Hell Snake

by Bernard Schaffer

  Sheriff Ryan was outside with the others, and he shouted, “Come out now, Mr. Periwinkle. There’s no need for more bloodshed.”

  “I’ll kill these two little Indian brats if you come anywhere near this here door, you understand me? I don’t want to do it, I swear to God, but so help me I will! I’ll blow out their brains and throw them out the windows at you if you try it!”

  “Just calm down, now, Periwinkle. Nobody’s coming near that door.”

  Periwinkle ran his hand through his hair and bit his thumbnail so hard it started to bleed. He wiped it on his pants and walked over to where the boy and girl were standing. “What are your names?”

  Neither child spoke.

  Periwinkle slapped the boy across the face with the back of his hand. “Now, I ain’t taking no lip from no little red bastard, you hear me?” he said. “What are your names?”

  When neither of them spoke, Periwinkle put his gun against the little girl’s forehead and cocked the hammer back. “Last chance.”

  “Edwin,” the boy said.

  “Edwin?” Periwinkle asked. “The hell kind of Indian name is that? What’s her name?”

  “Anna,” Edwin said.

  “And who are you to one another?”

  “She is my sister,” Edwin said.

  “Brother and sister. Ain’t that nice? Okay, so listen up. Anna, you look like a sweet girl. You don’t want to see your big brother’s brains get blown all over your nice pretty dress, now, do you?”

  Anna shook her head.

  Periwinkle turned toward Edwin. “And, Edwin, I’m sure you don’t want to see your baby sister get shot in the side of the head so hard her eyeballs fall out of her face.”

  “Do not hurt her,” Edwin said. Now he was trembling, but not with fear.

  “Oh, I’ll do worse than hurt her, boy,” Periwinkle said. “You don’t do exactly as I say, the way I say it, I’ll hurt her permanently. I’ll do things to her you’ll dream about for the rest of your Indian life, you understand me?”

  Edwin’s hands curled into fists. He was about to grab for Periwinkle’s gun and take his chances when a voice boomed from outside the building. “White man!”

  Periwinkle turned and looked at the door in confusion. “Did someone just call me white man?”

  “White man!” the voice came again.

  “Who the hell is calling me white man?” Periwinkle shouted.

  “I am Siisiiyei.”

  “Well, la-di-goddamn-da!” Periwinkle said. “Why the hell should I care?”

  “You have my children.”

  Periwinkle’s eyebrows raised and he turned to look back at the boy and girl. “These two brats are yours?”

  “Have you injured them?”

  “Not yet!” Periwinkle shouted. “But I’m getting ready to! You people better start listening to me or there’s gonna be a whole lotta dead little Indians in about five seconds.”

  “What do you want?”

  Periwinkle screwed up his face in thought. “I want a horse,” he said. “And I want that money back from that bastard Bunt that he stole from me at poker!”

  “First, you must give me the children.”

  “What do you think, I’m stupid?” Periwinkle spat.

  “I will offer myself to you in their place. Let the children out and I will come in, unarmed.”

  “Like hell you will!” Periwinkle said. “Now, not to speak about unpleasant things, Mister—what did you say your name was?”

  “Siisiiyei.”

  “Not to speak on unpleasant things, my Indian friend, but I’m gonna tell you one thing about them people standing out there with you that they probably don’t want you to know. They don’t give one squirt of piss about no grown dead Indian. They think less of the Indians than they do the Mexicans. But even they might not want to see two little dead children, even if they are just Indians. So as far as me sending them out to bring you in here, I’m afraid that’s not gonna happen.”

  “Then send out one of them.”

  Periwinkle looked at the children and squinted. “Which one?”

  “The girl.”

  “No, I don’t think so,” Periwinkle said. “Little girl said she wants to stay in here with me. She said she wants to go for a ride with me on that horse you’re gonna give me just to make sure nothing bad happens to me on my way out of town.” He turned his head back to the door and said, “I’ll send out the boy!”

  “The boy will not go.”

  Periwinkle looked at Edwin and waved for him. “Come on, runt. Your father wants to see you.”

  Edwin did not let go of his sister’s shoulder and he did not move.

  “I said it’s time to go!” Periwinkle shouted. “Move, or I’ll rip off your ears and stuff them in your mouth!”

  “White man,” the voice from outside boomed again.

  “What?” Periwinkle shouted.

  “If you harm either of my children, I will make you beg for death.”

  “I don’t think you’re in a position to be making no kinds of threats right now, Indian!” Periwinkle shouted. “I think, right now, you ought to be begging somebody to lend me a horse before I start shooting these damn kids!”

  “Mr. Periwinkle, it’s Sheriff Ryan again,” the sheriff said. “We’re working on finding you that horse and getting your money back. I just need you to give us a little more time.”

  “Well, time is something these children don’t have, Sheriff,” Periwinkle said. “I can kill one and save the other for later, if that’s what it takes to speed things up!”

  “No, don’t do anything like that,” Ryan said. “If you want, you can take my horse right now and leave. It’s a good one. It will get you where you need to go.”

  “What about my money?” Periwinkle said.

  “None of us have that kind of money on us and we can’t find Mr. Bunt. My horse will just have to be good enough if you want to leave now.”

  “The girl goes with me! For insurance!” Periwinkle said. “Or no deal!”

  “I’m afraid that won’t be allowed to happen,” Sheriff Ryan said. “But if you take my horse and leave, you have my word, no one will stop you.”

  “You expect me to just take your word for it?” Periwinkle asked. “I bet that damn Indian is creeping up on me right now while you’re busy distracting me!”

  “No he ain’t,” Ryan said. “He’s standing right next to me. He’s just worried about his children, same as any man would be.”

  “Where is he?” Periwinkle murmured. “I want to see him.”

  He bent to the window so not too much of his head was exposed and peered through a corner of the glass. Standing next to Sheriff Ryan was a large Indian with a barrel-shaped chest and a thick, muscular neck. He had the same long black hair as both children. He was dressed the same as the boy, but instead of a plain white shirt, he also wore a black vest with a badge pinned to his chest.

  “Since when in the hell do they let Indians wear badges?” Periwinkle spat.

  “He’s a Lighthorseman, here on business,” Ryan said.

  Periwinkle pulled away from the window. “Tell you what. You and that Indian lawman can either bring me my money and a horse or you can bring the coffin maker. I don’t care if you have to rob the bank to get it. My money and a horse!” he shouted. “Or else!”

  “I’ll see what I can do, Chris,” Sheriff Ryan said.

  “You’ll do better than that!” Periwinkle said. He grabbed Edwin by the hair and yanked him away from his sister. The boy struggled and punched and kicked at Periwinkle, but the man was just too big. Periwinkle twisted the boy’s hair in his hand until it felt like it was being ripped out of his scalp and Edwin cried out in pain. “There! You hear that, Indian? You like the sound of that? There’s a whole lot more screams where that one came from!” he shou
ted. “My money and a horse or I kill him first, and then I start on the girl.”

  “You will have your money,” Siisiiyei said.

  “Good,” Periwinkle said. He released Edwin, and the boy wiped his face and ran back to his sister’s side.

  * * *

  * * *

  In time, several deputies arrived and got down from their horses. One of them was carrying a canvas bag, which he dropped in front of the Indian. Ryan bent down and opened the bag and looked inside it. “Bank gave us everything they had,” he yelled to Periwinkle, “just to make sure them two children aren’t hurt. This is a good payday for you, Periwinkle. Let’s make sure it don’t get screwed up.”

  “Oh, I won’t be the one who screws it up, Sheriff. How do I know it’s real?”

  Ryan reached into the bag and held up a bundle of dollar bills so Periwinkle could see.

  “Hell, that just might be the one stack you put on top to make it look like the rest was inside of it!” Periwinkle said. “Somebody has to bring that bag up in here so I can verify that all the money’s there.”

  “I will bring it,” Siisiiyei said.

  Siisiiyei reached for the bag and Periwinkle shouted, “I don’t think so, Indian! I don’t want to see no guns, no badges, and certainly no goddamn long-haired up in here. Get one of the townsfolk to do it.”

  Siisiiyei and Ryan both looked over their shoulders to see who they could ask for help but no one came forward. Finally, a voice from the back called out, “I will do it.”

  Everyone turned to see a bald priest coming through the crowd. He was dressed in a black frock over a long cassock that swept along the ground as he walked. A crucifix dangled from his neck on a necklace of polished beads. He kept his head bowed and his hands folded in front of his chest in prayer.

  “Will a priest do?” Sheriff Ryan called out.

  Periwinkle cocked his pistol and reached to push the door open. “Send him in! Just make sure he don’t do nothing funny, or he dies and both these kids too.”

  The priest took up the bag and made the sign of the cross over it. With his other hand he clasped the crucifix around his neck while he kept his head bowed in prayer.

  Periwinkle stepped away from the door as the priest came closer. “Just come in and set down the bag,” he said. “That’s close enough. Hey, I said that’s close enough!”

  But something was wrong. The priest did not stop. Instead, he threw the bag directly at Periwinkle so that it hit him in the stomach with a thud. As the priest’s bald head came up, Periwinkle realized it was no priest at all. It was another Indian.

  The Indian sprang through the door with his teeth bared. He latched on to the hand holding the gun to force it down while drawing a bone-handled knife from inside his robe. In one fluid motion, he thrust the knife into the soft place in Periwinkle’s stomach, just below his breastbone.

  Periwinkle’s eyes widened at the intrusion of the blade into his body. The Indian grabbed him by the back of his shoulders and bore down on him, forcing him forward onto the knife so that it drove upward into his heart. Instead of pulling the blade back out, the Indian then drove the knife downward, cutting through the middle of Periwinkle’s stomach and opening him to his navel.

  Periwinkle felt his insides spilling out through the open wound and made a last, frantic attempt to catch them with his hands, to try to somehow scoop them all back in, but the Indian pulled the knife free then and let him fall. He grabbed Periwinkle by the back of the hair and raised his head up. He lifted the blade to take his scalp next, but a voice called out from the doorway. “Istaqa! That is enough.”

  Behind Siisiiyei, the white people were watching intently. “We must not push them further than they can bear,” Siisiiyei said, and Istaqa withdrew from the body and slid his knife back inside his robe.

  Siisiiyei went toward his children with his arms wide and Edwin and Anna ran forward to embrace him. He kissed them and wiped tears from the little girl’s face. He pulled Edwin close to his chest and told the boy that he had been very brave, but Edwin was not listening. His eyes were on the bald-headed man dressed in the priest’s robes.

  Istaqa rubbed his hand along his freshly shaven scalp. “What’s wrong, Edwin? You don’t recognize me without my hair?”

  “Where did it go?” Edwin asked.

  Istaqa smiled self-consciously and looked at the white man’s body. “I did not need it anymore.”

  “A warrior’s hair represents his honor and spirit,” Siisiiyei said. “It is his power and his connection to the earth. But Istaqa cut it off without hesitation to save you both.”

  Anna pressed her hands against her eyes and began to sob.

  “No, no, no, little one,” Istaqa said. “Do not cry.” He bent down to embrace her and kiss her on her forehead. “It is only hair. It will grow back.”

  Edwin pulled on his sleeve. “I will give you mine,” the boy said.

  “I will give you mine too,” Anna cried.

  Istaqa pulled them close to his chest and said, “All that I needed was you to be safe, and now you are. Let us get you back to your mother.”

  “Yes,” Siisiiyei said. “And never tell her about any of this.” He bent to pick up Anna and told her to press her head against his shoulder and not look at the white man as he carried her out.

  All the white ladies rubbed Anna’s back and said, “Oh, you poor thing. You must have been so scared.”

  The white deputies standing near Sheriff Ryan bent forward with their hands on their knees and told Edwin, “You were one brave little Indian in there, standing by your sister that whole time, son. I’d hate to meet you out there in the desert when you’re older.”

  Istaqa reached into the bag and handed the sheriff back the bundled dollar bills inside, then overturned the bag to dump out the rocks and dirt that had been hidden beneath it. Sheriff Ryan tucked the money inside his vest. “You want to head back to my office and finish up our business, Mr. Siisiiyei?”

  “Yes, Sheriff,” Siisiiyei said.

  “And how about you, preacher?” Sheriff Ryan asked Istaqa. “You gonna give the next sermon on Sunday and take confession from us heathens or what?”

  Istaqa pulled at the cassock’s collar with his finger and said, “I am already getting a rash from this costume. Why do you force your medicine men to wear such things?”

  Sheriff Ryan laughed and Siisiiyei said, “Istaqa will return the robes while we talk, and then we will leave.”

  “Sounds good,” Ryan said.

  Istaqa laid his hand on Edwin’s shoulder. “Edwin will go with me.”

  Siisiiyei glanced at Istaqa, then at Edwin. Behind them, white men were making their way into the abandoned building and exclaiming at the injuries to Periwinkle’s body. Some of them kept looking back at him and the children, talking in hushed tones.

  “Do everything Istaqa tells you to do and do not cause any more trouble for these people,” Siisiiyei said. He waved them on and said, “Take no longer than you have to. I will be waiting for you at the sheriff’s office.”

  * * *

  * * *

  Istaqa and Edwin walked toward the priest’s house on the path behind the houses, where people had large gardens of many different kinds of vegetables and herbs. Some had tall wooden frames wrapped in vines of swollen blueberries and others grew squashes and cucumbers the size of Edwin’s arm. As they walked, Istaqa bent down and plucked a sprig from one of the plants, then tucked it inside his robe.

  Edwin glanced over his shoulder to make sure no one was looking. Everyone in the entire town seemed to have stayed back at the abandoned building, talking about what had happened. When Edwin turned his head back, Istaqa was reaching down to pluck an entire plant from the ground, roots and dirt and all. He stuffed it into his robe, and smacking some loose dirt from the front of it, he kept walking.

  “Wh
at are you doing?” Edwin hissed.

  “Just follow me,” Istaqa said.

  They had reached the edge of a carefully planted garden when a man came walking past them toward one of the houses.

  The man looked surprised at the sight of them both, but then his eyes fixed on the cross dangling from Istaqa’s neck and he said, “Afternoon, Father.”

  “Good afternoon, my son,” Istaqa said. He smiled and waited for the man to leave. Once they were alone, Istaqa pointed and said, “Go get me four leaves from that plant.”

  “What?” Edwin asked. “No!”

  “Go!” Istaqa said. “Quickly, before anyone else comes.”

  Edwin bit his lower lip as he ran into the garden across its soft dirt, grabbed four leaves from the plant, and went running back. He handed the leaves over and Istaqa dropped them into his robe, then looked around once more to make sure they were still alone. He bent down and, pulling up the sleeve on his right arm, thrust his hand into the loose soil and dug around with his fingers. “Keep watching to make sure no one sees,” Istaqa said.

  Edwin was so nervous he whipped his head back and forth, looking in every direction, while he bounced on the balls of his feet. Finally, Istaqa cried out in triumph and pulled his hand upward, clutching a twisted and gnarled length of hairy brown root. He brushed it off, smelled it, and dropped it inside his robes with the rest.

  He stood up and said, “There. Now I can get out of this ridiculous costume.”

  * * *

  * * *

  The church was large and well appointed, and the clergy house was set beside it, toward the back of the property. Istaqa walked past the church toward the house and Edwin grabbed his hand to stop him. “We cannot steal from this house,” Edwin pleaded. “It is the house of a holy man.”