The Dead Spend No Gold Read online

  The canyon suddenly became dark, and James looked to see if a storm was blowing in, but except for a few wispy clouds, it was clear. The sun was still bright, and yet it seemed dim.

  There was a loud whoop. James looked down to see Oliver holding something that was glinting brightly even in the dim light.

  “Biggest nugget I ever seen!’ Oliver shouted. “We’re rich, my friend. The pond is full of it, right here in the water, James! Last time we ever have to chase after stinking cows!”

  James approached, trying to see what Oliver was holding. Something splashed into the pond, sending huge ripples across the otherwise still surface. Oliver must’ve thrown a big rock, skipping it across the water in his joy. Strangely, wherever the rock landed, a red splotch appeared on the surface of the pond.

  He turned to Oliver just as his friend’s body toppled over, his head gone. James stared in shock, turning back to see the detached head, not a rock at all, still bobbing in the pond. The light went out of Oliver’s eyes as it sank, a large bubble breaking the surface with a pop.

  James turned to run and found a tree behind him, a huge, moss-covered mass with two large branches, a thick trunk, and a knobby top. James couldn’t take it in. It made no sense. It was unmoving, but it hadn’t been there moments before. No, that wasn’t moss; it was fur. Now the tree moved toward him. Eyes glared out of the round knot on top, intelligent and malevolent, bearing down on him.

  James fired his rifle, certain of his aim at such close quarters, but the creature neither faltered nor flinched. It kept coming toward him. He dropped the rifle and ran from the clearing. The ground shook, the light dimmed further, and he felt the wind of the creature’s approach. There was a roaring sound drowning out his shouts, and the growl of the monster filled his ears as an ever-increasing stench filled his nostrils. He felt himself snatched up, and then he was flying toward the tops of the trees.

  James floated through the air in a moment that seemed to last an eternity. He closed his eyes. He could almost believe he was back home, in bed and dreaming.

  And then something struck him in the back of his head, and he fell into a dreamless sleep.

  CHAPTER 5

  Tucker’s Journal, Day 3

  I heard the monster pass in the darkness of night before ever seeing it. Its tread was heavy but certain, as if it could see in the dark. The smell was overpowering. It hesitated beside me, and I dared not move until it continued on.

  The pain in my head made me dizzy. When I tried to rise, I felt boneless and blind. I wondered, because of the pain, if I was permanently crippled. But somehow, I slept.

  Awakening a second time, I glimpsed the small one. The first light of day flashed into the cave, revealing the creature watching me from the middle of the cavern. I say small, for it had a miniature shape, as if undeveloped—but in truth, it was nearly as tall as a juvenile human. Only in comparison to the other monster, the one who had captured me, did it seem diminutive.

  Yet I sensed from the beginning that it was young. It didn’t move at first, so I had time to examine it. It had two arms and two legs, and stood upright. It had a huge head, and what neck it had was obscured by a covering of long hair. The creature that had captured me was dark and could have been mistaken for a bear standing upright, but this one was pure white, with red eyes, which could have made it look demonic; instead, the eyes had a softness to them, the innocence of a small child. It is an albino, I am certain. It has large canines protruding over its lower lip. Its tongue sometimes hangs out when it concentrates. My fear of it had almost vanished when it finally approached me. I let it touch my face without wincing. It has large, square hands, with four fingers and a thumb.

  I suspected I have been spared for one thing: to be this monstrous child’s playmate.

  * * *

  “Something worse than werewolves?” Virginia repeated.

  Feather looked solemn. She simply nodded. Virginia waited for her to say more, but Mrs. Harrelson returned just then, followed by a tall, gangly man with long black hair that was gray at the temples, giving him a shaggy dignity. He was dressed elegantly, with a silver star on his chest, but his clothes were stained with many days’ wear.

  “This is Sheriff Pike,” Mrs. Harrelson said. “He has some questions for you.”

  He approached Virginia, but ignored Feather. “Virginia Reed?” he asked with a slight bow.

  Virginia inclined her head. He seemed to know her, though she was certain she’d never met him before.

  “I know your father,” he said. “Fought with him in the Mexican War. A brave man. Apparently, his daughter is too.”

  Virginia felt her cheeks burn hot at the mention of her father fighting during the Mexican-American War. It only reminded her of that horrible winter trapped in the mountains. She’d never forgive Colonel Fremont and the other soldiers for conscripting her father for that silly battle instead of organizing a rescue mission to set off over the mountains.

  Pike glanced at Feather, then dismissed her, and took a seat near Virginia. “Describe the man who attacked you.”

  Feather answered instead. “He was small and scrawny.” The sheriff looked over at her as if surprised she had spoken. “He was quite dirty, and he stank,” she continued.

  “And?” Pike asked, turning back to Virginia. “Did he have any unusual features?”

  “A broken jaw,” Virginia said. “It seemed like it was at the wrong angle.”

  The sheriff slapped his hand on the table. “I knew it! You were lucky. He is a very dangerous man. We’ve been looking for him.”

  “Why?” Feather asked. Virginia almost smiled. Shy little Feather was so put out at being ignored that she was being uncharacteristically forward.

  Pike frowned. “He claim-jumped some miners on Barrel Hill. Killed them, took their gold. But one of them managed to get away and describe him. I wasn’t sure it was accurate until just now, because the survivor was delusional. Talking about monsters and such. I can almost understand why, because the carnage in that camp was like nothing I’ve ever seen. The men weren’t just killed, they were eviscerated, taken apart. Wolves had gotten to them.”

  “Sheriff Pike!” Mrs. Harrelson exclaimed.

  The man looked puzzled for a moment, then turned to Virginia. “I beg your pardon for the description. It was shocking, and I shouldn’t have upset you.”

  Feather and Virginia managed not to look at each other.

  “So, I’ve been keeping an eye out, but not really expecting him to show up here,” Pike continued. “I’m sorry for that, Ma’am. Perhaps if I had been more alert, this attack wouldn’t have happened.” He stood up and once again gave Virginia his strange courtly bow.

  “I’ll find him, you can be sure of that,” the sheriff said. “From the amount of blood in the alley, he can’t have gone far. Thank you for your help, Miss Reed.” At the last second, he gave Feather a glance and a slight nod.

  “What happens if he comes back, Sheriff?” Feather asked.

  “He wouldn’t dare,” the man said dismissively.

  Mrs. Harrelson saw him out, and the girls were left alone again.

  * * *

  “He didn’t seem to want to acknowledge you were here,” Virginia said.

  “Being ignored is preferable to being scorned,” Feather shrugged. “It is of no matter.”

  “I’m sorry,” Virginia said.

  Feather shrugged again.

  “You were about to say,” Virginia finally said, breaking the ensuing silence. “What could be worse than a werewolf?”

  “A creature that has always lived alongside my people,” Feather said, settling back into her seat. “As long as we stay away from the Sacred Place, except to leave it ceremonial sacrifices, it leaves us alone.”

  “It?”

  “My people call it the Ts’emekwes or the Skoocoom,” Feather said. “Both names are borrowed from other tribes, as we will not use its real name—for if we say the true name aloud, the monster will hear and carr
y us away to be eaten. Some of my people think the Ts’emekwes are gods.”

  “Do you?” Virginia asked.

  “I was raised a good Christian. I should believe in only one God. So when I feel safe, I do not think the Ts’emekwes are gods. But when I am scared and alone…then I believe as my people do.”

  Mrs. Harrelson bustled into the kitchen, scolding them for chatting when the guests were already clamoring for breakfast. Feather rose to slice the day-old bread. Virginia gathered the coffee beans and began to fill the mill for grinding. “Make extra,” the innkeeper ordered. “As soon as word gets out about what happened, everyone will come flocking to gossip and gawk.”

  Just as dawn was breaking, the girls slipped upstairs to dress.

  “You certainly have a lot to say all of a sudden,” Virginia observed as she put on her work apron.

  As if to be contrary, Feather didn’t answer.

  “It’s a lot to take in,” Virginia mused. “‘Skoocoom doesn’t sound so scary.”

  “That is why we call it that in the brightness of day, when surrounded by others,” Feather said. “‘Skoocoom, Skoocoom,’ we chant. But at night, alone, we call it Ts’emekwes, for it can tear thy limbs from thy body and devour them before thou knowest they are missing.”

  Virginia shook her head. “Sounds like werewolves to me.”

  “No!” Feather said emphatically. “Werewolves can be killed, like any natural creature. But the Skoocoom is tricky. You never see him in time. You never hear him. All you can do is smell him.”

  “Smell him?”

  “If you smell death approach, you must run. You must never let him get close enough for you to see him, for he will kill you for the sacrilege.”

  Virginia listened intently. It all seemed so unlikely, but then, who was she to doubt? She had just fought a beast that was supposed to be mythical. “But if you never see the…the Skoocoom, what’s the problem?” she asked.

  “He has…emerged,” Feather said. “He has begun feeding again. We have failed him, and he is taking retribution.” There was a distant look in her eye. She sounded like a proper schoolgirl, with her diction and her vocabulary, but she said things no typical schoolgirl would ever say. She was Virginia’s age, but her solemnness made her seem older and wiser.

  “At first, I did not believe in the Skoocoom,” she said. “When I was a child, I did not credit any of my people’s beliefs, thinking them superstitious nonsense. So I was told by my foster parents. I was raised a Christian, but in my secret heart, I found those beliefs to be equally strange. But my own eyes have shown me what the Skoocoom can do. Hence, I was not shocked to see the Skinwalker last night. I knew such creatures existed.”

  Virginia mulled this over. Werewolves probably existed in every region of the world, but this was the first time she’d heard of Skoocooms or Ts’emekwes.

  There was a commotion at the front of the hotel, and the girls dropped their knives with a clatter, hurrying to see what it was about. Mrs. Harrelson stood on the sidewalk, arms crossed, protecting her hotel, but the clamor was coming from across the street. A crowd of men had fanned out around the entrance to the small building that housed Mrs. Simpson’s laundry on the first floor and her home above.

  “What’s happened?” Virginia asked over the shouting crowd.

  “It’s that terrible man, Strauss,” Mrs. Harrelson shook her head. “He’s grabbed Clara Simpson and little Juliet.”

  The shouts grew louder, and men waved rifles and pistols in the air. Sheriff Pike showed up just in time, hurrying down the street with long, lanky strides. He bent his head toward the men in front, arguing urgently and motioning the mob back. They took a couple of steps backward, but before the sheriff could even turn around, they edged forward again. They fell silent, however, so Pike’s voice carried across the street as he knocked on the door of the laundry.

  “Come on out, Strauss. I promise you a fair trial. These men out here won’t wait for any such thing.”

  “Do what you want!” called a voice from inside. “I don’t care!”

  Virginia shivered. She recognized the slurring of the voice: the distorted muzzle of a werewolf was mangling the human words. Pike stiffened at the sound and looked around uneasily.

  “Let them go, Strauss,” he said. “They didn’t hurt anyone. They won’t save you.”

  “You can have them, Sheriff. But I want something in return.”

  “You can’t make any demands, Strauss. You come out now or else.”

  “I’ll let them go, but I want that bitch, Virginia Reed, to take their place!”

  That silenced the mob. Virginia saw everyone’s eyes turn to the hotel, and one by one, they focused on her, standing there by the door. Feather and Mrs. Harrelson turned to stare at her.

  She found herself stepping off the sidewalk and into the street, almost as if someone else was inside her, forcing her forward…because her mind was screaming for her to run away.

  The crowd parted for her. The sheriff met her on the sidewalk in front of the laundry. “No, Miss Reed,” he said, shaking his head. “I can’t allow you to go in there.”

  “Two innocent souls are in there,” Virginia said, forcing the words out past the constriction in her throat. “There is only one of me.”

  “I’m sorry for them,” Pike said gravely. “But the course of events has swallowed them up, and they must take their chances with fate. I can’t allow you to sacrifice yourself.”

  “I have no intention of sacrificing myself,” Virginia said. Her voice was steady, and her tone surprised the sheriff, who backed up a step. “I beat him once; I can beat him again.”

  Pike towered a good foot over Virginia, and, looking up, she could see that he wanted to scoff, but something stopped him. “Perhaps you could, Miss,” he said. “Perhaps you could. But I can’t take that chance. Seems to me that this fellow has nothing against Mrs. Simpson or her little girl. They’re innocents, as you said. But it’s clear he has it in for you. So I reckon they might survive, but you certainly won’t.”

  “But…” Virginia began to argue.

  “No, Miss Reed,” the sheriff said bluntly. “I’ve decided. Now go back to the hotel before I have these men carry you back.”

  Virginia turned and walked across the street, her head down, blushing. She wasn’t aware of the looks of respect from the men or the wide berth the bystanders were giving her.

  “Bring the Reed bitch to me!” Strauss yelled. In response, the crowd began murmuring and shouting uncouth replies.

  Pike held up one hand for silence, and the crowd quieted. “I’ll give you one hour to come out!” he shouted. “After that, we come for you!”

  Virginia went to her room, barely aware of navigating the stairs and the hallway. She was almost surprised to find herself sitting on her bed. The crowd outside grew louder.

  She knew what she had to do.

  The knapsack under the dresser she shared with Feather hadn’t been opened once since Virginia’s arrival at Sutter’s Fort. Inside were the men’s clothes Virginia wore on the trail; trousers, shirt, and coat. Beneath it all was the bowie knife her father had given her at their parting.

  He had tried hard to keep her home, but after their experience at the pass, both of them considered her an adult. “I can’t stop you,” he’d said gravely. “And I know you can take care of yourself. This knife has kept me alive more than once. It will comfort me to know you have it.”

  Virginia dressed quickly, topping off her outfit with the workman’s cap that was crushed in one corner of the drawer. She looked in the mirror and nodded. From a distance, she could pass. She only wished she had time to find the pistol Mrs. Harrelson had retrieved from the werewolf’s room.

  She turned to leave and found Feather standing in the doorway. “Thou art going after him,” the Indian girl stated.

  “There’s a back door,” Virginia said. “If it isn’t being watched, I’ll be able to get in.”

  “I am coming with thee.”r />
  “No, you’re not,” Virginia said. “I don’t want to have to worry about you.”

  “I have helped thee before,” Feather said stubbornly.

  “Yes, and you surprised both of us, hunter and prey.”

  Feather, apparently unmoved, crossed her arms.

  “You can’t come.” Virginia pushed past her and headed for the stairs. She hadn’t gone more than a few steps before the Indian girl started following her.

  “I told you, I don’t want your help!” Virginia exclaimed.

  “I understand,” Feather said calmly. “However, you need someone to create a diversion. I doubt Sheriff Pike has left the back door unguarded.”

  Virginia didn’t say anything, just kept walking through the dining room and the kitchen and out into the alley. Feather silently followed.

  The alley was empty. The crowd was so intent on the laundry that no one noticed them…that is, almost no one. A small child at the back of the crowd spotted them, his eyes growing wide. He tugged at his father’s coat, but the man angrily cuffed the child away. The two girls walked across the street and into the alley on the other side.

  The alley ran behind the buildings and ended only yards from the back of the laundry at a nondescript door that was indistinguishable from all the other doors. Virginia only knew it was the correct door because sometimes the load of laundry for the hotel was so large that she had to bring a cart to pick it up. When they reached the back of the building, Virginia poked her head around the corner.

  Feather was right. Two deputies with rifles stood near the back door. Their attention was directed toward the laundry’s interior, so they didn’t notice the girls. Virginia pulled the bowie knife from its sheath, glancing at Feather. The Indian girl nodded. She was so quiet, she was nearly on top of the deputies before one of them noticed her.