by Chuck Buda
George stared off at the moon rising over the prairie. He breathed the fresh night air in and rubbed his stubble. “I’m sure we’ll be seeing each other again, Mr. Injun.” He looked around the porch and then returned to the saloon, eagerly anticipating having to tangle with the big Indian at a later point tonight.
“My, oh my. Ain’t you a big man?” Minnie sidled up to the stranger who stood rigid before the ladies. She checked him out from top to bottom. Sarah, seeing her best friend sizing up the groceries, decided to intervene.
“Hello. I’m Sarah Johnson. I’m James’ mother.” She offered her hand to Crouching Bear who looked down at it momentarily and then squeezed it hard. Sarah winced but tried not to yank her hand back.
“This is Minnie. She is Carson’s mother.” Sarah glanced nervously at Minnie who circled Crouching Bear. She shot a look at James who awkwardly looked down at his boots. Carson remained slightly hidden behind James, somewhat unsure of the encounter.
Crouching Bear settled his gaze upon Minnie who clearly liked what she saw.
“Um, well, okay. I guess now that you’ve met him, we should be getting him outside now.” James started to indicate it was time to leave.
“Now what’s the rush, sweetie? We got all night to talk. And do other fun things.” Minnie smiled and bit her lower lip. She ran a finger down the man’s chest. Crouching Bear seemed confused but quickly caught on to the game.
“We, sort of, got caught bringing him in here.” James admitted while shrugging his shoulders in guilt.
“What? I told you to be careful. What happened?” Sarah showed her concern for her livelihood.
“George walked up on us and we couldn’t get by without him questioning us.”
“Tsk. I don’t know who’s worse, George or Filler. They’re both grumpier than a pack mule at high noon.” Sarah shook her head, wondering what might befall them now.
“He said he wouldn’t tell on us if we moved quickly and got him out of here.” James assured the ladies. “So we’ll just be on our way and nobody will be the wiser.”
“Hold up, young man.” Minnie hooked her arm in Crouching Bear’s. “I’d like to show this gentleman around a bit and then I will personally see that he leaves without trouble.”
“But what about George? He’ll pound us fer sure.” James was frightened of not keeping his end of the agreement. He felt Carson completely bury his face in his backside.
Minnie chuckled. “You leave George to me. He won’t mind when I talk to him...alone.” She started to lead Crouching Bear toward the rooms. James watched with his mouth opened wide, unsure of what to do next. Sarah chewed her fingernail and then put her hand on his shoulder.
“I know this is scary but we’ll work it out. You better be on your way before Filler catches you boys upstairs during work hours. His mustache will droop further down his face if he finds you here.” She patted down some loose hairs on the side of his head and spun him toward the staircase.
James obeyed his mother’s instructions but he had a huge pit in his stomach. The best day of his life was taking a nosedive. It started with an exciting adventure and he thought it was going to end with his death, or at least a hide skinning like none other. The boys shuffled down the stairs.
Sarah watched them go down the stairs and then turned to see where Minnie had gone. The Indian and her best friend were gone.
Chapter 9
Carson shuffled the deck with adept hands. His tongue touched his upper lip as he focused on the task. James threw pebbles off the back porch of the saloon. He didn’t see where they landed because night had already settled upon the town. The roar of laughter and glasses clinking together sounded from inside the door.
“I’m so sick of this place.” James threw another pebble. “All that ever happens is working and sitting. Sitting and working. And I’m tired of getting yelled at too.” He nodded towards the bar even though Carson was looking down. “It’s only fixing to get worse once George finds out that we left Crouching Bear upstairs.”
Carson dealt the hand. He blinked rapidly as he spoke to James. “Neat how we snucked outta there before he seen us. We tricked him good.”
“We snuck, not snucked. Anyways, it won’t be long before he gets wise to what we did.” He picked up his hand and looked it over. He sat up straight when he realized he finally had a good hand. Suddenly, the possibility of beating Carson at cards took the frustration out of his mood.
Carson watched James and inventoried his own hand. His face remained expressionless. James looked over his cards at Carson, tapping his foot contentedly on the boards. Both boys ante-ed up and raised each other several buttons before calling. James plunked his straight down with exuberance and leered at Carson with victorious satisfaction. Carson noted his excitement and carefully laid his hand on top of James’. Full house yet again.
“Dang it!” James kicked the cards off the porch. His friend smiled quietly and began gathering the cards up from the dirt. “I ain’t never gonna win a game.”
Carson kept picking up cards and stacking them in his small fist. “You didn’t pay attention.”
Just as James was about to respond with a wisecrack, a crash came from the bar. Several women screamed and the sound of tables and chairs scraping along the wood floor wafted outside. The boys heard George curse a few times in between the sound of punches connecting. A few moments later the crowd cheered and the piano started playing again. Saloon life had returned to normal after George took care of the situation.
Carson waited for James to turn back to him then he began dealing another hand. James didn’t want to play cards anymore. He told Carson to put the cards away and the friends sat in silence for a while, watching the stars and moon high above the town. James daydreamed about striking out on his own and living in different towns like his father. He pictured himself hammering the butt end of his revolver on many black-hatted heads. He saw people admiring him as he strolled down the streets. He smelled the perfume of the most beautiful women who doted upon him. It would be great to be the hero and have newspapers write about his deeds.
The back door swung open and the heavy footfalls of a drunken customer startled the boys out of their thoughts. They turned just in time to avoid Wilson, the town drunk, from stepping on them as he faltered forward. The man missed the wooden steps and plunged to the dirt below face first. James and Carson exchanged glances. Wilson rolled over with his tan hat brim dented and his cigar was crumpled up in his teeth. Oddly enough, a fraction of the lit end still smoldered even though it was off to the side of the rest of the cigar. Wilson managed to set up and he puffed away to re-fire the smoke while he dusted off his hat. “I musta got turned around there, fellas.” He was in much better spirits at the moment than he had been this morning when James stood up to him. James prepared himself for Wilson to give him grief but it seemed the drunk had forgotten all about the morning incident. “Well don’t jest set there a’lookin’ inta the sky, will ya? Hep a good man up, now, see?” Wilson extended his hands for assistance.
James was relieved that Wilson wasn’t going to mention the argument. He hopped down off the porch and picked up the drunken townsman. The smell of tobacco and whiskey permeated the surrounding region and James fought hard to get fresh air. He stood Wilson up. Wilson teetered to the left and then stumbled back to the right before gaining a solid foothold. His boots were all scuffed from falling down and dragging his heels all the time. He patted the dust off his jacket, clouds of particles floated into the night. James turned and saw Carson sitting on the porch watching the whole show go down. The boy giggled and James started to snicker himself when the door swung open once more.
Filler cowered in the doorway with his pinched nose and hawk-like, beady eyes. He observed the boys staring at Wilson and that was all it took to set him off. “What in hell blazes are ya doing out here? You boys bothering my customers?” He yelled at them in general but James knew it was directed at him.
“No sir. Mr. Wilson
just stepped outside for a moment. He got confused and thought the back door was the front door.”
“Well, that ain’t make no sense, boy. Anyone can see the front doors is swinging in the breeze and the back door is solider than stone.” He shot a look at Wilson. “Even Wilson can tell that difference.”
James looked down at his boots and thought to himself that apparently Wilson couldn’t tell the difference. But he kept his sass inside. Carson had crawled under the wooden steps to the porch without anybody noticing. He cowered beneath the porch, his eyes pleading to James to finish the scene. James tapped his fingers along his leg to signal Carson that everything would be fine.
“Wilson, you git yer pickled ass back inside er get gone right now. I ain’t runnin no sideshow here.” Filler stormed back into the bar and slammed the door shut. He re-opened the door once he remembered why he had come out back in the first place. He splashed the filthy bucket of water over the porch. It smelled of soap suds mixed with whiskey and vomit. The bucket dripped on the floor and Filler slammed the door shut again. James went back to the porch and sat on the steps. Carson crawled around the steps and sat in between James’ legs.
Wilson wobbled on his feet while trying to figure out his next move. His wild eyebrows shifted up and down in opposite direction of his teetering stance. It appeared that a good idea had come to him and then he shuffled off into the dark. His direction wasn’t aimed at the saloon or the side street. It was more or less diagonal to the row of buildings. The boys watched Wilson, silently guessing where he was headed.
“Let’s go somewhere, Carson. I’m done sitting on this porch for tonight.”
“Okay. Carson stood before James did. He grabbed James’ belt loop and James put his arm around Carson’s shoulders. They walked slowly toward their hiding spot, all the while laying out their plans for leaving this life for one of adventure, fighting the evils of the world.
Chapter 10
Crouching Bear sat in a wooden rocking chair while Minnie blew out a few candles. The shadowy room got noticeably darker, but light enough for him to see the beautiful white woman. He admired the silky glow of her light skin and the delicate curves of her soft body. Crouching Bear had known the pleasures of the flesh before. All warriors were initiated into manhood by tribe women set aside for just such times. And he had taken a white woman once before, during a war party. The warriors had raided a village of white men who took land from them. He had experienced everything that night in true warrior fashion. Killing, scalping, raping and then burning the huts and stealing the livestock. It had been a victorious night. But those women were hard and big, like men. Tribe women and peasant whites were not delicate. They were not small. They were not graceful.
Minnie frolicked and danced before him. She caressed her neck and shoulders with a feather boa, writhing in the flickering light. Her shadow danced upon the walls with a slight delay. She giggled and cooed, teasing the large Indian in her display of sexuality.
Crouching Bear felt his loins rise with heat. He thought to himself that he had never felt so large and full as he did now. His mind furiously anticipating the warmth of the woman, the smell of her musk and the deepness becoming oneness. He started to rise but Minnie shoved him back down. She knelt before him and massaged him with skill that he had not known. Her hot breath upon his skin, sending tingles from his groin to his toes.
Not being able to withstand the seduction any longer, Crouching Bear lifted Minnie with one hand like she was a small child. He pulled her into his muscular chest with thick arms and large hands. He took two steps across the small room and then plunged into her as he landed on her bed. He entered so easily as she had anticipated his touch too. He trembled and penetrated repeatedly while Minnie squeezed the brass rails behind her. She accepted the largeness and he felt her pleasure. He grunted as he raised himself on solid arms and continued to glide on his white princess. Her soft belly kissed his hard stomach over and over. Crouching Bear closed his eyes and buried his head in her shoulder, concentrating on the sensations in every fiber of his being.
Minnie cried out in ecstasy, grasping the brass rails. She lifted her hips to meet his thrusts and she swiveled in circles coaxing his pleasure further. Her breasts trembled with each penetration and brushed against the stone chest of the Indian. Both bodies moist, sweating and slipping with passion. Her cries interspersed with moans, the pace quickening. She clutched his buttocks and focused her eyes on the ceiling. The cords in her neck straining to break free. He grunted and went deeper, faster. The bed shifted on the wood floor and smacked against the outside wall. The momentum increased and then exploded.
Crouching Bear shivered and trembled as he settled inside her. His whole spirit lost in a moment of time with no substance, no reality. Just an essence, a fleeting chasm in the universe without boundaries. He knew that this was the most alive he had ever felt. His head sunk further into the pillow and he tried to slow his breathing.
Minnie giggled softly, holding the large man to her skin. She wiggled gently to keep his flagging spirit from withering. She sighed and closed her eyes contentedly.
Crouching Bear opened his eyes in a drowsy haze. The room had gotten darker as one of the lit candles had burned to the bottom. Minnie was dressing on the other side of the room. She patted a talcum with a flowery scent across her breasts and between her legs. He stretched his arms behind his head as he watched her delicate shape. Minnie heard him stir and glanced toward the bed. She took notice of the largeness which already reappeared.
“Did you have a nice time?” She tucked her breasts in a bodice of black lace. Minnie wiggled her backside at him in a taunting display of naughtiness.
Crouching Bear nodded. He hoped she would return to the bed so he could soar with the spirits once more.
Minnie walked up to the bed and plopped down next to him. She stroked his stomach. “I never had a red man before. It’s nice to finally get a chance to feel the wild side.” She giggled. “Of course I would lose all my clients if they knew I had been with a savage.” She stared at the ceiling to think further about that. “At the least I would have to charge on discount.”
Crouching Bear stiffened at her harsh words. He was shocked that something so soft and beautiful could turn so cruel. He felt anger stir. He sat up and pushed her arm off his stomach.
“What’s gotten into you? I’m just saying what the truth is. No white man wants to lay with a woman after she has been with an Indian. They liken it to having relations with an animal in the field, is all.”
Crouching Bear stood up. He wanted to put on his garments and leave the room but he couldn’t locate them. His aggression was building and the frustration of not finding his clothes added to it like tossing whiskey on a flame. His head looked around, searching the darkness for his outfit.
“You know, I could charge you for laying with me but I did this out of the kindness of my heart.” Minnie put her hands on her hips. “The boys brought us your sob story and I figured I could make life a little fun for you with all your troubles. And instead you get all sore with me. You’re lucky to be with a girl like me, you know.”
Crouching Bear moved her aside so that he could check under the bed. But he had used a little too much force and Minnie took it as the beginning of a beating. She scratched at his chest and yelled at him for being an animal. The pains overtook him immediately. He fell to the wood floor and clawed at the boards beneath his hands. His skin stretched and filled with coarse, dark hair. The bones in his spine and legs crunched as they extended and shifted into the form of a bear. Minnie sat back upon the bed, her mouth opened wide in disbelief at what she saw. She put her arm in front of her face to fend him off.
The man-bear stood eight feet tall and roared at the ceiling. It lowered its head and thrust its jaws upon Minnie. The man-bear forced its way inside her chest cavity, devouring her heart and lungs. It ate with a fervor and didn’t stop.
Minnie stared at the ceiling, no longer seeing. Her lifeless bo
dy thrashed upon the blood-soaked sheets as the man-bear tore hunks of flesh. Its sharpened teeth mashing through meat and bone.
Chapter 11
“Minnie?” Knock, knock, knock. “Minnie? Your time is up. You have another gentleman waiting to see you.” Candy waited at the door, listening for Minnie to acknowledge her. She waited for a few more seconds. “I’ll see if I can keep him company for a few more minutes but you have to finish up, okay?” She leaned against the door but the noise from the lounge down the hall and the saloon downstairs was so loud that she couldn’t be sure if she would have heard Minnie anyway. Candy shrugged and hurried down the hall to the lounge.
The man-bear jumped up when the loud knocking sounded on the door. Its instincts for self-preservation overrode its thirst for blood. It panted quietly as it listened to the human on the other side of the door. The bear had nearly finished its meal.
Slowly, the beast’s body shifted back into human form. Crouching Bear writhed silently in pain, becoming aware of the cold, hard floor boards and the overwhelming stench of death. He tried to make sense of his whereabouts but it took several minutes for his consciousness to return. He tasted blood and noticed the sticky remnants on his hands and chest.
It all came back to him as he scrambled for his garments. He began to remember the boy’s mother and their union. Then he recalled her hurtful words and his anger. His stomach churned at the thought of what he had done. This was the second time now. Crouching Bear knew the curse was real and he thought he figured out that the curse was triggered by anger. He wondered how he could possibly avoid it from happening again. Everywhere he turned there were hostile white men or his tribe hunting him down. He just couldn’t imagine a time or place where he could cushion himself against the feelings of rage.
