Code of the West

by Aaron Latham

  45

  Goodnight and Revelie walked along the river while Coffee finished cooking supper. The cowboys were already lounging around the cook shack waiting to be fed. She wore a brown skirt and white blouse, which were spotless. He wore his old canvas pants and faded red shirt. He was peppered all over with red dust while she remained unsoiled. He seemed to live in a dirty place while she lived in a clean one. He wondered how she did it. This Writer woman had strong medicine. She was ready for afternoon high tea while he was ready for grub.

  The sun was getting larger and cooler. A wild turkey emerged from a hackberry thicket and walked along the stream ahead of them. Goodnight pointed and Revelie did too, both at the same time. Each one wanted to be sure the other saw the remarkable bird that had come along to grace their walk.

  “Where’s the other one?” Goodnight whispered.

  “Which other one?” Revelie asked.

  “Whenever you see one, you usually see another.”

  The second turkey emerged from the thicket and followed its mate.

  “I like that,” Revelie said.

  “Uh-huh,” Goodnight agreed.

  Reaching over, the cowboy took the lady’s hand. She squeezed back. He expected her to release the pressure after a moment, but she didn’t. She continued to hang on tight. He studied her to see if anything was wrong.

  “Let’s go home,” she said.

  “We are home,” he said.

  “Let’s go to the house.”

  “Sure. Somethin’ wrong?”

  “No. Let’s hurry.”

  “What’s the matter?”

  Goodnight felt himself being tugged along by his bride, who was walking faster than he was. He hoped she wasn’t sick. He figured it was probably some female problem, so he decided not to press her too closely. He would just go along for the ride.

  “Let’s run,” she said.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked again.

  Revelie started running and he ran to keep up. They were still holding hands. Her skirts rustled as she ran, which attracted the attention of the hungry cowboys assembled at the cook shack. Goodnight read curiosity and concern on their faces.

  “Faster,” she said.

  They picked up their speed and kicked up plenty of red dust. The cowboys started moving slowly toward them to see what was wrong.

  “Tell them nothin’s wrong,” Revelie said.

  “Nothin’s wrong,” Goodnight called.

  They were getting near the house now, but she didn’t slow down. He wondered if she would be able to stop in time to keep from running right into a closed door. Somehow she managed to skid to a halt just before she got hurt. He had more trouble putting on the brakes and ran into her from behind.

  “Excuse me,” he said.

  Revelie was already opening the door to their bedroom. Goodnight followed her inside. They were both perspiring and breathing hard from their run.

  “What’s the matter?” Goodnight asked again.

  “Take your clothes off,” Revelie said.

  He just stared at her as she began to undress.

  “Come on, I’m serious,” she said. “Hurry up.”

  Goodnight hurriedly started unbuttoning his dusty red shirt. She struggled out of her blouse and started on her skirt. He reached for his belt. She went to work unlacing her whalebone corset.

  Goodnight was startled by a knock at the door.

  “Anything wrong?” Simon’s voice called.

  “No, nothin’,” Goodnight gasped, out of breath.

  His wife took hold of her husband and pulled him down onto the bed. They kissed hard and rolled on the wild feathers. Now they were breathing even harder than they had been when they were running. She was soon moaning, but it didn’t bother him because nobody was next door and because he just didn’t mind.

  Coffee rang the loud dinner bell at just the right moment. It was almost as if he were spying on them and so knew just when to ring it. To mark the moment. They laughed and hung onto each other—and decided to skip dinner.

  Goodnight lay next to Revelie, hovering happily near sleep. He wanted to stay half-awake to savor the feeling, but at the same time dreams beckoned. He told himself that dreams couldn’t possibly measure up to this reality, but his mind wasn’t listening to him. Deeper, darker, calmer . . .

  “Tell me your secrets,” Revelie said.

  “What?” asked a dazed Goodnight, coming up from strata of consciousness far below.

  “Tell me your secrets,” she repeated in a soft, happy, intimate voice. “That’s what married couples do. No secrets anymore. We’re one person.”

  Goodnight was groggy, flustered—and afraid. He had secrets he couldn’t talk about, or so he believed. He didn’t know what to do. He needed time to think.

  “You tell me your secrets,” he said defensively.

  “I asked first,” she said.

  “Whass that got to do with it?”

  “That’s one of the rules. You’ve got to learn about rules, Mr. Goodnight. So I say again: Tell me your secrets.”

  “I don’t have no secrets.” His heart was a rabbit. “I’m just a simple man.”

  “Liar.” Her accusation was serious, but her tone was playful. “Coward.”

  “I’m sorry. Not now. I’m tired. Later.”

  “I’ll hold you to that,” the bride said with a laugh.

  46

  Goodnight had worked on it all day long. He had expected to be finished by now, but he wasn’t. It still wasn’t right, still not quite good enough for her. So he worked on it a second day. By afternoon, he was ready to give it to her.

  “Close your eyes,” Goodnight said.

  “Okay,” Revelie said, “they’re closed.”

  His wife sat on the corral fence with her hands over her eyes. She was wearing a pale blue skirt. Her husband led a horse out of the barn.

  “Okay, you can open them now,” he said.

  She opened her eyes and studied the horse, but even though she squinted, she couldn’t quite see what was so unusual about this particular animal.

  “What is it?” Revelie asked at last.

  “A present,” said Goodnight.

  “You’re giving me a horse?”

  “No. I mean, well, yes, you can have the horse if’n you want it, but that ain’t the point.”

  “What’s the point?”

  “The saddle. I built you a new saddle. Not just new but a new kind. Ain’t ever been a saddle quite like this here one before.”

  “Really?”

  Revelie studied her new saddle, but she evidently didn’t see anything particularly revolutionary about it. He was a little disappointed.

  “Don’t you see?” Goodnight asked.

  “See what?” Revelie asked. “It’s a sidesaddle, isn’t it? All the horse-women in Boston ride sidesaddle in the park.”

  “Look closely,” he said. “It’s a sidesaddle, but it ain’t a sidesaddle like you ever seen before.”

  “If you say so.” She shrugged. “I’m afraid I don’t know much about any sort of saddle.”

  “See, most sidesaddles, they just got one post for a lady to hook her leg over. Now that’s okay for back East. But for rougher ground, well, a lady needs more to wrap her legs around.”

  “And you know how much I love to wrap my legs.”

  “That ain’t the point. The point is that this here saddle’s got two posts. One pointin’ up. T’other pointin’ down. Now your legs’ll have somethin’ to hang onto. See?”

  The top post looked like a big thumb giving a thumbs-up sign while the bottom one looked like a thumb giving thumbs-down.

  “I’m not sure.”

  “Come closer. I’ll show you.”

  Moving uncertainly, Revelie got down off the fence and walked to the horse. She stood beside her bridegroom.

  “Look, you hook your right leg over this here top post,” he said, touching the thumb pointing up. “And then you just put your left foot in this here le
ft stirrup like some reg’lar rider. See?”

  “You mean like a man?” she said.

  “Well, uh, yeah, somethin’ like that. Uh, like I was sayin’, you put your left foot in this here stirrup, see? But if’n it gets rough, you can just lift up your left knee under this here bottom post.” He touched the big thumb pointing down. “That way, with your right knee over the top post an’ your left knee under the bottom post, you can squeeze them posts like a vice. See? Ain’t no way you’re fallin’ off. Right? Git the idea? I wouldn’t be surprised none if this here thing caught on.”

  Revelie studied the saddle, creasing her forehead, wiggling her nose.

  “I think so,” she said without conviction.

  “Good,” he said. “I’ll help ya up.”

  “But I don’t know how to ride,” she said.

  “I’m fixin’ to teach ya.”

  Goodnight saw her shudder. Then she just stood there staring at the sidesaddle.

  “It won’t bite ya,” he promised.

  “What about the horse?” she asked.

  “She won’t bite ya neither, most likely.”

  “She’s a she?”

  “Yessum.”

  “Well, that’s good. Anyway, I think it’s good. A girl wouldn’t hurt a girl, would she? Now that I think about it, that’s a dumb question.”

  “Don’t worry. The saddle’ll do all the work. Then we can go ridin’ around the canyon together. Gimme your left foot.”

  Goodnight made what looked like a stirrup with his hands, his fingers knitted together. She put her left foot in it, and he gave her a boost. But she didn’t turn as she was going up, so she ended up lying on her stomach across the saddle rather than sitting on it.

  “I did something wrong,” she said, out of breath.

  “I reckon so,” he said. “Just slide down. I’ll catch you.”

  Revelie let go of the saddle and slid backward on her stomach. Goodnight caught her around the waist and set her softly on the ground.

  “I’ll show you,” he said.

  Goodnight put his left foot in the left stirrup, stepped up, and halfturned, but rather than throwing his right foot over the horse’s back, he simply hooked it over the top post. So both his feet were on the left side of the horse.

  “You look real purdy!” Too Short yelled from across the corral. “I think I’m in love.”

  “You’re too short for me,” Goodnight shouted back. Then he turned his attention to Revelie and said, “See how it goes?”

  “We’ll see,” she said.

  Goodnight dismounted, gave the horse a pat, and then turned to his new wife.

  “You’ll git it this time,” he said.

  Once again, Goodnight made a stirrup with his hands. Once more, Revelie stepped into this stirrup and he gave her a lift up. She turned awkwardly but nonetheless managed to hook her right knee over the top post.

  “Great!” Goodnight cheered. “You look great.”

  “Thanks,” Revelie said. “Now what do I do?”

  “Sit up straighter in the saddle. You’ll be better balanced.”

  Goodnight watched Revelie obey. She straightened her back as if she were sitting in a cane-backed chair.

  “That’s purdy good,” he said. “Now exaggerate it. Be a little swaybacked. Be a little pregnant.”

  “Be a little pregnant?” she gasped. “First, I’m grabbing these posts between my legs as if I were in love with them. And then I’m a little pregnant. What are you really trying to teach me, Mr. Goodnight?” She laughed.

  He looked around quickly to see if any of his cowboys happened to be within hearing distance. They were all off doing ranch chores except . . .

  “Thass right, Mr. Goodnight!” called Too Short. “What kinda place is this, anyhow?”

  “Just a figure a speech,” Goodnight yelled back. Then he lowered his voice and said, “Now do like I say or you’ll fall off.”

  Revelie swayed her back, her stomach stuck out in front, and she looked quite pregnant.

  “Thass the right idea,” Goodnight said, “but you’re overdoin’ it just a smidgin.”

  Revelie relaxed a little.

  “Thass good,” he said. “Thass perfect.”

  “Now what does the pregnant lady do?” she asked.

  “Now you give a little kick with your left heel.”

  “I’ve got a better idea.”

  “What?”

  “The pregnant lady wants to go try to get more pregnant.”

  Without warning, Revelie suddenly jumped from the back of the horse. Stunned, Goodnight was momentarily paralyzed. Then he came back to life, rushed forward, and barely caught her. They smiled at each other.

  “See,” Revelie said, “I trusted you. I knew you’d catch me. Now you have to trust me. Tell me what you’ve been hiding?” She laughed. “It’ll be all right. I promise. I know you lived with the savages.”

  Goodnight wanted to tell her about his lost years, his Human years, his years as a warrior. But he couldn’t bear to mention the names of the dead. Couldn’t bear to revisit their graves, even in his mind.

  “Later,” Goodnight promised again.

  47

  That afternoon, Goodnight and Revelie rode side by side along the red river that wound through the red canyon. He could tell that she was still nervous—and of course the horse could tell it too—but she was making progress. Her slightly pregnant posture on horseback was good, although she sat a little too stiffly. She held the reins a little too tightly in her left hand, leaving her right hand free for roping, which she wasn’t really likely to try anytime soon. When her horse decided to stop, lower its head, and chomp some grass, Revelie did nothing to discourage it.

  “Hold her head up,” Goodnight said.

  “I can’t,” Revelie said. “I’m not as strong as a horse.”

  “But you gotta make her think you’re not just as strong but stronger.”

  “How am I going to do that?”

  “Just act like you’re stronger. If you believe it yourself, she’ll believe it.”

  “But I don’t believe it.”

  Goodnight stared at her with what he was afraid was an exasperated expression on his face. She looked back at him with a hostile expression. He decided to try to make up before a fight started.

  “Well, this is as good a place as any for a rest stop,” Goodnight said. “We ain’t in no hurry. Less git down and sit a spell, huh?”

  “Good idea,” Revelie said.

  He dismounted and then helped her down. They sat side by side on a large, flat-topped sandstone rock.

  “You’re doin’ real good,” Goodnight said.

  “Thank you,” Revelie said. “But I just don’t feel comfortable yet.”

  “That’ll come.”

  The newlyweds sat and watched the horses eat the new spring grass. They had noisy teeth.

  “This grass’ll git tough later on,” Goodnight said, “but right now it’s nice an’ tender.”

  “Oh, yes,” Revelie said, not particularly interested.

  “The thing is a person could lie down on it now,” he said. “While it’s tender like this.”

  He got up from the rock and lay down in the soft grass. He stretched out and smiled. He rolled over and smiled again.

  “How is it?” Revelie asked.

  “Good,” Goodnight said. “Wanta try it.”

  Revelie moved tentatively from the rock to the grass. She lay beside her husband. He rolled closer to her, placed his face over hers, and kissed her. His right hand reached for her left breast.

  “Wait,” she protested. “What do you think you’re doing?”

  He pulled his hand away. He was surprised, confused, and a little angry. She had led him to believe that she was always eager to make love, but now she rejected him. Was she only interesting in lovemaking when it was her idea? Was she trying to dominate him? To rule him? He had so looked forward to lying with her outdoors in his red canyon, and now she had ruined it. />
  “What’s the matter?” he asked in a choked voice.

  “This isn’t a bedroom,” she said.

  “It’s a great bedroom. The best bedroom in the whole damn world.”

  “What if somebody comes along? One of the cowboys?”

  “They won’t. I sent ’em all to work t’other end a the canyon.”

  “You did?” Revelie grinned. “You really did?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  Goodnight reached for his wife’s breast once again.

  “Wait,” she said. “No, it still doesn’t seem right. I don’t know. Out here, God can see us.”

  “God won’t mind.”

  “You don’t know. How do you know?”

  “Because he made Adam and Eve.”

  “And you’re telling me this is Eden?”

  “Purdy near.”

  “So you think it would be all right?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  When he reached for her breast this time, she didn’t stop him. Soon they were making love in God’s own vast bedroom. This time he was the wild one. The wild man in him led the wild woman in her to greater and greater heights—and lower and lower depths—of ecstasy. He danced a war dance on top of her and let out war cries.

  “Shhh,” she said, “they’ll hear you.”

  “Who cares?”

  Soon she was screaming her own war cries.

  That was the best,” Revelie said as she lay in his arms. “Why didn’t you ever tell me about making love out-of-doors before?”

  “I was waitin’ for you to learn how to ride,” Goodnight said.

  “Why doesn’t everybody make love out-of-doors all the time? Why does anybody ever make love inside?”

  “I dunno.”

  The clouds overhead looked to him like huge feather beds chasing each other around the heavens.

  “How did you know it would be so great out-of-doors?” she asked.

  “Lucky guess,” he said.

  “Did you ever make love out-of-doors before?”

  The question frightened him. He was sure she felt him jump. He didn’t want to answer her question. He didn’t even want to think about answering it. He knew he couldn’t lie to her.

  “Uh-huh,” he said in a thick voice.

  “You did! No! I wanted to be the first. I wanted to be the only.”