Snippet #2598253

Horatio absently took in Otto's musings and speculations, taking a good look at the exterior of the ranch himself. Like Otto, he noted that it looked surprisingly...intact. Not much marred the main ranch house and the few outlaying buildings, aside from wear-and-tear typical of the frontier. It certainly didn't look like a firefight had taken place here, if it was true that the ranches were being attacked.

What did that mean, then? They must have been taken by surprise...slaughtered before they had a chance to fight back. But by the time the Daniels Ranch had been hit...they knew that four other families had been taken out. They would have been prepared to fight for their survival at this point. The menfolk woulda stayed up all night, their guns pointed out the windows of the house. Their was no way they could have been taken by surprise.

And then, there was the children. Horatio silently recounted the names of all the missing children, given to him by Sheriff Thompson on the way out of town. Sarah Smith, Muriel Smith, Jack Peterson, Andrew Peterson, Harold Jones, Bradley Jones, Steven Williamson, Beth Williamson, Rachel Williamson, and Elizabeth Daniels. A total of eleven, orphaned children missing, all under the age of twelve, the youngest of them five years old.

What did these bandits, or whoever, want with these children, though? Horatio couldn't fathom a reason. Well, he could, but...it was simply too horrible to think about for long.

Jeremiah Daniels had been left behind, however, even though his younger sister was taken by these scoundrels. Why? Was it because the boy was blind? It must have been, since Horatio couldn't think of any other reason. But what did it all mean? This all had to make sense, somehow, but Horatio didn't know how just yet. He was missing some pieces of the puzzle, here...

"I doubt this was just some simple feud." Horatio spoke up, looking over at Otto. "This feels...more than that."

With that said, the older Dog opened up the front door, entering the house with his compatriot. Immediately, a raw stench hit the two of them, causing Horatio to pause slightly, grimacing as he held a hand to his nose. Undeterred, he soldiered into the house, heading for the source of the smell.

It didn't take long to find. He and Otto came upon the family dining room, where the Daniels family's last meal remained untouched. The table was set for dinner, and the partially eaten food, long since expired and rotted, still sat on the tabletop, silverware and plates strewn about. Horatio could easily tell the smell came from the rotting food, which made him feel strangely relieved. He half expected to find a new body here or something, from that stench.

Beneath the table, dried pools of blood absolutely soaked the wooden floor, extending outwards toward Horatio and Otto. It was obvious that most of the Daniels family had died here, in this room.

"Looks like they got taken out during dinner," Horatio commented, still holding a hand to his nose. He furrowed his brow, trying to make sense of the scene. "How, though? It doesn't make sense. They would have heard the gunshots from the men killed out front. No way they would have stayed in their seats."

As Horatio considered the matter, he noticed a lone bottle of whiskey placed on the table, that somehow stood out from the rest of the food and drinks on the table. He reached over and picked it up, weighing it in his hand. It was almost empty, with only a sliver of alcohol left inside of it.

Horatio stared down at the bottle thoughtfully, an idea slowly forming in his mind. It made a disturbing amount of sense, the more he thought about it...

"Maybe..." Horatio turned to look over at Otto, the bottle clutched in his hands. "Maybe they were already dead, when they were shot. It's the only thing that makes sense. Someone drugged their whiskey, poisoned them dead. That way they're out of commission, leaving...whoever did this, free to make it look like they got raided by bandits."