****Part 2
The five peacekeepers dismounted and strode toward what was left of the house. Wood crackled and glowed; embers flared as if trying to re-ignite to finish consuming their meal. The stench of burnt flesh grew stronger with each step, until even the scent of some nearby wildflowers was smothered by the bitter and offensive odor of death. A corpse, blackened and gnarled like a piece of wood, its hands clutching stiffly around a rifle, lay out on the porch. It had to be the owner, Mr. Paul Schorr. There was no sign of his wife Jane, and the men assumed she was somewhere inside the burnt out remains. The couple had worked the land for a little over a year and was just starting to earn a living. Chris had met Paul Schorr in town a few times and had found him easygoing but with a powerful drive to succeed. Both Paul and his wife had attended the last town meeting and had even offered up several suggestions to the hotel and store managers about dumping waste in the back alleys. They were the kind of people every town needed, the backbone that kept a town alive and growing.
The five gunslingers tried to maintain a façade of indifference, hiding the feelings of loathing and revenge that boiled deep inside. These had been good, hard-working people-They didn't deserve this.
Chris released a quivering breath as a distant memory overlapped the present reality causing his breath to catch in his throat.
"There are arrows and pony tracks all over the place," Buck declared, stating the obvious and interrupting Chris' morose musings.
Chris turned to face his old friend, more as an excuse to tear his gaze away from the burnt out home then to answer his statement. Buck was always there to divert his attention, something for which he was extremely grateful. How many times had the gregarious cowboy staved off his inner demons by annoying the hell out of him?
Buck could see the anguish in Chris' blue eyes, and his heart ached for his friend. He knew these fires were raising bitter memories and now with the loss of life... Buck had tried to talk his friend out of coming, telling him they could handle it, but Chris refused. Buck knew that Chris relived that fateful day in his dreams every night. Now it seemed the tormented gunslinger wanted to revive that day to pay penance for not being there to protect his wife and child.
Buck and Chris turned sharply and shook their heads at the sound of JD retching beside the water trough. Ezra had to vacate the immediate area or risk joining the young man in emptying the contents of his stomach. He had seen worse, especially during the war, but it still hadn't hardened his heart or his stomach.
"JD, see to the horses," Chris snapped.
The young easterner straightened, his face a shade paler than before, looking ghostly under his dark hair. His hand trembled as he wiped the spittle from his mouth with his sleeve, and then he dutifully complied with the welcomed order.
"This makes three homes burned out in as many weeks," Vin softly remarked as he scanned the surrounding area.
"And the first people killed," Buck morosely added, the bile threatening to rise in his own throat. "Damn, we should 'ave caught them bastards responsible before this happened." Guilt stabbed at all of them. Whoever was committing these vile acts knew what they were doing and how to avoid the law.
Larabee grunted in acknowledgement as he kept his gaze on Vin, watching as the skilled tracker made a slow concise circle around the front of the home, his sharp blue gaze focused on the ground. Hopefully, Vin would come up with something new.
tbc