Page 4 of Small Town Hunter

“He trusted me.” Sebastian covers the flash of guilt in his eyes, looking away.

“Look, Dee. That gold is a McCall fortune. And I’m the son of the McCall. Duke was my father, too. If Roman’s got the right to keep it for himself, then I have a right to do the same.”

“You aren’t the only McCall,” I fret. “It still feels like stealing. It doesn’t feel right.”

“That’s all these people do, Dee. Rob and cheat and kill each other. They can’t have enough land or money. Roman’s the worst. Talking up family and morals, but he’s killed and — I can’ttell you the half.” He exhales. “I won’t crash out on Roman’s behalf.” He looks down at Skyla. “And neither will my daughter. Neither will mywife.”

“So we’re spending money that some evil old confederate stole from widows and babies? That just sounds cursed.”

Sebastian hesitates.

“What?”

“There’s a rumor about the gold,” he begins.

“Whatrumor?”

“I wasn’t gonna tell you. Nevermind.”

“Sebastian!”

“Alright, Dee. The story is that one reason McCall didn’t spend any of the gold is that it’s cursed.”

“What?” I shriek so loud heads turn.

“Keep your damned voice down, Dee. Family legend,” says Sebastian, using air quotes, “Says that you have to split the gold four ways to break the curse.”

“Why four?”

“I don’t know. But it’ll be fine. It’s all just superstition.”

“Yeah,” I say uncertainly.

“You’ll see,” says Sebastian, shaking his head. “Once we’re all set up in California, and you don’t have a thing to worry about, you’ll see it was all meant to happen.”

“I’d love to be in California right now,” I sigh.

He takes my hand, and his harsh gaze softens. “I know, Dee-dee.”

Uneasy, I look out the diner window at this dusty town. Tippalonga, Oklahoma.

Sebastian passes me a newspaper and asks, “Now, what do you think of this?”

Frowning, I read:

TIPPALONGA HERALD

A Holy Union in Tippalonga

Tippalonga’s own Reverend Wilson is to be wed to a young Ms. Whiteleaf in a grand celebration, the first interracial marriage of its prominence in Tippalonga County.

As the son of esteemed Grand Wizard Halberton Wilson, who headed the Tippalonga Klan for three decades, the announcement came as a surprise. That is, a surprise for anyone who does not know the good Reverend Wilson, a man of faith who has devoted his life to the church and building bridges across all barriers.

“It’s an honor to give our daughter to a man of such high esteem in Tippalonga,” remarked the mother of the bride, Mrs. Bettina Whiteleaf. “I wouldn’t have it any other way. Our Trina is a lucky girl.”

In response to backlash from liberal residents, the future mother-in-law added, “Trina knows I was only thirteen when I married her daddy. It’s perfectly normal for a man to be older than his wife.”

“Where in the cotton-picking hell are we?” I hiss, dropping the paper.

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