A/N1: Book One comes to an end.
Heaven and Hell
Book One:
Bring My Coffin Along
CHAPTER NINE:
Kick Up Your Heels!
Chuck couldn't decide whether the cumulative effect of his visit to Walker's ranch was...merely depressing or...utterly depressing.
Sarah had changed as they talked and rode together. Or Chuck believed she had. But then she changed again - in the twinkling of an eye - when she saw Shaw. She became a different woman, different yet than the two women she had been on their short ride together.
How can a woman who seems so real seem so...numerous?
Chuck mused and Jenny picked her way back to town at a desultory trot.
It was early afternoon when Chuck entered the shadows of the stables. One of the hands came and took Jenny. Chuck was dusting himself off when he heard a throat clear. He looked up to see Diane Beckman and Langston Graham. Beckman had cleared her throat.
"Chuck, do you have a few minutes to talk with us? We've been looking for you."
Chuck nodded and joined them, his cowboy hat in hand. They walked up the street, past the sheriff's office, to Langston's Mortuary. Langston opened the door and a bell tinkled. Chuck laughed as he entered. Langston gave Chuck a glance. "What's funny, Chuck?"
"I was just thinking about the bell, and thinking about John Donne's No Man is an Island: 'And therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls; It tolls for thee.'" Chuck laughed again, a trace of bitterness mixed in. "Or for whom the bell tinkles, I guess." Both Langston and Beckman smiled but neither laughed. Chuck registered their solemn mood and fell silent.
He looked around. The shop was plain, unadorned. A small cross hung on one wall. Away from the door, a counter ran for three-quarters the width of the shop, and on it were two heavy ledgers and a stack of forms. Behind the counter was a doorway into another room, from which wafted a scent, a union of chemical-almond and fresh-sawn wood. Chuck knew the scent from the undertaker's office in Boston where Jill had been taken.
There was a small table near the window and Langston pulled out a chair for Beckman and she sat down. Langston gestured for Chuck to do the same. Langston then seated himself.
"As you have probably guessed," Beckman began, adjusting herself in the chair, scooting forward so that her toes could touch the floor, 'this is not a Board meeting. Despite Mrs. Justus'...continuing efforts...most of your students' parents are overjoyed with the job you are doing. Their children come home full of stories of their teacher, his examples and stories, eager to show their parents what they have learned.
"You have lived up to our expectations, Mr. Bartowski. So, for now, all that is good."
"For now?"
"The murder of Miss Reynolds, God rest her soul, and the...possible implication of Doctor Woodcomb - those have made what was already a...complicated...situation more complicated. So far, so good. But do please tread lightly. Now would not be the time to start studying Darwin, for example."
Chuck nodded. "I had no plans for Origins yet. And, anyway, both the religiously non-scientific and the scientifically non-religious exaggerate the importance of that book. Of course, for all that, it is a fine book, and true, so far as I know."
Langston broke in. "Well, let's leave our human beginnings until later. No need to push her, push Justus."
"Agreed," Chuck said. "I'll let you know when the time comes for that."
"We wanted to talk to you about the students - and about Miss Reynolds," Beckman explained. She looked to Langston, passing the conversation to him.
"You see, Chuck," Langston said, lowering his voice though only the three of them were in the office, "Miss Reynolds was pregnant when she was murdered. I discovered it when I prepared her body for burial. She was a few months along; she had hidden it well."
Beckman fidgeted uncomfortably. Chuck gulped. "What does that have to do with my students?"
"Nothing, we hope," Beckman offered. "But Doctor Woodcomb has vociferously denied...knowledge of Miss Reynolds. Perhaps the mystery man the Doctor Woodcomb claims he saw is responsible, but beyond the two of them, the only people in town she had contact with were her students. And we know Johnny Constance had...eyes for her."
Chuck nodded. "He did. He's taken her murder hard. But why come to me, exactly?"
Langston answered. "Well, we are not comfortable taking this to the sheriff. He knows Miss Reynolds was pregnant but we have not mentioned our concern about his nephew. You see, Chuck, another student claims to have seen Miss Reynolds with Johnny, outside of town. The two of them were...unclothed...naked."
"Which student told you this?"
"Emily Whittier. Her mother brought her to me and my husband this morning, after Emily told her the story. So, Bernard knows about this too."
"But Emily is young, next to the youngest in the school."
"We know that, Chuck, and that's another reason we wanted to talk to you. Do you think she is likely to tell tales?"
Chuck shook his head. "No more than any other small girl with a big imagination - and not that sort of tale. I have a hard time believing Emily could collect the raw material for such a tale." He thought of the mother singing outside Devon's office.
"Okay. So, you think she is telling the truth."
"No, I didn't say that. I don't think she is lying, simply making up a story from whole cloth, deliberately misleading you. But she might have seen something she misunderstood or misinterpreted. I'm not suggesting I know what that would be, but I would suggest taking the story with a pinch of salt."
Beckman looked at Langston. "That's what we thought too. We just wanted to know if you agreed."
"But I thought the sheriff went out to the railroad camp, that Miss Reynolds was seen there. Couldn't...she...you know, there?"
Langston: "She could've. But the sheriff could find no one to corroborate Monica Stutts' story. And that's another reason we wanted to talk to you. Monica talked admiringly of you to the sheriff. Do you think you could talk to her about seeing Miss Reynolds at the camp, try to figure out whether she's making up a story or making a mistake or what?"
"Okay, I can do that. God, what awful news. A fitting addition to a depressing day."
They both looked at Chuck but he offered no elaboration. Langston showed Chuck and Beckman out, and the two of them parted company outside.
Chuck took a few steps then reversed course and went back into Langston's. The bell tinkled. Langston came out of the room behind the counter. "Yes, Chuck?"
"There's something I've been wondering about, Langston. I can - and will - ask the sheriff, but I wonder what you make of it. We've not heard any more about the Number Gang since I got to town, have we?"
"No, we haven't. And the murder has pushed them out of people's minds."
"Right. But I remember, I think so, anyway, someone saying that the money the Gang the stole from my coach was the Walker payroll. Is that right?"
"Yes, it is. The second time it has happened to Walker. Once, they got the Shaw payroll. The train's not running has put the money on the coach."
Chuck nodded slowly. "So that's the payroll for Jack Walker's ranch, the sheep ranch?"
"Yes."
"Has losing two payrolls hurt him?"
Langston nodded. "Sure. He's weathered the storm but it has been a storm. The bank stepped in to tide him over - at least that's what I believe. I'm not sure about that."
"Did the loss of payroll hurt Shaw too?"
"Yes, but it was one payroll, and Shaw's a bigger outfit with far deeper pockets. He can absorb the loss and go on without stumbling. Walker can't."
Chuck thought about that for a while. "Okay, thanks. One other thing - back to Miss Reynolds. How exactly was she supposed to leave town? Wouldn't she have had to take the coach?"
"No, Chuck, the train was still running in the spring. The bridge had not fallen. The depot was under construction but the train came and went. Everyone assumed she had taken the train... although I guess it is odd that no one claimed to see her leave…I guess everyone assumed someone else had seen her."
Chuck nodded. Another in the list of confusing things the day had brought him.
"So the bridge fell. Was anyone hurt? No one has mentioned it as a tragedy."
"No, there was no train on it. And it did not fall completely. A section fell and put stress on the rest. Repairs have been tricky, but the railroad put a lot of men on it and it will be finished soon. Two more weeks, three…Then the train will be back and things will pick up around here, I hope."
"Okay. Thanks, Langston, although it makes me nervous when an undertaker wishes for things to 'pick up'." They both laughed and Chuck left beneath the tinkling bell.
Chuck napped after making a bacon sandwich and eating it, his makeshift lunch from breakfast remains he found in the kitchen. Mrs. Fitzsimmons was out; Chuck presumed she was walking with the sheriff.
Chuck woke up in the late afternoon, washed up, and walked toward The Bar None. He stopped, hoping to talk Devon into coming too, but Chuck got no answer to his knock. It was possible that Devon was on a medical call outside the town - but if he was, Nehi would be with him, and Chuck would have no company.
The railroad crowd was beginning to arrive. The noise level and intensity in and around the saloon had ratcheted up.
Chuck felt low, half-angry. The distemper, the hatred of earlier in the day had not left him, had only slightly receded. His puzzlement about Sarah's behavior and Casey's parting comment had further fouled his mood. The gut-wrenching topper was the news about Miss Reynolds.
He walked through the swinging doors out of the darkening afternoon and into the blazing lights and music. The saloon was full, almost every seat was taken at every table. Men were playing cards, smoking, and drinking and laughing, and women, Anna Wu's workers in brightly colored dresses, moved around in the smoky brightness like butterflies near a fire.
Chuck saw Zondra draped on a tall man in a tall black hat. She was nuzzling his neck as he tried to look at his playing cards. His hand rested on her backside.
Carina was standing at the top of the stairs, talking intently to an intense, tiny and dark-haired woman in a jade silk dress. Anna Wu. Anna turned to look at Chuck, following Carina's surprised gaze. The two exchanged words, evidently about Chuck. Carina started down the stairs. Chuck met her at the bottom.
"Boston. Haven't seen you since...the week began."
"Yes, I'm sorry you left so quickly."
"My errand was spoiled, I'm afraid, by the blonde in the gray habit. Miss Sarah Walker, I take it?"
"Um, yes, do you know her?"
"No. I have seen her once from an upstairs window. And little Anthony Rizzo told me about an angel who accompanied you to the Fall Festival. He could talk of little else, all white and gold and dancing. It seems he hid under a wagon, watched the two of you. But his story didn't make it sound like the two of you were involved. In fact," Carina was talking too quickly for Chuck to get a word in, "isn't she also involved, as in engaged, with David Shaw's son?"
"We aren't involved, Carina. I don't know what happened in my room, but we are not involved."
She gave him a cool, appraising look, shaking her head. "You're a greenhorn, Boston, no doubt, but you can't be that clueless. You two are involved, even if you both deny it. I saw the way she looked at you - and the way she looked at me. And the way you looked at her." She paused. "I'm not happy about it but I am also not big on living under an illusion, like certain others." She finished with a pointed look at Chuck.
Before he could respond, she started again. "But this isn't just bad news for me, Boston. It's bad news for you. Daniel Shaw: I don't know him but a couple of the girls here have worked under him, and he - let's just say, I've been told he likes to hurt the one he loves."
Chuck felt his heart plummet into his stomach even as he seethed. Shaw had hurt women here too. He was going to marry Sarah.
Anna Wu had come down the stairs and heard the last comment, the one about Shaw. She shrugged. "He pays extra. There's never been any permanent damage, just some bruising."
Carina gave Anna a baleful stare. "Like that makes it okay? I've told you, don't let him near me or I will cut it off him and feed the wormling to him."
Anna glared at Carina. "You are supposed to work for me, so you take orders from me. The customer's pleasure dictates." She let that hang in the air a second. "But this probably doesn't matter. He's been on his best behavior since he got engaged. He's not been upstairs once."
"Who hasn't been upstairs?" Zondra asked, joining them and looking at Chuck. Across the room, the tall, black- and tall-hatted man was still playing at cards,
"Daniel Shaw," Carina said, giving Zondra a look.
"Zondra," Chuck said before Zondra could respond, "I have something for you."
He pulled the envelope out of his pocket that Anthony had given him. "The money is all still there. I thank you, but I can't accept it."
Zondra reddened instantly, her eyes flashed. She hissed: "What, you're too good to accept the money I earned on my back? It spends just the same, you bastard."
Carina whirled to glare at Chuck.
"No, no, Zondra," Chuck said, waving his hands at both. "I want to tutor Anthony for free, for you, as a favor, it has nothing, nothing at all to do with how you earned the money. I'm not your judge." Only my own. And Shaw's. "I'm helping you as a friend helps a friend. I may be teaching him, but I am doing it...personally, not professionally." Sarah flashed into his mind, their ride and talk.
Zondra calmed herself. "Oh, okay, Chuck. I'm sorry. But you should keep it. The money. Maybe you could use it to buy supplies for the school?"
Chuck thought about it, then agreed. He put the envelope back in his pocket. He noticed Anna Wu's sharp eyes follow it, and then shift back to Zondra.
"See ya, gotta get drinks for Stove Pipe over there. He thinks he's getting lucky at cards and later getting lucky with me, but with any luck, he'll be asleep in his mug before I have to make a call, and will already have spent enough to satisfy the boss." Zondra glanced at Anna and walked away. Anna Wu followed but she went behind the bar, while Zondra stayed in front and gave Jeff the drink order.
Chuck felt Carina's hand on his. "I'm not saying this because I'm jealous, even if I am. Let Sarah Walker go. She's had time enough to know the devil whose ring she wears, and she's chosen her fate. You can't save everyone, Boston, sometimes not even the ones you care about most - and sometimes they're the ones you have the least chance of saving."
She faced him, her eyes intense. "Let me save you. Listen to me. There are other women who could make you happy. Some of them might surprise you. A lot.
"Why chase one woman who's involved with two men at the same time. Let her go."
Chuck squeezed Carina's hand. "I'll try. I will."
She gave him a sad and sympathetic look. "I know. And I know you'll fail. It just goes that way, sometimes. Hearts have reasons reason doesn't comprehend."
Chuck's eyes widened. "Blaise Pascal? Really, Carina? I haven't thought about him for a long time."
Her mood shifted and she grinned. "I told you I read books with words, not just books with pictures. And that includes the ones translated from French. Well, most of them…Some of the French ones do have rather educational pictures."
"Well, well, well, we meet again, Mr. Bartowski."
Chuck turned to see Daniel Shaw. It was obvious immediately that Shaw had been drinking - and since he had just arrived, he had been doing it elsewhere. He weaved irregularly on his feet. Beside him stood another man. It took Chuck a second to place the man's face, but then Chuck knew him: he had been following Sarah the day she asked Chuck to go to the Festival. The pole-leaning lurker.
Carina moved in front of Chuck but turned to face him, her back to Shaw. She drew Chuck to her and kissed him passionately. Chuck stood limply, his arms dangling. Shaw could not really see that, however, and the kiss seemed to confuse him. It sent him toward the bar and away from Chuck.
Chuck shook his head, reorienting. "Um, thanks, Carina?"
"The sacrifices I make to keep you upright, Chuck. You really are a handful." She led Chuck to the other end of the bar, away from Shaw, and Chuck, to Carina's surprise, ordered a beer.
Once it was in his hand, and after a good long swallow, he asked Carina if she knew where Nehi was.
"With the Doc. That baby he delivered. There are complications. So Nehi took the Doc out there. Can you believe anyone thinks that man killed a woman? This town is a ship of fools."
Carina got a cup of coffee and stood to talk with Chuck for a while. He drank another beer. When he woke up that morning, he had wished for unfeelingness or for forgetfulness. He was finding it in liquid form. A third beer. He had never been a drinker, and the beer began to affect him quickly.
Shaw had been drinking fast and furious on the other end of the bar, eyeing Chuck. He came around to Chuck's end of the bar, elbowing Carina aside. "I don't know what you are playing at, teacher." Shaw looked at Carina with a leer. "But Sarah Walker set a date today. Summer. June. June. She wants to marry me in June. In ten goddamn months. And, I accepted it but when my father toasted us, she started crying, bawling, right there with me beside her, right in front of my father. Then she ran upstairs."
Shaw leaned toward Chuck, his face just an inch or two away, his words slurry but understandable. "Now, she'd been dragging her feet, and that's a woman's prerogative, but I was expecting a date this month, maybe next. She led me to believe that's what she had in mind. But then you show up in town, and she asks if you can take her to the Fall Festival. I think: he's a joke, sure, why not? It's like sending Sarah with another girl. But then she's out riding when she should be at home waiting for me, and she comes home trailing...you."
He leaned in closer and Chuck instinctively stepped back, but could only move a short distance. His back was against the bar.
"I'm not having this, schoolmarm. I'll not have my woman mooning over some book-loving tenderfoot. I tell you this once and this once only. If I ever see you so much as look at her again, I will make sure you regret it." He leaned closer, the whiskey on his breath filling Chuck's nostrils, and he added, in a whisper, "or I will make sure she regrets it." Shaw glanced at Carina, then returned his eyes to Chuck. "Or maybe I'll make sure everyone regrets it."
Shaw stepped back and wobbled.
His friend steadied him. He leaned forward and whispered once more into Chuck's ear, his hands on Chuck's shoulders. "Make one wrong move, and someone you care about will regret it. Eyes'll be on you all the time, schoolmarm. There's nowhere you can go in this town to get away from me." Shaw pointed to his own eyes with his index and middle finger making a 'Y', then he pointed the fingers at Chuck, almost poking them into Chuck's own eyes.
With that, Shaw and his friend left, the doors swinging behind them.
Chuck wondered if it were possible to kill a man twice.
The saloon had gone tomb-quiet. As the doors swung, it burst back into loud noise. Carina watched the doors swing, a hard, calculating look on her face. "Son of a bitch. He can't get away with that. What did he say to you, Chuck."
"Nothing."
Carina glared, turning her head to Chuck. "Sure, he whispered sweet nothings into your ear, because he loves you. Bullshit, Boston."
Chuck said nothing. Carina stomped her foot in frustration and repeated herself. "He can't get away with that."
Anna Wu spoke. She had moved to that end of the bar but was still on the other side. "Yes, he can." Not a challenge, just a registration of fact.
Chuck ordered two more beers and drank them quickly. Carina walked most of the way with him as he staggered back to Mrs. Fitzsimmons', but she had to get back to the saloon. "You need to stay away from The Bar None, Chuck, away from me. End of story." She returned the way the came.
After she left, Chuck stumbled through one of Mrs. Fitzsimmons' flowerbeds but managed to do no more damage.
The night was cloudy, dark. Chuck got to his room and stretched out on his bed.
He felt rubbery, vague, all over, stretched into some definite but unnameable shape. He stared up at the ceiling. The ceiling stared down at him.
He couldn't seem to get the memory-odor of Shaw's breath out of his nose. It mixed with the memory-odor of Miss Reynold's corpse.
Chuck felt like he was going to vomit. Laying perfectly still, he outlasted the nausea, and as it subsided, he fell asleep.
His room was dark. Pitch black. But Chuck was awake; awake, but unsure why.
Then he knew. Movement awakened him. Someone was moving around in his room. He stayed absolutely still.
The bed moved. Chuck felt someone climb onto the bed.
He cracked his eyes. He could see no one.
Then he saw; his eyes began to adjust. He saw her - or saw her face. Her blonde hair. Her blue eyes. The blue ringed red from crying.
It was as if she were bodiless, her body part of the dark - as if only her face existed, or it seemed so until she leaned her torso against his, rested her head on his shoulder.
He felt the cool, the cool air. The window, his window was open.
She was impossibly warm against him. "I'm so sorry, Chuck. I shouldn't be here but I…I had to come...I couldn't stay away. One last time..." She kissed him gently then put her head back down. She was quiet for a moment.
"I had to do it...have to do it, Chuck. Pretend. My dad...Today, I set a date in June. I thought anything could happen between now and then, the way you have happened. But David Shaw, he stayed after Daniel left...Dad...I have to move the date to next month, the end of October." She sobbed against him, her body shaking.
"I thought maybe I could do it, pretend...pretend to love Daniel. I...know how to pretend. I have pretended…" She stopped, choking.
Her voice shrank as she went on. "Maybe I could have done it...if you hadn't come to Idaho Falls...But I can't pretend with you near, Chuck, so real, making my pretense impossible. You must stay away from me. I must stay away from you.
"It's not just the pretending. The Shaws have an army of men, heavily armed, mounted. Most of the men who work for Dad don't even own a gun; they herd sheep. Most don't ride. Constance and Nehi cannot turn back an army."
Chuck finally moved. He put his arms around her.
He felt her tremble. Then she was still for a moment.
"If David or Daniel believes I...care for you, they will...hurt you. Physically, or some way. I can't let that happen to you. You're good. What you are doing here, what you represent here, it's important.
"So, in the morning, we have to be done with each other. I was right to send my letter and...wrong, weak, to follow it, to try to take it back. To talk to you today. But sending that letter felt like amputating part of myself..." She kissed him again, long and slow and deep. Then she kissed him over and over quickly, hungrily.
At last, she pulled her head back so that he could just make out her face, her eyes. "You must think I am crazy or cruel or both. I'm sorry, Chuck. You see, I was at the house when they brought your application materials to my Dad. They left them with me. Dad was away, hunting, overnight. I read your application and then I read it again - and again.
"The letters about you...touched me. Your letter about yourself touched me. Did you know your sister sent a letter?" Chuck shook his head, a little lost.
"She did and it is the one that...did me in. I...I had been...I was...waiting for you to come to Idaho Falls, Chuck. Hoping that you would be the man on those pages. And you are that man, that man, and more. I didn't believe a man like you could exist. But I can't have you, Chuck, not even if...you want me. I can't. I've got no choice…" Chuck pressed his hand to her lips.
The nearness of her. Her body pressed to his. The scent of her, routing the memory-odors that had sickened him. It was all wonderful, all too much. He was still half-drunk, and reeling again.
"I do want you, Sarah."
He felt her squeeze him hard. "Hold me, then. This is all we have, all we get. It has to last."
They held each other in silence. Then she spoke. Her voice sounded far away, almost as if someone else were speaking.
"I told Dad that if I marry Daniel, the service will be a burial, not a marriage, that if I have to walk down the aisle, he should bring my coffin along."
Chuck squeezed her hard and they held each other, holding on for dear life, trying to hold onto the night, dreading the light. After a time, they were both asleep.
Chuck woke to the throbbing of his head. Boom, boom, boom. Slow-time funeral march.
He felt caged inside a bass drum. His lips were dry. He licked them. He thought of her, of Sarah, thought he tasted her. Instantly, he rolled over. The bed was empty.
He glanced down at himself. He was wearing the clothes he had worn to The Bar None. His boots were off, but he could not remember removing them. But most of the evening was muddy and out of focus. He could remember Carina, and a confrontation with Daniel Shaw.
And Sarah. In his room, in his bed, in his bed, holding him and being held.
He sat up. The throbbing worsened. He looked around the room. There was no evidence that Sarah had actually been there. The bed was mussed but he could have done that, tossing and turning alone. A dream, it had been a dream.
He rubbed his temples. And then he noticed that his room had changed.
His Swedenborg had been on his nightstand. He kept it there. It was gone.
A black cowboy hat, upside down, lay on the floor below his window.
Chuck thought of Moby Dick, of Ishmael at the end, clutching a coffin on endless waters: And I only am escaped alone to tell thee. Chuck was not exactly alone, but he felt like it.
End of
Book One:
Bring My Coffin Along
Heaven and Hell
A/N2: More to come in Book Two: The Hells Are Everywhere. Soon to appear on electronic screens everywhere. Er, um, here and there.
Let's call roll. Let me know if you are present; drop me a line. I hope you've enjoyed Book One and are as excited for Book Two as I am!
There will be a brief intermission between Book One and Book Two. Intermission Music: Wild West Music Whistle - check it out on Youtube!
- Zettel Grey