Death Devil (9781101559666) by Jon Sharpe

enter the barn he glanced over his shoulder and thought he glimpsed a small white form crouched in the corn. He blinked, and it was gone.
    The men were somber as they filed into the house and up the stairs. Belinda had gotten Edna onto the bed. Edna was unconscious and Belinda was stitching her neck wound with a long needle. She looked up as they appeared in the doorway. “That’s far enough.”
    â€œThis is my house and she’s my wife,” Harold said. “I can come in if I want.”
    â€œI can’t afford to be distracted,” Belinda said. “And I need you or someone else to heat water and bring the pot upstairs. I have to clean this wound to prevent infection.”
    â€œWhat about the rabies?” Orville asked. “What can you do about that?”
    â€œI don’t think it is,” Belinda said.
    â€œWhy? We all saw that girl foamin’ at the mouth. And your friend, Fargo, said he saw Old Man Sawyer doin’ the same.”
    Belinda paused with her needle inserted in a strip of flesh. “Listen to me. I can’t be disturbed right now. But I’ll simply say that it’s my understanding that when a person contracts rabies, by the time they’re foaming at the mouth, they’re also experiencing seizures and paralysis. In other words, they’re incapacitated to the point where they can’t go around attacking others.”
    â€œInca-what?” Harold asked.
    â€œThey can’t move much,” Belinda clarified. “Now please. If I’m to have any hope of saving your wife, I need that water and I need privacy.” She went to bend over Edna but looked up again. “Oh. And Harold. As soon as I’m finished with Edna, I’ll take a look at your hand.”
    â€œI’m fine,” Harold said. “The bleedin’ has mostly stopped.”
    The McWhertles turned and descended the stairs, their voices fading as they neared the kitchen.
    Fargo leaned against the jamb and folded his arms. “Is there anything I can do?”
    Belinda glanced over and smiled. “Not at the moment.” She bent to the needle. “I forgot to ask them. What happened to Abigail?”
    â€œShe ducked into the corn. I’ll go after her at first light.”
    â€œThere are two of them out there now,” Belinda said worriedly. “And despite what I told the others, to be perfectly honest, I’m not sure it’s not rabies. I haven’t had any experience with the disease.”
    â€œI wouldn’t tell them that,” Fargo said.
    â€œNo, I won’t. We don’t want a panic on our hands,” Belinda said. “Although now that I think about it, I should send riders to warn everyone to be on the lookout for anyone or anything that shows the symptoms.”
    â€œAny advice you can give me for when I go after the girl?” Fargo asked.
    â€œYes,” Belinda said. “Don’t get bit.”

13
    The golden orb of the sun blazed the misty eastern horizon when Fargo stepped into the stirrups and reined the Ovaro toward the cornfield. He’d slept on the settee, or tried to, and had a fitful night. He kept waking up at the slightest sound. It didn’t help that Harold McWhertle refused to bolt the doors in case Abigail came back. Orville argued that he was putting their lives at risk but Harold refused to give in.
    Belinda had stayed up in the bedroom with Edna so Harold slept in another bedroom by himself. His kids he put down in the root cellar. The rest of the McWhertles sprawled wherever they saw fit.
    No one else was up when Fargo roused and went to the kitchen. He’d kindled the stove and helped himself to coffee left over from the day before.
    Now here he was, off to find the possibly rabid spitfire.
    The morning air was brisk but that would soon change.
    He rode around the barn and crossed to the corn and drew rein. He had a choice. He could track her through the corn, which could