Emmett & Gentry (an Emmett Love Western)

by John Locke

  He looks at me.

  “Can you imagine how much fun it was to dip my line in that fishin’ hole after all those years it had been lyin’ dormant?”

  As a man who enjoys fishin’ more than most, I start to chuckle. Then I stop, realizin’ where his story’s headin’. Before I have time to comment, he says, “May’s got what I can only imagine is a glorious fishin’ hole between her legs. And it’s been dormant six years. I don’t know about you, but I’d give a year of my life to be the first to dip my line into it.”

  I give him a look of disgust and say, “Well, why don’t you then?”

  He laughs. “I would, if it weren’t for the fact she and Clara are best friends.”

  I don’t know what to say, so I say nothin’.

  After a few minutes of silence between us, Jim pulls the poker away and wipes the spot and says, “I’ll be damned.”

  “What?”

  “There’s a dent!”

  “What? Truly?”

  “Feel for yourself.”

  I do. He’s right, there’s a dent. It’s so small it’s hardly worth mentionin’. But it’s a dent, and that gives me hope.

  I check the sun and decide it’s gettin’ close to noon.

  “Let’s take a break and hit it again around twelve-thirty,” I say.

  “I’d welcome that. I expect Clara’s made enough lunch for both of us,” he says, “if you’d care to join us.”

  “Thanks, but no. I’ll want to feed and water Rudy and Scarlett.”

  “Need some help with the pump?”

  “The womenfolk were kind enough to fill my bucket this mornin’.”

  He gives me a look like he’s about to say somethin’ smart about that, but sees the look on my face and decides against it. He fusses with the fire a minute, movin’ the unburned wood away from the flames. When the flame dies down he says, “See you in an hour,” and heads home. I stay put, waitin’ for my cuff to cool. If I try to stand up now, it’ll shift and burn a hole in my skin. So I sit and watch the embers glow, and think about Jim, and what he’d said.

  I’d never known my friend to talk so much about fornicatin’ before, but of course, durin’ the years I knew Jim he was pokin’ our house whores regularly, so he probably didn’t have much reason to openly reflect on May’s fishin’ hole, nor how long it had been lyin’ dormant. After thinkin’ about that for awhile, I turn my thoughts to Lilly Gee, and wonder what she wants to talk about. I think about how hard her life’s been, bein’ so young and livin’ years with a man who’s brain dead to the extent he sits around and hoots like an owl all day. I wonder how he died, and that reminds me how my Aunt Booger once told me half the men in the county died after bein’ poisoned by their wives. I was fifteen when she said that. I didn’t believe it then, and don’t believe it still. But it does make me think.

  After my cuff cools, I get to my feet and shuffle down the street, turn the corner, and walk into the front door of the Spur. Lilly ain’t here yet, so I take the animals outside and let ’em do their business. Then I give ’em some water, and a couple of corn dodgers. I help myself to some of the cracklins and remind myself how much I owe the owner of this fine horse, Scarlett.

  When I bring the animals back inside, Lilly Gee’s standin’ in the kitchen.

  21.

  I AIN’T LOOKIN’ for a woman to replace Gentry. But if I were, this is where I’d start. Lilly Gee is tall and slender, with long, reddish-blond hair that’s always fresh-combed, and eyes the color of a ripe persimmon. Her skin is clear of any type of blemish. Her teeth are bright white and perfectly straight, which is quite rare, in my experience. I can’t speak to her smile, for I’ve never seen her wear one. Then again, our paths have only crossed a few times. I’ve passed her in the street, waited behind her in line at the saddle store once, saw her at the general store a time or two. On each of these occasions she spoke only the slightest, or not at all.

  “Thank you for seeing me,” she says.

  “Do you have news of Gentry?”

  She gives me a confused look. Then says, “If that’s why you agreed to see me, I’m afraid I owe you an apology.”

  “No, don’t be silly. It’s just that you didn’t speak to me yesterday, so I figured maybe you remembered somethin’ afterward. Somethin’ about Gentry.”

  She looks around. “There’s no place to sit.”

  “I’m sorry about that.”

  She looks at the chains around my ankles.

  “Will you get them off?”

  “I will. But it’s gonna take time.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “You been through worse.”

  Her eyes grow moist. She turns away and walks to the corner of the room, past the counter that’s mostly on the floor in pieces. She finds a small part of it that ain’t been smashed by Jim’s sledge hammer yet, and backs up against it. I think about steppin’ closer to her, but decide she probably went there to put more space between us. Then I look behind me and see Rudy starin’ at us.

  “He won’t hurt you,” I say.

  “I’m not comfortable around bears.”

  I walk over to Rudy and lead him away from the door. He plops down in his old corner. “Scarlett?” I say. The horse’s ears perk up. “Come.”

  Scarlett walks over. “Stay with Rudy,” I say.

  Scarlett turns away and walks back where she was before I called her over, which puts a frown on my face. Sometimes she’s brilliant, smarter than a human. Other times, she’s definitely a horse, and a mule-headed one at that. I go back in the kitchen and say, “Sorry about that.” I wait a few seconds for her to speak. She don’t, so I say, “What did you want to talk about?”

  She lowers her eyes. Her lips tremble. “There’s a man,” she says.

  I wait for her to say more.

  She looks at me with pleadin’ eyes.

  I say, “Tell me about him.”

  Then she blurts out somethin’ that makes my blood run cold. “He’s a cattleman,” she says. “From England.”

  I wait for her to get up her courage, but she’s got herself upset, and begins to cry. I don’t know if I should walk over and try to comfort her, or wait it out. Last time a woman cried at me I wound up naked under her kitchen table. Since I ain’t got a kitchen table, I decide to wait it out. After a few minutes she says, “I’m sorry. I know you’ve got your own troubles.”

  “Please,” I say. “Tell me about this man, and why he’s got you so upset.”

  She shrugs and looks away.

  “Start by tellin’ me his name.”

  She looks around, as if someone might be listenin’. I say, “You can speak freely. We’re alone.”

  “David Wilson.”

  “And he’s a cattleman from England?”

  She nods.

  “And what’s David Wilson done to get you in such a state?”

  “He won’t leave me alone.”

  “Is he in town now?”

  “No sir. I don’t think so.”

  “But he’s been here several times?”

  She nods.

  “Has he hurt you in any way?”

  She shakes her head no.

  “But?”

  “But he won’t leave me alone.”

  “Tell me what he’s doin’.”

  “He keeps showing up at my house.”

  “How often?”

  “Sometimes two days in a row. Sometimes at night. Sometimes he doesn’t show up for a month. Then he comes back.”

  “And what’s he say?”

  “He wants me to run off with him. Wants me to marry him, and have his children. Says he’s very wealthy and he’ll take care of me.”

  “Do you believe him?”

  “Doesn’t matter what I believe. I’m not interested. But he won’t take no for an answer.”

  “When did all this start?”

  “About six months ago.”

  That’s about the time both Jim and May said Gentry left. But May believes Ge
ntry left with David Wilson. I want to ask Lilly if Wilson ever mentioned Gentry, but I’m pretty sure she’ll say no, and worse, she’ll think I don’t care about what Wilson is doin’ to her. And I do, because her story and Gentry’s are close enough to be twins.

  “Is David Wilson threatenin’ you?”

  “Yes.”

  “How?”

  She looks around again. “He said if I tell anyone he’s been coming around, he’ll kill the person I tell.”

  “He’ll kill them himself? Or have someone else do it?”

  “He didn’t say.”

  “But you believe him?”

  “Yes.”

  “So I’m the first person you’ve told?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why tell me today, and not yesterday?”

  She turns her head away, like she’s embarrassed.

  “It’s okay. You can say it. No matter how it sounds.”

  “When I heard you were in town I was excited. I mean, you used to be the sheriff and all. I couldn’t wait to tell you. But when I saw you…”

  “What?”

  “You seemed so old and helpless. I didn’t think you’d be able to help me.”

  “And now?”

  “I guess you’ve eaten a nice meal, got your hair and beard cut. You’re moving around better. Today you seem more like a sheriff and less like a dying man. No offense.”

  “That’s alright,” I say. Then add, “When Mr. Wilson shows up, is he alone?”

  “Yes, but two men are always standing guard. If he’s at my place, the two men can always be seen on top of the hills facing my house.”

  “Gunmen?”

  “I think so. I’ve never seen them up close. But probably.”

  “Does Wilson appear to be a violent man?”

  “He’s never thrown a fit, or tried to force me to do anything. But he told me he’s losing his patience. He said he always gets what he wants, one way or the other, and he’s decided I’m to be his wife. Said the next time he comes to town, he aims to snatch me up. He said I’d grow to love him, over time.”

  “That sounds violent to me,” I say.

  “Me too.”

  “Do you keep a gun?”

  “Yes sir, but I don’t have any bullets for it. Nor could I shoot a man.”

  “Even if he was trying to steal you away?”

  She thinks about it briefly, then says, “I could never shoot a man.”

  I nod. “Where’s his ranch?”

  “Somewhere in Texas.”

  “He won’t say where?”

  “No sir, though I’ve asked.”

  “Couldn’t be too far into Texas,” I say. “Else he wouldn’t be able to come so often.”

  Lilly doesn’t say anythin’ to that, so I ask, “How long since his last visit?”

  “About a week.”

  “Did he say when he’d be back?”

  “No sir. Just said when he comes I better be ready to say yes.”

  I pause a minute before sayin’, “Lilly, your house is a half mile from town. Long as you’re stayin’ there, I can’t protect you. But if you’ll stay in one of the rooms upstairs, I can make sure nothin’ bad happens to you.”

  “That wouldn’t be proper.”

  “It wouldn’t be proper for Wilson to snatch you up and take you away from your home, neither.”

  “I can’t stay here. People will talk.”

  “They’ll talk worse if Wilson steals you.”

  She starts to cry again, but softly. She dabs her eyes with a handkerchief I’d swear she didn’t possess a minute ago. What is it with Dodge women and their handkerchiefs?

  “Would you stay with Jim and Clara?”

  “It wouldn’t be right to drag them into this. I do believe he’d kill them.”

  I frown. “Then you got no choice. You need to move in here. If you want, I’ll see if I can talk one of the women into stayin’ here with you.”

  “Who would do that?”

  “I believe Margaret Stallings might.”

  She thinks about it. Then says, “If Margaret will stay in the same room with me, I will take you up on your kind offer. But what about Mr. Wilson?”

  “When he shows up in town I’ll kill him.”

  “What if he brings several men with him?”

  “I’ll kill them all. You’ve got my word.”

  “What if you get the leg irons off before he shows up? Won’t you be ridin’ off to find Gentry?”

  “Yes, but that might be quite a long while. Surely David Wilson will show up before then.”

  She nods. “I have a feeling he’ll be back within the week.”

  “There you go,” I say. I realize I’m starin’, and she notices it, but I can’t help it. Her handkerchief is gone. But where?

  Lilly says, “Will you talk to Margaret, or should I?”

  “I’ll ask her.”

  She pauses. Somethin’s on her mind.

  “What?”

  “What about the bear?”

  “Rudy? I’ll put him in my room.”

  “Um…there’s no doors except for the one in your room.”

  She’s right. I’d forgot that part.

  “You and Margaret can bunk in my room. Me and Rudy will sleep in one of the others.”

  “Thank you, Emmett.”

  “You’re quite welcome.”

  She walks over to me and gives me a quick hug. She’s tall enough that her forehead touches my cheek. I smell a scent on her that ain’t perfume or soap, but sweet just the same. It’s a natural scent, and a nice one. This is a fine figure of a woman. Not in Gentry’s league, but mighty close. She suddenly surprises me by kissin’ my cheek. I turn my face toward hers, but she backs up quickly, so I won’t get the wrong impression. I think about how I’ve been kissed by two proper women in the space of sixteen hours, which ain’t somethin’ most men can say.

  As Lilly walks away my eyes are drawn to the gentle sway of her hips. She has that same mesmerizin’ way of walkin’ Gentry has, but Lilly’s is natural, while Gentry’s is practiced. That don’t mean one walks better than the other, ’cause both would cause a man to stare.

  I shake away such thoughts of Lilly and Gentry’s behinds, and replace them with the thought that Gentry didn’t run off with Wilson! If she had, he wouldn’t be makin’ matrimonial offers to Lilly. The fact he never called on Lilly till Gentry disappeared tells me Gentry got away, and he was forced to find someone else.

  I figure Gentry found a way to hide Rudy and get away from David Wilson. And if that happened, my best friend, Shrug, must’ve had a hand in it.

  I say a silent thank you to Shrug, wherever he may be. And expect wherever he is, he’s guardin’ Gentry and Scarlett Rose.

  I’m more convinced than ever that all three of ’em are in Springfield at Rose’s ranch.

  When I shuffle out the front door, I see May standin’ there, waitin’ for me.

  I smile.

  Why, howdy May!” I say, enthusiastically.

  She walks two steps toward me and slaps my face hard. Before I can ask why she done that, she turns and stomps off.

  22.

  IT’S TOO EARLY for Jim to be back from lunch, so I head down the narrow dirt road called Front Street, toward the second-to-last house on the west edge of town. As I approach, Margaret comes out the front door and starts walkin’ toward me.

  “I saw you kickin’ up dust a block away,” she says. “Were you looking for me?”

  “I was.”

  “Why?”

  “I’ve got a big favor to ask.”

  “I hope you don’t want me to pull your pecker like May Gray did last night.”

  I start to say somethin’, then don’t, but feel my face turnin’ red. After awhile I say, “She told you that?”

  “There aren’t many secrets in this town, Emmett. Not with ten women tryin’ to win the heart of a lovesick bachelor.”

  “In any case, that ain’t the favor.”

  “Go
od. Because I’d have to decline.”

  I take a deep breath, then let it out slowly.

  She says, “Where’d you get the horse?”

  “Excuse me?”

  She points behind me. I turn to look, and nearly come out of my skin. There’s a gorgeous roan-colored stallion standin’ four feet behind me. I didn’t hear him sneak up on me, which means it simply couldn’t have happened.

  “You saw him walkin’ toward me?”

  “Of course. Why?”

  “I didn’t hear him come up on me.”

  “So?”

  “I’ve got the finest ears of anyone I know, ’cept for two friends of mine who ain’t normal.”

  “Your hearing is that good?”

  “Ma’am, I can hear a turtle peein’ in a lake, underwater!”

  “Well, I heard him, so what does that say about me?”

  I shake my head.

  “What’s wrong?” she says.

  “This just don’t make sense.”

  Like Scarlett, this horse has two saddlebags, and appears to be waitin’ for me. I briefly wonder if maybe this horse only rides east. If so, maybe he can take me part way to Springfield, which is south-east of Dodge.

  “He ain’t mine,” I say.

  “He acts like he is,” Margaret says.

  “I’ve never seen him before. Have you?”

  “No.”

  I move a few steps to the side, so I can keep an eye on both Margaret and the horse at the same time. It don’t pay to turn my back to a horse I don’t know, nor a town woman who can hear better than me. I wonder if she’s about to suddenly sport a handkerchief in her hand. I almost feel like kickin’ up dust to see if I can determine where the damn things are comin’ from. If I could draw my gun as fast as these town women draw their handkerchiefs, I’d feel a lot more comfortable goin’ up against David Wilson and his hired guns. Which reminds me why I came to see Margaret in the first place.

  On the trail men get to the point quick. In town, you’re supposed to be polite, and wait for what Gentry calls an “ebb in the conversation” before speakin’. I notice the conversation between Margaret and me has died down like the flames in Tom’s fire pit, so I take the opportunity to tell Margaret all the things Lilly Gee told me at the Spur a few minutes ago, and ask if she’d be willin’ to stay there with Lilly and me till David Wilson comes back to town. I ask if she can come over around six tonight.