“Oh, I was thinking. There’s a widow woman who takes in boarders. She’s got a little place east of here. She’ll put up your horses and take you in. Won’t cost you much. Er, Leo, is it? You keep Bobby there for a week.”
“That’s an idea, Leo,” the Kid said considering the notion. At least he had a fifty-fifty chance if he followed the doctor’s advice. It was a lot better than no chance at all. And the sooner he regained his eyesight, the sooner he could track down those poison peddlers and square up with them.
“Find out where this woman lives,” he ordered.
“Her name’s Mrs. Parker,” the doctor informed them. “You go east for two miles. She’s got a small spread sitting by itself. Can’t miss it.”
Later, when they arrived at Mrs. Parker’s place, the Kid decided that he liked the sound of her voice. The cost was reasonable. For their meals, horse pasture, and bed it was a dollar a day. Her house smelled of fresh bread. The rocker that Leo placed him in felt secure beneath him. He and Leo had decided to use aliases, so they were known to Mrs. Parker as Bobby Jones and Leon Smith. Not very original, but she didn’t question them. Her name was Beth.
They settled in quickly. Leo was free to scout around and find out all he could about the Arnold’s Store incident. While Leo did that, the Kid, with his eyes bandaged, sat in the rocker and contemplated his entire life.
The rocking chair reminded him of the stage guard job he had taken with Halbert Coach lines. They both had the same kind of swaying motion. After Peter Townsend’s death, he had hired on as a shotgun guard. Made the run from Pueblo, Colorado, to Morton’s Station in New Mexico and back. There the line split; one went west to Sante Fe, the other toward the east.
There was nothing on the stage worth robbing. But there were always drifters who from time to time would hold it up for the mail and strongboxes, just in case they held a few dollars.
The stage schedule called for him and the driver, Buck, to make two runs down to Morton’s and back, then they had two days off. His serious impotency problems with women began while he was in Pueblo. That was before he met Maria.
In the Largo Bar on his day off, bored to pieces, he sipped on a foamy beer and watched a skirt swisher who was working hard to find herself a customer. The afternoon business was slow, so she crossed the room and sat at his table uninvited.
“What’s your story, mister?” she asked in a bored tone.
“Story?” In disbelief, he blinked at her words in his alcohol-induced stupor.
“Come on, you guys all got a story. This is free,” she said cynically. “Some guys would rather tell me their life stories than go to bed.”
“What kind of story?” he asked curiously.
She shrugged her bare shoulders, then pulled up her lowcut dress with both hands so her thin bare legs were partially uncovered. “Oh, I don’t know. Like the guy who killed his wife, I guess. It was back East somewhere, so he said. He really felt bad about it, but said she nagged him all the time. He told me that one day he got tired of it and tied her up in a chair, then stuffed her mouth full of stockings. Then he asked her if she would still nag him, and she nodded her head yes. So he left her like that and went to the saloon for a few beers. When he came back home, she was dead. Blue as a goose, he said. It’s crazy to hear all these different kinds of stories.”
He looked across the table at her. Hell, he had one to beat that and spoke flatly. “The first man that I killed had beat up my mother.”
“What?”
“He did,” he confirmed. “It was in Ohio. He was some fancy dresser, and for no reason that I could see he just started beating on her with his cane.”
“Ah, that’s sad. Did you love your mother?”
Bobby shrugged. “I ain’t sure, but I sure hated him. So I went and got one of his own dueling pistols, loaded it and shot him in the back of the head.”
“Did he die?”
“Sure he died.”
The woman was silent for a moment, then rose and smiled down at him. “Well, you want to come back to my room now?”
He was doubtful. She wasn’t that good-looking. Besides, he felt too drunk to be aroused. Finally he rose and followed her wordlessly to her room. It turned out to be a gut-wrenching mistake for him. The whole thing was over before it started, leaving him angry and confused at his failure.
After that episode, his attempts to make love all failed. Because, drunk or sober, no matter how hard he tried it wouldn’t get stiff.
It was after one of those distressing events that the stage was held up by two men. The robbers rode out of a dry wash firing their pistols. It surprised him and the driver, Buck Calley. Calley drew up the teams.
“Hands up or you’re dead!” the robbers shouted.
“Listen to them, Bobby. All we’ve got is mail,” Buck warned and raised his hands high in the air to caution him from trying something against the robbers.
Bobby threw down his shotgun and climbed down from the seat box. It was humiliating to have to obey the two worthless outlaws. The passengers disembarked, their faces white with fear.
“We want all your valuables,” one robber growled. Bobby listened and knew he would never forget that gravelly voice. He fumed silently as the two men took gold watches, wallets, and anything else that looked valuable. He stood there helplessly, gritting his teeth as the robbers pushed the passengers around.
“Guard,” the second robber addressed him. “You got anything?” He shook his head. He took note of the man’s Colt pistol, observing that it had no front sight. And he noticed the man’s eyes were a brilliant blue.
“Should I kill them?” the blue-eyed man asked his friend.
“No, stupid!”
Blue-Eyes chuckled in the Kid’s face. His words had caused the passengers to cower together. Bobby decided the man was crazy, and was just looking for an excuse to shoot someone.
“Get up there, driver, and go like hell,” the gruff-voiced man commanded. “You look back and I’ll shoot your head off. Now everybody load up!”
Buck climbed up and took his place. Seething with rage, the Kid followed him and glanced down to make sure all the passengers were on board. He nodded to Buck, after he made a careful note of the robbers’ horses.
At Morton’s relay station, the Kid begged the agent for a saddle horse.
“What are you going to do against them two?” the short balding man asked.
“Never mind, I’ll get them.”
“Oh, I don’t know, Kid. I ain’t got anyone to go back with you.”
He shook his head. He didn’t need any help. “I’ll get them by myself.”
The man scratched his shiny head. “Yeah, I reckon Mr. Halbert would pay a lot of money if you got them dead or alive.”
“Loan me a horse,” the Kid demanded, filled with impatience to be riding after the two.
“Aw, all right. Take mine, but you only got three days,” the agent warned.
“Fair enough.” He took a double-barreled twelve-gauge and rode back to the holdup site. There, he found his own pistol where the robbers had tossed it, thinking it was broken.
Through the next day he followed their trail until he reached an isolated building that served as a store. He dismounted at the corral, taking note of the robbers’ familiar marked horses in the pen.
He cautiously entered the small building.
“What do you need, mister?” the storekeeper asked.
The Kid glanced around, quickly noting that he and the proprietor were alone. “Two men. One’s blue-eyed, the other’s got a gravelly voice.”
“They ain’t here.”
Filled with rage, he shoved his pistol in the man’s face. “You’re lying and fixing to die.” He watched the man’s resolve melt and his eyes widen.
“They’re in the back room playing with a squaw who works for me.”
“You let out a yelp and I’ll kill you like I aim to do to them, savvy?”
“Sure. I won’t make a sound. I promi
se.” The man’s face looked pale as a bed sheet.
“This ain’t no idle threat. I’m the Coyote Kid.”
“Holy cow! No, mister, I won’t.” He made a whistling sound through his lips and ducked down.
The Kid reached over the counter and found a sawed-off shotgun. He drew it out and holstered his .38. With a click of the breech, he noted both chambers were loaded. Holding it in both hands, he moved to the curtained door in the back of the store.
He heard the familiar gruff voice in the room ask, “Who rode up?”
“How should I know?” the other robber said testily.
“Well, damnit, go see!”
“Aw hell, you get all the pleasure and I’ve got to do all the work,” the blue-eyed man complained. When he turned toward the door, he screamed. The Kid stood facing him, the shotgun in his hands. Both barrels took the blue-eyed man full blast and threw him backward on a pile of supplies. The Kid dropped the shotgun and quickly drew his own weapon.
The gruff-voiced man rose from a cot while the bucknaked squaw whispered something about escaping and dove behind a pile of crates.
“I give up,” the man said flatly. His arms were up in the air, and he stood up naked. “Don’t shoot.” There was no fear, nor repentance, in his voice. Nothing but disgust at being caught. The .38 barked and the lead bullet took out the outlaw’s right eye and smashed through his brain. He fell backward on the cot. Both robbers were dead.
The Kid loaded all the loot he could find putting it in a sack he found on the floor. Then he rode back to the relay station. He had been gone only two days, and Mr. Halbert rewarded him with two hundred dollars.
But his impotency problem with women grew worse. He began to drink more whiskey and less beer. Faintly, he recalled being drunk and sitting on a bed with some doxy. He placed his pistol barrel against her face.
“Tell them that the Coyote Kid is a good lover.” She drew back in fear and tried to escape the muzzle of his .38.
“Don’t move,” he slurred.
“I—I’m not,” she stammered.
“’Cause if you do—”
“What? Oh God, what?”
“If you tell them that I didn’t pleasure you, I’ll put this little barrel in your nose and blow your brains out.”
“Yes. Yes, please put the gun away,” she begged.
“All right, but you stay here and keep guard while I sleep. Stay right here in this bed with me.”
“Oh, I will, Kid,” she promised. “I will.”
The whiskey didn’t solve his problem. Threatening whores didn’t help him, either. He didn’t recover his manhood until he met Maria. And Maria had left him for God. After she ran away, he drowned his misery with more whiskey, because he knew it was useless to try another woman.
Now, without his sight, he was alone in his rocker. Clack, clack, the runners crunched on the floor. He rocked in his dark world, waiting for Leo to return. His hearing grew keener with his blindness. He recognized Leo’s familiar footfalls when he entered the room.
“Kid—I mean Bobby, Mrs. Parker’s gone to milk the cow. I found out a few things.” Leo must have hunkered down in front of him. “That little boy died. Word is they don’t know for sure if it was us.”
The Kid gritted his teeth and clenched his fingers around the rocker arms. “Leo, you listen to me. Stay sober and be ready to leave at any time. Don’t leave me unless you don’t have any other choice. When these weeks of being bandaged is over, if I’m still blind, then … then, Leo, I want you to shoot me.”
“Aw, Kid. You’re talking crazy. I can’t do that,” Leo whined.
The Kid lunged out and caught Leo’s arm. He held it tightly until Leo at last promised to do his bidding.
“Leo, look at it this way.” The Kid tried to inject a little humor into the situation. “It’s like a horse with a broken leg. You got to do things you don’t like sometimes, savvy?”
“Yeah. Shh, Kid, here comes Mrs. Parker.”
“You just remember what I said.”
“I will, Kid.”
Bobby could hear Leo’s boots clumping out the door. He continued his slow rocking until he heard the woman’s soft soles cross the room. He looked up as he felt her presence in front of him.
“Mr. Jones, could Mr. Smith fix some of the fences tomorrow?”
“Sure. And call me Bobby.”
“Very well. I’ll ask him at supper, if you don’t mind. Are you—are you in much pain, Bobby?”
“No, ma’am.”
“Would you like some company?”
“Yes, I would. Company would be nice. It’s lonely in this night I live in.”
“Tomorrow, I’ll spend more time with you,” she promised. After a little while he sensed that she was rising to leave. “Tomorrow I’ll sit with you longer,” she said, repeating her earlier promise. It made him feel good. He tried to see her in his world without light, but couldn’t. Nor could his imagination conjure up a picture to go with her soothing voice.
The next morning, before Leo left to fix the fence for her, he stopped to ask the Kid if he wanted anything.
“I’ll be okay, Leo. You stay gone for a while; I want time to get to know this woman. No,” he interrupted Leo as he started to speak, “don’t tell me if she’s ugly or not. It doesn’t matter.”
Leo whispered in concern. “What if you can’t—”
“I’ll tell her that it’s due to my blindness.”
“But for God’s sake, whatever you do,” Leo said hesitantly, “don’t get angry with her.”
“I’m only foolish like that when I’m drunk.”
“Yes. Here, let me help you to your rocker.”
“No.” The Kid shrugged off his hand. “I want to walk to it by myself.” He felt his way with his hands, then sighed in satisfaction when he lowered himself onto the seat. “See, Leo. I did it by myself.”
Leo laughed softly as he left the room. The front door closed with a thud behind him.
“Bobby,” Mrs. Parker cautioned from the kitchen, “you be careful. You don’t need to fall and injure yourself. Are you hungry?”
“No, ma’am.”
“Oh, you men are always hungry, even when you’re sick,” she retorted lightly, coming into the room. He could smell the food she set before him. Maybe he was hungry after all now that he thought about it.
“Need some help to eat it?”
“No.”
“Those biscuits are buttered, but watch out, they are still hot.”
He promised he would. Saliva rushed into his mouth at the prospect. Her thoughtfulness made his day a little brighter.
Later she came, took the empty tray, and sat near him in a chair. He tried to detect what she smelled like, but the house was full of rich food smells.
“What are you doing?” he asked curiously.
“Shelling dried beans.”
“A blind man can do that.”
“Yes, he can.” She placed a large pan in his lap. He felt for her hands, grasping them gently between his own. They were long and slender. She did not pull away as he ran his thumbs over the backs of them.
“May I touch your face?” he asked. “I can’t see you, of course, but I hear your gentle voice and I wonder what you look like.”
“Wait. I’ll put the pan out of the way.” He heard her move, her dress rustling. He frowned in confusion.
“I’m on my knees, don’t worry.”
He nodded and she took his hands and pressed them to her cheeks. Slowly his fingertips traveled over her face and her nose. She had thin, delicate skin. His fingers sought her ears beneath the silky softness of her hair. Then he explored her eyes and soft, sweeping lashes.
“Bobby, you know that I’m ugly.”
The Kid shook his head. “No, you’re wrong—a blind man knows.”
“I’d like to sell you a horse,” she said with a soft laugh. His hands touched her neck, and he detected a pulse at the base. It beat like a hummingbird’s wing.
&nbs
p; “What happened to your husband?” he asked.
“He was sick and just died.” Her voice suddenly became a little breathless, as though she were excited.
The Kid moved his hands to her shoulders. He felt the soft material of her dress. Then as if on cue, they both rose. No words were necessary. The magnetism between them was mutual.
She led him to the bedroom and undressed him with a gentleness he knew would sweep him away. What was meant to be happened, naturally, and he had no problems. In the darkness of his world, he felt the power of his life return. Again he scented womanhood and curled his lip to let it rush in. Once again he was the master of his own body. She was the vessel and their world was distant from the earth’s dust.
He knew that in the evening, Leo would see the success on his face. Later he bathed, put on a fresh shirt, then made his own way to the rocking chair. The bandages were still over his eyes when Leo came in.
“Bobby, you sure look nice.”
“Thanks, Leo. You sleep alone in the extra room tonight.”
“Yeah, I kinda figured that. Oh—” he spoke to Mrs. Parker—“ma’am, I fixed that fence.”
“Did you hear him, Bobby?” she asked, sounding thrilled because it was repaired.
“Yes. He’s a good man, Beth. I only ride with good men.”
So the Kid began sleeping with Beth. The following week when she had gone to milk the cow, Leo rushed in.
“Kid! Kid!” he shouted, breathing heavily. “They brung in those bootleggers that sold us the poison whiskey. A lawman and a woman had them in irons. They just now rode in; I saw them myself. It was them.”
“What?” he asked. He gripped the rocker until his knuckles popped. Then he tore the bandages from his eyes. The light penetrating his eyeballs burned. He squinted in horror and grabbed for Leo.
“My God. I can see! I can see you, Leo. I mean it.” He pounded Leo on the back as tears of relief streamed down his face. “It’s a miracle. Oh, Maria, it’s a sweet miracle.”
“Damn!” Leo chuckled and patted his back. He turned when Beth entered the room. “Look, he can see.” Leo’s voice trembled and he shook with excitement.
The Kid was shaking, too. He looked at the woman who had given him back his manhood. No, she was not ugly. He stood grinning widely as she put down her milk pail then rushed into his arms.
Servant of the Law Page 16
