Santa Fe Showdown

by Jory Sherman

Lew hoped he could remember the names of the three men who had attacked Marylynn and her father. And he hoped his story was good enough to get by this belligerent man.

  “Cal Weems, Billy, and Fritz got some good horses, asked me to take these on to Santa Fe, or to sell ’em and give them the cash when they got to the Tecolote.”

  “Don’t sound right to me.”

  “Well, they didn’t buy the new horses, Grimes.”

  Grimes stepped back, then smiled.

  “You mean, they…?”

  “Stole ’em. Yep, that’s what they did. So they had to hightail it, hide out for a few days.”

  “Well, they should have been here by now.”

  “Why don’t you ride on to Santa Fe and meet up with all of us there?”

  “You know Wayne’s countin’ on us all bein’ there. He’s got a pretty big job lined up for us.”

  “I know,” Lew lied. “After he gets through in Denver, he’ll be along.”

  “So you know about the Denver job.”

  “Sure,” Lew said.

  “I’m wonderin’ why I never heard of you, or met you before. You from around here?”

  “Missouri. I know Wayne from back in Bolivar.”

  “Oh, yeah, sure. Well, I reckon I’ll just go on then, long as Fritz and Cal don’t expect me to meet them and Billy here in Las Vegas.”

  “I don’t think they do, Grimes.”

  Grimes still had the paper in his hand. Lew reached over and slipped it from his grasp. He folded it, put it back in his pocket.

  “See you in Santa Fe, then, Mr…. ah, what did you say your name was again?”

  “Ed Jones.”

  “Call you Ed. Be seein’ ya.”

  “Yes. In Santa Fe.”

  Lew breathed a sigh of relief as Grimes walked across the street to a saddled horse. He waved as he rode off, and Lew waited until he was gone before he started toward the stables. But something about the man’s good-bye wave and the slow pace of his horse put Lew on his guard. He had the itchy feeling that Grimes might not be leaving town right away. While he may have allayed the man’s suspicions right off, Grimes might worry that bone some until he gnawed down far enough to become suspicious all over again.

  Lew walked to the stables at a brisk pace. Las Vegas might be a dangerous place to linger for long, and there was a cash buyer waiting for him. If he could close the deal on those two outlaws’ horses, that would be a little more money for Marylynn, to tide her over in Santa Fe until she found gainful employment.

  Hiram Fogarty was inside the stables with Benny Rodriguez, looking over the horses Lew and Marylynn had brought in the night before. Hiram introduced Lew as “Mr. Jones.”

  “Call me Ed,” Lew said to Benny.

  “Good horses,” Rodriguez said. “Did you see Mr. Grimes?”

  “Yes. He headed on to Santa Fe, far as I know. I’ll meet up with him there.”

  “So, you are not a horse thief,” Rodriguez said, blunt as a hammerhead.

  Lew shook his head and smiled.

  “Nope.”

  “That Grimes, he was mighty suspicious.”

  “Well, that’s his face card, I reckon. It doesn’t hurt to have a little suspicion now and then. But I held the high hole card.”

  Rodriguez laughed. Lew thought the laugh might be a little forced. He didn’t trust the man. For one thing, he had a big mouth. For another, he knew Grimes, and more than casually, it seemed.

  “What do I owe you, Benny, for the board and feed? The missus and I are heading out after I take her some breakfast.”

  “Four dollars, Mr. Jones. But I will wait until you and Hiram complete your business.”

  Rodriguez walked away to let the two men talk, but Lew noticed that he busied himself well within earshot. He figured he could trust Benny about as far as he could toss a loop on a two-foot rope.

  “Which ones was you wantin’ to sell, Ed?” Fogarty asked.

  “Those two geldings in the last two stalls. What’s your offer, Hiram?”

  “Fifty each.”

  “A hundred and I throw in saddles, bridles, blankets, and saddlebags.”

  Fogarty lifted his crumpled hat from his head, scratching it with fingers on the same hand.

  “Well, I don’t know.”

  “Take it or leave it. I figure we can get more for them in Santa Fe. And the longer I have to stand here, the higher the price goes.”

  “You got a deal, I reckon.”

  “Cash on the barrelhead.”

  “Why, sure. It’s a little more than I wanted to pay, but I do need those horses. This country is awful hard on horseflesh.”

  “It’s not too easy on human, either, Hiram.”

  Hiram laughed and dug into his pocket. He pulled out a wad of greenbacks and began to count them out in twenties. He counted them again, then handed them to Lew. Lew didn’t count them, but slid the money into his pocket.

  “I’ll show you the saddles, blankets, and bridles,” Lew said. “They’re over there by the tack room. It was locked when we came in last night.”

  The two walked over. Lew sorted out the blankets and bridles, and moved two saddles over. He emptied two saddlebags and handed them to Fogarty.

  “There you go, Hiram. Make sure you take those two horses in the end stalls.”

  “I will.”

  Rodriguez walked over.

  “You want me to saddle them for you, Hiram?”

  “You saddle one, I’ll saddle the other.”

  Lew fished in his pocket, slid out a bill. He showed it to Rodriguez.

  “You have change for a twenty?” he asked.

  Rodriguez shook his head.

  Lew put the bill back in his pocket and reached for his wallet. He opened it, pulled out four one-dollar bills, handed them to the stablemaster.

  “Thanks, Benny,” he said.

  “Thank you, Mr. Jones.”

  The way he said “Jones” made the hairs prickle on the back of Lew’s neck, but he didn’t say anything.

  “I’ll be back in a while to get our horses,” Lew said. “Thank you, Hiram. Good luck.”

  “Good luck to you, Ed.”

  Lew could see that neither man bought “Ed Jones” as his name. But in such country, a man could wear any name he chose, like a hat or a pair of boots. Maybe Jones was a little too common in these parts, he thought.

  Lew found a café that was open and ordered two plates of huevos rancheros, salciche, and frijoles. The Mexican lady wrapped the food in dried corn husks and gave him a couple of paper napkins and a handful of fried tortilla chips to use as spoons. He paid and thanked her, then headed back to the hotel. The aroma from the food made his stomach growl with hunger.

  Marylynn was dressed when she opened the door to his knock. She smelled the food right away.

  “Oh, what did you bring me?”

  “Us,” Lew said. “Dig in.”

  They sat at the table and Marylynn unwrapped the food. It was still warm. Lew noticed that the woman at the café had put a couple of chili peppers in with the beans. He picked up two, offered one to Marylynn.

  She shook her head.

  “I ate one of those in Pueblo,” she said. “I thought I was going to die.”

  “They ward off evil spirits, I hear,” he said, biting the tip off one of the peppers.

  Marylynn laughed.

  Then, she laughed again when she saw Lew’s eyes water and his mouth open to gulp in air.

  “That is a hot little sucker,” he gasped, clawing the table in mock pain.

  “The little ones are the worst, I hear,” she said.

  “Now I know why the Mexicans drink tequila,” he said. “It’s to put out the fire from the chili peppers.”

  They ate and then Lew gave her the two hundred dollars in his pocket.

  “Where’d you get this?” she asked. “Or is this your own money you’re giving me?”

  “Sold two of those horses we brought in. A hundred apiece.”

  Her e
yes widened. “Well, you should get half.”

  “No, Marylynn. You’ll need that money to start a new life for yourself in Santa Fe.”

  A sad look came over her face.

  “You’re just going to run off and leave me after we get there, aren’t you?”

  “No, I’ll be around. For a while.”

  “For a while. I don’t think I could bear to say good-bye to you, Lew. After what we’ve been through.”

  “Let’s not cross that bridge just yet, Marylynn. Take the money. Let’s go get our horses and leave this town.”

  “Did you have trouble this morning? You make it sound like we have to leave.”

  “Ah, it’s not a real good town, Marylynn.”

  “You did have trouble.”

  “No, no trouble. Just, well, I just get a funny feeling now and then, you know?”

  “No, I don’t know. But let’s go. I can see you’re restless.”

  She put the money in her money belt, and he admired her legs when she lifted her dress. She caught him looking and smiled.

  “Maybe there is a way to keep you close at hand, Lew,” she said.

  “I’m only human,” he said, a sheepish look on his face.

  Rodriguez was not in the stables when they returned and saddled their horses. Lew dipped some extra grain and filled one saddlebag for each horse. He crammed the stuff from the outlaws’ bags in both his and Marylynn’s until they were bulging.

  They rode south out of Las Vegas, the sun casting their shadows to the west. The road was littered with wagon, horse, and cattle tracks, and he hoped one of the tracks belonged to Grimes.

  As they rode, he looked over his shoulder more than once, and he scanned the land ahead for any movement—anything out of the ordinary. He had a hunch they might run into Grimes again, maybe in Santa Fe, maybe sooner.

  And they still had a long way to go. And no guarantee of safety when they arrived.

  Marylynn looked more beautiful than she had the day before, and he wondered if she was getting under his skin, like a mite working its way clear to his heart.

  10

  MARYLYNN HAD BEEN SILENT EVER SINCE SHE AND LEW HAD left Las Vegas, but Lew knew something was eating at her. She was fidgety, nervous. She kept slapping the tips of her reins across her left and right legs. First one, then the other. He was too busy scouting the terrain ahead and watching their backtrail to ask her what was on her mind. He knew that sooner or later she would tell him. Then he could deal with it, perhaps.

  They had crossed the Pecos and headed west toward Santa Fe before she said more than two words to him. She had said nothing much at night camp, nor when they had had their coffee and nibbled on sweet rolls he had bought in Las Vegas, rolls that were turning hard in the heat and were like biting into iron by the second day.

  “Lew, do you think much about that night?” she said. The morning sun was at their backs, and there was a glorious glow to the land ahead. Quail piped from atop the blooming yucca, and Joshua trees dotted the flat rocky ground. Doves whistled past them, twisting in the air like gray darts, winging their way to water.

  “What night is that?”

  “You know. That night. When I lost my virginity.”

  “Yes,” he said. “I’ve thought about it some.”

  “What do you think of me?”

  “Marylynn, I think you’re a fine woman. A beautiful woman. I’m sorry you lost your virginity, if it bothers you, but it’s not like a badge of honor you wear on your chest. It’s just part of life, I reckon.”

  “I just wonder why I did such a thing. I wasn’t brought up that way.”

  “You enjoyed it, didn’t you?”

  “Yes, very much. But I still don’t know why I let myself be so…so loose.”

  He reined up Ruben and she stopped beside him. He could see that this had been worrying her ever since it had happened, and he had his own ideas about why she had given herself to him so freely.

  “What?” she said. “Why are we stopping? Did I say something wrong?”

  There was a flare of alarm in her wide eyes, and the expression on her face was one of genuine bewilderment.

  “No, nothing’s wrong. But you asked a good question. And I have an idea that I might be able to give you an answer. If it’s that important to you.”

  “I guess it is, Lew.”

  “Okay. Do you know the story of Lot’s wife, in the Bible?”

  “Yes.”

  “What happened to her?”

  “Yes. She looked back at Sodom and Gomorrah and was changed into a pillar of salt.”

  “What about afterward, when Lot and his daughters fled to the hills?”

  “I don’t remember what happened after that, I guess.”

  “Let’s ride, and I’ll tell you about it.”

  They clucked to their horses and headed toward Santa Fe. Lew kept talking.

  “The daughters thought that everyone in the world was dead,” he said. “So they conspired with each other to continue the human race.”

  “How?” Marylynn asked.

  “They would bed with their father and have his babies.”

  Marylynn gasped. “Why, that’s terrible,” she said. “What an awful thing to do. Or even to think it.”

  “Remember, they thought they were the last humans on earth. They didn’t want their race to die out.”

  “They surely didn’t…not with their own father.”

  “Oh, yes, they did. They gave their father wine, and when he was drunk enough, they made love with him. They both took his seed inside of them and got pregnant.” Lew paused. “In a way, that was what you were doing the other night.”

  “What? Not me.”

  Lew chuckled. “I know it’s going to sound strange, Marylynn. But think about it—what happened that day. Your father was killed. You were left all alone, an orphan. For you, everyone in the world was dead. There was only me. So you turned to me so that you could carry on, like Lot’s daughters, and repopulate your world.”

  “I never thought such a thing.”

  “No, you didn’t think that way, but it was a natural human reaction. Your father was gone. There was no one else around but me, so you turned to me for comfort, for love. That’s all that it was, and you should not feel bad about it.”

  “Is that what you think, Lew? That I gave myself to you because I was lonely?”

  “If you weren’t lonely, then you sure have a cold heart, Marylynn.”

  “I’m going to think about this. It’s such a shock to hear. I mean, I do have sensibilities.”

  “Sure you do. That’s why you did what you did. It wasn’t bad. It was good. For both of us.”

  She looked at him, as if seeing him for the first time. “I wasn’t wrong about you, Lew,” she said after a few moments of reflection.

  “No?”

  “No. You are very wise for your years.”

  She said no more for a long while as they rode on through midday and the afternoon, passing wagons and carts, meeting others, waving politely and voicing perfunctory greetings. But they were strangers once again, each bearing their own thoughts, worrying them through their minds as a dog will gnaw on old bones.

  Long shadows painted the road behind them and their horses. A dust devil danced a thousand yards away, swirling across the barren land like a dervish, hurling sand and dust in all directions. A jackrabbit bounced from hiding to escape and bounded into a clump of prickly pear, then froze until he turned nearly invisible.

  “Lew,” Marylynn said, “I’ve been thinking a lot about that night and the days and nights since then. Some of what you said kind of makes sense, in a way.”

  “I’m listening,” he said, his gaze fixed on the dust devil, wondering if it would cross their path or come straight at them.

  “You gave me something I longed for, something I wanted, but didn’t know I wanted, or needed. Or maybe it was my father’s death that gave me the gift. I—I don’t know. I—I’m not real sure.”


  “Go on,” he said.

  She sighed and brushed away a strand of hair that dangled over her face. The sun made her hair shine as though it were spun from some gilded loom that left a russet sheen on every strand.

  “You made me feel free,” she said.

  “Free? How do you mean?”

  She sighed again, and her eyes shone with a fervent light as if she had tasted some exotic wine.

  “I shouldn’t say this, I know, but my father made me feel like a prisoner, ever since my mother died. I felt trapped, strapped down, sometimes strangled or suffocated by his love, his devotion. When I became a woman, Daddy kept an even more watchful eye on me. And every night, almost, he filled my head with dire warnings. Oh, I know he meant well, and all, but I was suffocating. I was a prisoner.”

  “So, when he died…”

  “When he died, tragic as it is, I felt a kind of relief. Not right then, of course, but after…after you and I…”

  “I think I know what you mean, Marylynn.”

  “Do you? When I say the words, they sound so heartless and cold. I loved my father. I love him still. And I miss him. But…”

  “But you feel free,” Lew said.

  “Yes,” she said, the sibilant hissing with the force of her passion. “It is a sweet taste,” she said fervently. “It tastes like honey and grape wine, this freedom you gave me, Lew. For the first time in my life, I am breathing free air. I could just shout with joy.”

  “Well, there’s not a soul around. If you feel like yelling, Marylynn, you go right ahead.”

  She laughed, and Lew laughed with her. He had seen such inner happiness before, when the preacher in Osage had taken young girls to the creek and baptized them. Some had screeched, some had screamed, some had shouted out loud when they emerged, dripping wet, from the creek. He had once thought they screamed so because the water was so cold, but as he grew to maturity, he knew that they had been afflicted with a religious zeal that defied explanation. Marylynn’s face now shone with that same expression he had seen on the faces of the young that the Baptist preacher had dunked in the creek back home.

  The sun bronzed the clouds, and Lew turned off the trail, heading for the low hills to the north.

  “Where are we going?” Marylynn asked.

  “Make camp before it gets dark. I’m tired and I’m hungry.”