Innocents' Massacre cont'd


C.

“If I could be any more worried about our government I don’t know where I would be. They send your black ass over here to help deal with this shit and you proceed to have a Pow-Wow with the damned killers you’re supposed to be investigating! Please boy, please tell me you have an explanation for yourself!?”
Guy’s mind cleared a bit and he looked at the floor. He did not dare meet the glowering stare of the Sheriff. He responded in a flat tone.
“Sorry sir I must be tired from the ride to town. I was on the trail a good piece.”
Miles sat down in his desk across from Guy enraged.
“Well maybe you need to concentrate a little harder damn it, lazy shiftless…”
The Sheriff’s words trailed off menacingly. He stood up and crossed over to Guy. Grabbing him by the arm he yanked him from his seat and dragged him over to the closed door across from the front, through and into a grim room.
In the room were five covered forms on a long table. Miles placed Guy in front of the head of the table and pulled the sheet off. There on the table lay the five battered bodies of the victims. Dried blood was caked over vicious wounds adorning each misshapen face. They could not be identified as individuals, except in the various patterns of brutality painted on their distorted faces. Guy blanched at the sight. No sounds came from these dead swollen lips.
“This is what you are here about. You’re here to make sure no more of this happens. ’Cause believe me if anything like this happens again there is gonna be some real bloodshed! And ain’t no napping government nigger gonna be able to stop it!”
Guy bent close to the nearest body. His head finally and completely clear.
“What weapon did this?”
“A club. A simple club!”
“But those men…” Guy looked towards the cell room, ”those men could not of had the strength to do this?”
Miles again covered the bodies with the long sheet.
“Look I’m gonna send ya to where you’re gonna be staying. Rest a bit, collect your damn thoughts after your long ride, and then meet me at the saloon. You can talk to some witnesses there.”
Sheriff Miles walked back into his office and scribbled on a piece of paper. He thrust it into Guy’s waiting hand.
“You can read can’t ya boy? This where you’re gonna be. It’s noon now. I’ll come and get you at six to go to the saloon. Be awake for this!” Guy nodded focus on the sheet of paper.
“Yes sir.”
Guy walked out to his horse and patted him absently. He tried to recall the peace he felt at the old men’s song, but the vision of dried blood and battered faces flooded his thoughts.