by Bill Brooks
“Well, there is a place we might find a few woollies,” Billy said without an overabundance of enthusiasm. “But it would be a hard ride to get there. I’m not sure the ladies would manage a ride of that nature…”
Banks looked around at his Emma, then over to where Anne sat, delicately eating her food.
“We could leave them at the camp and just the men strike out, Colonel.”
“No, Rudy,” Emma said. “I’m quite up for such a ride.”
“Oh, come, dear. No point in turning this into a dreadful experience for you, just because Edgar and I want to shoot us a few buffalo. You heard the Colonel.”
“I would like to shoot a buffalo, as well,” Emma said.
Teddy wished he hadn’t been there listening to it, this disagreement between husband and wife. He glanced in Anne’s direction, their eyes met for a flicker, and Edgar seemed to catch the passing look between them but said nothing.
“No, I won’t risk your discomfort,” Banks said. “You and Anne can stay at camp, where it will be nice and safe. The Colonel here can tell you how dangerous it is to try and ride up to a buffalo and shoot it. Isn’t that so, Colonel?”
“Well, if we ride in on ’em and not shoot ’em from a stand, it is mighty dangerous. Yes, sir.”
“You see.”
Emma gave him a cold look.
“Well, then, let’s all get going and not waste the rest of the day,” Banks said.
Teddy, John, and Yankee moved over to the saddle horses and tightened the cinches, then John and Yankee helped the ladies mount. Teddy stood aside, not wanting to make any gesture that might be misconstrued as paying special attention to Anne.
“We’ll have about two hours to hunt,” Billy said, “then we must head back to camp before darkness sets in on us.”
“Fine, lead the way, gentlemen,” Banks commanded.
Billy nodded at John and Yankee and they led out ahead of the others at a good lope with the two gentlemen in tow.
Billy swung his horse around to Emma’s and said, “Your husband is probably making the right decision about tomorrow, ma’am. But from what I’ve seen of you, I’d personally not have any worry about you being on the hunt.” Billy touched the brim of his sombrero gallantly. “You sit a good horse and I’ve no doubt you’re an equal shot. Just wanted you to know.”
“Thank you, Colonel.”
“Yes’m.”
Teddy fell in alongside Anne.
“You’re not enjoying this at all,” he said.
“Not very much.”
“You like, I can lead you back to camp.”
“No, I’ll stick it out.”
“You don’t have to, that’s the thing. Anyone would understand.”
“Edgar wouldn’t.”
“Maybe you should not worry about what he’d want right now.”
“Maybe you’re right.”
Anne spurred her horse and caught up to Billy and Emma. She told them she wanted to go back to camp, that she was feeling a terrible headache and that the cold wasn’t helping any.
Teddy held back away. Saw Cody and Emma both half turn in their saddles to look at him, then Emma nodded and Anne rode back.
“Would you be so kind as to escort me back to camp, Mr. Blue?”
“Hold on a second, let me talk to the Colonel.”
“Of course, but he’s already agreed…”
“I know.”
Teddy rode ahead and asked Billy for a private word.
“Who’s going to keep an eye on your backside if I take her back to camp?”
“We’ll catch up with the others quick. I’ll tell John. He can cover me for the rest of the day.”
“You sure?”
“She’s a guest, old son. The guest always comes first.”
“Okay, but tomorrow, you leave Yankee or John with the women. I’ve got a job to do, as well.”
“Good enough. I appreciate the loyalty.”
Teddy rode back to Anne, said, “Okay.”
“Can we run the horses for a little?”
“Sure.”
So they ran them and it felt good to run them and Teddy could see after they’d run them for a while that Anne’s features took on a softness again. It was as though she’d been locked up in a cell and had just broke free. Like when he broke John out of jail in Las Vegas, how good it felt running and free. He understood.
They rode at a good clip, then slowed the horses to a walk.
The sky began spitting snow.
“What are you thinking?” he asked Anne.
“How I’d like to just keep riding forever.”
“And not go back to New York?”
She didn’t say anything for a while but rode along silently; again she became a mystery to him.
“I wonder what is up that canyon,” she said when they came to a break in the sand hills. It was a side canyon they’d passed earlier before they came across the bear tracks.
“I guess it’s just another old canyon,” Teddy said.
“Let’s go see.”
“For a short ways.”
“For a short ways,” she said.
They rode up through the canyon and pretty soon the walls narrowed down to nothing. It was an old box canyon. Well protected from the wind.
“I’d like to get down for a moment,” she said.
“Okay.”
They dismounted. There was a hollow that was not quite a cave there under the sandstone, a small shelter where Teddy could see some old fires had been built because of the way the ceiling and the walls were smudged black and old chunks of burnt wood were lying scattered across the floor. She went and sat in the hollow and seemed to him like a child curious about the world and everything in it. He went and knelt beside her.
“We shouldn’t stay too long,” he said.
“I know. Listen,” she said.
“What am I supposed to be hearing?”
“Listen to the way the wind sounds.”
“It sounds like a whisper,” he said.
“Yes.”
Then he was kissing her. Her mouth warm and sweet against his. Her arms wrapped around him, clinging to him.
And for a long time they didn’t hear the wind whispering, but only the sounds of their own murmuring. Her flesh was warm against his and they didn’t feel the cold nor see the dark bellies of clouds or taste the spitting snow on their faces.
Time and everything that went with it seemed to stop and when they fixed their clothes again, the world seemed different to them.
After they started back up the canyon she said, “I know I am not supposed to feel happy, but I do.”
“I do too,” he said.
“Don’t think me awful.”
“I don’t think you awful, Anne.”
“I can understand how you might think that I planned this, but I didn’t, really. I mean, I wanted it, I’d thought about it ever since I first saw you. But I didn’t plan for it to happen.”
“I know you didn’t. It was me who suggested you return to camp, remember?”
“How far are we from camp?”
“I guess half an hour now.”
“Kiss me again, Teddy.”
He drew his mount near hers and kissed her. He didn’t want to turn loose of her.
She stared into his eyes intently.
“Thank you,” she said.
He felt suddenly a sense of betrayal to everything he believed in—to Kathleen and to Edgar.
He started to say something but she pressed her fingers to his lips.
“Let’s just leave it as it is this very moment,” she said.
But he couldn’t simply put it out of his mind. If he wasn’t careful, he knew, not only would he become the sort of man he didn’t like, but he’d fail his job at guarding Cody.
He swore to himself then and there as they rode back to camp that he would not be distracted again.
Chapter 21
Mysterious Dave took respite for several days and n
ights following his mistimed foray out to Cody’s ranch; the whine of the bullet that came out of the dark still hummed in his ears like a worrisome bee. It had been a surprise, one that he hadn’t expected, like riding off the bluff and falling into the river. He was wary of any more surprises and twice as determined to kill Buffalo Bill, Buffalo Bill, Buffalo Bill.
That next morning he sold the Indian ponies and bought himself two new pistols and a new rifle and a new hat, as well. He bought three apples to feed Old Blue, then remembered that them buck braves had eaten Old Blue and it made him angry because he sure enough liked that horse plenty. His own nag, having broke its neck when it fell from the cliff into the water, left him without a mount.
He’d told the feller at the livery he wanted to buy a horse.
“Why not just keep one of them Indian nags?”
“I don’t want no reminder of how them nags almost chased me down,” Dave said. “I see them as disloyal.”
“I only got one horse to sell,” the man said. “One of Buffalo Bill’s men came the other day and bought about every horse and mule I had for their big hunt up on the Dismal River.”
“Buffalo Bill, eh?”
“The one and only.”
“Well, I need a horse at ain’t belonged to some Indian, it don’t matter what sort of horse, as long as it can run fast and a long ways.”
“Oh, this one is a mighty good horse. I ’spect he could run a hundred miles nonstop.”
“Then why ain’t you already sold him?”
“It’s his looks mostly. Horse buyers don’t care so much for the looks of him, is all. But he’s a good horse.”
“Let’s have a look at him,” Dave said. “I ain’t particular the way a horse looks.”
The man brought him out and Dave looked at him and said, “What’s wrong with the way he looks? I don’t see nothing wrong with him.”
“Why, he’s only got one ear,” the man said. “That’s about all’s wrong with him.”
Dave counted. He only counted one ear.
“Where’s his other ear at?”
“Got chewed off, I reckon. Something chewed it off, a bobcat or cougar maybe.”
Dave looked closer. The place where the ear should have been looked chewed off, all right.
“Maybe it was a bear chewed it off,” Dave said.
The man raised his hands in supplication.
“Maybe.”
“How much you want for him?”
“I’d take twenty dollars.”
“Knock off five for the missing ear and you got yourself a deal.”
“Okay,” the man said. “But you’ll need a saddle and I got one I could let go for forty.” When Dave’s nag broke its neck and floated away, his saddle went with it.
“Forty-dollar saddle, twenty-dollar horse,” Dave said. “That’s what all those woolly cowboys used to say who came into Dodge. I used to lock some of ’em up, and I shot a few too.”
“Forty-dollar saddle, fifteen-dollar horse,” the man said. “You’re getting quite a bargain, I’d say. I must look like a sucker to you.” The man grinned foolishly.
“Go on put that forty-dollar saddle on him,” Dave said. “I’ll be back shortly.”
Dave went over to a little shop that had LADIES FASHIONS painted on the windowglass in gold lettering and bought Dora a velvet dress. It was green with black trim. Then he stopped downstairs in the bar of the Yellow Dog and bought several bottles of whiskey from the Hunchback and carried everything up to Dora’s crib.
“This is for you,” Dave said, handing her the package with the dress in it. “I didn’t know what size you took, so I sorta guessed. And these are for me and you,” he added, dropping the bottles of whiskey on the bed. “I’m in the mood to celebrate our love. I never celebrated being in love before.”
“I’m sorry, Dave,” Dora said.
“Sorry about what?”
“About you feeling in love.”
“Why, love’s a good thing, the way I see it.”
“I know what it is to give your heart away to another,” Dora said. “But I’ve come into some money. You remember that old man you seen carried out the other day—Judge Harris? He left me a nice stake and I intend to start a new life, one that don’t include outlaws and mankillers and dirty saloons and whoring. And to be honest, it don’t include you either, Dave because you are what you are and I don’t expect you to change on my account.”
Dave sat down on the bed and opened one of the bottles and took a long pull from it, trying to figure out exactly what Dora was saying.
“Where are you going if not here?” he said.
“I always wanted to see Paris.”
“What in hell do you want to go there for, Dora? There ain’t nothing in Paris to look at except a couple of old buildings and a three-legged dog.”
“Why, that is simply not true. You’re telling me that because you don’t want me to go.”
“Hell, it is true, I’ve been to Paris plenty of times. Last time I was there I shot out all the windows along main street.”
“Dave, are you a complete fool? Paris is a big city with thousands of people!”
“No, it ain’t! Why, they ain’t fifty people in the whole town, and one’s a three-legged dog, like I said.”
“Dave, I don’t believe you ever been to Paris, France. I believe you’re just trying to get me not to leave you.”
“Paris, France! Who the hell’s talking about Paris, France? I’m talking about Paris, Texas; that’s what I’m talking about.”
Dora rolled her eyes and said, “Hand me that bottle.”
“Who’s Old Judge Harris to you anyhow?” Dave asked.
“Just a lonely old widower who took a liking to me.”
“You were cheating on me with that old feller?”
“I’m in the whore business, Dave. It ain’t cheating, it’s just business.”
“It feels like you was cheating.”
“I’ve got to start packing.”
Dave became quieter and quieter as he drank and thought about Dora leaving. He was feeling as low and unhappy as he reckoned a man could feel.
“I should have known better than to give my heart to a whore,” Dave said. “But I guess you can’t help what you are any more than I can help what I am—a two-gun killer.”
Dora let such comments alone, knowing that Dave was bitterly disappointed.
“I got to go shoot somebody now, Dora.”
“Okay, Dave.” Dora no longer cared much who Dave shot or who he didn’t, even if it was Buffalo Bill he shot. She wouldn’t be around to care; she was going to Paris, France. She recalled what the judge had once told her about having money: “It changes you,” he said. He was right, she felt changed instead of shortchanged all the goddamn time.
“I think it’s Buffalo Bill I am going to go shoot.”
“Oh, Dave, I wish you wouldn’t shoot no more folks, Bill included, but if that’s what you’ve got your head set on doing, I won’t try and change it.”
“Well, I was going to shoot him because he has a nice hat and a high-stepping horse and a pretty silver saddle. But now I’m going to shoot him because you and him used to be lovers. I might shoot him twice I’m so damn mad.”
Dora started to offer Dave some friendly advice, but Dave waved his arm and said, “See you around, Dora. I hope you enjoy Paris, France, and have lots of laughs over there at my expense.”
Dora could hear Dave’s boots stomping all the way down the stairs.
“Well, so much for true love,” she said.
“Well, so much for true love,” Dave said as he stepped into the street, trying to remember if he had bought a horse yet or if he still needed to buy one.
The man at the livery said, “I’ve got your horse saddled and ready to go.”
“I owe you anything for him, do I?”
“No.”
“Why’s that horse only got one ear?”
“Like I said before, I think a cougar or som
ething chewed it off.”
Dave looked at the ear.
“You could be right,” he said.
“You ever hear of Buffalo Bill Cody?”
“Yes, sir,” the livery man said, confused because he’d had nearly the same conversation earlier with this funny feller.
“One of his men bought up all my stock, except for this one-eared horse, for the big hunt the Colonel is taking some rich folks on. Rich folks from back East.”
“Where they hunting, out near his place somewhere?”
“The Colonel’s man said they were hunting along the Dismal River, like I said before.”
“Which way is it?”
The man pointed toward the north.
“I think that’s the river I rode off a cliff into,” Dave said.
“Oh, you were the feller I heard about.”
“How much you want for that one-eared horse?”
The livery man shook his head.
“You already paid for him.”
“That’s good, then. See you around.”
“See you around,” the livery man said and watched Mysterious Dave ride off to the north in search of the Dismal River and Buffalo Bill and whatever else he was looking for.
I sure hope I don’t fall into that goddamn river again, Dave thought to himself. It’s bad enough I ain’t got true love no more. I hate fucking rich men and fellers named Buffalo Bill.
Dave’s fingers were cold and he put them in his pockets.
It had been a purely frustrating the last several days, all in all, what with being chased by Indians, falling into the river, almost getting shot in the brains, and having Dora leave him.
Once forked on the one-eared cayuse, he said to it rather roughly, “I don’t give a good goddamn if I ever see any more of this country once I leave it, and if you was smart, you’d not want to see any more of it either; why, look, something’s chewed your ear off.” Dave and his new-bought horse soon became just a speck on the landscape to the livery man’s eyes.
Chapter 22
White Eye felt plum in love. He watched Jane lasso a stump. All the dishes were washed and the food for the supper prepared, potatoes boiling in a kettle, a fat ham ready to go on the spit, apple pie for supper baked in a dutch oven. The air was cold but White Eye’s mood pleasant nonetheless. It had been a lot colder up in the Deadwood Gulch. Him and Yankee had shared a bedroll whilst panning for gold, had slept with their clothes and coats and hats on and near froze to death two or three times. Had woke up with their teeth chattering and looking at the stars and praying for day to break and a little sun to come out and warm them.
