by J. Lee Butts
Couldn't believe my ears. Ella liked fishing. What more could a man want? Hell, she was beautiful, rode like a wild Indian, brought out the most romantic kinds of feelings in me, and best of all, we enjoyed each other's company.
I spent that morning lying on the edge of the pond, under the shade of a crab apple tree, watching my cork bob around and sneaking glances at Ella. Horses grazed in the tall grass. Glorious sun peeked between thin clouds. God Almighty, pretty sure I felt better than I had at any other time of my life.
As the months passed, gossips from church spread the news around town that we were an item. Suppose most such talk got going because we started sitting together during church services. Even a half-blind schoolteacher could have spotted our infatuation with one another.
Six or eight weeks after we met, Ella helped me buy some ponies from a local dealer who often did business with her father. Girl knew more about horses than most men. I needed the animals to keep up the impression of a greenhorn rancher intent on going into the horse-raising business. 'Course, I only purchased enough to maintain the image. No one seemed to notice, or care, that my herd never amounted to anything like what a man needed to keep himself going in a real honest-to-God ranching concern.
My life appeared to have come around to something like boring normality. And, I have to admit, everything was going so good, I couldn't wait to get up in the morning and see what the day brought—especially if it had anything to do with beautiful Ella. She surprised and amazed me in some fashion almost every day.
Got to the point where everything was so satisfying, I only felt it necessary to carry one pistol. Such a realization was something of a milestone for me. For the first time since the life-changing folly of La Honda, I felt at peace with myself and the direction my tumultuous existence appeared to be headed. Days, and even weeks, went by where I enjoyed myself on a level I'd never experienced before, and somehow felt I had no right to expect.
And then, from the dusty trails leading north to Kansas, an arrogant son of a bitch named Bruno Kleitz showed up. May as well have been Satan himself. Now that I think on it, there's a real possibility he was the devil. Anyway, didn't take long after his appearance before everything in my almost picture-perfect new world went straight to hell on a bobsled.
17
"We don't want any trouble."
I'd never so much as heard the name Bruno Kleitz mentioned by anyone of my acquaintance in Uvalde, until the big joker burst through the door of El Perro Blanco late one scorching afternoon. Justin Farnsworth and I were engaged in a friendly attempt to enjoy a pleasant, and uneventful, drink at the time.
Happened to glance over my landlord's shoulder and see a great hulking beast of a feller fling the batwing doors open and stomp to the middle of the room. Could tell from the vein pooched out and throbbing against his temple that, whoever he was, the sweet light of good fellowship and happiness had not existed in his life for some time.
Creature pointed a finger the size of the handle on a ball-peen hammer at me, shook all over like he might collapse from anger, and yelped, "Done heard 'bout you, Moon. Close friends done tole me everything. You're a woman-stealin' son of a bitch."
Leaned toward Farnsworth and said, "Who the hell is this amazingly tall stack of cow shit?"
Big man didn't hear me, and kept up with his tirade. "Good God, but a man can't even leave town on a tiny-assed cattle drive 'thout some bastard like you showin' up and causin' trouble, Moon. Done got it in my mind as how, before this situation resolves itself completely out, I'll probably have to kill you deader'n a busted hoe handle."
Justin didn't bother to answer me, but twirled around in his chair. "What the hell are you doin', Bruno? Have you completely lost what little mind you ever had? Get the hell outta here and go on about your business."
Sounded like a Mississippi cotton farmer when Bruno shot back, "Don't mean any offense, but you can shut the hell up, Mr. Farnsworth. This ugly gob of spit ain't gonna come to my hometown, set hisself up as some kind of respected rancher, and get away with stealin' the one and only love of my life."
Farnsworth chuckled under his breath. "Ella's a lot of things, Bruno. She ain't the love of anybody's life—and most especially yours."
"The hell you say. Bet I breathed in most of the topsoil between Uvalde and Dodge on' at 'ere cattle drive to Kansas so's I could git back home with some money in my pocket and marry my beloved. Done tole her what was what before I left. Done tole her we'd git married when I got back. Settle down. Maybe have a house full of kids."
Farnsworth stood and held up a peacemaking hand. "Don't know what you've been drinkin', Bruno, but that's the biggest load of total bull feathers I've heard in years. Far as I'm able to determine, my daughter ain't no one's beloved, and she ain't about to marry anybody. Why don't you go on back to your father's place and cool off, or sober up—whichever works best. We don't want any trouble."
Justin's entreaty had absolutely no effect on the blond-haired giant. Bruno shook his finger with considerably more force, and yelled even louder when he said, "Damned if'n I will. Wasn't gone but six or eight months at the most, for Christ's sake. Thought that whole time my Ella wuz a-waitin' fer me. Come home and find out this hymn-singing, dandified weasel done went and stole my gal."
A blind man could tell Farnsworth was on the verge of busting a major blood vessel in his own head. He almost shouted, "Ella never consented to your proposals of marriage, Bruno, and you know it. Far as I'm aware, she could barely stand the sight of you. And you know why. Hell's bells, boy, damn near everyone in town knows what you did to her."
My landlord had finally got the fearsome Bruno's attention with that one. The brute snapped, "That's a damnable lie. When I left for Dodge, we had planned to tie the knot when I got back. Ella loved me, and I loved her. This here sweet-talkin' bastard showed his ugly face, turned her head, and filled her soul with deceitful lies. He's done went and flipped my whole life over on its back like a stranded armadiller. Bewitched my beautiful Ella. Remade her into a heartless, hateful witch. Ain't gonna have it. Gonna kill 'im, and worry about the consequences later."
I'd heard enough. Hell, more than enough. Slowly got to my feet, eased Farnsworth to one side, and pulled my jacket away from the pistol resting across my belly. "We've never met, but you don't appear to be anything like an accomplished gunman to me, Mr. Kleitz."
"I can hold my own with egg-sucking dogs like you."
"Seriously doubt that. You don't have the least idea the kind of tiger you've grabbed onto. But if you plan to kill somebody, you'd best get at it right now. Just know this. You so much as twitch a finger toward that smoke pole on your lardy hip, and I'll put so many holes in your sorry hide, me and Mr. Farnsworth will be able to read tomorrow's San Antonio newspaper through them."
For the first time, I got a good look at his eyes. They were the color of dog piss. God had gifted ole Bruno with mad-looking yellow orbs like some kind of giant, poisonous lizard. They blinked real fast, and almost crossed, always a good sign from a man you just might have to kill. Think it surprised Kleitz that I'd stood up to him. Now I had the stupid lunkhead thinking about the possibility of dying in a pistol fight. Leastways, hoped I did. Hard to tell with a man who looks like he has all the brains of an empty water trough.
Bruno tried to recover, and went to shaking his finger at me again. "Guess you must think you're some kind of gunhand, Moon. Big-talkin', no-doin' sons of bitches like you don't scare me one damned bit."
He had to strain to hear me when I said, "You should be afraid, Bruno, very afraid. Death is looking you right in the face. You should be shaking right down to the soles of those canoes covering your feet."
My little joke went right over his anvil-thick head. Watched him try to reason out what I'd said. He looked like a redbone hound locked in a futile attempt to read one of Shakespeare's plays, or perhaps reason out the chemical properties of homemade liquor.
After some seconds of what appeared to be painf
ul thought, Kleitz whipped his shaking finger at me again and blubbered, "We'll take this disagreement up another time, you thievin' bastard. Best keep on the lookout for me, Moon. First chance I git, gonna bust you open like a ripe melon, stomp a ditch in you, and then stomp 'er dry." He cackled at his own effort at humor, and headed for the door. Hit the batwing so hard, thought for a second he'd knocked it off the brass hinges.
Once I'd made certain the creature had truly vacated the premises, returned to my table with Farnsworth and said, "Is he truly dangerous, or simply a mouthy blow-hard?"
"Oh, he's dangerous for damned sure. Not prone to making idle threats either. Over a four- or five-year span, think Bruno's beaten or stomped the juice out of almost every man and boy around here that he believed had so much as glanced at Ella."
"Why in the hell didn't anyone warn me about him?"
"We all thought the poor, stupid critter left town for good. That tale he told about how much Ella loved him is the biggest pile of cow flops I've ever heard. Reason he struck out on the drive in the first place was because she'd made it crystal clear just how little affection actually existed between them."
Took a sip from my beaker of tonsil paint and leaned back in my chair. "Well, I'd prefer not to have any trouble with the blithering idiot if possible. But I won't run, and won't let him do me, or Ella, any harm. Best inform Mr. Bruno Kleitz and his family that should he do anything to threaten our health, I'll kill him graveyard dead quicker than a newborn can get the hiccups."
Nothing I'd learned about Justin Farnsworth led me to believe he was a man given to a healthy load of stupid. Way he looked at me when I said what I did indicated he believed every word that came out of my mouth. And I have full faith he took my message to the astonishingly witless Bruno and his kinfolk. But telling a man as pea-brained as Kleitz anything is, most of the time, about as useful as speaking Mandarin to a tree full of squirrels.
Next time I saw Ella, she said, "Don't worry about the big dumb ox. He's all talk."
"Not according to what I've heard. Way I understand past events, ole Bruno has proved quite a thorn in your beautiful paw over the past few years."
Her chin dropped to her chest, and she shook her head like a weary animal. "True enough. Had more'n my share of problems with him. Guess the worst was when he beat the bejabbers out of Tony Madigan for sparkin' me some."
"What do you mean by 'bejabbers'?"
"Bruno snuck up behind Tony one night out in front of the El Perro Blanco. Jumped on the boy and gave him one helluva thrashin'. Doc said Bruno broke every bone in Tony's face. Took that poor busted-up boy almost a year to recover. He was one good-looking kid. Leastways, up until Bruno got through whompin' on him. Poor Tony left town soon as he could ride. Never came back. And there was one other thing, too."
"What?"
"He tried to force himself on me about every other day for longer than I'd like to remember. Ripped most of my clothes off at least twice a month. I fought him off most times, and that's not an easy thing to do. Thought he might be on the verge of doin' me in the last time he jumped on me. Pa's threatened to kill him if he didn't straighten up. Might as well have been talking to a mesquite bush. Unfortunately, Bruno's always done as he pleased."
Damn, but her revelation of that monster's past sins hit me like a load of bricks. Made my feelings on the matter as unmistakable as possible when I said, "Told your father I'd kill Mr. Bruno Kleitz deader than hell in a parson's front parlor myself if he made any move to hurt either of us. I meant every word of it, Ella."
She held my hand, flashed me a tender smile, and said, "I know, but don't worry, Henry. Nothing's gonna happen." Suffice it to say, Ella Farnsworth would never be able to make a living as a fortune-teller with a traveling carnival.
I noticed that her former beau started shadowing us not long after our little dustup in the saloon. Spotted him one morning trailing along behind when we went out to Elephant Butte. Got to where every Sunday, the smug bastard sat in the pew right behind us during the worship services. Couple of times he followed me over to the Farnsworth hacienda when Ella invited me over for supper. And while he never did anything out of the way, or even popped off at the mouth again, his behavior got me madder than the buzzard that circled a sick heifer for three hours before it realized the cow was only asleep.
Came a point where Kleitz's behavior bordered on the creepy. For a man who couldn't pour rainwater out of a mule-eared boot, 'less the instructions were printed on the heel, he possessed an uncanny ability to show up no matter where I decided to go. Can't count on all my fingers the times he appeared like a materializing ghost at the cantina within a minute of my arrival. Same thing happened to Ella. Girl got mighty agitated after about two months of such conduct on his part.
She rode over to my place late one afternoon, so we could sit on my front porch and watch the sun go down. Noticed, for the first time since we met, she carried a Remington pistol on her hip. No teensy-weensy little female-type pocket popper either.
Pointed at the weapon and said, "Now that's new and different. When did you start packin'? Thought all those warlike Comanches lived up in the Nations now."
Her eyes dropped and she toed around at a rough spot on one of the planks under her foot. "Don't get mad, Henry, but Bruno scared me."
That one stood me up in a hurry. Grabbed her by the shoulders. "What do you mean by scared you? What the hell did he do?"
"Aw, nothin' really."
Gently shook the girl, then used my finger to tilt her head up so I could see her eyes. "If that's the case, Ella, you wouldn't be carrying a gun right now. So tell me what he did."
She turned away and talked to the dying sun. "He caught me 'bout dark yesterday on the boardwalk in town. Jerked me into an alley and ran his hand down the front of my pants. We rassled around for a bit. But he dragged me down, and pretty much took advantage of me. Not altogether, but he sure tried."
"I'll just be damned."
"He's as strong as an ox, and it took some doin', but I finally got away from him like I'd done before. Think he might have just let me go on purpose. Big jackass laughed at me when I ran away. Guess he'd got what he always wanted. Still and all, he tore my pants to ribbons and ripped my shirt open. Don't know how I got back home and nobody managed to see me in such a terrible state."
I jumped off the porch and headed for the corral. Ella ran along behind and grabbed me by the arm. "What are you gonna do, Henry?"
"Time has come for Bruno Kleitz to meet his Maker. I'll find the soulless son of a bitch, then kill him."
She latched onto my arm and went to begging. "Let it go, Moon. Nothin' he did is worth the possibility of you dyin' over it. Besides, you're new here and don't know how powerful Bruno's family is. He could do whatever he wanted with me and then kill both of us. His family would buy him out of it."
Couldn't believe she didn't want any action taken against the bastard for his obviously brutal behavior. Grabbed her by the shoulders again and said, "No man should ever be allowed to so much as touch a woman if she doesn't want it. What Kleitz did went way beyond an unwanted touch. There's graveyards full of bastards like him who did less, and got sent to Jesus by men just like me.
Tears streamed down her cheeks. "But if you kill him, people will find out what happened to me." She turned away. "I don't want anyone in town to be aware of it. It's bad enough knowing that he felt like he could do what he did and get away with the act." A pall of resignation dropped over her face. "Actually, I'm surprised something like this hasn't happened before now. It's not like he hasn't made previous attempts. I've just always let his brutal advances pass. If you confront him, your actions could get us all killed."
Well, hard as it was, I let Bruno's violent act pass for Ella's sake. That single errant decision was perhaps one of the worst I ever made. Secretly promised myself that if anything else wayward occurred, the stupid son of a bitch wouldn't see the next morning's light. Should've gone ahead and shot hell out of the wor
thless slug that afternoon.
One of my old friend Cutter Sharpe's favorite sayings kept ringing in my ears. He used to light up, go into something of a philosophical trance, and say, "Eli, you should never put off killing any man who needs killing right now. Simple way of thinking I've always lived by. Will serve you well to adopt the same attitude. Failure might cause you to wake up shoveling coal in Hell."
Jesus, man should've been writing books.
18
"Can't let wolves eat him, Moon."
Next evening, I saddled up and moseyed over to the Farnsworth place for a weekly dinner with Ella and her father that she got me started on right after we met. She skillfully hid her feelings from Justin, but I could still see the impact of the previous day's events in her eyes. Felt right sorry for her, and angry beyond words that I hadn't gone ahead and rubbed the "Bruno" problem out of her life like wiping crumbs off the supper table.
By the time we'd finished a fine meal, the deepening twilight made it difficult to see from the lamp-lit safety of their home into the darkness outside. I stepped onto the front porch to have a smoke. Got the first puff down, and there was a rush of movement in the darkness. Barely saw Bruno's cannonball-sized fist coming at my head in time to dodge most of the blow. Couple of his knuckles glanced off the side of my surprised noggin just above the ear. Felt like I'd been hit with a hatchet. The jolt split my scalp, and sticky blood flooded into my ear and mouth.
He laughed and barked, "I'm gonna have fun kickin' the dog crap outta you, Moon."
I staggered about two steps, went down like a felled oak, and landed on my face next to a woodpile Justin kept on the porch for easy access during the winter. Thank God I had enough presence of mind still available to immediately roll to one side. Thought I heard Ella scream as I scrambled around on the dirty porch. Her father hollered as well. Sounded like all the shouting, tumult, and commotion came from somewhere underwater, though.
