Earthbound (5 page)

“Mm-hmm,” I muttered. As we mounted our
horses, I realized something about Pace. He was brave enough, or
foolish enough, to follow me into the Old City. He was ready to
throw down with Boze. Maybe he wasn’t as much of a pussy as I
thought.

“You got pretty good taste in women,” I said.
“But Becca’s different. You got it?”

“I do,” he replied with a friendly smile. “I
can’t promise to keep my hands off of her, but I will promise to
treat her right.”

“I’ll be watchin’.”

We nodded to each other with grudging
respect, then rode off our separate ways. I returned to my house –
my father’s empty shack. I allowed myself to fall down onto my cot,
which groaned under my weight. I had an hour or so to sleep, but I
knew I wouldn’t be able to. My mind was too alive. So I just laid
there. Wondering why. Why didn’t I just let her leave the saloon
with Pace. Why did I torture myself this way?

I don’t want you to get the
wrong idea. Even though it was
my idea to become an outlaw,
I like an honest day’s work. I really do. I’m not one of these
guys, like Pace, who can’t stand to get his nails dirty. Hell, I
don’t even know when I’ve seen my nails clean. I would’a been all
right staying out on the ranch, herding cattle. It’s not that bad
really. Well, mucking out the stalls isn’t my favorite. And I don’t
get too involved in the birthing. That’s not my thing. But I pretty
much like the rest of it. I used to work the cows, but now that I’m
bigger I’m almost always working the bison. They’re pretty content
creatures. So long as they’ve got plenty of water and pasture,
they’re not likely to worry a fence. Course that doesn’t mean they
won’t jump one. If they’ve got a mind to it, a bison can jump six
feet from a cold start. I didn’t believe it myself ‘til I’d seen
it. And when that happens on occasion, I’ve gotta ride out and
chase down the runaways. Sounds easy, sounds fun, but it’s actually
pretty deadly work. I saw one guy get gored pretty bad. It was his
fault though – too slow to get out of the way. They might not look
it, but bison are fast. If you aren’t smart enough to stay out of
their way, you can get trampled. No doctor can patch that up.

Most days aren’t that exciting, I’ll give you
that. Shearing bison is kind of boring, but their hair makes the
warmest hats and coats you ever wore. Helps on the really cold
nights when you don’t have enough firewood. Snow can’t melt on
their coats – did you know that? Maintaining their wallow isn’t
that fun either. It’s pretty disgusting. And when the time comes, I
transport the “lucky ones” down to the slaughterman. I’ve given
hand to the kills on occasion. I have a talent for it. It takes
precision to put the knife in the exact spot, and then end their
life with one swift stroke. I’m not partial to the butchering that
follows, however, but I can do it if I have to. That’s a lot of
detail work and it smells. I once held a bison’s heart in my hand.
Didn’t eat much for the next few days.

On most days I’m out in the pasture, riding
Charon, the brim from my hat keeping the sun out of my eyes. I know
how to rile up the herd if I need to, and I’m smart enough to stay
out of their way. I think they like me. Or at least they’re used to
me, I dunno. Maybe they know I protect them. Wolf packs can take
down an isolated bison if they surround it, believe it or not.

Anyway, I could’ve stayed on the ranch.
Worked hard for my gold coins, spend ‘em at night at the saloon and
call it a life. But if I kept doing that, I’d die alone. I knew
that back then. Even if I married someone out of necessity, we
wouldn’t wind up growing old together. Something would happen. I’d
get shot in the back someday, or gored by a bull when my body
started moving too slowly. No, if I wanted to die with someone at
my side, my best bet was with Pace. And we know how that’s gonna
turn out. Hah.

In the nights following our trip to the Old
City with Becca, I’d see Pace at the saloon. He’d try to continue
where we left off the other night but I made it clear that wasn’t
gonna happen. He’d send over a drink, I’d send it back. He’d flirt
with some girl, I’d make sure he knew I was watching. Becca didn’t
show herself during that time. I figured she purposely knew to stay
away, cause there was no telling what might happen if we got
together again.

On one of those nights, the saloon was a
little less busy than usual. I didn’t pay much attention. I was
kinda happy I guess that there weren’t many Nuggets there to cause
trouble. Not that I couldn’t handle it of course, but them not
being in the saloon made it easier I suppose. Pace wasn’t there
either. I remember feeling a little disappointed. But then I
reassured myself that suited me just fine. I just wanted to drink.
But I got interrupted when I slowly started to catch a whiff of
something floating through the air. Smoke. Okay, everyone’s burning
logs in their fireplace. We were just coming out of a harsh winter
and it was still plenty cold. But soon, that smoky aroma got
thicker. Something was burning. Something was burning down.

Most of us in the saloon stepped outside to
get a sense of what was on fire. To most people’s relief, it wasn’t
Town Hall to the north. Their effing movie equipment was still
fine. No, the fire was coming from the west. People started running
in that direction, so I joined in. Wasn’t much of a joiner but it
was the most action we’d seen in some time. The smoke got thicker
as I ran. Started to see an orange glow on the horizon. And as I
neared it, I started to figure out something troubling. The fire
was coming from Pace’s family home. Or the half of it that was
still standing, I should say. It looked like the fire was spreading
across the back half of the house. Their barn was ablaze too.

At first I assumed it was an electrical fire,
since his was one of the few structures with working electricity.
But no, when I saw looters running out the front door, carrying
stolen belongings, I knew something was up. Wasn’t too surprised by
that I suppose, people wanting to steal from the wealthiest family
in town if they got the opportunity. But it also told me this
wasn’t some little kitchen fire. The whole place was comin’
down.

I looked around for Pace. Finally saw him
crumpled up on the ground. I thought maybe it was from smoke but no
– he’d been beaten up good. Somebody’d whacked him hard in the
face, right where he didn’t want to be hit. I helped him up to his
feet.

“You okay?” I asked. Stupid question.

Pace held his head, trying to get his
bearings. “I can’t… I can’t…” He sorta snapped back into
consciousness and started frantically looking around at the crowd
of looters. Didn’t seem to care about the effing crap they were
stealing. He had something more important on his mind. “My dad!
Have you seen my dad?” Adrenaline kicked in or something because
Pace started darting around looking for his father. I’d seen his
father around, knew what he looked like, but I didn’t seem him
either. Then Pace froze. He started at me for a second. Wasn’t sure
what was going on. “He must still be inside!” Then Pace turned and
just ran into the smoke and through his front door. And despite my
better instincts, I followed.

I’d never been inside his house before. It
was one of the few houses in town with two stories. It was near as
big as Town Hall. Mighty big for just two people, Pace and his
father. And opulent. I think that’s the word, if that means fancy,
I dunno.

My eyes burned immediately, and thick smoke
made it hard to breathe. But that didn’t stop Pace from shouting
out his father’s name. If he was still in there, we had to get him
out. A few looters – were they Nuggets? – smacked at Pace’s head
with some fireplace shovels and pokers that they were stealing. No,
they weren’t just stealing. They seemed angry. Pace took a swing at
a few of ‘em but didn’t connect. I did. Clocked ‘em pretty good,
knocked those shovels and pokers right out of their hands. I was
ready to take ‘em all on but they also seemed pretty eager to get
out of the house before the oxygen was gone.

It didn’t seem like a safe thing to do, but
Pace ran up the staircase. I followed blindly without thinking.
Smoke rises. If we wanted to die, we were going in the right
direction.

We ran through the upstairs hallway. Pace
stuck his head in each room as he passed. I glanced inside one room
and saw model airplanes hanging from the ceiling, catching fire. It
must’ve been Pace’s bedroom, but he didn’t stop to save anything.
Trophies or scrapbooks or whatever. He just let his boyhood
burn.

We reached a closed door. Smoke was billowing
out from underneath. You’re supposed to check a door in that
situation to see if it’s hot, but instead Pace just put his weight
into it. Door didn’t budget so I shoved Pace out of the way and
knocked it open. Flames shot out at us and we narrowly dodged out
of the way. I pulled my shirt up to cover my mouth. It was
impossible to breathe.

Someone was lying on the floor. He wasn’t a
big man, probably about Pace’s height and weight, and he wore a
nice suit. The only place I ever saw someone wearing a suit was at
church, and I never went there anyway. Or at the bank. The bank
manager wore a suit. I helped Pace lift the man up and balanced him
on our shoulders as we bolted out of that bedroom and down those
stairs as fast as we could. There were no looters now in our way,
just fire. I don’t remember the next couple of seconds. I just
remember getting outside to the fresh air. We collapsed on the lawn
and coughed the smoke out of our lungs. Then we quickly turned our
attention to the man we had rescued – Pace’s father.

Pace checked for breathing and there was
none. He started giving him mouth-to-mouth, but that didn’t seem to
be working either. By then, a crowd of onlookers surrounded us.
None lent their aid of course. They were just curious. Probably
disappointed that they got there too late to loot.

Just as Pace stomped his fists on his
father’s chest in frustration, the town doctor made his way through
the crowd and took over. He tried to resuscitate Pace’s father for
a few minutes, but then after a brief examination he looked up to
Pace with soulful eyes.

“Sorry son. There’s nothing I can do for
him.”

Pace yelled back with anger. “Why not? It’s
just smoke! Get him on a respirator!”

“It’s not from the fire,” the doctor
explained. He leaned Pace’s father up by the shoulders and pointed
to the back of his head. “It’s from gunshot.”

Sure enough, there was a gaping hole in the
back of his father’s head. I looked at Pace and for the first time
realized he was covered in blood. I looked down at my hands. So was
I.

Pace broke down and cradled his father’s
head. The doc and I shooed away the onlookers to give my friend
some privacy. I didn’t know what to say.

Pace clutched at a thin silver chain hanging
loosely around his father’s neck. The chain had broken and a few
links fell off to the ground. He squeezed that chain as his hand
balled into a fist. “They took it…” he muttered.

“Took what?” I said. In that moment I
couldn’t think of anything they’d take that would matter under the
circumstances.

“My father used to wear my mother’s wedding
ring around his neck, on this chain. It’s the only thing of hers
left that mattered to him. And they took it. Those effing animals
took it!”

I wondered if that’d been what got his father
shot. Clinging to the ring, not wanting them to take it. That could
get a man shot in the face I suppose.

I knelt down alongside Pace. Didn’t say
anything more. I was just gonna be there for him. If he needed
someone to kill for him to get revenge, I’d do it. We were both now
orphans. That’s what orphans do for each other, I suppose.

The funeral was sparsely attended. I went, of
course. I didn’t have anything appropriate to wear so I was just
gonna put on my cleanest overalls, but one of Pace’s relatives came
by with a black suit in my size, more or less. It was the first
time I’d ever worn anything like that. I had no idea how to handle
the tie, and I knew I mangled it.

I stood alongside Pace as he looked at the
coffin stoically, as the preacher rambled on and on about God’s
will or whatever. Yeah, I don’t think it’s God’s will for an
unarmed man to get shot in the head. The words irritated me, but I
took my direction from Pace. He just stood there. I don’t think he
was listening. After the service everyone shook Pace’s hand and
said their regrets. And soon after, it was just me and him and his
father’s grave.

A little while later we headed to the
courthouse where the judge was pretty much expecting us.

“Sorry ‘bout your loss,” the judge said
through his fat lips. I didn’t believe him.