The Gentleman Outlaw and Me--Eli

by Mary Downing Hahn

  Hoping he wasn't including me among the lowest types, I asked Calvin what he aimed to do next.

  He shook his head. "This is a sad state of affairs for the Gentleman Outlaw," he said. "Thanks to Roscoe Suggs and his cronies, I have no money, no gun, and no horse. Those scoundrels relieved me of everything, including my watch and my playing cards."

  "I've got some money," I said, hoping to cheer him.

  Calvin raised his eyebrows hopefully. "How much?"

  "I have two gold eagles in my pocket," I boasted, patting my overalls. "Twenty dollars is surely enough to get us on our way to Tinville."

  Calvin's eyebrows drooped and his face took on a glum expression. "That's most generous of you, Elijah, but I fear twenty dollars won't even buy our passage out of Kansas."

  Wishing I'd lied and said I had more, I watched Calvin get to his feet and take a couple of weak little steps, wincing and biting his lip. I jumped up so's he could lean on me. Caesar ran on ahead, pretending he knew just where we were going but looking back every now and then to make sure he was right.

  By the time we reached the railroad tracks, Calvin was breathing hard. His shirt was soaked with sweat, and he was leaning on me heavier and heavier. It must have been about eight in the morning, but the sun was already hot. Gnats added to our discomfort by humming around our heads and nibbling on tender parts such as earlobes and eyelids.

  'You want to sit and rest a spell?" I asked.

  Calvin sank down in the weeds and leaned against a tree. His wound was bleeding again. I could see fresh red spreading across the old brown stains on his shirt sleeve.

  "I can't take another step," he admitted. "Leave me here and go on toward Elms Bluff. It's that way."

  He gestured at a dirt road snaking off along the river and then continued in a voice so low I had to lean close to hear him. "When you come to a little yellow house at the top of a hill, ask for Nellie. Tell her I'm in need of help. She'll know what to do."

  With that, he closed his eyes as if he were too tired to say another word.

  I fanned him with the hat Roscoe had left behind, but Calvin didn't move. 'You look mighty poorly," I whispered.

  "That's odd," he mumbled. "I feel mighty poorly."

  "You aren't fixing to die, are you?"

  "Not if I can help it." Calvin opened those blue eyes of his for a second. "Go on, Elijah. Fetch Miss Nellie."

  I hated to leave Calvin there all by his lonesome, so I persuaded Caesar to stay with him. "Keep him safe," I told my dog. "Don't let anyone come near him."

  Caesar nodded like he understood, and I took off, fearing for Calvin's life.

  By the time I spotted the tumbledown yellow house, I felt like I'd been running and walking, running and walking, for hours. I was glad to see two ladies sitting on the doorstep, fanning themselves. One had long blond hair, and the other had jet black hair done up on top of her head. Frankly, neither color looked natural. Nor did their pink cheeks. Their dresses seemed mighty small somehow, like they'd grown since they'd bought them and could scarcely get the buttons fastened.

  Never having seen ladies like this, I stared so hard they smiled and waved at me.

  "Hey, there," the blonde called. "What are you looking at, boy?"

  The other laughed, showing a mouthful of gold teeth. "Take a picture, why don't you? It'll last a sight longer."

  I was dying of mortification, but I walked up to them even though I knew full well they weren't proper churchgoing ladies. No, sir. They were the kind the preacher talked against on long, hot Sundays. Aunt Mabel wouldn't have gone anywhere near them—which gave me a certain amount of pleasure.

  "Is one of you Miss Nellie?" I asked.

  The blonde tossed her hair. "Who wants to know?"

  "Calvin Featherbone sent me to fetch you," I said. "He's hurt bad."

  Miss Nellie jumped up and pressed her hand to her heart, which you could almost see beating on account of her dress being cut so low. "Oh, I just knowed Calvin was going to get hisself in trouble," she cried. "I told him to stay clear of that low-down scum Roscoe. Didn't I, Pearl?"

  "You surely did, honey." Miss Pearl heaved herself up beside Miss Nellie and laid a big soft white hand on my shoulder. "Where is the poor young man?"

  "In a grove of trees beside the train tracks, about two miles from here. He can't walk all this way. Can you fetch him in a buggy?"

  Miss Pearl nodded real solemn-like and turned to Miss Nellie. "Harness up Fancy. While you're gone, I'll heat some water."

  I followed Miss Nellie around back to the stable. A sorry-looking old gray horse raised up its head and looked down its nose at me. I swear its teeth were worn down worse than Miss Pearl's.

  "Give me a hand with the harness, boy," said Miss Nellie.

  Between the two of us, we were on the road in just a few minutes, which was a good thing because that horse wasn't going to get us to Calvin any sooner than if we'd walked.

  "How bad is Calvin hurt?" Miss Nellie asked.

  "Mr. Roscoe Suggs shot him in the left arm. I reckon he was aiming for his heart but he was too drunk to shoot straight."

  "I warned Calvin not to cheat Roscoe, I begged him, but would that boy listen to me? No, sir, he would not." Miss Nellie flicked the reins so hard they stung the horse's back. "Some folks think they know it all, but talking like you swallowed a dictionary don't mean a thing if you ain't got any common sense."

  Miss Nellie went on in that vein, working herself up into a real temper. If she was to be believed, the Gentleman Outlaw had a lot to learn. Some of what she said I agreed with. I'd already noticed Calvin's snobby airs and fancy words, but I hoped he wasn't as foolish as she thought he was.

  "Now he's probably up and died on me," Miss Nellie said, "which is just the sort of selfish thing he'd do. No consideration for anybody. Probably expects me to pay for his burial too."

  By now Miss Nellie was crying. Tears ran down her cheeks, leaving little tracks in her pink powder. "Oh, that Calvin Featherbone," she sobbed. "I wish to heaven I'd never seen his face."

  Finally we came over the crest of a hill and saw Calvin lying under the tree where I'd left him. Caesar sat beside him, keeping watch like a good dog.

  When he caught sight of Miss Nellie and me, the Gentleman Outlaw raised his head and made a sort of grimace meant to be a smile. "What took you so confounded long?" he asked. "I'm astonished I lived to see you again."

  Miss Nellie didn't say a word, not even an "I told you so." She just gathered Calvin up, hurt arm and all, and kissed him till he begged her to let loose of him. He said it fancier, of course, but that was the gist of it.

  With me on one side and Miss Nellie on the other, we got Calvin into the buggy. Caesar lay down beside him, and I took my seat next to Miss Nellie. Back to the little yellow house we went, slow and easy, trying not to jostle Calvin.

  Miss Pearl was waiting for us on the steps. She and Miss Nellie helped Calvin inside and laid him on a bed. While I watched with a kind of horrified fascination, they started peeling the handkerchief off Calvin's arm. I knew it hurt, but he didn't whimper, just clenched his teeth till his jaw nearly busted.

  "Looks like it's infected," Miss Pearl said. "Fetch the hot water, Nellie. I'll be needing clean rags, too, and some of my remedies."

  Turning to me, Miss Pearl added, "You go on outside and wait. We don't want no boy nor his dog in here getting in the way."

  While Miss Nellie and Miss Pearl worked on Calvin, I sat on the old splintery steps and watched the afternoon shadows creep toward the house. The closer they got, the cooler it felt. Seemed like the earth didn't hold May sunshine long.

  After a while, Miss Pearl came out and took a seat beside me. "That's a nice dog you got," she said.

  I looked at Caesar. He was lying beside me, his head on my knee, slobbering on my overalls, just as happy as he could be. "He's not half-bad," I admitted, but it wasn't Caesar I was interested in talking about. "How's Calvin feeling, ma'am?"

  "Oh, I 'spect
he'll live till the next time somebody takes a shot at him."

  Miss Pearl sighed and patted my head. "Lordy, boy, your hair's a sight. Looks like somebody hacked it off with a dull knife. You come inside and let me barber it nice for you."

  Next thing I knew Miss Pearl had me in a chair with an apron tied round my neck. Clip clippety clip. Snip snippety snip. In no time at all, the floor around me was covered with little red ringlets coiled tight as watch springs.

  Miss Pearl looked at them. "It's a shame to waste such pretty curls on a boy," she said.

  I kept my head down so's she wouldn't see the flush creeping over my skin. It made me nervous having her so close. Surely something would give me away and she'd see I was a girl.

  "What's this?" Just as I feared, she'd found the locket under my shirt.

  I tried to snatch it away, but Miss Pearl was too fast. In a flash, she had the locket open and was staring at Mama's and Papa's tiny faces.

  "It's all I got left of my folks," I whispered. "I wear it close to my heart to keep it safe."

  Miss Pearl shut the locket and let me slide it under my shirt again. "Poor little lamb," she said softly. "Are you alone in this world?"

  "Mama's been dead for nigh onto five years, but Papa's prospecting for silver and gold in Colorado. That's where I'm bound."

  "Ain't nobody getting rich mining nowadays," said Miss Pearl. 'Your pa done missed the good years."

  I shrugged. "I don't care whether he's rich or poor, just so long as I find him."

  Miss Pearl nodded as if she understood. Picking up a broom, she started sweeping my curls onto a sheet of newspaper. The headline caught my eye: DISAPPEARANCE ENDS IN TRAGEDY. Squinting hard, I made out my own name as well as Homer and Mabel Watkins's, but the print was too small to read the details.

  I guess Miss Pearl saw what I was staring at, because she got a melancholy look on her face. Stooping down, she picked up the paper and handed it to me.

  "That's the saddest thing I ever heard tell of," she said. "This poor little old girl disappeared from her home over to Bardett. Yesterday some fishermen found her dress in the river not far from here. No sign of her body yet, but the sheriffs calling it murder."

  Miss Pearl wiped a tear away. "Eliza Yates was an orphan, poor thing, but unlike you and me, she had kind and loving relatives to look after her. Their hearts are just plain broke."

  You can bet I was busting to set Miss Pearl straight about those poor grieving relatives. In fact, I had to bite my tongue to keep quiet.

  Miss Pearl sighed and swept up the last curl. "Just 'cause you're a boy, don't think you're safe," she said. "There's a lot of wickedness in this old world."

  When she wasn't looking, I slipped the paper into my overalls pocket, hoping to keep Calvin from reading about Eliza Yates. No telling what ideas her name might give him about my name.

  But Calvin wasn't the only reason I wanted that paper. It's not every day a girl gets to read the story of her own death.

  6

  WHEN SHE WAS SATISFIED WITH MY APPEARance, Miss Pearl handed me Roscoe's old hat, kissed me on the nose, and sent Caesar and me out to the stable. "Nellie's got Calvin hid away in the hay," she said. "We'll bring you some supper later, but you stay put. There's no telling what kind of company we'll get tonight. If Roscoe was to show up—"

  She didn't have to say another word. Caesar and I hightailed it to the stable, where we found Calvin taking his ease.

  "Well, well," he said, clapping eyes on my haircut. "Aren't you the dandy, Elijah."

  "You look a sight perkier yourself," I said, flopping down beside him. Miss Nellie had found him a clean shirt and put his arm in a sling. Although he was still shadowy around the eyes, he'd gotten some color in his cheeks.

  "Nellie and Pearl are of the opinion I'll live," Calvin said.

  "When do they think you'll be fit to travel?"

  "In a week or two." Calvin yawned. "Rest is what I need," he said, closing his eyes. "I lost a copious amount of blood, you know."

  Taking the hint, I rolled over on my back and let myself sink into the soft hay. The sun came through the stable door slantwise and warmed my face. Dust motes danced in shafts of light. Birds sang in the woods. Nearby, Caesar scratched his fleas. It wasn't often either one of us had a chance to lie still and do nothing. I decided to enjoy it as long as I could.

  ***

  As it turned out, we ended up spending a little less than two weeks with Miss Pearl and Miss Nellie. During that time, I had plenty to eat and no work to do. No cross words or beatings either. Little Homer would have thrown a fit if he'd seen me lounging by the creek with a fishing rod or roaming through the woods picking blueberries for one of Miss Pearl's pies. I was leading the ideal boy's life and loving every minute of it.

  At night I'd nestle down in the hay near Calvin and ask him questions about his past. Bit by bit, I pieced together his life story. Though he spun the tale in long fancy words and complicated sentences, this was the gist of it.

  Long before Calvin himself was born, his daddy owned a plantation in Maryland. When the Civil War broke out, Mr. Calvin Thaddeus Featherbone, Senior, joined the Confederate Army, which riled me somewhat as my daddy fought for the Union. In fact, it was all I could do to keep from calling Mr. Featherbone a dirty low-down traitor. Even though it's all water under the bridge now, folks in Kansas don't have much love for rebels. We suffered a great deal at their hands.

  Anyhow, when Calvin's daddy came home from the war, he found his plantation in ruins. The slaves had run off (hooray for them) and the crops hadn't been planted and the house was in sorry shape because the Union troops had used it for their headquarters, resulting in much of it being blown up by the rebels. Mr. Featherbone tried to farm his land himself but he soon went broke, as he'd never done any hard work before, poor man.

  For a while, Calvin's granddaddy helped out. He was a rich man, a millionaire, Calvin claimed, who lived in a big fancy mansion in Baltimore. Trouble was, he hadn't wanted his daughter to marry Calvin Thaddeus Featherbone, Senior. Thought he was a lazy, no-account southern sympathizer, which led to bad feelings all around.

  Not long after Calvin was born, Mr. Featherbone got fed up with taking charity from a man who despised him. Leaving his wife and son behind, he headed west just as my daddy had done. He soon discovered gambling was an easier way to get rich than prospecting. If Calvin could be believed, Mr. Featherbone, Senior, was Doc Holliday's equal, good at cards and good at shooting but always a perfect gentleman—like Calvin himself.

  Sad to say, just as he was about to make a real name for himself, Mr. Featherbone had the misfortune to get killed by the sheriff of Tinville. When the news came, Calvin's mother made her son promise to avenge his daddy's death. Then she died herself. Of a broken heart, I reckon.

  Three months before I met him, Calvin had left Maryland, dressed in expensive clothes and riding a fine black horse. He was heading west with some of his grandfather's money in his pocket, a silver-handled pistol in his belt, and revenge in his heart. But through a series of misfortunes, Calvin ended up losing everything except the revenge in his heart.

  "Ambushed, robbed, and left for dead by a trio of inept scoundrels," he summed up his story one night. "Rescued by a twelve-year-old boy and nursed back to health by a pair of good-hearted ladies. I'm a disgrace to my father's memory."

  "But you're an outlaw," I reminded him. "Surely you can get rich again by robbing a bank or holding up a train."

  Calvin shook his head. "A fine outlaw I am. No gun, no horse, and no money to purchase either."

  So saying, he rolled himself up in his blanket, turned his back on me, and fell asleep.

  ***

  The very next morning, Miss Pearl sat us down at the kitchen table and said she didn't know how much longer she could keep feeding us. "Times are tough, Calvin. It's getting harder and harder to earn a living the way the new sheriffs carrying on, but I'm willing to keep the boy if he wants to stay."

  She gav
e me a big grin that showed all her gold teeth. "I'll make sure you get enough to eat, Eli. You and your dog both."

  Much as I appreciated Miss Pearl's generosity, I spoke up fast. "Thank you kindly, but I'll go with Calvin. I have to find my father, you know."

  "Fathers," Miss Pearl muttered, heading for the kitchen. "I swear they cause more trouble and heartbreak than anything else in this miserable world."

  Miss Nellie turned to Calvin, her pretty face screwed up with worry. "Are you still planning to hunt that sheriff down?"

  "Of course I am," Calvin said.

  "Oh, Lord," Miss Nellie cried. 'You can't even defend yourself against a drunken no-account bum like Roscoe Suggs. How do you expect to take on a lawman?"

  Calvin's face flushed with anger. "You underestimate me, Nell! That cowardly Suggs lay in wait and took me by surprise. It will be a different matter when I step off the train in Tinville. I'll have the upper hand there, not Yates."

  "I swear you're just bound and determined to get yourself killed," Miss Nellie said. Without looking at Calvin again, she burst into tears and ran from the room.

  Calvin went after her, but I stayed at the table, too worried to move. Miss Nellie's words hung in the air like a bothersome echo. I hoped she was wrong about the Gentleman Outlaw. I didn't want to see him killed in Tinville any more than she did.

  After a long while, Calvin came back to the table, but Miss Nellie stayed in her room. Even with the door shut, I could hear her crying.

  "Are we leaving now?" I asked.

  Instead of answering, Calvin drummed his fingers on the table, glancing at me every now and then like he had something on his mind. The longer he sat there, the uneasier I got. If Miss Pearl hadn't been making such a ruckus washing dishes, I'd have gone to the kitchen just to get away from Calvin, but I reckoned she was in a bad mood and might put me to work scrubbing pots.

  At last Calvin spoke. "How much money did you say you have, Elijah?"

  "Twenty dollars."

  Calvin held out his hand. "Let me see it."

  When I hesitated, he reached across the table and pulled a gold coin out of my ear. "My, my," he said. "Look what I found."