Dakota Trail

by David R Lewis

  “That new horse a your’n ain’t exactly no slouch, is he?”

  “He gits around purty good,” Homer said. “I’ve knowed Willie for several years now, an’ he still kindly sets me back some from how fast he is. Did you turn him loose after you took off?”

  “Almost,” I said. “He had some more in him, but I save that kinda runnin’ from him as much as I can. Willie is gittin’ a little age on him, an’ I doan want him to hurt hisself just foolin’ around. It vexes him when I won’t give in an’ turn him loose, but I figger if he won’t take no care a hisself, it is up to me to watch out for him. He’s comin’ thirteen or fourteen years old, I speck. I’m thinkin’ about tryin’ to git in touch with Johnny Sweetgrass to see if’n he might be able to git me one a them Nez Perce Appaloosas, trained an’ ready to go, in another four or five years. That way, I’d have a horse that ain’t as fast as Willie is now, but could just go on for miles an’ miles. I speck Willie’d be a good match for ol’ Bill. The boy would be ten or eleven years old by then an’ ready for a good horse. Willie has knowed him for Bill’s whole life. He’d take some care of the boy, I speck.”

  “Then what?” Homer asked me, “turn Arliss the Mule over to Miss Melody?”

  That set me to grinnin’.

  “I reckon that’d be more up to her momma than it would be for me. She’s fair protective a little Melody. Speakin’ a that, how’s Miss Marian doin’?”

  “She’s just finer than frog fur,” Homer said. “Now an’ then when she sees me, she gits to wavin’ her arms an’ kickin’ her feet a little bit. She seems to like me carryin’ her around. I ain’t been associated with babies much, an’ her momma keeps a fair strong eye on me while I’m fussin’ with her.”

  “She an’ my girl is near the same age. Once they git some older we could set both of ‘em on Arliss the Mule an’ let him walk ‘em around the place. I believe he’d be some careful with ‘em.”

  “Damn right he would, if he knowed what was good for him. I reckon Marian’s mother would be right there beside ‘em with a handgun pointed in that little mule’s left ear. She’s some protective.”

  In my head come a picture a them babies settin’ on Arliss the Mule while Miz Suzy kept a revolver poked in his ear. It tickled me quite a bit.

  I speck we spent near two hours just ridin’ around with no particular thought a where we was afore we headed back toward town. We come in from the northeast side, took to a brick road a ways, an’ run across a big ol’ house settin’ back from the road a little piece on a low rise. It was two an’ a half stories an’ near as big as the house that ol’ boy by the name a Treadstone built out near Royce Taylor’s place. They was a covered porch what run across the front a the house, with a couple a swings hung from chains on it. It was a light green in color with windas on both floors trimmed in dark brown. They was a sign about halfway between the place an’ the road that read “The Jervis Home.”

  Behind it a little bit an’ off to the left side of the house was a stable that looked good for about ten or twelve horses. Several acres back a that was fenced in pasture. They was a gravel lane comin’ from the stable out to the road with rails to tie horses near the house, an’ a walkway made outa cut stone from the porch out to the street.

  “Damn,” Homer said. “That place is somethin’, ain’t it? Durn near as big as that Calico Cattle Company mansion was, but not as fancy. Looks like somebody actually built it to live in instead a just show off.”

  “You think you, yer bride, an’ yer baby could find enough space in a place like that to git some comfortable?”

  “Hell, boy,” Homer grunted, “I’d have to hang a bell around Suzy’s neck to keep some track of her, an’ I’d have to put up signs just so I’d know where I was an’ if I was headin’ to where I wanted ta go.”

  We set there for a spell lookin’ the place over an’ restin’ the horses some. Purty soon, a black fella come out onto the porch an’ studied on us a little bit. He looked to be near six an’ a half feet tall or so, was terrible broad in the shoulders an’ such, an’ was dressed in a dark gray suit a clothes with a white shirt an’ a string tie. After he looked us over to his satisfaction, he got offa the porch an’ come walkin’ down the path to where we was.

  “Lord God, Homer,” I said, “should we run?”

  “Too late,” Homer said. “Wouldn’t make no more sense that tryin’ to run from a thunderstorm, anyways. I just hope he doan kill the horses, too.”

  We set there an’ watched as he come to us. They was a bulge under the left side a his jacket. He stopped about fifteen feet away an’ spoke up.

  “Good morning, gentlemen,” he said, “my name is Carlton. May I inquire if you two have business here at the Jervis House?”

  “Nossir, we don’t,” I said. “Our horses has been stalled up for a spell. We was just goin’ for a ride to keep ‘em fettle an’ run across this place. Me an’ my pard stopped to admire it some.”

  He smiled.

  “You men are certainly not the first,” he said.

  “I’m sorry if we disturbed ya,” Homer said. “That warn’t our intent.”

  “Think nothing of it,” he said. “Happens all the time.”

  “We’re not here to cause nobody any inconvenience or be a bother,” Homer tolt him. “We’ll be on our way.”

  “Have a pleasant day,” that fella said, an’ turned away to walk back toward the house.

  Me an Homer reined away an’ went on a little bit afore I spoke up.

  “Merciful Jesus,” I said. “I have seen outhouses smaller than that fella. I’d hate it if we had ta tangle with him, you not packin’ yer Sharps an’ all.”

  “I ain’t terrible sure my Sharps woulda done much more than just make him mad,” Homer said. “That ol’ boy could go huntin’ bufflers with a fly swatter. Godamighty!”

  “I’m glad he was friendly. If’n he’d a snarled at us or waved his arms, I mighta lost control an’ soiled myself.”

  That hit Homer sideways.

  “Tell me the truth, boy,” he said. “Was ya scairt?”

  “I musta been,” I tolt him. “The seat a my saddle is some damp.”

  Homer come to grinning quite a bit an’ set his horse on a short lope.

  Me an’ Willie follerd along.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  We didn’t go back into town very far, but rode out to where that electrical place was an’ watched the water flow an’ such for a spell, then follerd the water a ways until we was plumb out past the edge of the town. There was a terrible lot a things to look at, an’ time kindly got away from us. All of a sudden like, both of us remembered that it was some late in the day an’ we was hungry. We headed back into town an’ come across a little spot by the name a Bell’s Café. They was several horses an’ a buggy at the rail out front, so we tied our horses an’ went in.

  Hangin’ about a step inside the door an’ just a couple a feet above our heads was a brass bell, durn near big enough to be in a church belfry. Hangin’ down from the clapper was a leather strap with the words “ring me” burnt into it. I looked at Homer, an’ he looked at me.

  “Well?” he said.

  I grabbed that strap an’ banged the clapper right smart. That bell boomed quite a bit louder than I figgerd it would an’ sorta made my teeth buzz together some. About half of the folks in the room yelled “Bell!” all together, then laughed a little bit afore they went back to they food. Homer an’ me stood there for a second or two, grinnin’ at each other, then went to a little table on the side near the front winda an’ took a set. Purty soon a lady in a blue dress with a white apron come over an’ smiled at us. She looked to be about forty years old an’ was fair handsome.

  “Howdy boys,” she said. “Welcome to my place. I’m Bell Harper.”

  “Good to meetcha, M’am,” Homer said. “After my pard here rung that bell at the front door I had no idea what was goin’ on. But now, I think it might be gittin’ some clear to me. My name is Homer
Poteet an’ this here is Ruben Beeler.”

  “My pleasure, M’am,” I tolt her.

  “You fellas aren’t from around here are you?”

  “No M’am, we ain’t,” I said. “We’re just in town for a few days.”

  “You’d be the boys that are lookin’ into Jimmy Jacklin’s disappearance, I bet.”

  “You’d win yer wager,” Homer said. “You knowed Jimmy, did ya?”

  “He’d been in here a few times,” she said. “Seemed like a fine young man. You believe he’s alive?”

  “Tell the truth,” Homer went on, “I kindly doubt it, M’am. His horse was found, but not a trace a Jimmy.”

  “That’s just nothin’ but a terrible shame,” Miz Bell said, “but, unless I miss my guess, you boys didn’t come in here to tell sad stories. You came to eat. Today’s special is thin sliced roast beef with mashed potatoes, gravy, green beans, and fresh rolls. Coffee is free with the meal, and our desert for the day is sweet apple pie.”

  “That sounds terrible good to me, M’am,” I said. “An’ I am some partial to apple pie with lots a sugar.”

  “That’s fine with me too, Miz Bell,” Homer tolt her.

  “Good,” she said. “Comin’ up in about ten minutes. By the way, Ruben, nobody rings the bell when they leave.”

  “Yes M’am,” I said.

  She smiled some big at me, give me a couple a pats on the shoulder, an’ went on her way. Homer shook his head, an’ grinned quite a bit.

  “What?” I asked him.

  “I swear,” Homer said, “I have rid with you for a spell now, an’ I know yer word is good, yer mettle is stout, an’ yer dedication to Miss Harmony is true. I reckon a lot a that must git through to women.”

  “What in the hell are you jawin’ about?” I asked him.

  “You are a rare find for the ladies, boy. From regular women to whores, from Injun squaws to waitresses, from business ladies to saloon gals, most females a durn near any age that meet you kindly wanna take you home with ‘em for a spell. That way they could fix ya a nice supper an’, if they had their way, mebbe a good breakfast, too.”

  I felt my ears git warm.

  “Homer, you have knowed me long enough to understand that Harmony is the woman for my whole life.”

  “I know it, Rube. It sticks out all over ya. But ya see, for the ladies that just adds to the challenge,” Homer said. “Seems like a helluva burden on ya, if ya ask me.”

  Our coffee come then. I was fair pleased to see Homer gittin’ somethin’ other than his opinion a my appeal to the ladies to occupy his mouth.

  That supper was right good. The roast beef was as tender as it could be, an’ the apple pie was plumb full a cinnamon an’ sugar. Miz Bell had just come by with the coffee pot when that big bell went off with four or five heavy clangs. Miz Bell looked that way an give a little jerk.

  “Oh, damn,” she said. “It’s Harvey Cox. I thought I was finally free of him.”

  “He some kinda threat to ya, is he M’am?” Homer asked her.

  “Harvey and me kept company for a while about a year ago. I ended the relationship, but Harvey didn’t. He came in here four or five times a week for a spell, yellin’ and raisin’ hell and I’d have to run him off. He’s turned some heavy toward the bottle these days. My customers don’t want to deal with nothin’ like that. I thought he’d finally given up, but I guess not. He’s probably got a fair snoot full.”

  “He packin’?” Homer asked.

  “Sometimes he carries a little pistol under his coat. He’s left handed.”

  “You got the door, Homer,” I said, gittin’ to my feet.

  He grinned at me.

  “Yessir, Boss,” he said, an’ started up that way.

  I walked up toward where that ol’ boy was standin’ near the entrance. He noticed me comin’ his way, puffed up some, an’ laid hard eyes on me. He was about my height, but heavier, an’ swayin’ some from side to side. I smiled at him.

  “Harvey Cox,” I said, stickin’ out my hand to shake with him. “You ol’ sonofagun! I ain’t seen you since Plato was a pup. How the hell are ya?”

  He looked some confused but done what I expected him to an’ put his hand out to shake with me. I grabbed his wrist, turned him around, an’ pushed that hand up putry high on his back while I got my left elbow around his neck. I spoke up about a inch from his right ear.

  “I’m a federal marshal, Harvey. You reach for a gun, an’ I’ll break yer goddamned arm. You understand me do ya?”

  “Lemme go,” he said, jerkin’ around an’ such.

  I raised his arm some an’ tightened my elbow around his throat.

  “You understand me now?”

  He couldn’t answer with nothin’ but a squeak, but he did nod his head some. I walked him toward the door like that, an’ Homer held it open for me. He was grinnin’ like a possum.

  Out on the boardwalk, Homer patted him down. He didn’t have no a gun or nothin’. I turned him loose, an’ he started weavin’ around some an’ commenced to cry a little bit.

  “I love her,” he groaned.

  “No ya don’t,” I tolt him. “If ya did, you wodden bother her. She don’t want you comin’ in her place, drunk an’ disorderly, an’ runnin’ off her customers. You doan love her or you’d behave yerself. She don’t want nothin’ to do with you no more, Harvey, an’ you ain’t got no bidness bustin’ into her place like ya done. You got someplace to stay, do ya?”

  “I got a shack outside a town a ways,” he said, wipin’ at his eyes.

  “Here’s yer choice; go home or go to jail. You decide.”

  “I’ll go on home,” he said, tears runnin’ down his face.

  He shrunk some. It was kindly like I let the air outa him or somethin’.

  “Alright,” I said. “You show back up here today or tonight, an’ I’ll find ya. You’ll need a doctor. You hear me?”

  “Yessir,” he said. “I’ll go home.”

  “Git,” I said, an’ he did, kindly on the wobble. Homer looked at me.

  “My hero,” he said, grinnin’ quite a bit.

  I ignored him an’ went back inside. Miz Bell was terrible grateful, wodden charge us for our meals, tolt me how glad she was we done for her like we did, an’ patted me on the arm a bit. Back out on the boardwalk, Homer was still grinnin’.

  “If’n I wanted to hang around with a possum, you crippled ol’ bastard, I’d go an’ git one outa the woods,” I said.

  “You know what Marion Daniels would say about now, doncha?” Homer asked me.

  “What?”

  “Ol’ Ruben,” he said, an’ walked off toward where we left the horses.

  I follerd along, smilin’ a little bit.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  It was gittin’ along toward suppertime by the time we left our horses back at the livery, but neither one of us was terrible hungry after our late dinner at Miz Bell’s place so we headed back over to Rafferty’s roomin’ house. I was some concerned about Homer havin’ to walk so far an’ all, but I didn’t say nothin’ about it. He seemed to be steppin’ out fair smart.

  Marion was settin’ on the front porch in a rockin’ chair when we got there. We both took a set an’ watched the street for a spell afore he spoke up.

  “Where ya been?” he asked us.

  “All around town,” Homer said. “We run a feller off that was raisin hell an’ misbehavin’ over at a little eatin’ place called Bell’s Café. We seen the site on the river where they make that there electricity an’ such. Then we run across a nigra feller over at a two and a half story house that’s kindly fancy. He come out to see what our bidness was ‘cause we had stopped out in front an’ was lookin’ the place over. He was a big ol’ boy by the name a Carlton. Ol’ Rube here took one look at him, fell off his horse, an’ started to beg for mercy. It was a terrible sad thing to see him floppin’ around on the ground like he was. I’m glad you warn’t there, Marion. I know how you feel about the boy an’ how much
his failures weigh on ya.”

  “I still ain’t over it,” I said, shiverin’ a little bit an’ lookin’ sorta frail. “I think it was the butcher knife he was carryin’ in his teeth that put me off the most. That an’ the fact that he was about two hunnerd pounds bigger than Willie. I betcha he leaves tracks on solid rock.”

  Marion come to grinnin’ quite a bit. The three of us set there for a spell with nobody sayin’ much. Sometimes conversatin’ among friends just ain’t necessary.

  Mister Rafferty come out after a while with coffee for us, an’ we set there drinkin’ an’ watchin’ the sky cloud up a little bit.

  “Might rain,” Homer said. “Might not.”

  “Here we go,” Marion grunted.

  That set me to laughin’ some, an’ purty soon all three of us was chucklin’ quite a bit. It was just fine, is what it was.

  Them clouds closed up right smart an’ it was lookin’ like it was fixin’ to rain some when we seen Miss Lotus comin’ on down the way. She was wearin’ a pink dress with a white shawl an’ regular ladies shoes with about a two-inch heel. Them shoes had changed her gait some. After she got up on the porch, she smiled an’ give us a little nod.

  “Miss Lotus,” Homer said, “are ya alright?”

  “Very yes, Ho-ma,” she said. “I like working over at Miz Nora’s Notions for Ladies. She and Miz Darlene are very good to me.”

  “Well ya look right nice in yer new clothes,” Marion tolt her.

  She give him a little bow. “They are very different and feel strange. There are other things I wear under this dress I have never seen before. Miz Darlene says I will get used to them.”