The Clements Kettle

by Erik Carter

  Lilly tried to yell something from the back of the wagon. Her gag muffled her. She was clearly steaming.

  “Sorry, Miss Cosgrove,” Mory said. “How insensitive of me.” He turned back to me. “Jeff followed you around a couple more days in Desecho, and after you had your little heartfelt goodbye at Lilly’s mansion, he grabbed her. I gotta tell you, Barn, I was touched. Jeff tells me you were real sweet to her when you left. It’s all so very cute. Of course, Jeff couldn’t find the kettle anywhere in the mansion, nor could he get Lilly or her twit of a butler to admit where it was. So he took her instead. And here we sit at the top of Culver Canyon; you have the kettle, and I have the gal.”

  “That’s right,” I said. “And if you turn her over unharmed, you’ll get to keep your head.”

  Mory laughed. “That’s rich, Barn. But let’s talk a little business, here. This whole time I’ve been planning on selling the kettle back to Jake’s buddy Kurt at a hefty price, but since you’re here, Jake, I’ll sell it to you. Maybe you can take it to Kurt yourself and make some profit of your own.”

  “I’m not like you, Kline!” Jake said.

  “That’s entirely unfortunate for you, young man,” Mory said and turned to me. “Well, let’s get on with it. Toss it over here.”

  I threw the kettle over to Mory. He caught it casually, so perfectly that you might have thought we’d practiced this kettle toss all afternoon. It’s moments like this—when the two of us seem to have an unspoken connection—I get really disturbed.

  Mory turned the kettle over in his hands. He stopped. His fingers strummed the handle, and he laughed. He dropped the kettle to the ground.

  “That’s not a Clements kettle,” he said. “You brought me a ringer? I would have expected more from you, Barn. So here’s where we are, huh? You’re gonna try to turn your own profit on it?”

  I started to reply, but before I could, Jake yelled out to Mory. “Listen to me!” he said. “He doesn’t have the kettle. Barnaby and Lilly didn’t have a third person at the mansion. It was Kurt. Kurt trailed Barnaby and Lilly out to Tucson too. He took the kettle, and it drove him crazy. And now the kettle’s gone for good. Kurt was the one who took it and killed Macintosh, you stupid fool!”

  Mory looked at him for a moment. “Well this certainly changes things, doesn’t it?” He clicked his tongue. “You win some, you lose some. At least he killed Macintosh for me. Lord, what a ruthless bastard that Kurt Leonard ended up being. He took care of both my worst enemies. Two for the price of none.”

  Mory took a deep breath and sighed. He looked up at the sky. Presently there was silence among the folks sitting at the edge of Dead Kids Slope. Crickets chirped rhythmically, and the sound echoed off the distant canyon walls below us.

  I broke the silence. “It’s over now, Mory. Your enemies are dead, but the kettle is gone. What does a guy like you do when he gets himself into a fix like this?”

  Mory smiled. “He cuts his losses.” He turned and looked at Jeff.

  Jeff smiled and let out a piggish giggle. He yanked the rope in his hand.

  And the chock pulled away from the wagon’s wheel.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  There was a split second of hope, not even a full tick of a clock, where the wagon sat motionless and creaking.

  Then it took off in a flash.

  Lilly’s head dropped from view as she tumbled over. Her shrill scream faded away as the wagon quickly began to disappear.

  Instinct hit me. I gave Bob a nudge, and he was flying toward the wagon. He didn’t need a kick, nor a giddy-up. Bob’s instinct had set in too. Say what you will, but he’s got it where it counts. In an instant he’d turned from a lazy, disobedient grass-chewer to a fire-breathing mythological beast of yore.

  We’d gotten a good jump, but the wagon was way up in front of us. It was shaking something fierce as it bounced viciously over the rough terrain. I tried not to think of how petrified Lilly must have been in there, how badly the bed of the wagon must have been knocking her about each time it rolled over another rock or pit.

  Gunshots rang out from above. Either the other fellas had gotten into a firefight, or one of the bad guys was shooting at Lilly and me. Neither option was good.

  I tell you, that wagon was absolutely flying. It was getting away from me.

  “Come on, Bob!” I said and smacked his ass. “Let’s close this gap!”

  I pushed Bob harder and harder. His feet pounded in a thunderous cavalcade. His large sheets of muscle rippled and undulated. We were starting to gain on it.

  Lilly’s head popped up in the back of the wagon. Her eyes were a mile wide. She reached up with her small bound hands and grabbed the canvas of the wagon’s top, getting herself to her knees. The wagon hit another rock and jolted hard. She stumbled but clenched on hard to the cloth, held herself up.

  Bob’s head bobbed rhythmically. The tremors of his hooves rode up my legs all the way to my head.

  Bob and I were getting closer and closer. I could now see every detail of Lilly’s face. She was trying to yell something at me. I could hear nothing but the thunder of Bob’s hooves and the horrible rattling of the wagon.

  I stole a glance toward the edge of the cliff. It was approaching rapidly, a big black pit expanding out to the periphery. Maybe a couple hundred feet away now.

  We were within a few feet of the wagon. I stood up in the saddle and stretched out an arm. Lilly reached out with her tied hands. Not as close as I thought. Still a few feet to go.

  “Come on, Bob!” I yelled.

  Bob gave it all he had. We closed in. Lilly reached out grimacing. She was bouncing around terribly now that she wasn’t holding on to the top.

  Closer yet. A foot away. I stretched, and Lilly reached out to me. Inches away.

  The cliff was looming ever closer. It was real now. The edge was sharp. The pit was black.

  Bob snorted. Drool flung from his gaping mouth. Lilly and my fingertips were an inch apart. They brushed. Then the wagon retracted again.

  “Come on, Bob! He-yah!”

  I reached and reached until I thought my stomach would tear in two. Lilly was straining too. Her face was flushed.

  The cliff opened its jaws to receive us.

  Our fingers touched again. They slid through one another, bounced about. I clenched down hard on the saddle and reached again. I wrapped my hand around hers, squeezed down as hard, disregarding the delicacy of her fingers. If I broke them, they could heal later. Her fingers or her life? I chose her life.

  Her palms were sweaty. She dug her fingernails into my wrist. I tried to wiggle my finger into the knot around her wrists. It was very tight. Mory had done a number on her. Bastard. I had a fingertip under the rope, and I put—

  There was tremendous bang, and Lilly’s hands flew out of mine. The wagon had rolled into a mammoth rock. The wheel splintered and collapsed on impact, then the whole wagon tumbled to the ground.

  “Lilly!”

  The wagon didn’t just split open. It erupted in an explosion of creaking, dry wood, cloth, and rusted metal. Pieces flew about. I had to duck to avoid a chunk of pine. The whole thing somersaulted on itself, its nucleus getting smaller and smaller as chunks of it were thrown this way and that. For a moment, I thought Lilly must surely be dead. But then I saw her.

  She was very much alive. She was sliding on her stomach, her feet going toward the cliff and her face looking back up at me desperately. She was still wearing the riding clothes she had on when I last saw her, which was good because there was no way one of the skirts or dresses she usually wore would have held up to the beating she was taking on the ground right now. It looked like her pants were holding up well enough, but she still had to be hurting like hell. Her eyes pleaded with me, and her hands made futile motions in my direction.

  I swerved Bob to the left to avoid one of the wheels. We jumped over a big section of the bed. We twisted this way and that, a veritable obstacle course of wreckage.

  When we cleared th
e last piece of the wagon, I found the distance between us and Lilly had grown even larger. She was drawing closer and closer to the cliff edge. Maybe a hundred feet away.

  I urged Bob on yet again. The poor guy. He wasn’t going to be able to take much more of this.

  We got closer and closer to Lilly. I could hear her screaming even over the thudding of Bob’s hooves. She was right in front of us. I gave Bob a little kick, and we pulled up beside her. I leaned over in my saddle, reached way down to my left where Lilly was sliding. A dust cloud surrounded her. Her high-pitched squealing filled my ears.

  I stretched out toward her once more. My arm was going to separate after all this stretching. I tried for the back of her shirt. She was just too far out of reach.

  I glanced up. The cliff was close. Deadly close. I could feel Bob starting to tense, beginning to slow up ever so slightly.

  If I reached any farther out of my saddle I was going to fall out. So I did the next best thing.

  I jumped.

  I leapt right out of the saddle. The way I figured, I had one chance to save Lilly. I couldn’t reach her from the saddle, and Bob wasn’t going to take us much closer to that cliff edge. I’d have to start from the ground level, so to speak. My plan was to grab her as we both slid toward the cliff, then secure us both before we fell over. How was I going to do this, one might wonder? Not sure. Hadn’t gotten that far yet.

  I landed on my chest with an impact that damn near took my breath away. Luckily I was well trained in this respect. I’d been tossed from the Funhouse and half the other Desecho saloons in such a manner dozens of times. I was going headfirst straight toward the cliff. If you’re going to go, go in style. Lilly was directly in front of me, maybe three feet from me. We were face-to-face. I stretched my arms out in front of me and got a good grasp on her hands.

  Okay. Step one: secure Lilly. Done. Now … what to do, what to do.

  Lasso? No, hadn’t packed one. Dammit.

  The rocky ground was tearing the bejeezus out of my chest. I clenched down harder on Lilly’s hand. I craned my neck up.

  The cliff edge was upon us.

  “Shiiiiit!” I yelled. Lilly let out a wail that could’ve woken the drunks back in town.

  I felt Lilly’s body fall off the cliff. Her weight tugged on my arm as she slipped over the edge.

  As my head got within inches of the edge, I noticed a large, pointy rock. It occurred to me—I could grab it. Perhaps my final words on this Earth wouldn’t be “Shit” after all. I’d slid by too fast to yank it with my hand, but I might just have a chance with my boot.

  My head went over the edge. A sudden vacuous nothing struck my ears. I could still hear Lilly’s screaming, that’s for sure, but it came through a hollow, weighty emptiness of the canyon. The moon was bright, but the canyon floor was still hidden way below in darkness.

  Every second was an eon. I had time to gather my wits enough to stick one of my feet out.

  My right foot connected harshly with the rock. The curve of the boot wrapped nicely around the contours of the rock, yanking me violently and threatening to tear my leg from my hip. But the important thing was, I wasn’t sliding over the edge any more.

  Now, I’d like to say that we came to an abrupt halt and that was that. In a perfect world, that’s what would happen. But this wasn’t a perfect world.

  Lilly dangled from my outstretched arm. Her wailing persisted. My foot ground into the rock, holding the two of us. Our combined weight swung erratically. A big, human, out of control pendulum, we were. The impact with the rock had twisted me around onto my back. I had gotten a momentary view of the stars before my backside slammed into the canyon wall. The very edge of the cliff was under my, keeping he lower half of my legs on the solid ground. The rest of me, and all of Lilly, were in Culver Canyon.

  I wouldn’t be able to hold her for very long, but I needed a moment to organize a plan. I moved the foot that was on the rock, ever so slightly, to test it. It felt solid. I had a good grip on it with the top of my boot.

  I racked my brain. Okay, the situation was this—Lilly was hanging on for dear life from my arm. Subsequently, I was hanging on for dear life with my foot. The canyon wall was sheer. Bob’s location? Indeterminate.

  I had one choice. I was going to have to haul Lilly up over me using whatever strength I could muster. Now, I’m a fairly lean guy. But lean and rock-hard are not necessarily synonymous. In this position, I was mostly going to need abdominal strength—and that was the least rock-hard area of my body.

  Time to share the plan with the gal. She continued to scream.

  “Lilly!” I said. “Lilly, listen to me.”

  Her screaming subsided.

  “I’m going to pull you up over me, okay?” I said.

  She replied something that sounded like “Okay” through her gagged mouth.

  I pulled with all I had, which wasn’t much. I hadn’t done calisthenics since the Army. Still it’s amazing what folks can do with a surge of adrenaline. I had her up to the point where we were face-to-face. I gave her a look that said, We’ll be all right. I shuffled her a little farther up such that our midsections were aligned. Her nether regions were pressed against my cheek. A happy coincidence. I wrapped one arm tightly around her waist, then retrieved my knife from my belt with the other hand.

  “Give me your hands,” I said.

  She put her hands down, and I cut her bindings.

  “Now climb up me.”

  She wrapped around the leg that was clinging to the rock and began to climb. There was even more pressure on my foot, and I realized how much it was starting to ache. I reached up to put my knife away, and there was a flutter of motion.

  Lilly fell.

  And to catch herself she grabbed the nearest available object. My manhood. As any man who’s had even the slightest of taps to the testicles will tell you, crotch pain is intense. And unique. Not only did I have the immediate searing sensation of being stabbed with a flaming dagger of Hell, but I also felt like vomiting. Crotch shots are a nice double-whammy of agony and nausea.

  Lilly was screaming. So was I. Our sopranos were in perfect harmony. Our bodies swung gently. I heard my knife clinking against the wall of the canyon, the sounds getting more and more faint as it descended into oblivion. It had been a good soldier. Twenty years or so of service. I’d have to drop a dollar back at the general store to get a new one. That irked me.

  It’s hard to think when you have a hundred pounds of woman dangling from your member. Somehow we had to get over the edge of that cliff. But how? We’d unsuccessfully tried to have Lilly climb up me. That hadn’t turned out well. Poor Lilly would be a bloodstain at the bottom of the canyon if I’d been any less of a man. I grinned slightly, even then.

  Jake perhaps? The slope was very steep. I doubt he would have chased after us. Clearly it would have been a death wish. Still, maybe if I yelled loud enough he’d hear us.

  “Jake!” I hollered. “Jake!”

  My screams echoed about the canyon. Lilly stopped wailing for a moment, listened. There was no reply. Just the silent vacuum of the canyon.

  He wasn’t coming. I didn’t need clairvoyance to realize that. Hell, I’d heard gunshots, and he’d been left up there with Mory. That asshole might have killed him.

  My foot was starting to really ache. Not only that, but my shin muscles were starting to burn from holding on. I wouldn’t last much longer.

  Then it struck me. Bob! Bob might still be in range. It was going to take some cajoling, but I could call him over to the edge. If I—

  I felt something new from the foot that was securing us, and it filled me with terror. A tingling feeling. My foot was falling asleep …

  “Bob! Bob!”

  Lilly tried yelling out through her gag. “Bub! Coom hee, Bub!”

  My foot tingled even more. It was starting to get that warm feeling, the one you get before it loses all sensitivity. This wasn’t good.

  “Bob!”

  Hoof
beats! Distant hoof beats.

  “Good boy, Bob! Come here!”

  The hoof beats drew nearer.

  The tingling in my foot was getting stronger. In fact, it was starting to tickle. The warm sensation, too, was amplified to the point where it was starting to burn. Then I realized that the foot wasn’t falling asleep. I had a different problem entirely.

  Fire ants.

  Now that I knew what I was dealing with, I could sense them. I could feel them crawling down my boot, starting way up on my shin and proceeding down my boot, a solid line of invaders making their way down to my ratty socks. Maybe if the socks hadn’t been so filled with holes this wouldn’t have been such an issue. It was a good argument for being less frugal.

  Bob’s hoof beats were getting closer yet. They had a slow pace to them, though. He was being cautious.

  “Bob, come on, dammit!”

  The ants were doing a number on my foot. It felt like the little bastards were burning it straight through to the bones.

  I clenched my teeth. A fresh wave of pain came from my crotch. Lilly’s little arms were starting to shake. She tightened her grip. My eyes moistened.

  “Bob …” I was pleading with him at this point.

  Presently a horse’s head appeared above. Bob peered down at me. His nostrils flared rapidly. He was shaking. A drop of drool fell on my face.

  “Bob!” I cried happily. “Good boy!”

  Lilly chuckled with pure delight.

  “Bob, sit.”

  Bob didn’t budge. He was stiff as a board. Dust from his quavering hooves fell over the edge and landed in my eyes.

  The flames in my boot surged. The ants must have called in reinforcements.

  I grimaced again. “It’s okay, Bob. Sit!”

  Bob whinnied. He slowly began to bend down on his front knee.

  Lilly slipped and grabbed on tighter. The ants’ onslaught now came in waves, undulations of fiery pain.

  “Hurry, hurry, hurry!!” I said.

  Bob lowered himself. He sat down right next to the edge. Just the way he’d been trained.

  We’d been working on that one.