Happy Friday!
This is a short story that lead to a sequel short story and then spawned my second novel, Spiders in the Daffodils. I did a cursory re-edit for the website and damned, if I don’t still like this story and the world that came along with it as well.
I borrowed a bit from late author Larry McMurtry for my former Texas Ranger character of Tom Wall and even lifted a line or two just for fun. (Nothing very blatant and if you’ve read any of the adventures of Call and McCrae, you’ll know them when you see them.)
Whenever I am out selling books, I always recommend Spiders for folks not knowing what to pick up. It’s a western, a romance and a monster story.
I have frequently said that I wanted to write a straight up western and was doing it until the monsters just showed up, and it’s true. It’s also one of my favorite things I’ve written.
I keep meaning to write another story with Wall and his love, Veronique and I probably will.
I hope you enjoy this one!
And I’ll be at Legion Park on September 6th from 4PM to 8PM slinging books and trying not to eat all the Latin fusion empanadas from my neighbors from Bienvenido’s PGH.
(Find the park here.)

Just Enough Rope

Clem smiled as the bullet slammed into his forehead and threw him backward onto the dusty street. When he hit the ground, the dirt and sand flew up around his body. There was a thud and then silence as the dust began to blow in the wind. Blood poured from the hole in Clem’s forehead like a geyser. His body gave a small twitch in the bright Arizona sunlight.  

Tom Wall holstered his gun and walked toward Clem’s body. The sound of his boots broke the silence and the small crowd that had watched quietly began to scatter. It was the way of things; people gunned down in the street for money or justice or both. The show at this point was over and no one had seen anything worth waiting around for anymore. 

Wall reached Clem’s body and knelt down to look at him. Clem’s eyes were still open and he still wore that stupid smile. Wall reached over and closed the dead man’s eye lids. He couldn’t stand to have him looking up at the sky. He stood up and looked around. Of course there was only the mortician, ready to claim his prize and already moving to take the body with his huge assistant. They were both dressed in black suits and covered in dust. 

“That was a hell of a shot, Mr. Wall. Name’s Dooley,” the mortician said, sticking his hand out. Wall took it and shook quickly. “Yes sir, we heard you’d be looking for Clem and we heard you was a hell of a shot.” 

“More lucky than anything,” Wall said. “How long you reckon you’re gonna prop him up for Mr. Dooley?” The mortician shrugged. 

“I guess a day or two unless you need to leave in a hurry,” Dooley replied. “We got a nice hotel right there across the street and some good eats right next to it.” 

Wall looked down at Clem. He would clear five hundred dollars after he dragged Clem back to Texas. After tracking him for three months, it was over. Maybe he’d stay a day or two. Maybe he’d earned some sleep in a real bed. 

He looked at Dooley, who seemed to be waiting for an answer. 

“I reckon a day or two would be good. He’s yours until I come for him.” 

Dooley beamed. 

“Oh, thank you Mr. Wall!” he said. He hit the large brute in the ill-fitting suit next to him. “Shake the shit out of your eyes and pick ‘im up, Big Pink. The man he called Big Pink walked over to Clem and grabbed him under his arms. He lifted the big man easily and dragged him away. Dooley had started making light conversation about putting Clem’s body on display and money, but Wall had already tuned him out and looked at the hotel. He was suddenly very tired and wanted a drink, and to go to sleep. 

He walked away from Dooley, giving a small wave so as not to be rude. He walked slowly to the wooden steps and climbed them as if he had suddenly gained weight. 

He opened the door and stepped into the lobby. There were scattered few people sitting, chatting up whores from the place next door, but he ignored them and walked to the front desk. A small burly man walked over to greet him smiling. 

“It’s an honor to meet you, Mr. Wall,” the man said. “I’m Stanley Bosen and I’m the manager here at the Bosen Hotel.” 

Bosen looked at him. Wall was a tired looking man of about 30 and fairly average looking with black hair. But his eyes…ice green and cruel looking. 

“I’m sure once the whores next door find out you’re staying here, they’ll be all over you.” 

“If you could kind of keep that quiet, I’d be obliged,” Wall said. “And you don’t have to keep calling me mister. Tom or Wall will do just fine. How much for two nights?”

Bosen smiled. 

“Our regular rooms are five a night Mr… I mean, Tom. The suites come with a full bath. Just filled them up about an hour ago. Those are seven fifty. But…” Bosen stopped and grabbed his ledger. “I may be able to make a slight deal with you.” 

“What kind of ‘slight deal?’” Wall asked. 

“Well, it seems the object of your visit to our fine little town had stayed here and actually paid for a suite in advance. Three days left to go seein’ as he won’t be coming back anytime soon.” He gave Wall a wink. “It’s all yours if you want it. It’s a suite!” 

Wall considered this. He wasn’t broke, not even close, but if he could save a little on the trip…well, maybe he could get a train ticket back to Texas instead of hauling Clem around for weeks. And damn, he was tired. 

“I couldn’t just stay for free,” Wall said. “But a discount would be awful nice.” 

Bosen smiled even bigger. 

“Two dollars a night,” Bosen said “And a picture of you to hang up at my billiards room next door. It isn’t often we get a genuine celebrity here.” Wall frowned.  

“I ain’t a celebrity,” Wall said. “But I’ll take the deal.” 

“Oh, but you are a celebrity Tom. I can try to keep your presence here quiet as I can, but everyone knows who you are and this is the only hotel in town.” Bosen said “And that’ll be two dollars for the first night.” 

Wall reached into his pants and pulled out the money requested. Bosen took the money, put it in a drawer and filled out his ledger. He spun the big book around for Wall to sign. 

“Just sign here, Tom.” Bosen said. Tom grabbed a pen and signed his name. Bosen suddenly slammed the book closed and rang a bell. He pulled a key out from behind the counter and handed it to Wall. 

“Your room is 311, top floor. If you wouldn’t mind, we’d like to give the room a good once over before you go in and get settled. Take this over to the billiards room next door and have a drink on me.” 

Bosen handed Wall a round-looking coin that said “FREE DRINK TO THE BARER.”  He turned it over and it said the same thing. 

“We’ll let you know when your room is ready, Tom.” 

 Wall nodded and said “Much obliged again.”  He tipped his hat and walked out of the hotel. As he left, a young man ran over to Bosen at the front desk. 

 “Please prepare 311 for a new guest. Box up Mr. Clem’s items and bring them to me in my office, okay?” 

The young man grabbed a ring of keys and ran up the stairs in the center of the room to do as he had been told. Bosen watched Wall through the window slumping over to the billiards room next door. He smiled. 

2 

Wall knew the second he walked into the billiards room it was a huge mistake. He didn’t care though. A free drink was a free drink and he needed one badly. 

He tried to keep his head down and walked to a dark corner of the bar. An old bartender came over with a slight limp and a mouth full of bad teeth. 

“What can I do you for?” he asked, wiping the dusty bar in front of Wall with a filthy rag. 

“You got beer?” Wall asked. 

“Hell son, it’s even cold.” The bartender said, grinning. “That’s a quarter if you want it.” 

Wall slapped the drink token on the bar and slid it to the bartender. 

“Well then, a drink for our special guest,” the bartender said. “On the house at that!”  The bartender disappeared and returned with a foamy mug of beer. He set it in front of Wall, who grabbed it and downed about half of it before putting it down again. 

“God damn, that’s cold!” he said, laughing a little. He wiped his mouth off on his sleeve and smiled. How long had it been since he smiled?  He couldn’t recall. The bartender laughed with him. 

“Told you son, we serve ‘em cold here.” 

“Damned if you don’t,” Wall said. He reached into his pocket and pulled out some coins. He put four on the bar.  

“That first one’s on the house, but keep them coming, sir.” Wall said, reaching for his beer. 

“Call me Hank, and you got it. Don’t drink ‘em all that fast. Your head’ll feel like old Clem’s before too long if you do.” 

Wall laughed again and took a deep drink of the beer. He had always been amazed at how one small thing could turn you right around. He was ready to go lie down and he was still damn tired, but a cold beer was a rare thing even in the big cities. And just when he needed a cold drink, he found it in the tiny town of…of… 

“Hank, what’s the name of this town?” Wall asked, but Hank had gone on to help another customer.  

Aw, hell with it. Who cares? Wall thought. Just enjoy your damn drink, dummy. 

He adjusted how he was sitting and began to relax for the first time in weeks. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He closed his eyes for a minute and let the cold fire in his belly soothe him a little bit. 

It didn’t last long. 

He felt a hand gently touch his shoulder. His nose was filled with flowers and almonds. The hand gently massaged his shoulder and moved down to his back. 

A whore. 

He opened his eyes and expected to see a large woman, rode hard for too many years and looking to make some money. What he saw was something he’d not expected. 

She was beautiful. Couldn’t have been more than twenty if that; she had coral lips, grey eyes and a mop of long curly black hair that was tied in an unruly bun underneath a small hat. She was dressed like a fine lady. He knew damn well she wasn’t, but she could pass for one to be sure. She saw him looking at her and she smiled. 

“Hello, Mr. Wall. Buy a lady a drink?” 

Wall honestly didn’t know what to say, so he smiled. He brushed the seat next to him off and gestured for her to sit. He forgot his manners, but recovered enough to stand slightly until she sat. She winked at him. 

“You are definitely not from anywhere near here are you?  Such courtesy.” She said smiling. Wall blushed a little. Must be the beer, he thought. He slapped his hand on the bar and beckoned Hank over, who obliged. 

“Drink for the lady and I’ll take another beer please,” Wall said. He looked at the girl, who gave a shy nod, still smiling. 

“I’ll get you and Veronique drinks right quick. And, good call son!” Hank went to get the drinks and Veronique turned to Wall. 

“Thank you,” she said. “And might I say, that was one hell of a shot you made on Mr. Jackson a little while ago. Hell of a shot.” 

“Thanks,” was all Wall could think to say. He picked up the rest of his beer and downed it in one gulp. It felt good and he was feeling a little loose. He had to be careful not to get too loose; Veronique was a whore and as pretty as she was, just a whore out for some of his money. He’d known enough whores that would slit your neck if you had enough money on you. 

She didn’t seem the type, but he’d been wrong about women before. 

“Where did you learn to shoot like that?” she asked.  

“Ma’am, I was a Texas Ranger for about ten years. Learned real quick you had better hit what you’re shooting at, or you wouldn’t last too long in the job.” 

Her eyes lit up. 

“A real Texas Ranger?  That’s exciting!”  Veronique pulled a little book out of the side of her dress. It was a penny dreadful that had a picture of what was supposed to be Wall. She held it up. 

“I must have read this about twenty times, and it didn’t say anything about you being a Texas Ranger.” She said. Wall frowned and took the little book. 

The title of the dreadful was “Tom Wall: Youngest and Best Bounty Hunter This Side of the Pecos River!  Becoming a Legend Before Thirty!  

Quick Draw Killer! 

Wall looked at it for a while and then laughed. He handed it back to Veronique. 

“Well, I reckon they got the ranger part right, but they probably got just about everything else wrong,” He said as Hank dropped off their drinks. Wall pushed the money over the bar, but Hank waved his hand. 

“I started you a tab, son. Go get yourself in some trouble there. I got other people that need drinks.” He winked and left. 

He grabbed his beer and she reached for her drink; a glass of wine of some kind. She held it up. 

“Cheers, Mr. Wall. Here’s to us.” 

He clinked his beer as gently as he could to her wine glass. 

“To…us.” He said. 

The two took a few sips of their drinks and began to talk to each other. He was learning a lot about himself, that was one thing. She must’ve read that damn penny dreadful a lot more than twenty times; she was quoting entire passages verbatim from the book. Although the stories she was asking him about were pure made-up bullshit, it was pretty flattering to hear someone talk to him about him for a change. He watched her as she lit up, talking about his alleged adventures and watching her sink and then laugh as he told the real version. 

He also knew when he was being played and he wasn’t getting that feeling from Veronique. Maybe it was the beer. Maybe it wasn’t, but he was enjoying himself. 

Relaxing. 

He felt good. 

After a few more cold beers and wine, they decided to get something to eat. They asked Hank about the food and he assured them he’d have something nice fixed up for them. In a short while, he brought out two steaming wooden bowls of stew and some crusty bread. Veronique took little bites, but Wall devoured his after the first bite. 

“Hank, what kind of meat is this?” Wall asked, with a mouthful of stew. 

“Fresh,” Hank replied. “Good ain’t it?  The wife does a damn good job, don’t you think?” 

Wall smiled and nodded as he tore back into the bowl. He finished in five minutes. Veronique giggled as he looked up at her, mouth covered with stew. 

“Lord, excuse me,” he said and laughed a little himself. “Been so long since I had a sit-down meal, I forgot my manners.” 

“I like to see a man eat,” Veronique said, grabbing a napkin from the bar and wiping his mouth. She leaned in closer to him and said, “What else has it been a long time for, Mr. Wall?” 

3 

Veronique lay sleeping with an arm across Wall’s chest. He looked down at her and smiled to himself. They came to his room, took a bath together and spent the next few hours exhausting and pleasing each other. He’d been with his share of whores, but she seemed less like one and more like someone he could be with for a long time. It was a fool’s thought to be sure, but he was enjoying all of her, even while she slept. 

He had tried to sleep along with her, but he was wide awake. The combination of the beer, food and sex should have knocked him out and he knew this, but he was up and alert. He kept looking at her and stroked her hair. She gave a little smile in her sleep and he felt her snuggling up closer to him.  

“I could get used to this,” he whispered. Veronique opened her eyes and looked up at him. 

“Why Mr. Wall,” she said in her own whisper. “You sound a little bit smitten.” 

Wall had to laugh, and she climbed on top of him and kissed his cheek. 

“I reckon I ain’t alone in it either,” he said kissing her neck. 

“No sir, you are not.” She said, finding his mouth. They kissed deep and hard for a moment until she broke off and looked at him. 

“You don’t always kiss whores like that, do you Mr. Wall?” 

“No, I do not,” he said. “But I ain’t really thinking of you as a whore. And, it’s Tom. Not mister anything to you.” 

A small tear streamed down her face, and she kissed him again. He reached up and grabbed her as they fell into each other again. When they finished this time, he fell asleep tangled in Veronique’s arms, and he slept as well as he ever did. 

4

Wall awoke to find the room dark. Veronique was still sleeping next to him, and he carefully got out of the bed, naked he walked over to the heavy oak dresser where he’d thrown most of what was in his pockets and found his matches. He lit the oil lamp on the dresser and looked for his pocket watch. He popped it open and saw through the dim light that the watch had stopped. He frowned, but realized he didn’t really care about the time, but he had started to think about dragging Clem’s body back to Texas. 

He looked at Veronique, sleeping peacefully on the bed. What was he going to do about her?  It hurt his head to think about leaving her here, but could he haul her and a stinking corpse on a train bound for Texas?  He sure as hell couldn’t take her on the trail if he decided to go that way. 

He decided he needed some air, so he quietly put on his dungarees, boots, a shirt and strapped his gun on just in case. He left the room quietly and walked down the dimly lit hallway toward the stairs. As he walked slowly down the carpeted staircase, he heard voices speaking in hushed tones. He resisted the urge to stop and listen as was ingrained in him from a decade in the Texas Rangers. It was harder than he thought it would be, and his hand found itself resting on his gun anyway. (That urge, he never resisted.) 

When he finished his descent, he saw Bosen and Dooley, the mortician chatting away quietly. They both regarded him and smiled. 

“Nice night for a walk, Mr. Wall?” Bosen asked, smiling. 

Wall walked closer to the two men. Dooley looked as pale as milk. 

“Feeling a little poorly, Mr. Dooley?” Wall asked. 

Dooley swallowed and shook his head. 

“I’m…yes. Poorly, that’s about right.” His voice sounded shaky. “We’re gonna prop your bounty in front of the hotel in the morning, Mr. Wall. If you’d like to pose for some of those pictures, that would sure help things along.” 

Wall shook his head. 

“You do what you need to do with him, but I’ve already done what I needed to do with that bastard. Save for draggin’ him back to Texas that is.” 

Dooley nodded. 

“When do you reckon you’ll be heading back?” Dooley asked. 

“I ain’t sure just yet. I’ll let you know before the end of tomorrow. Depends on the train schedule.” 

“Train?” Dooley turned paler if that were possible. “You gonna put him on a train?” 

“If I had wings, I’d fly that crooked son of a bitch back to Texas.” Wall said, flatly. “I don’t want to have to spend any more time with him than I have to. I spent three months chasing his ass here. I’m done.”

Bosen laughed. 

“Well, you should take your time to decide, Mr. Wall. Still have a few days on that room after all. Besides, Mr. Dooley can put him on ice so he doesn’t stink up the train when you leave at the end of the week if that’s what you decide to do.” 

Bosen leaned over the counter. 

“And I’m sure your new ‘friend’ would sure like you to stay a little longer.” 

Wall nodded. 

“I’ll think about it,” was all he said. He tipped his hat and walked out the hotel door. Dooley followed right behind him. 

As he walked along the street, he felt a little chilly, but it also felt good. He still had the lingering smell of Veronique on him and he again thought about getting used to it. 

“What do you want Mr. Dooley?” Wall asked the man behind him. He kept walking and the mortician followed behind him. 

“I wanted to talk to you Mr. Wall. Can you stop for a minute?”

“I can walk and talk at the same time if it’s all the same to you.” Dooley sighed but walked faster to catch up to Wall’s longer stride. 

“I was wondering,” Dooley began. “If you had thought about leaving a little sooner.” 

Wall said nothing. 

“You know, to get a jump on the trip?  Get home earlier?  Relax before your next job?” 

“This here is my last job,” Wall replied. “And I’m relaxing just fine.” Wall stopped and whirled to look at Dooley. 

“Some reason I should leave?” he asked a trifle cold. 

Dooley stopped dead in his tracks. He looked terrified, but not of Wall. 

“Well, sir, I really can’t…I’m not at liberty to…oh my,” Dooley was shaking all over. “I can’t do this anymore,” 

“Do what?” Wall was genuinely confused. “What are you going on about, Dooley?  You’re as white as a sheet.” 

Dooley grabbed a wooden column and held himself up. 

“It’s too much,” he said, nearly sobbing. “Just too damned much. It’s got to end.” 

Wall moved toward Dooley and held a hand out to steady the man, but Dooley moved away from him. 

“This town is poison, Mr. Wall. The longer you stay, the harder it’ll be for you to leave and leave you must!” 

“What do you mean poison?” 

He thought of Veronique and wondered why the hell he got out of bed. 

“I mean poison. This place, this damn town is a trap!” Dooley was tearing up and drooling slightly. 

“You’re talkin’ shit, Dooley.” 

Dooley grabbed Wall’s arm and pulled him close. 

“Come with me quickly” he said and began to drag Wall down the street. 

5 

They arrived a few minutes later at a barn that had a sign on the front. “Arthur P. Dooley: Mortician and Undertaker. Do Not Enter!”  Although it was dark, the big white lettering was pretty easy to read in moonlight. Dooley fumbled with a key and unlocked the barn door. He unengaged the lock and looked at Wall, who looked confused. 

“Do you have matches?” Dooley asked. 

Wall held up his small tinderbox and nodded. 

“Come inside, quick.” Dooley said and disappeared into the barn. Wall hesitated a moment and looked around. He had no idea why someone would follow him here, but he’d been a ranger too long to act otherwise. 

He carefully walked into the barn. 

Dooley waited until he was in all the way and closed the door. 

“Come here with your matches,” Dooley said and walked quickly over to a large heavy blanket covering up something large. On a small table next to it was an oil lamp. He reached out for the tinderbox and Wall handed it to him. Dooley’s hand was shaking so badly, he couldn’t strike the match. 

Wall, not needing to be asked, walked over and took the matches away to light the lamp. 

“Thank you,” Dooley said quietly. 

Wall lit the match and touched it to the wick. He put the glass cover on it and turned the wick up about an inch for maximum light. He was a few feet from the covered object and felt cold. 

“This is where I keep the bodies when they aren’t on display,” Dooley explained. “The blanket slows down the melting a little and it also covers up the box and the smell. You may want to hold your nose or something.” 

“I’ve smelled worse,” Wall said but braced himself anyway. Dooley Pulled the blanket off and there between the two ice blocks was a wooden coffin with the lid off. Inside was Clem, still smiling and the bullet hole in his forehead, looking like a third eye. 

The body was stripped naked to the pants, but there was something not right. 

Most of his torso was missing. 

Wall moved closer to look and the smell indeed was awful, but it didn’t stop him. He turned and grabbed the oil lamp from the small table carefully. 

“Careful, Mr. Wall.” Dooley said. 

“I ain’t an idjit,” Wall said calmly. “Just want to see what the hell this is all about.” 

He moved the lamp closer and saw that almost the entire torso was picked damn near clean. There was almost no blood, as if the body had never had any inside. 

“So why would you do this, Mr. Dooley?  There ain’t nothing but a set of ribs left, This some kind of undertaker thing?” 

“I didn’t do this,” Dooley said. “My young associate Big Pink did this, and he was told to do it. This is why you need to leave.” Wall frowned. 

“What the hell do I tell them folks when I go to claim my bounty on this man?”  Wall was getting angry. 

Dooley shook his head. 

“You’re missing the point, Mr. Wall.” 

Wall stepped backward and put the lamp down. He looked at Dooley. 

“You’re telling me I need to leave right now for no good god damn reason and then you show me that you desecrated this dumb bastard’s corpse and expect me to haul it back like this?” 

“This is what happens to folks who die here, Mr. Wall. This is what always happens to them.” 

“What, somebody dies and they scoop ‘em out like a damn canoe?  That don’t make no sense at all.” 

“Do you want to know why he was smiling when you shot him?” 

“I just told you he was a dumb bastard,” Wall replied. 

“No, no. Think back to before you shot him. What did he say?” 

Wall thought about it. He didn’t like to think about the act of killing, especially folks he’d killed, whether they deserved it or not. It was still taking a life and although Clem’s life wasn’t worth shit, it was still a life. 

Wall had been walking up the street when Clem had come running out of the bar attached to the hotel. 

“Clem Jackson!” Wall had yelled and the stupid son of a bitch stopped dead in his tracks. He looked at Wall for a long time. 

“Come all this way to fetch me, Tommy?” Clem asked, snickering. “All this was just for me?” 

“I can bring you in one of two ways, Clem.” Wall said. “I’d be obliged if you were able to walk to your hanging.” 

“What’s the difference if I’m already a dead man?”

“A hundred dollars,” Wall said flatly, and Clem laughed. 

“Well, damn your hundred dollars. You’re going to have to kill me.” 

“I’d rather not,” Wall said. “I’ll see you get a fair trial.” 

“Trust me Tommy,” Clem said, moving toward Wall. “If you kill me know, you’ll be doing me a favor.” 

Wall pulled his gun and aimed it at Clem. 

“Not another step.” He said. 

Clem smiled and kept walking. 

“Oh, I’ll take all the steps I can get if you’re gonna put me down. And that’s what everybody wants.”

Wall shook his head. 

“Clem?  You best stop coming now, I ain’t foolin’.”

He continued forward. 

“Just do it,” Clem said, smiling. “I got it comin’ and I want it. I want it now!”   

Clem pretended to reach for his gun and Wall shot him right between the eyes.  

The smile never left his face as he fell. As he fell, Wall had noticed that he wasn’t wearing a side holster. He’d shot him unarmed. Normally that would have bothered him, but Clem did in fact have it coming after all. 

Wall looked at Dooley. 

“He said ‘You’d be doing me a favor.’” Dooley said and the words that had been lost on Wall suddenly has some weight. 

“How long had Clem been here before I found him?” Wall asked. 

“About two days,” Dooley said after a pause. “He was living it up the first night. Whores, liquor, the food and the works. All poison.”  Dooley wiped his palms on his suit. “He didn’t want to leave until it was too late. He tried to, but he couldn’t. And then you showed up.”

Wall sighed. 

“Sounds like he was having a good time. Why would he want to leave?” 

“Exactly,” Dooley said. “That’s what you need to ask yourself. Why would he want to leave.” 

Wall was missing something and he hated missing something. He told this to Dooley. Dooley responded with a question. 

“You see any livestock on your way into this town?” 

“No I didn’t. I figured you had a delivery here and there what with all this ice to keep it cool-“ 

“Where’s all this ice coming from?” Dooley asked. His eyes narrowed. “Where’s a dog?  Or a horse?  Or a god damn fly?  For that matter, where’s your horse?” 

Wall’s horse was dead, he knew that much, but that was about it. He couldn’t think of a reason for any of the questions, but just because he couldn’t think of one, didn’t mean there wasn’t one. 

“Mr. Dooley, I think I’m done here. I’ll be leaving in the morning with my claim. I’d appreciate it if you could write something up explaining why his god damn innards are missing.” Wall turned and walked to the barn door. 

Dooley hurried after him. 

“But you have to leave now!” Dooley cried. “Don’t you see?  It’ll be too late in the morning!” 

Wall turned and grabbed Dooley by the jacket. 

“I’ve about had enough of this, Dooley. You talk in circles and you desecrate the dead. If I were still a Texas Ranger, I’d haul you back with Clem and have you strung up for good measure.” 

“This isn’t Texas,” Dooley said. “You’d have no jurisdiction here.” Wall grabbed Dooley by his coat and jerked the man up to his face. 

“There’s an old saying. ‘A Texas Ranger’s jurisdiction is wherever he happens to be.’” With that, he pushed Dooley back and kicked the barn door open. “Have him ready to travel, Dooley. I’ll come for him in the morning.” 

6 

By the time Wall walked back into the hotel, the place was dark and quiet. There was some noise coming from the billiards room next door, but that was to be expected. He had noticed that he couldn’t hear a single cricket on his walk back to the hotel and was going to ask Veronique when he got back upstairs. 

He climbed the stairs two at a time and a little faster as he thought about Veronique. Right now, all he wanted was her. He gave a little distracted laugh and marveled at how often he’d smiled and laughed since he pulled into this town.  

It was her. 

He decided he was going to ask her to come with him.  

Wall reached the top of the stairs and turned right down the hall to his room. He got to the door and pulled his boots off to try and be quiet in case she was still sleeping. He heard her before opening the door and she was crying. He threw the door open, dropped his boots and drew his gun. 

He saw her wide-eyed and sitting on the bed, still naked. She recoiled from Wall as he looked around the room. 

“You all right?” He asked sternly. She gave a little yelp and stared at him. “Is somebody in here?” 

She shook her head slowly ‘no’ and began to cry again. Wall holstered his gun and ran to the bed. 

“What’s wrong darlin’?  I thought someone was in here with you hurtin’ you or somethin’.” 

She lunged into his arms. 

“I thought you left me,” she said through a hail of sobs. She clutched him tightly. “I know it’s stupid because I’m just a whore and all, but…” He grabbed her back and chuckled. 

“I ain’t leavin’ you,” he said. “And you just made askin’ you to come with me a hell of a lot easier.” 

She hugged him tighter and then kissed his neck. She looked up at him. 

“Oh Tom, I love you.” She said, still crying, a serious look on her face. “But I can’t leave.”

Wall looked down at her.

“What do you mean, ‘can’t leave?’”

She sniffed. 

“Darlin’, we can’t ever leave here if we’re gonna be together. We just can’t.” 

Wall kissed her head and stood up. 

“What are you scared of?  Of course we can leave. Anytime we want.”

She pulled a blanket around her and stood up. 

“You don’t understand. I have to stay here. You can go, but I have to stay.” 

Wall folded his arms. 

“Is it Bozen?  You work for him, right?  What’s it gonna take to get you out of here?” 

She shook her head. 

“It’s more than just that,” she said. “A lot more. It’s this town, Tom. It’s…” 

“Poison?”  

She looked shocked. 

“Who told you that?” 

“Dooley. Just showed me a thing or two.”  He walked over to the dresser and turned the fading oil lamp up a little for more light. He started to gather his things. “Like, Clem Jackson, with a lot of his insides gone. He was trying to get me to leave before sunrise. Said the town was poison.”

Veronique walked over to him. 

“It is poison, Tom and it won’t matter if it’s sunrise or not.”  She put a hand on his shoulder. “I want you to stay but only if you love me.” He turned and looked at her. He kissed her forehead. 

“I do love you, which is why we’re both gettin’ the hell out of this place. 

What do you want to bring with you?”

She gave a sob and a sigh. 

“Tom, you don’t understand. I can’t leave.” 

Wall took the bed roll and threw it down. He grabbed Veronique and brought her closer to his face. 

“I’m getting awful tired of being talked to in circles. Tell me what the problem is!” 

As she recoiled from him, the door flew open. Wall snapped his head in the door’s direction and saw Bozen, holding a shotgun aimed right at the two of them. 

“The lady said, she can’t leave and she can’t, Mr. Wall.” Bosen said, smiling a little. “You’d do well to let her loose now.” 

He looked at her and let her go. She backed away from him slowly, turning to Bozen. 

“Don’t hurt him, Stanley. He loves me.” Bosen laughed. 

“That’s because he doesn’t know you very well.” Wall frowned. 

“Now just a damn minute, Bozen!” 

Bosen raised the shotgun and moved closer to Wall. 

“You hold on a minute, son.” Bosen said. “We were gonna let you ride on out of here, but you’re making it awful hard for me to not blow your head off. There’s a lot at work here, Mr. Wall.” 

Wall counted to himself all the way to three before Bozen’s shotgun was close enough. He grabbed the barrel, yanked it hard to one side and pulled it right out of Bozen’s hands. Wall wrapped both hands around the barrel and drove the wooden handle by the trigger into Bozen’s forehead, knocking him down. Wall flipped the gun and cocked it, aiming at Bozen, who was now bleeding from his forehead. 

“Why don’t you start telling me what’s at work here before I lose my sunny disposition,” Wall said coldly. Bosen looked surprised and then he smiled. 

“It’s all about to become clear, Mr. Wall.” Bosen said, holding his head. Wall was about to respond when a sharp blow turned the dark room darker and Wall fell to the floor, unconscious.  

7 

Wall woke up and couldn’t move. He opened his eyes and saw the ceiling of a barn. It hurt his head to move, but he looked from side to side and saw he’d been tied to a wooden table. His feet and hands were lashed to the table, spread out and heavy rope across his chest.  

“Hey!” he yelled out. “You best cut me loose!” 

A moment later, the barn door opened, and he felt a hot rush of air hit him as sunlight poured into the barn. 

“Good morning, Mr. Wall!” Bosen said, walking in slowly. Wall strained to see him and the two figures with him. It was Hank the bartender and Veronique. She moved quickly over to Wall and touched his face. “Tom, I’m so sorry. This is all my fault.” It was Wall’s turn to recoil from her. 

“Why did you hit me?” he asked. 

“I couldn’t let you kill Stanley,” she said sadly. “He’s a no-good bastard, but you can’t just kill him.” 

Wall struggled with his bonds to no avail. He looked at Veronique in pure anger. 

“I thought you loved me,” She smiled sweetly. 

“I do, so very much my love.” She said and stroked his face. “And I always will.” 

He struggled again. Veronique looked at him sadly and moved away from him. 

Hank leaned closer to Bozen. 

“Maybe we shoulda kept Big Pink around a little longer,” he said. Bosen shook his head. 

“Mr. Wall, do you know where you are?” Wall stopped struggling. 

“I reckon I’m in Dooley’s barn with Clem’s body cooling off,” he said. Bosen clapped his hands. 

“Yes, poor Mr. Dooley. We had to let him and his charge go earlier this morning.” Bosen said. 

“That means,” Hank chimed in, “We had them destroyed.” 

“Enough,” Bosen said. “Hank, I want to hear something out of you, I’ll god damn ask for it.” 

Wall swallowed hard. 

“You have put us in a rather strange position, Mr. Wall. We can’t let you leave, but we don’t want to kill you either in spite of your rush to hitting me in the head.” Bosen said. 

“Cut me loose and I’ll do more than hit your head, Bozen.” Wall said through his teeth. 

Bosen laughed. He walked over to Wall and looked down at him. 

“You know what the name Bosen means, Mr. Wall?” Wall didn’t answer. 

“It’s a German word. It means ‘evil.’  I don’t tell you that to scare you or nothing, but it is my name and there are lots of folks that would say it’s appropriate.” 

Wall looked up at him and said nothing. 

“You don’t scare easy and I like that, Mr. Wall. So I’m going to make a deal with you for the sake of your lover over there. Are you listening?”

Wall nodded. 

“Good. Like I said I don’t want to kill you, but I will. I don’t have the burden of feeling bad or guilty about things I have to do, but I don’t like to waste things either.”  He pointed to a different side of the barn. “Your prize, Clem Jackson over there is a perfect example. Dooley showed what’s left of him to you, yes?”

Again, Wall nodded. 

“Did he happen to tell you why?” 

“No he did not.” 

“Food, Mr. Wall. We used him for food.” 

Wall allowed this to sink in and struggled to get free again. Bosen waited for him to stop and when he did, he smiled. 

“Before you go on and start getting the idea that we’re gonna eat you, I want you to consider something. There are a lot of things in this world you don’t know or understand. Folks hate what they don’t understand. You hate rattlesnakes because if you piss them off, they’ll bite and kill you. But they have their purpose. Part of God’s plan. Just like us.”

Wall looked at him with disgust. 

“Eating your own kind is part of ‘God’s plan?’  That’s bullshit.” 

Bosen leaned down to Wall’s face. He saw that Bozen’s eyes weren’t any color at all. They were almost all black. 

“I never said we ate our own kind,” Bosen said. 

“What the hell does that mean?” Wall asked. 

Veronique walked over to Wall carefully. 

“Tom, please listen. We can still be together,” she pleaded. 

“Yes,” Bosen said, still near Wall’s face. “You can still be with her, very much alive and probably pretty happy. But I’m only making this deal once.”

Wall looked at Veronique and then back at Bozen, who looked hungry. “What we are, and by that I mean everyone in this town isn’t as important as what we do.”  Bosen stood back, becoming aware of his drooling. “We take the unsavory elements of society and dispose of them. Like Mr. Jackson. We lie in wait for brigands, thieves, murderers and the like to come to our town and we kill them. And then, because of what we are, we eat them. So we don’t have to go to a big town and kill innocent people. God’s plan.” 

“We aren’t really people,” Veronique said shyly. “But we’re pretty close…and I do love you so.” 

Wall looked at Bosen in horror. 

“Dooley said this town was a trap.” Tom said. He understood what the town was now. “You’re like god damn spiders,” he said. 

Bosen looked at Veronique and smiled. 

“That’s a very good analogy!  I quite like that, Mr. Wall.” 

“You’re cannibals. Monsters!” 

Bozen’s smile faded and he got very close to Wall’s face again. 

“We are Americans, sir!” Bosen snarled. “This country has been very good and kind to us. The least we can do is not eat those who have done us no harm.” 

“When I was a little girl,” Veronique began. “My family were hunted down and slaughtered for what we are. I am the only one in my family still alive. Here, no one tries to kill me.”

Hank stepped forward. 

“It works out, Mr. Wall. Sure, what we do seems gruesome to you. But look what we do. Only criminals. Bad folks, trying to escape the law. We’re doing regular folks a favor.” 

Wall remembered what Clem had said before he shot him in the forehead. 

You’ll be doing me a favor, 

“You see, Mr. Wall. We aren’t evil. Just like a spider isn’t evil for eating bugs and such.” Bosen said. 

“People ain’t bugs,” Wall said, his heart pounding. 

“Aren’t they?” Veronique asked. “You think Clem Jackson wasn’t worse than a bug?” 

Wall struggled again and he was no closer to getting free than he was before. He looked up and closed his eyes. He was angry and scared; two things he knew were a bad combination in his predicament. He tried to calm himself down but couldn’t. 

“Tom, I love you no matter what I am or what you are,” Veronique said, moving closer to him. She stroked his face and he didn’t bother to move away. He knew he was finished. “What we feel for each other is real. You didn’t care that I was a whore. Why should you care now?”

With his eyes still closed, Wall spoke. 

“Please tell me this is a nightmare. Please tell me you ain’t gonna eat me. I can’t believe any of this.” 

She took both of her hands and grabbed his face. 

“Look at me Tom. Look at me!” 

Wall opened his eyes and looked into her grey eyes. Son of bitch, he thought. I do love her. She smiled at him. 

“It’s still just me.” 

Bosen stepped closer. 

“Here’s the deal, Mr. Wall. Stay here with us. Be one of us. Be with Veronique. Help us rid this world of truly bad people.” 

Wall sniffed and opened his eyes. He looked up at Veronique, who was still smiling at him. 

“Or?” 

“Or, we kill you and put you in the next batch of Hank’s wife’s stew.” Bosen said flatly. “We didn’t want it to go like this, I promise you. We don’t want to kill you.” 

“But we’ll damn sure eat ya, son. That’s a damn fact.” Hank added. Veronique shot him a dirty look and Hank put his hands up. “Hey, I’m just sayin’,” 

Bosen put a hand on Veronique’s shoulder. 

“Let’s let him think ‘bout this,” He said to her, but Wall shook his head. 

“She can stay,” Wall said quietly. 

Bosen nodded. 

“We’ll give you a few minutes.” Bosen said and guided Hank out of the barn. 

There was a long time that passed as Wall and Veronique looked at each other. Wall spoke first. 

“Can you let me go?  I’d never come back here, whatever the name of this town is, I’d leave you all be.” 

Veronique shook her head and smiled. 

“No, you wouldn’t Tom. It isn’t in you to leave something like us. Like me.” 

Wall sighed. 

“I reckon you’re right,” he said sadly. “Do you…are you…really a monster?” 

“I am what I am,” she said and bent down to kiss him. He didn’t resist and kissed her back. When she pulled back he was smiling. 

“If it’s gonna be done, I want you to do it, Veronique.” Wall said. “I love you, but I can’t live like this, knowing what it is you folks do. I couldn’t abide by it.” 

“No, please Tom!” she cried. 

“If you have any love at all for me, you do it. Do it now!” Wall yelled. 

Veronique’s body began to shake and Wall watched in horror as to what was happening. Her beautiful porcelain skin began to darken before his eyes and her lovely grey eyes recessed into her skull. The skin on her face seemed to peel back and displayed an odd, exposed skull, nearly ebony in color. Her mouth, her beautiful smile became a jagged maw of sharpened fangs and the thing she was becoming snarled at him. He was terrified beyond belief. He screamed and screamed until everything went black and he felt himself falling. 

8 

The sunlight was the first thing Wall saw when he awoke. He covered his eyes with his arms and turned his head away. He blinked several times and realized he wasn’t in the barn. He was on the ground. He rolled over to see where he was. 

He was in a patch of sand near a river; he heard it trickling in the background. He felt nauseous and retched to one side. After it passed, he sat up and looked around. There was some shade near a tree and his bedroll was underneath the tree. 

He kept looking around as he got to his feet. He looked off into the distance and saw a plume of black smoke. He watched it for a while and walked awkwardly to the tree where his bedroll sat, waiting for him. He sat down and grabbed the roll to open it. Inside were all of his things, the few of them that he had, minus his watch. 

Two items were new however: a canteen full of probably water and a letter. He opened the canteen, sniffed it and drank two large gulps. He held up the letter that read simply, “Tom.” He knew it was from her.  

He tore it open and began to read. 

My Dear Tom, 

I could not bring myself to kill you. I don’t know if you believe me or not, but I do and always will love you. We have burned the town. We have moved on to somewhere you won’t find us and please, do not look for us. We aren’t bad or evil. You should know that by now. 

If they see you coming for us, they will kill you. I won’t be able to stop them next time. 

I wish we could have been together, my love. 

Veronique 

Wall sat and read the letter again for a good long time until he began to weep. 

He put everything back into the bed roll and stood up. He dusted himself off and found that the rope used to tie him to the table in the barn was still tied around his chest. He grabbed it and untied himself from the thick rope. He held it out in front of him. It was a good five feet of rope. 

He looked up at the tree where he stood and saw a thick branch. He started to laugh. 

He had just enough rope to hang himself and he laughed. 

The End

Catch the rest of the story in “Spiders in the Daffodils”