After they finished eating, Hatchet Jack removed a foldedup strip of newspaper from his jacket pocket and handed it to Delilah, who read it out loud:
"And here among us was a living example of the Wild West! He was a man of the wilderness untrammeled by civilized constraints, primitive and unschooled in society, but spontaneous and generous in his conversation and behavior. The questions we asked! And the answers that we received as Zebulon Shook regaled us with his astonishing tales of the Colorado mountains and the vast southwestern deserts and the gold fields of California!
"Imagine our surprise when we learned that Zebulon Shook was not only a famous outlaw wanted for murder, bank robbery, and horse theft with a price on his head, but that he was also a revolutionary sought by the Mexican government. After that, every passenger kept his cabin well locked.
"The entire ship was relieved when he was ushered off at a small fishing town several hundred miles from the Spanish port of Cartagena. As he stood looking back at us from a forbidding shore surrounded by dense jungle, there were few among us who believed we had seen the last of -"
Before she could finish, Zebulon reached over and tore the paper into small pieces, then slowly dropped the pieces one by one on the floor.
"Speakin' of breezy winds," Hatchet Jack said. "I ran into your Pa a month ago. He made a big strike on the Eel, then blew it all playin' stud poker."
"Where is he now?" Zebulon asked.
"Last I saw, passed out in the back of a feed store in Silver City. When I told him about you bein' in the newspaper and bein' wanted, dead or alive, he wanted to hunt you down and cut out your liver. `A Shook should never be in no newspaper.' Those were his words. He didn't mind the outlaw part. It was you bein' a lyin' pecker-headed lunatic that rattled his pan. 'Course me bein' the one that told him didn't help. I offered him a horse to square things up, but he turned me down. Said he preferred me to owe him rather than accept an old rim-rocker just to square a debt he didn't want to settle."
Zebulon took the gold and ruby necklace out of his pocket and fastened it around Delilah's neck. "If you wait long enough things come around."
"And then around again," she said.
"Hold on," Hatchet Jack said. "I took that choker off two pilgrims in San Francisco who tried to rob me when I crawled into their shack to get out of the rain. By rights it's mine, considerin' I had to shoot both of 'em to get it.,,
"She gave it to me long before you had it," Zebulon said.
"What ends up, ends up with whoever it ends up with," Hatchet Jack insisted. "That's my say, and that's the way it is."
Delilah handed him the necklace.
Hatchet Jack hesitated, looking from Delilah to Zebulon.
Finally he shrugged and handed the necklace back to her.
"From you to me, and me to you."
"You're mixed in with him?" Zebulon asked.
"He was in the cantina when Ivan killed a man in Calabasas Springs," she said.
"Did he smoke someone over you?" Zebulon asked.
"Over a card game," Hatchet Jack explained. "When I saw her in that cantina in Calabasas Springs, she was playin' sevencard stud with that Rusky Count and a few others, a gold sniffer and a stagecoach driver. The Count was bettin' wild and crazy from all the gold he scooped up that week. I came downstairs after a little rendezvous of my own, and there they were, like when I first laid eyes on them, and then there was that shoot-out in the cantina in Panchito. I could see it all comin' like I'd been there before. I sat down at the table, bein' flush and wantin' to high-roll everything. You know how it is. It all came down to one hand. I had a full house and I swear to Wakan Tanka, the lady you're lookin' at pulled a queen-high straight flush. And then some drunk comes in yellin' that I stole his horse. Truth is, I had taken his horse to give to your Pa. And then all hell breaks loose - everyone duckin' for cover and shots fired from god knows who or where.
"I woke up in a ditch thinkin' I was dead. The Count had run off, havin' shot some poor bastard who called him out on his claim. When I come in, Delilah was sittin' at the bar. One thing led to another. That's why I come down here, to make it straight with the Count before he swings. He's a hard case, that Count. Wouldn't throw me a bone. Said it was my fault, which it weren't. Said I plugged the Aussie, which I didn't. Delilah is another story."
He paused. "Life dances on, don't it, little brother? I'll take you to where they got the Count locked up, and then I'm done with both of you."
"You ain't my brother," Zebulon said.
Hatchet Jack raised his shot glass. "Maybe not by blood. Maybe somethin' thicker than blood. Never mind. Here's to bein' on this side of the grass, brother or no brother, Count or no Count. The three of us yoked up and here we sit."
After they finished off the bottle, they rode off to witness Ivan's fate in Calabasas Springs.
N THE OUTSKIRTS OF THE TOWN THEY WERE CONFRONTED by five drunken Australian prospectors who had arrived that morning from their diggings to witness the hanging of Count Ivan Baranofsky, who had killed one of their own in a card game. When one stationed himself along the flank of Delilah's horse and put his hand on her thigh, she lashed him across the face with her quirt.
Before his companions could react, Zebulon grabbed her horse's reins and all three galloped side by side into the town, where most of the population was still inside the eighteenthcentury Spanish church celebrating the end of Lent. A few women in the square were preparing tables with platters of enchiladas, frijoles, tamales, grizzly steak, venison, and apple, mince, and cherry pies.
Hatchet Jack led the other two through a cluster of red-tiled buildings, then down a narrow alley behind the church to an adobe shed marked by a barred window In front of the shed, a deputy sat on a bench with a shotgun across his lap.
"No one allowed inside," the deputy said. "Only one of you can speak through the window"
Hatchet Jack and Zebulon stood across the alley while Delilah approached the window
Ivan sat leaning against the far wall, one of his ankles manacled to a long chain.
"Ivan," she called, peering through the bars.
He looked up. "I didn't want you to come."
"I had no choice."
He hobbled to the window and reached through the bars, one finger touching hers.
"You should have left me a long time ago."
"I tried."
"That's true. How you tried. I kept hoping.... Did you know they're hanging me tomorrow?"
"The day after tomorrow," said the deputy, who was listening from his bench.
"Can't you hurry it up?" Ivan asked the deputy. "I'm more than ready to depart. Anything to end all the drama."
"I'll ask," the deputy said. "But it's hard to rush a good party."
"Even without the gold we had enough to save ourselves," Ivan said to Delilah. "That's the great irony. We could have gone anywhere - Egypt, Tasmania, Brazil. Anywhere but this country.... But enough supposing and wishing and ailhat if '-. I prefer the hangman to those speculations."
He suddenly noticed Hatchet Jack and Zebulon standing across the alley, smoking cigars as they looked over at them.
"They came with me," she explained. "Or Zebulon did. We met the other one outside of town. Hatchet Jack. He said he had already seen you."
"He certainly did see me. Quite sloppy, he was, expressing his need to be free of blame or guilt. For what? I asked him. I was appalled at his whole approach. It made me feel that he actually might have shot the man they said that I shot. I didn't feel like granting him absolution. Or anything, for that matter. Not that that's in my power. And I certainly have no need to see Zebulon. If you hadn't gotten him thrown off the boat, I would have pushed him. I suppose now you'll go off with him. Hopefully he won't be as deviously sentimental as the other one. What's his name? Hatchet?"
"I'm not going off with anyone."
"Don't be absurd," he said. "You'll never survive alone."
"I've always been alone, and I've always survived."
"If you want to think that, go ahead. If that helps you."
"Forgive me, Ivan," she said. "I'm... I'm trying...."
"Oh dear god," he interrupted. "Spare me a pitiful goodbye. I thought you were better than that. Can't we just chat about the weather or the awful music they play in the town square, or say nothing at all?"
"There's no time, Ivan," she replied. "Please."
"Time? I'm yawning through time. I refuse to be consoled or offer reparation. I loathe that rubbish." He shook his head. "I won't forgive you or myself. There's nothing to forgive, and if there were, I'd lie and say I forgave you"
"Ivan.... Please."
She removed a long oblong root from inside her blouse and slid it to him through the bars.
"Chew on it before they come for you," she whispered.
"What a curious benediction," he replied, lowering his voice so the deputy couldn't hear. "It's easier for me, you know. All I have to do is die. You have to go on. Not that I wouldn't change places with you."
The deputy rapped on the wall with the stock of his shotgun. "Time's up."
"I'll come tomorrow," she said.
He removed a gold pocket watch from his shirt and slipped it to her through the bars. "Speaking of time. A reminder."
"I love you," she said. "I always have, even when I didn't."
"I know, I know," he said, his voice cruelly impatient, as if he was trying to drive her away. "Come tomorrow But no slop"
"All right," she agreed.
He watched her walk down the alley with Hatchet Jack and Zebulon until they disappeared around a corner.
"Gone," he said to the deputy. "Gone before she ever arrived."
S THEY WALKED PAST THE CHURCH, PARISHIONERS WERE streaming down the front steps towards the town square. Most were Mexicans, the women wearing ankle-length embroidered dresses and black shawls covering their hair, along with a few Chilean and Peruvian prospectors in red ponchos and leather chaps.
"I need a drink," Delilah pleaded. "Some whiskey Anything."
She headed for a saloon across the square. When she suddenly sank to her knees, Zebulon and Hatchet Jack lifted her up and carried her to a table.
She sat without speaking, staring numbly at the crowd as if through a pane of smoky glass. The entire population of Calabasas Springs was gathered in the town square, as well as families and hands from the outlying ranches and the Australians and other Argonauts camping outside of town. Musicians played guitars and violins, and children ran in and out of the crowd and around the tables piled with food and drink. The Australians, who had mostly been rejected by the local women, danced with each other or by themselves.
An Australian ex-convict with an X branded on his forehead, stumbled up to the table where Delilah sat. Staring at her, he spread a hand through a mince pie and then slowly licked each finger.
"I have a bet you're for sale," he said.
"She's not a slave and she ain't for sale," Hatchet Jack replied.
The Australian shrugged. "That's not what I been hearing."
He sauntered off towards a bunch of newly arrived Argonauts from Alabama who were pulling down a Mexican flag from the top of a pole. As they stomped and urinated on the flag, they were joined by other miners, all singing:
When Hatchet Jack and Zebulon walked over, several men threatened them with pistols, then pulled Delilah from her chair. They dragged her to an oak tree, where one of them bound her wrists while another threw a rope over one of the branches.
"Hold on!" Hatchet Jack shouted, pushing his way towards them. "This woman is not some mail-order slave you can do what you want with.... She's a princess with noble blood hailing from King Solomon's ranch down there in West Texas. She's the daughter of an English general, a purebred queen of the Amazon. More than that, she's a god-fearing Christian who knows how to cook and roll biscuits and pray to the Lord!"
Hatchet Jack pointed at Zebulon. "Does this man look like he would put his brand on a slave? Hell no! He's an alcalde! A man of the law from San Francisco. Do you particulate what that means? He's here on business, appointed by the Governor General of the State of Californie to fix the corruption of the mines, as well as to get himself hitched in the town's church to this woman whose neck you're about to stretch. If you people mess with an alcalde you're messin' direct with the State of Californie, or my name ain't Lorenzo de Calderon Vazquez de Gama."
The Australian spat on the ground. "And I'm sayin' that you're a horse-thieving half-breed. The only way this black whore will get herself hitched is in the court of hell."
His companion slipped the noose over Delilah's head while another carried over a chair for her to stand on. With a loud "Hurrah," they lifted her up.
Delilah spoke her last words to Zebulon and Hatchet Jack: "Let go whatever comes, good or bad. And when your time is up don't leave a mess behind."
Before the chair could be pulled out, four caballeros in black velvet suits embroidered with silver trim, entered the square from the cathedral, carrying an open Chinese palanquin on their shoulders. An ancient figure sat in the middle of the palanquin in an ornate armchair, his frail body wrapped inside a black cloak. A dozen well-armed vaqueros rode behind him.
Even though Don Luis Arragosa was over a hundred years old and half-paralyzed by a recent stroke, his presence commanded attention. As the last titled owner of one of the few remaining great Spanish ranches in California, he remained a beloved symbol of past glories to the Mexican population of Calabasas Springs.
After the caballeros lowered the palanquin to the ground, Don Luis sat quietly; contemplating Delilah as she balanced herself on the chair. Finally he spoke in a hoarse, barely audible whisper: "It is a sacrilege and sin to be disturbed in prayer, particularly at this sacred time of the year."
When several of the Australians objected, Don Luis raised a hand for silence.
"What crime has this woman committed?"
"She broke the law," replied one of the Australian exconvicts.
"Whose law?"
"Our law," said another Australian. "The only law that counts. She struck one of us with her quirt for no reason. The woman is a slave and a whore. What else does anyone need to know?"
Don Luis turned to Delilah. "What is your response to this charge?"
Delilah straightened her shoulders, pointing at her accuser. "As I was riding into town, this man grabbed the reins of my horse and demanded that I engage in a carnal act with him. He treated me like a prostitute, so I slashed him with my quirt, and I would be pleased to do it again. It was not my intention, nor was it that of my companions, to cause trouble. We have more important matters to deal with."
"And what are those matters?" Don Luis asked.
"To witness the death of my husband, Count Ivan Baranofsky, who, as you must have heard, has been unjustly sentenced to hang."
Don Luis turned to the Australians. "You are sadly mistaken if you think that you can ride into this town like drunken San Francisco vigilantes and commit whatever outrage suits you. It is one thing to rape and pillage the country in a compulsive quest for gold - a quest, I might add, that will soon be exhausted - but it is quite another matter to violate a woman, no matter her color or race or religion. This woman was defending her honor. And you, Sir, obviously have no honor."
Exhausted, Don Luis sank back in his armchair.
The local population, along with the Chileans and Peruvians, surged forward, expressing their approval. For a moment it seemed that fighting would break out, but the caballeros held their ground, pointing their rifles at the Australians while Zebulon and Hatchet Jack removed the noose from Delilah's head and helped her down from the chair.
Don Luis sighed. "There will be only one hanging in Calabasas Springs, and that act will take place the day after tomorrow at six o'clock in the evening. To my mind, the decision is unfortunate: but it is the law, no matter if one agrees or disagrees."
An Anglo miner stepped forward.
"Know one thing, old
man. There's a new bunch comin' to town, not to mention pourin' into this whole side of the country - immigrants, businessmen, scoundrels, all kinds, you can be sure of that. They're rollin' in every day. There's no stoppin"em, and none of 'em give a good goddamn what you think. Them old days when your people held the cards are over. Best thing for you is to stay out of the way"
"I don't disagree," Don Luis said. "This country has certainly been invaded by barbarians who offer us only selfish ambition and greed. But I will make you a promise. If my men ever see you or any of your companions in Calabasas Springs again, even once, they will shoot you like rabid dogs."
Don Luis' chin sagged to his chest. No one was sure if he was still breathing until he raised a claw-like hand, and four caballeros picked up the palanquin and carried it to a waiting carriage.
Before the carriage rode away, a caballero rode back to Delilah. "Don Luis asks that you and your friends join him at his ranch, where he will be pleased to welcome you for the night."
"You two go on," Hatchet Jack said. "After I grab some shut eye, I'm gettin' rid of this town and everything that goes with it.
He looked at Delilah. "Including you and your Count."
fter the carriage drove off, Zebulon and Delilah were escorted to Don Luis' hacienda. None of the remaining Argonauts believed Hatchet Jack's explanation that Zebulon was an alcalde. A few even suspected that he was the outlaw, Zebulon Shook, recently written about in The San Francisco Star. And if that were the case, there was bound to be a reward for his capture as well as for that of his Abyssinian whore.
HEY ENTERED DON LUIS' ESTATE THROUGH AN ORNATE iron gate and passed a guardhouse, tanning vats, a blacksmith shop, several smokehouses, a butchering shed, and five outdoor bake ovens. Further on, a forty-foot clock tower dominated the end of an overgrown garden whose crumbling adobe walls were covered with flowering bougainvillea. On the other side of the garden, a long stately colonnade introduced an imposing twostory Spanish adobe ranch house with a corroded red-tiled roof and thickly latticed windows, most of which were in serious need of repair.
The Drop Edge of Yonder Page 12
