Nazareth

by Tony Masero

  ‘You’re right there,’ agreed Les. ‘Jethro’s turning into a regular hardcase.’

  ‘You think so?’ asked Freddie.

  They all stopped at the carriage end, opened the connecting door and stepped out onto the platform between carriages.

  ‘So what do we do?’ asked Les.

  The air was full of cinders and the smell of soot from the racing locomotive up front. The wheels clattered over the links beneath them and the carriage platform shook and swayed underfoot.

  ‘Hell if I know,’ grumbled Barnaby.

  ‘We’re pards ain’t we?’ asked Freddie. ‘Only one thing you can do.’

  Les looked at him derisively, ‘What’s that, oh wise one?’

  Freddie shrugged, ‘We got to stand together, that’s what friends are for, ain’t it?’

  ‘Sure,’ agreed Barnaby. ‘Just don’t know if I want to go down a killing path to prove it.’

  Freddie shook his head, ‘It might never come to that. You wait and see, Jethro will come out of it. This is just a temporary thing, he’ll be his old self, soon enough.’

  ‘I ain’t so sure,’ said Barnaby. ‘All the time I’ve known him I’ve never seen him like this.’

  ‘It’ll be okay, trust me.’

  Barnaby and Les both stared at Freddie, ‘Guess the oracle has spoken,’ quipped Les dismissively.

  ‘Look,’ explained Freddie. ‘I know how he feels; it’s the same for me. When everything you do is wrong, it all comes out a mistake somehow. There’s no figuring it, it just happens that way but it gets you down. Really makes you feel empty inside, like you’re lost or something.’

  ‘That how you feel?’ frowned Les.

  ‘Most of the time,’ agreed Freddie.

  ‘And you get past it?’

  ‘Most of the time,’ repeated Freddie.

  ‘Okay,’ sighed Barnaby. ‘I guess we stay with it then.’

  ‘That’s the spirit,’ said Freddie cheerfully as he stepped across the intervening space to the next carriage.

  But Jethro’s anger burned deep.

  Everything seemed to pile up on him with the feeling his entire life had been wasted. It rankled him that luck had passed him by so often, and nothing was working out, not with the woman or any pathetic attempts they had made to follow the outlaw road. And now Dale was dead, was that his fault too, he wondered. Had his younger brother followed in his footsteps and then paid the price for his own lousy luck by association?

  It was a burr under his blanket and only fed his sense of disassociation from the others. What did they know? Feeding off his decisions without minds of their own, maybe it had been them that had brought him so low with all their apathetic obedience.

  He scratched his chin thoughtfully and saw his reflection repeat the gesture. But in the moment it was as if he stared at his doppelganger from outside himself. He saw afresh the unshaven chin and the harsh twist of his features, the sneering lip and the deeply hooded eyes staring back at him.

  ‘My God!’ he thought. ‘I do look kinda crazy.’

  His mind was fractured and in disarray and whilst he stared at the darkened window Minnie, unbidden, flashed into his mind again with her nubile body naked up on the cliff as she accepted him. The soft feel of her skin as his hand slid down her slender waist and over the swell of her hip. The memory held a cooling balm to his scattered nerves and he wished in his heart that things had not turned out like they had. But then he remembered she was not his, she belonged to the lousy dog that had killed his brother.

  Billy Lee LaBone!

  He would make him pay, it did not matter that Dale had been engaged in robbery at the time, that was all a part of the game. What did matter was that he made reparation himself, nobody else would, that was for sure. And his vanity would not let it go. With the coming of the pride and as he shrugged on the coat of vengeance again, the depression descended on him also once more. He felt a burning sense of worthlessness in his gut that could only be put right by bloody murder and a spiteful and mean nature assuring him that he was ready to kill.

  They would be in Nazareth soon then he would track down Minnie. She would lead them to LaBone he was sure of it. It would all be resolved in Nazareth and that would be the end of his troubles.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Billy Lee decided it was time to make his play.

  He could hear Boulder struggling with the reins and hollering at the team as he negotiated turns in the trail. The wagon bed jolted and vibrated beneath him and he bounced on the flat wooden base uncomfortably. It was hot and the air rank under the suffocating stink of the dirty tarpaulin and he longed to throw it off, but now was not the time as it gave him cover from any stray look that Boulder might cast over his shoulder.

  This was the moment to put to use the hidden compartments he had specially had built into his new boots. His hands were tied behind him and he reached down, twisting his body so that, with knees bent, his fingertips could reach the mule-ear flaps hanging from the boot tops that in most normal boots helped to pull them on. It was a long reach and his fingers slipped and worked to gain a good grasp. Then, he had the right hand flap in his hand and he tugged. It was an awkward angle and stiff, the leather being so new and the sheath inside the boot so tightly sewn in place. He worked at it, wriggling until the short bladed knife came free.

  With a sigh he relaxed and stretched his strained limbs, the knife held securely in his hand. Then he crooked his ankles up again and sawed at the rope there. It took minutes, the steel blade was sharp and unused before and it made short work of the cord. Again there was relief as his legs were freed.

  He rested a moment and then began work on his wrists, turning the knife blade so that it rested against his bonds and he could work again the taut ropes. It was a return to his escape from the underwater bindings only this time he had a lurching wagon to contend with rather than the suffocating oppression of deep water.

  They were gone! He was free and with relief he felt the rush of blood send his fingertips tingling as circulation returned. With the sharp knifepoint held above his face, he pressed it gently against the tarpaulin and made a small incision. He could see Boulder above his head hunched over on the driving seat as he cursed and lashed at the team with the reins.

  ‘Come on you sonsabitches, get the lead out! Move it will you.’

  Slowly, Billy Lee carved a line down the length of canvas, the old material parting easily under the keen blade and the ripping sound hidden by the bumping wagon. He eased himself up and rose quietly from the confines of the material. The wagon continued to buck and sway and Billy Lee bent his legs at the knee to take the movement. He moved up behind the unsuspecting Boulder and leaned over the seat back and pressed the knifepoint in firmly just below his right ear.

  ‘Pull up!’ he breathed hoarsely into Boulder’s ear.

  ‘What the….’ bleated Boulder. ‘How in tarnation….’

  ‘Just stop this thing.’

  ‘You got a knife on me there?’ asked Boulder, jerking back in fear.

  ‘Right under your ear,’ Billy Lee affirmed. ‘And the way this wagon’s leaping about it could go in deep any minute.’

  Boulder spat in anger and hauled on the reins, ‘Goddamn, where did you get that?’

  ‘You should have let Val take my boots, you might have found it then.’

  ‘Okay, I’m doing it,’ said Boulder, his foot applying the brake and the wagon slowing to a stop. ‘You got me, LaBone, blast your eyes.’

  ‘Unbuckle your gun belt, left hand only.’

  Fuming, Boulder did as he was told and awkwardly undid the belt.

  ‘There, what do you want me to do with it?’ he said, holding the leather belt in his left hand out and away from his body.

  ‘Toss it over the side.’

  Boulder shifted in the seat as if to throw the belt aside but instead he whipped it around over his shoulder and the heavy holstered pistol and weight of ammunition caught Billy Lee a tremendous crack on
the side of the head. Billy Lee spun away, jolted by the blow and Boulder was quickly on the move. He jumped up and turned in the seat, already pulling at his gun in the loose belt.

  Billy Lee leapt forward, crashing into Boulder and carrying both of them from the driving seat and onto the backs of the mule team. Billy Lee stabbed with his knife but Boulder warded him off by lashing with the belt again. The animals under them reared in fright and the two men tumbled between, dropping through the links and rolling and falling onto the ground under the mule’s hoofs.

  Billy Lee turned over, trying to avoid the kicking of the terrified mules. He saw his moment and rolled out away under the offside mule’s belly. He heard Boulder give an ‘Oof!’ of pain as a hoof landed on his gut and then he too was free on the opposite side.

  Both men rose together, Boulder had the pistol out and was leveling it across the mule’s haunches. He was unfortunate, the already disturbed mule, bucked at the intervention and Boulder’s jogged arm sent the bullet winging its way skywards. Billy Lee was fast in response, his hand was back and he threw the knife full in Boulder’s face. The blade whipped across the mule’s backs in a sheen of silver flash and thudded into Boulder’s left eye. With a scream, Boulder fired as his head threw back. Billy Lee ducked and the bullet went sailing over his head. Still crouched down, his hand went to the flap on his other boot and he jerked out the small derringer he had taken from the rigger and kept secreted there.

  ‘God damn you! God damn you!’ Boulder was screaming. He was firing wildly, staggering around with the blade stuck in his face and blood streaming down his cheek. One of the two mules took a bullet in the hindquarters and reared, squealing in pain before falling against its companion who knocked into Billy Lee buffeting him away.

  Boulder was turning in frantic circles, one hand on the knife handle and the other waving the gun around.

  ‘I’ll kill you!’ he cried. ‘My eye! Oh, my eye!’

  Billy Lee scrambled to his feet and stepped around in front of the restless team and raised the derringer, his arm held out straight before him. He walked up close to the weaving Boulder and from not more than two feet away he aimed and fired.

  The bullet hit Boulder in the left temple. It did its thing as bullets do and circled around inside the skull instantly turning the gunman’s brain to mush. He fell without a sound as if every coordinated part of his body had lost control and he lay twitching and vibrating on the ground whilst the last few sparks of nervous intelligence flew away.

  Breathing deeply, Billy Lee bent over and relieved the shivering hand of the pistol. When Boulder finally lay still, Billy Lee placed one boot on the dead man’s jaw and levered his knife free then wiped it clean of blood on the dead man’s shirt.

  He felt nothing only the usual tremble that accompanied him after every act of violence. He was sure that Boulder would have committed terrible acts of torture on him if they had ever reached Nazareth and he felt no sorrow at his passing.

  He took Boulder’s hat and jacket and the gunman’s belt and strapped it on, and then he reloaded the pistol and slipped the derringer and knife back in place before going over to the team. The wounded mule was bleeding from the gunshot and Billy Lee determined the animal could not go on. He unhitched the two mules and leaving the wounded creature and the wagon standing beside the road he mounted up bareback and using the harness urged the animal on towards Nazareth.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Minnie and Doctor Jack had used their time well on the protracted train journey. They had practiced the Indian Sign Language and with Minnie’s burning desire to be able to communicate she had eagerly picked up enough for simple conversation. It gave her an enormous drive of confidence to no longer be lost in total silence and as with most human beings who lose the ability with one sense the others will strive to make up the balance. Her mind quickly adapted and stored away many of the gestures and their meanings.

  When they left the station, Doctor Jack bought them two horses and tackle from the nearby stable yard with his remaining funds and they set of fast for Nazareth.

  After a days hard riding they reached the coastal town as night descended. Minnie took the lead and guided them to the trail that led from the Nazareth Light on the promontory through the Old Town and on to The Broken Wing saloon.

  The Old Town was dark, the narrow passageways and overhanging houses lit only by moonlight and the few windows alight with lamps inside. Wetness gleamed on the cobblestones underfoot and contrasted sharply with the shadows. It was cold with a keen breeze blowing off the sea and the air was sharp in their nostrils, the two ponies puffing clouds of vapor as they rode in a clatter through the streets.

  ‘You think Billy Lee will be up here?’ Doctor Jack asked.

  Minnie cast dismissive fingers – I don’t know.

  ‘What about Burk and his men?’

  Again – I don’t know.

  ‘Maybe we should go careful,’ he advised.

  She nodded agreement and they slowed the ponies to a walk. Using sign parodying fingers walking across her palm, Minnie suggested they tie off the ponies and approach the saloon on foot so as not to advertise their presence. She was nervous being back in the place where such terrible things had happened to her and she dreaded meeting Burk’s two henchmen again. She knew they frequented The Broken Wing and it brought a feeling of nausea to the pit of her stomach. Only her determination to warn Billy Lee drove her on.

  They left the Old Town and walked up along the deserted cliff top track heading for the isolated tumble of buildings that were The Broken Wing. The place held a certain amount of embarrassment for the town given the nature of its business and so was set apart as a result. It was a pretension of course, as most male members of the community availed themselves of the services up there, but the townsfolk liked to preserve a false sense of propriety and so the saloon sat alone at the cliff edge.

  As they worked their way closer, Minnie could see that there were a number of horses at the hitching rail. Not an unusual amount, enough to warrant a regular show of custom. She clutched her arms around her as the wind whipped in tight against her body. The chill of cold and the shiver of anticipation made her teeth chatter together and she clenched her jaw against it.

  Doctor Jack, ever watchful, noted her distress and laid a gentle hand on her shoulder, ‘It will be alright, have no fear.’

  She gave him a tight smile and nodded her thanks before moving on.

  Four men stepped out of the shadows around the house.

  ‘Thought you’d get here eventually,’ said Jethro, stepping forward.

  Minnie recognized them instantly despite the gloom and their faces being hooded by shadow. Freddie, his head swathed in a bandage that was bright in the moonlight and Les, still in the torn remnants of his Confederate uniform. Behind them the looming and bearded figure of Barnaby, his long Sharps rifle in his hand and the bullet ripped buffalo robe swirling about him in the wind.

  ‘How are you, sweet thing?’ asked Jethro, his voice sharp and harsh against the sound of the wind. ‘Been waiting a while for you. What took you so long? And who’s this with you? What is he, a nigra or some kind of Indian?’

  ‘Something of both actually,’ Doctor Jack answered calmly. ‘The name’s Doctor Jack and you are?’

  ‘Minnie here knows me well, don’t you, honey? I’m Jethro Bayliss.’

  ‘Well then, how can we help you, Mister Bayliss?’

  ‘Don’t think you can help me at all,’ said Jethro, moving towards them, his hand on his pistol grip. ‘But Minnie there, she’s who I want.’

  Minnie moved back a step fearfully.

  ‘Don’t be a-feared, Minnie,’ breathed Jethro. ‘I just need you to step inside that house of ill repute there and aid me in a bit on identification.’

  Minnie shook her head from side to side, her hair flying away from her face in the wind.

  ‘Oh, yes,’ sneered Jethro. ‘You’re going to show me if Billy Lee LaBone is in there. I don’t k
now how he looks but I’m sure you know every crease and crinkle in his body, you being so familiar with him.’

  The other three men had fanned out and were advancing to surround them.

  ‘I don’t think that will be possible,’ said Doctor Jack. ‘I believe the lady is not willing.’

  ‘Am I talking to you?’ snapped Jethro, turning a hard eye on the Indian. ‘Freddie,’ he said over his shoulder. ‘Take this character away, will you?’

  Freddie stepped forward doubtfully, ‘What you want me to do with him?’

  ‘I don’t give a damn; just get him away from me. Put him in one of those sheds or shoot him, I don’t care which.’

  Minnie began making desperate gestures with her hands and Jethro looked at her in bemusement, ‘What’re you doing, girl?’

  ‘She’s trying to explain something to you,’ said Doctor Jack patiently.

  ‘What, with her fingers?’

  ‘That’s right, we speak using sign. I have taught her, I can translate for you.’

  Jethro frowned and looked hard at Minnie, ‘That right? What’s she saying then.’

  Hesitantly and with slow, sharp gestures Minnie began to make sign and Doctor Jack read them for her, filling in her intention as best he could where she lost the words or did not yet know an expression.

  ‘She says, not all is as you think. There was no intent to mislead you, the name she wears was only a disguise, a means to escape from this James Burk person, I believe that is his name, isn’t it, Minnie?’

  She gave a quick nod of affirmation and went on with her signing.

  ‘She wanted to escape and used Billy Lee’s name to disguise herself. If it is true that he shot your kin, a brother wasn’t it? Then she is sure that Billy Lee did it with good reason or it was an accident of some kind. He is a good man. You must not hunt him and kill him.’

  Jethro was dismissive, ‘Oh, no, lady. He’s going to get his, he put down my brother and he will pay, I assure you.’