The blackest hour in the blackest country is right before the dawn
But nobody seems to be traveling this road that I'm on
- Tombstone Three, “The Blackest Hour”
April 30, 1875 - 8:00 pm
Once Kane and Hank finally got Owley, Cole, and Tawakoni to Dusthaven, they went straight to the house of Dr. Zeismer and pulled him from his dinner. The officious German doctor treated Owley and Cole with what he was able to, and gave each of them some laudanum for their injuries. He taped up Cole’s ribs, but unfortunately for Owley, there was little beyond painkillers that he could do. Once the laudanum started working, Cole felt much better, but it also made him sleepy.
Zeismer next examined Tawakoni, but there seemed to be little he could do for the Indian other than let whatever unknown thing was paralyzing him to run its course. The man's eyes were open, but they seemed glazed over, staring at nothing in particular. Zeismer could not feel any pulse, either at his wrist or his neck. At first, the physician thought him dead, but then he saw Tawakoni's chest slowly rising and falling. "Was anyone else injured?" he asked.
“I hope you got a strong stomach, Doc.” Hank said. He and Kane went to the door, and led Geneviève into Zeismer’s parlor. He nearly dropped his kerosene lamp when he saw her, and drew back.
“Gott in Himmel,” he stammered. His face went utterly white.
“You said it,” said Hank. Cole tried to plead with the doctor to help her, but his mouth wouldn’t form the words thanks to the laudanum. “Can you help… uh, her?”
“Help her?” The doctor put a hand to his mouth. “I don’t even understand how… that… can be alive! It looks like at least eight different girls, sewn together! I’m a man of science, but this is blasphemy!”
“This is some of your predecessor’s work,” said Hank.
“Hollister? Mein Gott! I had heard rumors, but to see this thing…” He shuddered. “I have worked so hard to restore the people’s confidence in the medical profession, and now you drag this THING to my door? I will treat your friends, but this… I have no idea where even to begin with this thing.”
From outside came the sound of raised voices. Hank went to the door and looked out, and it didn’t look as though he liked what he saw. “Zeismer!” the stentorian voice of Reverend Elias boomed from the darkness. “Zeismer! We know what you’ve got in there! People saw it when they came in from the badlands. You bring that thing out here right now!”
Kane and Hank moved toward Geneviève. Cole tried to interfere, but thanks to the laudanum the ground seemed to be heaving worse than the ship he had come to America on. He fell back down as the Sheriff, the bounty hunter and the doctor led what had once been Geneviève outside.
“I want you all to know I had nothing to do with this!” Dr. Zeismer shouted. “I don’t even know what this thing is.”
“Abomination!” shouted the Reverend. Other voices took up the cry. “Turn it over to us,” the Reverend roared. Cole tried again to move, he stumbled into the door frame, barely hanging onto it. Outside, he could see a number of townsfolks wielding torches, clubs, and farm implements standing behind Reverend Elias, who was in full ministerial regalia.
“We must cleanse the earth of this aberration!” Elias shouted. “Bring forth the kerosene.” Several men came out of the crowd with bottles of lamp oil. “It must be salted with fire!” Zeismer did nothing to prevent Hank and Kane pushing Geneviève forward.
“No!” Cole shouted. “No!” but no one heard him over the clamor of the crowd. Owley was clearly going to be of no help, and Tawakoni had not regained consciousness. Cole tried to push himself out of the doorway. The reverend and the men with kerosene flasks approached Geneviève. She shrieked with terror upon seeing the flaming torches.
“Tie it down,” the Reverend commanded. Two of the men brought forth a rope. “Hangin’ won’t work for this thing, it’s been killed once already. It’ll take the touch of the fire to cleanse it.” Geneviève fought back against her attackers with amazing strength, but there were too many and at last she lay bound at the feet of Reverend Elias.
“Merciful Father,” he intoned. “We pray for the souls of these poor women. We pray that they find the peace in Heaven that they were denied in this life. We pray your vengeance on those who create such abominations on your good earth, and those who harbor them. In the name of Jesus.” He poured the kerosene over the body, and set it ablaze. The shrieks were unlike anything Cole had ever heard, even the ghosts in the mine. He saw that Kane had turned away, retching uncontrollably. But nothing stopped Elias and his followers. Cole tried to run at them, but he fell down again, and mercifully fainted before Geneviève’s cries reached a crescendo.
When Cole woke up again, he found himself back in the doctor’s house next to Owley. Pushing himself up again, he ignored the twinge of pain in his ribs and ran out the door. The smell of scorched cloth and flesh was still hanging in the air, but the mob and their victim both were gone.
“You’re too late,” Dr. Zeismer called after him. “They’ve already finished their grim work. They took it to the canyons and threw it out for the coyotes,” he pronounced it “Cy-oats” “because the parson refused to give it a Christian burial. Not that I blame him.”
“Bastards!” Cole staggered for the doctor’s gate, tears stinging his eyes. Weston Kane emerged from the doctor’s house, and tried to help him stand and walk. Cole glared at him.
“You’re right to be angry with me,” said Kane. “This really is all my fault. I heard that someone had seen Viper Callahan at one of Dr. Ezekiel’s shows, so I asked Geneviève to join up and see what she could find. She was glad to do it. I was afraid she might get in trouble but I never expected… this.” Cole didn’t speak to him. “The only good news is, that White Feather fellow is awake. He still can’t move too much, but he’s awake. Owley’s nuts are going to be sore for a while - the doc isn’t sure if he’ll ever have kids now.”
Cole felt too bad for himself to feel anything, good or bad, for Owley and Tawakoni. He shoved Kane aside, and continued to walk. He didn’t want to go to the saloon – there was every chance that he would run into the men who had done in Genevieve or even Reverend Elias himself. And he had a feeling in his current condition that the Reverend would clean his clock if he tried to take the revenge he so desired. He looked around at the town, deciding where he should go. In the end, he went back to the hotel, and collapsed into the comforting embrace of the rocking chair, looking out at the desert where Genevieve’s ashes were.
Geneviève always played a banjo, and the song "Old Dan Tucker" was always in the repertoire of her musical performances. He was asleep now, and he was back in the days of his first encounter with her. She wasn’t the ruined form they had found at the smelting plant. She was as lovely as ever, as happy and full of joy as she had ever been. She played a banjo, and she sang that song. There were some rough miner types singing along.
May 1, 1875 - 8:00 am
Cole felt even worse the next morning than he had the night before. His head was pounding, and his stomach rolled like the Atlantic. He really didn't want to see anyone at all. That included the esteemed Mister Worthington of the Pioneer Express railway. But if there were any chance at all that he could salvage this disaster, he'd have to give it a shot.
After his debacle bringing Geneviève back with him to Dusthaven, Cole expected the people of Dusthaven to be hostile to him, but most paid him no attention at all. He walked toward the train station, passing many faces. As he walked by them he hoped none of them knew him from the creature he'd brought, or that he had any dealings with her. He walked into the train station and the station master Clancy was working behind his desk. Cole asked if Mr. Worthington was in. The station master told him that their mutual boss was in a frightful mood, since he and Mr. Owley had gone gallivanting into the desert the day before.
This was not good news for Cole. He knew that he'd likely be in trouble now and was not at all eager to face Mr. Worthington in his current state. But he walked back to Worthington’s office, and hoped he didn’t hurl whatever was left of his dinner onto the man’s desk.
“About time you came back,” said Worthington. “I heard about your… escapades in the desert. What were you doing, disobeying my orders like that.”
“We wanted to help - “ Worthington cut him off.
“I heard all about what you brought back with you, Mr. Bridgewater,” Worthington said, a glint in his eye. “Do you know why the railroad succeeds? Because we don’t monkey with things that are beyond our ken. We don’t go out of our way to stir these forces up. Do you understand? These are not toys, not entertainment. There’s a reason people are scared to go into those badlands, Mr. Bridgewater. Particularly Coyote Gulch. And that’s the way it should be.”
Cole’s jaw dropped. “You knew things like this were happening?”
“And I should have made it more clear that I wanted them left alone,” Worthington groused. “And, with the absence of a claim from the Apaches, your services are no longer required. I trust you can see yourself out.”
“Yes, sir. I can.” Cole got up, and turned toward the exit. “I hope that something out of that canyon comes up here and bites you on the ass. Good day.” He spat the last with as much vitriol as he could muster.
Stomping angrily to the saloon, Cole sat at the bar, even though he didn’t think he could drink anything, and brooded over all that had happened in the past couple of days. If Worthington thought that he was going to get rid of him this easily, he had another think coming. He’d find a way to serve the executive some comeuppance for this, and Doc Hollister too.
Since the railroad would no longer be paying for his board at the hotel, Cole knew he’d probably have to find another place to stay in town. Fortunately, he had no family, could cook at least roughly for himself. There should, he thought, be at least one abandoned miner’s cabin that he could stake a claim on and renovate. Though he knew little of carpentry, there was no time like the present to learn.
He had a few other needs that finding an abandoned cabin would not satisfy. He’d need a better gun, maybe a serviceable knife and definitely more rugged clothes and boots. He wondered if the railroad would allow him to buy Nevah from them - she seemed like a good horse.
After buying the gun and knife, Cole found an abandoned miner's cabin. He posted a notice in Hank’s office and the saloon that he was staking his claim on it, but no one contested his claim. As a bonus, Worthington thought losing Nevah was a small price to pay to get rid of Cole, and Jeb was more than happy to take care of Cole’s other needs.
So Cole settled into Dusthaven, which he thought would be as good a new home as any. As he began the task of renovating his cabin, he carefully watched the railroad expansion. It didn’t turn out as Worthington had wanted at all. There was no resistance from the Apaches, true, but the Apaches were no longer the most dangerous thing in the badlands. Hollister’s abominations became more bold, and his gangs roamed the land, harassing everyone who weren't on their payroll.
In addition, the Viper's Fang Gang continued their raids. Their gang also seemed to take a liking to railroad construction workers as prey. That part of the operation didn't get much attention until after the fact, which didn't go down well with the rest of the workers. As the raids escalated, the railroad began to resemble a war zone more than a public utility. It looked as though Cole had his work cut out for him.