by J. Lee Butts
Samuel Crazy Snake’s dust-kicking and foot-stomping continued with a passion. He whooped, hollered, and twirled with such abandon, the approach of three horsed men and two mules completely failed his observation. We’d reined up and spent almost a minute sitting on our animals watching him when he finally noticed our presence, snapped to attention, and looked puzzled. His amazement at our appearance didn’t last long, though.
He flashed us a toothy grin, raised both arms, a whiskey jug in each hand, looked to the sky, and said, “Oh Great Father, why do you persecute Crazy Snake so? Now I even fail to spot these clumsy, sneaking white men. Have I fallen so far from your benevolence? What is a poor civilized Indian to do?”
He took a quick hit from one of his jugs, held it out our direction, and said, “You white fellers wanna drink? It ain’t very good stuff. Closer to paint thinner than drinkin’ liquor. But it’ll do the trick in a pinch.”
Carlton dismounted. Billy and me followed suit. Crazy Snake didn’t wait for us to come to him. He boldly strolled forward and offered the jug again. Carl took it, smelled the contents, and frowned like he’d been slapped in the face with a wet dog. He handed the earthen vessel to Billy, who wet a finger with the liquid inside and tasted it.
“Holy Moses, Snake. Even considering the quality of most of the run-of-the-mill illegal rotgut we get out here, this is some pretty rank stuff. Could well render a man senseless, stupid, and maybe even dead,” Billy said, and handed the container back to the swaying Indian.
“Well, it can’t make me crazy. I’m already there. Crazy Snake, that’s me. A good Comanche man made insane while being raised by white people. I am the unfortunate product of a Methodist education and too much time living in a wooden house, where everything’s corners and sharp angles.”
I said, “Think I’d dump that stuff. Billy Bird knows bad liquor when he tastes it. Could be nothing more’n wood alcohol. Might kill you deader’n this feller here.”
He shook one of the jugs at us. “This stuff can’t hurt me. If I drink enough of it, should put me right with the world again. Bet my pony, by the time I get to the bottom of this second one, just might be able to see God.” He took another healthy snort. “Hope the ole boy shows up. Been needin’ to talk with him face-to-face for a spell now. Some years have passed since our last nose-to-nose dustup. Got a bone or two to pick with the Deity, you know.”
I pointed at the poor feller staked out behind him. “Did you kill this man?”
He clumsily twirled around to face the corpse like he’d been hit on one side by something heavy, and swayed like a tree in a stiff wind. “No, sir, I did not. He was extremely dead when I rode up. There was a bunch of horses here before I arrived, though. Look. There’s tracks over yonder from six or seven of ’em. Men ridin’ in robbed this poor deceased feller blind. These here are the only two undamaged containers I could find. Appears the killers took as they wanted and busted all the rest. Contents leaked all over Hell and gone. Wouldn’t let a spark loose around the wagon, if I was you boys.”
Billy headed for the wagon while Carl and I examined the corpse. Carl knelt beside the dead man. “Why were you dancin’, Snake?” he asked.
“Poor feller went out real bad. All cut open, chopped up, and gutted like that. Bad way to make the trip to the other side. Thought I’d do a short dance for ’im, maybe smooth the path to the other side a little.”
“Right nice of you,” I said.
He smiled, nipped at the liquor again, and said, “I thought exactly that, my very own self.”
“Just out for a drink today, Snake?” Carl asked.
“On my way to visit some folks who live near here, friend Cecil. Accidentally happened upon this poor unfortunate as I passed. Saved me the trouble of looking for him ’cause I was in the market for something to drink.”
“Folks you were out to visit wouldn’t be named Wilson, would they?” I asked.
A puzzled look flickered across his inebriated, heavily lined face. “How’d you know?”
“Bunch that killed this whiskey runner rubbed out the whole family. We just came from there.”
You could hear real distress in the drunken half-breed’s voice when he snapped, “Damnation. The Wilsons was mighty fine folk. Nicest people around these parts. Usually visited with them two or three times a year when I came over looking for a snort or two.” He shook his head, dropped one jug on the ground, and threw the other against it. “Drinkin’s supposed to be fun. Ain’t no fun when your friends get rudely murdered.”
“No, I suppose not,” I offered.
He took his hat off and held it against his chest with both hands. “You boys reckon it’d be agreeable if I tagged along on this raid? Sure would like to see them what done my friends in brought to justice. Certain I could be of some help. Looks to me, from the tracks, you’re slightly outnumbered. Another couple of guns can’t hurt.”
I looked to Carl. He nodded his agreement and said, “He’s right, Hayden. Liquor’s all gone. He’ll sober up soon. Sure won’t hurt to have some more firepower. Looks like we’ll have our hands full, when we finally catch up with that bunch of killers.”
“All right,” I said. “You can come along. Stick with Billy. You can help him with the tracking. We sure as hell don’t want to lose their trail.”
Crazy Snake led a fine-looking pinto pony from behind the wagon. A well-oiled, Yellow Boy saddle gun was nestled in the boot. As he climbed aboard, I noticed a bone-handled Colt beneath his coat that rode high on the waist in a tooled, double-loop, Mexican holster. It amazed me to admit that as he got mounted, the man appeared to have made a remarkable recovery from the effects of his recent drinking. Then again, like a lot of drunks, he might well have just been highly accomplished at hiding it.
Didn’t have time to dig another hole, so we took the dead whiskey runner’s grossly mutilated body, loaded it into the wagon, and put the torch to the whole shebang. All that standing liquor exploded in a cyclone of alcohol-fed flame. Burned so hot I could still feel the heat even after we’d moved more than a hundred feet away from the creek. Thick, black smoke billowed into the air, but blew away from us on a favorable breeze.
Carl turned and said, “Hope them boys up ahead don’t see that cloud.”
Thought about it a bit before I was able to admit to myself he was probably right. Maybe we should have given it some more consideration before setting such a fire. The Dawson gang had already proven themselves to be coldblooded murderers. Bushwhacking a party of deputy marshals wouldn’t concern them in the least.
As Billy and Snake pulled away, I yelled, “Keep a sharp eye out, boys. Don’t want any of us to end up like the Wilsons or the whiskey runner.”
Knew they would be careful, but a feeling of creeping unease suddenly settled in on me for the first time since we’d left Fort Smith. That kind of gnawing sensation you get when things just aren’t quite right, and something on a gut level tells you there’s bad times ahead.
4
“SHE’S DEAD, I EXPECT.”
LATE THE NEXT afternoon, Billy fogged back our direction as fast as his animal could run. Brought the horse to a hopping, clod-slinging stop beside me. He was breathless like he’d been the one doing the running.
“Come quick, Hayden. There’s something up ahead you need to see,” he said.
Carlton cocked his head like a puzzled puppy. “What? What the hell’s got your bobbin wound up so tight?”
Billy whipped his hat off and wiped his face on the sleeve of his faded bib-front shirt. “Couldn’t find no marks on the girl anywhere, but I can’t get nothin’ out of her neither. Just sits and stares off into nothin’. Damned strange. Gave me the willies just looking at her.”
Reached over and took my shaken friend by the arm. “Who? What girl are you rattlin’ on about?” I asked.
“Don’t know her name. Like I said, couldn’t get her to talk to me. Seems right as rain on the surface, but there’s something wrong. Mighty wrong. Got that blank,
dazed look you see on people who’ve had awful stuff happen to them. You need to come quick, Hayden. I left Crazy Snake with her. Maybe you can figure it out.”
“Well, lead on. Carlton and I are right behind you, but we can only go as fast as these critters we’re leading will allow.”
He spun his mount around in a tight circle and kicked away. Handed Carl the line on my mule and said, “No need in both of us tryin’ to drag these animals along. Bring ’em up quick as you can. I’ll hurry on ahead and see what’s got him all humped up and kicking.”
“Careful,” Carl growled. “Could be some kind of trap, or trick. Just never can be too cautious when you’re trailin’ the likes of Dawson and Rix.”
Followed the swath Billy cut through swaying grass belly high on Gunpowder. Previous trail was easy to retrace as he’d made the back-and-forth trip once already. He managed a quarter-mile lead as we headed over the rolling, almost treeless hills. Three miles or so into the run, a creek slashed across in front of us. Billy disappeared into the canyonlike green cut in the brittle earth’s hard-baked skin.
Sparkling clear stream was lined on either side by huge well-watered cottonwoods, blackjack oak, and live oaks. Pulled up beside the largest of the cottonwoods and dismounted near Billy. He stood beside his horse, slapped the reins against his palm, and stared at the base of the tree.
Amidst an enormous pile of brittle, fallen leaves, some as large as dinner plates, the most beautiful Indian girl I’d ever seen sat like a bronze statue. Crazy Snake squatted nearby and shrugged when I walked up, as if to indicate he’d obtained nothing by way of information from her. Billy motioned me forward, but appeared reluctant to approach the girl again himself. As I got closer, her dark-eyed, black-haired beauty became even more compelling.
I knelt right in front of her. Chocolate-colored eyes as big as my thumbnails appeared not to see me. Leaned over as close as I deemed proper. Girl’s pupils were drawn up to the size of pinheads. Felt something beside me, and noticed that my companion had reconsidered and now crouched close enough to whisper in my ear.
“Got any ideas, Hayden?”
Picked up a twig and scratched around in the dirt a bit before saying, “Think maybe she’s in shock, Billy. I’ve seen this kind of hysterical behavior before. Could take some time for her to come out of it.”
“Cain’t we do nothin’? I mean, ain’t there something to remedy the situation?”
“Get a blanket. We’ll lay her down, elevate her feet a bit, and keep her warm. Not much else to be done as far as I’m aware. Have to hope maybe she’ll come around ’fore morning, and we can find out who she is. Go ahead and set up camp here. We’ve made pretty good time today. No point pushing it any harder. We’ll see what we can do for this unfortunate child.”
“Child? Too good-lookin’ to be a child, ain’t she? How old you think she is?”
Thought I detected some wishful thinking on Billy’s part. Typical young-man attitude. “Oh, anywhere from fifteen to twenty. Hard to say, but she couldn’t be much older than that. Get me a blanket. Then go help Carl lead the mules in. I’ll see to the girl.”
He stood, but before taking his leave, bent over and whispered, “She is a beauty, ain’t she?”
I stared into the silent girl’s exquisitely smooth-skinned, fine-boned, full-lipped face and said, “That she is, Billy. Don’t believe I’ve ever seen another living human being to compare her with.”
Me and Snake raked a bunch of the dead leaves into a kind of bed and spread Billy’s blanket out over them. Girl made no move to resist as we picked her up and then placed her on the makeshift pallet. Those chocolate eyes closed for the first time as soon as her head touched the blanket. She lapsed into a deep sleep. Didn’t move at all before I turned in and headed for a dream-filled night myself.
I awoke to the smell of sizzling bacon, Dutch oven-baked biscuits, and blackstrap molasses. Our recently acquired guest sat on a saddle blanket and wolfed down gobs of food like she’d not eaten in a month.
Carl, Billy, and Snake sipped at their cups and watched the girl from behind the fire circle like a group of curious kids who’d found some kind of exquisite wild animal and weren’t quite sure what to do with it.
Poured myself a tin cup of belly wash and squatted with my friends. “Has she said anything?” I asked.
Billy shook his head. Carl said, “Not a word. Grabbed that tin plate out of my hand like she was starved, though. Think if I hadn’t let go, she’d of bit my fingers off. I’ve already refilled it twice. Acts like she ain’t had nothin’ solid to eat in a month.”
Crazy Snake smiled. “Sure as hell got a healthy appetite for such a tiny little thing. Gonna be a big, round woman when she’s grown if she keeps eatin’ like that. Course I’ve always liked the fat ones. Takes a woman with meat on her bones to get ole Crazy Snake’s attention. One that’ll keep him warm on cold nights.”
All three of them followed when I strolled over and knelt a comfortable distance away from the girl. She stopped pushing meat and bread into her face and flashed something of a panicked look at us. I waved my friends away, and they quickly scuttled back to the fire.
She went back to eating. “Do you speak English, miss?” I said it low and slow—tried not to introduce any urgency into my question.
She glanced up at me and nodded. Coal-black braids brushed against her chest as her head bobbed up and down. Between biscuit crumbs and half-chewed bacon strips, she mumbled, “Yes. My mother is white. She taught me.”
Studied her astonishing face for a bit, and only then detected the presence of some white ancestry. “Where is your mother?”
“She’s dead, I expect.”
Her response didn’t come as much of a shock. But the possibility of more death ahead still brought a feeling of mild surprise and disgust. “What makes you think that?”
“Bad men came to our house. Killed my father. We heard him yelling outside. Then a storm of gunfire and the yelling stopped. My mother pushed me out the back door and told me to come here and wait.”
“How long have you waited?”
The question must have proved something of a puzzle. A thin, long-fingered hand hesitated in midair. A strip of bacon hovered near rose-colored lips, but didn’t move for almost five seconds. Finally, she pushed the meat into her mouth and mumbled between chews, “I don’t know.”
“What is your name?”
Once again, I elicited silence and a blank stare. Near a minute passed before I barely heard her say, as though surprised by the realization, “Moonlight. My name is Moonlight Two Hatchets.”
Don’t know how in the world Carlton heard what I had trouble making out, but he stood and said, “Are you Jonas Two Hatchets’s daughter, miss?”
No surprise in the beautiful Moonlight’s voice when she replied, “Yes. I’m Jonas Two Hatchets’s daughter.”
Over my shoulder, I said, “You know this child’s father, Carl?”
“Sure. Known him for years. Shawnee feller. One of the finest men I’ve ever met. Thought his place was further north of here a piece. He married a white missionary lady from back East. She was a beauty. Traveled around to all the different civilized tribes preachin’ and helpin’ folks. Damned fine woman. Now I think on it, this child looks a lot like her mother.”
I stood, stared at the numbed girl for another second or so, turned on my heel, and said, “Get loaded up, boys. We need to find this young woman’s folks as quick as we can. She says her father is already dead, but maybe the mother is still with us.”
Behind me, I heard Moonlight say, “I can’t go back there unless my mother comes here to take me.”
She seemed determined. But in the end, I forced the issue by making it clear that we couldn’t leave her. Hot tears rolled down the girl’s cheeks as Billy helped her up behind him. After we’d gone less than a mile, she wrapped her arms around the lanky marshal’s narrow waist and appeared to have fallen asleep.
It wasn’t all that hard to find Moonl
ight’s home place. Tracks we’d been following, of Dawson and his bunch of killers, along with the smoke and smell of burning flesh, led us right to it. Once we finally had an unobstructed view of the place, I got that creeping sensation, of more blood and death, up and down my sweaty spine. Little doubt existed in my mind that what awaited us in the smoldering ruin, less than a mile away, would evoke more hellish nightmares for years to come.
Noticed, right quick, as how Jonas Two Hatchets had gone a different direction when he built his rustic place. The smoke-shrouded wreck sat on a low hill, and was surrounded by a number of trees that had been set aflame as well. Billy pointed out that the house had once offered a fine view of the surrounding countryside to anyone standing on what was left of a deep front porch.
From a safe distance, Carl stared though his glass and said, “Looks like the kind of home that might belong to a horse trader like Jonas. Newly erected corrals on each side. Pile of scrap rails near the easternmost enclosure. It’s empty. Nervous horses in the pen over on the west side. Stacks of new lumber all around. Must have been doing some work on the house. Course, ain’t no way to tell exactly what’s out back. Stand of oak trees got that part pretty well isolated. May account for how little Miss Moonlight managed to get away as well.”
Billy wiped his brow on the sleeve of his shirt. “Ain’t no shot-to-hell bodies a-layin’ around in the yard, is they?”
Crazy Snake folded his long glass and said, “Nope. Leastways, I can’t see none. Don’t mean they ain’t around, though. May be hidden, you know. Could be behind the house. Hell, could be anything behind all those piles of lumber and other building materials.”
I pulled my .45-70 from its boot and climbed off Gunpowder. Everyone else followed suit. Billy helped the girl down and laid a blanket out for her to sit on. She looked lost, confused, and a bit unnerved. A button-sized tear rolled down her cheek, hesitated as it hung from her jaw, and then dropped to the ground like a lost raindrop.
