The Jeweled Spur (21 page)

“Just bummin’ around, are you, Jim?”

“Yeah, I guess that’s it,” the young man said. “Looking for work, but it’s kinda hard to come by these days. What about you?”

“Oh,” Novak said, a smile touching his bruised lip. “I’m just traveling around looking things over. Never been away from home before, and I thought before I did anything serious—like getting married or settling down at a steady job—I better see some of this country.”

The broad lips of the tall young man twisted wryly. “Well, you picked a pretty rough side of it for a vacation.”

Novak leaned over and picked up his bedroll, pulling the straps off of it. “I got a couple of cans of beans here. No way to heat it, but if you’re hungry . . .”

The other man hesitated, struggling with his pride, Novak saw, so he added quickly, “Here, let me open one of them.” He produced a can opener, wrenched the top off of one, and handed it to him. They sat down, and Novak pulled a blanket over both their shoulders, talking all the time to take the sting of charity away from his offering. He talked about the towns he’d seen and several amusing adventures without pausing until Logan had eaten the beans out of the first can. Without missing a word, he opened the second and handed it to him, not even looking.

The train rumbled on, and the two kept the blanket pulled tightly around them. “It feels good, don’t it, Jim?” Sam said. “Never knew a blanket could be so welcome.”

“I lost my bedroll a way back,” Logan said. “It gets kinda cold sleepin’ in your clothes under bridges.”

Novak glanced at him briefly and after a while said, “You know, I wouldn’t mind having a partner, Jim. It’s not safe for one man. You think we might stick together for a while, see how it goes?”

He laughed aloud, saying, “You might not be able to stand
me. I don’t know, but I’d feel a little bit better if I had somebody with me.”

His new acquaintance hesitated, chewing on the last of the beans. Then he threw the can across the car where it made a rattling sound. Turning to Novak, he grinned and looked somehow much younger, “I guess if you can put up with me, I can put up with you, Sam. We’ll try it anyway.”

The two of them sat there. Somehow Novak felt like a decision had been made that was more than casual. His new acquaintance had a hard look about him, as if he’d been ill used, but there was nothing vicious, Novak ascertained. He leaned back, saying, “Nice little town coming up, at least on the map. What do you say we get off there and see if we can scuffle up enough work to buy some grub?”

His new friend did not answer, and Novak looked back to see that he had already closed his eyes and was sleeping soundly.

****

“Well, I guess my plan wasn’t so good, was it, Jim?”

Sam Novak was standing at a small bar window looking out, then he turned and sat down on the lower bunk. “Maybe we should’ve skipped this town.”

“Doesn’t make much difference. These towns are all alike,” Logan shrugged. “You can get busted just for spittin’ on the sidewalk in most of them—as I’ve found out.”

They had dropped off the train at Bent Fork and had not lasted more than an hour before they had been hailed by a long-legged man with a star on his vest. “You two got jobs?” he’d demanded.

“Why, no,” Sam had said quickly. “We’re looking for work, Sheriff. You know of any jobs?”

“No, but I know you’re under arrest for vagrancy. Get going, now.”

The two had complained bitterly, but they had been clamped in the jail, tried by a justice of the peace later that
day, and had been sentenced to thirty days on the county work gang. After the so-called trial, they were put back in the cell and given an almost inedible meal, after which the jailer—a very fat man called Stump—had put his feet up on the desk and proceeded to take a nap.

Night had fallen now, and Novak said, “I guess I need a little encouragement, Jim. Do you think we’ll get out of this thing?”

Logan looked at him in surprise. “Get out of it? Why, no. We’ll do thirty days hard, and it’ll be hard, too, if I know these counties. They shoot a man just for thinking about running away.”

“Oh, I don’t reckon so,” said Novak, not seeming to be worried. He looked at his companion and saw that he was wrapped in an aura of bitterness. Logan’s eyes were cloudy, and his lips were drawn into a straight line as he sat on the other bunk staring blindly at the wall.

For three days they sat in the cell after the trial. Finally Novak looked out the window and said, “Almost eight o’clock.”

“What does it matter? We’re not going anywhere,” complained Logan.

Novak sat down and stared at the fat man, who had stirred from his usual nap and was doing some sort of paperwork. “Watch him,” Novak said.

Jim Logan stared with surprise at Novak, then turned to observe the jailer. As he watched, the fat man put his paper and pencil down, got up, and took a heavy coat off of a rack. He struggled into it, pulled a hat down over his head, and left without a word to the prisoners.

“How’d you know he was gonna do that?” Logan asked.

“Because he does it every night. Didn’t you know he goes to the saloon down the street and stays for an hour? When he comes back he’s always had enough liquor to make him sleep.” Novak stood to his feet and said, “Come on, Jim. We’re gettin’ out of here.”

His partner looked at him as if he were crazy. “What are you talking about?” he demanded.

Novak grinned at him, reached inside his pants, and from underneath his belt withdrew what looked to be a long, steel spring. “Key out of here,” he said cheerfully, and turning, he reached down and inserted it into the lock. He wiggled it around, his face frozen with effort, and then there was a definite click.

“That’s it.” Novak pulled the door open and said, “Come on, let’s get our stuff and get out of here.” He saw the startled look on his companion’s face and laughed. “My best friend’s father back in Virginia was a locksmith. I hung around his shop a lot when I was a kid.”

At once the two hurried out of the cell. “We haven’t got long,” Novak said, glancing around cautiously. “The eight-fifteen ought to be here in ten minutes.” He glanced at the clock on the wall and nodded, “That’s about it. Let’s find our stuff.”

They searched through the desk and through a cabinet on the end and found the few belongings they had. After putting on their coats, Sam picked up his bedroll and said, “We better stay off the street until the last minute. You go take a look out the window.”

Seeing it was already dark, Logan went to look. “Can’t see a thing,” he said, staring out the window.

“Good. You can see if somebody’s coming in, though. If they do, we’ll have to knock ’em over the head and lock ’em in that cell.”

Logan kept a careful watch, and finally he turned to see Novak sitting at the desk going through the contents of the drawer. He felt Logan’s gaze and tossed the papers back, saying, “Guess it’s time to go. If you see anybody, don’t run. It’s dark enough that we shouldn’t be recognized. We’re just a couple of guys going down to the saloon for a drink. We go to the station and head off down the siding. When the train stops, we get on top or find an empty car. Come on.”

The two left the jail, and had not gone ten steps before they encountered two men coming right at them. They both pulled their hats down, and as the two men passed, one of them said, “Howdy.”

“Hey,” Novak grunted. “Cold, ain’t it?”

The men did not react, and when they were twenty feet away, Logan suddenly turned and grinned at his friend. “You’re a cool one, Sam. I was about ready to slam into those two.”

“No need for that. Come on.”

They made their way to the station, moved down the siding, and huddled behind two freight cars off on the siding. The train pulled in right on time, and without any difficulty they found an empty boxcar. When the train pulled out, Logan let out a deep breath. He reached over and slapped the younger man on the shoulder, saying, “Well, we’re even for the help I gave you, Sam. But I’d still like for us to go double harness for a while.”

Sam hesitated, then said, “Suits me, but first look at this.” He reached into his pocket, took out a folded paper, and handed it to his young friend. Logan opened it and said, “I can’t see anything.” Sam reached into his pocket, obtained a match, and struck it on the side of the boxcar. By the wavering, flickering light the words jumped out,
Wanted for murder, Cody Rogers. $5,000 reward. Contact Sheriff Rider, War Paint, Wyoming.

There was a moment of tension, and Sam Novak wondered if he had done the right thing. Then he said, “You want to tell me about it, Cody?”

Cody felt a warmth rush through him. He knew that five thousand dollars looked as big as the moon to this young man, on the bum as he was, and he said evenly, “You didn’t turn me in. You got a hidden bank account somewhere?”

Novak shrugged his shoulders. “Sit down, let’s talk about it. How’d you get into this?”

For the next fifteen minutes Cody told his story to Novak, and finally he said, “I’m heading out to Indian Territory.”

“Worst thing you could do,” Sam said. “You’ll get caught sure.”

“How do you figure that? Nobody but federal marshals can go in there.”

“And every man they see there,” Novak nodded, “is an outlaw. They know that, Jim—their job is hunting outlaws. They’d pick you up on suspicion and take you in, then they’d see one of these flyers. You’d be caught sure.”

Cody sighed. He was tired, his eyes were gritty, and in a voice edged with weariness, he sighed, “I don’t know what to do, Sam.”

“I know what to do. Hit the big city.”

“What! No, I want to stay away from people.”

“Bad idea. Out here where there aren’t many people you’re real visible. But in some city where there’s a bunch of people, who’s going to notice one more young fellow like you? Let me tell you how we’re going to do it. They don’t care much about men wanted in Wyoming back east. We’ll go there and get some kind of a job that keeps us on the move. Construction maybe.”

He went on talking, and after a while, Cody finally said, “Well, it’ll beat what I’m doing now. It might work.”

“Okay, we’ll do it then,” Novak nodded.

Cody stared at him strangely and said, “Somehow, maybe I’ll make this up to you, Sam, but I don’t know how. I guess I’ll be on the run the rest of my life.”

The train rattled over a bridge, and then the clattering ceased. The wind whistled by, and the two sat there huddled under the blanket, making plans for the future.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Buffalo Bill Takes a Fall

By the end of her first tour with Bill Cody’s Wild West Show, Laurie had learned that show business was not nearly as glamorous as she had anticipated. Show life was the unloading at an empty place. It was the packing up and moving on when you were so tired you could hardly walk. It meant listening all night to the clicking of rails, the wail of the train whistle, the big, dark, unknown country passing by. It was the band playing, horses prancing, people lining the streets of a strange city. Then there was the hot, midday confusion of the grounds, the sweaty canvas men lying in the shade of their wagons, with the steers bawling from the corral, and the cook clanging his skillet with an iron spoon.

Show life, she had learned, was rain drumming on the tent roof while you stood on a bale of straw to change a costume. It was the teamsters lashing the draft horses while the wagon sank hub deep in straw-strewn mud. It was cowboys sitting on a wagon in the sunset, picking their teeth with stems of hay, talking about the outfits back in Texas or Montana. And it was
homesickness.
The aching mind and heart and muscle kindled the desire for a quiet fireside and the circle of lamplight on a checkered tablecloth. It was a homesickness that hurt worse than any physical ailment Laurie had ever had.

She discovered that writing was a panacea for her loneliness, and during the cobwebby hours of the morning, she poured her thoughts into page after page of her journal. She began work on a novel, but the pressures of show business
did not allow her the long periods of time necessary for such a task.

One afternoon as the parade began to line up, she swung into the saddle, feeling the high spirits of Star as he pranced sideways, and thought,
I hate so much of this, and yet I would miss it if I were to leave.

At that moment she glanced down at the spur on her right boot. The ruby sparkled as the sun broke from behind a cloud, and she thought of the day her father had given it to her. A lump rose in her throat, and she swallowed hard at the memory. She never wore it without thinking of him. She wore the jeweled spur only for parades, never when she was performing her stunts. Now the sight of it brought back the memory of her father’s face that day when the two of them had stood at the station and said their goodbyes before she left for college. Those days of wanting to be a writer seemed like a distant memory now. Suddenly, the sound of the band striking up stirred her from her reverie, and she hurried to get in place for the parade.

As the parade filed out toward the town, Buffalo Bill rode at the head of the line, doffing his hat to the loud cheers. Finally, in rolled the bandwagon with its six white horses stepping lightly to the strains of “Oh Susanna, Don’t You Cry For Me.” Not far behind, with a clatter on the stones, came Chief White Eagle and fifteen tawny warriors, and later in the parade Running Bear led his Sioux on their painted ponies. The Mexican vaqueros rode with jangling spurs and buckskin strings bouncing above the bright serapes tied behind their saddles. Their faces were dark under the wide sombreros, and their buckskin jackets were laced with white leather. The street was full of cowboys, long-horned steers, and Indians. The parade ended with a Deadwood Mail Stage, dented with bullets from the desperadoes of the Black Hills, drawn by six black horses.

The parade wound through town and then made its way back to the lot where they were staying. Immediately Laurie
dismounted and saw to it that Star was bedded in clean rye straw. She glanced over to where the buffalo were browsing on mounds of dry timothy. Steers grazed over their hay-strewn corral, with a cowboy playing a mouth organ from the top rail. Beyond the cook tent and the bunk tent, opposite the clusters of the tepees of the Indians, rose two A-tents. One of these was for Buffalo Bill Cody and his partner, Nate Salsbury. The other tent was for Laurie and a young woman named Leona Aimes. Leona was a pretty blond woman with a sultry kind of beauty that men admired. She was a trick shot artist and had been with the Wild West Show for only two months. Laurie got along with Leona very well, although there was a wildness in her roommate that troubled her. Leona made trouble among the cowboys of the show, causing them constantly to be caught up in some kind of fist fight. If it were not for the drawing power of her act, Colonel Cody would have let her go long ago.