Canadian Red

by R. W. Stone

  “Sure is,” Lucas replied.

  “They look like real ballbusters … kinda like McClellans. I rode one once a while back. Turned out to be real comfortable once you got used to it. They ride a little higher than the other saddles, but you don’t notice it much.”

  Donovan nodded. “That’s been my experience.”

  Pop took a good look at the young man. He took note of his posture and the campaign hat he wore. “You’re a Mountie,” he said, and it wasn’t a question.

  After a moment’s hesitation, Lucas answered: “Not on duty now. I’m just visiting.”

  Pop Ryan looked around the dirty town and grinned.

  “Visiting? Bannack? Sure you are,” the liveryman commented, and shrugged. “Whatever you say … ain’t no business o’ mine.”

  “Just take good care of my horses. Especially Handsome Harry here, and we’ll be friends.”

  Pop looked at the horse’s mule ears. “Handsome, huh? You know, somehow that fits,” he said, and chuckled to himself. “Don’t you worry, I’ll take real good care of them.”

  “See you later,” Lucas said, tipping his hat at the old man before throwing his bags over his shoulder and starting down toward the hotel. The big red-and-white malamute trotting alongside as always.

  The hotel was called the Lucky Strike. It was a two-story affair with new windows at either side of the front entry to the building. Lucas noted that a third floor was under construction with big crossbeams still being hammered into place.

  He entered and approached the front desk. The lobby was clean but relatively plain. A thin man was at the desk, writing in the hotel’s ledger. He had slick hair that was parted in the middle and he wore a small pair of spectacles. He looked up and smiled at Lucas.

  “Afternoon, sir, how may I be of service?” he asked politely as he removed his glasses.

  “I’d like a room for a few nights. Maybe a little longer. You are open, I assume?”

  “Yes, sir, we are. The construction you probably noticed is a third floor addition. We’ll be the tallest building when it’s done.”

  “Business must be good,” Lucas commented.

  “Well, the town is growing, and we hope to continue to do so right along with it,” the clerk stated proudly.

  Donovan nodded his head down toward his dog. “Any problem with him staying with me? He’s no trouble.”

  The man leaned over the desk and smiled. “Good-looking animal. Malamute, isn’t he?”

  “That’s right. Purebred.”

  “I’m a collie man myself. Grew up with one. Great breed, if you don’t mind cleaning your house with a rake.”

  Lucas laughed. “They do shed a mite.”

  “Putting it mildly, sir,” the clerk replied. “But never a more caring or heroic breed, iffen you ask me.”

  “Well, I could argue that with you, but not all folks like the same breed of dog. So I take it you’re saying it’s all right if Red stays with me?”

  The clerk nodded. “No problem for me. Besides, my family owns the place. They’re all dog folks, too, so it’ll be fine. You want my opinion, dogs are a better class of guest than a lot of the humans we’ve had over the years.”

  Lucas nodded his head, chuckling at the remark. “I can assure you, Red, here, will behave himself. Been told there’s a barbershop close by I can get a shave … maybe take a bath?”

  “We hope to get our own bathhouse set up in time … it’d be convenient for our guests,” the clerk explained. “For now, the place next store will have to suffice.”

  “Close enough for government work,” Lucas joked. “I’m not that particular.”

  “It’s a clean place, I assure you. Just mention that we sent you and they’ll take two bits off the bill. Professional courtesy, so to speak.”

  “Thanks, I’ll do that,” Lucas replied. After signing the ledger, he picked up his things and was handed a key.

  “Room two-oh-one. Second floor, on the left,” the clerk explained, pointing to the nearby staircase. “If you need anything, just ask for me. The name’s Shad.”

  “I appreciate it, Shad, and thanks.” Lucas started toward the staircase with Red following, his furry tail happily wagging, knowing he might get a steak to eat.

  After stowing his pack in the room, Lucas decided to check out the barbershop and get cleaned up before checking out the town. He briefly considered bringing the big Sharps rifle along, but decided it was unlikely he’d need it in town. He propped it in the corner behind the door and motioned to Red to follow him out.

  Once on the street, Lucas smiled when he saw a couple of young boys playing hoops and sticks. It had been the most popular game played at school back in Alberta. His teacher had said the game had been around for thousands of years. He remembered hitting a stick against a two-foot-high hoop, trying to keep it turning as he ran beside it.

  Thinking of that reminded him of Jamie’s favorite game, cabin fever ring toss, as they called it. Jamie had the hand-eye coordination needed to swing the two-inch ring hanging from a string attached to the ceiling and hook it to a nail hammered halfway into the wall. Jamie would play the ring toss game for hours, whereas Lucas found it frustrating because it was harder than it looked. Funny, Lucas thought, that remembering his brother at play made him feel both happy and sad at the same time.

  The barbershop was easily identified by the pole—painted red, blue, and white—hanging beside the entrance.

  Back at Fort Macleod, the Mountie always enjoyed the long conversations he had with the fort’s barber, Max Friedman, who loved to tell stories and expound on almost any subject. It was from him that Donovan learned that, in the past, barbers had done a lot more than groom men’s hair, including practicing dentistry, bloodletting, fortune-telling, and phrenology, which involved reading the bumps on a person’s head. He and Jamie would pretend to read the men’s head while in the barracks at night as entertainment.

  The barber’s pole in Bannack had a brass ball at its top, which Friedman said was where barbers kept their leeches for the bloodletting. Also, according to him, the red and white of the pole symbolized the clean and bloodstained bandages of the procedure. Recalling all the odd bits of history Friedman had told him, he wondered if the addition of the blue stripe was an American thing. Lucas considered the barber’s pole to be a clever way for an occupation to draw attention to itself.

  Lucas walked inside and was immediately met by the strong scent of bay rum and alcohol. The two barber chairs on the right were occupied. The barber was just finishing up with a fellow, and the other was occupied by a man lounging back and reading a Beadle dime novel. Two men sat on chairs to the left. Both were nodding off.

  A short, thin man with a handlebar mustache addressed Donovan as he brushed hairs off his customer’s collar. “Welcome, stranger. What’ll it be … shave and a haircut?”

  It had been weeks since Lucas had taken the time to properly groom himself, so he decided to go for the works, even though he could shave himself. As he shrugged out of his jacket, he answered in the affirmative, adding: “Was told by Shad over at the hotel, I could get a bath here, too. And at discount.”

  The man nodded. “Shad was right on all counts. Best bathtubs west of Helena, matter of fact.”

  Donovan still held the door ajar so that Red wouldn’t start scratching at it. “Mind if I down my dog inside?” he asked the barber. “Won’t bother anyone.”

  The barber leaned over to get a better view of Red. His eyes widened, but he thought the stranger looked reliable. “Sure, I guess so. As long as he don’t make a mess. The tubs are right back there … behind the curtain.” He indicated a doorway with a thick velvety-looking curtain drawn over it. “Six bits for twenty minutes,” he told Donovan.

  “Six bits, huh? The water hot?”

  “Is the water hot?” the barber repeated, as he shook his head
and laughed. “There’s a hot spring near here. I pay a young lad to fill and tend to the baths all day long. He can make you boil like a lobster, if you so desire. Keeps the tubs real clean, too. A gratuity for the boy is always appreciated, if you’re pleased.”

  “Warm will be just fine. Mind if I bathe before that shave and haircut, or might there be a wait?”

  “That’ll work out just fine.” The barber pointed to the chairs where the two groggy men were sitting. “Leroy, there”—the barber pointed to the fellow on the left, who opened his eyes briefly at his name being mentioned—“just needs a trim. Charlton, the one on the right, just hangs around all day and sleeps. Think he’s just trying to hide from his old lady.”

  Charlton opened his eyes. “Tain’t at all so,” he said. “I’m just giving her a break from my company, so she don’t get bored with me. Making her ’preciate and miss me, so to speak. Like that saying … absence makes the heart grow fonder.”

  The fellow in the barber chair, reading the novel looked up to say: “Absinthe?”

  “Absinthe what?” LeRoy asked.

  “Makes the heart grow fonder.”

  “Absence,” LeRoy said, and spelled out the word. He paused, then turned to Charlton and asked: “What you want to bet she don’t even notice you’re gone?”

  Lucas had to bite his tongue to keep from laughing, but the barber broke out into loud guffaws. When he finally got his breath back, he wiped the tears from his eyes.

  At the pause in the banter, Lucas asked: “You want your money up front?”

  The barber shook his head. “When you’re done is fine. Don’t rightly think you’ll take off without your clothes, and, besides, who’d want to steal a bathtub, anyway?”

  “A low down dirty crook, eh?” Lucas quipped.

  “Good one,” the barber commented, grinning largely. “I’ll have to remember that.” Then he motioned to the curtain again. “Go on back. The boy’s name is Toby. Mine’s Edwin.”

  “Nice to meet you, Edwin,” Lucas said, and headed to the back room. “Red, there in the corner. Down,” he told the malamute. “If he starts moving around, Edwin, just let me know. As long as he can hear me, he should stay put.”

  It was obvious Edwin was impressed with how obedient the dog appeared to be as he circled before lying down. “Good enough,” said the barber. “By the time you finish with your bath, I should be ready for you. Leroy’s getting a little thin on top …”

  “Hey, watch what you’re saying, Edwin!”

  “Sorry,” the barber said, chuckling. “I thought it was obvious.”

  Donovan pulled the curtain aside and ducked as he walked into a surprisingly large room. There were four tubs, each sectioned off by privacy curtains. The tubs were ceramic, set in a wooden frame. In the middle of the room stood a boy about twelve years of age.

  “You must be Toby,” Lucas said.

  “Yes, sir, I am. The next bath ready will be that one over on the right. We have soap and towels, but if you want scents, that will be a little extra. You know, like perfume … but for men.”

  Lucas began removing his shirt, boots, and pants. “No thanks, soap will do just fine.”

  “Yes, sir. I just added more hot water to that there tub, but I can fetch more if you want it even hotter.”

  Lucas tested the tub with his hand. “This will do, and you don’t have to sir me, Toby, I work for a living. Name’s Lucas.”

  The boy smiled and pulled a couple of towels off a shelf. “Yes, sir. But I’m gonna get some more water, anyway. It tends to cool off pretty quick, and with the hot spring so close, it ain’t really no problem.”

  From the eagerness of his service, it was obvious Toby was working for tips. And Lucas figured the boy would probably end up earning more than just a good living, no matter what he did.

  “Just go on and get in,” Toby said as he walked over to a wall where a large hourglass hung on a rotating bracket. He turned it over. “Just keep an eye on the sand. If it runs out, I have to charge you extra.”

  “Thanks, I’ll remember that, Toby.” As Donovan eased himself into the tub, it felt so good to his sore body that he gave serious consideration to ignoring the hourglass altogether. But a half hour later, after tipping Toby for his attention, Donovan emerged from the back room, clean and refreshed.

  Edwin was waiting for him behind one of the two empty chairs, which he swiveled as Donovan entered the shop. “Please take a seat, mister.”

  “I’ll just sit back and relax while you dandify me,” the Mountie said, stepping into the chair.

  “What’s your pleasure?” the barber asked, draping a large white sheet right below his neck that extended all the way down to his knees.

  “Shave and a light trim. Make sure you clean up the back. Also, I’d appreciate the loan of a bowl, so I can give Red some water.” Edwin was quick to oblige, telling Donovan to stay where he was, that he’d take care of it. As Edwin got a bowl of water from the back room, Lucas unsnapped the flap on his holster out of habit. Most of the Mounties carried their holsters cross-draw style on the left side of the waist, since most seemed to be right-handed, which made for a slower draw than when worn on one’s dominant side. Besides, the cross-draw works better when seated in a tight space. Lucas wasn’t expecting trouble yet, but if something came up, he didn’t want to be hemmed in by the arms of the barber chair. Also, since crossing the border, he felt more strongly that it paid to be cautious in this country.

  After the barber started soaping up his shaving brush, he attempted to make small talk, asking Donovan: “Haven’t seen you before. Just get into town?”

  “Yep. I just rode in,” Lucas replied, keeping his answers short.

  “Planning on staying a while?” Edwin pursued. Although it was custom in the West not to pry too closely into another man’s affairs, the barber seemed to be an exception to the rule.

  “Not trying to be nosy, mind you,” Edwin added, “it’s just that we can always use new clients.” He lathered up Lucas’ face with the foamy shaving brush.

  The Mountie chuckled. “Let’s see how this turns out, before I make any long-term commitments, Edwin.”

  The barber nodded in agreement, sharpening his pearl-handled straight razor on the leather strop that hung on the chair. Edwin began shaving Donovan’s chin. He stopped asking questions, since his client couldn’t respond easily under the circumstances, but he did complain about the noise that had taken over the town since expansion had begun.

  As Edwin wiped the razor on his apron, the Mountie said: “I plan on checking the area out for possible mining prospects. Maybe buy some land or a house.”

  “Well, you came to the right place. Bannack is known for mining. We still got a lot of ore to pull out of the ground, but, of course, things at the mines aren’t as plentiful as when they first started digging around here. It was called Grasshopper Creek back then, ’cause of all the insects.”

  “Well, the town seems to be prospering now,” Lucas observed.

  “Gettin’ right sizable lately, that’s for sure,” the barber agreed.

  “Well, last time I came through, I met a couple of men in a saloon who suggested I might look north or maybe northwest of town for a place that might be up for sale. They said there was a family had some good ground they might be interested in selling. Name was Anderson … no, that wasn’t it. Em …Emmett? Emerson, that was it. Heard of them?”

  At the name Emerson, Donovan felt a stiffening in the barber’s body, and his hand seemed a bit unsteady.

  “Whoa there, old chap,” Lucas said, bringing his hand out from under the sheet and trying to steady the barber’s arm. “Just want a shave. Something wrong?”

  Edwin thought a moment before replying. “You heard anything else about the Emersons?”

  Lucas shook his head. “Like I said … only that they had a mine they weren’
t working and might be interested in selling. Why? Was I steered wrong?”

  Edwin wiped his forehead with the sleeve of his shirt. He looked around before answering. “Well, I don’t like speaking ill of anyone, and please keep this to yourself, but Jack Emerson is … well, frankly he’s an owl hoot. He was gone for a number of years, but I heard he’s back.”

  In his line of work, Donovan had heard the Western expression more than once—owl hoot trail. He took the meaning to be an outlaw skirting the law, which was what Emerson was doing.

  “That bad, huh?” Donovan commiserated.

  Edwin leaned in closer. “As bad as they come,” he whispered. “They say when he was a teenager, he used to torture animals. You know the type … just bad through and through. Rumor is, that up north across the border, Jack once shot a man in a hotel right through the wall simply because the man’s snoring bothered him. Take my advice and stay clear of him. And his whole family.”

  “Well, I’ll be careful, based on what you just told me, but I’m sure if there’s any trouble, the local sheriff would take care of it.”

  The barber shook his head. “See, that’s the problem. We ain’t got none. The town’s sheriff is missing. Rode out of town ’bout three weeks back and nobody’s seen him since.”

  “Nobody knows what happened?” Lucas asked.

  “Nobody,” the barber affirmed. “Said he’d be back by the end of the day, ’cording to Pop, the liveryman. But he didn’t come back at all. It’s like he just disappeared off the face of the earth.”

  “What about a deputy sheriff?” Donovan pursued.

  “Nope. Ain’t had one of those since the last one we had broke his leg over a year ago. Since then no one’s come forward to ask for the job and nobody’s willing to take it when it’s offered to them, neither,” Edwin explained.

  This information, Donovan knew, could turn out either to be good or bad for him. On the one hand, he had no local authority to turn to for back up, but, on the other, he wouldn’t be butting heads with the local lawmen. It appeared there was no one in Bannack to stand in his way.