《CULL》


 1. The Desert Nymph

    1.


    Friday May 19th, 1871


    Warren awakes coughing in the blackest of blacks.


    Jesus Christ, what now? He thinks between a fit of hacking spit.


    All Warren sees is a sheet of formless black as if his eyes are bound shut. He touches his face and brow but finds no bindings.


    After the wet coughs subside, Warren looks to the sky, or up to where a sky would be. Finds no moon, no stars, just more thick, black nothing. The floor under him is stony and cold.


    ¡°The mines,¡± he breathes. ¡°The God damn mines.¡±


    With the back of his hand, Warren wipes away the spit from his chin. Even this he can not see.


    ¡°Joe!¡± Warren says in a half whisper half shout. ¡°Joe, you there?¡±


    This is not the first time Warren has awoken in some strange place after a night of heavy drinking¡ª though the mines? How in God¡¯s name has he ended up in the mines?


    ¡°Joe!¡± Warren calls out louder. ¡°Joe! You there?¡±


    Warren¡¯s own voice echoes back. Joe you there¡­ there¡­ there¡­


    ¡°Joe!¡±


    Joe¡­ Joe¡­ Joe¡­


    ¡°Well, you did it now,¡± Warren says. ¡°Got yourself in a tight one. You old, stupid fucker.¡± Warren shakes his head. ¡°Think, you old mule. Think.¡±


    He wills himself to sober up. Or at least imagines he does.


    There was a woman, he remembers.


    A women out in the desert. A naked woman. She was out there, as pale as the moon.


    Yes, Warren thinks, the woman. Even in the fix he¡¯s in Warren grows excited.


    He remembers her long, flowing hair. He remembers her thin arms and curving hips. The way she moved. And certainly, Warren remembers her bare backside.


    She was out there, just beyond the edge of town, beyond the lantern light, dancing and laughing. She was out there, in the desert, out in the dry night as if she were being born out there from their dreams.


    But now Warren was away from the desert. He was there, in the mines, stole away some how from the night and away from Cull and the drinks and the oil light.


    Warren remembers they ran to her¡ª him and Joe. Drunk and excited. Telling her to wait for them. To slow down.


    Warren remembers stumbling over rabbit brush and he remembers Joe getting to her first.


    ¡°Joe!¡± Warren calls again. ¡°Joe!¡±


    ¡°Joe ain¡¯t here,¡± a boy¡¯s voice says, cutting through the blackness. Warren nearly leaps out his skin.


    ¡°Who¡¯s there?¡± Warren demands.


    Who¡¯s there¡­ there¡­ there¡­


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    ¡°Benji,¡± the voice says, just as flat as the darkness that surrounded them.


    ¡°Where are you?¡±


    Warren feels something brush his hand. ¡°Stop that!¡±


    Stop that¡­ that¡­ that¡­


    ¡°You gots to quiet. She gonna hear.¡±


    ¡°The woman? Where is she? Where¡¯s¡ª¡±


    ¡°Shhh,¡± Benji says.


    ¡°Listen, kid. I can¡¯t see a damn thing in here and¡ª¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve got matches.¡±


    ¡°I do?¡± Then Warren remembers. He pats down his shirt. In the breast pocket he touches something square¡ª a matchbox.


    Blindly, Warren takes the matchbox from his shirt pocket, slides it open, pinches a match between his fingers and takes the match out. He slides the box closed once again, and runs the match on the strike strip. It sparks but doesn¡¯t light. He runs it a second time and it catches. The flame is small compared to the sea of blackness and illuminates nothing other than his hands and wrist.


    Warren swings the match around, looking for the kid.


    ¡°Over here,¡± the boy says.


    Warren moves then, taking slow, shambling steps. He crouches low so the match flame illuminates the mine floor.


    ¡°Where are you?¡± Warren says.


    ¡°Here,¡± the boy says and Warren moves again, like a game of Blind Man¡¯s Bluff.


    The flame burns down and licks Warren¡¯s finger and he drops the match and the light goes out. The black engulfs him and Warren curses.


    Warren¡¯s hand is back in his shirt pocket, rooting around for the matchbox. Another match is lit and he calls out for the boy again.


    ¡°I¡¯m here,¡± the boy says. He¡¯s nearly on top of Warren. ¡°Here. Here¡¯s my hand.¡±


    A pale, small hand swims out from the blackness and Warren takes it.


    ¡°Christ,¡± Warren says. ¡°Christ almighty. What are you doing in here?¡±


    ¡°I know the way out,¡± the boy says.


    ¡°Let me get a look at you.¡± Warren waves the match but the boy is pushing the light away.


    ¡°Stop now,¡± Warren says. ¡°I just want to get a look at you.¡±


    The boy grunts, tries to pull away, but Warren¡¯s knobby hand holds tight to the boy¡¯s wrist.


    ¡°Say,¡± Warren says. ¡°You ain¡¯t that lost boy everyones lookin¡¯ for, are you?¡±


    The boy grunts again, pulls more.


    ¡°Everyone is lookin¡¯¡± he says but the boy pulls harder and Warren goes toppling forward. He lets out a wild shout first of surprise and then anger. Warren¡¯s knees hit the stony floor hard and he curses. ¡°You God damn fucker!¡±


    The match is out again, fallen to the ground, but Warren is too angry to notice. ¡°You Bastard fuck! You¡­ you¡­¡±


    She¡¯s there then and Warren is quiet.


    Even in the black pit of the caves she illuminates.


    ¡°There you are,¡± Warren says, losing all interest in the boy. ¡°My God. There you are.¡±


    The boy, Benji, is hungry. He thinks he could have eaten the old miner all himself¡ª he was mostly just bone and gristle, after all. But she is there with her magic trick, her performance. Something akin to a mating ritual, or a dance, and the old miner is following her.


    ¡°Now you ain¡¯t shy is you?¡± He says stupidly. ¡°C¡¯mon here. Don¡¯t make me chase you.¡±


    She doesn¡¯t make him chase her.


    She stops and Warren nearly pounces on her but there is nothing to pounce on. The woman is a moving picture of sorts, a pattern on something, like the eyes upon the wings of a butterfly. Warren is lost for words. He touches this drawn woman, and the surface is soft and pliable. Like a wall of skin. He begins to wonder but it¡¯s cut short and then there is nothing for old Warren to wonder of any more.


    2.


    She had eaten the other one, the friend, Joe, all on her own and when Benji had tried to eat she pushed him away without so much as looking up from her meal. This time though, she does not push Benji away and they claw, and tear, chew and spit, and drink, together; like a pair of wild dogs at a fallen fawn.


    The town of Cull sleeps on.

 2. Alden Cotes and the Premonition

    1.


    Monday May 22nd, 1871


    It¡¯s early morning. Gray twilight filters in through window lace. Alden Cotes is awake and thinking of the ocean. There is a knock on the door.


    ¡°Sheriff, you in there?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, I¡¯m here, Burt,¡± Alden says. Alden can imagine only one reason why one of his deputies would be banging on his and Sophia¡¯s apartment door this early in the morning. ¡°They find the boy?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Burt says. ¡°It¡¯s something else. You decent?¡±


    Sophia rolls over in bed. ¡°It¡¯s early,¡± she says.


    ¡°I know.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s important,¡± Burt says.


    ¡°Go back to bed, Burt,¡± Sophia says.


    ¡°Bed? Oh no, Miss Cotes, I can¡¯t go back to bed¡ª¡±


    ¡°Shut up out there!¡± Someone yells from inside another apartment.


    ¡°Sheriff,¡± Burt says in a half whisper. ¡°It is important.¡±


    Alden is up and dressing. ¡°I¡¯ll be down there in a few minutes, Burt. Just let me get my boots on, okay?¡±


    ¡°Alright,¡± Burt says, and then adds, ¡°Sorry to bother you, Miss Cotes.¡±


    Burt¡¯s heavy steps retreat back down the sleeping hall and down the stairs.


    ¡°You telling him today?¡± Sophia says. Her eyes still closed.


    ¡°Who? Burt?¡±


    ¡°You know who,¡± Sophia says.


    ¡°Yeah,¡± Alden says. ¡°Sure. First thing this morning.¡±


    ¡°Promise.¡±


    ¡°Promise? Now why would I need to promise such a¡ª¡±


    ¡°Alden Eugene Cotes¡ª¡±


    ¡°All I¡¯m saying is there¡¯s no need to promise. It¡¯s no big deal.¡±


    ¡°No big deal?¡± Sophia makes to sit up. She¡¯s several months pregnant and her growing stomach makes it difficult to rise.


    ¡°Now no need to get up,¡± Alden says.


    ¡°You¡¯ve had that letter there for two weeks,¡± Sophia says. ¡°We¡¯re supposed to be leaving in another three¡ª¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll tell him today,¡± Alden says. He bends over and kisses her forehead. ¡°I promise.¡±


    ¡°Take the letter.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t need the letter,¡± Alden says.


    Sophia glares at him and Alden raises his hands in the universal, I surrender.


    ¡°I¡¯ll take the letter,¡± he concedes.


    ¡°I don¡¯t want to be giving birth all the way out here, in this¡ª¡±


    ¡°You won¡¯t have to.¡± Alden takes the letter off the side table and pockets it. ¡°Now get back to sleep. I¡¯ll see you this evening.¡±


    2.


    Alden and his wife, Sophia, rent an upstairs room at the Queen Anne Inn and Restaurant. The only way in and out of the apartments is out through the large dining hall below. Being so early in the morning the dining room is empty and cleaned up for the night and the chairs are stacked up on the tables. It¡¯s there, in the corner, by the door, Burt stands. Next to Burt is Alden¡¯s second deputy, Samuel, sitting in a chair.


    The disease is Giantism, and when Samuel sits, he looks as if he is sitting in a child''s chair.


    ¡°Well, this must be important,¡± Alden says. ¡°I¡¯ve got the both of you. What time is it?¡±


    Samuel checks his pocket watch. It looks like a coin in his hands. ¡°Quarter past four.¡± Samuel¡¯s speech is deep and slow, as if it¡¯s rising from a well.


    ¡°So what¡¯s all the matter?¡±


    Burt looks uneasily to Samuel. ¡°Well,¡± Burt starts. ¡°Samuel here¡¯s got to tell you something.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m all ears,¡± Alden says.


    ¡°A dream,¡± Samuel says. ¡°A very bad dream.¡±


    ¡°Now hold on¡ª¡± Burt interjects. ¡°You can¡¯t just go launching into it like that, Sam. Listen, Sheriff. It¡¯s going to sound really strange¡ª¡±


    ¡°Did you say a dream?¡± Alden says. ¡°Did he say a dream?¡±


    ¡°Yes, he said a dream,¡± Burt says, ¡°but first you have to understand something.¡±


    ¡°You two came sneaking over here¡ª¡±


    ¡°We did not sneak,¡± Samuel says.


    ¡°And come knocking on Sophia¡¯s and mine door at four in the morning?¡±


    ¡°Sheriff,¡± Burt says. ¡°Just listen for one minute, won¡¯t you?¡±


    ¡°Over a dream?¡± Alden says. ¡°Christ, Burt, I¡¯m not alls your mammies. You can¡¯t be running to me when yous all gets a bad dream.¡±


    ¡°It was his dream!¡± Burt says defensively.


    ¡°Sheriff,¡± Samuel raises his giant hands. ¡°Hear me. Hear me.¡±


    ¡°Shut up, down there!¡±


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    ¡°Listen to him, Sheriff,¡± Burt says in a harsh whisper. ¡°He¡¯s got a touch of the pre-mo-nition.¡±


    ¡°Pre-mo-nition?¡± Alden repeats. ¡°Boys, it¡¯s too early for this.¡±


    ¡°Hold on, Alden¡ª hold on,¡± Burt pleads. ¡°Don¡¯t go back up them stairs. Hold on. You know Sam¡¯s got something¡ª you¡¯ve seen it yourself. Remember that tornado two years ago? Sam said for weeks, weeks that a tornado was coming.¡±


    ¡°This is tornado country, Burt!¡±


    ¡°What about that Smith woman? Remember her? Sweet little Mrs. Smith? Who was the only person that knew she killed her husband? And who found the body?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s what you call pre-mo-nition?¡± Alden sits in the chair in front of Samuel. ¡°Okay, Sam. What about the Foster boy? What happened to him? Can you use that pre-mo-nition of yours to tell me that?¡±


    Samuel shakes his head. ¡°It don¡¯t work like that, Sheriff.¡±


    Alden licks his lips. ¡°What about on some horse races. Your pre-mo-nition work on that? And I ask because¡ª now hold on boys, hold on¡ª I heard that we¡¯re getting a wire all the way from Kansas City. One of those tapping things that¡ª beep, beep-beep, beep¡ª thing. You know? A¡ª a¡­¡± Alden has to think about it.


    ¡°Telegraph,¡± Samuel says.


    Alden snaps his fingers. ¡°A telegraph. That¡¯s what they¡¯re called. Good job, Sam. And I heard you¡¯d be able to bet on a horse race going on all the way in Kentucky right from here.¡± He taps his finger on the table. ¡°Ain¡¯t that something? A Kentucky race right here. Boys, we could be as rich as Mr. Ramsey up on that hill over there. Boy, technology.¡±


    ¡°It don¡¯t work like that,¡± Samuel says.


    ¡°The telegraph don¡¯t work like that?¡±


    ¡°Premonition don¡¯t work like that.¡±


    ¡°Too bad,¡± Alden says.


    ¡°You¡¯re fixin¡¯ about leavin¡¯,¡± Samuel says.


    ¡°Huh?¡±


    ¡°Leavin¡¯,¡± Samuel repeats. ¡°Quittin¡¯ town.¡±


    ¡°You is ain¡¯t you?¡± Burt says.


    Alden searches Samuel¡¯s face to see if he¡¯s joking.


    ¡°Boy, Samuel you are good,¡± Burt says. ¡°You¡¯re real good.¡±


    Alden scoffs. ¡°I¡¯m not fixin¡¯ to go anywhere.¡±


    ¡°Yes you is,¡± Burt says cheerfully. ¡°You have it writ all over your face.¡±


    ¡°Well who wouldn¡¯t think about leaving this dry turd?¡± Alden says.


    ¡°I¡¯m not thinking about leaving,¡± Burt says. ¡°Sam here, he ain¡¯t thinking about leaving either, are you Sam?¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re not here to stop you.¡± Samuel says.


    ¡°We ain¡¯t?¡± says Burt.


    ¡°You should leave to-day.¡± Samuel says. ¡°Things are happening. ¡®Bout to get bad.¡±


    ¡°Sam,¡± Burt says. ¡°You didn¡¯t say anything about making him go.¡±


    ¡°Bad?¡± Alden says. ¡°How bad?¡±


    ¡°Real bad,¡± says Samuel.


    Alden again searches Samuel¡¯s face then waves his hand away. ¡°This is all nonsense.¡± Alden stands. ¡°You sound like that crazy old Duncan lady.¡±


    ¡°U.S. Marshal,¡± Samuel says.


    ¡°Huh?¡±


    ¡°U.S. Marshal,¡± Samuel repeats. ¡°You leavin¡¯ to be a U.S. Marshal.¡±


    Alden stutters. ¡°How¡¯d you¡ª Samuel, did someone¡ª I haven¡¯t¡ª¡±


    ¡°Pre-mo-nition,¡± Burt says.


    ¡°You saw all that in a dream?¡± Alden says.


    ¡°You¡¯ve got a letter,¡± Samuel says. He points to Alden¡¯s chest.


    Alden falls back in the chair, digs into his jacket pocket, and removes the folded letter. ¡°You see this, Sam? Did Soph show it to you? I won¡¯t be mad at either of you. I just need to¡ª¡±


    ¡°He saw it in a dream,¡± Burt says.


    Alden shakes his head. ¡°Sophia wants me to tell Ramsey today¡ª¡±


    ¡°Leave now.¡± Samuel presses.


    ¡°Will you quit with that?¡± Burt says. ¡°Listen, Alden, you¡¯d make a real fine U.S. Marshal, no doubt about that. Maybe the best damn U.S. Marshal¡ª¡±


    ¡°Thank you, Burt.¡±


    ¡°But what you¡¯ve done here, for Cull,¡± Burt sighs. ¡°Sam and I are¡­ What I means to say is¡­ Oh shoot, Sheriff, you could run this whole town by yourself, I bet.¡±


    ¡°Now you¡¯re just flattering me, Burt.¡±


    ¡°No I aint,¡± Burt says. ¡°It¡¯s the truth and you know it is. I just know¡­ well¡­ this whole town would just turn to ruin without you. I know that.¡±


    ¡°Someone would replace me, Burt.¡± Alden says. ¡°Ramsey, he¡¯d see to that.¡±


    ¡°But don¡¯t you remember how it was when you first got here?¡± Burt presses. ¡°We had a mess of a time with this so and so gang and that so and so gang. Bandits and thieves.¡±


    ¡°Leave now,¡± Samuel says.


    ¡°I said quit that, Sam,¡± Burt says.


    ¡°And what? You think it will come to that again?¡± Alden says.


    ¡°I do,¡± Burt says. ¡°I really do. Take the Dean brothers for example.¡±


    ¡°The Deans?¡± Alden says. ¡°I didn¡¯t have no hand with them. Copper just proved more profitable than outlawin¡¯.¡±


    ¡°Leave,¡± Samuel says. ¡°Time running out.¡±


    ¡°Sam!¡±


    ¡°If you don¡¯t go you¡¯ll die.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll die?¡± Alden says. ¡°You saw that?¡±


    Sam nods.


    "Soph too?"


    Sam nods.


    Alden leans back in the chair. "So why aint you running, Sam? Or you, Burt?"


    ¡°Sam says I¡¯ll do just fine when all hell breaks loose. Says I need to be here. Going to be a big time hero.¡±


    ¡°What about you Sam?¡± Alden asks. ¡°You going to be a big time hero too?¡±


    ¡°Need to stay.¡±


    Alden nods. "Sounds a whole lot like the stuff they¡¯re shoveling up over at McDougal¡¯s farm."


    A gunshot outside and Alden is on his feet, his pistol drawn. Samuel is slower to rise but still quick enough and in a heartbeat all three of them are at the door and out with their pistols at the ready.


    3.


    Mr. Matthews, the owner of Matthews¡¯ Mercantile, is crouched low just outside his shop. He kneels over something. Alden barely has time to register this. A wild collection of desert animals stampede through the middle of the street. Mule deer, and coyotes. A sheep, jackrabbits, and even mice, snakes, and spiders, all run, crawl, and slither through the town center as if a dam holding back all the wild desert beasts had just burst open and flooded Cull.


    The flood of animals doesn¡¯t last more than thirty seconds and then they¡¯re gone, run off into the surrounding desert.


    Faces look out the windows, doors open.


    ¡°It was a wolf,¡± Mr. Matthews says when the three law men get to him.


    Mr. Matthew¡¯s is crouched over Mrs. Huber, the cobbler. She is on the wooden sidewalk her hand over her face. They help her up.


    ¡°The wolf jumped at her,¡± Mr. Matthews explains. ¡°I shot at it but I think I missed.¡±


    Mrs. Huber speaks only German and no one other than her husband, who is long since dead, understands her. She says something.


    ¡°Er-sush-tat.¡± Burt repeats nodding his head as if he understands. ¡°Er-sush-tat.¡±


    ¡°It bite her?¡± Alden asks.


    ¡°No,¡± Mr. Matthews says. ¡°I don¡¯t think so. It was so quick.¡±


    ¡°You see anything like it?¡±


    Mr. Matthews shakes his head. ¡°No. You?¡±


    ¡°Forest fire,¡± Alden says. ¡°Up north. Huge thing. Went burning for weeks. Lot¡¯s of animals came out running. All kinds. Bears, moose, deer¡ª¡±


    ¡°There isn¡¯t a forest within three days from here.¡± Mr. Matthews says.


    ¡°No,¡± Alden agrees.


    Alden looks west, the direction in which the animals had come from. Cull was in a valley, surrounded by a ridge of low, mining hills.


    ¡°Something scared them,¡± Alden says. He turns to Samuel, his giant deputy. "This in your dream, Sam?"


    Samuel cocks his head as if pondering this question. "Bats," he finally says. "A river of bats."

 3. Up at Big House

    1.


    Cull Valley, referred simply as Cull by its residents, is built deep in the Sonoran Desert, in a bowl-like valley. The actual founding of Cull and its history is mostly unknown. The earliest records show that in the fall of 1862 a Mr. James A. Havers of West Virgina found copper in the hills of Cull Valley, and that winter, thinking the land undeclared, Havers submitted an application to the Offices of the Territorial Governor to name the area ¡°Haversville¡±. Additional records show that the application was rejected on the basis that the area was in fact not undeclared but had already been named Cull Valley. Who had named it or when it had been named, Havers would never find out; a year later James Havers was found dead on his bed cot.


    In a letter written by the Tucson coroner, Dr. Alfred Whitman, a miner employed by Havers (unnamed in the letter) claimed that Havers had been complaining of stomach pains several days leading up to his death. The cause of death on Havers¡¯ death certificate reads ¡°peritonitis¡±.


    Ten years after Mr. Havers¡¯ death, the town of Cull Valley has grown into a thriving, expansive mining town, and would be unrecognizable to Havers if he were still alive today. The town has most the amenities of any lively community: hotels, boarding houses, saloons, stables, general stores, blacksmiths, banks, a post office, cobblers, and even a theater.


    The only remembrance of the founder is the name of the original mining camp, Havers¡¯ Hill, the camp that Havers had built (and died in). But this camp would be just as unrecognizable to the dead man as would the town in the valley below. The new owner of Havers¡¯ Hill, Jed Ramsey (businessman and Cull¡¯s first Mayor), turned the two-shack mining camp into a small town unto itself ¡ª two small towns in fact: Havers¡¯ Hill and the Negro encampment, Abol, named after abolitionism, the movement to end slavery in the United States. These two operations employ five hundred and fifty-six miners, half a dozen foreman, three carpenters, ten cooks, two dozen guards, and nine general laborers.


    These two encampments, Havers'' Hill and Abol, are in constant motion with day and night shifts pulling out copper ore all hours of the day (and night).


    2.


    Monday May 22nd, 1871


    To the east of Haver''s Hill and Abol, perched on the northern hills, overlooking Cull, is Mayor Ramsey¡¯s estate¡ª a large, Georgian style plantation. The estate is referred to as ¡°The Big House¡± by Cull residents.


    It is a bright sunny morning and Alden rides his horse up the road towards the Mayor''s rambling estate.


    Every Monday, at eight-thirty in the morning, is a council meeting up at Big House.


    3.


    Inside a room, no bigger than a closet, the Mayor of Cull, Mr. Jed Ramsey, sits in a high-backed chair. His face is pressed to a very crafty, and well-hidden peephole.


    ¡°Cull is more than a mining town. It is a home. It is the future,¡± he repeats quietly. ¡°Cull is more than a mining town.¡±


    On the other side of the peephole, is his office. At that moment, the room is occupied by two people: his newly appointed Chief Foreman, Mr. Arthur Gray, and a young woman, Miss Deborah Singer, a journalist from New York City. Ramsey hired her on last month and she just got into Cull the previous evening. She sits behind a metal contraption that she had brought with her.


    Ramsey, still repeating his mantra, Cull-is-more-than-a-mining-town-it-is-a-home-it-is-the-future, checks his gold pocket watch. He has to squint in the dark closet. It¡¯s twenty past eight.


    Ramsey has plans to renovate the office. The plans include the addition of a liquor cabinet (though he is not very fond of liquor), replacing the two windows with one larger window, add a built-in bookcase behind his desk, and install a wall mounted oil lamp in the hideaway in which he currently resides in.


    Twenty past eight. Ramsey goes back to the peephole just as Sheriff Alden Cotes is being ushered into the room. Ramsey watches the sheriff walk to his usual chair, notices Miss Singer, stops, nods, and says something in which Ramsey can¡¯t hear. Most likely an introduction, though Ramsey can¡¯t be sure. Miss Singer smiles and says something back, this also Ramsey cannot hear.


    A conversation is started between the three. Ramsey catches only a few words, and broken phrases. He catches Sheriff Cotes saying: ¡®how do you like?¡¯, and ¡®it ain¡¯t¡¯, and ¡®oh, you¡¯ll love Pauline¡¯, or maybe it was ¡®Darline¡¯, or possibly ¡®Parline¡¯.


    Miss singers says: ¡®wagon ride,¡¯ and ¡®awfully dry,¡¯ ¡®very nice,¡¯ and ¡®in context.¡¯


    Ramsey also has plans to install pipes in the walls that can carry sound into the hidden room.


    Mr. Gray spent a lifetime blowing up rock and he nearly yells. ¡°I¡¯d like you up to Abol, Sheriff.¡±


    Sheriff Cotes says something, and Gray responds with, ¡°Just give ¡®em a talkin¡¯ is all. Bring your boys up maybe. Even Ramsey¡¯s boys. Show them we serious is all.¡±


    Miss Singer says something.


    ¡°Deserters,¡± Gray says.


    Ramsey repositions himself in the chair. ¡°Cull is more than a mining town,¡± he recites. ¡°It is a home. It is the future.¡±


    Another minute passes.


    Daniel Moreau, Ramsey¡¯s assistant, enters the room and then disappears from Ramsey¡¯s view, presumably taking his place in the back corner, suggesting that the meeting is about to commence.


    Ramsey checks his watch again. It was two-minutes ¡®til eight-thirty. He told Moreau on multiple occasions that he was not to enter the room until he had received an explicit order from him, which of course he had not.


    ¡°Cull is more than a mining town. It is a home. It is the future.¡±


    A minute past eight thirty, the reporter, Anthony Hill, rushes into the room. ¡°So sorry I¡¯m late.¡± He fixes his hair. ¡°There was a¡ª oh, hello.¡± He extends his hand out to Miss Singer and Ramsey is up and out of the hiding room. He crosses quietly through the drawing room, exiting through the back room there, checks the back hallway, finds it empty, straightens, and marches down the hallway. His steps echoing off the walls and floor.


    ¡°Sorry to keep you waiting,¡± Ramsey says, striding in through the office doorway. ¡°I was just going over the Main Street extension plans one last time.¡± He raises an open hand towards Miss Singer and her machine. ¡°I¡¯d like to introduce you boys to Miss Deborah Singer. Gracing us all the way from New York City. I don¡¯t believe I need to ask you barbarians to be on your best behavior. Do I?¡± He smiles and adds, ¡°she¡¯s a journalist.¡± Then to Hill, ¡°You¡¯ve got some competition, young man.¡± Laughs.


    You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.


    Miss Singer smiles. ¡°Mr. Ramsey hired me to¡ª¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s writing a novel,¡± Ramsey interrupts. ¡°About Cull and the ingenuity, and leadership it took to conquer such a hostile, yet profitable land. You all in this room will certainly be a part of her book, I¡¯m sure.¡±


    Ramsey sits behind his desk. ¡°Alright, let¡¯s begin shall¡ª¡±


    ¡°All the way from New York City?¡± Alden says and whistles. ¡°Alone?¡±


    ¡°She rode in my personal caravan, Sheriff,¡± Ramsey says. ¡°She was, I hope, very well taken care of.¡± He looks to Miss Singer for confirmation.


    ¡°Oh yes, quite. Thank you. It was a very comfortable ride.¡±


    Gray nods and smiles at all this not hearing a single word.


    ¡°And while she is here,¡± Ramsey says, ¡°Mr. Moreau will be chaperoning her. Now¡ª¡±


    ¡°Where are you staying?¡± Alden says.


    ¡°The Biloxi.¡±


    ¡°The Biloxi? That is the finest hotel in all of Cull,¡± Alden says.


    ¡°It is lovely,¡± Miss Singer agrees.


    ¡°The Mayor owns it, did you know that?¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°Beautiful place,¡± Hill says.


    ¡°We can catch her up on all these¡ª¡±


    ¡°Really lovely place,¡± Alden continues. ¡°Cull owes the Mayor here a great debt. I think in five years this whole desert will be full of shops and hotels and saloons¡ª¡±


    ¡°We can only hope,¡± Ramsey says. ¡°Now¡ª¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m just down the road at the Queen Anne¡ª My wife and I,¡± Alden snaps his finger. ¡°You two will have to meet. Soph is wonderful. She can show you all over town. She helped start a woman¡¯s club¡ª The Cull Valley Ladies¡¯ Association.¡±


    ¡°I would like that.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sure Miss Singer will be quite busy, Sheriff, writing the novel and all¡ª¡±


    ¡°A novel about Cull,¡± Miss Singer says, in a tone implying that Ramsey had forgotten why she was there. ¡°I would quite like to know all aspects of the town and its people.¡±


    Ramsey smiles. ¡°Of course, you¡¯re right Miss Singer. Moreau here will be pleased to help you, isn¡¯t that right Moreau?¡±


    ¡°Certainly,¡± Moreau says.


    ¡°So it¡¯s settled,¡± Alden says smiling. ¡°I¡¯ll talk with Soph this evening¡ª¡±


    ¡°May we begin?¡± Ramsey says. His tone cool.


    ¡°Why sure, Mayor,¡± Alden says. ¡°Don¡¯t let me stop you.¡±


    When no other comments are made Ramsey leans his elbow on the desk and opens his hand palms up.


    A moment passes.


    Another moment and eyes shift around the room. Then Hill makes a noise, remembering. He fumbles with his bag, produces a newspaper, passes it rolled up to Moreau, and Moreau puts the paper it into Ramsey¡¯s waiting hand.


    Ramsey takes the paper, unrolls it, leans back in his chair and begins reading.


    ¡°A paper?¡± Miss Singer says. Then reads the title. ¡°The Cull Valley Gazette. You have your own paper?¡±


    ¡°For over two years,¡± Ramsey says, satisfied.


    ¡°Great newspaper,¡± Alden says. ¡°He owns that as well.¡±


    ¡°The paper? I¡¯ve never heard of a Mayor owning their own newspaper?¡±


    Ramsey opens his mouth to say something.


    ¡°Our Mayor here is one of a kind,¡± Alden says smiling. ¡°He also owns two of the mines here in Cull: Havers'' Hill and Abol. The Biloxi Hotel¡ª¡±Alden counts them off on his fingers.


    ¡°Oh, I¡¯m sure Miss Singer doesn¡¯t have any interest in my¡ª¡±


    ¡°The Copper Nose Saloon,¡± Alden continues.


    ¡°Paddle Creek,¡± Hill adds.


    ¡°That¡¯s right,¡± Alden says. ¡°Paddle Creek. Another mine, a days ride from here.¡±


    ¡°May I have one?¡± Miss Singer says.


    ¡°You want a mine?¡± Alden says.


    ¡°A copy of the newspaper.¡±


    ¡°Oh, I¡¯m sorry,¡± Hill says. ¡°That¡¯s the only one. It¡¯s just the mock-up¡ª¡±


    ¡°This one is coming out to-morrow,¡± Ramsey says, then to Hill, ¡°You¡¯ve misspelled perpendicular. Page two.¡±


    Hill jots a note in his notepad. Ramsey turns the page.


    ¡°Are you the editor of the magazine too?¡± Miss singer asks. She now has her own notepad and pencil out.


    ¡°Oh, heavens no, Mr. Douglas is the editor. Though I do wonder sometimes how such misspellings do get past him¡ª¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s normally at these meetings,¡± Alden says.


    ¡°The line, wagons coming and going,¡± Ramsey says. ¡°Page three¡­ use something more eloquent. Arriving and departing.¡±


    Hill makes another note and Ramsey turns another page.


    Alden moves his chair closer to Miss Singer. It makes a loud grating noise. Alden winces apologetically.


    Ramsey turns another page.


    Alden leans over and whispers something in Miss Singer¡¯s ear. Miss Singer shakes her head and whispers something back. Alden snaps his finger to get Hill¡¯s attention. And now Hill is leaning over and the three are whispering about something. Ramsey watches them from over the newspaper.


    ¡°Page five,¡± Ramsey says getting their attention. Second paragraph. ¡°And their will be fun and games. It should be there¡ª t-h-e-r-e.¡±


    Hill makes the note and is back to whispering with Alden and Miss Singer. Alden raises his hands pantomiming something large. Ramsey clears his throat and eyes are back on him.


    ¡°Just make those changes, won¡¯t you?¡±


    ¡°Yes, sir.¡±


    ¡°Alright what¡¯s next?¡± Ramsey drums his fingers on the desk.


    ¡°I was just telling Miss Singer and Hill here about the miniature stampede we had in town this morning.¡±


    ¡°Miniature stampede?¡± Ramsey says.


    ¡°It was early. Sometime just before five. There were coyotes, and Mule deer. Jackrabbits, a whole mess of mice¡ª¡±


    ¡°Stampede you say?¡± Gray says, nearly shouting it.


    ¡°Yes, sir,¡± says Alden.


    Ramsey laughs. ¡°Surely you¡¯re joking, Sheriff.¡±


    ¡°No, it was the strangest thing. Mr. Matthews fired at a coyote that jumped at Mrs. Huber.¡±


    ¡°How awful,¡± Miss Singer says.


    ¡°What¡¯s that?¡± Gray yells.


    ¡°Mr. Matthews fired at a coyote.¡± Alden says louder and slower.


    ¡°Good,¡± Gray says. ¡°Dirty dogs, those things.¡±


    ¡°I was just telling Hill that he should write about it,¡± Alden continues.


    Ramsey shakes his head. ¡°Appreciate that energy, Sheriff But Leave the news-papering to Hill a I and we¡¯ll leave you to the Sheriffing¡­ which leads into the next subject. Any updates on the missing Fremont boy?¡±


    Alden shifts in his chair. ¡°I could use some of those miners of yours maybe,¡± Alden says. "We¡¯ve done two search parties already but they were small. If we start from the Fremont¡¯s house and fan out¡ª¡±


    ¡°How many men are you thinking?¡± Ramsey says.


    ¡°Fifty men¡ª more would be¡ª¡±


    ¡°Fifty men?¡± Ramsey nearly laughs. ¡°For a full¡ª¡± He clears his throat and straightens up. ¡°The poor mother¡­¡± He shakes his head as if he came to a conclusion. ¡°I will do you one better. I will raise the reward.¡±


    ¡°I could use the men more,¡± Alden starts.


    ¡°Nonsense. You¡¯ll get two hundred men combing the desert for him every day,¡± He snaps his finger. ¡°Moreau. Work with Hill here to draft up more of those poster. Actually¡ª¡± his voice brightens. ¡°We¡¯ll run a full page ad. Three hundred dollars!¡±


    Alden whistles. ¡°That¡¯s awfully nice of you, Mayor.¡±


    Ramsey smiles. ¡°Community first.¡±