Dead Man's Skin

By Rick A. Carroll

Outlaw. Savage. Bounty Hunter.

To the orphans of Las Cruces, he is Father Stone, the man that brings them treats when he rides into town. To Jessie, he is her ticket out of a life she never wanted. Following him into the wasteland, she must learn to survive in the ruins of a shattered world, before it shatters her. If she can learn to master the harsh realities of a dead earth, she might come to understand who she is... and where she comes from.

Dead Man's Skin is the first book of Brimstone.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Rick A. Carroll
• Release date: Nov 10, 2014
• ISBN: 9781310914942

Rick A. Carroll

Rick A. Carroll was born in 1976 in Mobile, Alabama and grew up moving around between Colorado, Montana, and eventually Santa Fe, New Mexico, a place he still considers home. After High School, he traveled most of the United States, and eventually attended Film School in Orlando, Florida. During that time he met and married his wife after two weeks. He currently lives in St. John’s, Newfoundland with his extremely patient wife, extremely loud kids, two irritating cats, and one dumb dog.He can often be found playing video games, making ignorant statements to his wife, trying to act like a responsible adult, and justifying his desire to not ever wear pants. Just recently, he wrote two paragraphs about himself in the third person because he is just that kind of person.

Book preview

Dead Man’s Skin

By Rick A. Carroll

© 2014 Rick A. Carroll

Published by Rick A. Carroll at Smashwords.

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

Edited by Maggie Carroll

Cover Art by Willow D’Arcy

www.rickacarroll.com

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

To my amazing wife Maggie, without whom I’d likely be eating out of trash cans or wandering around Salt Lake City without any pants. Without you, I’d never have known what love can be. Thank you for teaching me what it is to find myself, and for putting up with my bullshit all the times that you should have known better.

To my four wonderful children: Deva, Jason, Thomas, and Amber. I never knew what true happiness was until I looked into each of your eyes. Thank you for letting me be your daddy. It’s been the most wonderful adventure of my life.

And to Joe Pesci. Because, fuck yeah, Joe Pesci.

Pax.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

About the Author

Chapter One

It amazed Jessie how the people of Las Cruces always got the hell out of Stone’s way when he rode into town. He was tall and lean, with the look of a hungry coyote across his mixed-race face, a hard man to whom a smile seemed as unnatural as the snow in summer. The lynchmen let him pass without a fuss but not without worried looks. Stone was the kind of man that made even veterans pause and take stock, a man that carried an air of menace that no finery or washing could ever chase away. A man as hard and mean as the wasteland he called home.

No one crossed Stone, and no one ever stood in his way.

To the orphans of Miss Reed’s house he was Father Stone, and they showed him more love and respect than they ever showed Preacher Willis. Jessie knew it was him when the kids started tripping over each other, rushing to the windows to catch a glimpse. She shooed the young ones away from the windows she’d just finished cleaning, gripping a bucket of wash water with both hands and kicking the door open to the saloon, nearly getting run over by the children for her trouble. She made it to the porch cussing the little rats out something fierce, and then put the bucket down so she could watch Stone herself. Stone paid neither her nor the children any mind as he dismounted his ugly brown horse and tied him to the hitching post.

She leaned against one of the supports to the balcony above, watching as the kids formed a tight half-circle around the man. Stone turned and considered them, his face shadowed by the brim of his hat, before tipping it off his head and placing it atop Abigail’s head, the smallest girl in the crowd. She squealed with excitement as he swept her up into his arms, holding onto the hat with both hands. Stone shifted her to his hip and reached into the pocket of his duster and produced a wax-paper wrapped sweet. Jessie had seen a rattler strike a dog once and it had been the fastest thing she’d ever seen. Abigail snatching that sweet had the snake beat hands down. As she tried to twist her prize free, Stone slid her back to the ground and held his hands out for the rest of the kids. They grabbed and ran, scurrying back up the steps with sweets in hand. Jessie snatched the hat of Abigail’s head as she ran by, flipping it up onto her own head and grinning wide before approaching herself.

He wasn’t a pretty man, but something about him always made her stop and make sure she was still breathing. He was the only man that ever really seemed a man, strong and eternal and too damn mean to know how to fail. She liked the way he looked just off the trail, with his long hair loose under a bandanna, shiny and dark, and his skin dusty from the road. His clothes were a blend of cultures, Confederation linens with Old Earth baubles, a scavenger’s uniform, but he mixed in bits and pieces a Native warrior might wear. Even his weapons were mismatched: an Old Earth pistol on his hip, and twin tomahawks at his back that he’d told her were a gift from an Apache warrior named Redeye.

You got anything in that pocket left for me, old man? she said, trying to keep her smile casual.

Stone looked up at her with his usual half-sneer, as close as his face ever came to a real smile.

Ain’t you too old for candy yet, girl?

Jessie hopped down the steps, standing in front of him. Ain’t no such age. Don’t tell me you don’t sneak one yourself once in a while.

Not a one. He turned and began working the straps of his saddle, and Jessie stepped beside him to help. Mouth like mine wouldn’t know what to do with something sweet in it, just confuse it for next time I have to give some uppity girl a tongue-lashing.

That’s unkind, old man. You ain’t but just got here, and already you’re accusing me of something.

Stone chuckled and slid the saddle to his shoulder. Jessie tugged the blanket free, folding it over an arm and hugging it to her chest. The smell of sweat and horse assaulted her, and she wished like hell she hadn’t just done that. When she looked up from the blanket, though, Stone had his hand extended, a treat held out for her. Jessie grinned, pulling at the paper with her teeth and free hand. It was a piñon chew, and when she popped it in her mouth, it melted on her tongue.

Awful quiet around here today, Stone said as they walked into the saloon. A few of the older girls, still half-dressed while getting ready for the night, watched from the balcony over the floor.

"All the boys are still out digging a ditch for Mr. Anderson. They got caught pinching churros from his wife’s kitchen, so Miss Reed done put them to work to make up for it."

Uh-huh, Stone said. A couple of the older girls rushed down the stairs, excitedly hugging and kissing Stone and each walking away with a sweet of her own. Most of the boys around here are about as yellow as they come, way too cowardly to go nicking treats from the Andersons. Anderson himself may the quiet type, but the missus has one hell of a temper and may just be half bulldog. Sounds queer for them to come up with this caper on their own.

Jessie gave him her best look of wide-eyed innocence. Her love of chrurros was well known. Stone placed his saddle on the table and fixed her a stare so hard she actually took a step back.

They… might have had some encouragement.

Uh-huh. Stone shook his head and slipped off his duster. Jessie folded the blanket over the saddle, then sat in a chair at the table. From upstairs she could hear the girls passing word of his arrival. You told Miss Reed about your hand in this, right?

Jessie swallowed. It is surely my intent to do as such when she ain’t so busy.

Good girl, Stone said before hanging his coat on a rack and sliding the bandana from his hair. And try not to let your face get stuck that way. I’ve seen men sucking on frogs who seemed to enjoy it better than you do right now.

Jessie made a face. What in the hell would possess someone to suck on a frog?

Stone’s response was cut off by Miss Reed, coming down the stairs.

Jedidiah! By the good Lord, I didn’t think we’d see you again until winter, she said, the skirt of her dress lifted up so she didn’t slip as she hurried down the stairs. The matron of the house dressed as fine as anyone Jessie had ever seen, all frills and lace, but her makeup wasn’t done yet and none of her jewelry was in place. Miss Reed didn’t interrupt putting her face on for many things, but Stone’s arrival was certainly one of them.

I hadn’t yet made it to Abilene before someone caught up with me, Stone said, moving to the bottom of the stairs and accepting a rather prim hug from Miss Reed. Got me some business up north that needs doing, so Abilene will have to wait till the spring.

Well, that just means you can winter here, with family, Miss Reed said, and then arched an eyebrow that was only half penciled in. How far north?

Not so far, ma’am. Past Old ‘Burque, not quite to Santa Fe. He extended his arm and guided Miss Reed to the table, pulling out a chair for her.

Miss Reed make a tisking noise as she sat. You and those redskins again, Jedidiah. I swear they will be the death of you yet. All we ever hear about these days is how the Apache and Navajo are fighting it out up north, and here you are, getting involved with them.

Stone shook his head. Ain’t got no business with either tribe, just out to one of the pueblos.

Miss Reed looked him up and down. Don’t you dare come home to me in a box.

I reckon someday I likely will, ma’am, Stone said. But I ain’t got no reason to stick my head in their war, and the money ain’t good enough for me to make it my concern.

They tried to hire you?

Stone shrugged. Old Redeye’s son took over the tribe when his daddy got shot out in Sierra Vista. He knew his pappy used to hire me for whatnot and thought he’d make me an offer I couldn’t refuse. Boy should know better than to try and buy a man’s death.

Spoken like a true businessman, Jedidiah, Miss Reed said with a roll of her eyes. Heaven send they don’t think too hard on how much it would take before you do get involved.

He better get himself a damn big piggy bank then, Stone said. We’ll see what happens when that day comes.

Miss Reed couldn’t help but laugh. It’s good to see you again, Jedidiah.

It’s good to be seen, ma’am, Stone said. And don’t you fret none about me. I’m welcome in the pueblos, more so than they like me around here. Ain’t nothing out there going to get me just yet.

Miss Reed nodded, and then spotted Jessie sitting across the table. Is there something you need, Jessica? Are you finished with your chores?

No ma’am, Jessie said, standing up. I was just gettin’ done when Stone came ridin’ up.

Getting, Jessica, Miss Reed said. The word is getting. Enunciate, young lady. You are not some common saloon girl.

Jessie motioned at the saloon around her. Actually, that’s exactly what I am.

Miss Reed frowned, but kept her tongue. Stone outright glared at her, though. Jessie swallowed hard. So, how long you into town for old man?

Jessica!

Just the night, Stone said before standing and snatching his hat off her head, eyeing her hard. Something up your craw, girl?

No, Father Stone, Jessie said, dropping her head and knowing she had pushed it too far. Sorry, Miss Reed.

Run along, Jessica, Miss Reed said. Let me get a hot meal in Jedidiah before the menfolk come looking for company.

Yes ma’am, she said, backing away. See ya, Stone.

Stone nodded to her as she left, hanging his hat on the peg above his coat. Jessie turned and left the room, waving at Stone before going out for her bucket of wash water. Seeing him always brought out the smile in her, and even when scolded it was hard to get rid of. Seeing him this time brought on an entirely new enthusiasm within her. As she dragged the bucket around behind the building, a plan started to take shape.

**

Miss Reed talked with Father Stone well into the night, long after all the kids were tucked away and the older girls came down to the saloon floor the ply their trade. As a child, she’d sometimes wander upstairs to see what the older girls did to earn money. That ended when a scavenger too long in the desert grabbed hold of her and offered to buy her time. It had taken three of the boys to pry the man off her. She had received the scolding of her lifetime and had her bottom paddled red, but aside from not being able to sit the rest of the night she’d come through unharmed. After taking her punishment, Miss Reed had let Jessie sleep in her giant bed, keeping her safe from the ill intentions of drunken men with too much money.

She was getting to the age where she’d either have to take up the trade or leave Miss Reed’s house. No one had told her as much, but Jessie knew it was coming. Two years ago, Miss Reed sent off her best friend, Sienna Miller, to some man in Sierra Vista. For more than ten years, she and Sienna had been as close to sisters as she had ever known, and then Miss Reed packed her off to marry a soldier so far away that the number of miles seemed impossible. Jessie had gotten post for a year, even a fancy invitation to the wedding, but she’d never replied. Sienna had been a hard loss, and correspondence hurt more than not talking at all. Sienna had written about how much she was looking forward to the wedding, but Jessie was under no illusions of what had happened. Miss Reed had whored Sienna off to one of the weed-smokers out west, and she was probably either dead or buried under children. Either way, she didn’t have time for Jessie anymore.

Sienna had been a lesson Jessie learned well. She refused to let it happen to her.

Her only other option was to marry local, one of the boys in Las Cruces, but the notion of being a toothless chilé farmer’s wife wasn’t any more appealing than whoring. It was all the same in the end, only one was to the same man night after night. She was smarter than half the people she knew, though according to Miss Reed she was only half as smart as she thought she was. The last thing she wanted was to waste what smarts the Lord put in her head as the wife of some illiterate, smelly drunkard. She used to dream of going off to the University in Abilene, but the only way she’d earn the dollars to learn was whoring, and being a whore would certainly bar her from entrance. The University rarely took women at all, and only rich city women at that. A whore wouldn’t be allowed to learn, only to service.

Long into the night, when the sounds of the house began to quiet down, Jessie slipped out of bed and snuck past the sleeping children to the stairs beyond. She closed her eyes and let her ears take over, shutting out the light of the candle and letting the snores of the children and vibrations in the floor fill her senses. The sounds mixed and collided, echoing through the walls, across dancing girls and laughing men before finding their way back to her ears, carrying with them a picture in her mind’s eye. It was a trick she’d always been able to do, though she could barely find the words to describe it half the time. If she could hear something, she could see it in her head, though see wasn’t exactly the right word. The sound turned into a picture, though