Prairie Gothic Read Online Free PDF Page A

the skull again. Maybe, if this were some prehistoric Cheyenne, he could just replant it.
    â€œWhere did you find this, Hailey?”
    The wolf didn’t make any Lassie-like efforts to lead him where he wanted to go. She just wagged her tail and danced around as if she expected him to toss the skull and involve her in a game of catch. Her games of catch, however, involved darting to within inches of his grasp and then tearing away, holding whatever prize she was currently using to tempt him into trying to catch her. Trying was the key word.
    Mad Dog opened one of the big Velcro pouches in his jacket. The skull was small enough to fit inside. Discovering where Hailey had found it shouldn’t be hard. He was Cheyenne, after all. Well, one-quarter Cheyenne, or, if Englishman’s wife’s genealogical researches were correct, more like one-sixteenth, that quarter being broken into equal parts Cheyenne, Sans Arc, Buffalo Soldier, and Mexican cowboy. Not that his heritage was necessary. Backtracking her through the snow in the sloughs should be simple. There would be no other wolf tracks.
    ***
    Benteen County, Kansas lay smack in the middle of the Bible belt. Fundamentalist Christians were common. Those with liberal interpretations of the holy book—Episcopalians, say—tended to be viewed with suspicion. Non-Christians, like born-again-Cheyenne Mad Dog, were considered aberrations. They were suffered because this was a free nation, tolerant of other views, so long as they were insignificant enough to be crushed the moment they threatened. You couldn’t drive out of Buffalo Springs’ city limits without encountering a pro-life billboard. Many citizens might send contributions in support of Planned Parenthood, but they didn’t mention it over a cup of coffee at Bertha’s Cafe, especially not when steak knives were part of the place settings.
    The sheriff accepted the sad little bundle with a doubly heavy heart. He mourned this small innocent, whose life had ended almost before it began, and he mourned for the community as well. Buffalo Springs wouldn’t rest until someone paid for this. God help the mother, he thought, unless there proved to be a simple explanation for how her child came to be here instead of up the street at Klausen’s Funeral Parlor.
    â€œTwo dead bodies?” the sheriff inquired of Mr. Deffenbach and Mrs. Martin. “One that should be here and isn’t, and one that shouldn’t be and is? Your security is worse than you imagined.”
    â€œI’ll get you the name and address of the man on the front desk last night,” Mrs. Martin offered, shifting blame. Deffenbach just directed his horrified stare at the infant and trailed along as they headed back toward the elevator.
    â€œI’ll need Doc Jones over here right away. Then I’ll want that name, and a chat with anybody else who knows anything about this.”
    The women of the morning quietly watched them pass. Dorothy of the ruby tennies trailed along, silent now, looking faintly ashamed of the way she’d behaved.
    Mrs. Martin hurried ahead to punch for the elevator. Surprisingly, it opened almost immediately.
    â€œFreeze!” a voice shouted from inside. Everyone did pretty much the opposite. A .357 magnum poked cautiously into the hall. “Which of you is the phantom snowballer? Fess up.”
    â€œWynn?” The sheriff’s voice hovered somewhere between outrage and astonishment. “Put that gun away!”
    Before the deputy could obey, the door hissed shut. Wynn frantically pulled his hand back inside. His hand made it, but the .357 stayed behind.
    ***
    Hailey hadn’t chosen her path with Mad Dog’s convenience in mind. Still, he hadn’t been up in the cottonwoods long enough for her to have ranged far. He went around the thick stands of undergrowth that she’d cut through. Her path was easy to pick up again on the other side. She’d come from