Chapter Eleven

 

A LITTLE before eight o’clock, Usher’s cell phone rang. He limped into the kitchen where he’d left it on the table and flipped it open.

“Hello?”

“Usher,” a woman’s teary voice burst from the phone, “can you come and get me?”

“Hanna?” An icy spear of unease stabbed Usher through the gut. “What’s wrong? Where’s Denver?”

Tears of desperation filled Hanna’s voice. “He’s….”

Fear replaced Usher’s unease, and the hairs on his nape stood up. “Hanna? Where is Denver? Put him on the phone.”

“Denver is—” A sob floated over the airwaves. “Denver is dead.”

“What?” Usher’s knees gave out, and he collapsed into a chair.

“We were in the barn making sure the heaters were on and that the cows were all right,” she whispered. “This… this thing burst into the barn and slaughtered half a dozen cows. I swear it’s a werewolf, Usher! When Denver came out of the office with a shotgun, the creature grabbed his arm and ripped it from his body.”

“How did you get away?”

“I dropped through the trapdoor in the back of the barn. I’m hiding in the grain bin. I remembered I had my cell phone and called you.”

“Call the police!”

“I did, but the dispatcher said the sheriff and all the deputies are out on accident calls.”

With his legs quivering, Usher rose and flipped on the back porch light. Snow fell so heavily he couldn’t see beyond the edge of the top step.

“I’m on my way, Hanna.”

“Usher, I don’t know where that thing went,” she said, lowering her voice. “The cows are bawling upstairs, so I can’t hear anything. Be careful, and bring weapons.”

“Call me should you need to,” he replied, his heart thundering painfully. “The snow is accumulating fast, so it might take time for me to reach you.”

“Okay.” She hung up.

“What’s wrong?” Jarreth asked from the doorway.

“Remember how you reacted to my tale about the werewolf?”

Jarreth regarded him skeptically, his eyes wide and appraising.

“Well, it attacked Hanna’s cattle in the milking parlor and killed her farmhand.”

“Mother of mercy!” Jarreth said.

Usher pulled a set of keys from his pants pocket and tossed them to his friend. “Get the two shotguns out of the gun safe in my bedroom. There’s a .12 gauge and a .16 gauge. Make sure you get plenty of ammo, including a dozen or so bullets for my .45 too.”

“I’m going with you,” said Jarreth.

“No, your mother needs you, so just stay here.” Slipping his feet into his boots, Usher paused and looked at Jarreth. “I mean it. Stay here.”

“Fuck that. I’m going with you, and from what you’ve just told me, we don’t have time to debate it.” Jarreth turned and disappeared down the hall.

“Shit!” With his hands shaking, Usher laced his boots and tied them securely.

Fear smothered him. His encounter with the werewolf earlier that evening had left him scared shitless to face it again, but he couldn’t leave Hanna over there alone. She was one of the true friends he had in Stone Trail, and the best neighbor anyone could ever want too. With Bill gone, and now Denver, he could only imagine how terrified she was right now.

Jarreth returned to the kitchen. “The guns are by the front door and I have the ammo in my coat pockets.”

After he shrugged into his coat, Usher nodded and put his cell in his inner pocket. “Let’s go.”

Brock appeared next to Jarreth and wagged his tail. He whined and then woofed softly as if to say “I want to help too.”

“Oh, no you don’t. You’re staying here, pal,” said Usher. “You’ve already had all the fun you’re going to have for one night.”

 

 

JARRETH drove his Dodge along the snow-covered highway. Usher wanted to take the road cutting through the woods, but he knew the snow would be too deep. He sat in the passenger seat, worrying that the werewolf was still in Hanna’s barn and that it would find her. 

Usher looked askance at his friend. If something happens to Jarreth, I won’t be able to live with myself.

The Dodge’s headlights did little to slice through the heavy snow. Between the darkness, the snowfall, and the wind blowing it in all directions, Usher wondered how Jarreth could see anything. Lights approached from the oncoming traffic lane.

“Hell,” said Jarreth. “That looks like a plow truck. I’m afraid to get over too far and end up in the ditch.” He pulled the Dodge over and stopped.

The snowplow plodded through, its engine rumbling loudly in the snow-filled air. The truck’s tires jingled merrily with chains as it passed. After the snowplow drove by, Jarreth edged the Dodge through the snow and into the cleared lane.

“Well, this is a little good luck. Maybe we’ll have more good luck at Hanna’s place too,” he said.

“I hope you’re right,” Usher replied. He realized he was clenching his hands, and uncurled them, his knuckles protesting. “Hanna is a good friend. I’ll freak if something has happened to her.”

“Think positive.”

“I’m trying.” Usher sighed worriedly. “It always seems like I lose people I care about.” Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Jarreth glance over at him.

“How so?”

“My parents died when I was in my early twenties, my sister moved away with her husband, and my… uh… my—”

“Your life partner?” Jarreth supplied. He shifted the Dodge into third gear and cruised carefully along the plowed strip of road.

“Yes, Zander too.”

“I think that’s the first time you’ve even mentioned his name.”

“It hurts too much to think about him, let alone talk about him.”

Jarreth whistled low with sympathy. “Man, breakups are always hard and they’re often ugly too.”

“Zander didn’t leave me for someone else,” Usher told him. He stared through the windshield at the blanket of snow falling relentlessly. “We were at a Western bar one night. There was a mechanical bull-riding contest with a purse of two grand, so the competition was fierce.” Emotion clenched his throat and tears pricked the back of his eyes. “One jerk was really drunk and rowdy that night, and he was pissed that a ‘gay cowboy’ was giving him a run for his money.”

“This story doesn’t have a happy ending, does it?” Jarreth asked softly.

Usher pointed at the turn-off for Hanna’s farm. “When it came down to the last round, Zander and this guy were the last two riders. The judges had Zander ride first. His opponent flipped the mechanical bull on professional mode, and since Zander wasn’t expecting the sudden change in its movements, he was thrown off. Despite the padded floor, he landed in an awkward manner and it snapped his neck, killing him instantly.”

“Holy hell,” Jarreth exclaimed. “What happened? Don’t tell me that jerk got away with it.”

Shaking his head, Usher replied, “No, he was prosecuted and is serving time, but his family said they’d get even with me for putting him in jail.”

“Did they?” Jarreth slowed the Dodge and fought it through a snow drift lining the edge of the lane. “Get even, I mean.”

“No, but they live in Waylon, which is three hours away. If I lived in the same town, I figure I’d have trouble from them.”

Jarreth slowed at the Tope Farm’s gate. “I’m so sorry, Usher.”

“It’s all water under the bridge now. Zander’s gone and I’m alone.” He heard Jarreth’s sharp intake of breath over the blasting heater. He looked at him quickly. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that to come out like that.”

“I knew what you meant, so don’t worry about it. Really.” Parking about fifty yards away from the barn, Jarreth added, “With the wind howling like it is, I think we should park here and walk. I’d hate for the werewolf—” He shivered. “To hear us coming.”

“I know you think this is crazy, but this thing is real.” Usher grasped one of the shotguns and held his other hand out. “Give me the shells for the .16 gauge.”

Jarreth passed him the shells and then shut off the truck’s lights and engine. “Let’s go.”

When Usher opened the door and stepped into the wind, the sharpness of it ripped his breath away. He hated to do it, but he removed his thick gloves so he could pull the trigger if he needed to and stuffed them into one of his coat pockets. He motioned for Jarreth to follow him, and together they started down the side lane to the barn. Snow stung Usher’s face and eyes. He blinked against it, but the wind ravaged everything, driving the flakes into every nook and cranny. The new snow reached above his ankles, and drifts lined the fence and along one bank.

Lights glowed in the barn’s lower windows. Cows bawled and mooed, their calls full of anxiety and fear. A gust of wind whipped around the lower corner of the building. It caught the top of a snowdrift and sprayed Usher with needle-like ice fragments. He turned away from the sparkling dust just as it caught Jarreth in the face, who gasped, cringing.

Usher reached for the door and slowly opened it. Warmth billowed out of the barn, followed by the odors of cow shit and antiseptic, mixed with something coppery and foreign that prompted Usher’s stomach to lurch. He peeked inside, sliding his gaze from one side of the milking parlor to the other. The cows stood in their stanchions, their eyes wild and rolling, bodies trembling, feet stomping. One cow near the door saw him and mooed loudly.

“See anything?” Jarreth whispered so softly Usher barely heard him.

He shook his head, keeping his gaze trained on the milking area. Fear pounded through his body. I don’t know if I’ll react quick enough to even shoot the creature if it leaps out from somewhere. Hell, for all I know I might truly need silver bullets to kill it.

Luckily, he’d helped Hanna from time to time, so he knew where the grain bins were located. With his legs trembling, he led the way down the concrete walkway between the stanchions and to the door that led into the office. There, on the far end, the bodies of six cows lay torn and ripped, their blood bathing the floor. Pieces of fur and meat lay scattered on the concrete and stuck to the wall. One cow’s guts pooled on the floor in front of its belly, another cow rested on its side with its throat ripped out. The odor of blood, feces, and milk gagged Usher. He glanced at Jarreth, who held his hand over his nose.

Usher pointed to the door. He rounded the low block wall at the end and stumbled over a pair of boots. He righted himself, turned and cried out at the sight before him.

On the floor, his torso turned to the right, and his hips and legs turned to the left, lay Denver, Hanna’s hired hand. Missing an arm, the coat and shirt in tatters around the hole, the man gazed sightlessly at the rafters above them, his face contorted in an expression of pain and fear. Across the end walkway against the base of the wall lay Denver’s arm. Blood pooled around the torn end of it.

“Werewolves are supposed to be people, right?” Usher whispered.

“That’s what the stories say,” replied Jarreth just as softly.

“Then not only are we dealing with a monster, but a murderer as well.” A deep-rooted shiver passed through Usher as he remembered something. “And the other day, when we found the tracks of melting snow in the house—”

“The werewolf had entered and then left as its way to scare the hell out of you,” Jarreth finished.

“Okay, that really freaks me out. Now I’ll lock up my house during the day too.” Usher grasped the doorknob and opened the door to enter a dimly lit hallway leading into a storage room where two bins held feed.

In the storage room, Usher crossed to the first bin and opened it to find corn and a big rat scurrying around. He quietly lowered the lid and moved to the second one, hefting the half lid up to peer inside it. The sweet aroma of its contents permeated his nose. Hanna squealed and cowered in the corner.

“Hey, it’s okay, Hanna. It’s just me,” Usher whispered. He glanced back at Jarreth, who stood with the door cracked open and kept watch through it with the .12 gauge clutched in both hands. “Come on. Let’s get you out of there.”

“Oh, Usher,” Hanna cried softly. “I’m so glad to see you.”

“What made you think of hiding in the grain bin?” he asked as he brushed grains, crushed corn and crystallized bits of molasses from Hanna’s clothes.

“I thought maybe the grain and molasses would help disguise my scent.” She hugged him tightly, her body trembling so hard Usher thought she might rattle apart.

“Good thinking,” he said. “Do you know if the werewolf has left?”

She shook her head. “I have no idea.”

“Everything’s clear,” said Jarreth. “Let’s get her out of here while we can.”

Usher made Hanna stay behind him as he walked quickly and quietly down the hall, trailing Jarreth. His friend paused at the door opening into the milking parlor, looked to the left and right, and then waved at them to follow.

Upon seeing Denver and the slain cows, Hanna gasped. “Oh Lord in heaven!”

“Don’t look at him or the cows,” Usher commanded. “Focus on the door across the milking parlor and just follow Jarreth.”

She nodded, her mouth a thin, gray line, her eyes wide and glassy with fear and revulsion.

They reached the far door, and Jarreth opened it to swirling snow and biting wind. The livestock bellowed and stomped behind them.

“What do I do about my milk cows?” Hanna asked.

“I don’t think the creature is interested in the cows anymore,” Usher soothed her. “It seems like it has gone.” He glanced around, his nerves singing high soprano. All he wanted to do was reach the truck and get the hell away from there.

Jarreth gazed back at them. “Come on. It’s too damn dark with too much snow flying around to tell whether or not it’s safe to step out there, so we’ll have to chance it.”

Clutching his shotgun in one hand, Usher took Hanna’s hand in his free one. “Stay close to me and keep your eyes on the Dodge parked up the side lane, all right?”

She nodded, her gaze full of trepidation.

“One, two,” Jarreth pushed the door wide, “three—now!”

They pushed out into the darkness. The wind tore at Usher’s coat and hat, shoving its icy fingers into his eyes, nose and ears. He squinted against the driving flakes, tugging Hanna steadily along behind him. The snow sucked at his boots, and they both slipped a couple of times, but they managed to climb the lane and reach the truck. He opened the door, helped Hanna into the back of the extended cab, and quietly shut the door before jumping in shotgun and shutting his door too.

Jarreth clambered into the driver’s seat and passed Usher his weapon. Once the engine started, he backed up the lane and turned the Dodge around.

“Where to, Hanna?” asked Usher. He turned in the seat to look at her. “If you don’t have a place to stay, you know you’re welcome at my place.”

“Or mine, for that matter,” Jarreth chimed in.

“Take me to The Cannonball,” she stated as tears trickled down her cheeks. “Jess will let me stay with her and the kids tonight.”

Usher reached over the seat, took Hanna’s hand and squeezed it to reassure her. “Everything will be all right.”

“I hope so,” she said.

Releasing her hand, Usher faced forward as Jarreth navigated the snowy drive. What if I’m wrong? What if we can’t defeat this thing, and worse, what if it’s someone who lives amongst us here in Stone Trail?