Hunter
Hunter had spent every waking moment since Sam and Cat departed surveying Denver and researching the surrounding area. He’d rented a mount from the livery, and rode the main arteries of the city, sketch book in hand.
He’d asked for, and been granted, access to Denver’s General Land Office records. He made a sketch of the eastern plains using homestead entries, Commissioners’ letters, and land grants. The various rail lines that served Denver provided a scale based on towns along their route—one roughly every ten miles. The piecemeal map of Eastern Colorado included the Shilo and Harris family ranches. The drawing wasn’t as complete as he would have liked, but it did show train lines, small towns, and plots of lands filed with the Land Office. He’d made do with less.
He unfolded the map of the plains east of the mountains, each sketch carefully tied to the next with string. He spread the map on his bed, slid the pendulum from its silk bag into his hand, and gripped it in his fist. He checked the location of his bounty several times each day. Once they ceased to move, he could make plans to approach them.
Eyes closed, he exhaled through pressed lips.
Seeress, again I beseech you. Show me the location of those foretold in your prophecy.
The voice in the back of his mind, never completely silent, erupted with urgent warnings. Be careful. Be cautious.
“Mon Dieu, be silent,” he muttered, and ran his free hand through his hair. “I’ve come too far to stop now.”
With the rose quartz held tight, he let the arrowhead slide between his fingers and swing freely over the map. The pendulum circled wide, spiraling oblong until it swung side to side in a straight line. The easternmost point was over The Shilo Ranch, north of Kiowa Crossing; the western point, somewhere in Denver.
The same as this afternoon.
Hunter rubbed his face and rested a hand on his hip.
They may have stopped moving.
He spread the Denver map on the bed and swung the pendulum again. He hadn’t bothered with the Denver map earlier. When the bob slowed, he opened his eyes. The arrowhead curled in one direction. He moved the pendulum until the arrowhead became still, and he let the tip touch the map.
“Huh.” Hunter rubbed his eyes with forefinger and thumb, then pushed his hair from his face.
An incredible coincidence, perhaps?
He stowed the maps and pendulum, slid his flat-brimmed hat on his head, and left his room with a familiar destination in mind. He hurried down the stairs and waved to the clerk behind the desk. Once outside, he rounded the building to the hotel’s small stable.
He flipped the stable boy a penny to tack up his horse, and then checked the cinch strap before he mounted. He smiled at the wide-eyed lad. “Merci.”
Hunter followed the same route as he and Sam had the other day. He turned on the diagonal and continued past the livery stable at Park and Pence. As he rode along Pence Street toward the Harris house, he realized the shadows stretched long across the street in front of him. The day had passed more quickly than he realized.
He reined the horse to a stop in front of the house. No lights shone from the windows. Along the street ahead, the soft glow from neighbors’ windows made the Harris home appear empty.
Perhaps they’ve already departed.
The other point was close to the Harris Ranch. Tomorrow, he would check the telegraph office for a reply to his application as a field agent, and then he would ride east, toward Cat and Sam.
The voice at the back of his mind repeated an unrelenting dialogue. Stop. Stop. Stop.
He ran his hand behind his neck and looked back along the road. Stop what? He questioned the voice as a brief movement caught his eye. When he blinked, the road behind him was empty.
There’s no one there. You play with my imagination and fray my nerves. Be silent.
He urged his mount forward and approached the house. Curiosity compelled him to continue into the back yard despite the frantic warning to stop. He pulled back on the reins when he saw a rider near the back door.
Is this one of the witches?
In the deepening shadow, the man appeared to be a wrangler by his clothing. He must have heard Hunter approach, yet the man stared endlessly at the back of the house.
Hunter cleared his throat. “Bonjour. My name is Hunter.” He looked from the wrangler to the house, then back.
What is he staring at?
“I’ve been contracted to find several individuals that are of interest to my client.”
Could the man be ill?
“I believe they may be in some danger.”
The man turned his head as the voice in Hunter’s head erupted with a frantic plea.
Run.
The hair on Hunter’s neck rose, and his mount pranced as he involuntarily tightened the reins.
Run.
Not a cricket chirped. No bird sang nearby.
Run.
Adrenaline hit Hunter's heart like a sledgehammer, and he pulled hard on the reins a moment too late.
Ru—
He watched the wrangler and the horse collapse to the ground in boneless heaps. The voice that had been inside his head, his companion, for as long as he could remember, went silent. Instead, he heard a cackling chorus at the back of his mind and the lonely sound of a woman weeping. Sainte Mère de Dieu, the demon had him.
He heard his own laughter and felt his recent thoughts invaded and plundered.
East of Denver, north of Kiowa Crossing. The sight of the pendulum’s swing, the arrowhead stopped above The Shilo Ranch.
The horse turned to retrace its path along the side of the house without Hunter’s urging. Trapped inside his mind, panic overwhelmed him. There would be no escape. Forced to watch, he couldn’t even close his eyes.
Someone stood in the shadow along the side of the house. A man Hunter didn’t recognize blocked their exit. Although Hunter didn’t know the man, he shared enough of the demon’s consciousness to realize the demon recognized the man.
“What are you doing back here?” the young man demanded. “You can see no one is home—”
With a flick of Hunter's wrist, the boy flew head first into the brick wall.
The chorus of laughter intensified as the young man collapsed into a heap beside the building.
They rode past the body and turned onto the street. “East it is, then.” Hunter heard himself murmur. “We should reach them by dawn.”