-day’s ride from here—if we had horses. Besides, you can not travel during the daylight hours.”
    â€œWho said anything about we? I’m the one who has to go, not you. Besides, it will be far more dangerous after dark for you than it will be for me.”
    â€œI have ways of protecting myself against such creatures,” Pretty Woman replied. “Besides, this is part of my quest. I not only saw you in my vision, but the one you call Sangre as well. That means our destinies are intertwined.”
    He dropped his shoulders in resignation. He could tell there was no talking her out of it. And, truth to tell, part of him did not want to strike out alone. They walked for the rest of that night, before holing up in an outcropping of rock that provided enough shade to wait out the daylight. Upon the setting of the sun, they resumed their march. It was close to midnight by the time they reached the outskirts of the town.
    Sam frowned and paused, tilting his head. “He’s gone,” he said flatly.
    â€œHow do you know?”
    â€œI’m not sure. It’s like the hairs going up on the back of your neck when you know you’re close to something dangerous.
    You just feel it—or, in this case, I don’t feel him.”
    It had been just over three days since Yoakum had last been in Golgotha, but the town was almost unrecognizable. Save for the church and the general store, every building had been burned to the ground. Among the still-smoldering timbers were a number of bodies covered in soot and ash, their limbs contorted and scorched.
    â€œWhat happened here?” Pretty Woman asked in a hushed voice as they surveyed the carnage.
    â€œI’m not sure,” Yoakum replied. He scanned what was left of the town, trying to apply his lawman’s knowledge to an outlaw beyond human experience. “Lord knows I’ve seen more than my fair share of massacres, but nothing like this! Whatever happened, it looks as if they did this to themselves. It’s as if they were winnowing themselves out.
    â€œAnd if Sangre isn’t here—where is he? I know for a fact that there wasn’t a living pack animal for twenty miles in any direction. If he did leave on foot, how could he do so without the risk of exposing himself to sunlight?”
    He fell silent as his gaze fell on the town cemetery, located behind the church. Cursing under his breath, he motioned for Pretty Woman to follow him. As they drew closer, Sam could see that a number of the graves had been desecrated, the bodies pulled from their final resting places and tossed about like so many macabre dolls.
    â€œThere are thirteen open graves and thirteen missing caskets,” the Ranger said. “That means, of the forty-plus people that lived in Golgotha, only twelve are left, plus Sangre. Judging by these tracks, they all headed out on foot, taking their coffins with them. That way they can travel by night and are guaranteed a place to hide from the sun during the day. These drag marks show them heading in every direction of the compass. And there’s no way for me to know which track belongs to Sangre.
    â€œMerciful God, it’s like when a ship runs aground and all the rats in