Summary:  A Challenge story where we were given a title and had to write a story to fit it.

Rated: K+ (1,250 words)

 

Death’s Letter ‘S’

“Hey, Joe!” Hoss Cartwright greeted his younger brother as Joe stepped from the livery stable onto the main street of the little town the two had ridden into earlier. “I done got us a room for the night.”

“I’m sure glad to hear that.” Joe told him, trying unsuccessfully to restrain a wide yawn. “Because I’m so darn tired I could sleep for a week.”

“I was kinda hopin’ we could get sumphin’ to eat before we turned in.” Hoss said, a gloomy expression settling on his face as he rubbed his generous stomach. “‘Cause I’m powerful hungry, but the desk clerk at the hotel said the restaurant closed an hour ago.”

“Couldn’t he make you a sandwich or something?” Joe asked sympathetically, following his brother as he led the way across the street to the Silver Junction Hotel.

“I asked, but he said he weren’t allowed in the kitchen.” Hoss pushed open the door of the hotel and stood back to let Joe enter first. “Room’s on the second floor,” He told him, fumbling for the key in his pocket. “Number Fifteen.”

Giving a quick nod to the desk clerk, who stood impassively watching as the brothers crossed the lobby, Joe and Hoss made their way to the staircase.

Opening the door of number fifteen, Joe flung himself down on one of the two beds that stood side by side in the room. “See you in the morning, brother.” He announced, pulling his hat down over his eyes and settling back on the pillow.

“‘Ain’t you even gonna take your boots off?” Hoss asked as he lit the lamp that stood on the washstand opposite the beds.

“Guess I’d better.” With a reluctant sigh Joe sat up and pulled his boots off, letting them drop to the floor with a clatter. “And I suppose I’d best wash some of this trail dust off as well.”

Removing his own boots, Hoss went to crack open the window, letting a little cool night air into the room. Joe was pulling on a nightshirt as he turned back into the room and by the time Hoss had washed and changed the younger man was under the sheets, his eyes closed.

Picking up the lamp, Hoss was about to put it on the dresser that stood between the two beds, when his attention was caught by something in the dust on the wooden top of the piece of furniture. “You practisin’ your writin’ Joe?” He asked with a laugh.

“Writing?” Joe opened his eyes, looking sleepily over at his brother. “What are you talking about?”

“Just there.” Hoss pointed at the top of the dresser. “You do that?”

Sitting up, Joe peered blearily at a large letter S clearly visible in the dust. “Looks like the place could do with some cleaning.” He remarked, wiping the S away with his fingertip. “I didn’t write it, must have been there when we got here.”

With a shrug, Hoss dismissed the subject and lay back on the bed. “Sure is comfortable.” He said with a yawn. “Reckon we’ll sleep well tonight, eh Joe?” The only reply from the other bed was a soft snore, and Hoss chuckled quietly as he closed his eyes.

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Awaking with a start, Hoss found the room still light; he’d been so tired that he’d fallen asleep without dousing the lamp. Sighing, he rolled over and sat up, reaching out to the lamp. The movement was halted as he saw that the S, which Joe had wiped away, was now clearly visible again. “Hey, Joe.” He hissed at his brother after staring at the letter for a moment. “Joe!”

“Wha..?” Joe’s voice was heavy with slumber. “Wassa matter?”

“Did you put that S back there?” Hoss asked sharply.

“I wiped it away.” Joe said, not bothering to open his eyes. “Lemme sleep, Hoss.”

“But it’s back.” Hoss told him. “Take a look.”

Reluctantly Joe dragged himself into a sitting position and tried to focus on the dresser. “So ‘tis.” He mumbled eventually. “Now can I go back to sleep?”

“Don’t you think that’s kinda odd?” Hoss queried with a frown. “How’d it get there?”

“I dunno.” Joe leant over and wiped his hand across the surface of the dresser obliterating the letter. “But it’s gone now.” He declared, laying back down and pulling the covers up around him. ” Forget it, Hoss, and go to sleep.”

Turning out the lamp, Hoss tried to follow his brother’s advice, but sleep was a long time coming, the reappearing letter making him feel uneasy. Eventually tiredness overcame him and he drifted off into a light doze.

It was the smell of burning that woke him next. The window gave just enough light to make out clouds of smoke billowing through the room and with a gasp of alarm he leapt from the bed, reaching to shake Joe awake.

“Fire!” He yelled, as his brother blinked and woke. “We gotta get out!”

Shocked into alertness Joe was up and heading for the door before Hoss had time to warn him that the whole hotel could be ablaze. The warning wouldn’t have been needed; Joe opened the door into a quiet smoke-free corridor.

“What the…!” Puzzled, Joe looked back at Hoss. “What’s going on?”

Not answering, Hoss went to fling the window wider, and almost instantly the smoke disappeared.

“I don’t understand this.” Coming back into the room, Joe watched as Hoss lit the lamp. “Where did that smoke come from?”

“Joe…” Hoss’ voice held a quiver as the lamplight illuminated the dresser. “Look at this.”

Once again the letter S was clearly visible in the dust. “I don’t like this.” Joe gingerly touched the dresser top. “I know that letter was gone, and how did it get dusty again?”

“I don’t reckon it is dust.” Hoss said, leaning closer to examine the dresser. “I reckon it’s ash.”

“Ash!” Joe exclaimed. “But…” Whatever he was about to say was forgotten as, while the two brothers watched in horror, a second letter S began to form beside the first.

Without a word both Hoss and Joe grabbed up their belongings and ran for the exit.

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“Well?” Hoss asked, as he turned from saddling Chub to see Joe enter the livery stable. “You find anythin’ out?”

“Yep.” Joe looked a little pale as he recounted what the sheriff of Silver Junction had just told him. “Seems a few years back a girl was murdered in that room, stabbed.”

Hoss swallowed hard. “Her name would’na have begun with an S I sp’ose?” He asked.

Joe shook his head. “She was called Jane.” He told him. “The man who did it set fire to the place, guess he wanted to destroy the evidence.”

“Then she was burned as well?” Hoss shuddered at the thought. “Poor woman.”

“Sheriff said the fire didn’t burn the body.” Joe said softly. “The alarm was raised and they managed to put it out before it reached the bed. But it seems that she wasn’t quite dead when the killer left her. Before she died she managed to scrawl the initials of her murderer. He hung for it.”

“And his initials were?” Hoss asked, his voice a husky whisper.

“Fella’s name was Sam Smith.” Joe said, confirming what Hoss had already guessed. “His initials were S.S.”

THE END