Authors: David B. Riley
"Well, today we've got to find a way out of here,” I reminded her.
"That's not likely,” a familiar voice declared. It was the bony guy with the green teeth who'd been stealing horses in California. He clutched his ledger book in his bony hands while he peered at me through his thick glasses. “Didn't we kill you?"
I nodded. “A couple of times."
"That's what I thought.” Then he peered at Angel. “Ah, the female Secret Service agent."
"How does everyone know I'm with the Secret Service?” Angel asked. “Why do I bother to act like a lunatic?"
"We know all about you, my dear,” he said while he stroked his ledger book. “Except, perhaps, why you are wearing such a ridiculous costume."
"What do you know?” she prodded further.
He smiled at her. His teeth were a ghastly shade of greenish yellow.
"Say your prayers, my dear.” Then he looked at me. “You, too. You won't be stealing any of my horses any more. You'll be too dead for that."
"How nice,” I said.
He smiled at me with those ghastly teeth. “Yes, it is. Isn't it."
I was worried about two things. I needed to get back my gun. I really didn't like the idea of this guy having a gun like mine. And I needed to figure out where Paul was. I knew the answer to neither question.
They didn't feed us, but did give us some water. At some point, I dozed off to sleep. I don't really know what time it was when I woke up again, but Angel was asleep with her head on my shoulder. The place had quieted down a lot, so I guessed it was nighttime. In a cave, everything is the same.
Nobody seemed to really be guarding us. I guess they figured we weren't going anywhere. Then I noticed something about one of the guys in gray uniforms.
"Angel,” I whispered. She didn't respond. “Angel,” I tried again. I tried to tap on her shoulder, but she'd shifted, and I hadn't noticed. I ended up touching her somewhere else. At least that got her attention.
"Mr. O'Malley!” she protested.
"Those guys’ uniforms, they're like the Confederacy, aren't they? At least sort of?” And I made another observation. “And the soldiers, they're mostly all Indians."
"You sure figure things out quickly,” she said sarcastically. “General Creed is one of those people still fighting the Civil War, at least his version of it. He wants to arm and train the entire Indian population and the Mexicans in Texas and California to create a new nation from the Rocky Mountains to the Pacific. He might just succeed. The United States is not ready for a war right now.” She tore one of the wings off her angel outfit. “And he's raised a lot of money."
Angel felt around, then squeezed a Derringer out of the wing. “Hold onto this for a second."
"Not much firepower,” I said.
"They searched me, but they don't know what a fake wing is supposed to feel like.” Then she squeezed out a small tool. “This is what I really wanted.” She moved over to the lock on our cage. She leaned against it, trying to conceal what she was doing with her other wing. In no time at all, she had the lock open. “These guys are bold, but they're not all that bright.” She opened the cage door. “Let's get out of here."
As if on cue, Paul came trotting up. I removed some man's boot from the stirrup. I had no idea what Paul had been doing. I climbed up, then pulled Angel up behind me. I handed her the Derringer. I sure didn't know how to shoot it. They're not like normal guns.
"Mr. O'Malley, that's some horse you have.” She put her arm around my midsection. “They'll surely notice we're leaving."
I let Paul lead. He seemed to know where we were going better than we did. We went down into a narrow crevice of the cavern. I'd thought we were leaving. I was wrong. Apparently, I was not the only one worried about my gun. A sign over a tent read, ‘Armoree.’ Paul knocked the tent down with one fast blow from his rear hooves.
Two grizzled old men emerged, swearing profusely. I jumped off the horse and knocked one of them to the ground. Paul sent the other bouncing off the wall of the cave.
Inside the tent, I found my gun. I grabbed it and got back on Paul as fast as I could. Paul seemed to know where he was going, so I let him proceed. We wound though some rather narrow tunnels, then we emerged through a crevice and we were outside.
We'd been in the light of day for perhaps two minutes when a bullet ricocheted off a nearby chunk of granite. I noticed two men on a hill behind us. I fired at them. They were out of range. Even my six-gun couldn't out-shoot a Winchester. My rifle was at home. I yanked on the reins to coax Paul to hurry up. He obliged, and we raced off into the dense Ponderosa pine forest.
"We've got to get to Flagstaff,” Angel said. “It's not that far. I need to wire my superiors,” she explained.
It took us a couple of hours. We arrived just about dark. I took Angel straight to the Western Union office, more of a closet in the side of the hotel than a real office. But Angel was able to get her message off to some bureaucrat in Washington.
I was going to head back home. Even though it was getting dark, the moon was nearly full, and I didn't really have the funds to rent a hotel room. To my surprise, Angel climbed up behind me. I asked her, “Do you have a camp somewhere near my house?"
"Yes. I take it you don't think I'm a lunatic anymore."
"I didn't say that."
She swatted me on the side of the head.
"What's your name, little girl?"
"Angel, it's really Angel. That's where I got the idea to dress up like a reject from the insane asylum. It let me go about with little interference. Most people gave me a wide berth."
We made it back to my house. I got Paul fed, then I went inside. I'm not exactly sure how, but I ended up asleep in my bed. I guess I must have dozed off.
Later, I woke up. There is something incredibly unnerving about waking up and seeing the Angel of Death peering down at you, especially with that black robe and that sickle thing he's always carrying around. After my heart returned to a normal rhythm, I said, “Death?"
"Hey Miles, you got any more of that apricot brandy?"
I wasn't sure. I sat up. “I'll check.” I climbed out of bed. “Maybe.” I went into the kitchen and fumbled around. There was a bottle in the back of the cupboard, though it wasn't apricot brandy. The label said bourbon. I handed it to him.
He took a long gulp. He didn't seem to notice it wasn't brandy. “Ah. That hits the spot.” He looked back toward the bedroom. “Miles, I never would've figured you as such a ladies man. Is that the looney that was running around dressed in wings?"
I had to go back to the bedroom. Angel was sleeping in my bed, stark naked with no covers over her. I went back to the kitchen. “I didn't know she was in bed with me."
"Yeah, sure, Miles.” Death gazed off somewhere outside the window.
"Miles you're a legend around heaven. Mabel and Janus, that's mighty impressive.” He drifted off again. “Oh, Mabel...” Then he looked back at me and took another gulp of liquor. “That one in there, she's a fine specimen without that ridiculous outfit on."
I had no idea why she was in my bed. I certainly didn't recall any intimacies. “Well, she's no Mabel,” I said.
"True.” He placed an empty bottle on the kitchen table. “Thanks, Miles. We'll see you.” There was a flash, and he was gone. He had inhaled an entire bottle of bourbon.
"Who were you talking to?” Angel asked. She was still naked as a jaybird.
I shrugged my shoulders. “No one."
She looked at the empty bottle. “Drinking alone, Miles?"
"Just a sip,” I lied. “There wasn't much left."
"Oh.” She started back to the bedroom. “Come back to bed. We've got a few hours before the troops get here?"
"Troops?” I followed her back to the bedroom. “What troops?"
"I took my clothes off and crawled into bed with you, only to find you'd fallen asleep.” She patted my behind. “You're not one of those people who thinks people have to be married to sleep together?"
"It's not that. I'm tired.” And that was the truth.
She kissed me. “Nonsense."
Janus was wrong. Mortal women could still satisfy me.
Dawn came early. I found Angel outside getting Paul saddled up. “I thought you'd never get up, sleepy head."
I must've slept all of an hour. “Why is Paul saddled up?"
"I need transportation,” she said. “I want to borrow Paul.” She was wearing trousers and a blue shirt that looked like one of mine. I thought women looked strange in trousers.
Paul shook his head back and forth and stomped his hooves.
"No. He's my horse. He won't let anyone else ride him."
"Then I guess you'll have to come along, too,” she decided.
We'd barely gotten out to the road when I noticed a long column of at least three hundred cavalry troops. A familiar major rode near the front of them. He tipped his hat. “Well, where's this cavern of yours?"
"It's not far.” She waited for me to climb onto the saddle, then she followed. “Just follow us."
When we got there, there was nothing. There was no cavern at all, much less one full of supplies, no strange man with a ledger book—nothing. After puttering around for about an hour, a captain with Corps of Engineers insignia announced he believed there might have once been a cavern, but the entrance had been dynamited. The soldiers all mounted up and rode away.
Angel just sort of stared off at the nearby San Francisco Peaks. After a few minutes, she said, “I'll walk home. Thanks for your help."
I didn't really know where her home was. “You sure we can't drop you off?"
"I'm sure."
I climbed up on my horse. “Well, we'll see ya then."
"No one can move that many horses and that many men without being noticed,” Angel said. “I'll find them."
"True enough, I reckon."
"True enough,” she repeated.
Only a real idiot would rent a house from the devil, logic would dictate. But, actually, Nick had not been that bad a guy. He'd treated me decently and plied me with two astonishingly beautiful angels. All in all, I almost thought of Nick as a friend. Still, just about every major religion in the world warned about this guy. And I was living in his house. I got to where I dreaded things every time I heard a bump or creak in the night.
Nothing ever happened. It was just my imagination, but I determined it was time to move on. I decided Arizona wasn't really my cup of tea, anyway. So, I loaded up Paul with what he could carry and headed back for California.
We headed west. When we got to the Pacific Ocean, we turned north and straddled the coastline for several days. I figured my luck must be improving. El Rancho, a small town on the coast, had a good ol’ otel like I was used to. I checked in and found accommodations for Paul next door.
A local couple had a shed they rented out in back of their house. As long as he had food and water, Paul could look after himself. My room had funny little bugs that scurried off into the walls, but they didn't bother me much. After two weeks of sleeping on the ground, this was a welcome change.
I soon discovered there were an abundance of barbers in this town.
They were not very thrilled with the notion of having another one. So, after a few days, we pushed further on. That night, we made our camp on a hill overlooking the Pacific Ocean. I found I could sit and gaze off at the ocean all day. And Paul seemed to like the lush wild grasses growing all over the area—nurtured by the moist breezes that came in off the ocean. I decided we'd stay put for a few days, then head for the town of San Luis Obispo. So, I was quite content to sit on this hill and drink my less-than-perfect coffee.
"Miles. Miles O'Malley,” a voice greeted me. I noticed someone was approaching, accompanied by a mule. “Miles."
I waved as my brain tried to remember who this was. After a minute or so, I yelled back, “Roy."
"You got any more of that there coffee, boy?"
"A little.” I found my spare cup and poured him some. “Little surprised to see you all the way out here in California."
"Well.” He took a sip and grimaced. “Sure glad I never let you make coffee for the miners.” He sat himself down. “As I was sayin', that mine went bust last winter. Things aren't goin’ so good in Nevada no more. Too many miners. Too little silver and gold, especially the gold part. Silver ain't worth near as much."
His mule wandered out a few feet and sampled the lush grass. Paul eyed the mule suspiciously.
"Lo and behold, me and the mule was headin’ south from Frisco. I looks up and seen you here,” Roy said. “Who'd a figured?"
"Well, I was heading the way you just came from. But you're welcome to share my camp with me,” I invited.
I had not been at the mining camp working as Roy's kitchen boy for a long time. Still, it was nice to see an old acquaintance. We traded lies for a while, then turned in.
I slept pretty good that night, maybe a little too good. I noticed Roy was gone when I woke up. I looked around and found his mule was still munching on grass. I killed a whole day looking for Roy, with absolutely no sign of him. His bedroll was still laid out by the campfire.
That night, I slept restlessly. I kept thinking I heard Roy calling to me, but I'd wake up and there was nothing.
"Paul, I sure wish I knew what happened to Roy.” My horse just stared at me, blankly. “I've run out of places to look for him.” I saddled up my horse and got ready to leave. “Guess we'll just leave. Hope he didn't break his leg somewhere."
Then, I heard him again. He was yelling from the direction of the ocean. I could just barely make out his voice above the roar of the surf. I headed to the edge of the cliff. A few yards down was a sort of outcropping.
I climbed down and found an opening that a man could just fit through. It was dark inside. I found there was nothing but air beneath my feet. I dropped about fifteen feet, then hit sandy soil and stopped. I wasn't particularly damaged. I dusted myself off and suddenly realized this place had an uneasy familiarity. It was bigger than the lair of the Nevada shadow entity, but this place was a lot like that. I fumbled around in the dark until the chamber I'd been in turned into a larger one with a familiar pile of glowing embers in the middle. Roy was hunched over, against the wall of the cave. He looked alive, but disoriented. I resisted my temptation to go to him.