Haints Stay (22 page)

“I don't want her fooling with those ponies,” said the man. “I aim to
sell them.”

“She just wanted to meet them,” said Bird.

“I don't want her fooling with them. If you go get her, and put that
pistol away, we'll give you some supper and I can hitch you into town in the
morning.”

“Where will we sleep ?”

“We've got furs and a floor,” said the man.

“I'd just as soon sleep out here,” said Bird.

“In the mud ?”

Bird nodded.

“Fine by me,” said the man. “Now go get your wife and tell her not to
fool with those ponies.”

Brooke made himself useful. He answered to Wendell, but more than
that, he aided Marston and Clay when he was done with any particular assigned task.
He dug the fire pits — they often had two or three going a night. He dug latrines
and led the more troublesome horses. He offered rest to the weary. He offered bits
of the food he caught, a bite of rabbit to the youngest girl after he and his wife
were fed. He fell in line with their party, and they absorbed him. His wife was
slowly recovering. Some mornings, she rose and walked with him. Other days, she
spent alone in the shade and relative comfort of the wagon.

Soon, they came upon the large rocks Brooke had not forgotten. Jack
spotted the wreckage, and he, Marston, and Clay rode out to investigate it. The
others rested. The boys reported that it was a hired stagecoach, containing several
corpses. There had likely been a robbery. There were no tracks, and the corpses were
far gone. Whoever had taken down the stagecoach had emptied it of whatever contents
were of value and were now gone from the area. It was likely that the wagon train
was safe from harm, and that they should continue as they had been.

“Did you investigate the rocks ?” said Wendell. “Did you check for
caves ?”

“We found two caves,” said Marston. “They were empty. There was yellow
water in one and we filled the reserve canteens.”

“You shouldn't drink yellow water,” said Wendell.

“We've marked them for emergencies only,” said Marston.

They set on again.

That night, Brooke boiled the yellow water and strained
it through several layers of fabric and sand. It cleared slightly. The smell lifted.
He drank a small amount in front of Wendell to show that it was trustworthy. The
party waited one day, kept an eye on Brooke, who showed no signs of suffering or
discontent. By the end of the day, they were sipping from the reserve canteens.
Wendell sent Marston back to the cave to fill anything that could be capped. There
was no telling when they would encounter water again. They had left the creek some
days before, and now the only water was that which gathered in muddy puddles along
their path, and sprang from the occasional hoof print. Brooke volunteered to ride
with Marston.

They took the two fastest horses. It was not far at all to back-track
without the wagons and the slow pace of their train. As they reached the stagecoach,
Marston did not pause, but Brooke slowed his ride.

“What do you think they were transporting ?” said Brooke.

“Gold,” said Marston. “Or someone influential. Perhaps a gang leader or a
prisoner or a political figure. The men were armed. They wore holsters and pouches.
Whatever it was is gone, though. The cave's to the left. In that larger of the two
red rocks.” He gestured with the reins of his horse in the direction he was
headed.

Brooke dismounted and examined the stagecoach. It was nearly
unrecognizable with all the weather had done.

“Must have been gold,” Brooke yelled to Marston. “The back seat is a
hollowed bench, emptied.”

Marston was just beyond earshot. He signaled for Brooke to join him, so
Brooke mounted his horse and rode to meet the man.

“The back seat is a hollow bench,” said Brooke.

“So it was gold,” said Marston.

“Looks like,” said Brooke.

“Imagine,” said Marston, “even if it were still all there to be
collected, Wendell would not allow us to take it.”

“Why's that ?”

“Too heavy. An unnecessary burden. We would be sore to leave it but he
would figure it the same as if we had never found it.”

“And you all listen to him ?”

“Always have,” said Marston.

“And he brought you out here ?”

“It was a group decision. It is this one,” said Marston. They entered the
cave, filled all they had to fill, and climbed back upon their horses.

“But it was his idea ?” said Brooke.

“Wendell has fond memories of Wolf Creek,” said Marston. They rode at a
good clip for some time then, slowed when they spotted the wagon train in the
distance.

“And what did you think ?” said Brooke.

“That it would not be as he remembered it,” said Marston. “But we were
out of money and nothing would grow, so we needed a new plan.”

“You sold your land and headed out.”

Marston nodded. “Bought the wagons and what else we could with the
money.”

“What is Wolf Creek ?”

“A town in a valley. Small, fertile, lonesome. I've only heard stories.
Snows come in every so often and wreak all kinds of havoc. The valley'll fill up in
the worst of them. Heard a family died one winter, holding out for the snow to pass.
Most people use it as a place to stop off in between.”

“In between what ?”

“Where they're coming from and where they're going,” said Marston.
“There's water there. And cheap land. We don't have to stay forever.”

“How long have you been moving ?”

“A long time,” said Marston.

They were quiet then. They joined the train shortly after and
separated.

The woman Brooke met in the snow was up and walking alongside Irene.

“John has come back,” said Irene.

The woman looked at him, confused for a moment, and then smiled.

Brooke lowered himself from his horse and loaded the water into the back
of the wagon. That evening, he treated the water and sat with the woman he met in
the snow. She watched him and learned the routine, then set to treating some of the
water herself.

“It doesn't get rid of everything,” said Brooke, “but it tastes a little
better and the smell goes away.”

“Is it still dangerous ?”

“Not really,” said Brooke. “It might come out your far end a little
aggressively, but you'll recover and it won't happen again. Your stomach gets
stronger like an arm.” He flexed.

“You are not John,” she said.

“I know,” said Brooke.

“I do not know you.”

“We met by the creek while you were wandering. I was wandering too,” said
Brooke. “You saved my life.” He poured the water slowly and steadily over the
handmade filter.

“I remember,” she said.

“Who was John ?” he said.

“My husband,” she said.

“Where is John ?” he said.

“Gone.”

He nodded.

“Why didn't you tell them ?”

“I am tired,” she said. “They trust us. They like you. You have not asked
much of me. We can continue as we are, if it suits you as well.”

“It suits me,” he said.

“You are not a bad man ?” she said.

“No,” he said.

“But you have done wrong,” she said.

“In the past,” he said. “But not with you.”

“You see that it remains the case,” she said.

The water was treated and safely stored. It was a warm night, so they
slept on their backs in the dirt, without a fire.

In the morning, Brooke sought out Marston. He was unblocking the wagon
wheels and digging the anchoring stakes from the dirt. Brooke helped him. They
worked in silence, circling the wagons and drawing up the stakes that held them
steady. They untied the horses and harnessed them. They gathered the rocks from the
fire pits. They were sweating as the wagons began to roll. They brought up the rear,
trailing the third wagon, with two mules in tow.

“Is there money to be made in Wolf Creek ?” said Brooke.

Marston shook his head.

“There's a life to live,” he said. “Or that's what we hope. It's all
we're after. I'd like to raise a family.”

“It sounds easy enough,” said Brooke. “What you're working

on.”

“Few things wind up actually being that way,” said
Marston, “but it's a straightforward plan.”

“That it is,” said Brooke.

Bird and Mary slept a good night's sleep with that family, their
first in many. Bird slept outside. The man's daughter brought him furs and a few
flints, sticks, and logs to make a fire. Mary slept inside, in a pile of furs. She
did not bother to evenly distribute them upon the floor. She set them in a pile and
worked her way into them. They sat heavily beneath and upon her.

In the morning, the man, whose name was Clark, brought them into town in
a wagon he hitched to the back of his horse. His daughter brought up the rear,
directing the ponies they were planning to sell that very day. Clark let Mary and
Bird off the wagon near the center of town. Bird and Mary thanked them for their
kindness and hospitality. Clark and his daughter were more than happy to help. They
rode on to tend to business and left Bird and Mary standing together, but a few feet
apart.

Town was busy, bustling, loud, and dirty. Men and women splashed through
the mud, dashing from here to there. Shouts came from windows and doors swung
mightily with the bodies of suited men and drunkards alike. In the very center of
town there was a spiraling staircase. It curled up toward the sky and then stopped,
as if there was a trapdoor at its top that might have led them from this world to
the next.

“What is this ?” said Bird, fingering the carving perched atop the
banister at the bottom of the polished stairs.

“An eagle,” said Mary.

“I know it's a bird,” said Bird. “But why is it here ?”

“I do not know,” said Mary.

“I like this place,” said Bird.

“It does not suit me,” said Mary, holding the hem of her dress an inch or
so above the mud.

“How can you know ?”

“It's a feeling. The place is busy and loud. I preferred the ranch. I
even preferred our building with a kitchen, on a good night.”

“This place will do for now,” said Bird. “There is money to be made
here.”

Two men fell out of a set of swinging doors to Bird's left. They were
deep in a struggle, pounding one another with drunken swings. Mary startled, but was
out of harm's way.

A crowd of men soon followed them from inside, keeping a distance but
egging them on.

“He meant it,” said one of the men. “Don't let him tell you
otherwise.”

“He's been saying as much for days now,” said another.

They were laughing for the most part, making sport of these men.

Bird approached. He withdrew a pistol, but only to more laughter from the
men.

“This broken boy has come to set you apart,” said one of the men on the
bar's stoop.

The two fighters paid no mind to any of it. One of the men was finally
able to gain an upper hand. He was able to straddle the other man and pin him down.
He pounded into his face and neck without discrimination. He was smiling. Bird
announced himself with a shot, but neither of the men paid him any mind. A few of
the men on the stoop whooped or yipped. It all seemed fairly ordinary. Mary
withdrew. She did not like to see violence or feel the approach of violence, and
this was too much of both.
She entered the building across from the
bar, a post office that was seeing little action. A clerk sat behind the counter,
busy with some writing. He lowered his pen to greet her, but Mary kept her back to
him. Her gaze was at the window, in spite of herself.

“Which of these men is the richer man ?” said Bird.

Neither of the brawlers took any notice. The one who had been straddling
the other was losing his position. The other man had managed to get ahold of his
throat and was drawing him steadily toward the mud.

“That would be him,” said one of the men from the porch. He gestured to
the man losing his grip, as the other rose up from the ground to gain control of the
fight. “But I would stay out of it.”

Bird approached the two fighters and stuck his pistol to the ear of the
man who was now atop the other. The other man's face was pressed into the mud and he
was struggling for air.

“Let him raise his head,” said Bird.

The other man's hand came reluctantly from the back of his opponent's
head.

“You, in the mud,” said Bird. “Will you have me end this ?”

The man in the mud nodded.

The other man eyed Bird at a slant.

“You will pay me five hundred for the task and provide a room for me and
my wife.”

The man in the mud nodded again.

The other man began to turn, but Bird fired and startled the street. Most
of the men and women nearby flinched or ducked, and the man straddling the other man
fell into the mud and did not move again.

Bird helped the other man up.

“I had him,” explained the man. “You only expedited things.”

“Yes sir,” said Bird.

“It's only worth two hundred.”

“That was not the arrangement.”

“Two hundred and a bed and a bath for you and your wife,” said the
man.

“You've got a horse ?” said Bird.

“A mule,” said the man.

“I'll take the mule then,” said Bird.

“I like a reasonable man. My name is Ramon.”

“Bird,” said Bird.

“Where is your wife ?”