Reluctant Berserker: Isaacson Trilogy Book One

Chapter 10

"We should have jumped from the train."

"You're just upset you're not in charge of the investigation."

Ulric scoffed and glared at Gunnar, who shrugged and said, "You can be mad at me all you want, but it's still the truth, and you know it."

They both watched as Sheriff Hansen and Deputy Thomas Monahan questioned the survivors from the train.

Neither of them harbored any ill will against the sheriff, but their faith in his ability to handle specific threats had greatly diminished over the last few years. Half the men in town were Berserkers, but if it came down to needing to do actual enforcing, they all knew who would handle the problems that arose.

Now, they merely followed the formality of including him, having long ago concluded that everything about Hansen, including his work ethic, was unremarkable.

At fifty-two, he was short, nearly bald, and rather portly—due to his over-fondness of sweets—and had poor vision. The fact that the people of Buffalo Gulch had elected him Sheriff three times in a row was simply because no other men had run for office. His only redeeming trait was that he was more than willing to put his life on the line in times of crisis, but it remained to be seen if that was due to his inability to see the dangers in front of him or real courage.

The sheriff's deputy was little better. Thomas Monahan's hair reached his shoulders in greasy strands, and the color of it was questionable, although it appeared to be an unattractive shade of brown. His only redeeming feature was his kind blue eyes. He had a pock-marked, ruddy complexion and was prone to sweating profusely.

Town highly speculated that Deputy Thomas Monahan had never seen the inside of a bathtub or knew the feel of clean water on his skin. The proof of this was his stench, which could be smelled a good forty feet away from him in any direction, which he claimed was to keep the bears away.

It had been complete pandemonium the minute the train pulled into the station. Before it had even come to a grinding halt, passengers threw themselves from the train, some landing with more skill than others. It was a good thing it was late at night, or the whole town would have gathered when the first screams of 'murderers on the loose' pierced the air.

Over two hours had passed since the sheriff arrived on the scene. Blood had long since dried on the walls, carpets, and curtains.

The train's engineer fainted after being shown the three destroyed cars. Shortly after the engineer regained consciousness, Gunnar and his brothers watched him enter the station. They heard him order a telegram to be sent to the Union Pacific Railroad's head office to notify them of the atrocity committed.

Nora sat on one of her trunks grouped with the other chests and items belonging to her uncle, along with the few salvageable belongings from the passenger car. Resignation marked her features, and her eyes were heavy with exhaustion and grief. Once the train pulled into the station and they unloaded the luggage and corpses, he and Nora barely talked to each other.

Not wanting her to have to look upon her uncle's corpse any longer, Gunnar had personally taken it to the coroner. Half an hour ago, he had returned, unsure of where he fit in now that it was no longer his duty to deal with these situations. He gave his statement of what had occurred and the part he'd played – and now waited.

"I can't watch this any longer," Ulric growled and marched over to where Sheriff Hansen rocked back and forth on his heels, thumbs in his suspenders, and attempted to question Crone Number One. It was a painful sight to behold.

A gentle breeze lifted the hair off Gunnar's face, delivering the welcome scent of juniper and pine while coyotes howled and yipped in the distance. The oil lanterns of the station cast more shadow than light but brought welcome relief to the darkness of the night just the same.