Earthbound

by Adam Lewinson

  It was also, despite the adequate fire, far too cold. Pace in his sleeping bag seemed all right more or less. But I was shivering. After an hour or two, I dunno, maybe I dozed off.

  In the morning, after maybe a couple hours sleep, the lobby warmed up a bit with the sun. The first thing I noticed was the smell of shit. “Your horse shit on the floor,” I said.

  “Yours too,” Pace replied.

  “Smells like shit.”

  Wasn’t much more to say than that. We both got up and started packing our supplies. When it was time to leave, I saw Pace staring at the shoulder bags filled with gold coins. “We need to hide these somewhere,” he said.

  “Don’t we take it with us? Spend some of it?”

  “Some, sure, we should take a little. But we should hide the rest.”

  I nodded. Didn’t think it was great for Charon to be carrying that much weight anyway, especially if we had to run again. But it did mean we were committing to returning to the Old City at some point. I guess that was inevitable. Pace and I found a good hiding place for the gold. More on that later.

  When we were done we mounted up.

  “Where to?” I asked. I was done making suggestions. It was Pace’s turn.

  “Augusta. About sixty miles west.”

  So long as Augusta had whiskey for me and feed for Charon, that suited me fine.

  “What do we do when we get there? Just live there?”

  Pace was quiet for a moment. That meant he was thinking. “And tell them what – that we’re wanted men back in Great Falls?”

  “We’ll give fake names.”

  “Which will work until someone from Great Falls inevitably comes down to trade. And what would we do then? Besides, I can assure you that the Great Plains Holding Company alerted all of the other settlements about us. I can’t imagine we’ll get much of a friendly reception. Might even have more of those robots looking for us. We’re going to have to get in and out pretty quick, and move on from there.”

  We had to cross the Missouri again, which would prove to be tricky. The old maps said there’s a bridge on 1st Ave. It only took a few minutes to find that road, and then we headed west. The road was in poor shape, and then we hit a thick forest that didn’t look penetrable. So we rode around the perimeter until we got back to the road. And by that point, we saw the bridge. Or what was left of the bridge. It’s likely the steel supports had corroded, and it was usually so cold that the connection points probably froze up. A perfect situation for a bridge to come straight down.

  Route 87, back the way we came, was an option, but one of the Nuggets was likely watching that bridge just in case we were stupid enough to cross it again. “Guess we need to go across at route 15,” I grumbled, not happy with that idea. There was a working bridge across the river on route 15 to the south. This was one of the few roads that did get some small amount of use, as it was considered the only safe way to travel between Augusta and Great Falls, and also further south to Helena. Course if there was any sort of posse on the lookout for us this was the road they’d take.

  Fortunately Pace came up with a better idea.

  “There’s supposed to be some railroad tracks around here. I think I saw on the map they used to cross the Missouri.”

  We doubled back heading north and this time stayed as close as we could to the river’s edge. We passed by what looked like a few hotels. There’s probably still some comfortable linens in there if we dared go inside the structure. Then we passed what looked like an old restaurant. Pace read the sign. “Applebee’s.” Not sure who or what Applebee was, but it sure would have been nice if they were still open for business.

  Finally we saw a railway bridge jutting out to the west across the Missouri. It seemed to be in decent shape, much like the railway bridge by Rainbow Falls. They must have been built better, I dunno. Anyway, it looked safe enough and, without any other good options, we risked it. The bridge seemed a little creaky, but we managed to cross safely. We rode west until we connected to route 15 well past that bridge. But the only way you’d know there was a road there was because forests had sprung up on either side, leaving a pretty big width of moss with the occasional chunk of concrete sticking out.

  Now that we were on route 15 we needed to stay alert. If we were gonna run into anyone we didn’t want to run into, this would be the road.

  When we reached a fork in the road, we actually just followed the road signs pointing us toward Augusta. We rode silently for a while. I think we were both weary and in need of a good meal. But as the air started to warm up a bit, Pace’s mood brightened. Soon he was his usual conversationalist again.

  “What’s your horse’s name?” he asked.

  “Charon.”

  “Where’d you come up with that name?”

  “Greek mythology. Something Becca used to read to me about. Charon was the boatman in Hades who would take newly dead souls across the river Styx into hell – if you paid him a gold coin. Seemed fitting. Cause wherever Charon takes me, it feels like hell.”

  “A gold coin, eh?” Pace reached into his pocket and tossed me a coin. I caught it and pretended to stare at it as if I was checking its authenticity.

  “Good enough. I’ll take you across. So what’s your horse’s name?”

  “I don’t know.” I stared at Pace with surprise. “I never thought of a name. Didn’t think it was important.”

  “Come on,” I scolded. “He’s not just a stupid animal. He’s your companion. He deserves to have a name. And a good one.”

  Pace thought for a minute. “You’re right. I’ll have to think of one.” After a few minutes Pace started rattling off some names. “Peter. Montana. George Washington. Lewis. Clark. I know – I can call him Lewis Clark!”

  “That’s a stupid name.”

  “Why?”

  “Cause you’re just taking those two guys’ first names and putting them together.”

  “That’s their last names. Meriwether Lewis and William Clark.”

  “Oh who gives an eff. Why the eff are they important anyway?”

  “Are you kidding? Do you know how significant Lewis and Clark are to this region?”

  “Why, cause they have some kind of stupid museum along the Missouri? They’re dead. They don’t mean anything.”

  “They were the first to explore this region! They discovered the Five Falls!”

  “You mean after the native Indians discovered them? I’m not that impressed.” Okay, I did pay attention just a little in history class when it interested me. I did like that those Lewis and Clark guys ran around with some hot Indian girl. Saca-whatever-her-name-is.

  “Okay, you win,” Pace laughed, not sore at all about caving in to my argument. “Lewis and Clark were worthless sacks of shit.”

  We rode for a bit – me on Charon and Pace on “Lewis Clark.” As I looked around, I was just in awe of what I was seeing. Not that it looked very different that what I was accustomed to. It looked almost exactly the same. But it was just that I’d never been that far west before. Everything I saw was a discovery. And it would only be new once.

  Aside from hoofbeats, some bird calls and the occasional howl of the wind, it was silence. I liked it. Until it was interrupted by Pace again.

  “How come you always wear a black hat?”

  Pace was right, I always chose to wear a black cowboy hat from the time I had enough money to buy my own. It was inspired, probably not the way she intended, by Becca. In addition to stories, sometimes she’d read to me from the Bible. Never understood much of a word of it but it seemed to have some significance for her. I never forgot one passage. I made her read it over and over again. Behold a pale horse, and his name that sat upon it was Death, and hell followed with him. That felt like me. And black always felt like the color of death. So it seemed fitting that I wear as much black as I could.

  Charon wasn’t a pale horse though. He was as black as my hat. Way cooler than a pasty pale horse. Like “Lewis Clark.” Stupid name.


  “I just like black,” I finally replied. I didn’t feel like going into the whole story.

  “I like white myself,” Pace said. I looked over and sure enough his hat was white. Never paid it much mind. “It’s hard to keep it clean, of course. It shows off dirt. I used to just buy new ones all the time. Maybe I will again. You know, white hats are supposed to signify the good guys, and black hats are supposed to be for the bad guys.”

  “Sounds about right. Except we’re both bank robbers you know. Maybe you should buy a black hat.”

  Pace thought about that for a second. “Want to switch? At least I can see how a black hat feels.”

  We swapped. He flopped my big hat over his small head, and the brim went past his eyebrows. I tried his on. Had to hold it with one hand. There was no way it was ever gonna fit.

  Pace seemed disappointed. He took off my hat and we swapped again. “I don’t think I like black,” he decided.

  “Could just be the size.”

  “Could be.”

  “You know what they say about hat size. It mirrors the size of your-“

  “-that’s bullshit,” he interrupted hurriedly.

  “Getting a little testy there, huh?”

  “I’m perfectly well endowed. Just ask pretty much any girl you ever met.”

  I laughed. I know he’s not much for lying, but it sure sounded like he was exaggerating. As for me? I have an effing anaconda down there, if you really want to know.

  I let him suffer in the silence for a moment before I finally spoke again. “I don’t think you’re meant to wear a black hat. Guess that means your bank robbing days are over.”

  “That would be… boring.”

  A bird caught my attention flying high above. A bald eagle. Such a powerful bird.

  “So you think Lewis Clark is a stupid name?” Pace asked. I nodded. “Aw hell, you’re right. You know, the Blackfoot Indians were the ones who first settled around here, as far as I know. The Blackfoot deserve some respect. They actually got into a fight with Lewis and Clark. Didn’t work out too well for them, I think. I’ll call my horse Blackfoot. Work for you?”

  I glanced down at his horse’s hooves. “He’s white.”

  “Aw hell. You don’t have to be so literal.”

  Soon, we started to see the Augusta settlement on the horizon. Abutted up against a mountain range, it seemed like we reached the edge of the world.

  Augusta was known for its farming, and the terrain did seem hospitable. Several reservoirs helped provide them with plenty of water. Great Falls had the edge on fishing and cattle, no doubt about that, but Augusta always had better crops. When our trading contingent returned with their fresh corn and grain, it was always a good day.

  As we could see the faint outlines of Augusta’s small buildings and houses, Pace quizzed me about our story. I got it. It was pretty brilliant really. Pace can have brilliant plans when he put his mind to it. And if we were lucky, no one would suspect a thing.

  We dismounted so we could put the finishing touches on his plan.

  “Okay,” I said gamely. “The jaw’s good, right here. Try to draw blood.” I stuck out my chin and waited for the blow. I knew it wouldn’t hurt too much. And when Pace’s fist connected, it didn’t hurt at all. And no blood. “Come on! You gotta make this look good!”

  “I’m trying!” Pace insisted. He got this determined look on his face and connected with my lip. Okay, good enough, the lip would swell up, maybe get a little purple, maybe show a little blood. Then I leaned down and rubbed dirt over my clothes. They were already dirty so I didn’t need to do much to be convincing.

  “Your turn,” I said. “Where do you want it?”

  Pace kind of turned pale. It was his plan, but I guess he didn’t really think about how getting punched in the face was a part of it. “How about my left arm?”

  “That’s not gonna show a bruise. It’s gotta be somewhere they can see it. Less you want me to break it and we can put it in a sling.” Pace shook his head furiously. “I could shoot you if you want.”

  “Don’t even joke about it!”

  “Okay, then maybe I should punch you right here where it’ll show.” I pointed to a prime spot on his cheek. He backed away and put his arms up.

  “That doesn’t work for me. Can’t we do something else?”

  “Fine,” I said. I knew he’d chicken out of that part anyway. Instead I took his precious white hat off his head and threw it into the dirt. Then I stomped on it and made sure it was filthy.

  Pace protested. “Hey! I love that hat!”

  “You still get to wear it.” I plopped it back on his head. Then I helped him smear dirt over the rest of his clothes. Then I found some mud and caked it on his cheeks.

  “There!” Pace announced proudly. “Do I look like I was in a fight?”

  “Not really but good enough.”

  We remounted and continued toward Augusta.

  “You don’t think they have robots in Augusta do you?” I asked.

  “I doubt it. But I didn’t think they had robots in Great Falls either.” Pace’s words were not comforting. But then he changed the subject. “I’ve got another name. Flashbound.”

  “What’s it mean?”

  “I dunno. My horse is fast, so he can get where he’s going in a flash.”

  Charon was faster, I knew that, but no doubt the name was good. And it stuck.

  6.

  “Oh my goodness! What happened to you boys?”

  A kindly middle-aged woman rushed over to our horses, and several other townsfolk followed. Pace was slumped over his horse, pretending like he was on his death bed or something. Pretty good acting job, I gotta say. Me, I’m not one for looking weak. So instead I just sat upright, letting the dirt and my swollen lip tell the story for me. I held onto Flashbound’s reins, giving the impression that Pace was too injured to guide his horse. What an eyesore we two were.

  Some of the Augusta men pulled Pace off of Flashbound and laid him on the ground. A few of the girls gave him aid, holding his head and pouring water into his mouth. His eyes opened slightly. I knew what he was doing. He was getting a look at these girls to see if any were attractive. One no doubt was. So he winced in pain and started moaning. Like I said. Pretty good acting job.

  “What happened?” one of the Augusta men asked me.

  “We’re the trading delegation from Great Falls. We got ambushed maybe thirty miles back. They beat us up pretty bad. Took our wagon. Everything we were gonna trade – gone.”

  The kindly citizens of Augusta stared at one another. Nothing like that had ever happened before.

  Another Augusta man sauntered up. He wore a shiny badge on the lapel of his jacket. As we’d soon learn, he was the lawman in town. “Were they armed?” he asked with authority.

  “Yup,” I replied. “Shot at us but fortunately they didn’t connect.”

  Pace sputtered, pretending like it was a struggle to speak. “I think they didn’t kill us on purpose. They wanted us to make it here so you’d know who did it.”

  The lawman kneeled down beside Pace, and the girls made room for him. “Who did this, son?”

  Pace grabbed hold of the lawman’s lapels for dramatic effect. “Did you hear of the two men who robbed the bank in Great Falls?”

  “I sure did. But I heard they were just a couple of troublemakers. Not the type to do this.”

  “No! They sure are. And they’re huge! The size of bears almost!” Pace was having his fun creating his own legend. “You’re the lawman around here, right? You’ve got to send a posse! You’ve got to stop them-” And then, again for dramatic effect, Pace “fainted.”

  I talked to the lawman at length, giving him misleadingly detailed descriptions of our ambushers. I also learned that the lawman knew a fair amount already. He knew our names, had pretty vague descriptions, and had been told we were likely heading south toward Helena. Of course, we’d just placed ourselves between Augusta and Great Falls, so I made a point of saying t
hat our ambushers headed north toward Conrad with our supplies. The lawman bought it all, including the idea of collecting a posse. He even asked me if I wanted to go along, since I seemed able bodied. But I declined, only so that I could see to the welfare and benefit of my friend.

  I did watch the lawman ride off, along with about eight other rifle-toting men. And, in the process, I watched as the only man likely to figure us out left town. We’d have several days, maybe a week before they’d get back. And we’d likely be long gone too, just in case they stopped at Great Falls and got a better detailed description of us – and also found out that they hadn’t sent out a trade delegation over the past few weeks.

  I walked over to the house where Pace was being cared for. I removed my hat and wiped horse shit off my boots respectfully before I entered. It was a comfortable house, kept warm with a nice fire. The husband and wife whose house it was introduced themselves to me.

  “I’m Bill Norris and this is my wife Eleanor.” We shook hands.

  “My name’s Monroe,” I said with conviction. “James Monroe.”

  “Ah, named after the U.S. President I see!”

  I silently cursed out Pace. He gave me a fake name after a President. How was I supposed to know that?

  Mr. Norris announced that he had an extra room where Pace and I could stay for a few nights until he was back up on his feet. They’d had a son before and that room had been empty for some time. I followed them into that room, where Pace was lying on the bed in “agony.” They had a daughter who sat next to the bed, dabbing away at the dirt on his face with a cloth. She was the same good looking girl who attended to Pace’s injuries when we arrived. Coincidence? Perhaps not. This girl was not spoken for, which was surprising given her beauty. Something I noticed was there were not as many eligible young men in Augusta as there were in Great Falls. Men had their pick. The other girls in town must’ve been something if this beautiful girl was without a husband. That could be a very good thing if we settled down in Augusta. That is, if we even could.