Deadman's Crossing (19 page)

“For now,” said High Water Pants. He went to his brother and
bent down and pulled his blood-covered hands away from the
wound, gave it a look. “That ain’t good,” he said.

“I’ve done been kilt,” his brother said. “Oh, God. It hurts awful.” He rolled around on the floor some more.

High Water Pants sighed. He went over to the wall, took hold
of a two-by-four that was nailed there, but had warped enough for
him to pinch it with his hands. He tore it loose of its nails. There
was a screech of lumber as it came free, revealing a gap in the wall.
He walked back to his brother.

“Now close your eyes, Zender.”

“Oh, shit,” Zender said, and closed his eyes.

It took three whacks with the two-by-four before Zender
stopped moving. High Water Pants tossed the board aside, looked
at the Reverend.

“You would have done better to have cut his throat with his
own knife,” the Reverend said.

“I ain’t done with you,” the man said.

The Reverend said, “You think you will have designs on me
later?”

“Don’t turn your back.”

“Well, if it has to be that way.”

The Reverend, who had replaced his revolver, pulled it again
and shot the man in the chest. He hit the floor, blood squirting,
wheezing.

“Do not announce your intentions,” the Reverend said. “I am a
man who takes them to heart.”

The Reverend looked around the room. Everyone was up from
their cots now. Some of the men and women were dressed, some
were not. One man was holding his johnson in a protective way.

“Anyone like to pick up the board and finish him?” the Reverend said.

No one moved.

The Reverend looked at the bartender behind the plank. “Do
you have any more complaints? Some that you would like to
respond to in person? You have caused me to frighten my horse.”

The man shook his head.

The Reverend looked back at the crowd. They had merely
thought
they had seen everything. Now they knew they had. The
Reverend went over and got his horse, which had bolted, knocking
over a man on a cot. He led the animal back to the plank. He reached
the reins across the plank to the man behind it. “Hold him for me.”

“Yes, sir,” said the man, and took hold of the reins.

“All right then,” the Reverend said. He walked over to the
wounded man and put his revolver in its holster. He leaned over
and picked up the bloody two-by-four. He spoke to the man on
the floor. “I believe a bullet saved is a bullet you might need. And
besides, good sir, wasn’t this your preferred method?”

The wounded man looked up and bubbled more blood out of
his mouth. It spilled down his neck and onto the floor.

The Reverend lifted the board high above his head, and with
a fine use of hips and knees, gave the board a swing, catching the
miner alongside the jaw. There was a sound like someone had sat
on a china plate, and then the Reverend repositioned himself for
another swing. This time the sound was really loud.

The Reverend dropped the board. “First one did it. Second was
insurance. Now, I want everyone to understand that I am not a
man to be trifled with. Is that understood?”

It seemed to be. There were nods from the clientele. The man
holding his johnson let it go.

The Reverend went back to the plank, said, “Do you have
food?”

“Ain’t much,” the bartender said. “Beans.”

“How much?”

“Five dollars.”

“For a plate of beans?”

“That is the going price.”

“I am in the mood to negotiate that price,” the Reverend said.
“I will offer you fifty cents. How does that sound?”

The man looked into the hard gray eyes of the Reverend, said,
“Fair.”

“Good. Give me the reins back to my horse. Get me a plate of
beans. And how much for the grain for the horse?”

“What price would you want?” the man behind the plank said.

“Well,” said the Reverend, “I think a dollar would be fair. And
if you do not mind, could you see to watering him, and I would
sure hate it if anything happened to him, anyone took him away
from you. That would make me sad as old Job.”

“I’ll care for him.”

“Like you were his mother and he was a colt at your tit.”

“Yes, sir. Just like that.”

The Reverend had his beans and a drink, left his horse in care of
the man behind the plank. Before he left out, the horse let loose
with some turds that splattered to the floor and sent an acrid
odor across the room. It wasn’t any worse than the messes the
men and women had made during the night, it was just bigger
and fresher.

“Clean that up or let it lie,” the Reverend said to the bartender.
“I leave that decision to you.”

The Reverend went outside. The air was a little better out there.
He looked up the hill, at the maw of the mine, which was like a
mouth in the rocks. As he stood there, he heard someone coming
up behind him. When he turned, the .36 Navy was in his fist.

“Whoa,” said a fat woman in a plaid shirt and big baggy pants
with an old Colt revolver stuck in her belt. “Don’t put no hole
in me. I got all the holes I need. And one of them, except for the
peeing part, don’t give me nothing but trouble. Ever miner up here
is looking to put a piece of himself in it, no matter I’m big as a hog
and twice as ornery. But at least I got my looks.”

“Do not blaspheme the body God gave you.”

“I think he was in a humorous mood day I got this.”

“He is a gamesman,” the Reverend said.

“You got to watch yourself, mister. I was in the saloon. Seen
what you did.”

“I did not see you.”

“I was smart enough to stay on my cot under my blankets. Soon
as I seen you, I knew you was the genuine ring-tailed tooter. Them
fellas in there, some of them was friends of them fat boys, and
some of them would just like to take your guns and hat, and maybe
after they’ve poked their wicks in your asshole for awhile, they
might kill you. Thing is, they’re gonna be after you.”

“Let them come.”

“Not saying you ain’t a Jim Dandy, just saying they are a lot of
them, and you are you, and that you is one.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Them two you killed. They was cousins of mine.”

The Reverend’s face turned stony. “I cannot apologize. They
would have killed me.”

“They would have. You can count on that. And I ain’t missin’
them. I’m talkin’ to you sincere. I didn’t like them at all. They
used to fuck me when I was little. Me, the dog, goats, horses, cows,
mama, hell, for all I know, my old man. You name it. What I’m
telling you, though it’s hard to believe, is they had friends, and
they’re meaner than a nest of rattlesnakes tied together. They’ll be
wantin’ to avenge.”

“That could be a problem, as I am here about different business.”

“You don’t look like a miner.”

“I am not.”

“You look like a preacher.”

“I am.”

“You don’t act like one.”

“That is because most preachers do not know what religion is
about. Once you know it is about being under the thumb of the
all mighty and that he is about as forgiving and kind as an angry
badger, then you know the right way to act. I do not expect mercy
from those who give none, and therefore I give them none. I give
it to those who need it.”

“Didn’t that Jesus fellow forgive?” she said.

“He did. I do not. I also seek out the evils of this world.”

“There’s plenty of that here.”

“Yes, but there are other evils. From beyond and below. From
places that cannot be seen.”

“No shit.” The fat woman lifted her hand toward the mine
shaft, pointed. “There’s something up there. Or so they say. I don’t
know that for no fact.”

“Why do you stay here?”

“I was cooking for a living. And then the meat and turnips
and such started to run out, and anyone can cook beans, and they
didn’t need me no more, except for fuckin’, and I ain’t that high on
it as a trade. So I was about to move on.”

“A good idea, I would think.”

“I even thought about mining myself,” she said. “I think it’s
just ghost stories going around, and there ain’t nothin’ in that
mine but silver. Figure that story got started so they can go up
there and work nights. I went up there one night myself, heard
movement down there in the mine, and there was movement in
the bushes all around that place. I thought I was being watched,
so I got on out of there. If I had a partner, someone good with
a gun and not afraid, someone to watch my back, I’d go in that
mine, see I could work it some. There’s been nasty murders up
there. And there’s a lot of folks come up missing. Person alone
ain’t got no chance.”

“How nasty a murder?”

“Nasty enough. Heads torn off, or chopped off. Reckon they got
a dog done that.”

“Well, lady,” the Reverend said. “There is something in the
mine, all right, but it is not miners. Least not the sort you are
thinking.”

“You gonna go look, then?”

“I am.”

“I would like to be in on that, Reverend. I could be of help.
I don’t think there’s anything up there but a few farts chippin’
away while everyone down here hides from what they say are little
people. That’s just foolery. It’s miners scaring people away from
all that silver, and they got a dog. That’s the way I figure. It’s just
a dirty trick, Reverend.”

“Maybe,” the Reverend said.

“Listen, you ain’t got no place to stay, I got a good’n. It’s the
only thing I got here worth a damn. It’s a hideaway. I got some
beans I stole, and some beaver meat that’s gone a little green, but
cooks up all right. I ain’t expectin’ nothing from you but company.
I’ll watch your back, and you watch mine, and we’ll see we can’t
check out some silver up there.”

“Well, lady, you have a deal,” he said, extending his hand.

“I’m no lady, but deal it is,” she said, shaking his hand.

Later, when his horse was fed, they rode double up a winding road
and into the dark pines. Jebidiah thought maybe he was being
foolish, trusting the fat woman, but then again, he was going that
way anyhow. He had it in his plans to see into that mine, see what
it was lurking there.

“With all that is happening,” he said, “why do people stay?”

“Some don’t. Lot of folks left. Them that stay are hoping
things will change, that they can get enough balls to go up there
and dig for that silver. Some talk that line of shit every day, but
come nightfall, they hole up like rabbits. Others that are making
more money off the miners than off the mines, and the rest, well,
they’re maybe like me, just too dumb and stupid to go anywhere.
And some of them, I figure, are the ones doin’ the killing, scaring
people so they can work the mine at night.”

“Do you have a drink at your abode?”

“If no one has broke in and took it. Old Butch is up there, and
they’d have to shoot him to get it.”

“Butch?”

“My dog. He’s meaner than a wolf with a stick up his ass. But
he’ll do anything I say except give me a back rub.”

“What’s your name?”

“My mama, bless her soul, right after I was born, and before she
run off, called me Flower, and it’s been Flower ever since. I don’t
grudge her none for leaving. Papa, my whole nest of brothers, they
ain’t nothin’ but the shit on the bottom of the world’s shoe. They
was only a notch better than my cousins you killed.”

The horse had to work to carry his weight and Flower’s, which
was considerable. The place they arrived at was behind some trees,
and was positioned on a narrow trail so that it was hard to know
there was an opening there, hard to see the big hole in the rock
from which hung a blanket, fastened around some rocks at the top
with a rope, pegged to the ground with wooden pegs. A dog was
barking. The dog sounded big enough to eat a steer.