Chapter Three
I was ashamed of myself. Completely ashamed.
It took a coupla hours after the saloon opened back up before I could lift my head away from the table. When I finally was able to raise it without feeling like I was gonna upend my entire night's party, I couldn't look the bartender in the eye. As it turned out, I was finding it kinda difficult to look anybody straight on.
Testing my feet's ability to stand, I kept hold of the chair beside me and took a step. Down there worked, but I can't say so much about the parts from my belt buckle on up. There musta been a rattlesnake coiled around my stomach and with each angry rattle of its tail, my belly and all its neighboring parts tightened even further. If only that'd been my only encounter with such a creature. Sometime when I was outta it, that blamed sidewinder musta took a leap and clamped its fangs across my tongue. It felt dry, dull and dumb. My brain, even worse.
Bending down, swaying rather roughly as I did, I grabbed my hat that'd fallen off and clapped it onto my skull. Dadgum, that hurt.
The supportive chair gone, I staggered toward the door, making it only a coupla feet across the floor before both hands slid up my unshaven cheeks to rest on my temples. What was wrong with me? Yeah, yeah, I know. A hangover. And a rather ugly one to boot. What I meant was what made me keep pouring the firewater down my throat in the first place? I'd already told myself that whiskey wasn't gonna change the facts. And then I went and poisoned myself with it anyway.
Still unable to meet my blue with his brown, I barely turned toward the bow-tie and apron behind the counter. "There was a coupla men in here last night. Bill and Harry. Don't know their last names."
"Yeah. I remember serving the pair. What about them?"
"Where'd they go?"
"I heard Harry say Laramie. Bill, I reckon he went home."
"Thanks," I said, my ache growing worse as I gave my head a shake.
My memory catching up a little, I closed my eyes. So that was why I chose to go the whole distance. Slim. My replacement. My pain.
Dadgum.
Staggering through the batwings, I looked for my horse, grateful that his reins hadn't been untied sometime in the night and then made the first part of my apology stick by giving his flank a pat. "Sorry, Son. I kinda got lost in my misery."
The saddle underneath me, I pulled Traveler away from the busy storefronts and urged him in whichever direction had the narrowest trail. It was kinda north, northwest, but if I was gonna make an actual aim for Montana, Idaho or Oregon, that remained undecided. Maybe tomorrow my horse would choose east. The next day after that, we could be Mexico bound. It didn't matter, as long as I was riding somewhere. But then my fingers couldn't help to feel inside my pocket. Since I couldn't remember how much of my money I'd gotten drunk on, I needed to take a recount.
I reckon where I really needed to ride was somewhere that was hiring.
If my whiskey-washed memory was being wrung out properly, then I remembered one of those fellas say that there wasn't any work around here except for short stints. That might not change my drifter's status, but then again, a day or two here and there didn't sound so bad, especially since I didn't wanna settle down. More'n likely, nobody'd want me to anyway. Everywhere I go I get kicked or beat. If it ain't by a friend or foe, then I do a pretty good job at it myself.
My hand reaching for my head, I pushed my hat up a notch and rubbed my thumb across the tight band that was sitting there. Yeah, I did a pretty good job at it myself. Dadgum.
Since I kinda neglected giving Traveler the proper feed to keep him going well into the afternoon, I didn't keep much of a pace. Stopped at an open meadow so he could graze, I leaned against a tree trunk and tried to close my eyes. They mighta been bloodshot, but I reckon they'd been clamped down for too many hours in the night to wanna drift low and stay that way now.
Oh, well. There was something else that'd likely do me better'n sleep. I'd felt sick for hours, but now that the gurgle was starting to wane, I figured I better put something solid in me. I had no coffee, no bacon, no hardtack, but I had matches and bullets. There were sticks everywhere, which meant I could make a spit. And right in front of me was the kinda creature that could perform that delicate spin. My gun out, I found the proper place so that my meal wouldn't feel the cut of the bullet and then I pulled the trigger.
The rabbit was roasting a short time later, with its juices spitting and sputtering on the flames below it. I didn't realize how hungry I was until I tasted the first bite. You'd think I was some ravenous wolf the way my teeth tore into the meat. Chunk after chunk going down, I started to clean my dripping chin off with the back of my hand. But before I took that final lick, my head started angling to the south.
A horse called out. Mine naturally answered and suddenly I was on my feet, my right hand filled with iron. Yeah, it coulda been somebody out drifting just like me, but I'd been walking an unworn path for long enough to know what kinda rider was really out there. Someone was following me.
My greasy fingers given a rub across my shirt, I suddenly paused mid-wipe. So that was what'd done it. To somebody out snooping my whereabouts, my dinnertime shot was about the same as me standing on a hilltop, waving both arms and shouting, "Here I am!" Dadgum my greedy hide. In less than a day's time, it's come close to doing me in twice. I was gonna make sure it didn't come any closer.
My fire kicked out in a coupla stomps, I leapt onto my horse and wanting to be on the kinda ground that didn't leave marks, I turned toward the nearby rocks. Every clop sounded loud in my ears and after a mile of the solid terrain, I debated going back to where a horseshoe made an imprint. I gave the ground below and to each side of me a long look. When my eyes turned toward my rearview, I let out a low whistle. He was still coming.
He was being smart though. Not sticking direct in my path, but keeping himself tucked along the ridge where the shadows played with his appearance, it made him far too dark to put a name on him. However, there was one thing I could notice from this distance. He was holding a rifle, positioned up as if the butt was resting on his thigh. That told me this fella only had one ambition, to use the business end of that rifle whenever he got a good eye on me.
I was in no mood to let him.
Seeing a stream flowing in the opposite direction of where the stranger rode, I gave Traveler a firm kick and met the water with a splash. It was just as I'd hoped for. With it shallow enough to wade through and having enough twists and turns, my back'd never be wide open. Even though I knew it wasn't being targeted at that moment, my shoulders twitched anyway. That musta meant he'd taken the same turn as me.
Dadgum.
While my mind had turned over an entire group of names, the one I kept repeating was Heckard Channing. Although any of the fellas that'd put their fist against my teeth coulda been on my trail, he's the only man that'd actually threatened my life. But then I had another thought coming close to making my tingling backside turn into an all-out shiver. If the law really was involved in my sudden flee from Laramie, then it could be a star in my shadow. Or something worse. A bounty hunter just might be out sniffing for the scent of my hide. A lotta those fellas didn't care if the price tag was real or not, they just aimed to collect. The deadlier the aim, the better.
With another meandering stream joining the one I was riding through, the water was starting to deepen. I could hear just up ahead that there was also gonna be a change of flow around this next bend. Since I didn't want my horse stumbling through rapids, I hadta get out. This was where I truly wished I could see past the green canopy that surrounded me. If whoever was in my steps knew this country better'n me, he could be waiting right through the rocky opening I was gonna be taking with his rifle in a steady point.
Pulling my long iron free, I gave it permission to fire and then turned Traveler toward the bank. The rise up took longer than I figured. There musta been a flood through here during the spring thaw and what looked like a path with solid footing was actually unstable ground. Hind hooves sinking in, I felt as if I my backside was slipping away from the saddle and both hands crashed onto the pommel to keep me attached. I stayed in place, all right, but I hadta make a certain sacrifice to do so. My rifle falling down, it tumbled close to the water's edge as Traveler found the oomph to jump outta the lower ground to where it was more stable. Or so I thought.
Hearing a click, my right hand crept upward until it was no longer in easy reach of my hip. "Before you shoot, I wanna know what this is all about."
It was eerie, the silence that I got in return. At least there was something else to listen to, otherwise I mighta chafed right outta my seat. The breeze was making the leaves shake, birds were in a constant chatter with one another, the creek was splashing against an untold amount of rocks and somewhere far off in the distance an eagle cried. But through all of nature, I couldn't point out my enemy. Where was he? The unease spreading through my veins, I realized I couldn't even hear my breaths. But I shoulda heard another's. Anyone out to kill me woulda been internally going wild.
My head turned far enough so that my eyes could greet whoever was behind me. There was no one there. Did I really just fall victim to some unsteady nerves or was there someone hiding in the brush? Traveler making a slight movement I heard the second click and looked down. No, there wasn't a gun pointed up at me from the earth's floor. It was only a stick underneath a hoof, mimicking the sound of a hammer going down.
Dadgum.
I ran my hand through my hair, but maybe I shoulda given my skull a hard tap instead. In truth, there really was no reason to punish myself. I knew why I was on edge. Sure, someone was trailing me, but that ain't the solid truth. It's as simply and ugly as this. There wasn't anyone to look out after me anymore, to pick me up after a hard landing and scrape the dirt off my hide. I was alone, with no one to depend on but myself. Even though I'd lived this way before, it wasn't just an easy step back into a loner's life. I couldn't exactly forget what the last two years'd meant to me. I'd had a firm foundation. I'd had Slim. I reckon that's reason enough to know that I'd never be the same man again. I could have the same greased holster, the same amount of trouble in both hip pockets, but the inside of me, well, the pain was proof enough. I'd never be able to tread the Big Open the way I had before.
Because between the old days and now, I'd had Slim.
I tried to think of what Slim'd say to me if he'd just witnessed my weak moment, but no words with the sound of Slim's voice could make their way into my brain. Not even a good-natured chuckle could be heard. I know why. I woulda never mistaken a twig's crack for something worse if I'd had Slim with me.
The heavy sigh took me outta the saddle and back down the slope. My rifle tucked under my arm, I found a limb that had been swept aside during the water's rise and brushed at my tracks. The holes that Traveler'd made not as easy to mask, I went back to the creek's edge and pulled a coupla rocks outta the water. They didn't look completely natural where I placed them, but sliding some dirt around the stones at least made the view as if they'd been dropped there some time ago and not made by a desperate man trying to keep his path clear.
My final steps tamped out, I chucked the limb to where the water churned and then topped my mount. If only the next sound woulda been my edgy imagination all over again. The whinny was so loud, it even had an echo.
Whipping my head around, my rifle taking the same direction, I searched for the culprit. He was close, but horse and rider weren't where my eyes could find. For a moment I thought of just standing still, waiting for the inevitable to come rushing across the creek and strike me. Of course I'd do some firing of my own, but I knew what the chance was in him pulling the trigger first. And if I was gonna get buried this day, I wanted to know who was gonna be stomping on the shovel. I might never know why, but sure as blazes I was gonna know who.
I do a lotta assessing when I know there's danger lurking. I was pretty certain while I was coming outta the creek bottom that I saw a crop of rocks that looked like there was a sizable hole in the center that could pass for a cave's entry. Urging my horse to that height, I swept the terrain over with one glance. I was right and wrong. It wasn't a cave, but the opening was wide enough for a man to crouch in. Now I just had to hide my horse.
Fortunately there was a break between the boulders a little farther back from where I wanted to sit, just wide enough for a coupla trees to grow and keep a brown body concealed. Tying the reins to one of the limbs, I looked toward the creek bank to see if I had enough time to get in position. The rider wasn't in my sight yet, but if he came through the same opening I'd taken, I'd have less than thirty seconds left.
Rifle clutched tight, I hurried for the crevice and tucked into its shadows. And just like that, those seconds that I mentioned were all used up. My jaw was given a hard lock when I saw him. Heckard Channing. I reckon I'd made a right enough guess that he was the one, but what he was doing out here remained unclear. Being so far away from Laramie, there shouldn't be any reason him following me anymore, but as plain as his ugliness, there he was.
Dadgum, how I wanted to part his hair!
But giving him a skunk's stripe'd only point out where I was. I'll admit my rifle lined up with his hat, except that's as far as I was gonna take my desire. My finger didn't reach for the trigger.
Watching Heckard ride outta sight, I wondered how soon he was gonna learn I wasn't on that same path anymore. I hoped I had long enough to get back in the creek and play the role of retreat awhile. I'd count myself successful if he returned to that point of exit, scratching his head as he tried to figure out where he'd gone wrong.
Rifle still in hand, I hopped back into leather and made a swift trot for the creek. Traveler didn't wanna go straight in, so I held him up to drink. That's when I saw the second man. He'd been following Heckard's line, not mine, and through the waving branches I watched the man's outline getting larger. He, too, was wearing a rifle out front. That was enough view for me.
Dadgum, with more'n one man after me, that made any fight I was gonna put up that much harder to win. I reckon they had to catch me first before the bullets could start tearing holes through my flesh. Turning my head to make sure Heckard wasn't breathing down my neck, I got off my horse and splashed enough water on the dirt to hide his tracks. And then with a tug on the reins, I pulled him straight into the creek, hurrying so we'd be around the second bend in the stream before the unknown enemy passed on by.
Water rushing up to my knees, I kept us still, slowly counting the minutes until I figured enough time'd gone by for me to claim a larger measure of safety. Giving Traveler a pat, I then urged him out, purposely going through a deep trench of mud so we'd leave an obvious trail. Onto some rocks, I brushed every hoof mark away and then circled back into the creek. I was gonna give those fellas quite the headache when I was done here.
I made a total of six false trails and then right around the time normal folk sit down to the supper table, I found the perfect getaway. I was at somebody's property line. The "No Trespassing" sign stared at me kinda hard, though. Dadgummed memories. But once I realized I was also staring at some good fortune, I was able to smile. Whoever owned this ranch had cut his feed maybe a week earlier. There was still some chaff on the ground that his cattle hadn't slicked up yet. Once I eased my horse through the gate, I wouldn't leave a single track, and even if I did, it could be dismissed as belonging to the ranch owner, not a man looking for an escape. As long as I didn't run into that ranch owner, I could make that escape rather clean.
A hill rounded, I saw the cattle milling around a pond. Only one looked up as I rode by. That escape was looking better by the minute. It was only about five more of them that I came to the other side of the property, and as this fence line was bordered by a road, I knew I could stop looking behind me.
While I don't mind keeping the miles moving after dark, I really wanted someplace to settle for this one. By the amount of wagon tracks with hooves to match ahead of me, I figured there was a town within range. Last night I'd made a mistake. Tonight I was gonna make a better choice and I pulled my mount away from where lanterns glowed and whiskey flowed.
There wasn't anything that could be called a trail to my left. All I could tell in the dimming light was that there was a crop of rocks, rather tall against the skyline, maybe seven miles out. Six, if I was lucky, but then again, considering how my life's taken a sudden unlucky turn, I should expect it to be eight. Whatever distance it'd turn out to be, I wanted to set up camp at the center rock.
It was dark halfway there. I debated pulling up. I've always taken better care of my mount than I do of myself and if I kept going on a trail that didn't even exist, there was a threat of Traveler going lame. If I hadn't entered a stand of trees, I'd be able to get a better view of what was around me. But dadgum, the stumps were getting thicker.
I'd already decided to stop, but even if I hadn't, my senses woulda start crying the tune of a mosquito's whine direct in my ear. I wasn't alone out here and my pistol nearly leapt into my hand.
There was a scent of smoke ahead of me. Like what came outta stove pipe, although it ain't no steady stream. This was more like a remnant, as if the fire'd burned earlier in the day and the sparks had been allowed to go dark.
I couldn't help but think of Heckard Channing and whoever his companion would turn out to be. I reckon that's why my gun was already poised to fire if anything flinched the wrong way. But my thoughts also wanted to think on the smart side of things and not allow my imagination to run outta control. I'd gone in circles most of the afternoon. There ain't no way they coulda jumped this far ahead. It hadta be somebody else. But then I had a new thought. Whoever had lit that fire and then blew it out could be just as undesirable to meet as either of those two.
Dismounting, I left Traveler between two trees. It'd be easier to survey the goings on around me on foot. Keeping my thumb resting on the hammer as I walked, I listened for any kinda movement. For a moment, all I heard was my own feet hitting the earth's floor but then I heard a leaf rustle. It was no wind. Strange that there could be a difference, but there was enough distinction in the movement that I put the barrel of my gun in a precise point toward the flutter.
Someone was there, all right. He either saw my gun or sensed it, for his next step was a quick one. The moment a door whined its opening and then its closure, I could see the front two steps leading up to a small porch. While I coulda squinted at the dark lines that made up the door, my eyes jumped to the window. There wasn't any glass in the square.
Trying to take my next move in silence, I held my breath. My heart running through my chest with the rapid click of a locomotive's wheels was the only sound. That, and the drop of my hammer, but that was as far as my pistol would go. A shotgun's nose was making its way toward my face.
"I'd imagine if you were going to use that, you would've already pulled the trigger."
"I don't usually fire when I'm that close to someone else's iron."
"Oh." A flash of teeth shone behind the barrel. "I'll take it down if you do the same."
"Sure," I said, spinning the revolver so it made a fast drop to my hip. "Sorry. I didn't know there was anybody out here."
"There ain't," he said, gun absent as he walked out the door.
I stared at the man, wearing enough red in his skin to tell me he was part Indian. "Ain't you here?"
"I was already planning on leaving when you rode in. And just to make your brows less furrowed, it ain't my shack in the first place. Nobody owns it. Whoever once called it home quit these parts a long time ago."
"Then I reckon that Mr. Nobody'd care if I set my bedroll down for a night or two."
"He never bothered me."
"Good. That's the kinda company I prefer," I said, reaching for his outstretched hand for a shake. "How come you're lighting out after dark?"
"I like to move quietly. The night allows me to."
"I reckon I know what you mean."
Hand outta mine, he raised both eyebrows. "You in trouble?"
"Some."
He nodded into the distance. "Is it following you?"
"It was earlier. I reckon by now, it's lost my scent."
"You've picked a good place, then. It's kept me safe many times."
Now it was my turn to raise my brows. "You a wanted fella?"
He almost chuckled. "No. More like an unwanted one. Some men don't want my kind around. They say the mix of red and white doesn't mix well."
"Some men spend too much time measuring what's on the outside instead of what's on the inside."
"You sound as if you speak from experience."
The pain in my chest grew a bit. "I reckon."
"I can tell by the lines around your eyes that you're a wise man. Listening to you speak, I'd say the same. Wise men are usually good men."
I shook my head. "You'd get a lotta arguments there."
His own head was given a shake. "You're too hard on yourself. I know what I see. I know what I hear."
"Dunno."
"Well, I best get my things."
"Why don't you stay another night? I promise I ain't a gabby fella, in my sleep or otherwise."
"No, but thank you. Like I said, I like the night for traveling."
"Don't you worry about your horse going lame?" I asked as he came back outta the shack with a small sack over one shoulder and his shotgun tucked under the other arm. "That's the real reason I stopped when I did."
"Every step is taken with the same great care as if I made it myself. Together we make no sound, we blend into the darkness and we almost always follow the wind. I've found that the earth's call never lets me down."
"I reckon you're better equipped than I am. I've had me a time ever since I first rode out."
"Where're you from?"
The sigh was soft, but definitely there as I stared at the stars. Not any in particular direction. I was just staring.
"Mister?"
"I ain't from anywhere."
"That's a good place to be," he said as he got into the saddle, the leather seat just as black as his mount. "Take care, my friend. Take great care in wherever that anywhere takes you."
I nodded as he started to ride away. Once he was outta sight, I lowered my head, the weight kinda heavy against my frame. I reckon that cut it. Cut it so deep that it was ripped right outta my soul. Laramie was gone.
But not forgotten.