Aftermath!

They gave Doc Swallow a decent burial and set fire to what was left of Farkin Plisp, scattering the ashes to the winds. During these rituals, no one spoke until Willoughby croaked out a few halting phrases that were less of a eulogy and more of an apology to his late employer.

With these observances complete, the general mood became less oppressive. Everyone had questions but no one wanted to be the one to open the flood gates.

“The Sheriff.” Jed searched the girls’ faces. Lilimae’s lips trembled. Belle shook her head.

“It wasn’t him. It was Plisp.” She nodded to the patch of scorched dirt where the pyre had been. “Some kind of mind trick. A glamour or some such. Caught us all off guard. Our daddy was never here.”

“Do you think he could still be alive?” Lilimae’s wet eyes brimmed with hope.

Jed’s silence was her answer.

“He could be, couldn’t he, Belle?” Lilimae insisted.

Belle patted her sister’s arm and sent the gunslinger a helpless look.

“If he’s anywhere to be found, Miss Lili, I’ll find him.” Jed turned his hat in his hands. He put it on and went over to Horse to make a show of cinching the saddle that never needed cinching.

“What’s next, Jed?” Willoughby was at his shoulder. “We cain’t go to Tarnation - the dark dust...”

“Fort Knightly,” Jed grunted. “These ladies need to be reunited with their granddaddy. I need to have a word in that old man’s ear too.”

The boy seemed anxious, expecting something more.

“You can come with,” Jed shrugged. “If’n you’ve a mind to.”

Willoughby’s face was awash with relief.

“Now, let’s get that wagon hitched up and on the road.”

***

The long ride to Fort Knightly afforded them the time and opportunity to discuss what had happened. They all rode in the back; Horse, of course, didn’t need to be steered. It fell to Jed to do most of the talking, an arduous task for a man of few words.

“That...thing in the wagon,” Belle prompted to get the ball rolling. She cast a wary eye over her shoulder as though fearing it might still be in there.

Jed explained how the male chameleote had followed their wagon after his bitches had been killed. Jed had connected with it - at first to keep it appeased but then the idea had occurred to him that the beast might prove useful. So he lured it into the back of the wagon and kept it there, feeding it hateful thoughts and images of violence.

So that’s what you were keeping from me! Horse interrupted Jed’s discourse. That’s why I couldn’t reach all of you.

“That was why I insisted the wagon be kept shut. To protect you all and to keep that critter where I wanted it. It’s why I rode alone with it when we came out of Wheelhub. I bonded with it, let it get to know me and then I made that critter so full of hate and anger I knew the first thing it would do would be to attack its tormentor. Farkin Plisp took that connection from me so when the critter was released, it went directly to him. Those things were made for clearing out the natives. You saw the result.”

A momentary silence shuddered through the group as they recalled that horrific scene.

Horse drew the wagon through a landscape ravaged by the dark dust, picking up speed.

“Will it ever be like it was afore, Jed?” Belle looked in sadness at the transformed prairie.

Jed thought of his former friend, whose home world had been devastated by the arrival of the Pioneers.

“There ain’t nothing can be like it was afore,” he concluded, grimly.

Willoughby piped up, full of sudden inspiration.

“The Sheep, Jed! What about the Sheep? If we can find out what Plisp did with all the Sheep he rustled, they’d eat their way through this stuff in no time.”

Belle squeezed Willoughby’s hand.

“Maybe,” said Jed. “If those critters still exist.”

Willoughby was stunned. Belle frowned.

“What do you mean, Jed?”

“I ain’t no expert, Miss Belle. But all those soldiers up at the fort. I’m guessing not all of their, ah, improvements, come from human parts.”

“What?” Willoughby gasped.

“When I was in Tarnation, I saw how they repelled the dark dust, how they manipulated it and used it against folk. I wouldn’t be surprised if they didn’t have something of those critters inside them.”

“Thanks to Gramps,” Lilimae said crossly. “I’m going to give that old buzzard a piece of my mind.”

The others fell silent for a second and then laughter burst from them like a river flooding its banks.

“What?” Lilimae’s cheeks reddened. “What did I say?”