by Clark Casey
“Musta done something wrong. Or else he’d be in heaven, wouldn’t he?”
“I suppose I caused some misfortune,” Lucky admitted. “Had a partner once. He got shot up by some cowboys after I cleared them out in cards. Also, I prolly took some wages that woulda fed hungry children.”
“Wagerin’ ain’t no sin,” Mabel said, “unless you forced them to bet, and I reckon you didn’t need to do that, honey.”
“No ma’am, I just let them believe they could win.”
“That don’t make no damn sense!” Buddy argued. “You couldn’t a known they was gonna lose.”
“No sir, I knowed it,” Lucky said plainly. “I always win. Soon as some cowboy sits down in front of me with a stack, I can be sure he’s gonna lose it to me. Just like he sees a skinny pipsqueak like me and knows he can whoop ’im in a fight. He may play his cards all right at first, but he’ll slip up. When you hate a loudmouthed bully as much as I do, his tells are as easy to spot as the stars on a clear night. So I take his money, and sooner or later he’s gonna wanna give me a beating for it.”
Buddy folded two more hands before he got some cards he really couldn’t resist. He kept them close to his chest so I couldn’t see what he had. He only exchanged one card, then went all in. Lucky didn’t draw any cards at all. He just called. Buddy grinned laying down a straight to the ten. Then Lucky flopped down a straight to the queen.
“What are the odds of that?” I said to Sal.
“Must be near a thousand to one,” Sal replied.
Buddy did what any reasonable man would do in such a situation. He pulled out his gun.
“You cheatin’ bastard!” he hollered and pressed the barrel against the boy’s lip.
Lucky sat looking at him with his wide cow eyes, like he’d been expecting it all along and there wasn’t nothing he could do to stop it. He didn’t beg for mercy.
“Hold it there, Buddy,” Mabel interrupted. “I thought you said everyone had to follow the rules. How’s it gonna look if you break the rules over a five-dollar pot? As far as I can tell, this young man didn’t do anything but have a better hand than you.”
“I ain’t sure how he done it, but he musta cheated. How’s he beat three jacks with three queens, then two pair with a flush, and then a straight with a higher straight? He didn’t even draw no cards! You tellin’ me he was dealt a straight to the queen!?”
“You can’t shoot a man for what you think he might’ve done, just what you know he’s done.” Mabel didn’t raise her voice. She spoke with an even keel and a sweet smile. The bosom beneath her chin didn’t hurt her case none either. “Remember rule number five? It says ‘no killing over dumb shit.’ You wrote it yourself. Besides, the vampire says we’re gonna need every last man we have if those werewolves come back.” She batted her eyes and placed her hand on Buddy’s wrist. “You already got rid of the second best gunfighter in town.”
“Damn it all!” Buddy moaned. He couldn’t stop himself though. He twirled his pistol around his fingertip till the chamber was in the palm of his hand, then knocked the kid across the jaw with the handle. Lucky took the blow wordlessly. Tears welled up in his eyes and one or two slid down his cheek. He wiped them without saying nothing, then pulled Buddy’s chips in with his own. There were still three other players at the table, and he said, “Deal.”
“Wonder what her angle is,” Sal said.
“What ya mean?” I asked.
“Why’s she siding with Lucky? Figured she’d be more concerned with shoring things up with Buddy than arguing on behalf of that runt.”
“Hmm, not sure,” I said.
Chapter 23
Spiffy’s Whereabouts Confirmed
“Last call!” Sal hollered. “You don’t have to go home—because there ain’t no way back—but you can’t stay here.”
The handful of men who weren’t entirely ruined pushed their glasses forward for a final triumphant round. With nothing to wake up for the next morning, there was little reason to pace yourself, so not many made it to closing time. Quite a few men passed out and soiled themselves by midday. A lot of the rest were airing the paunch by suppertime. Wasn’t uncommon for a fella to say he was just taking it easy for the night then wind up shot because he drank too much and picked a quarrel.
As I swallowed the last suds of beer in my mug, a hoarse moan came from the doorway. Spiffy was lying on the floor, propped up on his elbows in a trail of blood marking where he had crawled to the saloon. His arms were crossed and his wrists tucked under his armpits to try to slow the bleeding. Both hands had been chewed to nubs. His church clothes were tattered and soaked with blood from collar to cuff. His feet were gone, too. We lifted him up on a table and tied off his wrists and ankles with rags. He was nearly bled out but could still talk some.
“Wolves done it,” he said. “Wanted to know what happened to them others. Chewed on my fingers till I told ’em.”
“What’d you say?” Sal asked worriedly.
“That Buddy and the vampire sent ’em to hell. They kept chewing though, so I told ’em the wolves were after Ms. Parker’s baby ’cause it was alive and had warm blood in it. They didn’t believe me, so they kept chewing. Chewed off my whole hand… then another.”
Sal poured some whiskey down Spiffy’s throat to dull the pain. He wasn’t going to make it. No use in trying to cauterize the wounds and stop the bleeding. He’d already lost too much blood, and there wasn’t any way to get more back inside him. Only thing to do was keep him comfortable and hear what he had to say.
“I was tied to a wall for days,” he said. “They just kept nibblin’ on me. Wouldn’t take my word for it. Then they chewed off my feet. I howled like a banshee. Finally, they let me go.”
“So they coming after us?” Sal asked.
“They was licking their lips over the prospect of a live baby.”
“When they aimin’ to come?”
“Tomorrow evening, after the whole pack rises… They’re gonna have a hunt.”
Spiffy nodded out. Wasn’t much use letting him suffer, but nobody wanted to waste a bullet since we’d need all we had. Nigel agreed to quicken his end. “Anyone care to say some final words about the chap?” he asked.
Nobody seemed inclined. Then Sal finally stepped forward. “Spiffy,” he said, “sure was a hell of a dresser.” He stepped back and gave the nod. Nigel bit into his throat. Spiffy’s eyes bulged like a branded steer’s. He didn’t cry out though. Just grit his teeth, then slipped away. Nigel spit out a mouthful of cold blood, careful not to swallow any, then rinsed his mouth with gin.
“Least he didn’t go like no goddamn Fre,” Red said.
“What ya mean? He told ’em everything!” Sal said. “Sure as shit, he was hollering like a Fre when they chewed his feet off. We’re all done for now!”
“What ya expect him to do?” Whiny Pete said. “They woulda just kept chewing on him till he told them what they wanted to hear. What’s a man supposed to do in that situation?” he whimpered. “I know I wouldn’t last long if my hands were being ate.” Pete was nearly brought to tears thinking on his own straits.
“Well, we’ll see who’s a Fre tomorrow when the werewolves chew y’all up.” Sal poured a round and we drank over Spiffy’s body. It wasn’t much of a wake, but it was all we could do.
“Can’t help but feel a little envious of him,” Red said. “Least he’s gotten it over with—gettin’ chewed up and all.”
“Sad to think,” Sal added, “there might not be anyone left to drink over us tomorrow night.”
“True,” I said, “but it’s nice to be the one doing the drinking tonight.” We all knocked glasses.
“You better rest up,” Nigel said and downed the last sip of his gin. “They only let this man go so he could alert us. Werewolves prefer to hunt scared prey. It’s in their nature. I imagine they will stretch out the hunt for
their own enjoyment.”
Buddy and Whiny Pete left with Nigel. Red and I sat for a spell as Sal wiped down the bar.
“I don’t reckon there’ll be any whiskey served in hell,” I said.
“At least it couldn’t smell any worse than here. That’s for sure!” Red said.
“Ah, that’s just Spiffy,” Sal said. “He’s starting to turn.”
“Shit, you can call him stinky now.”
“What ya reckon the odds are of us getting through this in one piece?” I asked.
“With a half-starved vampire? Not good,” Sal said. “With a fed vampire, it’d be a different story.”
“Then we gotta get that vampire fed, goddamn it!” Red said.
“There’s only one place in Damnation where you can get warm blood,” Sal said.
“You mean Ms. Parker’s baby?” I said. “Buddy’d never let it happen.”
“Could be us or it,” Sal said.
“That baby’s gonna get ate anyway. What ya think they’re gonna do after they finish eatin’ us?”
“Maybe we could get a drop or two of the kid’s blood,” Sal said. “Not enough to harm it. Just enough to give Nigel the strength to fend off the wolves. We just gotta figure out how to get it out of her.”
“She’s nearly due, ain’t she?” Red asked. “Maybe we could force the birth somehow.”
“Buddy ain’t gonna like that idea either,” I said.
“We got ourselves a real delicate hair-in-the-butter situation here,” Sal said. “But if it was suggested properly, real subtle and all, maybe Ms. Parker and Buddy’d both go along with it.”
“I’ll suggest it,” Red said.
“Buddy ain’t no fan a yours,” I pointed out. “You already tried to shoot him once, and he don’t like your schemin’ ways none either,” I told Sal.
“How about you, Tom? He trusts you.”
“That’s why I can’t bring it up,” I said. “But if I second it, that might hold some sway.”
“That settles it,” Red said. “I’ll suggest it, but real subtle-like, and you second it.”
Red rifled through Spiffy’s pockets till he found some money.
“What the hell you doing?” Sal hollered. “Ain’t you got no respect?”
“He still owes me five bucks!”
Chapter 24
The Wolves
Word started getting around at breakfast. Some of the fellas went straight to the rooming house to hide out. Others wanted to wait until after lunch, not knowing how long they might have to hold up. Most decided they were better off making a stand together in the saloon where the vampire was.
“Gonna be a long one,” Sal remarked.
“Could be the last one,” Red added. “Might as well be long.”
Just before suppertime, a series of long eerie howls summoned the wolves to gather in front of the Foggy Dew. There were just a few at first, then the rest joined in like a chorus of hungry carolers. Sal quickly slid the storm door over the flimsy swinging café doors. The miners looked scared as schoolchildren. Most of them had died of black lung but had done their share of mistreating women and children. In the rooming house, they were known to be fitful sleepers, always worrying there would be some reckoning for their earthly misdeeds. Seeing all the wolves, they quickly regretted their decision to stay put.
“We’re surrounded!” one declared. “I say we tear up the floorboards and tunnel our way out.”
Sal grew oddly possessive of his floor. “You ain’t doing nothin’ of the sort! You’re just gonna have to fight, and that’s all there is to it.”
“Ain’t gonna need the floor if we all get ate up,” another one argued.
While they were bickering, a sodbuster tried sneaking out the back window and got dragged around to the front of the saloon. His yelling drew all eyes to the window. Four wolves clamped down on his limbs and all pulled at once, ripping him to pieces. The largest wolf ended up with the head and torso still attached to a leg. The dead man looked around at the pieces of himself strewn across the road. He screamed and shook like he wanted to collect them, but had no hands to hold anything with. Two wolves fought over an arm with the fingers still twitching.
“Push that piano up against the door!” Sal ordered. “And break up those tables to cover the windows!”
“I say we open fire before they come in and get us,” a soldier suggested. “Gotta stay on the offense.”
“Why should we be taking strategy advice from you?” Red argued. “You got scalped by a measly Indian, and he’d didn’t even have a gun!”
“Don’t go underestimating Indians,” he said in earnest. “I’d rather face a werewolf than an Indian with a purpose any day of the week. You get one Indian with a cause, and pretty soon there’ll be a hundred by his side.”
“Do we have to listen to this hogwash?”
“But we got Buddy,” Whiny Pete said. “If they come in here, he can shoot a mess of ’em. Tom and Sal can take out a couple, and the vampire’ll take care of the rest.”
“I am too weak to face the entire pack,” Nigel said.
“Don’t go counting on Tom neither,” Red said. “He’s got his pacifist sights set on heaven. He’s still trying to make it a year without shooting no one.”
“That include not shooting wolves or just people?” Lucky asked.
“Suppose it’d include all God’s creatures,” I said.
As the howling went on, more folks started coming undone. They hadn’t realized the vampire was so worn out. Then the wolves started pulling men out of the rooming house, mangling their legs and leaving them to bleed out in the road.
“They’re gonna get us for sure!” Whiny Pete cried out, “Just like they’d done to Santa Anna at the Alamo.”
Nigel just chuckled and lifted his glass. “Those who are doomed to repeat the past sometimes read about it beforehand.”
“If you had some warm blood, you could take on the pack, couldn’t ya?” Red asked him.
“Where we gonna get warm blood in Damnation?” Lucky asked. “I thought everyone’s blood is cold as ice.”
“You can heat mine up,” a farmer volunteered.
“Only blood pumped from a living heart will do,” Nigel said. “You are just a sack of brackish water to me. It would be no better than you trying to quench your thirst with sea water.”
Red saw his opportunity. “Don’t Ms. Parker got fresh blood in that child growing in her belly?” he said a little too eagerly. “I say we cut it out now and give it to the vampire to protect us!”
“Real subtle, you shit heel,” Sal muttered.
“Ain’t nobody doing nothing of the sort,” Buddy hollered.
“Now hold on a minute,” Sal said. “Nobody’s gonna harm Ms. Parker. But say she was to deliver naturally. There’d be some of that afterbirth leftover, right? That’s gotta have warm blood.”
“When you due, ma’am?” I asked.
“Not for another few weeks, at least,” she replied.
“We could all be torn to pieces by then!” Whiny Pete wept.
The cowboys took a practical view of the matter. Most of them had delivered valuable calves at the risk of their less valuable mothers’ lives. They didn’t have no qualms about tearing the baby out of Ms. Parker if it would improve their odds. The crowd grew unruly. Some wanted to toss her to the wolves and be done with it, but they’d have to go through Buddy and Nigel first.
A farmer spoke up. “My wife had all of our children early. She didn’t take no bed rest neither. Kept working right up to the day she delivered.”
“That gives me an idea,” Sal said. “Maybe if Ms. Parker keeps active, she’ll deliver early. Worryin’ ‘bout them wolves might help trigger it, too. Buddy, you get her up and walk her around the room. Let her get a peek out the window while you’re at it.”
“It might not be good for the baby!” Buddy protested.
“Well, it might not be good for the baby if it ends up as supper,” Red said.
“No, he’s right,” Ms. Parker said. “I’d rather the baby come early than we all get eaten.”
“Now, you boys get some Winchesters up in those windows and fire if a mutt gets within ten yards the building. We’ll hold them off as long as we can.”
The windows on the second floor were boarded up with slots to fit a rifle barrel. The men took turns sitting in the rafters, keeping the wolves in check with the occasional warning shot.
“They might enjoy a hunt, but they ain’t too keen on getting lead poisoning for it,” a cowboy called out merrily as he blasted the ground before their skittish paws.
Buddy had Ms. Parker up half the night doing laps around the saloon carrying a sack of grain. Everyone else camped out on the floor. Hardly an hour passed without some howling. A burly logger wept in the corner, blubbering about how he didn’t want to end up dog food.
Just after dawn, Ms. Parker’s water finally broke. The baby wasn’t ready to come out though, and the wolves were getting more restless. There was a sudden crash and glass shattered across the floor. Then a wolf came sailing through the small window above the front door that we’d neglected to board up. Nigel kicked it square in the teeth, then tossed it out the way it came.
“Board that up now!” Sal ordered. “Where the hell’s Buddy?”
Lucky went upstairs to look for him. A minute later, he called down from the catwalk, “He’s gone!”
“What?”
“Took French leave!”
“Buddy wouldn’t a skinned out,” I said. “He got more guts than you can hang on a fence.”
“Well, he ain’t here. I searched everywhere. Whiny Pete’s gone, too.”
“I’d have expected it from the kid, but not Buddy. Shit, that’s a good share of our firepower!”
“Buddy wouldn’t desert us,” Ms. Parker said. “He just wouldn’t!” She was panting like a horse run ragged. The baby pains were coming on more regularly now. The wolves were also getting more daring. The lookouts in the windows had to fire warning shots every few minutes to keep them at bay.