Savage

by Richard Laymon

  “Well, your head ain’t so ugly, and I didn’t stove it in.”

  “You certainly had a go at it, didn’t you?”

  “I only just meant to knock you off your saddle,” she protested. “If I’d aimed to kill you dead, you’d be stretched out in the dust before now.”

  “I doubt that.”

  “Not me.” She bent over, hitched up a leg of her dungarees, and snatched a knife out of her boot top. It was just about the biggest knife I’d ever seen, the blade near as long as my forearm. She tapped its point against my chest. “This here’s my Bowie knife,” she said.

  I gazed at it, and felt myself shrink and get cold here and there. She’d had that awful weapon all along. If she’d used it instead of the rock, she could’ve split my head open. She hadn’t even gone for it when we were fighting hard on the ground, and there’d been moments when she’d had the chance. She’d chosen not to pull it and gut me.

  “Why didn’t you use it?” I asked.

  “Makes a terrible mess,” she said, and slid it back down into her boot. Standing up straight in front of me, she lost her smile. “I didn’t have any call to kill you. I just needed a horse to ride on.”

  “I’d be pleased to have you ride along double with me,” I told her.

  “Much obliged,” she said.

  She gave me the water pouch. I took my hat off the saddle horn and hung the pouch there by its strap. I needed both hands to mount General, so I put my hat on and winced as it squeezed the lump on my head. Then I reached down. Jesse took hold of my hand, and I gave her a tow as she swung up behind me.

  “Mind?” she asked.

  Before I could inquire what she meant by that, she plucked the hat off my head. “Lost mine down a canyon two days back,” she explained.

  “It seems you’ve lost a good deal.”

  She slapped my shoulder. “Gained more than I’ve lost, pardner.”

  I let her wear my hat.

  She slipped an arm around my waist, and we rode on over to the trail. It was strange, having a girl behind me, hanging onto me, sometimes brushing up against my back. I rather enjoyed it, actually.

  After I’d seen that Bowie knife, I couldn’t help but trust her. I couldn’t help but like her, too. She was tough and had more gumption than any gal I’d ever run across. Even though she’d tried to steal General and she’d hurt me some, I judged she must have a good heart or she would’ve cut me open.

  She was awful pretty, too.

  I took to feeling glad she’d jumped me.

  Maybe we’d stay together all the way to Tombstone.

  But by and by she said, “I sure could do with a smoke.”

  The words were rocks that crushed my joy.

  “I haven’t any makings, I’m afraid.”

  “Too bad.”

  Too bad. Quite.

  She’s bound to end up as dead as McSween, I thought. Dead as everybody else who’s crossed my trail.

  There was only one way to save Jesse. I had to get clear of her, and soon.

  But I’d told her she could ride with me, and the notion of going against my word didn’t set well. Besides, it wouldn’t be right to leave her alone in the wilderness without a horse and supplies. So I was stuck with her, at least for now.

  Glad to be stuck with her, too, though it worried me.

  I’ll just have to see that she doesn’t get killed, I told myself.

  The trick was to keep her alive, and let her stay with me till we came to a town or met up with some folks who might be willing to take her off my hands.

  We rode on and on. Sometime late in the afternoon we came up behind a buckboard pulled by a pair of mules. It was still a ways off when I saw it had a boy in the back, a man and a woman in the driver’s box. This looked like an outfit that might not mind an extra passenger.

  The kid was maybe eight years or nine years old. He sat amidst of a jumble of luggage and supplies, so I judged the family likely had food to spare. I couldn’t see how they might object to taking Jesse along if I paid them for their troubles.

  But it didn’t seem right to foist her off on these folks without warning, so I said, “I should think this family might be pleased to have your company. Perhaps we’ll ask if they’d be willing to let you travel with them.”

  She didn’t answer. Pretty quick, though, she smacked the back of my shoulder.

  “Say, now!”

  “Dirty sidewinder.”

  “You’ll be better off.”

  “I’m just fine right here, thanks all the same.” Then she fetched me another smack.

  “Quit that.”

  “You ain’t gonna drop me off with a passel of strangers. Get it outa your head.”

  We were just drawing up on the buckboard, the kid waving, the man and woman in front both turning around to see us, when Jesse called out “Gee-yup!” and gave General a whap on the rump. He took off with a lurch. I had half a mind to pull in the reins, but instead I let him trot on until we’d left the bunch a ways behind us.

  General settled down to a walk.

  “I don’t see why you had to do that,” I said.

  Jesse didn’t talk for a spell. Finally, she said, “I thought you and me was pardners.”

  “You’d be better off with those folks.”

  “How do you know that, Mister Smarty? How do you know the pa—if that’s what he even is—don’t take a horsewhip to his wife and boy eighteen times a day just to exercise his arm?”

  “It wouldn’t have hurt to have a talk with them. They might’ve been quite friendly.”

  “How come you’re so all-fired hot to throw me off on someone else?”

  “I don’t care to see you hurt.”

  “You fixing to hurt me?”

  “Why, no. Certainly not. The problem is, you’re likely to get hurt if you stay with me. You just won’t last, not unless you get clear while there’s still time.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “I don’t know, actually. But I’ve left behind me an awful string of dead folks.”

  “You got a sickness?”

  “Nothing more than bad luck.”

  “Well, that eases my mind. You near had me scared. I saw a feller caught himself a dose of the rabies, one time. He took to cavorting down the street all wild-eyed and slobbering. You never seen such a sight. He went to bite old lady Jones, and Sheriff Hayes dropped him stone cold dead. That was in El Paso three years back. Saw it happen with my very own eyes. They say it was a dog bite. You get yourself bit by a rabid hound, you might just as well cash in your chips then and there. That’s what I’d do, blow out my own brains and call it quits. You don’t want to make a fool outa yourself, foaming all over tarnation and snapping at folks so they have to shoot you.”

  “You won’t catch rabies from me,” I told her.

  “When was the last time you got yourself bitten?”

  “Earlier today, actually.”

  She let out a laugh and slapped my arm, but not hard. “Smarty.”

  “I do hope I won’t commence to slobber and snap.”

  My hat suddenly got shoved down onto my head. “Ow!”

  “You better wear it for a spell. The sun’s getting to your brain.”

  I lifted it some so it wouldn’t squeeze my bump. We rode on for a while, then Jesse said, “So what was it that killed off such a string of folks?”

  “Mostly guns and knives.”

  “But you ain’t the one that done ‘em in?”

  “I didn’t kill my friends. But plenty of them ended up dead on account of me, so it’s much the same thing.”

  “How’d you manage all that?”

  “It’s rather as if I led them into trouble, you see. Not that I did such things on purpose. But those folks got killed, anyhow. I’m afraid the same might happen to you.”

  “Well, don’t go worrying about me.”

  “I can’t avoid it, actually.”

  “You won’t get me killed, so quit bothering your head about it. W
hen my number comes up, it won’t be on account of you. It’ll be my own dang fault. You can bet on that.”

  “It shall be your own dang fault, quite right. It’ll be your stubborn ways. I’ve warned you fair and square.” I turned General and looked back down the trail. The buckboard was still a distance off, but getting closer. “You ought to reconsider.”

  “Nope. I’d a sight rather take my chances with your bad luck, which I don’t believe anyhow, than join up with them folks.”

  “You claimed you’re not addle-headed.”

  “That man, he’d take after me. It’s what men do.”

  “He’s married, Jesse.”

  “That ain’t likely to stop him. He’ll just bide his time till he can get me alone, maybe tonight when his woman’s sleeping or maybe he’ll just go and try me right in front of her eyes. Some fellers ain’t particular who watches.”

  “You’re daft.”

  “I know what I know. It’ll happen, sure as you’re sitting there. And then I’d be forced to give him a taste of my knife. More than likely, the widow’d lose her head when she saw how I’d carved her husband. Wouldn’t matter that he was no good and better dead. He was her husband and the father of her boy, so she’d throw a fit and grab a gun and shoot me. Then I’d be killed. And you know what? Every last bit of such a sorry business would be all your fault for passing me off on these folks.”

  I twisted around on the saddle and gazed at her. She looked grim, but had the usual spark of mischief in her green eyes.

  “When was it now,” I asked, “that you kissed the Blarney stone?”

  “What’re you getting at?”

  “I’ve rarely heard such malarkey.”

  “Malarkey?”

  “Outrageous nonsense.”

  “You just don’t know nothing at all.”

  General stepped off the trail without any urging from me as the buckboard closed in on us. But he needn’t have bothered. The fellow with the reins brought his mules to a stop in time to miss us, even if we hadn’t moved.

  “Vahs iss dee problem?” he asked. I’d run into a German or two back home and took him for one because of the odd and spitty way he talked.

  Before I could answer, Jesse said, “No problem.”

  He scowled at her. He looked like a hard man. Maybe Jesse hadn’t been far off the mark with her notion that he enjoyed taking a horsewhip to his family. The gal beside him kept her head down as if she was bashful. She wore a white linen bonnet. I couldn’t see her face at all. The boy in the rear of the wagon watched us, but kept mum.

  “Iss dis your sister?” the fellow asked me.

  “She lost her horse,” I explained. “I’ve been giving her a ride.”

  “Allzo,” he said, whatever that meant. One of his dark eyebrows climbed up his forehead. “Vee take dis froyloyn. She komm mit, yes?”

  At that, the gal raised her head. Her face was all ablush. She was working her lower lip between her teeth and she stared at Jesse with a jittery look in her eyes.

  Well, then she shook her head just a bit. It wasn’t much of a shake, but enough so the man noticed it. He spat some words at her. They didn’t make any sense at all to me, but she cringed and dropped her head.

  Now that she was taken care of, he gave me a sly grin and said, “Vaht vant you for her? I give you dee five dollar, yes?”

  “I don’t reckon so,” I said.

  “Nine?”

  “He wants to buy me, Trevor.”

  “She isn’t for sale,” I said.

  “But yes. Vee feel?”

  Jesse snapped, “Nobody lays a hand on me, you damn polecat!”

  Scowling fierce, he lurched to his feet there in the driver’s box, jabbed a finger at her and hissed, “Sheeson!”

  The word wasn’t out his mouth before I had a Colt in my fist.

  He gave it a glance, frowned some, then came back at me with his oily grin. “Ten dollar?”

  “Bugger off,” I said, then wheeled General around and put in the spurs. We galloped on down the trail till a rocky bend put the buckboard out of sight.

  Pretty soon after we’d slowed down to a walk, Jesse pushed her head against me. Her hair tickled the back of my neck. “Sure glad you didn’t sell me off to that pig,” she said.

  “I wonder if he might’ve gone up to twenty.”

  She bumped her head against me fairly solid. A bit later, I heard a few sniffles. It crossed my mind she might be crying, but that didn’t seem likely. Not Jesse.

  Just in case she might still be worried, though, I said, “You can ride with me for just as long as you like. I won’t try to give you away again. Or sell you, either.”

  She leaned more of herself against my back and wrapped both her arms around my middle. She gave me a squeeze, then said, “See that you don’t.”

  CHAPTER FORTY

  The Damsel in Distress

  Later on, we came to a shallow creek that crossed the trail. Even though we still had some daylight left and could’ve gone on, it usually doesn’t hurt to camp by water. I’d had no trouble yet with running low. It was dry country, though. If we moved on, no telling when we might run into another place with good water.

  Other folks were likely to have the same notion. I didn’t want company, and figured Jesse felt that way, too, so we followed the creek north till we were a good distance from the trail.

  We found a fine spot that had high piles of rock on two sides, and even a few scrawny trees. They’d give us shade till the sun went down, and block out some of the wind that usually stirred up cold at night.

  As I unsaddled General, Jesse said, “You just stay here and don’t you dare come looking for me. I’m going upstream for a spell.”

  She wandered off. I stayed where I was, finished removing all my gear from General, set down the sack of oats for him, and groomed him while he ate. When I got done, Jesse still wasn’t back yet. I let General wander down to the creek, but didn’t follow him.

  The reason Jesse had warned me off, I judged, was so she’d have privacy for bathing. It stirred me up some, thinking about that. I took a notion to climb the rocks and spy on her. It seemed like a lowdown thing to do, though. Besides, she might catch me at it and get riled.

  So I hauled my saddle into the shade under a tree and leaned back against it to make myself comfortable. A soft breeze was blowing. I closed my eyes and listened to the birds. It was uncommon peaceful and nice. I might’ve drifted off to sleep except that my mind wouldn’t let go of Jesse.

  I kept remembering how she’d looked when we were fighting, her shirt open as she threw punches at me. And how she’d looked later, sprawled on the ground. She might be in the creek right now without a stitch on. It was almost more than a body could stand.

  I pictured how she might look, all bare and wet. Quite a bit slimmer than Sarah, not near as curvy, more like a boy. I wondered what her breasts might feel like. They weren’t near as large as Sarah’s. They’d looked like they might be hard, but then I recalled how they’d jiggled some while she swung at me. So they couldn’t be terribly hard. Likely not as soft as Sarah’s, though.

  I recalled my first night in Sarah’s bed, and how she’d cured me of being put off by breasts. Then I was thinking about the other fine times I’d had with Sarah. There’d been the dancing and the baths and all those other times we’d ended up having at each other. But there’d been the rest of it, too. Trips into town, horse rides and picnics, and the pure pleasure of just being with her—talking or reading, doing chores or sharing meals.

  Pretty soon, I was missing her something terrible.

  If only I hadn’t seen that story about Whittle in the newspaper, we might still be at the house.

  That set me to thinking about our railroad trip, and I got angry remembering Briggs. If that no-account hadn’t thrown me off the train, we’d be together yet.

  But he had thrown me off.

  And I’d joined up with the gang.

  It seemed likely that I would never s
ee Sarah again. No telling where she might’ve gone to, by now. Maybe she’d traveled on to California with Briggs. I sure hoped not. But if she was fool enough to get pulled in by the likes of him, she deserved no better.

  It made me feel ornery, thinking that way about her. I told myself she was too good for him, too smart for him. What she’d probably done was turn around and gone home to Coney Island. I hoped so.

  That way, I would be able to find her again after I’d finished my business with Whittle.

  Except I won’t, I thought.

  Till now, I hadn’t given it much real thought. But I’d known, way in the back of my mind, that me and Sarah were finished. It finished between us the night I shot down those posse men.

  After that, I was no longer fit for her.

  Sarah and even Mother herself were good women. I was no better than a murderer. Best for all concerned if I never saw either one of them again.

  I judged they’d be better off without me, anyway, on account of how they’d likely end up killed.

  The same went for Jesse. But I was stuck with her.

  I recalled how she’d put her arms around me there on the trail after we’d left the German behind. It seemed clear she was growing rather fond of me. I couldn’t deny that I’d gotten fond of her, too.

  She was full of gumption and her sassy ways appealed to me. Even if she’d been an ugly thing, I would’ve enjoyed her company. But she was awful pretty. Too pretty.

  If I didn’t watch out, I might find myself purely infatuated with her. That wouldn’t do, at all.

  I won’t allow it, I told myself.

  I’ll only take her as far as the next town.

  I won’t spy on her. I won’t touch her. I won’t even think about her being a girl.

  She’s just someone who needs a ride.

  My job’s keeping her alive long enough to leave her behind.

  After making up my mind about that, I felt somewhat better about the situation. I felt pretty near gallant. Jesse was a damsel in distress, me a knight determined not to lose my heart to her and only to fulfill my mission of delivering her to a safe haven.

  With that settled, I figured it might be time to rouse my bones and start a fire. So I opened my eyes, and there was Jesse watching me. She sat nearby in a patch of sunlight, barefoot, arms resting across her upraised knees. Her ankles were wet. Water dripped off the cuffs of her dungarees. Her blue shirt was damp and clinging to her. It wasn’t tucked in, but she’d used her belt to hold it shut around her waist. Her face glistened with specks of water. Her short hair wasn’t fluffy any more, but lay against her head in thick, golden loops. A few of those hung across her brow. Two on the sides curled down in front of her ears and came to points.