Chapter 8 "The Rider Who Fell from Heaven"

From here on this story is for adults only. And this is your trigger warning too. Things are about to heat up and get gritty.

This is the second draft of the 8th chapter of “The Rider Who Fell from Heaven.” It will likely be different from the final version based on additional edits and YOUR INPUT!

On the porch was a dead coyote split from neck to tail down the gut; his innards were splayed out and blood flooded everywhere. Flies had made a home in his entrails. This was no accident. It was a message.

She heard Sera running up behind her, he slowed down, walked up the steps and gently put his ardent hands on her shoulders. Against her better instincts she shrunk a little and wept. This was her home. This was her sanctuary.

“Your window...” he pointed to the main window on the front of the house.

Something was smeared on it. Blood. They walked cautiously as Sera fiddled in his duster pocket. He produced a match and struck it on the side of the house and held it up to read a message written in blood, “SELL THE SCHOOLHOUSE.”

“I’ll deal with this.” Sera turned, and she grabbed him by the arm.

“No. Please…” she looked into his blue eyes, lit with a spark from the match, and pleaded with him, “Don’t go.”

He waved the match to extinguish it, and said gently, “As you wish.”

Sera nudged her to her door, “Let me clean this up before it attracts more attention. You go inside, I’ll take care of it.”

She was happy to leave that task to Sera. And relieved he would stay, even if it was for a moment.

There was protection in the house. She had a double-barrel shotgun her husband owned but she had only fired it once. Jonas wanted to make sure she knew how to use it. The shotgun kicked like a horse and made so much noise she never touched it again. If she had to use it, she knew how, but wasn’t sure she could pull the trigger again.

Once inside, Eliza scuttled to the dining room table and lit the Dietz lantern. She heated water on the stove and picked things up to make sure the place was presentable. It was rare to have guests.

No doubt the Shaws did this. They finally overstepped. Sheriff Corley was looking for something substantial, this had to be enough.

Sera was busy for a while, so she sipped coffee and waited for him in her reading chair. This was where she felt the safest. Her special place. She ran her hand over a copy of “Jane Eyre” on the end table and grabbed one of the horehound drops from a delicate dish. They were supposed to be for congestion, but she just liked snacking on them.

The squeaky rhythm of the water pump echoed from the yard. He splashed water on the window. There was some digging. He walked through the door, removed his hat and duster, and hung them on the coat rack. As he came to her, he brushed his hand through the crown of his head like a comb, fixing his long blond hair the best he could after a long day, and plopped on the couch near her.

Sera pulled in a long breath and let it out as he sank into the couch, “I did my best to clean everything up. I’ll visit the Shaw brothers tomorrow.”

“Thank you, Sera,” she said. She felt foolish for walking away from him earlier. At least he was helping her. He had already done more for her than anyone, including her late husband. “Would you like some coffee?”

“I drink tea, if you have it.”

She looked through her cupboard and found a brick of tea that she bought long ago for guests. “How very British of you. I’ve never met a cowboy who drank tea. Drinking coffee is almost a patriotic duty in America.”

Taking a pinch of the tea, she dropped it in a cup and poured the hot water from the stove over it. She brought it to him with a smile.

“George Washington was a ritual tea drinker,” he said. “Martha recounted his breakfast was three small mush cakes swimming in butter and honey, and three cups of tea without cream. If it was patriotic enough for him, then I’m in good company.” He took the cup from her and set it on a small table beside him to let it steep. “How did you end up in Drythorne Junction?”

She held the coffee cup with both hands and let it warm her. “I traveled out here three years ago from Missouri. My husband, Jonas, was a mining engineer who was contracted to help with some gold prospecting. Drythorne Junction was originally just a sleepy town built to provide support to ranchers, but it grew when they built a train stop. Then someone found gold in the hills and the town exploded.”

Eliza took a sip of the hot coffee and continued, “When we arrived, Jonas bought me the building to create a schoolhouse. We had the money from the bonus they gave him. He told me to build as he dug. I was a teacher and the town needed a school for its kids. Jonas and I had plans to fix it up, but fate had other plans.”

She set the cup down and considered how to proceed before carrying on. Would he believe her?

“Jonas began to act strangely. He couldn’t sleep at night. He started talking to himself. And going for walks alone. He became irritated at every little thing. And I’ll be honest with you, although I don’t want you to judge him by this... he struck me a couple of times. He never did that before coming here.” She could feel the pain bubbling up inside her. Her past came rushing back, along with the confusion and the horror.

“Now look... Jonas was a good husband. But something happened to him here. Something changed him. Twisted him. I don’t know if it was the pressure of finding the gold, which never yielded the fortunes they expected, or if it was this damn town, or something I did...”

She had two long years, since Jonas passed, to play those memories in her mind over and over. She wondered if there was more she could have done for him. A way to support him better or be a better wife. She should have done more.

Sera was staring at the lamp on the dining room table, transfixed, but still nodding his head along with her story.

“He walked out one night and never returned. The sheriff found the next day. Dead in the mountains.”

Sera turned to her, “I’m sorry...”

She was determined to get through this story. Most people in town knew what happened. Talked about it behind her back. Stopped abruptly when she walked into a room. “He left me some money and that broken schoolhouse. I’ve–been doing my best to carry on, but honestly, I don’t have the skill to fix the schoolhouse, and I don’t have the money to pay someone to repair it. But it’s all I have left. If I can’t get that school going, then traveling here, losing Jonas, surviving by myself, all meant nothing.”

She grabbed a handkerchief from the end table next to her and wiped away the tears that were streaming down her face. It was pouring out of her. She had bottled it up for so long.

“None of this is your fault, Eliza. This town is cursed. I saw it myself. Felt it. There is an evil presence that’s affecting everyone here... except maybe you, for some reason. I know you’ve seen it though...”

Eliza was sure that the grief and suffering and oppression had led her to see things that didn’t really exist. She had convinced herself that she was losing her mind. Hearing someone finally confirm what she had seen—finally—felt like being awakened from a dream. “I’ve seen people freeze in place, with horrible scowls on their faces. They say and do things that make no sense. They hurt each other. There’s so much unbridled chaos. Then they wake up and act as if nothing happened. And I’m left to deal with it on my own. It makes me feel so...”

She reached across and put her hand on his. “No one ever leaves here, Sera. Only the dead escape Drythorne Junction.”

Was all of this real or not? None of it made any sense. And what could she do? She was lost. And alone.

Eliza stood up and undid the buttons on her prairie dress. She held her breath as she pulled the dress over her head and laid it on the chair she had been sitting in. She was still wearing her stockings and corset and a thin cotton chemise, but this felt very much like being naked before this unusual man who had dropped into her life.

All she knew was that she didn’t want to be alone tonight. And that she wanted him desperately.

Eliza walked over to Sera and sat down on his lap, pulled his scruffy face to hers, and passionately kissed his full lips.

For the first time since I started this revision I didn’t have extensive rewrites in a chapter. Incidentally, this went faster than the others.

I did have some additions, but not whole scenes.

Once again, fixing their dialog was so much easier than it was initially.

I put a warning on this chapter because it’s available for anyone to read on the internet and the coyote scene is grisly. I’m wondering if I should put something in the book? What do authors do and where do they put a warning.

Frankly, there’s a lot of sex and violence and horror stuff coming from this chapter onward, so buckle up! This ain’t for kids.

If you enjoyed this chapter, please share it!

I want to hear from you! What did you love? What did you hate? Did I miss something? Predictions? Let me know in the comments below! Your input could change the final version of this story.

This is the second draft of the book and will not be the final printed version.

To read from the beginning start here: https://kdhooper.substack.com/publish/post/199260832