CHAPTER SEVEN

 

Ted didn’t want to knock on the mayor’s door. He’d already bothered the poor man enough having interrupted the funeral. Unfortunately, he knew he couldn’t say no to Smythe if he wanted to survive the night, so he trudged through the snow, sighed and rapped hard enough to hurt his knuckles. Damn cold made everything hurt.

A moment later, the door opened and the mayor, clad in long johns, adjusted his spectacles and stared hard at Ted.

“Who are you?”

“Sorry to disturb you, sir.”

“You look familiar. Wait, you were at Mary’s funeral this afternoon.”

“Yes, sir. It was a fine service.”

“Which you and your friend interrupted. Have you no shame?”

“Guess not, ‘cause here I am bugging you again.” Ted didn’t bother to tell the mayor Frank was his brother. He didn’t want to think about his brother right now.

“What do you want?”

“It ain’t what I want that counts, sir. It’s him.” Ted nodded toward the shadows.

Smythe stepped onto the porch. “Hello, Lucas.”

“Shit. How did you come back?”

“Incompetent miners,” Smythe said.

Ted suspected he’d just been insulted, but he stepped back and just hoped the men would ignore him.

“Are the others back, too?”

Smythe shook his head. “I saw to it that they won’t be joining us. I’m in control now.”

“If you came for Mary, you’re too late. She’s dead.”

“I saw the grave. What happened?”

“She died in childbirth.”

“And the baby?”

Mayor Wilkins shook his head.

“In memory of our friendship, I will give you one day to grieve for Mary and your baby.”

“Josephine.”

“One day,” Smythe said again. “Tomorrow evening, I shall return and I shall kill you.”

“You can’t come inside,” Mayor Wilkins said. “All I have to do is stay inside and you can’t get me.”

Smythe laughed. Ted thought it was the most horrible laugh he’d ever heard. It gave him chills.

“I don’t have to come inside, Lucas. If you won’t come out to face me, I’ll simply burn your house down. You’ll die regardless.”

“I killed you and your masters once. I can kill you again.”

Smythe shook his head. “It seems you’re rewriting history in your head again. No matter. Enjoy your final day of life, for tomorrow night you will die.”

Smythe turned and walked away into the snow. Mayor Wilkins watched him go.

Ted shrugged. “Sorry, Mayor,” he said.

Ted tried to catch up to Smythe, but it was nearly impossible to run through the accumulated snow. Smythe waited for him at the edge of the property.

“Did you just apologize to Lucas?” Smythe asked.

“Well, yeah. He’s had a rough day.”

Smythe rolled his eyes.