by Sharon Ihle
Tubbs squinted. The last time he'd been in town, there'd been a small group of tepees set up on that spot, Utes in town to do a little trading. It was a good cover for robbing the bank, or so Billy Doolittle had foolishly thought. As they drew closer, Tubbs realized that this time it wasn't an Indian encampment at all, but a group of townsfolk crowded around a white wagon trimmed with bright red and blue paint. "It's nothing," he said. "Just one of those traveling medicine shows."
"No kidding?" Artemis whipped his head around. "Is it one of them real Indian medicine shows with doctors and magic elixirs and such? And what about music? I love music."
"I expect it is, kid, but it ain't none of our concern." Dismissing the entire subject, Tubbs concentrated on the reason they'd come to Durango in the first place. He decided to head straight to Tenth Street and the gambling halls—the place he would most likely run across Marshal Slater—and urged his mount into an easy lope, encouraging the kid to do the same.
Artemis hesitated, calling after him. "Hey, wait up a minute, would you? Can't we stop at the show for a little bit?"
Slowing his mount until the two were riding side by side again, Tubbs muttered, "Oh, hell, kid. We got work to do in this town. I don't have time for that kind of nonsense."
If he thought it would have done any good, Artemis would have dropped to his knees and kissed the man's boots. Instead, he implored, "Please, Tubbs. I've always wanted to go to a medicine show, but Pa never would take us—said he could brew all the tonic we'd ever need right there in his still. The one time I asked Billy to go, he just laughed at me."
Although Tubbs doubted the kid had intentionally mentioned his brother's cruel ways in order to get his sympathy, it did persuade him. "Oh, hell, why not."
Artemis let out a whoop, startling Big Red so badly, the sorrel almost dumped him.
"Remember what I said about that mouth of yours, kid." Tubbs had his hands full controlling his own mount. "We'll stop for ten minutes. No more."
A low fence surrounded the usually vacant lot, and as the pair dismounted and tied their horses to its top railing, Artemis apologized. "Sorry I shot off my mouth like that. I'm trying not to get so danged excited, really. It just drives Billy crazy when I get to hooting 'n' hollering."
Tubbs broke into a rare smile. "No problem, kid. Now get on up there and see what it is you just got to see." He checked his watch. "Don't forget—ten minutes."
"Aren't you going with me?"
"I'll be close by." Again he glanced at his watch. "Nine minutes and fifty seconds, kid. Don't waste it talking to me."
Without another word or even so much as a thank you, Artemis vaulted over the fence and joined the crowd. It didn't take him long to wriggle his wiry body past the farmers and women who were blocking his view, and in less than ten of those precious seconds, he had a spot at the head of the crowd. A tall skinny man was playing the banjo and singing "God Bless America," while a short woman with a cigar butt poking out of the corner of her mouth pounded on a tom-tom.
Artemis clapped along with the beat, swinging his hips to the rhythm. When the other members of the audience turned to stare at him, he grinned and exaggerated his movements as if he were a part of the entertainment.
Then the music abruptly stopped, leaving Artemis as a kind of one-man band, and an Indian princess stepped out through the back door of the wagon. Artemis froze in mid-clap, his hands held high as if in surrender when the woman came into view. She was without a doubt the most incredible and fascinating creature he'd ever seen. Forgetting to think his actions through, he stepped forward beyond the boundaries drawn for the crowd, and greeted her.
"Morning, ma'am," he said as he yanked his hat from his head and squashed it flat beneath his armpit. "You're just about the prettiest thing I ever did see."
Mariah was generally prepared for almost anything from her audience, for in the medicine-show business, anything could and did happen, but this grinning young man took her completely off guard. She glanced at Zack, who seemed to be as surprised as she, and then back at the young man. Before she could ask him to step back behind the boundary, he started talking again, this time fingering one of her braids as he spoke.
"Are you a real live Kickapoo Indian? I didn't think there was such a thing."
As Mariah tried to think of a way to ease the man back into the crowd, Cain looked up from his post at the head of the wagon and noticed her dilemma. He'd been scanning the audience in his role as Brother Law the Bouncer, looking for agitators who'd already stopped by the saloons for a belt of confidence, or self-righteous citizens thinking of discrediting the Penny troupe. When he saw the young man at Mariah's side and her clear discomfort in his presence, Cain started in her direction.
As he bulldozed his way through the crowd, liking the way he felt, the sense of authority that went with his new role, it occurred to Cain that the youth might be one of the ruffians who'd accosted Mariah the night before. Incensed by the idea, when he reached the young man, he grabbed him by the arm, pulling him up short, and said to Mariah, "Is this one of the little thieves who knocked you around last night?"
Stunned by the hint of Morgan Slater she saw in his eyes, as well as by his incorrect assumption, Mariah stuttered as she said, "N-no."
The twitter in Mariah's voice only served to confirm Cain's suspicions. She was frightened, and after what had happened to her, he supposed she had a right to be. His anger growing, Cain tightened his grip on the young man's arm. "You miserable little son of a bitch—what'd you do with the money you stole from her?"
Artemis turned white, and his heart began to beat double time. "I don't know what you're talking about, mister. I swear I don't."
Mariah pleaded with Cain. "Leave him be. He didn't do it."
But Cain's gaze didn't even flicker her way. "Take a good long look at him, princess. I think he did."
"Oh, please stop, mister," Artemis said. "I don't know what you're talking about. You got to let me go."
Every eye in the crowd was on them by now. Soon the audience would break up and leave, Mariah figured, or worse, the sheriff would intervene. There was nothing to do but tell the truth. She tugged on Cain's jacket, keeping her voice low but firm as she said, "Turn him loose! There was no robbery. I made it all up."
Cain loosened his grip, but kept hold of his captive as he turned to her. "You don't have to lie about this, Mariah. If he's—"
"I lied yesterday, not today. Now let him go. We're losing our audience."
Cain glanced around him, noticing the uneasy expressions on the women and the concern on the faces of their men. He released his hold, and the young man slipped and nearly fell in his haste to get away.
Eager to get past this and on with the show, Mariah faced Cain and said, "I know you have questions, but you'll have to let me explain later."
"Damn right I've got questions."
"And they deserve answers, but right now, we've got a show to do." She took a dark bottle of medicine from the large white buckskin pouch she carried. "You frightened that poor fellow half out of his mind, and we've got to do something to make it right. Take this to him and tell him we're sorry. If this doesn't satisfy him, tell him to see us after the show."
At the fringe of the crowd, Tubbs waited until he was sure the preacher's attention had been diverted. Then he approached Artemis, who was hunched over the fence, holding his belly as if it might explode at any moment. "What was that all about?" he asked, noticing that the man in the frock coat was on the move again. "For a minute there I thought you were about to get yourself arrested."
"Me too," Artemis said, taking short breaths, praying the cramps would ease up. "I don't know exactly what I done wrong. I swear I don't."
The man in the frock coat was heading in their direction. Tubbs put his face right against Artemis's. "Damn it, kid—maybe Billy's right and you are a dunce. You musta done something to bring this fellah down on us. What is he, anyway? Some kind of lawman?"
Artemis shrugged, st
ruggling against the urge to cry. He'd never meant to make such a mess of things in front of his hero. Couldn't he ever do anything right?
Cain approached then, offering his apologies. "Sorry if I shook you up, son. Are you all right?"
His gaze darting from the big stranger to Tubbs, Artemis straightened and rubbed his stomach. "I just got a little bellyache. Ah, that's why I was thinking of getting some medicine. That's all I wanted, mister. I didn't do nothing else but look to get some o' that tonic. I swear it's true."
Cain nodded. "I know it is. I thought you were someone else for a minute. I made a little mistake, so I'd like you to have this with our compliments." He offered the bottle of wizard oil, and then turned, acknowledging the other man. "I'm sure we can round one up for you too, if you'd like."
Tubbs had been listening to the man speak, wondering what it was about him that made his skin crawl, but until he faced him and saw the intensity in those brilliant green eyes, he hadn't known what it was. Now that he did, his blood ran cold.
"The kid ain't no friend of mine," Tubbs said as coolly as possible, fighting the urge to reach for his guns. "I saw him hanging over the railing and come by to see if he needed some help. You part of the medicine show?"
Cain offered his hand. "I'm Brother Law. I try to keep things smooth and peaceful-like while the show's playing." After shaking Tubbs's hand, he turned back to the young man. "I have to get back to work now. Just let me know if there's anything else I can do to make it up to you."
Feeling bolder, absolved of his unnamed crime, Artemis tugged his jeans up. "Now that you mention it, I would like to take a crack at that banjo, and maybe even beat on them drums a little bit. I love music."
There was something in the way the kid spoke, some little hint of naivete or simplicity of mind that didn't quite fit with his years, but Cain was too preoccupied by thoughts of what Mariah had confessed to sort it out. "I suppose if you're still around when the show's over, it'd be all right."
Artemis gulped down the urge to holler his joy. Though it was a struggle to remain calm, he said, "Thank you kindly, Brother Law. I just might do that."
Waiting until well after "Brother Law" had touched the flat brim of his hat and disappeared into the crowd, Tubbs motioned for Artemis to remain propped up against the fence. Then, keeping his voice low, he said, "You know who that was, kid?"
Artemis scratched his head, bouncing his cowlick as if it were on springs. "A preacher of some kind, I guess."
"If he's a preacher, I'm the sheriff of Durango." Tubbs held his index finger near his mouth, making sure Artemis understood the warning. "Keep your yap shut over this, kid, but he ain't even close to being a preacher—that's Morgan Slater, U.S. Marshal."
Artemis nearly fell backwards over the low fence.
Tubbs reached out and caught him. "Get a grip on yourself, kid, or I swear to God—I'll shoot you down right where you stand."
Artemis had no doubt that he'd do it, even though he was a kinder sort than Billy or the rest of the gang. So he took a deep breath and worked at collecting himself before he dared to speak again. "If he's, you know, who you say he is, then why's he dressed up like a preacher-man?"
"Because he's one clever son of a bitch, that's why, and keep your voice down." Tubbs fingered the grip on one of his pistols. "Who's gonna be looking for a marshal traveling with a medicine show? Why, he can keep watch on the whole damn town in that disguise and get the drop on the lot of us before we even know what hits us."
Artemis shuddered at the thought. "Then let's get the hell out of here!"
Still trying to keep a low profile, Tubbs resisted the urge to bury his fist in Artemis's gut. "Our job, kid, is to find Slater and then take him out. Remember?" At Artemis's nod, he continued. "Well, we've found him. Now we have to work up a plan to take him out. Are you with me?"
Afraid of being left out just as he was let in, Artemis nodded. "I like doing my job, Tubbs, I swear I do. I just got to know one thing."
"What?" Tubbs asked.
"Just exactly what does it mean when you fellahs say we got to 'take him out'?"
* * *
As the show drew to a close, Mariah left the few stragglers to Oda, who only really enjoyed selling the medicines and collecting the money, and then turned her attention to the other side of the wagon. Zack and Cain were talking with the young man who'd put her in such a sensitive situation. Because of him, she'd had to tell Cain at least part of the truth about her deception yesterday. Sooner or later, he'd want to know the rest, and since she had yet to come up with a good enough explanation, she could only hope he would wait until later to interrogate her.
As it was, Mariah could barely think past his parting words of yesterday. Cain was attracted to her and he hadn't even been medicated into feeling that way.
The knowledge that her potion had nothing to do with his ardor boggled her mind, but what it did to her body was twice as calamitous. And she loved the feeling. How could she keep him feeling that way about her? As long as he thought of himself as her cousin, he'd never come to her that way again, never bestow one of those hot kisses on her. She would have to think of something, anything, to keep him with the show a little while longer. Anything, of course, but tell him who he was. If she did that, Cain would be gone in a flash, and she'd probably wind up in jail.
As she considered a way to explain herself, Mariah became aware of banjo music in the background, not the hesitant tunes usually plunked out by Zack's less- han-skillful fingers, but a rousing—and rather perfectly executed—rendition of "Oh, Susanna." As she glanced toward the men to see who was playing, she noticed that Cain was heading her way. Time was up.
"There you are," he said as he reached her. "Now what was it you were trying to tell me earlier? You weren't robbed after all?"
Mariah automatically began to back away, rounding the corner of the wagon toward the safety of her mother.
"Come on, Mariah. No more lies," he demanded, following her. "I've a right to know what happened and why. Out with it."
Feeling trapped, she glanced behind her. Oda was selling Zachariah's Special Spring Tonic to a couple of farmers, and behind them, a long line had formed. The fact that customers needed her attention bought Mariah a little more time to come up with a story.
"All right. We'll talk," she said, her voice low, secretive. "You deserve to hear the truth, but not here, and not around these folks. I'm sure I don't have to tell you why."
Although he hated the idea of being put off again, Cain agreed. "When and where?"
"How about after supper, in my room at the hotel? That way I won't have to go sneaking up and down the hallways."
Again Cain agreed. "I'll be there—but this time, princess, you'd better be prepared to tell the truth. All of it."
Chapter 8
It was a good thing Artemis had worn his pullover-style shirt, because otherwise he'd have busted his buttons and left a trail of them all the way down Main Avenue. Not only was he early for his meeting with Tubbs, but he'd secured a position with the medicine show as planned. Two jobs done right in one day! Glory be, was there no end to all this newfound happiness?
Repeating his instructions to himself as he entered the area of Durango known as "poverty flats," he said to himself, "Down Tenth to the first saloon on the right past the railroad tracks." Sure that he'd found his destination, Artemis glanced up at the nameplate nailed to the wooden building. Although it listed severely, looking as if it might come loose and splash into the mud puddle in front of the threshold of the establishment, he was able to match the letters to the ones Tubbs had written down for him. Fat Alice's Saloon and Entertainment Palace.
Enormously pleased with himself, Artemis stepped inside the saloon and scanned the tables for his "partner." The place was dingy and dusty, but practically deserted, making it easy for him to find Tubbs. He was seated, his back to the wall, at a table in the far corner where lighting was almost nonexistent. Filled with pride to think that he'd finally
gotten the hang of this outlaw business, Artemis marched over to the table, dragged out a chair across from his best friend, and plopped down on it.
Eyeing the liquor bottle just inches from Tubbs's left hand, Artemis puffed up his chest and said, "Give me a shot of that there whiskey, would you?"
"I'd sooner give you a pop in the mouth, kid. You have trouble controlling yourself sober. Damned if I'm going to turn you loose with a bellyful of rotgut."
His lungs deflating along with his sense of importance, Artemis said in a small voice, "A sarsaparilla'd be just fine."
"In a little while, kid. First tell me how it went with the show—and keep your voice down."
Artemis perked up some at that. "It went great." At Tubbs's glare, he lowered his voice to a whisper. "The old man, Zack his name is, said I could play banjo in the show as long as I didn't expect much by way of pay. I said, no, I just like playing music anywheres I get the chance, and that my pa used to let me play the mouth organ or the spoons, and sometimes even the fiddle when we—"
"Get to the point, kid."
"Sure, Tubbs. Point is, I did like you said. Told 'em my name is Artemis, just plain old Artemis with no other name behind it, and they didn't even care about that. Zack says I'm hired for as long as the show's in Durango and maybe even longer, when they go all the way to Denver."
"What'd I say about whispering." Tubbs practically shouted. "And just for the record—we don't give a stinking damn about your new job past Durango. Understand?"
"Sure." As eager to please as ever, Artemis dropped into his usual subservient manner. "I didn't mean to get you all upset, Tubbs. I just wanted you to know what a good job I did of fooling them medicine- show people."
"I'm more interested in the job you did fooling Slater. How'd he take on about you joining the show?"
Artemis shrugged. "Didn't hardly talk to him at all. I guess he don't mind a bit." Knowing now that he and Tubbs had been sent to Durango for the express purpose of killing the marshal, he fought a shudder as he said, "You ain't expecting me to go taking him out, are you?"
