Hunger on the Chisholm Trail

by M Ennenbach

  He passed the post office that also served as the bank and nodded to Robert. Robert was a stern man that barely spoke. He sat in the post office, more a glorified shed, from sunrise to sundown. He didn’t socialize much. A teetotaler. Attended church on Sundays and then returned to either his office or his home behind it. There was not much call for either bank or post office with such a small population but, once the government gave the okay for settlers to rush in, there would be. It was just a matter of time. Duncan was one of the first of the settlements, the Sooner movement as they called themselves, and the others spread across the region. On the rare occasions he got to talking, all Robert could speak of was the day when he would get his first telegraph rig. He was obsessed with the multiline telegraph system and assured everyone it would soon come to Duncan. Robert nodded curtly back to Cody as he walked.

  Smoke rose into the sky in front him as he approached the toll collection hut. It was smaller than any building in town and clearly constructed by Natives. As he approached, Hasse leaned out the opening and smiled at him. He grinned back and hurried his steps. Hasse held the buffalo hide open for him and he ducked in. His eyes burned from the small fire in the center of the room. River sat cross legged on the floor and grunted at Cody.

  “Good morning, gentlemen.”

  “Sawbones. I see you survived your journey last night.”

  “A miraculous one at that! These mushrooms of yours could hide great medicinal properties. I was hoping to get more of them as soon as possible.”

  Hasse gestured to River who nodded. “We can help you with that. How are things in town? A coach came in late with a rider following.”

  Cody nodded and sat down, mimicking the cross-legged position. “Travelers headed to California. And an artist, I believe.”

  Hasse gestured again. River watched and gestured back. They went back and forth for a few minutes before Hasse threw up his arms and stomped out.

  “Why doesn’t he ever speak? I see no scarring.”

  River shrugged.

  “You don’t know? Or you won’t say?”

  River cocked his head at him. “I see no difference. What concern is it of yours?”

  “Curiosity, mostly. I could help him.”

  “None can help him. He has taken a vow.”

  “A vow?”

  “Yes. The last word he uttered was of a great evil loosed upon the world. He has sworn to end it.”

  “What kind of evil?”

  River looked into the fire. “I don’t know. Three years ago, I found him. He was near death. I took him back to the tribes. He has not spoken a word. The medicine man spoke with the spirits. Coyote revealed himself. He has two paths in front of him. One of great good. Or one of great evil. But they are his alone to choose.”

  “You’re some strange folk.”

  River smiled and nodded.

  9

  Duncan, night falling

  Karl stood looking at himself in the small shaving mirror. He didn’t like the face looking back at him. “When did I get so old? A week ago, I was in Paris, drinking wine and celebrating the beheading of the vampire in the catacombs. Now look at yourself. The damnable creature looked better than you do now.”

  He pulled out his grooming kit and trimmed the wiry gray hairs that seemed to stand no matter how he brushed them. He sighed and put it all away. For all of his adventures, time was the one beast he could not slay. And he was tired. Bone tired. Enough so that staying a week in a small town jail was the best vacation he had in years. No monsters. No violence. Just relaxation, whiskey, good conversation and a nice view. He found himself staring across the street at the shop. He needed to go get the whiskey. But had found himself making excuses not to do it. He found himself rooted with nervousness, he had dealt with the occasional pretty lass over the years. He wasn’t afraid of them. But days of secret looks across the street had made him a mess.

  He blamed Mikhail for trying to act like a matchmaker. Damned fool sheriff. What did he gain from it? He was leaving for the West Coast as soon as he was relieved of duty. And he blamed himself for standing there staring like an idiot. He had faced things that would most likely melt the mind of the average man. And now a good-looking dame with sad eyes had him all sorts of sixes and sevens.

  “You’ll get the damned whiskey. If she is so inclined, you will escort her to the sheriff’s. No different than stumbling into the den of those ghouls. Or that one time the cultists accidentally awoke the thing that slumbered beneath Boston. Pull yourself together, you fool.”

  He strode purposefully out the door and walked with his head held high across the street. The door was propped open, so he stepped inside and cleared his throat to announce himself.

  “Mr. Beck. I have been expecting you all day.” Tracey looked at him with a half smile.

  “My pardon for the lateness of my arrival. Lost in thought for the bulk of the day.”

  She nodded. “I found that bottle of whiskey the sheriff asked you to pick up.” She placed it on the counter and he eyed it appreciatively. Then she made a face of despair. “Oh no.”

  He looked startled and unconsciously his hand went to the pistol on his left side as he turned quickly.

  She laughed at him and then pointed. “The damned thing is damaged. Must have happened in the shipping. I cannot, in good conscience, charge you for this bottle. Please accept it with deepest condolences.” Her words were a little thick but there was a gleam in her eyes he appreciated.

  “And will you do me the honor of joining for the night’s festivities? I hate to ask, but I am a stranger in this strange land. It would do my heart good to have a friend in my corner.”

  She stared at him. “I would love to, but . . . ”

  He didn’t allow her to finish the inevitable excuse he saw her mind trying to spin. She clearly needed to get out of this small building. Fresh air and conversation would do her good. “Fantastic. Let me help you lock up and we can be on our way!”

  Her mouth opened and closed a few times. She didn’t quite know what to do or say. “But . . . ”

  “No, ma’am, I insist on helping. Two sets of hands are better than one. Besides, it is getting close to fashionable late. I’d hate to be a poor guest.”

  She just nodded at him, a blush creeping up her cheeks. Before she knew what was happening, she was locking the door to the shop and accepting his arm for the stroll to the sheriff’s house. Her mind swam with the Laudanum and anxiety. She wanted to run back inside and slam the door. To hide in her bed. Instead, she found herself resting her hand on his arm.

  “I am a little nervous, if I am being honest with you. I’ve not spent much time around people from the Orient. I feel less than confident in my knowledge of proper etiquette.”

  Tracey nodded. “Jia-Li is quite polite, Mr. Beck. I don’t think you will have much to concern yourself with. Mikhail isn’t the most gentile man in town, yet they seem to be pretty happy.”

  “That is true. Thank you for setting my mind at ease. Now, how about telling me about yourself? I’ll admit to no small measure of curiosity.”

  “Not much to tell. Grew up in a small town to the East of London, near the sea. My parents passed away and I made my way to Duncan. I miss the ocean. And the rains. Not much else, though.” Her eyes grew far away and her grip on his arm tightened slightly as she went far away.

  “Pardon my forwardness, but how did such a handsome woman as yourself manage to avoid marriage?”

  She laughed lightly, a lovely sound to Karl’s ears. “I didn’t avoid it. It just wasn’t the life for me, I found.” Her smile faltered as she spoke. “He passed. I suddenly found myself with no family, a widow and no desire to remain. I took the first ship I could to the New World.”

  Karl nodded thoughtfully. “My sincerest apologies for dredging up the past. My mouth tends to move faster than my sense.”

  She didn’t answer for a long moment, so they walked on in silence.

  “Well ain’t you two just so
sweet on an evening stroll?” a voice called from the shadows on the side of the road. The shadow stepped forward onto the street, revealing herself.

  “Good evening to you, madam,” Karl answered. He felt Tracey stiffen next to him and patted her arm gently to let her know it was alright. “I’m guessing you came with the stagecoach last night?”

  The woman, dressed in leathers with a checkered shirt cut in a man’s style turned her head and spat into the dust. “Reckon I came in alongside them no good coffee boilers. But I ain’t with them one bit. My da always told me them city folk from back East is crooked as a Virginia fence. And me? I may have been accused a bein’ a chucklehead once or twice, but I ain’t one of them lily livered chickenshits. No, sir.”

  “And what, pray tell, are you exactly, madam?” Tracey asked, surprised at the language this lady so casually spoke. Even the cattlemen spoke with more aplomb when they came to town.

  “Well, hell. I ain’t no madam, that’s fer damn sure. Me? I fancy myself an artist. Due to a slight misunderstanding between me and ole Wild Bill back in Abilene, I find myself a bit of an outlaw as well.”

  “An artist, you say? What is your preferred medium, if I might inquire? And your name, as well?” Karl asked politely.

  “Shit and tarnation. Ain’t you both cultured sumbitches? Mary Jo is the name my da gave me. Only God damned thing he ever did give me at that, ‘sides a kick in the ass when I turned eighteen. I like to paint if’n I’m given the chance. Gonna head out toward California way, maybe up to Oregon. First things first, I’m gonna get the handsome bartender into my bed. Maybe paint his picture, if you catch my drift.”

  Tracey blushed and Karl let out a belly laugh. “Well then, Mary Jo, I wish you good luck. Both on your trip and with the bartender.”

  She spat onto the ground again and smiled. “Same to the two of you love birds. Good evening. Time to catch myself that greased hog.” She tipped her hat and began walking back towards the bar.

  “She seems quite colorful,” Karl whispered.

  “Seems to be trouble.” Tracey turned her head to watch as Mary Jo walked down the street. “Precisely the type of person we do not need in Duncan.”

  Karl laughed. “It takes all sorts to make this world turn. Though I may feel sorry for Bradley in the morning if she gets her way.”

  “This is the sheriff’s house,” Tracey pointed to a nice little house tucked just off of the main street.

  Karl held open the gate on the fence and Tracey curtseyed a bit wobbly as she passed. He pulled it carefully shut as she knocked on the door. Mikhail answered looking dapper in what Karl assumed were his church clothes. “Karl! And Tracey! You look lovely as always. Please come in.” He turned and spoke loudly, “Jia, my love, our guests have arrived.”

  Karl didn’t know what to expect. His few interactions with the Chinese were mostly spent in seedier locations in New York and on occasion in San Francisco. He had once tracked a Fae into an opium den in Chicago in the rundown Chinatown area. He didn’t tend to lump all of a people together based on a small sample, so he kept his mind open for anything.

  But when Jia-Li came from the back room, his breath was taken away. To say she was beautiful was akin to saying the sunrise was pleasant as it rose over the ocean and painted the waves like diamonds. She was petite, especially compared to her husband who stood roughly six foot tall. Where he was weathered from years of riding in the sun, she was flawless like fine porcelain, but with a natural tan complexion.

  He didn’t realize his jaw had dropped until Mikhail laughed and clapped him on the shoulder. “I made the same face when I first saw her. My Jewel of the Orient.”

  Jia-Li laughed and Karl couldn’t help but laugh as well through his blush. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mr. Beck. Mikhail has told me all about you,” she said in perfect English. “And Tracey! I’m so happy you came. I feared it would be an evening of the men telling half truths while I nodded and pretended to believe them.”

  Karl’s jaw dropped open again.

  “Thank you, ma’am. The pleasure is all mine.” Tracey kissed Jia-Li on the cheek as Karl handed the bottle of whiskey to Mikhail. Jia-Li and Tracey went back into the kitchen as Mikhail grabbed a couple glasses off of a shelf and cracked open the whiskey.

  “How in the hell did you manage to trick her into marrying you?”

  Mikhail laughed as he poured. “If I had a nickel for every time someone asked me that, I could retire.”

  Karl took the glass. “We met a stranger on the way over just now.”

  “The outlaw? Mary Jo, the nude painter. I stopped in to make sure she wasn’t going to be causing any trouble earlier.”

  “She is a character.”

  “So you managed to finagle the shopkeeper out. How’d you do that?”

  Karl shrugged. “Just asked nicely. And then didn’t give her a choice in the matter.”

  “Why Mr. Beck, you strong-armed the poor woman.”

  “In a polite way. Yes. She seemed to be in dire need of a night out.”

  “I reckon you are correct in that. Come and relax. I’m sure supper is very nearly finished.”

  As if reading the future, Jia-Li and Tracey stepped out with full trays and began placing them on the table. The room filled with the scent of rosemary and sage. Mikhail began serving out the meal as Karl sat and sipped at his glass. Karl offered the ladies whiskey, but both declined, even if Tracey had an expression of desire for a tall glass. She settled for a red wine, the color of blood, same as Jia-Li. Karl stared appreciatively at the meal.

  “Is this a ratatouille?” he asked, his stomach rumbling.

  Jia-Li smiled. “Yes it is. You have dined on French cuisine before?”

  “Spent a fair amount of time in France over the years. Most recently I was in New Orleans, as well. Not the same, but close enough for my untrained palate. You?”

  She shook her head. “No, though I dream of it one day. I worked in a restaurant in Chicago for a few years before Mikhail lured me in with the promise of San Francisco. What’s wrong, you appear surprised.”

  Mikhail burst out laughing at the expression on Karl’s face. Jia-Li and Tracey looked at him in surprise for a moment before going in themselves.

  “What was it this time? Did he say he found me working in an opium den? Or was it the one where he rescued me from slavers?” she asked.

  “Umm. He said you were with your father building railroads.”

  She reached over and gently stroked Mikhail’s cheek. “Ah. That one. I’m sure he said I didn’t speak English at all. That he saved me and taught me to speak correctly before begging my father to marry me.”

  Tracey drained her glass of wine and enjoyed the discomfort on Karl’s face. “That was the one. I barely kept a straight face.”

  Karl looked at her in feigned offense. “You knew?”

  She nodded and blushed in a pretty way. Mikhail slapped his though as laughter rumbled from him. “It’s a mite better than the truth.”

  Jia-Li laughed even harder. “Yes. The policeman that fell in love with the sous chef. Tell him how you came to the restaurant every day. Or how you begged my father for my hand in marriage, darling.

  “He said no. Four times. Didn’t feel I was good enough for her.”

  “He finally relented out of pity. He saw how tightly you were wrapped around my finger. He often asked me to test your adoration by having you roll over and beg. My stray puppy, so obedient and in love.”

  They looked at each other and Karl felt a pang of jealousy at the unbridled love between them. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Tracey wore the same expression of longing he was sure was on his face. He smiled sadly and took a long drink of the whiskey, savoring the burn as it traveled down his throat. Love was one of many things he had to sacrifice to keep the world safe. Or that was the lie he told himself during the many lonely nights on the road. What did he have to offer anyone, really? Eventually just a corpse when he picked the wrong fight. It wa
s better this way.

  Jia-Li seemed to remember herself and reached over and took Karl’s hand. He jumped a little, startled from his reverie. He saw she held Mikhail’s hand as well and gestured with her head toward Tracey. He understood after a moment. He reached over and took Tracey’s hand and bowed his head as Mikhail said the prayer. He had seen so much over the years, things that made faith fleeting. But he respected faith, knew it could be a powerful thing in the hands of a believer. For good or evil. When she finished, he found himself disappointed when Tracey took her hand back, the residual warmth of it tingling across his own

  They did not hesitate after the prayer to begin to eat. Mikhail watched as the guests tore into the food as if they had not eaten in weeks. “She shot the rabbits herself. Not only is she the best cook in town, but likely the best shot as well.”

  She smiled with pleasure at his words. “Now now, my pup, let them eat in peace. They are quite aware you married far out of your depth with me.”

  Karl snorted and choked a little at that. “He did indeed, ma’am. This may be the finest meal I have ever partaken of. Thank you for sharing it with a stranger.”

  She smiled. “So well mannered. I can see why our Ms. Tracey is taken with you.”

  It was Tracey’s turn to choke. Karl felt heat blossom on his cheeks and knew without looking Tracey was feeling the same. They ate in silence for a long while, neither willing to look up from their plates. Soon, Karl was disappointed to see the bone white of the dish reflecting the lantern light. Jia-Li ladled more and gave him a second thick slice of the fresh baked bread.

  “Mikhail tells me you hunt monsters and save the world. Is it true?”

  Tracey set down her fork and took a sip of wine while watching him from over the rim of her glass. Mikhail ate slowly and watched as well. Karl moved his food around with a chunk of the bread.