The Daughter by C.B. Cooper (robert munsch read aloud .TXT) 📕

a pile of clothing that he recognized as belonging to Gracie, it lay ripped, ruined, and ground into the dirt. Next, he seen the rope, hanging from one of the lower branches of the big oak tree, its end swinging in the breeze.
Clutching his bible, Reverend Sharp dismounted for a closer look. The rope had been sawed through and now hung in frays. The ground beneath it, ripped up by hoof prints, beside those, more boot prints. It looked like someone was struggling to keep the horse in place.
With a heavy heart, Reverend Sharp turned to look across the field to the stand of trees, to where Loretta Walker had been laid to rest. Beside it was a fresh mound of dirt. “Oh, my God.” he moaned.
Fighting tears, he made his way to the new grave. Gracie had been like a daughter to him, and now she was gone.
Standing in front of the freshly dug, unmarked grave, he opened the old tattered bible and began to pray, he voice choked with emotion, “Ye, though I walk through the valley…”

“What do you mean she’s not dead!”
Sherriff Kendle shook his head, “No, Reverend, Gracie’s not dead. Ben Walker’s buried in that grave.”
Reverend Sharp had ridden hell bent for leather into town to find out what had happened to Gracie, and this new revelation knocked him for a loop. Sitting down heavily across from the sheriff, he ran a weary hand down his face. “Start at the beginning sheriff. What’s happened, and where is Gracie Walker.”
Sheriff Kendle was pushing sixty. Lean, wiry and tough to the quick, he upheld the law according to the ways of the west. He’d seen some shit in his past, lived a fast and hard life, and he didn’t take crap from anyone. And rarely ever judged a man wrong.
He knew the reverend sitting across from him wasn’t being entirely honest about who he was. He had the hard look of someone who’d seen entirely too much. To much evil, to much strife, to much injustice, and too much blood to have lead a simple life dedicated to the Good Lord.
“The doc’s wife came to fetch me three days ago. Told me there’d been trouble out at the Walker farm and that Gracie was in a bad way.” The sheriff leveled a look at the reverend, “It was worse, much worse than what I could have ever imagined.” he shook his head at the memory. “She’d been beaten, and raped repeatedly by a gang of men, and then shot in the head. The scum had left her for dead, but luckily, the bullet had just grazed her.” The sheriff leaned back in his chair, thumbing the brim of his hat up a notch, he continued. “When I was finally able to question Gracie, she told me Ben had returned home the day before, maybe two days, she wasn’t sure how long she’d been unconscious. She said that night a group of hard cases had shown up at the farm, looking for Ben. Seems he got himself into some trouble with the wrong men before he came home from the war. And he brought that trouble back with him.”
The reverend interrupted, “So where is Gracie now?” he asked impatiently.
The sheriff leaned back in his chair, “I’m getting to that part, Rev.” he assured him. “Doc took me aside and told me the rest of the story. Seems these men stung ol’ Ben up and made him watch as they took turns with Gracie.”
“Reverend, the doc told me that those men… they did horrible, vile things to Gracie, and the, uh…damage, was quite extensive. He didn’t know how she was able to walk, let alone bury her father all by herself and then ride into town.”
Sliding open the bottom drawer of his desk he removed a bottle of whiskey and two shot glasses. He poured two drinks and slid one across the table to Reverend Sharp.
Sharp shook his head, “No thank you, sheriff.”
Kendle smiled sadly, “Suit yourself, I guarentee your gonna need it though.” and he downed his in one gulp. Refilling his glass, he shoved the bottle out of the way. “Me and deputy Thomas took a ride out there and seen their tracks. They were days old. There was no chance of catching up to the sons a bitches.”
The reverend nodded in understanding, “Not to mention, that you didn’t have the jurisdiction to follow them.”
The sheriff gave him a hard look, “Never gave a shit about jurisdiction before, and I ain’t about to start, but unfortunately, like I said, those boys were long gone.”
The reverend smiled grimly, then he asked, “Any idea who the men were, or why they were after Ben?”
“Yep. Gracie found a note in your room from Ben. Seems he didn’t know if he was gonna stick around and he wanted you to know why, and to warn you to be on the look out for some men that might be lookin‘ for him.”
“The letter said him and some other soldiers were put on detail, guarding a shipment of gold, bound for the confederacy. It was suppose to help fund the war for a while longer, only some of the soldiers got greedy. They planned on hijacking their own shipment, make it look like it was the Union what done it. They tried to bring Ben in and he declined, so when they made their play they tried to kill him along with some of the other soldiers to make sure there was no witnesses, but Ben got away after taking a bullet in the hip.”
Reverend Sharp shook his head. Just an hour ago he’d grieved and prayed over Gracie’s grave, only now to find out it was his old friend.
He’d get her home, set her up in his room and get busy rebuilding her home. There were probably a lot of men in town that would be willing to pitch in and help. Everyone one liked Gracie, people felt almost protective of her. The poor girl had lost her ma, then her dirt bag brother had run off, left her to run the farm by herself and now her pa was dead. It wouldn’t be hard to rally up some help.
“Is Gracie still at Doc’s house?”
Kendle nodded towards the reverends glass, “This is where that drink might come in handy, Reverend. Gracie came through the incident with more than just physical wounds. The doc said she was traumatized beyond belief, and that’s why she seemed a bit off. He said men sometimes get like that after war; shell shocked he called it.”
The sheriff downed the rest of the fiery liquid in his glass, then shook his head sadly. “I went and talked to her, Reverend. I wanted to take down an official statement of the events to secure warrants for the trash responsible for her rape and Ben’s death. I think our Gracie did die that night, and what took her place… I don’t even know how to explain it.”
The reverend was confused and said as much.
“That girls hell bent on destruction. Absolute annihilation of the men that killed her pa. It aint as simple as revenge, I’ve seen revenge at work, hell, I’ve felt it and dealt it a time or two myself… but this different. That girls done come uncorked, and now the only thing that drives her is bloodlust.”
The reverend was having a hard time picturing that. His sweet Gracie? But at the same time, if the sheriff said it, it had to be a fact. Sheriff Kendle was known for telling it straight. Men of his ilk weren’t known for mincing words. But still… “Your sure about this, Sheriff?”
“Look reverend, I’ve dealt with all sorts of people in my line of work over the years, crazy, deranged, evil men, but… she scared me. And I don’t scare easy.”
Reverend Sharp knew the sheriff well enough to know that he probably wasn’t exaggerating. He was the ‘call it as he see’s it, tell it like it is’, type of man. “Was she hysterical when you talked to her?” the reverend asked hopefully.
“Nope, she was as calm as a kitten.” Seeing the confused look on the reverends face he added, “Reverend, talking to her, it was like looking into the face of the devil himself, nothing but pure evil. Like I said, she done scared the shit out of me.”
None of this made sense to Sharp. On impulse he grabbed the drink in front of him and tossed it down. Ignoring the sheriffs raised eyebrows, he said, “I need to go see her right away, is she still at Doc’s?”
“Nope.” Kendle once more refilled the reverend’s glass.
“Where is she?”
The sheriff nodded to the full glass and waited. Sharp stared at the sheriff until it became apparent like he wasn’t going to say anything until he had drank it. Sighing, Sharp grabbed by glass and tossed it down.
“She sold the farm to Jacob Miens over at the mercantile. You know he’s been wanting to buy it from Ben for years. Gracie sold it to him at a very fair price, with the stipulation that you got to keep your room in the barn.”
The reverend knew the answer to his question before he even asked it. “Is she going after the men that killed Ben?”
“Yep. She stocked up at the store with everything she needed and took the rest of what Jacob owed her in cash. Now she’s out there somewhere loaded for bear, literally. When I asked Jacob what she had took with her, there was two things that struck me as being peculiar. One of them was a bear trap.” Sheriff Kendle grimaced, “Kinda lets you know where her minds at, don’t it?”
The reverend grunted.
“She also bought enough guns and ammo to outfit a small army. Only problem is, she ain’t got no troops.”
“Give me a minute, would ya sheriff?” the reverend said as he stood and walked towards the door.
“You bet.”
Sheriff Kendle watched the reverend walk out to his horse. The man stood there a long time staring out into nothing. A man fighting with his inner demons. Finally, the reverend bowed his head, and right there, in the middle of the dusty street, he began to pray.
A minute later he reached up and removed his white collar. After studying it for a minute he lifted the flap on his saddle bag and put it inside. Walking back in side, he asked the sheriff, “Will you let my congregation know that I wont be returning. Gracie’s just like a daughter to me, and if she needs help, she’s gonna get it.”
The sheriff studied him a moment. The man that had walked outside and the man that had just returned, seemed to be two different people. His soft, gentle eyes had been replaced with cold, callous ones. The set of his mouth that had always held the hint of a smile had turned hard, and his slumped shouldered stance was now ramrod straight and rigid. His casual stroll was now a confident swagger. Even his voice had changed, it was now rough and harsh.
Finally the sheriff smiled, “I’ve known ever since you showed up in my town, that you weren’t who you claimed to be. But since I hadn’t seen you on any wanted posters, I decided to leave you be. .”
Sharp smiled at the sheriff, he knew that not much slipped by the old dog, “The name’s Sharp. Sam Sharp.
“The Sam Sharp? From down Texas way?”
Sharp nodded, “That’d be me.”
The sheriff let out a long, low whistle, “Holy shit.” then he smiled, “Well now, Gracie