Ralph Compton Comanche Trail Read Online Free Page B

visitor.
    â€œIt vas jus draw from vell,” she said in broken English. “Maybe it still can be cool.” She motioned for him to sit at the table.
    â€œYou’re more likely to feel some breeze if you sit on the side by the curtain,” her husband suggested.
    Just before Thad took his seat, the canvas parted and Kate Two appeared. Her long black hair fell across shoulders that were exposed by a white peasant blouse, her blue eyes quickly settling on the visitor. “Can’t say I’ve seen you here before,” she said. Her voice had a lilt to it, free of her mother’s accent.
    â€œNever been here before,” Taylor said as he sipped at the turnip soup, which proved to be foul-tasting.
    â€œSo, what is it that brings you this way?”
    Taylor pulled the framed photograph from his pocket and pushed it across the table. “I’m looking for this man,” he said.
    He looked so intently at the face of the young woman seated across from him that he didn’t notice the quick exchange of glances between the elder Benders.
    â€œYes, I do recall him,” she said. “He stopped in a while back to water his horse and purchase a jar of Mama’s peaches. A fine old gentleman, he was. We exchanged words for a bit and he seemed seriously interested in taking advantage of my gift.”
    â€œAnd what gift might that be?”
    â€œI, sir, am a spiritualist.” She smiled. “Blessed with the special ability to make contact with the departed.”
    â€œYou mean you talk to dead folks.”
    â€œThat’s exactly right,” she said, ignoring his skeptical tone. “I felt there was someone he wanted me to reach out to, but he said he was already late arriving at his destination and took his leave. I urged him to stop in another time when he was of a mind. It was my opinion I would be seeing him again.
    â€œIs it your fear that he might have run into deadly trouble with Indians? Maybe you’d like me to try to make contact with your friend.”
    â€œI don’t recall saying anything about him being a friend.”
    Kate Bender began wiping crumbs of corn bread from the table and looked across the room at her husband. “Time for you get back to working,” she said. John Bender reached into his trousers pocket, pulled out his watch, and nodded.
    Taylor’s pulse quickened at the brief glimpse of the gold pocket watch. It looked exactly like one his father had carriedfor as long as he could remember. His first thought was to rip it from the old man’s hand and challenge him about the whereabouts of the doctor. Instead he took a deep breath and said, “Mighty nice-looking watch you’re carrying.” He tossed two of Sister’s dimes on the table.
    Without reply, an ashen John Bender turned and was out the door, moving swiftly in the direction of the barn. The two women stood silently, their faces vacant stares.
    â€œFact is, I found that watch to be familiar-looking,” Taylor said, “and it makes me wonder a bit what else might have taken place here when my father visited.”
    Though neither of the women responded, he was overcome by a feeling of uneasiness. The sweltering cabin suddenly felt cold and threatening. Would the old man return from the barn with a gun?
    â€œI reckon I’ll be stopping back again real soon,” he said as he quickly made his way out the door and mounted his horse.
    He nudged Magazine into a trot and as he rode away he could hear a high-pitched voice chanting, “Howdy, howdy, mister. Howdy. Howdy,” then an insane laughter that was now far more chilling than amusing.
    Taylor hurried back toward Thayer as storm clouds rumbled along the horizon. Something, he was certain, was wrong. Some manner of harm had come to his father during his stop at the strange way station he’d just visited.
    He needed to talk with the