The Butcher and the Butterfly (30 page)

Mike reached the
fence, his cheeks almost as red as its paintwork. Big Daddy wasn’t
happy.

Edwards watched in
dismay as the usually quiet, business like Mr Thatcham threw his
arms in the air and cussed like a sailor in the Drunken Pony. He
viewed the odd scene for a moment longer, making sure to note the
absurdity of it all before bringing his horses to near and heading
them off back in the direction he came from.

As the carriage
trotted off the sounds of Big Daddies unhappiness sang like
birdsong on the cool evening air.

3

I tells him it
should have been white. Insists that he told that silly girl who
won’t come and play with me that the fence was meant to be white.
He is easy to upset. Easy to make angry. He has so much anger built
up inside of him it but merely took a spark for me to light’s it
up.

I keep telling him
that she is stupid and needs to be punished and made to answer for
her stupidity. A telling off is too light a punishment for this
little girl. Big Daddy needs to put an end to her. Like he put an
end to his stupid wife and her stupid thoughts.

I then sees
something deep down in his thoughts. The farm he wants, the farm he
is buying has secrets. Rich secrets!

And so I plants
another seed in there. He is so easy and soon he will be all mine.
Once he has taken the girl and I feast upon her I shall take his
boy and then him and haves my way with whomever I wants. I will be
strong again and they won’t bury me away like they did before.

Go get your gun.
Big Daddy. Go get your gun and let’s pass judgment on the girl that
knows a little too much. Let’s clip that butterfly’s wings. Let’s
have some fun.

4

Once Ted had said
his goodbyes to young Dotty, he remained in the farmhouse; his
dream coming back to him time and time again; like a headache that
would not cease. It had seemed so real, but at the same time he
knew it was a dream. His wife was dead and as for Palaluka, well
for all he knew she was but merely a myth raised to keep men and
woman on the path of righteousness and to stop them killing and
stealing and generally fucking things up.

But still, the
thought of Dotty being in danger had kept Ted away from the fields
and on edge. He knew that at some point today something was going
to happen and he had to be around so that he didn’t miss it and put
Dotty’s life in further danger. It was an odd thought and one that
Ted wouldn’t have put much credence to in the past. But that dream
and the voices he had heard yesterday had left their stain upon
him.

The day trudged on
much like it had for Mike Thatcham only for Ted, his thoughts were
focused on his daughter, on little Dotty’s safety and his want for
her safe return. He had sent her off to Thatcham’s place to run her
no charge business and by doing so would, or possible has, caused
some catastrophic damage.

Sitting in his
kitchen watching the old clock that sat in the corner tick slowly
over to four of the afternoon he was relieved when he heard the
front door open and the familiar thud of his daughters boots
hitting the porch floor.

‘You home, Dad!’ A
voice bellowed from the porch.

‘In the kitchen
sweet-heart,’ but more importantly, ‘you okay?’

Dotty trudged into
the kitchen and gave Ted a big hug. He was happy to see her but was
concerned about the colour of her hands, face and clothes. They
were speckled with what looked like blood.

He pushed her away
and held her painted hands out to her. ‘What’s this?’

Dotty laughed and
put her hands against his face. They were hot, sweaty and the same
size as his own.

‘Silly Dad. It’s
red paint. You know how hard it is to keep clean when you have’s to
paint a fence. Messy biz-e-niss.’ The grin almost reduced Ted to
tears.

Ted stood and
nodded with a grin on his unshaven face. Dotty smiled back and
headed off to the small pantry to grab her some cool lemonade.

Just paint. Not
hers, or anyone else’s’ blood. But wait.

‘What do you mean,
just paint?’ Ted said softly, almost to himself.

‘Can’t hear ya
Dad.’ Dotty said from the pantry in between large gulps of
lemonade.

Ted raced over to
the cool pantry almost bumping into Dotty as she left. ‘I said what
do you mean red paint? Thatcham wanted it white, didn’t he?’

It wasn’t really a
question, more rhetorical than anything, but he needed to know.

Dotty chuckled and
shrugged her shoulders. ‘Paint tins were red. They were the ones
left out in the shed like you said, Dad.’

She patted him on
the shoulder, and then added. ‘I thought’s it weird but hey ho here
I go.’

Teds brow
moistened and his hands became clammy. All of a sudden he felt on
edge again, like the safety of Dotty was even more in danger now
than it had been previously. He was positive that the fence was to
be painted white.

‘Are you sure,
Dotty? Are you sure you picked up the right tins? Was Simon
there?’

Dotty shrugged,
her face turned bright red and her eyes flared up. Ted knew she
hated that boy for what he had done to her in the past and in those
flared eyes he saw no lie.

‘Yes Dad. Right
tins, the only tins. And no, Simon wasn’t there.’

Ted could see her
discomfort. He hated questioning her like this but he had no
choice. He brought her in and gave her a sweet cuddle. Patting her
hair softly he said some soft calming words and then separated
himself from her.

‘Sorry Dotty. It’s
just I know how fussy old man Thatcham can be that’s all.’

She merely nodded
and smiled. He couldn’t ask for more than that.

‘Okay,’ he said
sighing, ‘Go and have a bath and I shall put on dinner. Pork and
chi…’

‘TED!’

A voice bellowed
from the street outside.

‘TED FUCKING
MOORE! YOU HAVE SOME ANSWERING TO DO MY BOY! YOU AND THAT STUPID
ARSE OF A DAUGHTER AS WELL! SHE RUINED MY FUCKING FENCE!’

Ted looked at
Dotty and could see tears welling in her eyes and she shook her
head in denial. He went to hold her but she stepped away continuing
to shake her head frantically from side to side as the angry voice
continued to shout for Ted.

‘They was the only
paint tins. They was the only paint tins.’ Dotty mumbled beneath
the tears her skin a flame in the suns late red glare through the
window. Ted remained in the kitchen dumb founded and unsure of what
to do. Violence hadn’t crossed his mind but could tell that at some
point, if he didn’t go to see Thatcham that his door was likely to
be kicked in and he would be forced to defend himself.

Ted turned away
trying to ignore the odd mumblings from his daughter. As he walked
toward the front door one of Dotty’s mumblings caught his ear

‘Don’t let him
clip my wings, Daddy. I want to fly with the other
Butterfly’s.’

and it sent a
shiver down his spine.

5

Martin heard the
raised voice from a distance and he continued walking down the
rutted pathway a little more cautiously than before. Whoever this
Ted fucking Moore was, and his stupid arse for a daughter for that
matter, they were both seemingly in trouble. He drew his gun and by
the weight knew it was still loaded.

6

Mr Thatcham
continued to rant as Ted reached the front door and as he opened
it; the urge to close it again and run for cover made his muscles
spasm. He knew that Mike was looking for a fight and he hoped he
could reason with the man, but he had no clue that the fight was
going to involve a twelve gauge shotgun and what looked like a man
that could not be reasoned with.

7

Calm down, the
silly girl’s father is telling him. Calm down and put the gun
away.

He is just as
silly as the girl. Where is the girl? Where is my butterfly?

Tell him you want
the girl outside now. Tell’s him that you want her to answer for
her stupidity.

He’s not going to.
Not going to. NOT GOING TO! Fuck that Big Daddy. Fuck that. You
tell’s him and you tells that prick that if you don’t see the girl
in less than one minute you are going to blow his head off and then
smash the door in and blow his daughters face clean off.

Tell him Big
Daddy.

That’s it. You
mean it to, Big Daddy. Just remember what we can get up to once I
have them.

Raise ya gun.

That’s it, Big
Daddy.

8

‘Come on, Mike.
What’s this about? The Fence?’

Mike kept the
weapon cocked and aimed. ‘You know damned well what this is about.
That stupid bitch painted my fence red. RED!’

Ted lowered his
voice and took a step forward; his hands outstretched in the
universal sign for ‘calm the fuck down’. A soft breeze pricked at
his skin and somewhere deep within his mind screamed
familiarity.

‘Mike, Dotty says
there was no white paint. She says, and I believe her, that the
paint was red and that they were the only tins in the shed.’

‘Bollox!’ Mike
snapped. ‘Little liar. She has always tried to show me up, to make
me and my family look foolish. But not today. Now you have thirty
seconds.’

‘I’m not bringing
her out here, Mike, not until you drop your gun and calm down.’

‘Twenty seconds,
Ted.’

‘Mike, listen to
me,’ Ted frantically spat, ‘Drop the gun and let’s talk about it. I
can lower the price of the farm, pay you back and I shall re-paint
the fence myself. Just drop the gun. Please!’

‘Ten seconds,
Ted.’ The eyes were fierce, reflecting the suns late red glow.

Looks like you are
going to have to kill him, Big Daddy.

‘Mike, listen to
me. Maybe it was your son playing tricks again?’

Mikes eyes
narrowed and leant forward readying himself. Starring at the gun
its twin barrels looked like tunnels into hell.

Do it Big
Daddy!

‘Five seconds.
Don’t fuck with us.’

‘I think, my
ill-tempered friend that you should lower your gun and let a
Marksman settle this dispute.’ A soft voice from Thatcham’s right
suggested and in the distance a rumble of thunder echoed through
the valley.

9

In the field’s
directly opposite Teds farmhouse and from the vantage point of a
small hill, Doyle Cartwright had been finishing up for the day. He
had collected some more oil and coal samples to once and for all
prove to old man Thatcham that there were more riches in this land
than he could possibly dream of and was readying himself for the
homeward journey.

Only now, he stood
stock still watching the show outside Teds home. The voices were
loud but unclear. He could only pick a few words but from that he
could roughly put two and two together.

What the hell had
gotten into Thatcham he hadn’t a clue. Usually the man was
reasonable, cool and calm, with a wicked tongue. But seemingly
young Dotty’s misdoings have finally sent him over the edge and
there looked to be some bloodshed tonight to go with the Red Lady
sunset.

Looking to his
right Doyle caught glimpse of a man walking toward the scene. He
didn’t look all that familiar and carried himself like a man just
shy of deaths door and in need of a goods night watering and bed.
Thatcham hadn’t seen him. His raised gun remained fixed upon
Ted.

‘Five seconds.
Don’t fuck with us.’ Carried on the breeze but still neither Ted
nor Mike noticed the stranger walk up alongside them.

Doyle’s horse
reared as a rumble of thunder echoed through the valley to the
North, not an uncommon sound this time of year. The two gunshots in
quick succession weren’t that common and Doyle struggled to keep
his horse from bolting.

Seeing the two
bodies fall to the floor Doyle steadied his horse, mounted hard,
then rode into town to fetch a posse.

10

The soft voice had
been a shock to Mike and as he turned to face it he pulled the
trigger sending pellets hurtling toward the farmhouse.

That wasn’t the
last thing the Mike ever did. The actual last thing that he did,
after falling to the floor that is with blood gushing from an open
wound to his throat, was to piss his pants.

11

A Marksman. Oh
fuck yeah. See ya later Big Daddy.

13

Dotty ran from the
kitchen, knocking all kinds of stuff over and opened the front
door. She fell over Teds hunkered body and hit the floor hard.
Turning quick she met her Dad’s eyes for what she thought was the
last time.

‘It’s okay, Dotty.
Dad is okay.’ Ted exhaled whilst smiling. He reached out to grab
her and as he did he caught sight of the hundreds of pellet marks
now lovingly decorating the front of his home. Some were still
smoking as the two of them hugged it out on the pathway leading to
their home. At the end of the path, Mike’s blood was beginning to
pool and turn an angry black.

14

Ted stood and
brushed himself down. By the gods that had been a close one. He
watched Dotty watching the blood pool around the greying corpse and
looked to the heavens. He mouthed a thank-you to whoever cared to
take it and then glanced at Thatcham’s body. By the Old Maker this
was going to take some explaining and he feared even more for the
safety of not only himself but of his daughter too. A million
images stormed through his mind: him hanging whilst Dotty watched,
then Dotty hanging whilst he watched were just a couple. He shook
them away and moved his attention to the man with the smoking iron
glistening in the darkening light.

He watched the man
that had saved his life, well; saved it for now at least, holster
his weapon and glare at the body on the floor. He could see concern
in those eyes for but the briefest of moments.

A crow screaming
in the distance broke the fragile silence. Ted and the gunslingers
eyes met.

Ted spoke first,
‘For now I guess thank you is in order, stranger. That was getting
out of hand.’