The Tree of Everlasting Sorrow

By Scott Colbert

When the carnival comes to Red Mesa, everyone is excited, especially Ethan and Jake. However when townsfolk start dying mysteriously, and the couple are attacked, they decide to investigate. Joining the carnival as a knife throwing act, they encounter an assortment of human oddities, including 7 foot Siamese twins. When some of the carnival workers are slaughtered, Jake and Ethan are thrown into a nightmare that may prove to be their undoing. Their greatest challenge is, why is the mysterious tree growing whenever anyone dies? With the help of Farnsworth he dwarf, they enter the tree itself and face off against true evil.

• Language: English
• Publisher: scott colbert
• Release date: Mar 23, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224292394

Scott Colbert

Scott Colbert is the author of four novels, as well as 5 collections of essays. In addition to his books, he is the creator and cohost of The Imaginarium With Scott and Todd podcast, now in its tenth year. He resides in Phoenix, AZ with his cat London, and is working on his next novel. 

Book preview

Chapter One

Jake sat at the bar nursing a whiskey, lost in his drunken thoughts, when the swinging doors were thrown open. A tall, obviously drunk stranger walked in and staggered to the bar; he balanced himself next to Jake, though it took several tries to sit on the bar stool. The stranger glanced at Jake and then looked away with the abruptness of a mother catching her son playing with himself.

Jake felt himself blush for no discernable reason and offered to buy him a drink when the bartender approached them warily. Cooper, the proprietor and resident drink slinger, eyed the stranger as he wiped out a glass that looked dirtier than before he’d started cleaning.

You gonna cause me problems again, cocksucker? the barkeep asked him, voice low and vicious.

The stranger looked around dramatically. Cocksucker? Where? Has my luck changed?

Jake choked back a laugh as he sipped the last of his drink and banged the glass on the over-varnished counter that looked to be stained with blood, spilled not all that long ago. Cooper shot Jake a look, who held up the empty glass. One for me and one for my friend here.

Shoulda fucking figured he was your friend, Cooper growled, spitting into the glass he’d been cleaning and wiping again. You two so much as look at another customer crossways, and you’ll get a good ass-whupping before I shoot you myself.

Jake kept the man’s gaze, not backing down, and repeated himself before adding, You going deaf old man? Cooper grabbed Jake’s glass, took a bottle from behind him without looking, and poured the amber liquid into his glass and then into the one he’d been fiddling with. He slammed it down in front of the stranger. As he went to put the bottle away, Jake cleared his throat and motioned for him to keep the bottle on the counter.

Let’s see your money, Cooper said.

Jake reached into his pocket, pulled out some neatly folded, if worn-looking bills, and peeled off three. Keep the change and buy yourself a smile. Cooper’s features softened as he scooped the bills up and walked away.

With the bartender now dealt with, Jake turned to the stranger who had already gulped his drink and motioned for him to follow. Jake grabbed the bottle and followed the stranger to an empty table in the saloon ‘s rear. It was relatively empty since it was a Tuesday evening and just a tad past sunset. On his way through the empty tables and the lone card game, he sat at a side table with only two chairs facing each other. His stomach was in knots, the acid from the lack of food and abundance of alcohol, not to mention the unexpected yearning for the stranger, was not helping his digestion. Jake sat in a chair facing away from the front of the saloon and invited the stranger to take the other.

I’m Jake, he said, pouring a drink into his new friend’s empty spit-shined glass.

The stranger held his glass up in a salute and said, I’m Ethan and much obliged. Jake raised his glass in kind, and they both threw the shots back and simultaneously wiped their mouths with the sleeves of their shirts.  They laughed at the mirrored actions, and Jake poured two more.

Awful brave to be seen with a cocksucker, Ethan said with a slight and somewhat nervous grin. Jake chuckled and resumed his sipping.

Ain’t met a man yet who hasn’t done it a time or twelve.  That made Ethan laugh.

What about you? he asked Jake.

Jake smiled, his eyes already undressing the stranger. Oh, well, I’ve done it at least thirteen times.

Play your cards right, and you can add one more.

I’m not much for cards; I prefer dice. I like how they feel in my hand as I shake them.

Ethan said nothing, but his vast, dopey grin spread.

New in town?

I was passing through on my way to San Francisco, but maybe I’ll stay awhile and see how things pan out.

What do you do for work?

As little as possible, Ethan said. I had an inheritance from my grandmother when she died last winter. I thought I’d explore, see the territories, and live life.

Jake nodded and drank some more, then pushed the bottle to Ethan so he could pour his own, which he was not shy about doing. What about you? What do you do?

I drive stagecoaches; at least, I did until I fell off one while trying to get down and broke my leg. I haven’t done much since then. I have odd jobs here and there, teaching some folks how to read, but nothing I want to do permanently. I'm not sure if I can drive a stagecoach anymore; even horses bother me after a time.

Ethan opened his mouth to say something but lost his voice when he saw a shadow fall over Jake. A massive mountain of a man, all muscle, hair, and hate, stood behind him. As the behemoth reached out to pull Jake from his chair, he leaped from his seat, gun already in hand, turned and cocked it, pointing it at the intruder moving so fast it was almost a blur.

Back away now, or I’ll splatter what little brain matter you have on the walls and floor.

The man didn’t move and puffed his chest out in defiance. Jake shook his head and pressed the barrel against the man’s chest. When he tried to steal Jake’s gun, Ethan stood almost as fast as Jake had and threw a knife at the man, hitting him in the throat. He then grabbed the bottle from the table and nudged Jake to follow him this time, and as they passed the man struggling to breathe and frantically grasping at the knife, Ethan pushed his hands away, wrapped his slender hand around the handle, and pulled it out with no effort. Blood spat out in a geyser as the would-be killer fell to the floor. Ethan bent down, wiped the blood from his blade on the man’s vest, and then began pushing a gape-jawed Jake out of the saloon.  As they moved briskly down the wooden walkway that kept them from stepping into the mud from the recent rain, Cooper ran out of his saloon and dashed after them.

You can’t leave him there! I ain’t cleaning it up!

Jake reached into his pocket, pulled out his thinning wad of money, and peeled off a few more bills, throwing them back, letting Cooper crawl around in the mud for them. Hire someone you whiskey watering down, son of a bitch!

Cooper yelled at them, and both Ethan and Jake gathered they probably wouldn’t be welcome in the saloon for quite a while. That suited them both fine; they could always get a bottle or two at the General Store run by the old Dutch guy from New York. He didn’t care if you licked pig pussy so long as your money was good.

C’mon, I have a room at Diamond’s; we can stay there until he calms down, Ethan said. The street lamps were lit, making it easier to see what was happening around them; though it had gotten late enough, people were filling the streets to commence their nightly activities. Jake followed behind, trying not to stare at Ethan’s ass that bounced like quarters on a well-made bed as he moved through the crowd. Jake bit his lower lip in anticipation, and not even the sight of Ethan’s knife streaked with red could dim his impure thoughts.

They turned down a side street that acted as a shortcut between the main street and the less civilized part of town. Diamond’s, despite the name, catered to a rougher clientele. The kind that paid daily after a trip to the assessor’s office for any gold they may have found. Jake wondered why Ethan would choose to stay here instead of Masterson’s on Main Street, decided it was none of his business, and put the thought out of his mind.

The streetlights here were still out, and there was no sign of anyone lighting them. Jake wasn’t too surprised by this, given the seedy nature of the area.

You still got that pistol? Ethan asked.

Two. Surprised you didn’t see them hanging off my hips, Jake said.

Ethan giggled like a schoolgirl, tossed his long hair back, then looked over his shoulder. As if I was looking at your hips, he said.

They approached Diamond's front doors, and Ethan slowed down and stopped momentarily. Have you been in here before? Ethan asked.

Can’t say I have.

Keep your head low and your eyes lower. Once we get inside, we’ll go to the staircase on the left and then go to the right once we get to the second floor. Three doors down on the right, next to the toilet.

Lucky you, Jake murmured.

Ethan said nothing and opened the door, not holding it for Jake, almost as if he wasn’t aware of him. Jake kept his head and gaze down but still saw the desk clerk glance at them before returning to the paper he was reading. The stairwell was narrow and steep, and the boards were loose on several steps; others were so flimsy that Jake feared he’d put his foot through one.

The gas lights lined the hallway and flickered as they walked to Ethan’s room. It looked like a breeze was blowing, but there was nothing to stir the thin curtain at the end of the corridor, let alone all the flames that dotted the walls. Jake began to get nervous, his stomach doing little flips in the pool of whiskey he’d imbibed. Sweat began to form on his smooth brow, stinging his brown eyes as the salty moisture trickled down. Jake heard footsteps on the threadbare carpet and turned to see who was there, but he saw no one. As he spun forward, he felt hot breath on his neck and jumped. If Ethan noticed this, he said nothing.

Here we are, Ethan said, a little quiver in his voice. He fiddled with the key, trying to get it in the keyhole, as Jake waited. He was about to help Ethan when Jake heard the familiar sound of a door unlocking. Ethan pushed it open and made a grand gesture to Jake to cross the threshold first. He almost ran the other way and couldn’t understand his reluctance. Ethan started to look impatient, which broke Jake's paralysis, and he entered the room.

As Ethan walked in after, Jake heard the door close and lock and felt that breath on his neck again, though he knew it was Ethan’s this time.

Or at least he hoped so.

Chapter Two

The room smelled of tobacco, sweat, and something a bit muskier. Underlying that was an almost too-sweet floral scent that reminded Jake of the small clay pots his mother kept in the house full of dried flowers and herbs. Jake later learned it was called potpourri, but as a child, he remembered it being called Poor Pooey. At least that’s what his father said it was, and he threw them out whenever he found them.

I don’t have any glasses, but we can pass the bottle like heathens if you’re of a mind, Ethan said, sitting on one of two chairs on each side of a tiny bed.

Heathen is my middle name; I’ll have you know, Jake joked and moved his chair to sit closer to Ethan, who handed him the bottle. Jake took a swig, swallowed, and then had another. He bought the bottle and thought it gave him the right to double dip. Ethan didn’t mind, not bothering to wipe off the mouth of the bottle either, before he took a satisfying swig.

Think we ought to worry about some of his kin or friends coming after us? Ethan asked.

Nah, Jake said, I bet they’re glad to be rid of him. It was one awesome display of knife-throwing. I’m guessing it ain’t your first time.

Nah, it wasn’t. When you look and act like me, you learn how to use a weapon quickly. He said this with no little sense of pride but also with much sadness as well. Jake understood. Taking a life wasn’t something that comes easily or goes away quickly.

Ethan, uncomfortable with the subject, went on to something else. Hungry? They serve food downstairs, and it doesn’t all taste like it already came out of you.

Jake laughed and shook his head. Only if you are, I’m content where I am. As he said this, he reached over the table for Ethan’s hand, who hesitated slightly before accepting Jake’s touch. Jake closed his eyes and wondered how long it’d been since he felt the warmth of something other than a grizzled mouth. Most men, and a fair share of women, had no interest in anything other than the goal of release. Ethan's tenderness as he rubbed his thumb over Jake’s fingers was something he hadn’t experienced. Without a word, Ethan stood, still holding Jake’s hand, pivoting to the bed. Jake joined him, and after some shifting and unexpected elbows, they found a comfortable way to lay together.

While the sun was down for the night and the oil in the lamp was on its last few drops, Ethan looked up at Jake and kissed him on the hollow of his neck. Jake groaned and held Ethan tighter, not wanting to let go. He looked down and kissed the top of Ethan’s head, then started stroking his long, mousey blonde hair.

When the lantern surrendered the last light it could give, Ethan and Jake danced in passion’s shadow, then slept in one another’s arms until morning. And though neither said anything, each one felt they were being watched.

Jake woke to the sound of Ethan pissing into the chamber pot. He hadn’t bothered dressing, which suited Jake as he was captivated at how pert those lovely cheeks were. The urge to grab them was overwhelming, yet he managed to control and harness his unbridled lust and waited for Ethan to finish before he stood and made his water.

After he shook the last few drops off, Jake returned to bed and kissed Ethan on his forehead.

What are your plans for the day? Jake asked. Ethan shrugged and ran a finger around Jake’s nipple.

No plans, I never have plans, just go wherever the wind blows me. How about you?

Just call me the wind, Jake said, rolling over onto Ethan, unable to restrain himself anymore.

Ethan writhed underneath, then wiggled his way out, his manhood belying his reticence. Easy scout, I need some fuel to fan the fire. Besides, we have all the time in the world. He could see the disappointment on Jake’s face, but he was a trooper and didn’t push the issue. Instead, they dressed in a relaxed, comfortable silence and headed downstairs for breakfast.

Much like the saloon from the previous night, the dining area was empty, and the duo picked the closest table to them. After a few moments, still in silence, the day manager came over with two cups of coffee so hot you could see the steam drifting to the ceiling and warping the wood.

Cook’s sick, but we got some bread, day-old bear signs, and coffee. Might be able to rustle up some eggs if you want; not like I’m busy or nothing. The eggs were offered in a tone that said, I’m being polite, but don’t dare ask for them.

Just the coffee and bear sign. Oh, and some bread and jam if you have some.

The manager seemed relieved, offered what passed for a smile, and left them to gather their food.

The comfort in their shared silence turned into an awkwardness that neither one could communicate. Each had things on their mind but was too afraid to say, so they kept quiet. Jake ran a hand through his thick black hair in a feeble attempt to tame his bird’s nest. He cleared his throat to say something, picked up his coffee, and blew some of the steam away, wincing at the heat as he sipped. Jesus wept, that’s hot.

Let’s spend the day together if you don’t mind.

Jake gave such a look of surprise and fondness that Ethan was taken back slightly. That was my intention, Jake whispered.

Their food arrived, and Ethan grabbed a bear sign before the manager had time to set the plate down. He shoved the entire bun in his mouth, causing Jake to grimace.

Jake thanked the manager for the service, grabbed a piece of bread, and spread some strawberry jam on top with the back of the spoon. He took a bite and marveled at the fruit's sweet yet tart taste, then took another, bigger bite. Jake went to slather more jam on, and as he stirred the contents in the small ceramic jar, he did a double take, as it looked as if it had turned to blood. The excellent taste in his mouth soon turned to a vile mixture of spoiled produce and copper. He grabbed the stained linen napkin, frayed around the edges, and spat the contents into it, then looked only to see the remnants of the strawberries and bread. He wiped his mouth and looked at Ethan, who was trying not to look alarmed.

Something wrong? he asked Jake with a mouthful of pastry.

Jake shook his head in a way that seemed to say, Yes, something is very fucking wrong, but I’m going to pretend it’s not.

Are you sure? Ethan continued, You nearly knocked me out of the bed a couple of times last night, thrashing around.

I’m fine, and that bed wasn’t the most comfortable. Let’s finish and go for a walk; I could use some fresh air.

Ethan agreed, and they finished off the food and drained their coffee. Ethan reached into his pocket to pay, but Jake put a hand on his arm and said, I got this.

Then I get lunch, Ethan bargained.

Jake agreed, and after paying, they left and stood outside the front doors to decide which way to go. I have a suite over at Masterson’s; let’s go over there first so I can change; there’s still some of that asshole’s blood on my shirt. As they walked down the muddy street they had arrived by, a boy selling newspapers thrust one at Ethan, who took it and handed the kid some loose change.

Thanks, Mister! the kid said, not believing his good fortune that day.

Well, aren’t you a softie? Jake teased.

Not where it counts, Ethan shot back with good humor.

Jake said nothing but smiled and felt a genuine fondness for his new friend. They walked the rest of the way, enjoying the early morning quiet. When they reached the Masterson, Jake walked around the back and up a long flight of stairs, unlocked the door, and stepped inside. As small as Ethan’s room was, Jake’s was the opposite. Large, well-furnished with expensive-looking pieces, not to mention one of the most oversized beds Ethan had seen in his twenty-three years.

Well, shit, Ethan muttered, Why didn’t we just come here instead?

"You mentioned your place