Spook
Dedicated with love to my precious Duke. As Roy Rogers and Dale Evans sang, "Happy trails to you, until we meet again."
...
Chapter One
Wagon travel makes me itch. Down there, anyway. That's because I'd rather be in the saddle than sitting on a rattling seat for twelve miles one way and then dad-gum, it's gotta be taken twelve miles back, too. I guess that's why I lingered when the supplies were loaded up. I'd told myself that Slim didn't gimme the roll of greenery so I could spend some on a coupla drinks, but when I paid the bill and the change came back to me in coins instead of paper, well, it seemed like fate was pointing me toward the saloon.
Considering how it turned out, I reckon that was a good word for it.
I figured something was going on even before I hit the first step up to the Stockmen's Palace. Too many guffaws to say it was just an average day, but my mouth wasn't forming a smile as I entered. No. This wasn't the kinda noise that fit with my kinda humor.
I dunno why the bartender insists on putting that screen up between the door and the barroom. It's been shot full'a holes so many times that it's gotta be replaced every coupla weeks anyway. Apparently a new one had been erected since I'd last stopped by, because I couldn't get that immediate look in as I parted the batwings. Too bad, because I woulda come in holding iron if I'd been able to take in the whole scene before turning the corner around that blasted screen.
Four men were at a corner table. It looked like they'd been playing poker, but the group towel musta been tossed in sometime back, because there wasn't a dime in its center. Only their cards, strewn around, but from the looks of things, it wasn't the men's hands that had done the folding.
Coming close, I caught a set of eyes that immediately dove into mine, kinda green and every bit sharp, like the foursome that was fastened into Ken McCall's arm. "What're you aiming to do?"
McCall waved a knife in the air, but after a trio of circles, the point took a downward jut. "Just gawna cut off more of 'is tail. See? Summ'un 'ready did it once."
Dad-gum. I wish men didn't try to talk with their tongue wrapped around a chunk of chew. Sounds just like they're working on a bowl of mush when they talk. But I reckon I had something in my mouth, too, and I was ready to spit every piece of gravel in McCall's face.
"No you ain't."
"Oh, come on Jess," said the man to McCall's right. I think his name was Hank Something-or-another, but whatever it was, I was ready to rebrand him with fool in capital letters. "Where's your sense of humor? It's just a no-account cat."
"I see a cat, all right, but the no-accounts are all four of you."
"He's a spook, Jess. Bad luck." McCall's knife took on a dangerous glint as it went toward the cat's tail. "I thought ever'wun knew wha' black cats were."
I wanted to put the iron in my palm, but I only let my fingers tap the handle. They saw my move, and three of the four so-called men put whatever was in their mouths directly into their bellies. "The only bad luck around here for you is what's inside of my gun. If it really is bad, then it'll go into your stinking hides."
McCall's throat had too much titter in it for his own good. "You wuddn't really shoot us o'er a cat."
Oh, how I wanted to prove him wrong at that very moment, but I wanted my tongue to do the work first. Then if pushed, I could pour out some lead. "Let him go."
I saw the smirk. I wasn't gonna be fooled by the sugar he put on his tongue. "A'right. There you go, Spook."
His hand went for his gun, his aim for the streak of black, and dad-gum, I thought I'd lost the feeling of pleasure in outdrawing an opponent. "Put them all on the ground." Two seconds of hesitation was too long for me. "Now!"
I heard the repeated clanks of irons falling to the floor at the same time I heard the distinct noise of a claw-gripped scramble. Knowing that the opposite end threat was minimal, I allowed my eyes to wander from the tight faces to glance over my shoulder. Yup, just what I'd suspected. The cat had climbed up the stair-rail's support post. All the way to the top where it connected with a ceiling beam.
Well, I wasn't gonna leave him there. I'd just rescued the poor thing from McCall's knife and whatever else he was figuring on doing, so for sure I had to take the saving all the way. Since I couldn't make a climb with one hand, I had to holster my weapon. Even if I was gonna be scaling a wall, I figured the speed they'd just witnessed would prevent one of them from leaning down to pick up one of the pieces on the floor.
"Better not do it, Harper," said one of the names I was unfamiliar with. It didn't matter anyhow, I wasn't gonna give him another glance. "Mac already took a fall when Old Spook came into the saloon, Howard dropped a beer he was filling on his foot, and Stoker's girl done ran off with another fellow. All because of that cat."
"Go complain to someone else," I said, looking up at the obstacle that was put in front of me. I could do it. Sure. No problem. Well, maybe one problem. I figured I could get up, all right, but coming down with the cat. Dad-gum.
"Ah, let the hardhead figger it out for hisself."
My jaw went tight as I forced my reply to stay locked with it, but dad-gum, it was gonna be a challenge to keep it there, because that wasn't all of it.
"Yeah. Maybe he'll wind up in the doctor's office."
"Or better yet, boot hill!"
"He and the cat both!"
There weren't enough bullets in my belt. I know some of them woulda been scattering their feet into some kinda hoe-down if my hands weren't locked on the railing I was gonna climb, but I did get a chance to toss a coupla from my eyes. It shut them up where words were concerned, but their bellies still rolled around with laughter when I returned my focus to the cat.
"Easy, Fella." I could read his fear, but there was also curiosity in that emerald-like shimmer. Inching up the stairs, I put one foot on the railing, and then the other.
"Come on, Jess! His name's Spook! Get it right!"
"Shut up!" I barked, but maybe I shoulda hissed. After all, I was going after a cat. Didn't wanna make him recoil on account he thought I had a dog in my hip pocket.
He spoke to me. It was kinda a cross between a "hello" and a "you-better-watch-yourself-mister" kinda noise. I nodded my response, wanting to keep my tone on the cool end, but since I'd just thrown a batch of rocks down at the group below me, I wasn't sure he'd believe a kindhearted "howdy." I tried anyway.
"Hi there," I said, showing a little bit of teeth.
Baring his fangs with a spit, he reached a paw out and slapped me on the jaw, hard enough that the smarting from his claws turned into dabs of blood. It's sure a good thing I don't give up easily or I woulda took a straight drop to the ground with a good-riddance on my tongue. Or maybe it ain't about giving up at all. I'd treated some men that way, walking away from a stubborn head that refused an offered hand before. But this wasn't no man. And I reckon the most important part was that the kitty here was bound for cruelty's worst trick if I didn't get him talked outta being so obstinate.
Reaching my hand out, I watched the dark nose draw in with the scent of my fingertips. What is it that cats do? Purr. Yeah, I reckon I could do a little of that. I let my tongue drawl at its softest. "Easy there. I ain't a brute like those others. I wanna be your friend if you'll let me. Your choice, Pal. Me or them."
The green eyes gave a double blink and I took that as some kinda understanding. Taking my fingers to the top of the cat's nose, I slid my touch behind an ear and rubbed. All right, we were getting somewhere, or at least I thought it was a positive that he didn't try to belt me again. I took the trail farther down his back, petting in short motions, and when I got closer to the hind-area, the tail popped up. It was shortened, about half of what a normal cat's slender sway must be, but getting a good look at its tip, I could see that McCall's knife never touched it. Good thing. He mighta lost some of his hindquarters too if there was even a drop of blood on the cat's tail.
Petting and picking up are two different kinds of trust. I tried to keep my face from pinching, expecting some more retaliation as I switched my hand from his upper-half to his undersides, but he didn't buck. He kinda did the movement all by himself and in one leap, I had a cat clinging to my shoulder. Every hook extended, inside my shirt and marring my hide. Oh well. What's a coupla more scars, anyway?
Considering I came close to adding one more, I reckon I better watch what I say from now on.
I moved my foot to take that first step down, and since I wasn't just wearing a little extra weight on top, I also had a bit of a black coat rubbing against my cheek, it made it kinda hard to see that way. Well, I missed my mark. My foot didn't just hit the place where I'd climbed up, it went through, and my backend came down with a wallop, all the way to the ground. Dad-gum, if half the banister didn't go with me. Musta been more, the way the bartender hollered and the four jack-fools were cackling in the corner.
For sure the cat woulda been out the door, running on legs that wouldn't stop, but before I could even pry open one eyelid, I felt the poke against my belly. He was standing on me, working his paws in and out of my chest.
"Yeah, I'm all right," I said more to the cat than anything else that had ears. It was a good thing, too. If I woulda had to cart my hide to doc's office for any kinda patching, their laughter woulda turned into bullets popping.
Tucking my arm around the black waist, I pried my body outta the wooden debris, refrained from giving my legs a dusting off, and started toward the door. It was more than time to go.
The bartender stood in my way, arms crossed like the expression he was wearing. "Sorry, Jess. You're paying for that."
I fished around in my pocket for what was left over after the stop in the store, and not bothering to count it, I slapped every single coin on top of the counter. If it wasn't enough, oh well. Blame it on faulty construction.
"It's your life, Jess. Or whatever's left of it!" McCall's voice walked on out with me. Good thing it was only in sound, not body, or I woulda had need to pay for something else, like maybe spending a night or two in jail for what my actions woulda been.
The wagon in front of me, I set the cat on the seat and then put my hands against my hips. So what am I gonna do with him now? Oh wait. I better get something straightened out before I go any further. I gave the back area a peek and nodded. It was a good thing I'd guessed right on his flavoring in the first place, because I reckon he woulda punched me again if I woulda called him a girl.
"Well, what would you like?"
I knew what I wanted, just to take him on home with me, but I didn't know if the cat felt the same. For all I knew he belonged to somebody in Laramie and woulda been kinda peeved with me for taking him away from a bowl of cream or whatever mighta been waiting on somebody's porch step for him. Taking my eyes along Front Street and then farther down by the schoolhouse, I spotted a coupla kids tossing a ball back and forth.
One of them was a paperboy. He'd know. "Hey Chet, come here."
"Yeah, Mr. Harper? You wanna buy a paper or something?"
"No. Either of you kids know if this cat's gotta home?"
"That cat?" Chet asked, taking a step back away from the wagon. "Don't think so. Ever'body in town's skeered of him. Thought Johnny's pa was gonna shoot him. Guess he must've missed."
Well that settled that. I was so blamed mad that I wasn't even sure I'd said anything proper to the boys as I climbed in the wagon seat. For all I knew, I just took up the reins and gave the team a slap. It didn't matter. We were going home.
It wasn't 'til I was halfway there did I realize I didn't taste a drop of whiskey. Dad-gum. I had a feeling I was gonna need it.