THE THOUSAND DOLLAR HUNT: Colt Ryder is Back in Action! by J.T. Brannan Page B

that the general was so good at reading people that he knew absolutely that killing him wasn’t the reason I was there; and I also got the impression that he wanted to win my trust. And what better way than by letting me keep my weapon, while offering himself as a target?
    It was working, too – despite myself, I felt that I was being drawn to Badrock like a moth to a flame, impressed by the man’s charisma, his easy confidence, and his sheer force of character.
    ‘The house hasn’t been used for years,’ Badrock said as we stepped out of the 4x4 and made our way into the grounds of the chapel. ‘The chapel’s seen better days too, I’m afraid.’
    ‘But I can see it’s getting some more use now,’ I observed, as in among the ancient graves there seemed to be several which were significantly newer. It suddenly became apparent that Benjamin Hooker might not have been the only worker to meet an untimely demise here.
    I noticed, too, several open graves just waiting to be filled.
    I then wondered – and I was amazed that it had taken me this long to do so – if that was the reason I’d been brought here.
    To fill one of these new graves.
    I instinctively jerked my head toward Hatfield, ready to move if he was reaching for a weapon.
    ‘No need to worry, son,’ Badrock said as if he could read my mind. ‘You’re in no danger here. I just want to clear this up, so that we can move on.’
    Even as he said this, the driver struck the earth with a spade he’d brought from the car, forcing it into the soil of a new grave with his heel until it went in deep, before pulling it back out and hurling it to one side.
    ‘Move on to what?’ I asked Badrock as the driver continued to dig.
    ‘Let’s just wait out on that,’ he replied. ‘Put your mind at rest first.’
    I nodded, my eyes roaming the cemetery – for years used to bury the bodies of family members and ranch hands.
    ‘You’ve had more than one accident, I see,’ I said as the hole the driver was digging got larger and larger. I gestured at the open graves. ‘And maybe expecting more?’
    Badrock shrugged. ‘Like any enterprise, we’ve had some unfortunate situations,’ he admitted. ‘Some accidents during construction, others with the animals. We bury the homeless ones here, although on occasion we also bury folk from across the border, if their families can’t afford to do it back home. Sometimes sickness takes them too.’
    ‘Doesn’t sound like a good safety record,’ I said, but Badrock didn’t reply, merely shrugged as if to say what can you do?
    ‘I’m done,’ the driver-digger shouted from the open grave, and Badrock and I moved over toward him.
    I peered down into the hole, saw the man down there covered in dirt, a coffin next to him in the pit.
    ‘Open it,’ the general ordered, and the man did as he was told, unclasping the locks and heaving the lid up.
    I knelt by the side, saw the body as the waning sunlight hit it.
    The boy was in grim repair, decomposition starting to occur despite the airtight coffin; and even from this distance, I could see the damage that had been done to him.
    The chest was half caved in, the face ruptured and semi-crushed; but despite the damage, I could still recognize him from the Polaroid.
    So it was true – Benjamin Hooker was dead, and the state of the body seemed to corroborate Badrock’s tale of what happened to him.
    And yet the crushing damage could have been inflicted post-mortem to cover up the real cause of death. I wasn’t a doctor, and I wouldn’t be carrying out an autopsy though; it was sufficient that the boy was dead.
    At the same time, however, I knew that it wasn’t sufficient, that there was more to Badrock’s enterprise here than met the eye.
    Why were there so many other bodies here? How had they died, really?
    It just didn’t add up, and I knew my work here was far from done.
    If I was going to go back to Kayden with answers, it would have to be with all the answers.
    And