Then he frowned at me and straightened up again. “Only one problem,” he said.
“Indeed, I should think there might be at least one.”
“I’ve been fixing to save this fellow for demonstration purposes after I got him to Tucson. I can’t lose him now for just one sale.”
“Then you wish me to buy more than one?”
“A revivification oughta be worth five bottles.”
“I’ll purchase ten if he’s truly dead and he comes back to life.”
“That’ll cost you ten dollars. Are you traveling with enough?”
His question put me off even more than the prospect of seeing a dead man inside the casket.
I suddenly knew the name of his game.
He had no intention of revivifying the corpse.
He hadn’t been inside the wagon for long, but long enough to slip Buster into the box alongside the body.
“I have ten dollars to spare,” I said.
“You sure?”
“Open it up.”
“By and by,” he said. “We have one other small matter requiring discussion.”
“Yes?”
He toed the casket. “Like I say, I aim to use him at Tucson. He won’t do me no good at all, alive and kicking. So I don’t want you causing a fuss when it comes to rekilling him.”
“Certainly not,” I said.
“I’ll need to strangulate him, you see. It won’t be a pretty sight.”
“It’s quite all right with me,” I said, knowing it wouldn’t come to that.
“What I’m saying, Trevor—don’t get overly fond of him.”
“Not likely,” I said.
He bent down over the casket again. As he shoved the lid off, I switched the Elixir to my left hand, dropped my right to my six-gun.
Lazarus didn’t reach inside, so I didn’t pull.
I stepped closer, holding my breath to keep out the awful stench.
No sign of Buster.
Just a dead man.
A skinny chap who didn’t look to be much older than thirty, wearing boots, dungarees, a dirty plaid shirt and a noose. The noose was loose around his neck, the looped bundle of the hangman’s knot resting atop his chest and the cut end of the rope dangling off to the side. His neck looked as if it had been polished with boot black. His tongue was black, too. It stuck out from between his teeth. His face had a nasty grayish color. There were pennies on his eyes to hold the lids shut. I was relieved to find his eyes covered, but thought it a spot peculiar that the pennies hadn’t fallen off, what with how the casket had gotten jostled about.
Lazarus gave each penny a flick. They skittered away and rolled about the bottom of the box. The eyes stayed shut.
“Would you care to do the honors?” he asked.
I shook my head, and handed him the bottle of Elixir.
Lazarus uncorked it with his teeth. He spat out the cork. It missed the dead man’s face.
“You might prefer to stand back, Trevor. These fellows can get awful frisky.”
I was happy to oblige. I stood back and breathed again. The stink was still there, sour and sweet at the same time, but if I moved any farther off, I wouldn’t be able to keep a close watch.
I stayed ready, just in case Lazarus had tucked Buster out of sight underneath the corpse.
The first thing he did, he tucked the black tongue inside the fellow’s mouth where it belonged. He pulled down on the jaw to make a bigger target, then commenced to pour Elixir out of the bottle. Some of it missed, splashing the gray lips and running down the whiskery cheeks. But some found its way into the mouth. I saw that his teeth were gray, which seemed a mite peculiar. But then the Elixir dyed them red.
Lazarus quit pouring.
The dead fellow just laid there.
I took myself a deep breath, then held it and stepped up close. Standing directly above the corpse, I could see a little pool of Elixir down there inside his mouth. It didn’t appear to be going anywhere.
He gulped.
I flinched and jumped back.
With a whiny noise, he sucked in air. Then he let it out with a loud sigh.
He licked his lips, then opened up as if he hankered for another dose.
Lazarus obliged him.
The fellow’s Adam’s apple bobbed up and down. He swallowed just as fast as Lazarus could dump Elixir in.
“That should do him.” Lazarus uncrouched himself and rushed backward.
I moved away some, and breathed again.
I didn’t rightly know what to make of all this, but I was sure keen to see what would happen next.
What happened next was, the fellow let out a squeal that made my hair rise. Then he bolted up, buggy-eyed and wheezing, grabbed the edges of his box and leaped to his feet. He looked down at himself. He glanced at Lazarus, then at me. Then he cried out, “Whoooeeee!” and commenced to clap his hands and prance about on the floor of his casket. “I’m saved!” he yelled. “Lordy, Lordy, I’m saved!” Well, he hopped over the side and bounded toward me, weeping and laughing.
I was just too shocked and perplexed to get clear of him in time. He grabbed me and hugged me and kissed my cheek. And didn’t he stink! I shoved him off, and he went skipping over to Lazarus and gave him a slew of hugs and kisses.
Lazarus acted more friendly toward him than I’d done. I reckon he was used to such doings. Instead of trying to free himself from the creature, he hugged him and patted his head. “No call to take on,” he said. “You’re fine. You’re just fine, young man.”
“I was hung! I was dead and gone!”
“You’ve been revivified,” Lazarus explained, giving him another hug. “You’ve been returned to the land of the living with the aid of my patented Glory Elixir.”
“Glory Elixir?”
“Good for what ails you.”
“Glory! Glory hallelujah!” He broke away from Lazarus and I feared he might come after me again, but instead he dropped to his knees and hoisted his arms into the air. He gloried and hallelujahed for quite a spell.
He was still at it when Lazarus stepped around him. He walked toward me, looking solemn and thoughtful. “You’ve witnessed the miracle,” he said.
“Witnessed something.”
He laid an arm across my shoulders and led me toward the wagon. “It’s truly a wondrous thing to behold, the restorative power of the Glory Elixir. It revives the dead! Just imagine the curative miracles that such a fluid works on the living, such as yourself. Why, with ten bottles at your disposal, I’ve no doubt but what you’ll find yourself fit as a fiddle for a century at the very least.”
We stopped at the rear of the wagon, and he climbed in.
While Lazarus was out of sight, I turned my attention to the other fellow. He was still on his knees, but he’d quit acting strange. His face had the same dingy gray hue as when he’d been dead, which was odd. Now that he was breathing again, seemed like his skin should’ve taken on a healthier color.
When he saw me looking at him, he smiled.
“How’d you like being dead?” I asked.
“Not much,” he said.
“If you don’t care for it, you’d best hurry off. Lazarus aims to rekill you.”
“Trevor!” Lazarus shouted from inside the wagon.
“I thought he ought to know, actually.”
The revived fellow wasn’t smiling any more. But he wasn’t lighting out, either.
“You’d best skedaddle,” I warned him.
He just stayed kneeling there.
Lazarus crawled backward, dragging a wooden box out through the blanket. “Why’d you want to tell him such things?” he asked. He sounded a trifle peeved.
“Well, don’t worry yourself. He’s still here.”
After climbing down, Lazarus called to him, “The lad’s joshing you.”
“Oh, I know that, Jethro.”
Dr. Jethro Lazarus rolled his eyes heavenward. Then he pulled a bottle from the box, just as if nothing had gone amiss. “The
re’s one,” he said, and handed it to me.
“You told me you intended to rekill him,” I said.
“Don’t mean he has to know it.”
“He’ll know it quickly enough when you have a go at throttling him.”
“I’ll make it quick and painless.”
“Tell you what, I’ll make it quicker.” Well, I swung around and tossed the bottle into my left hand and slapped leather with my right.
Lazarus yelled, “No!”
His buddy yelled, “Don’t!”
Then my Colt was blazing, blasting up dust all around him. He sprang to his feet. He dodged about.
“Hold still!” I shouted.
He froze and reached for the sky.
“Please! Don’t! Don’t shoot!”
“No call to fret,” I told him, and took careful aim at his chest. “Dr. Lazarus’ll revive you.”
Lazarus chuckled. “I do believe we’ve been found out.”
“He’s fixing to plug me!”
Shaking my head, I holstered the Colt.
The dead fellow looked quite relieved. He came toward us, watching me careful. Along the way, he dug a hand into a pocket of his trousers and dragged out a sort of rodent by its tail. It looked as flat as if it had gotten stepped on. He gave it a fling and it thumped into the casket. “How’d he catch on?” he asked Lazarus.
“You called me by my name, dummy.”
“It was more than that,” I said, rather pleased with myself. For the first time since the big shootout at the camp, I didn’t feel horrible. I found myself smiling. “Why, do you two frauds actually fool folks with your game?”
“More often than not,” Lazarus said.
His partner came up to us. Even without the dead critter, he didn’t smell any too fresh. “I’m Ely,” he said, and stuck out his hand.
It was the same hand he’d used to rid himself of the rotten carcass, so I didn’t shake it but touched the brim of my hat instead. “Trevor Bentley,” I said.
“Glad you didn’t poke me full of lead. Care for a licorice?” He dug into his other pocket and came out with a stick.
It put me in mind of Sarah, and how we always ate just such candy when we visited town. I felt a little pull of sadness, but that passed as I realized Ely’d used the licorice to blacken up his tongue and lips. It had darkened his teeth, too. I’d seen they were gray, which hadn’t seemed right. Death shouldn’t do that to a man’s teeth. I hadn’t caught on, though.
“No thank you,” I told him, not wanting any truck with something he’d handled. “I don’t wish to turn my tongue black.”
They both laughed some at that. Ely tore off a piece of licorice and commenced to chew.
“Bootblack on your neck, is it?” I asked.
Lazarus clapped me on the shoulder. “You’re too quick for the likes of us.”
“And how is it you made your face such a color?” I asked Ely.
“Ashes,” he said. He licked a finger in spite of it being one that had plucked the dead thing from his pocket, and took a swipe at his face. A path of gray came off. He had ruddy skin underneath. He grinned like he’d shown me a secret of the universe.
“You two blokes certainly went to a fair piece of trouble on my account.”
“A sale’s a sale,” Lazarus said. “No hard feelings, I hope.”
“Well, you put on a lively show. Did you try it out on that pair of rascals that came along before me?”
Lazarus shook his head. “I’m afraid we missed the opportunity. They rode up on us too quick. Had a chance to spot Ely.”
“You don’t travel along in the casket, then?” I asked the deceased.
He grinned, chewing and showing me his licoriced teeth. “Gets a mite close in there.”
“I should think so. A mite smelly, too.”
“Oh, Ely don’t mind the smell.”
“Nope,” he said, and bit off another piece of licorice.
“You two certainly do beat all.”
“Now,” Lazarus said, “how many bottles of the Glory Elixir do you suppose you might like to purchase?”
I still held a bottle of the stuff. I shook it, and watched the red fluid slosh about. “What’s it made of?”
“Secret herbs and spices from the Far East, guaranteed to…”
“Quit having me on, now.”
“Gin and cherry syrup,” Lazarus said.
“Is it, now?” Well, I believed him. I uncorked my bottle, took a sniff, then drank some. It tasted mighty fine and sweet, scorched my throat, and heated up my stomach. “And what does it cure, actually?”
Lazarus laughed. “Sobriety.”
Though I had a vivid recollection of my bout with a hangover following too much whiskey with the boys, I judged that some Glory Elixir might be a fine thing to sip now and again. But then I figured Ely might’ve had a hand in filling the bottles. Real quick, I lost my thirst for the stuff.
“Suppose I pay you a dollar for the show, and you keep your Elixir?”
Lazarus scowled and rubbed his beard. Pretty soon, he said, “I tell you what. You keep your dollar and ride along with us. Scout up ahead. Then you let us know quick when someone’s coming along so Ely can get himself set for a demonstration. We’ll pay you handsomely for your services, give you ten cents on every bottle sold. How does that appeal to you, Trevor?”
I gave it some thought, then said I’d do it.
I went on over to General, mounted up, then waited while they loaded the casket into the wagon. It was good to be out of smelling range of Ely.
When they got the wagon moving, I rode on ahead.
They were quite a pair of rascals. They’d livened me up considerable with their antics.
For a while there, I aimed to follow the plan and scout ahead for them. It’d be a treat to see them have a go at tricking some folks.
I figured I might travel with them all the way to Tucson. They seemed like good company, if you don’t count Ely’s aroma.
I could see how we might get to be chums.
But chums of mine don’t last.
If I stayed with them, they were bound to end up dead. Same as everyone else.
So I chose to spare them.
I was some distance ahead of their wagon by then, so all it took was to quicken General’s pace. By the time I looked back, they were out of sight.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
I Get Jumped
Later on that same day, another wagon came along. This one had a man and woman up front and a boy about my own age riding a mare alongside. I considered warning them not to be fooled by Lazarus and Ely, but chose to let them look out for themselves. If they were fools enough to fall for such a swindle, they deserved it. Besides, I judged it’d be lowdown of me to ruin business for those two chaps.
All I did was say “Howdy” as I rode by. The woman acted like I wasn’t there at all, but the man and boy watched me close as if they feared I might be a desperado looking for a chance to gun them down.
Lazarus and Ely weren’t likely to have much luck with this crowd.
Nobody else came along. When the sun got low, I put some distance between me and the trail. I found a sheltered place in a dry wash. After seeing to General, I did some shooting practice. Then I made myself a fire and cooked up a can of beans.
Now that I’d regained my appetite, the beans didn’t seem altogether satisfying. They filled me up, but I had an awful hankering for fresh meat.
After supper, I felt like having a smoke. Didn’t have any makings, though. They were back at the old campsite with the rest of McSween’s things.
I turned gloomy, remembering McSween.
So I pulled a whiskey bottle out of my saddle bag. It had belonged to Breakenridge. I’d taken it, along with the gang’s ammunition and money and some other supplies, even though I hadn’t the heart to take McSween’s tobacco and paper.
I uncorked the bottle and worked on it. It didn’t have the good, sweet taste of the Glory Elixir. But it had never be
en touched by Ely, either, so that was a clear advantage.
The whiskey didn’t perk up my spirits much.
I quit while I still had my wits about me, and turned in.
The next day, I returned to the trail. I still had a hunger for fresh meat, so I kept my eyes open.
There were birds about, magpies and hawks mostly, but a gunshot was likely to blow such a thing to smithereens if I was lucky enough to hit one. McSween had told me once that rattlers made good eating, but not a one showed itself. I figured that was for the best, as I wasn’t keen on the notion of chowing down a snake.
I did spot a few gophers or prairie dogs. They’d poke their little heads up out of holes, I’d dismount and have a crack at them with the Winchester, miss, and go on my way again.
It was starting to look like I’d be eating beans from here to the next town. But then, long about noon, I caught sight of a jackrabbit as it hopped away from behind a boulder about fifty yards off.
I lit out after it.
The critter led me a merry chase, but I closed in, slapped leather, and shot from the saddle. My first bullet knocked its brains out.
Feeling mighty pleased with myself, I dismounted and fetched my knife. It had been Snooker’s knife, which he’d always worn on his belt. I carried it in one of my saddlebags as I hadn’t figured out a good way to wear it, what with having holsters at both hips.
Anyhow, I unsheathed the knife and gutted the hare and cut off its head and skinned it. I couldn’t see much advantage to waiting, so I built a fire and cooked it up on the spot. It smelled just splendid as it sizzled away. By and by, the outside turned a lovely golden brown. I took my meal off the fire, then had to wait for it to cool down.
I ate the hare right off the spit and it tasted simply delicious. When about half was gone, I judged it’d be a fine thing to save some for supper. So I wrapped the remainder in a cloth and put it into a saddlebag along with my knife.
Then I climbed onto General and we headed back for the trail.
We were almost there, passing through a gap between some boulders, when my head got clobbered. Whatever it was thumped me solid through the crown of my hat and shook my brains. I couldn’t see anything but red as I tumbled sideways and bounced off some rocks. After I hit the ground, my vision came around in time to let me watch General prance so as not to step on me.
Savage Page 30