Haints Stay

by Colin Winnette

  They planted a sign at either end of the town, one facing the desert and the other facing the path that led in from the woods.

  One night, Brooke and Mary were on the porch, just watching the sky. It was spectacularly plain. The clouds moved along at varying speeds. It was otherwise a constant shade of blue.

  “Could you ever have imagined our lives would one day look like this ?” said Brooke.

  “I am not so sure what you imagine our life looks like,” said Mary. “When I look, I hardly see anything at all.”

  They were quiet then. It was warm out. Mary had boiled the water for Brooke’s bath, and it was cooling in the tub toward the back of the house. Their arms were still, perched on the rests their chairs provided. Flies worked a bit of manure just past the fence. A faint funnel of smoke lifted from the chimney of the cafe. A man came to town.

  Bird did not sleep that night at the fountain. He slowly sobered and realized that he was cold and shivering. He warmed himself with his hand where he could. When the sun rose, he wandered back to the staircase and stood before it. He could not wrap his mind around it, and found it incredibly inspirational. It was beautifully crafted and solitary. It was hopeful and grand. He returned to the mission and found it quiet and still. He wandered the halls and saw no one. He left and walked to the adjacent building, in front of which stood a large man in a vest. It was a bathhouse, open to the public, explained the man. But it was not cheap.

  “I am looking for the boss,” said Bird.

  “Are you looking for trouble ?” said the man.

  “No,” said Bird. “I would like to offer my services as a gunfighter.”

  “You are a cripple,” said the man.

  “No, I am not,” said Bird.

  “You’ll have to leave your gun at the desk,” explained the man. He was smiling. Bird did not like the expression.

  “I have killed one hundred men,” said Bird. “I was in the army.”

  “You are a very brave boy,” said the man.

  “Do you know Ramon ?” said Bird.

  The man smiled. “I know him very well,” he said. “I am his cousin. We work together. Do you… know Ramon ?”

  “We met last night,” said Bird.

  The man laughed then and said the boss would be more than happy to meet a friend of Ramon’s.

  The boss was a tiny man behind an enormous desk.

  “You hope to be a gunfighter ?” he said.

  Bird was seated in a chair on the opposite side of the desk. The chair was appropriately enormous to match the desk before it. It seemed to swallow Bird as the boss’s chair swallowed him.

  “I am a gunfighter,” said Bird. “I hope to find work. I have a wife and need a home.”

  “Our men live in the mission,” said the boss. “Where is your wife ?”

  “I do not know,” said Bird.

  The boss smiled then.

  “I see,” he said. “You are friends with Ramon ?”

  Bird nodded.

  “Ramon is a good man, and he is trouble.” He had tiny eyes, the small boss behind the desk. They were focused, but there was nothing cruel in it.

  A hand set upon Bird’s good shoulder and he turned to meet the gaze of a considerable man in a top hat.

  “Would you like a drink ?” said the man. “You have the look of someone who has been out late with Ramon.” He smiled.

  “Yes,” said Bird. “Something that does not sting, though.”

  “You are eyeing my hat,” said the man.

  Bird looked away.

  “It’s yours.” The man placed the hat atop Bird’s head.

  “It suits you,” said the boss. “Where were we ?”

  “I cannot honestly say,” said Bird, fussing with the hat now. “I am not confident in my standing with you.”

  The boss laughed. “Nor should you be. If you come to work for me, you will only be as good as your last completed job. I do not carry much love for killers and fighters. I abhor violence and its necessity. Otherwise I would not need a mission of killers at my disposal. I am not so bad with a gun myself. Do you have terms ?”

  “I have taken two hundred per man, in the past,” said Bird.

  “Oh,” smiled the boss. “Two hundred it is, then.”

  “And I want to know why you assign the targets you do,” said Bird.

  “You will not always like why. Sometimes, it is best not to know.”

  “I want to know. And I want the option to select who I go after. If you have a mission of killers at your disposal, each job will surely get done, regardless of my being the one you’d like to do it.”

  “You do not make a strong case for yourself as an individual,” said the boss. “But I like a man with reasonable terms. And I like your new hat. And I like Ramon, though he is trouble.”

  “I would like only to pursue evil men, who have done considerable wrong,” said Bird.

  “There is no shortage of them, my friend,” said the boss. He reached into a drawer at his knee and withdrew a stack of papers. “These are posters with deeds detailed. You’ll see no man among them who does not deserve justice. In truth, the list is endless, the pages infinite, but these are the particular ones I have some personal interest in seeing brought to ruin.”

  Bird was quiet for some time. He leafed through the pages. He was soon met with his drink.

  “The hat looks excellent,” said the man who’d set the glass before him.

  Bird drank. He turned page after page. The faces of these men and women were not so different, one to the next. Or their likenesses were poorly reproduced by a limited hand.

  “These two men,” he said, finally. He held up a deedless poster for two brothers, neither of whom wore a hat. “What is their full list of deeds, and what is your personal interest in them ?”

  “Those men are trouble,” said the boss. “They are wanted in nearly every town for some reason or another, but they are not flashy or particularly skilled. Their crimes are many. Too many wrongs to list. A lifetime of wrongdoing. But they are not impressive enough for any kind of serious pursuit. They are not high profile. But, for me, it’s a personal matter. They broke my man’s nose.” He gestured to the considerable man still perched behind them.

  Upon closer inspection, Bird realized that he was, indeed, disfigured.

  “They caused a ruckus in my bath. They brawled and drank and sought to wreck the peace. So I’ll see them answer for their crimes. The news is that they have been apprehended, though. For a town they razed as mere boys. They were separated and brought to undisclosed locations. I have learned the where-abouts of one, though only through rumors in the street. This one,” the boss put a finger to Sugar’s likeness, “was set to bear a child. Left to their own devices, people will live out every possible variation of a human life. They are not at the top of my list, but if you can apprehend one or the other, I will pay you your two hundred. If that is where your interest lies.”

  “That is where my interest lies,” said Bird. He examined the poster. Life was not at all what he expected, yet he was faced now with all he had ever known to hope for. “If they are already apprehended, is the case not cared for ?”

  “My man would like some time with them,” said the boss. “What kind of boss would I be if I did not care for the desires of my men ?”

  “I would like to find them,” said Bird.

  “You seem excited,” said the boss.

  “I am ready, is all,” said Bird.

  They drank on it. He bathed. They clothed and armed him. They provided a holster and an uncracked belt. They provided a horse, which was fed and shod and roped to a post on the edge of town.

  Bird found Ramon at the staircase, smoking.

  “You are quick,” said Ramon.

  “There is work to do,” said Bird.

  “There is always more of that kind of work,” said Ramon. “We did not expect to hold this place as long as we have. We have made a lot of enemies. Do you still like me just a little ?�
�

  “I like you, Ramon,” said Bird.

  “We are friends ?”

  “You are my first real friend,” said Bird.

  “Will you smoke with me ?” said Ramon.

  “Will you show me ?” said Bird.

  Ramon lit a cigar for Bird and told him to hold the smoke in his mouth, but not to take it into his lungs.

  “You’ll feel light-headed,” said Ramon, “and then you will feel a great charge. It is good for riding. The time passes more quickly.”

  “How long is the ride to Wolf Creek ?”

  “A day or two. You will find it pleasant.”

  “I had never killed a man before,” said Bird. “Before we met in the street.”

  “I know,” said Ramon.

  “How ?”

  “You are eager in the way a killer is not. You are anxious too.”

  “Everybody likes you here, Ramon,” said Bird.

  “Really ?”

  “Knowing you got me in the door.”

  “That is nice to hear,” said Ramon.

  “Are you a killer, Ramon ?”

  “Yes,” he said.

  They were seated on the third step of the winding staircase. Ramon’s knee tilted to meet with Bird’s.

  “Where did this come from ?” said Bird. He took the cigar between his teeth and touched the beak of the wooden eagle.

  “Someone carved it,” said Ramon.

  “But the stairs,” said Bird.

  Ramon shrugged. “Someone built them.”

  “But why are they here ?” said Bird.

  “They are nice to look at,” said Ramon. “And no one tore them down.” Ramon rose. “I cannot smoke a whole one of these in one sitting, and neither should you, little bird. Besides, you’ve got the day to ride and a man to catch. You had better get going, so you can hurry back.”

  “We could drink when I get back,” said Bird.

  “We will,” said Ramon.

  Bird rose, and they embraced. Ramon led him to the edge of town, where the new horse was tied and waiting. He watched Bird remove the ropes and set the saddle. He waved to Ramon, who nodded back and turned away. Bird stubbed his cigar then, and lit out for territory.

  Thanks, as always, to Andi — for everything. Thanks to Daniel Levin Becker and Eli Horowitz. Thanks to Charlotte Sheedy, Sam Lipsyte, Saeed Jones, Amelia Gray, Lindsay Hunter, Karolina Waclawiak, and Brian Evenson. Thanks to Dan McKinley and Jen Gann, for your horse sense. Thanks to Julie, Miles, Katie, Adam and the Mudds. Thanks to Eliza Wood-Obenauf and Eric Obenauf, and to everyone at Two Dollar Radio.

  On an overcast Wednesday afternoon, Patrick N. Allen took his own life. He is survived by his father, Patrick, Sr.; his stepmother, Patricia ; his step-sister, Patty ; and his twin brother, Seth.

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