Noose Jumpers: A Mythological Western

by Trevor H. Cooley

  The argument stopped when they saw him coming, but before Luke could say anything, Sandy launched into the day’s big news. “Did you hear? Bobby Estrella’s back in town!”

  Sandy was always the first to hear of the town’s gossip courtesy of his mother’s sensitive ears. The reason this particular news was so exciting was because Bobby Estrella hadn’t been in Luna Gorda for nearly a year. The town’s adopted son had been seen dismounting a brilliant white horse and entering the saloon wearing fine new clothing. Now Bobby’s first wanted poster wouldn’t be up for a few months yet, so no one knew how he had come by the money for his new accoutrements, but everyone in town was abuzz with speculation. Some were happy for his success. Others thought that he had grown too big for his britches.

  Luke couldn’t help but be interested in the news. After all, Bobby had stayed at his house a couple times when Luke was younger. He didn’t remember a lot of it, but Estrella had always been nice to him. Nevertheless, he found himself tapping his foot impatiently waiting for Sandy to finish.

  He didn’t get the chance to speak before Tom interrupted, “I knew all about it before him ’cause Bobby came to my house last night.”

  “Oh really? Estrella came to see you?” Sandy replied with a snort. Tom was a bit of a blabbermouth by nature and, being the youngest of the three friends, often compensated by embellishing his tales. “Yeah right, Tom. Nice story.”

  “Not to see me, dummy.” Tom corrected with a scowl. “My mom.”

  This was much more believable. During his childhood years and into his teens, Bobby Estrella had lived a transient life; passed around from family-to-family in Luna Gorda. Bobby had stayed many nights at the Dunn household over the years and it was well established that Tom’s mom had been one of his favorite surrogate mothers.

  “Then what did he say?” Sandy asked.

  Tom rubbed the back of his neck. “I didn’t hear much ’cause I was supposed to be sleeping. But he gave my mom a stack of money.”

  “You’re joshing me,” Sandy said in awe.

  “Nope. More than fifty dollars!” Tom boasted.

  The two boys blinked at him and Luke had to ask, “Why?”

  Tom shrugged. “Mom said he said it was ’cause he wanted to pay her back. You know, for taking care of him when he was a kid.”

  “My mom took care of him, too,” Sandy countered.

  “Yeah, but mine’s a better cook,” Tom declared.

  Sandy didn’t have an adequate response for that bit of truth and Luke took the opportunity of the break in the conversation to blurt out, “The Devil came to my house last night.”

  The two boys were stunned to silence for a moment. Then they laughed. “What?” they asked together.

  “No I mean it. He reached for me and I slapped his hand,” Luke said matter-of-factly. Then his eyes widened as he thought about it, “I slapped the hand of the Devil!”

  “Must’ve been a dream,” Sandy suggested.

  “No!” Luke insisted. “It’s happened two nights in a row! I started out dreaming, but then I woke up and he was standing by my bed. His eyes were glowing and he smoked a cigar!”

  “Yeah, you probably just dreamed you woke up,” Tom said, then frowned. “But the same dream two nights in a row . . . you know what my momma says when I have dreams that happen more than once?”

  “What?” asked Luke.

  “Shut up and go back to sleep, stupid boy!” he replied, causing Sandy to bark out in laughter.

  Luke fixed them both with a glower. “I know when I’m asleep and when I’m awake. It was real!”

  Sandy’s smile faded. Though just ten, he took his position as the oldest in the group seriously. He gave his friend a nod. “Okay, Luke. I believe you. You saw something.”

  “Yeah, but it weren’t the Devil,” Tom said. Luke bared his teeth in response and Sandy shook his head disapprovingly. Tom snickered “What? You’re nine. Why would the Devil bother visiting you?”

  “I don’t know, but he did!” Luke snapped. He turned away from them and strode angrily to the other side of the tree where he sat in one of the other rope swings.

  Sandy swung a kick into Tom’s backside and hurried up next to Luke. “I believe you saw what you saw, but let’s think it out. You said you slapped his hand? Did you feel it?”

  “Yeah,” Luke said. “Solid as any hand.”

  “Was it scaly?” Tom interjected, yanking his foot out of the loop of rope and trotting up to them. “Pastor says the Devil is red and scaled.”

  “I don’t think so,” Luke said, trying to remember exactly how it felt. “It happened fast, but I think it was regular skin.”

  “Probably a demon, then,” Sandy suggested. “Don’t think you can touch the Devil.”

  “Yeah, maybe,” Luke replied. That made some sense to him. He didn’t remember his mother ever saying that the Devil smoked cigars.

  “Did you tell your momma?”

  “She didn’t believe me,” Luke said.

  “What’re you gonna do if it comes back again tonight?” Tom asked.

  Luke blanched. “I don’t know.”

  By the time evening came, he still didn’t have an answer to that question. If he cried out to his parents and they saw it by his bed, they would have no choice but believe him. But what if it hurt them. Or, an even more frightening possibility occurred to Luke, they might not see it at all. What if he was the only one that could see it? His mother might think him crazy or, worse, call the pastor over. Luke was not fond of the pastor. The man had shifty eyes and a fake smile and he didn’t like the way the man looked at his mother.

  Night still fell relatively early this time of the spring. As Luke watched the suns glow fade through his family’s small window, his unease deepened. For the first time in his life, he saw the approaching night as something to fear. It was as if each deepening shadow heralded the approach of the mysterious devil.

  To his added irritation, Luke’s mother and stepfather went about their business as if nothing were wrong. Jeremy lit the oil lamp and sat down to read the latest edition of their local paper, The Luna Gorda Holler, aloud to Rebecca while she set a pot of water to boil for their supper. She was adding beans to the pot when there was a loud knock at the door.

  Luke, startled by the sound, stared at the door as if it were the gate to Hell itself. Though he knew it made no sense, his imagination told him that the Devil could already be paying his visit. Jeremy got up and headed for the door and Luke bit back the urge to beg him not to answer it.

  Jeremy swung the door open and, to Luke’s relief, the person standing there did not have glowing eyes or horns and a pitchfork. It was Alberto Tucker. Luke could make out Sandy standing just behind his father in the dim light.

  “Alberto! What brings you here?” said Luke’s stepfather jovially.

  The town’s butcher held out a thick package wrapped in brown paper. “Had some pork steaks left over at the end of the day and I didn’t want them to spoil. Thought you folks might want them.”

  “Well, thank you so much. Rebecca was just starting on supper,” Jeremy said with a pleased smile. He turned to look at Rebecca. “Did you hear that dear?”

  “Pork would go nicely with the beans,” she replied, putting on a polite smile. She wiped her hands on her apron and took the package from him. “Why don’t you come on in, Alberto? Would you like to join our repast?”

  Alberto removed his hat and stepped inside. “Thank you kindly, but Elizabeth-Ann’s got a roast on that I must get back to. I do, however, have another reason for stopping by. Jeremy, I’ve got a business proposition for you. I’ve been thinking about expanding the slaughterhouse out back behind my shop. I was thinking you might be the man for the job.”

  “Why sure. Certainly!” Jeremy beamed. “I’ll be finishing up with Mister Sampson’s coops in a few days. How big do you want this addition to be?”

  While the adults continued talking, Luke noticed Sandy hesitating at the door, beckoning him
outside. “Luke, c’mere. I got something I want to show you.”

  Having forgotten all about his fear, Luke followed him out under the darkening sky. “What is it?”

  Sandy led him towards the one-horse cart he and his father had ridden up on. “Well, I was telling my mom about what you told me and she said we needed to come out here.”

  “You told your mother!” Luke hissed.

  “She knows about this stuff,” Sandy replied. Luke looked up at the cart and saw that Elizabeth-Ann Tucker was climbing down from the bench above.

  “Come here. Luke,” she said, reaching a hand out to him. “Sandy told me what you have gone through the past two nights.”

  She gripped his arm and Luke felt a warmth come over him. He had a bit of a crush on Sandy’s mom. He and Tom both did. They couldn’t help themselves. She was the prettiest woman in town, after all, and it didn’t hurt that she doted on them, practically treating them like they were her own children.

  He didn’t know how to reply. All that came out was a lame, “Uh . . . it ain’t much.”

  His mother would have corrected his pronunciation, but Elizabeth-Ann just smiled. “Nonsense, sweetie. If it weren’t much, Sandy wouldn’t have bothered to tell me about it. Now my mother told me about many things she saw in her days and I’ve seen my own share of mysteries. You go ahead and tell me exactly what you saw. Don’t leave out any details, now.”

  Hesitantly, Luke explained what he had seen both nights. His voice trembled as he spoke and he was embarrassed when he started, but it felt good to get it off of his chest. He went into more detail than he had told anyone before, even describing the smell of the cigar and the way the visitor’s presence had seemed to thicken the air in the room.

  When he had finished, she gave him an understanding nod and declared, “The good news is, I don’t think it was the Devil.”

  “How do you know?” he asked.

  “You ever hear of the Devil smoking a cigar?” she asked. “Or a demon for that matter? After all, don’t you think they’ve got all the smoke they’d ever want in Hell?”

  For a moment, he was sure she was teasing him. “But it wasn’t a dream,” Luke said and there was a pleading tone in his voice. “It was real, I swear!”

  “Of course it was, you dear boy,” she said and pulled him in close with a motherly hug, tucking his head under her chin. “I don’t doubt you at all.”

  His own mother never hugged him like this. Luke’s senses were overwhelmed by her softness and the smell of her floral perfume. A lump rose in his throat and he swallowed it down, holding back tears. It was over all too quickly.

  Elizabeth-Ann kissed the top of his head and pushed him back at arm’s length. “What I think you saw, Luke, was a spirit.”

  “You mean like a ghost?” Sandy asked.

  “Yes,” she said. “Now most of the time a ghost can’t hurt anybody. But my mother believed that sometimes, if one’s very strong, they can touch people. And once that happens, they’re quite hard to get rid of.”

  Luke nodded slowly. “Then what do I do?”

  Elizabeth-Ann let go of him and reached into the pockets of her dress. “Actually, I expected that this was the case from what Sandy had told me so I came prepared.”

  She pulled out a small pouch hung on a length of corded leather. A yellow cross had been painted on the outside of the pouch. “This is a medicine bag. It’s a powerful protection against nasty spirits. That thing should be able to come nowhere near you when you’re wearing it.”

  “Really?” Luke said, reaching out to it. She placed the small pouch in his hand. It was quite light. “This will keep that ghost away? What’s in it?”

  “One of Alberto’s rosary beads, and some little bones I soaked in holy water,” she said off-hand. “You can add something else of importance to you if you want, but my mother taught me that what’s inside isn’t as important as what it means to you. This is your medicine. As strong as it is on its own, it’ll become all the more powerful if you believe in it.”

  “Thank you, Miss Elizabeth-Ann!” he said and pulled it over his head. He felt better already. “I won’t take it off!”

  “Very good, but you can take it off when you bathe if you want.” She tucked the pouch under his shirt so that it laid against his chest. “One other thing. My mother believed in many of the old traditions, both Indian and Baptist, but since this isn’t exactly strict Christian medicine, you might want to keep it hidden from Rebecca if you can. I painted that cross on the outside just in case that would make her feel better about it.”

  “Yes, Ma’am,” he said, gripping the pouch through his shirt. He was grateful that she had thought of it. He could very well imagine his mother thinking it was some form of pagan magic and throwing it into the fire.

  When his parents had gone to bed and he was about to turn over the coals to put out the fire, Luke noticed a long black hair clinging to the front of his shirt. He lifted it in front of him. It was Sandy’s mother’s. Blushing, he kissed it and tucked it into the medicine bag. He went to bed and fell asleep quickly, comforted by the weight of the pouch against his chest.

  The powerful medicine in that bag seemed to work. He wasn’t visited by the spirit that night or for many months after that. As often happens with the memories of children, the importance of those two nights faded in his mind over time.

  Two years later, when the Stranger spoke to him at the gallows where Bobby Estrella’s body hung he didn’t recognize him as his ghostly visitor. The eyepatch that covered one eye was part of the reason, but most of it was that he didn’t feel the same sense of fear in the Stranger’s presence that he had before.

  Luke didn’t see him again until several years later; after the three boys had started the Red Star Gang and Luke was just beginning to grow his talent. The Stranger’s first visits were quiet; appearing just at the edges of Luke’s vision. Then he began approaching him, offering bits of advice.

  Luke rebuffed him at first, gripping his medicine bag like a holy talisman, and each time, the Stranger left. But Luke didn’t fear him and he didn’t tell his friends about the Stranger’s visits. Time went by and he began to look forward to them, occasionally indulging the Stranger’s ideas.

  At the same time this was going on, he was growing restless. The seeds that the Stranger fed in his mind had sprouted. The Red Star Gang wasn’t building fame fast enough. His goal of following in Bobby’s footsteps had quickly turned into a dream of surpassing him.

  It all came to a head the night before the big score that would nearly tear the gang apart. Luke had gone off on his own with a bottle of mescal. He was eager for the next day’s action, but annoyed with Tom’s skeleton of a plan and fed up with Sandy’s constant pleas for caution.

  The Stranger sensed that the time was right. He approached Luke again, this time with contract in hand. He explained the terms and Luke didn’t hesitate.

  He was ready to make a deal with the Devil.

  16: Sometimes Things Just Aren’t Right

  An excerpt from the Tale of Luke Bassett

  “It’s gotta shine. It’s gotta be so bright it blinds my enemies just before I shoot ’em. Also, this thing takes forever to reload. Fix that.” – Bobby Estrella, speaking to J.J. Augenstein, owner of Double J Gunsmiths, Albuquerque, NM.

  Luke and Tom stood over their shares of Jeb Wickee’s loot and watched as Sandy trotted out of their hideout. The two of them exchanged frustrated looks.

  “Sandy Tucker: Joy Killer,” Tom said and kicked the dirt in frustration. He looked down at his stacks of cash and bags of gold. “Blast him! Why does he always got to go and ruin all the fun?”

  Luke snorted. That was Sandy alright. Always the one to pull back on the reins. As if being a little bit older meant he had to treat them like his little brothers.

  Still, Luke had to admit to himself that he was sad that Sandy had left. The Red Stars were better riding together than apart. It had always been true. No matter how much Sandy and
Tom got on his nerves and no matter how often the Stranger insisted otherwise, Luke knew it. Even if Sandy constantly gave him the stink eye, the past few days with the gang back together was the best he’d felt in months.

  “Hope he doesn’t go after the Sheriff alone,” Luke said with a frown.

  “Naw,” said Tom unconvincingly. “That’s the kind of thing you’d do. Sandy’s the responsible one.” He cocked his head. “You ain’t planning to do that are you?”

  “No,” said Luke and he was being honest. Not after what the Stranger had told him.

  He felt a twinge of guilt at that thought. Sandy was out there alone somewhere looking for answers that were likely far too dangerous for him to handle. If only he’d been able to tell Sandy what he knew. But that was the problem with having a backer. So many secrets to keep.

  While Sandy and Tom had spent the last two days together on horseback, unable to speak with their specters, Luke had learned a lot from his. He’d assumed that Jeb had a backer helping him out, but the Stranger had known right away that the sheriff’s powers were different.

  The way he explained it, the ability Jeb had to make bullets bend out of the way was a talent unique to Jeb, in the same way that Luke’s own talent was unique to him. Only Jeb’s was boosted by the belief of hundreds of his lackeys. The sheriff’s other power was a different story. The Stranger had his own theory on that . . .

  Luke’s train of thought was derailed as his gun belt fell unexpectedly from his hips, hitting the dusty ground with a thud. He bent down and picked it up, wondering how that had happened. “The hell?”

  “What happened?” Tom asked.

  “It’s my new dag-gum gun belt,” Luke replied, looking at the offending item with irritation. “The pin in the center of the buckle sheared clean off.”

  “Huh,” said Tom, shooting a brief glare at the Kid who, unbeknownst to Luke, was sitting nearby grinning mischievously at his little prank. “Your old gear’s still here somewhere, ain’t it?”