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for the eyes of the man in black had turned crimson
    red and were glowing.
    “Sweet Merciful Alel,” the stage driver whispered, and made the Sign of the Slain
    One across his chest.
    Mystery and her daughter came out of the bathroom slowly, having heard the
    infuriated shout. The child was clinging to her mother.
    “What’s wrong?” Mystery asked. She looked from Glyn to the woman who was
    scurrying into what must be the kitchen as fast as her pudgy legs would carry her.
    Glyn had to force the rage down within himself and it took him a moment to
    answer. He shook his head to clear it, making certain mother and child did not see the
    blood-red pulsing of his gaze. “Nothing,” he answered.
    Judd DePalmer took a step forward. His hands were trembling as he pointed to the
    trestle table. “T-Take a seat, m-ma’am,” he offered Mystery. “S-Supper will be up sshortly.”
    Glyn was trying desperately to get his anger under control. It had not been a good
    day for him and it was ending almost as hatefully as it had begun. A part of him wished
    he were still locked in the containment cell at the Citadel where he had spent three
    months of living hell the winter past. Anything would be better than this violent urge to
    pulverize the station manager’s hateful wife. Such feelings toward a female were so
    beyond his normal behavior it scared the hell out of him.
    The little girl had stuck her thumb in her mouth but now she pulled it out with a
    loud popping sound. “Glynnie, why are you shaking?” Valda asked as she and her
    mother moved toward the table.
    “I’m okay, babban ,” Glyn said, and managed to finally swallow his fury. He swept
    the hat from his head and tossed it on a chair. “I’m okay.”
    “Swear?” Valda said.
    24
    My Reaper’s Daughter
    “Aye,” the Reaper replied. He came to the table and swung a long leg over the
    bench. “Sit down now. Everything’s all right.” He looked over at the men, his
    expression stern. “Sit.”
    The three men rushed to do as the lawman ordered, nearly toppling one another as
    they slammed down onto the bench. The station manager stood where he was,
    seemingly unable to do anything else. From the kitchen, Alice DePalmer came
    waddling in with three plates of food on a large tray.
    Glyn stared unblinkingly at the obese woman, watching every move she made as
    she set a plate before him then hurried to place the other two before backing away, the
    tray held before her like a shield. When he silently cocked his head toward the kitchen,
    she spun around and hurried away.
    “What did the poor woman do?” Mystery asked him quietly.
    “Nothing you have to worry about, milady,” Glyn replied. He took up his knife and
    fork and grimly began scoring the ham steak that had been set in front of him.
    Mystery frowned before picking up her own knife and fork and then leaning over
    to cut her daughter’s food. As she did, she kept glancing up at the silent Reaper as he
    ruthlessly shoveled food into his mouth, watching him chew methodically, his amber
    eyes hard and glinting. She knew he could not possibly be savoring what he ate.
    “He’s mad, Mama,” Valda whispered. “Really mad.”
    “Eat your supper, sweetie,” her mother told her.
    The meal continued beneath a heavy pall of silence while outside the rain slammed
    brutally against the wooden building. The wind howled like a banshee and blasted
    against the wooden building. Constantly the lightning would crack overhead and each
    time it did, the Reaper would flinch. Those seated at the table with him and the two
    who stood close by should they be needed noticed the haunted look in the tall man’s
    eyes as the storm raged. They saw the way his hand shook each time the shriek of
    lightning came.
    After the table had been cleared, Alice DePalmer was quick to disappear from sight.
    Her husband, the driver, his partner and the man from the stage—who had identified
    himself as Buford Rourke, a salesman of