LLP-272 Caesar Comes Book One by Jon Reskind


Chapter 1


Thunder rumbled with foreboding violence somewhere off to the west 
above the lush, surrounding hills of the valley. Yet, stars twinkled 
now and then in the warm, summer-night sky where the patches of 
gathering clouds didn't obscure them. A pale half-moon outlined the 
small town's hushed streets when the sweeping masses permitted, 
determining century-old, framed houses and great, gnarled elm-trees 
lining the ways. A white, wooden church-steeple that had stood in 
Cresent Valley since its founding some five-score years passed, 
dominated the heart of the settlement.

It was late, nearing midnight, and the town square, along with its two-
blocks of locked business establishments, rested in the feeble, silent 
glow of sparse street-lamps and occasional neon tubings of vivid reds, 
greens and blues. A distance off in the hills, an animal, a stray wolf 
perhaps, wailed an eerie howl that carried across the uneasily sleeping 
valley. Then, the unmistakable sound of rhythmic footfalls against 
pavement grew louder, shattering the ghostly stillness. By the dim, 
artificial light, one could make out the trim figure of a young girl 
moving rapidly as she hummed to herself in a timorous voice and turned 
onto the darkness of Cypress Street, purposely ignoring the far-end of 
the square where the town hall loomed. Immediately, her tiny feet began 
to gain in tempo.

Lightning, but not of the jagged, bolt variety, momentarily illuminated 
her night world as she walked with increasing speed along the nearly 
pitch-darkened street toward her home. Her young mind was not at ease 
and she hummed as if to deny that to herself. She was thinking that her 
Uncle Link could get quite up-tight when she stayed out after eleven 
... and it was almost midnight. But they'd been having such a good time 
dancing and talking that she'd truly forgotten about the hour. She 
hoped that he wouldn't be waiting for her ... and if Nell Carter was 
there he wouldn't be ... that was a near certainty. She could well 
surmise what he would be doing with his bleached housekeeper from L.A. 
...!

The lightning flashed again, startling her, following by the vibrating 
roll of distant thunder. It would storm tonight, she thought. Last 
night it had nearly broken when she'd accompanied Uncle Link and the 
men on their frantic chase after the wild dog pack. She hadn't wanted 
to go, but he'd insisted. She was an expert rifle marksman and a 
capable horse-woman, prime requisites when the sheep were being 
threatened. She'd had no choice but to go, and God ... she would never 
forget it! The way her uncle had clubbed and tortured that wild, fawn-
colored female dog! What a beautiful animal she had been, too, and 
almost ready to whelp. It sickened her now as she remembered the 
vicious manner he'd used to beat the beautiful animal rather than shoot 
her. Some of the men had actually cursed him ...

"Dammit, shoot her, Chief! You don't have to torture the bitch that way 
...!"


End of Page 1. See llp-272.txt for full story.