Ralph Compton Comanche Trail Read Online Free PDF Page B

folks took their leave in a bit of a hurry.” He pointed toward the shelf where rows of Kate Bender’s canning jars were still in place. “Me, if I’m planning to move on, I’d figure on taking some food along.”
    Taylor called out from the opposite side of the curtain, “Something here you need to see, Marshal.” He’d pushed the bed aside and was standing over a hole that led to what appeared to be a cellar. A ladder disappeared into the darkness below.
    â€œI seen a lantern out in the barn,” Barclay said.
    â€œGo fetch it,” the marshal said.
    Even before the deputy returned, Taylor was aware of the metallic odor he’d been unable to recognize on his earlier visit. Now, though, it was stronger, more cloying. Once he and the marshal had made their way into the cramped cellar, the stench was so strong that both men placed a forearm against their faces. Thorntree was holding the lantern above his head when the preacher joined them. The three stood shoulder to shoulder, filling the small earthen room.
    â€œI know that smell all too well,” Brother Winfrey said. “It’s not one you’ll likely ever forget.”
    Taylor looked at the preacher. “From your soldiering days?”
    He nodded, silently pointing to dark spots on the wall and floor that were visible even in the lantern’s faint glow. “The Devil’s work has been done in this godforsaken hole,” he whispered. “Folks have died here.”
    Bile rose in Taylor’s throat as he hurried up the ladder and away from the cabin. Outside, hands against his knees, he heaved as the muscles of his stomach knotted and the ground around him spun.
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    The Weatherby twins had made an even more chilling discovery. Their boots caked with doughy mud, their faces suddenly white, they urged the marshal to follow them to the orchard located no more than a hundred yards from the cabin. “We was trying to follow the tracks of their wagon,” Jason said, “when we come upon something strange.”
    â€œYessir, mighty strange,” Mason added breathlessly.
    The deluge had washed soil away, baring the roots of many of the trees. Pears and peaches lay scattered, knocked from limbs by the pelting rains. In several places there were sunken areas where loose dirt had settled.
    â€œRight yonder.” Jason pointed toward one of the indentations. A decaying arm reached up from a shallow grave, its discolored hand wrapped into a clenched fist.
    Brother Winfrey fell to his knees and began to pray.
    The marshal tugged his hat tighter as he began to count the number of low spots that were visible. “Looks like we’re gonna be needing us some help,” he said. He helped the preacher to his feet and instructed him to ride back to Thayer. “Gather up some folks for digging. And alert Doc Libby we’ll need his wagon and some burlap for wrapping soon as he can get it here.”
    Taylor was already walking toward the barn to see what tools old man Bender might have left behind.
    In the following days word spread quickly of the horrific discovery on the Benders’ place. In addition to a dozen men from Thayer who had returned with Brother Winfrey, neighboring settlers began arriving on horseback. Some came by wagon, bringing picnic baskets and spreading blankets wherever they could find a dry spot that afforded a good view of the gruesome drama being played out.
    Joining those who returned with the preacher was Ashley Ambrose, editor of the
Thayer Observer
, who mingled among the onlookers and workers to gather information for a story he was sure would be unlike any he’d ever written.
    By the end of the third day, ten bodies had been exhumed. Among them was that of Dr. Taylor, the back of his skull shattered and his throat slashed. In another grave, workers found a man an onlooker identified as George Loncher, who had last been