After about two or three minutes of fuming like a forest fire on the verge of bursting loose and flarin' up like Hell's lowest circle, I finally calmed down enough to go over and squat down beside the castrated son of a bitch.
He was still rolling around in his own filth. Man had both blood-soaked hands clamped between his legs and had descended to the point of whimpering like a hurt dog. Was enough to make me want to puke up my balbriggans, socks, boots, and silver-mounted spurs. Sweet Jesus, he was pathetic.
Arms crossed over his chest, Boz slouched against one end of the rotting fireplace mantel and watched. After a few seconds of contemplation, he set to rolling himself a ciga-reet.
As I recall it, Boz'd already started on his smoke by the time I grabbed the sniveling stack of walking scum at my feet and snatched him onto his nekkid back. Knees hiked up against his heaving chest, Cutner fingered at the still-bleeding ribbon of flesh between his legs, whimpered and mewled. Just typical. Cowardly bastard's real self had popped out with the loss of his manhood. And he couldn't hide it any longer.
24
“GO ON AND KILL ME.”
NOW, I HAVE to confess, I might've gone and slapped the blue-eyed hell out of Eagle Cutner a time or two, maybe three, that fateful afternoon. As I now recollect the events of that day, my open palm across his cheeks did tend to make loud cracking sounds. Pretty sure I left a goodly share of red welts that looked like my fingers on his surprised countenance.
Once I'd finally got his undivided attention, I grabbed the sorry bastard by the throat and said, “You've gotta clear your mind, Eagle. Whatever there is left of it. Gotta perk up. Pay attention. You'n me, and ole Boz Tatum here have unfinished business to discuss.”
Cutner groaned, then made the kind of pitiable sounds that would normally have had the power to pull tears out a glass eye, but not that day. From behind his own set of piss-yellow orbs, he whimpered, “Ain't g-got nothin' to say to either of you star-carryin' b-bastards. Skunk ugly a-assholes done turned me into a geldin'. One pistol shot. Damnation. One shot. Cain't b-believe it. Went from bein' a rooster to a hen in a s-single heartbeat.”
“Best shot I've made in years,” Boz said, then let out a self-satisfied chuckle.
“Ain't nothin' no moreânot even a m-man. W-Why didn't you just go on ahead and put one in my skull bone, like you said you's gonna do? Just get it over with and k-kill me. Go on and kill me. Kill me now. I'm ready to go. Ready to meet Jesus.”
Boz took a lung-filling drag off his hand-rolled, picked a sprig of tobacco off his bottom lip. He glared at the offending morsel, then said, “Well, we can still do that, but I don't think Jesus would wanna talk to a walkin' pile of murderous, hammered manure like you, Eagle.”
Cutner groaned and rolled back and forth in the dirt like a fresh slab of country bacon frying in a hot skillet.
I said, “ 'Course, unless you bleed out while you're rollin' around down there in the mud, the blood, and what used to be your tiny hoo-hahs, you'll most likely live through this little setback. So, why don't you just buck up, you mangy pile of chicken shit? Rancher castrates a bull, animal don't even act like he feels it.”
Cutner twisted back onto one side. He moaned again. “Well, by God, I ain't no bull. An' I fer sure felt this 'un.”
Then, good Lord as my witness, the quivering skin sack puked all over hell and yonder. Let loose with a real gusher. Something that looked like half a gallon of bunk-house chili. Then he rolled onto his back again, coughed, and geysered the awful stuff a good three feet in the air. Nasty-smelling crap rained down all over him. Covered his chest, face, and damn near everything else. I had to jump out of the way to keep from getting hit myself. My God, having to witness such behavior's enough to put a man off his feed for a solid week.
“Aw-w goddamn,” Cutner snarled. “A little setb-back, huh, Dodge? That's what you've decided to call this horrible thang you bastards have gone and done to me? Shit a-runnin'. Had my pistol, I'd give you two a real setb-back.”
The smoldering quirley dangling from the corner of his mouth, Boz grinned and said, “Well, you could be deader'n Crockett and Travis right now, by God. If Lucius had given me the word, 'bout two seconds earlier, what little there is of your more-than-worthles brain would be decorating that wall yonder instead of your tiny set of
huevos
.”
Behind me, I heard Glo at the door. “I's back, Mistuh Dodge. Got all them thangs as you wanted me to bring.”
Didn't take my narrowed gaze off our bleeding, puking prisoner. “You go on ahead and see if you can get Clem cleaned up some, Glo. Boz and I are still a bit occupied with Mr. Cutner.”
Could tell from Glo's voice my instructions distressed him some. “But, Mistuh Boz, maybe it'd be best if'n you . . .”
Still squatting beside Cutner, I twisted around so Glo could see my face. “It's okay. You go ahead and clean her face, neck, arms, and legs, as best you can. Check over all those spots for cuts, bullet wounds, and such. Me'n Boz'll do whatever else we can when we're finished here.”
With a dumbfounded look on his face, Glo nodded. “Yes, suh. Do what I can. But you know I . . .”
“Telling you it's all right. Trust me. No need to worry yourself. Go on ahead and clean up what you can get at. We'll be over to help you with her shortly.”
“Yes, suh. I'm a-goin', I'm a-goin',” he said and shuffled his way toward the bed as though it might contain a horror story beyond his ability to grasp.
I turned back to Cutner and put a serious eyeballing on him. “Here's the deal, Eagle, you tell me where Axel Webb is, and I won't kill you. Swear it on my dear ole sainted grandma.”
Sounded as though he might be weakening, when Cutner mewled, “Aw, hell, if'n you don't d-do fer me, Ax sure 'nuff will when he finds out as how I done went and betrayed him. Pair of you fellers might want me to wake up shovelin' coal in the Devil's f-favorite furnace, but I know for sure Ax would send me there and not even bat an eye.”
“Well, trust me when I tell you that I'm not gonna kill you today. And I won't let Boz kill you, either. Or Glorious Johnson, yonder. You cough up the information I need, and we'll leave you a pistol with one pristine, brain-ready bullet in it. Then we'll hit the trail runnin' and let you figure out how best to write the end of your own sorry story. Ax Webb don't need to have any hand in that.”
“Awww, sweet, merciful Jaysus,” Cutner moaned. “Why've I always been so put-upon? Go to my grave not bein' able to understand why I've had to deal with meddlin', badge-totin' assholes like you three bastards all my natural l-life, Dodge. Sweet glorious God, save me from lawmen.”
“Sweet dancin' Christ,” Boz mumbled. “Ain't nothin' about your life's been natural, Eagle. Been rapin' and killin' folks all over Texas, Oklahoma, Arizona, and New Mexico for years. 'Bout time the law caught up with you and put a stop to all the mayhem you're responsible for.”
“Besides, Ax Webb is responsible for the deaths of a boatload of people out on the Devils River,” I said. “You're gonna tell us where he went. One way or the other.”
Cutner crawfished to the stone house's back wall. He left a trail of blood in the dirt as he elbowed his way to a sitting position. Groaned like a dying calf, then said, “Don't know nothing 'bout no killin's out on Devils River. Didn't have nothin' to do with any killin's done there.”
'Course, he was right about that. Said, “We know you weren't there when Senator Webb and his family were murdered. Otherwise you'd already be dead.”
“Wish I wuz already dead, by God,” Cutner said, then stared at a bloody hand as though it didn't belong on the end of his own arm. “What you sons a bitches done to me's worse'n gettin' kilt.”
“Keep jerkin' us around, and you're gonna be dead and right soon. Can assure that eventuality quicker'n double-geared lightnin',” Boz snorted. “Send you to Satan myself. Keep on talkin' and not sayin' anything useful and I can guarantee it won't take much for me to grant your wish and put a bullet in your brain pan, then ride on out of here.”
The message of real, impending death must've finally bored its way into Cutner's worthless brain. The man damn near shouted when he said, “Uvalde. Webb said as how he 'uz goin' back to Uvalde
.
”
“What in the blue-eyed hell would he wanna go and do that for?” Boz snapped.
Cutner groaned again. Sounded right pitiful when he whined, “Gimme some kinda rag so's I can wipe away some of this blood, Dodge. Swear I'll tell you boys whatever you wanna know. Just help me out some, fellers. Please.”
I turned and hooked a thumb at Glo. He nodded, ripped a square of rag off whatever he'd been using on Clem. I strolled to Cutner's side and dropped it over the man's oozing crotch.
“Thank God,” the outlaw wheezed. “ 'Pears as how I've just 'bout finally stopped bleedin', but this'll sure 'nuff help.”
He mopped at his damaged goods for almost a minute before Boz got tired of waiting. “That's enough. Get to talking, you scurvy dog. We've wasted all the time we're going to on you.”
Cutner rolled his head from side to side. Looked to me like he might puke again. But he surprised me. Suddenly, inexplicably, the man got control of himself. In a stronger voice he said, “Ax went back to his brother's house. Said he was pretty sure the man had a safe full of money there. Said he musta just missed it the first time he searched the place.”
Boz nodded and mumbled to himself, “Makes sense to me.”
Cutner swatted at flies buzzing around his crotch. “Ole Ax is obsessed,” he said. “Wanted that brother of his dead. Wanted all the man's money. And by God he's intent on having both of 'em.”
“Safe fulla money, huh?” Boz said.
“Yeah. Swear that's all I know, fellers. Swear it.” He cried and whimpered some more before adding, “Don't know nothin' else. If you're gonna kill me, might as well get at it right now. Gonna leave me here to bleed out, best head east and burn leather for Uvalde. Bet everything I ever had, that's where Ax Webb is right this minute.”
I turned to Boz. “If Axel didn't find whatever it is he's looking for the first time he searched the place, it'll likely take him a spell this time for sure. Bet he'll still be digging around inside the senator's house a week from now. Means he'll likely have to tear the place down to the foundation 'fore he finds anything.”
“Guess there's no real hurry then, is there,” Boz said.
“Not for you and Glo,” I said.
Boz strolled over so he could stand next to me. He turned his back on Cutner and went to whispering. “What the hell's that mean, Lucius?”
“I want you and Glo to take the girl back to the ranch. See to it she's cared for. Figure the ordeal should be a lot easier on her if she's back there. I'll deal with her sorrier'n hell uncle.”
Boz twisted his neck back and forth. I could hear the bones grind and pop against each other. “We've been through somethin' of a shit storm with this 'un, Lucius. I figured on seein' it right up to the gruesome endâwhatever that might turn out to be. Cain't say as how I'm all that happy with your plan.”
I placed a hand on my friend's shoulder. “You've gotta get Clementine out of here and back to the ranch, Boz. Doubt Glo can do the job alone. Might turn out a full-time nursin' task 'fore she's able to get up and get around again. Not sure any of us should take on such a chore single-handed. Figured as how you wouldn't mind goin' on back with him. Girl's life might depend on it. 'Tween the two of you, I have no doubt Clem'll be seen to with all proper diligence.”
“And Ax Webb? What're you gonna do about him, Lucius?”
“Don't you worry bout that skunk, ole friend. I'll take care of Axel Webb myself.”
About then, I heard Glo say, “Mistuh Dodge. Mistuh Dodge. Gots to get over here. Little girl done woke up.”
With Boz hot on my heels, I hoofed it to a spot beside the filthy bed. I took Clem's tiny hand in mine. The beaten girl's eyes were so swollen, I bent as close as I could in the hope she might be able to see me. Near to whispering when I said, “Clem. Can you hear me, Clem? It's Ranger Dodge. Come on, darlin', say something for me.”
A single, crystalline tear rolled from the corner of one blackened eye and streamed down the side of her bruised, encrusted cheek like a miniature salty creek. Her voice sounded like a rat-tailed file going through petrified oak when she said, “Ranger Dodge?”
Tell you true, friends, at that unexpected moment, my heart soared. Never figured to get such a response from anyone as badly beaten as she appeared. “Yes, child. It's Ranger Dodge. I'm right here with Boz and Glo. We came for you, darlin'. Came as fast as we could. You're gonna be okay. We'll see to it.”
She twisted atop the sorry pile of raggedy, blood-spattered bedding. “Sorry I ran away. S-should've waited. But I was so angry. So angry. Made a terrible, terrible mistake. All my fault. Hope you can forgive me.”
I bent over and placed as tender a kiss as I could manage on her blood-smeared browâperhaps the only undamaged spot on her entire body. Leaned back and whispered, “Oh, none of this is your fault, darlin', none of it. Whole of this tragedy falls on the head of a single man, and I'm gonna make it right. Just like I swore to you I would out by Devils River. Gonna make it right.”
Not sure the terribly damaged child heard anything I said after I planted that kiss on her forehead. When I'd wiped away a tear of my own and checked once more, she looked to have lost consciousness again.