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    Spider Rain
    Spider Rain
    Spider Rain
    Ebook299 pages3 hours

    Spider Rain

    By John Locke

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    About this ebook

    It’s business as usual for Emmett Love as he attempts to overcome terminal illness; murderous, cave-dwelling cannibals; looters; schemers; fraudsters; bounty hunters; mercenaries; and the crazy cast of characters who are somehow beating him in his reelection for sheriff.

    PRELIMINARY COMMENTS:

    “The excruciatingly long wait for Spider Rain is finally over, and it doesn’t disappoint! Poor Emmett appears to be the only sane person in Dodge, and that makes for lots of laughs. Of course, precocious little Scarlett—my favorite character—outdoes herself, yet again.”

    “Of all the books John Locke writes, the westerns are my favorites. Spider Rain—announced a year ago—is here at last. I was mildly annoyed the author wrote and published two other books while writing this one, but he says the westerns are a labor of love, and maybe what makes them so special is the extra time he puts into writing them. Spider Rain will give you at least one smile per page. It’s Locke at his best.”

    “John has confided this might be his last western. I sincerely hope that’s not the case, because reading these books is like spending quality time with your favorite friends and family. Spider Rain is funny and sad and hopeful and crazy and good-hearted and I loved every minute of it.”

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherJohn Locke
    Release dateOct 27, 2016
    ISBN9781937656065
    Spider Rain
    Author

    John Locke

    John Locke kommt 1632 im englischen Wrington zur Welt. Nach dem Besuch der Westminster School in London studiert Locke bis 1658 in Oxford. Zwischen 1660 und 1664 lehrt er dort Philosophie, Rhetorik und alte Sprachen. Sein enzyklopädisches Wissen und seine Studien in Erkenntnistheorie, Naturwissenschaften und Medizin bringen ihm früh die Mitgliedschaft in der Royal Society ein. Als Sekretär und Leibarzt des Earl of Shaftesbury ist Locke in Folge der politischen Machtkämpfe in England gezwungen, ins holländische Exil zu fliehen. Erst 1689 kehrt er nach England zurück und widmet sich auf seinem Landgut seinen Studien. Im selben Jahr erscheint anonym Ein Brief über Toleranz, der die ausschließliche Aufgabe des Staates im Schutz von Leben, Besitz und Freiheit seiner Bürger bestimmt. Die hier formulierten Ideen finden in der amerikanischen Unabhängigkeitserklärung ihren politischen Widerhall. Lockes Hauptwerk, der Versuch über den menschlichen Verstand, erscheint erst 1690 vollständig, wird aber vermutlich bereit 20 Jahre früher begonnen. Es begründet die Erkenntnistheorie als neuzeitliche Form des Philosophierens, die besonders in der französischen Aufklärung nachwirkt. Locke lehnt darin Descartes' Vorstellung von den eingeborenen Ideen ab und vertritt einen konsequenten Empirismus. Aus der theoretischen Einsicht in die Begrenztheit der Erkenntnisfähigkeit ergibt sich für Locke die Forderung, daß sich weder ein Staatssouverän noch eine Glaubensgemeinschaft im Besitz der allein gültigen Wahrheit wähnen darf. Der mündige Bürger, der in der Lage ist, kritisch selbst zu entscheiden, wird konsequenterweise zum pädagogischen Ziel Lockes. John Locke stirbt 1704 als europäische Berühmtheit auf seinem Landsitz in Oates.

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      Book preview

      Spider Rain - John Locke

      I ain’t never seen this but once before, and when I did it weren’t even half this bad.

      Gentry ain’t seen nothin’ like it ever.

      We’re starin’ out the window with our mouths gaped open, ’cause the whole yard is covered in white, and sheets of white silk are fallin’ from the sky, with no end in sight.

      What’s happened? Gentry says, with only half a breath behind her words. "Is it a doomsday sign?"

      I turn to look at her. Gentry don’t frighten easy, but this has her spooked. She’s standin’ stock-still, tremblin’ like a small animal that fell from a tall tree.

      I don’t know much about signs, I say, but it’s got a name.

      Say it.

      Spider rain.

      "Those are spiders?"

      Best I can tell.

      "That can’t be, Emmett. There’d have to be millions to do this."

      "Billions!" the excited voice behind us says.

      The voice belongs to Scarlett, our five-year-old.

      Don’t look, honey! Gentry says, runnin’ toward her.

      I already saw it from my window, Scarlett says. "Isn’t it beautiful?"

      "Beautiful ain’t the word I’d use," I say.

      She cocks her head. "What word would you use?"

      I start to speak, then frown, ’cause when it comes to word-usin’, I’m the least skilled in the family. Gentry’s far better, but the truth is, Scarlett herself is the best I know at describin’ things, though she’s but five. Then I glance out the window and suddenly surprise myself with how many words come to mind, so I offer ’em up all at once: Terrifyin’? Horrifyin’? Ungodly? Unnatural?

      Those are all good words, Papa, Scarlett says, but they don’t describe the situation.

      They don’t?

      No sir.

      I rub my face to feel the scratchy beard stubble Gentry likes least, which reminds me to give my razor a good stroppin’ so I won’t cut myself in six places like the last time I shaved. Normally I’d have shaved already, but I s’pect Gentry’ll be happy to wait till we’re convinced the world ain’t on the verge of endin’. I notice Scarlett ain’t the least bit worried about doomsday, though that ain’t necessarily a good thing.

      You say a billion spiders are rainin’ down on our house and yard and the best word to describe it is beautiful?

      Yes sir.

      I give her a look. Them that know Scarlett consider her a good child to avoid, since the looks she gives and the words she speaks can be disconcertin’ to folks. Like the way she’s liable to meet a stranger and tell ’em the day and year they were born and the day and year they’ll die. Her Godmother, Rose Stout, says Scarlett was born with witchy ways, and I got no reason to doubt her. But Rose can’t deny the part she’s played in teachin’ our girl things other folks don’t know about, since she devotes herself to Scarlett’s learnin’ like farmers dedicate themselves to cultivatin’ their land. Except that the learnin’ Rose offers ain’t the kind you’re likely to find anyplace I’ve ever been.

      She’s taught Scarlett about potions and spells and from the time Scarlett began practicin’ them lessons, numerous strange things have happened to our small family and town. Most have been good, but some ain’t been good at all, like the time she put a spell on me that made me irresistible to one of the town women, or the time she got mad and caused a man’s head to explode. A’ course, he was a vile man who wanted to peek at her under garments, so I can’t judge her too harshly for it. Still, I thought it wise to teach her ways to control her temper, even though Rose says that doin’ so will stifle Scarlett.

      I look outside the window again and wonder if Scarlett could have possibly done this, even with Rose’s help. I mean sure, she’s proven she can talk to snakes, and can influence people to do things, and tell some parts of the future, but this is far beyond anything she’s done in the past. Nevertheless, it don’t make sense not to ask, so I say, What do you know about this, young lady?

      Gentry says, "Emmett! How dare you accuse Scarlett?"

      I ain’t accusin’ her, I’m just askin’ politely if she’s got any idea what’s goin’ on.

      Of course, Papa, Scarlett says. These are my friends, come to visit.

      Gentry’s eyes bug out. "Friends? They’re spiders! And if you think I’m going to let them in my house—"

      Scarlett’s hands go to her hips. She juts her jaw in that defiant way she has and says, They’ll come in anytime they please, and there won’t be a thing you can do about it!

      Gentry sets her own jaw and turns to me. Emmett? Did you hear that?

      A ’course I did. I’m standin’ right here, ain’t I?

      I hope you don’t intend to let her talk to me like that, she says, showin’ me the look she’s perfected that tells me exactly how I’m supposed to answer.

      I say, I ain’t takin’ her side against yours, which causes Scarlett to give me a serious frown of her own. Not wantin’ to be caught between two feisty females I add: But I reckon what Scarlett said is partly true: spiders are mighty small, and they’re gifted climbers. If they want to come in under our door or down our chimney, I doubt there’s much we can do.

      We can kill them day and night, Gentry says.

      The look Scarlett gives her ma is easier to see than explain, but it ain’t a happy one. I hold my hand flat, which is my signal to remind Scarlett not to lose her temper. This, ’cause I don’t consider it stiflin’ to make sure my beautiful Gentry’s face and head stays on her shoulders.

      Scarlett sees my hand and calms down a bit, though her voice has a menacin’ tone as she says, You’ll be nice to my friends.

      Or what? Gentry says.

      Or you’ll be sorry.

      Gentry slaps her. Scarlett’s mouth curls into an evil smile and her eyes blaze that same yellow glow you see when wolves approach your campfire in the dark of night. It’s the kind of eyes that make you wish you were elsewhere, which is what I’m feelin’ right now.

      Gentry says, "You’ll not take that tone with me, young lady!"

      Scarlett looks at me. You’re going to let her slap me like that?

      I bite my bottom lip. "Well, at least she explained why she slapped you. I never got them types of explanations when my ma slapped me."

      So just to be clear, our five-year-old says, You condone this behavior?

      I ain’t got the slightest idea what that word means, but lookin’ at these fired up females is like watchin’ a giant twister racin’ toward your outhouse and knowin’ you’ve got about five seconds to unload ten minutes of diarrhea. So I say, "Scarlett? Maybe it would help if you give your ma a reason why she ought to be nice to the spiders."

      Gentry says, "And what about you, Emmett?"

      Me?

      "Why am I always the bad parent? Why shouldn’t she have to give you a reason not to kill the billions of spiders about to invade our home?"

      I want to say Well, I ain’t the one who slapped her, but I don’t, ’cause them are the type of comments that leads to cold beds and empty bellies. So I say, Scarlett? Did you and Rose summon these spiders?

      No sir.

      Gentry says, Tell the truth, young lady.

      "I am telling the truth. Rose had nothing to do with it. I invited them."

      Gentry and I look at each other, not knowin’ quite what to say. So I finally come up with, Scarlett? When you claim you’ve got a billion friends who happen to be spiders, and tell us they’ve come to visit…well, it’s a lot of guests for one welcome mat.

      I suppose I should have informed you prior to inviting them.

      "Warned us, you mean!" Gentry says.

      Scarlett sets her jaw and says, Maybe you should have warned us before serving that dinner you cooked last night!

      Gentry’s face turns two shades past red.

      "Don’t you dare slap me again!" Scarlett warns, and Gentry takes note. But she ain’t pleased about it, and I can’t blame her. We know it’s bad parentin’ to let a five-year-old talk back like that, but when the five-year-old can frown a certain way and make your foot fall off you learn to bide your words and actions before bringin’ heavy discipline to bear. I have spanked Scarlett since she’s turned two, but it’s only been a couple times, and both involved gettin’ her permission first. She also occasionally reminds me of the time I threatened to shoot her, but that weren’t a serious threat, and it ain’t happened since. Still, I worry for the man who’ll marry our spirited daughter someday, and s’pect he’ll have his hands full.

      I say, Your ma’s got a point. What’s beautiful to you ain’t necessarily beautiful to others who don’t know the reasons why somethin’ just happened. And wakin’ up to this sight was…what’s the word?

      Horrific? Gentry says.

      No. Dis- somethin’ or other.

      Disconcerting? Scarlett says.

      That’s the one.

      She thinks about it a moment, then says, Papa, you’ve made an excellent point.

      I have?

      I should have explained why I invited my friends to visit.

      Why did you?

      It’s a gift.

      For who?

      You.

      "Me?"

      Yes, of course! She smiles broadly.

      I clap my hands together and say, "Well, that clears it up."

      Gentry gives me a look like she can’t wait to hear this explanation, and I wish I had one. I rub my face and head a minute and try to think of a time I might have said I wanted a gift of a billion spiders, even as a joke, but can’t think of one. But I know a thing or two about bein’ polite when gifts are exchanged, so I say, That was right thoughtful of you, Scarlett. Thank you.

      You like it?

      It’s somethin’ to behold, I say.

      She beams. You’re welcome, Papa.

      Gentry ain’t quite as tickled with the gift. You gave him a gift of a billion spiders?

      Yes ma’am.

      Why?

      Because I love him.

      If that’s true, I can’t wait to see what you’ll give your husband, on your wedding night.

      Want me to say right now?

      No! I say.

      Scarlett looks at her ma and says, You, of all people, should be thrilled I did this.

      Thrilled to have a billion spiders blanketing my house and yard?

      Yes.

      Why?

      They came to save Papa’s life.

      2.

      Nine days ago I woke up to Gentry’s scream.

      What’s wrong? I said, grabbin’ for my gun.

      Your breath!

      What?

      "Your breath! It’s…oh, God!"

      What’s it smell like?

      She covered her nose with her hand and said, The bowels of hell.

      When Scarlett came in to see what all the fuss was about, Gentry shouted, Cover your nose!

      Why?

      The odor might make you sick.

      No it won’t. She stepped closer and said, I’ve smelled worse.

      No she hasn’t! Gentry said. She’s being nice.

      And I appreciate her for it, I said. Then I asked Scarlett, What’s it smell like?

      Hard to say.

      Can you give it a try?

      She grinned. It smells like the door fell off Satan’s outhouse.

      I looked at my daughter carefully before sayin’, Is this your doin’?

      Emmett! Gentry scolded.

      Scarlett said, No, Papa. It’s death breath.

      What’s that?

      You’re dyin’.

      Bite your tongue! Gentry yelled, crossin’ herself.

      It’s true, Scarlett said. I know all about death breath.

      I didn’t bother askin’ how a five-year-old could possibly know about death breath, despite the fact I never heard the two words put together to describe a man’s condition till that moment. But Scarlett tends not to declare things that ain’t true, and the good news is my breath ain’t smelled like that since the mornin’ it happened, or Gentry would’ve told me. Since she hasn’t, I put the whole notion out of my mind till just now. But seein’ these billion spiders and their webs flyin’ through the air and coverin’ the ground of our entire yard I’m compelled to ask, Scarlett? Are these spiders related to the death breath I woke up with last week?

      Yes, sir.

      It’s startin’ to make sense. Sort of.

      What happens next?

      We can invite them in, she says, lookin’ at her ma, Or go outside and let them spin you back to health.

      I look at Gentry and try not to grin. Which would you prefer?

      She says, Just make sure you don’t track them back in the house when you’re done.

      Scarlett says, You can come too.

      Gentry says, I’ll watch from the window.

      As Gentry fusses to get the stove lit and Scarlett goes to her room to put on her outdoor clothes, my mind drifts to the first time I learned Scarlett could summon critters. It was about two years ago in the middle of the harshest winter we’d had in years, and food was scarce. I woke up two hours before dawn with the biggest, stiffest pecker I ever had, and couldn’t wait to show it to Gentry. When I did she said, Good Lord, Emmett! That must hurt something fearful! Were you stung by a scorpion?

      Nope, I said. It just snuck up on me.

      You must’ve been working on it all night.

      If so, I didn’t know it.

      So you’re not in pain?

      Nope. Just the opposite.

      Thank the Lord.

      I already did, I said. But now the question is what should we do about it?

      Aim it the other way and go back to sleep.

      I did what she said, or tried to, but it was like bein’ outdoors among bears: sleep don’t come easy. So I told Gentry I had several ideas how she could help me make the swellin’ go down, but she favored her own idea of sendin’ me to the outhouse to piss. Her plan weren’t nowhere on my list, but I gave it a try and it worked.

      While walkin’ back to the house I noticed a magnificent 8 point buck in the moonlight, not 20 feet from where I stood. I had my rifle with me as I always do when makin’ a trip to the outhouse, so I raised it, aimed it, and brought that buck down with a single shot.

      And that’s when Scarlett commenced screamin’.

      She was much younger back then, and so upset it took me a long time to figure out she summoned that buck as a special surprise. I thanked her for helpin’ put meat on our table in such a harsh time, but she explained that ain’t why she called him. She meant for him to come as a guest. In her mind she was plannin’ to play with him and give him somethin’ to eat and send him back into the woods. I apologized, but she weren’t havin’ none of it.

      "How would you like it if someone shot you?" she asked.

      I told her I’d been shot several times and didn’t like it at all.

      Well how would you like it if someone shot you and put your carcass on our table to eat?

      I saw her point, but we ate that buck anyway. Even Scarlett ate her share, though she did it through bitter, angry tears, and when dinner was done, she insisted we all pitch in and finish dressin’ out the carcass and bury it in the dark of night.

      Gentry, who had already devoted hours to puttin’ that meal on the table said, What in tarnation?

      It’s dead winter, I added. This meat’ll keep just fine till I get a chance to cut it up proper for sharin’ with the town folk. As for buryin’ it, you’re old enough to know it ain’t possible to dig a hole of any size in Dodge City in the winter. The dang ground is harder than a buffalo’s skull.

      Scarlett looked at the partially-dressed deer hangin’ on the hook of our carvin’ station and said, You can’t just leave him there. They’ll see him!

      Who?

      His friends and relatives.

      I frowned. It ain’t like we killed a neighbor.

      "Yes it is, Papa, it’s exactly like that. If Mama someday gets so fed up with Enorma Suitors for flirting with you that she finally strangles her with her bare hands, would you hang Enorma upside down and carve her up one chunk at a time?"

      No, I would not. And that’s a silly question.

      "But if you did hang her up and butchered her body one steak at a time, and left her hanging out there two days for all the world to see, how would her husband and the town people feel about it?"

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