Gary Wayne did not wake his ass up.
Boris scavenged enough material to light a small fire over which he heated some tinned beans from the saddlebags for his supper. He washed them down with a sip of water from his canteen, freshly filled from the well at Fort Joye.
“Get him to Bretton,” Lancaster said as Boris tightened the straps securing Gary Wayne to Gringo. “Our camp surgeon is adequate, but he really needs Doc Todd.”
Boris said nothing, only grunted noncommittally and looped a hemp rope loosely around Gringo’s neck and used a half-hitch tie the other end about five inches from the top of Valliant’s tail.
“Don’t let him come back here, Boris. I cannae guarantee he’ll fare so well as this next time.”
“You ever try to tell him to do something he doesn’t want to?” Boris spoke to the hemp straps. “Or not to do something he does want?”
“Aye,” Lancaster nodded. “’Tis a fearsome undertaking, I well know, and likely a fool’s errand. But try to nonetheless. I do not wish to kill the lad, but I will if pressed.”
“Well,” Boris finally looked Lancaster in the eye, “you’ve at least guaranteed he can’t come for you for at least another month or two. Perhaps an Indian medicine man can raise his brother before then, but it does not seem likely.”
With that, Boris mounted Valliant and gave Gringo’s lead rope a gentle tug and rode through the fort’s gates, which were then secured after he passed.
Boris finished his beans and used the coarse desert sand to scrub the inside of the tin clean of any residue that might tempt the local fauna to invade their camp. He then coaxed the horses to lay down and wrapped himself in his own blanket before stretching out between Gary Wayne and Valliant.
“You’re a damned fool, Gary Wayne,” he muttered again as he settled in to sleep.
II.
Gary Wayne found himself back at Bert Selleck’s house vaguely aware of a faint pain in his everywhere. He was sitting on the ground with his back against the well. The sun had given way to the moon, and the three women had disappeared.
As he reclined on the ground, facing Selleck’s house, someone inside lit several lamps and cast a beam of light into the side yard that stretched almost to the toes of his boots. Gary Wayne tried to stand but found his legs numb. He winced as he felt the pins and needles of his circulation returning and decided to give it a bit before he tried to move again.
Movement in the window drew his attention, and he looked up to see Lancaster with his back to the window, talking to someone outside Gary Wayne’s view. Gary Wayne could not make out the words, only cadence of speech. Lancaster chuckled and smiled and said something else. He nodded and stepped to the side of Gary Wayne’s view as a young woman entered the room, closing the door behind her. She had long red hair bunned in the back and held in a net over a simple farm dress. She looked to be in her late twenties or early thirties.
Selleck’s wife? Gary Wayne wondered. He continued to watch from his place in the yard.
The woman placed two fingers on her lips with a smile and moved toward Lancaster. She was a good two or three inches shorter than Gary Wayne’s companion. Lancaster grabbed both her shoulders and smiled down at her.
That is an awfully familiar gesture to share with someone you have only just met, Gary Wayne felt uncomfortable watching this, but his legs were still numb. Much less someone else’s wife.
Lancaster, as if he could hear Gary Wayne’s misgivings smiled down at the woman, shook his head, and gently pushed her back. The woman would have none of this and moved again to Lancaster, grabbing the back of his neck and pulling him to her face.
Gary Wayne expected his mentor to push himself away again and was dismayed when instead Lancaster pulled the woman closer into an embrace. He turned her around, still kissing her, and used his weight to force them both down out of the window’s frame.
I don’t know what has gotten into Lank, Gary Wayne thought, but I need to put a stop to this before our host discovers them.
He rose unsteadily, pushing himself up with his right hand. As he did so, a sharp pain shot through his hand down his spine and into his left leg. He let out a scream, and was instantly afraid he had drawn the lovers’ attention, but his yelp appeared to have no effect. It was as if he had remained silent. His legs and arms were sore, especially his hand and his head had a faint throbbing, but the pain seemed distant, muted as if he were feeling the phantom pain of a twin’s discomfort.
He moved back the front yard. By the time he had climbed the stairs and reached the front porch, the pain had disappeared completely. He moved to knock on the door.
“I had begun to think, Selleck’s voice from the shadows startled Gary Wayne, and he let out a surprised gasp. Selleck chuckled and continued. “I had begun to think you had fallen in the well or locked yourself in the stable.”
Gary Wayne decided against telling his host about the three women at the well. For all he knew, they had been a vision while he had been out cold, and he did not want his host to think him touched. “I reckon I was more tired than I knew,” he said instead. “I got the horses settled in and plumb passed out myself right smack in the barn.”
“Did you indeed?” Selleck stared at Gary Wayne with what Gary Wayne thought momentarily was a knowing gleam, then he looked back over his yard.
“I did.” Gary Wayne insisted. “In fact, I’d likely slept there all night if Lank’s Concord hadn’t near stomped my head.”
Selleck looked back. “Did he? Do you require attention? My wife Prudence is a trained nurse. She has a sure and tender hand. She worked with Dix during the War.”
Gary Wayne was glad of the dark, as he could feel his cheeks reddening. “No, sir.” He stammered. “I will be fine.”
“Are you sure? She’s helping your friend get settled in now, but she’d be happy to look after you when she returns. In fact, I expect she’ll insist upon it.”
“I will be fine.”
“Well, suit yourself, then.” He reached inside his jacket and pulled two cigars, proffering one to Gary Wayne.
Gary Wayne accepted one with a nod and pulled his Barlow knife from his own pocket and cut the end off. “Much obliged.”
Selleck struck a match on his boot heel, lit his cigar and held the flame for Gary Wayne.
The two men stood side by side drawing on their cigars and staring out at High Desert’s yard and alfalfa fields.
The moon rose higher, with nary a sign of either Lancaster or Prudence, but Selleck seemed unconcerned. Gary Wayne grew more nervous as the evening grew into night, but he dared not draw attention to his friend and his hostess’ absence.
“Tell me, Gary Wayne,” Selleck said finally, still staring straight ahead. “Are you a good man?”
Gary Wayne considered this as he drew again on his cigar. He did not know how to answer the question since he was unsure of Selleck’s play.
“I try to be,” He replied carefully. “I am as good a man as it is in my lights to be.”
“A good answer,” Selleck replied and patted Gary’s left shoulder as the door behind them opened, and Lancaster emerged followed closely by the woman Gary Wayne had spotted in the window. “Well, now!” Selleck grinned at his guest and his wife, giving her a wink. “I thought maybe you had decided to run off with this young Lochinvar.”
Prudence moved to her husband gave him a peck on his cheek. “Never, my love,” she said and laid her head on his shoulder. “Your Mr. O’Loch was filthy from his travels, so I helped him with his bath. I have not seen so much dust since Gettysburg.”
“Well, Lassie,” Lancaster chuckled, “you may well have washed a wee bit o’ Pennsylvania off me at that.”
I bet, Gary Wayne thought shifting his gaze from one person to the next and relieved to see that their host seemed oblivious. I’ve never seen you go more than a day without a bath, and you had one this morning in the stream.
III.
“What’s eating ye, Gary Wayne?” Lancaster loo
ked back at his young protege as they rode through the desert once more. It was midmorning now, and the two of them had left Selleck’s ranch just after sun-up. In that time, Gary Wayne had trailed behind his mentor saying nothing unless asked directly and then responding in monosyllabic grunts for the most part.
“I do not know what you mean, Lancaster,” Gary Wayne spoke formally, enunciating every word. “I assure you nothing is ‘eating’ me.”
Lancaster laughed, reining Concord and turning him around to face Gary Wayne head on. “Now I know something’s wrong. Ye’ve nae spoken that formally since Ardiss swore you in. Go on, laddie, out with it, or I’ll nae go another step.”
Gary Wayne stared at Lank a minute, still saying nothing until he finally just blurted out. “Well, Lank, to tell the Lord’s own truth, I’ a little disappointed in you. Taking advantage of that woman last night practically right under the nose of her husband.”
“And do ye know I took advantage of her?”
“I seen it, Lancaster. I seen it with my own eyes. She come up and kissed you like there weren’t nothing amiss. And you let her. And her husband not fifty yards from you.”
“I see, so it would have been okay had her husband not been under the same roof?”
“No, sir, but it sure would’ve been less disgraceful for you not to dishonor your host.”
“I see,” Concord snorted impatiently and shifted his weight. Lancaster rubbed the side of his head and murmured soothingly. “You show a great deal of concern for the honor of a man you were so recently convinced was not as he appeared.”
“Just because I don’t trust a man does not give me a right to his woman.”
“Interesting.” Lancaster gave Garry Wayne an approving nod. “However, a woman who will betray her husband with a stranger is curious, do ye not think?”
“I think you’re splitting hairs,” Gary Wayne glared at his partner, “and I think you know it, too.”
“Not at all.” Lancaster returned, “I learned a good deal from the experience.”
“What did you learn besides that the wife is ill-named.”
“I learned that you were right to distrust Selleck. He is not what he seems.” Lancaster turned Concord about again and began to move on. “We may as well return to Bretton. There is nothing more to find out here.”
“What about Greene?” Gary Wayne spurred Gringo to catch Lancaster up. “We still don’t know where he went.”
“Visit Selleck in a year,” Lancaster said cryptically. “He’ll lead you to Greene.”
IV.
Boris awoke with a start. He had been dreaming of a story Gary Wayne once told about riding with Lancaster as a tenderfoot when he swore he heard Gary Wayne moaning beside him in the night.
“Garwayne,” he mumbled, “you up?”
“Lead you to Greene,” Gary Wayne said, then fell silent again save for his light steady breathing.
Well, Boris thought, sitting up and patting his vest, his breathing is stronger at least. Removing his watch from a vest pocket, Boris tilted the face trying to catch enough moonlight on this cloudy night to read the time: 4:43
Boris sighed and fell back to the ground, closing his eyes. He lay there for another ten minutes, but sleep would not come. With a groan he climbed to his feet, wrapping his arms around himself for warmth, and began gathering more kindling before leaning over the still warm coals of last night’s fire and blowing on them. After a while, a small flame appeared, and Boris carefully built a tepee of kindling over it using his body to break the wind until the kindling caught and gained strength. When the fire was burning unassisted, he gradually stacked larger pieces of wood, and before he knew it, the fire was roaring cozily in the darkness.
He gingerly slid a flattish rock into the flames with the toe of his boot then moved back to his saddlebags. Boris rummaged until he found his canteen, a tin pot, a tin cup, and the last of his chicory. He dropped several pinches of chicory (his coffee had been gone for days) into the pot then filled it with water from the canteen. Using a fairly thick branch, Boris pulled the rock far enough out of the flames to set the tin pot on it. After a few minutes, he heard the water percolating and poured some of the almost-but-not-quite-coffee into the tin cup and sat staring blankly into the flames as he sipped.
“You are a damned fool, Gary Wayne,” he said again. “As I’ve told you many a time before.”
V.
“You are a damned fool, Gary Wayne.” Boris looked at his partner in disbelief. “Ain’t no way you’re going to kill Lancaster. No way in hell.”
“I will kill him,” Gary Wayne said rubbing coarse sand into his plate instead of water, “or I will die trying.”
“Well, I know where I’d lay my money if I were a betting man,” Boris mumbled gathering his own dishes and washing them with sand.
“Nobody is saying you have to accompany me.” Gary Wayne packed his dishes into his saddle bags and leaned over to grab his holster. “I told you not to follow me in the first place.” He strapped his iron on his hip and made to mount Gringo.
“No,” Boris sighed as he stowed his own dishes and mounted Valliant, “I reckon somebody’s going to be needed to identify and claim the remains.”
“Well, if you’re coming, come on. I want to get this show on the road before noon.” Gary Wayne turned Gringo back down the path towards Fort Joye, “But keep your jaw closed if you have nothing constructive to add.”
The front gates had been opened and the blue-clad morning sentry was just finishing his first circuit when Gary Wayne and Boris rode up to the fort.
“You there, boy,” Gary Wayne reined Gringo to a halt and rested his arms on the pommel of his saddle as he leaned in to speak to the sentry. “Get me Lancaster O’Loch. I have business with him.”
The sentry, a boy of no more than eighteen summers, looked at Gary Wayne neutrally. “I do not recognize that name, sir.” He said evenly. “The commander of this fort is General Benjamin Wicke.”
“That is very interesting, kid,” Gary Wayne’s voice sounded more a mix of boredom and irritation than interest. “However, my business is with Lancaster O’Loch, not General Wicke. Now you may be unfamiliar with his name, son, but I know for a fact he is within these walls, and I aim to have words with him.”
Then Gary Wayne turned his head to face the fort gates. “Lancaster O’Loch?” he yelled. “I know you’re in there, you wife-stealing, child-murdering rat bastard! Come out here and face me like the man you pretend to be!”
“Sir,” the sentry said, “I am going to have to ask you to move along.”
“I shall not move along,” Gary Wayne turned his attention again to the sentry, “until I have received satisfaction from my quarry. So you may either run and fetch him, or I will set here until hell freezes yelling out to him.”
By this time a crowd had begun to gather on the parapets and just inside the gate. This made the sentry nervous as it was a sure indication that soon the General would hear of it and such a commotion could not reflect well on his abilities as a gate guard.
Boris noticed the sentry’s unease and the way he had begun fidgeting his rifle on his shoulder as if he were debating whether to bring it to bear. He walked Valliant to within speaking distance of the sentry as Gary Wayne took up his yelling again. The boy looked nervously his way unsure whether he was approaching for mischief or not. “Let me talk to him, son,” Boris raised both hands slightly to show he was unarmed. “Sometimes I can calm him.”
But Gary Wayne was not to be deterred. “Step back Boris,” he said over his shoulder not moving his head from scanning the crowd. “I have done come too far to turn back now. I aim to be satisfied, and no blue-bellied Yankee is going to drive me off.”
This proved too much for the young sentry. He lowered his rifle to his shoulder and pointed it at Gary Wayne. “That is just about enough, sir. I will have you know I am Southern born and bred from Baton Rouge.”
Gary Wayne glared. “Well, I damn sure won’t take o
rders from a Galvanized Yankee.” He turned back to the gates. “Lancaster!” he yelled, “I have all the time in the world, and I aim to spend it waiting on you if I must!”
The sentry fired his rifle over Gary Wayne’s head, and in a flash Gary Wayne had drawn his Lemat and levelled it within an inch of the sentry’s nose.
“Goddammit,” Boris muttered and drew his Sharps rifle and whipped it up under Gary Wayne’s hand, knocking the gun loose, then he swung the barrel towards the sentry’s own rifle. He could not knock it completely out of the sentry’s grip, but he managed to slew it off the steadying barrel hand.
Before Boris could get a decent grip on his rifle to fire, the sentry had regained his own weapon and now leveled it at him while Gary Wayne looked surprised and hurt at Boris’ intercession. The sentry cocked his rifle.
“That will be enough, corporal,” A grizzled, heavyset man wearing an officer’s uniform strode from the gate followed by Lancaster. The sentry returned his rifle to his shoulder with his left hand and saluted with his right.
“General Wicke,” he reported, “these two gentlemen arrived a few minutes ago and have refused to stand down despite my repeated orders.”
“I am aware of that,” Wicke said as he approached Gary Wayne. “I could hear the commotion all the way from the officer’s mess.” He turned to face Gary Wayne. “You are not shy, sir.”
Gary Wayne said nothing. His eyes never left Lancaster.
“No,” Boris agreed, “no one would mistake him for that.”
“I understand,” Wicke looked at Gary Wayne, “that you have business to attend to with my nephew, Mr. O’Loch?”
“If you call killing a philandering murderer ‘business,’” Gary Wayne’s eyes still remained fixed on Lancaster, who said nothing but met his gaze evenly, “then I reckon I do.”
“Well, here he is,” Wicke waved a hand absently at Lancaster. “Conduct your errand and be done with it, but for God in heaven’s sake be quick and quiet about it.” With that, the general turned to the sentry. “Watch them, Corporal Blumenthal, then report back to me when it’s over.” He nodded to the three men outside the gates. “I will leave you gentlemen to your business.” Then he returned through the gates.
Guns of the Waste Land: Departure: Volumes 1-2 Page 19