Sheep's Clothing by Elizabeth Einspanier Read Free Book Online

though... nasty stuff for people like me.”
                  “What do you mean, people like you?” I was quite certain he didn’t mean Indians or half-breeds.
                  “Later. The second thing he takes with him everywhere is a few pine boxes lined with dirt.”
                  “Why would he lug dirt around with him?” I asked. “You can find that anywhere.”
                  “This here dirt is from his homeland. He needs it to sleep on—don’t ask why, I’ll tell ya later. Anyway, he has DuPont put them in out-of-the-way places—lairs, like—so he has a few hidey-holes in a town.”
                  I opened my mouth to ask further questions, but he waved me into silence.
                  “Later. Now hush up, so DuPont don’t hear us.”
                  I hushed up, and we made our way forward. He angled us towards the stable where people put up their horses during an overnight stay and, on edge, I kept my eyes and ears open for the haunted-looking man I now knew to be named DuPont. All I knew of his combat ability was that he knew how to stick a man in the ribs, and that was frankly enough for me.
                  “I don’t see the carriage anywhere,” I said in a low voice.
                  “It’s probably around back. Judging by the racket in the stable, though, Russeau’s horses are put in there with the others.”
                  I listened; there was a bit of a racket going on in there that reminded me of a night during my journey to Salvation when a coyote had gotten in among the horses. The smell of a predator by itself was enough to get the animals riled up, which alerted the men who were on watch. Other horses typically didn’t engender that sort of a reaction, especially in trained horses who were used to mixed company.
                  “Come on,” Wolf said. “I’ll show ya. Then we’re going looking for that carriage of his.”
                  When we got into the stable enclosure, the first thing I noticed was a foul, sulfurous odor that I could not entirely attribute to the presence of horse dung. There were a few horses in the near end of the enclosure, and by their snorting and stamping they sounded quite upset about something. One of them let out a low whinny and shied away as Wolf passed close by on his way to the back. I followed him, making sure not to get too close to any of the riled horses lest one break free and trample me.
                  Towards the rear of the stable, the foul smell grew stronger, and the bit of agate around my neck—which I had almost forgotten was still there—started to grow cold, just as it had done when Russeau’s gaze had fallen on me before.
                  There, at the back, were four massive black horses, bigger than draft horses, their noses in the feed trough. The closest one raised its head to regard us, and its eyes suddenly flashed brilliant red, as if lit from within by unholy fire. I froze in shock.
                  “Wolf—?” I choked out.
                  “I see ‘em,” he said. “The only type of horses that’d be willing to cart his undead carcass around ain’t what ya’d call normal. Ya see DuPont anywhere?”
                  I tore my eyes away from the hellish horses and glanced around, my thoughts spinning. I didn’t see DuPont nearby, and relaxed marginally.
                  “Not in the stable,” I said. “What do you mean by ‘undead’?”
                  “That’s sumthin’ that’s hard to explain to a medical man like ya. It’s someone who’s dead but still moving around, animated by an evil spirit.”
                  “But that’s impossib—”
                  “Oh, hush up!” he snapped. “There’s a lot of impossible things around here,