by Tony Masero
‘What, the Doc fall foul of some bad weather again?’ The wrangler asked with a gap-toothed grin.
‘More like bad liquor. You care to help me here? We got men hurt bad inside.’
‘Won’t do much good,’ said the fellow, strolling over. ‘That one’s about as much use as a toothpick in a tornado right now.’
‘Let’s get him up,’ said Diehard, spotting the water trough next to the corral. ‘I reckon a soaking will bring him around.’
The wrangler chuckled, ‘Damn right. I sure like that idea, see what he done to my teeth. The bastard was so drunk he couldn’t see straight and pulled the wrong ones out, left me with a hole where my front pegs should be.’
Together they heaved at the dead weight of the drunk and dragged him over to the water trough with his toes dragging in the dust.
‘There you go,’ said the wrangler gleefully as they half-dumped the body head first into the water. There were a few moments of silence and a slow pillar of bubbles rose from the sunken man before he rose up with a splash and gasped for air.
‘Like Jonah and the whale,’ observed the smiling wrangler.
‘Wha…. Wha….’ blubbered the blinking doctor.
‘You ass,’ growled Diehard, shoving the white head under again.
The wrangler leaned back casually against the corral poles and watched with interest, ‘Reckon that’s more water than he’s drunk in a coon’s age. Usually the only liquid gets down that throat is a hundred proof and comes in a bottle.’
‘Damn fool,’ said Diehard, pulling the man’s head out of the water by his hair. ‘Come on you, you’ve got hurt people to attend.’
‘Where?’ blubbered the doctor vaguely, sliding down to sit on the ground beside the trough.
‘In that pest hole you call a hospital,’ said Diehard in disgust. ‘Now get up and do your work.’
‘I feel unwell,’ complained the doctor blearily. ‘I’m sick. Need to rest.’
Diehard let go to anger and booted the man hard in the ribs, ‘You don’t get in there right quick I’ll beat your dumb hide ‘til you need a doctor yourself.’
‘Yeah,’ added the wrangler. ‘And I reckon the nearest one of them must be two hundred miles back.’
‘Savages,’ grumbled the drunk, trying to lift himself to his feet. ‘Insufferable ignoramuses.’
Both men helped the soaked doctor up and with a boot in the seat of his pants Diehard shoved him over towards the tent. ‘Get in there and do your job,’ he snarled.
‘No sense of decorum,’ breezed the doctor in a plummy, educated accent. Tossing the words over his shoulder as he wove his way unsteadily on swaying legs. ‘No understanding the gentler needs of a skilled man. I, gentlemen, am an angel of mercy I’ll have you know.’
‘You do it right or I’ll nail you to the wall of that tent, you damned whiskey head,’ Diehard called after him.
‘He only gets away with it as he’s the one man they could find fool enough to come out here and do his merciful work in the middle of nowhere,’ confided the wrangler.
Diehard turned to the man and held out his hand, ‘Charlie Wexford, friends call me Diehard.’
‘Howdy, Diehard. Jonas Fairweather, some call me Nosey, I guess you can tell why.’
‘Obliged for your help, Nosey.’
‘Aw, that’s been a real pleasure. It was worth losing the teeth for.’
‘Say, you ain’t seen a pair of fellows with a fine bay mare, a dapple and a white passing through, have you?’
Nosey raised a rueful eyebrow, ‘You know them two?’ he asked cautiously.
‘They ain’t no friends of mine,’ Diehard added quickly. ‘They done stole that string from me.’
‘That figures, they’re a mean pair alright. Sure, they was here a few days back now.’
‘They rode on?’
‘Not before they….’
‘Say!’ Interrupted a loud voice behind them. ‘You the man with that buckboard?’
Diehard turned to see a pompous looking fellow with bushy sideburns approaching. A tall and pot-bellied man with an extravagantly large stovepipe hat on his head, a fancy silk neckerchief with a diamond stickpin and a tailcoat that reached below his knees and almost to the shining patent leather boots he wore.
Two others, dressed equally as smartly, accompanied him and both carried paper filled folders and rolled maps under their arms. Diehard recognized them as the surveying group he had seen earlier when he came from the tunnel.
‘I am,’ Diehard allowed.
‘Well, I have need of such a wagon right now. How much do you want for it?’
‘T’ain’t for sale, she ain’t mine to sell, I just borrowed her.’
‘No matter, I have dire need of such a vehicle at the moment. Name your price.’
One of the other men stepped forward, bowing slightly at the waist in an obsequious fashion, ‘Mister Beauregard, is the owner of the railroad,’ he muttered by way of introduction.
‘That’s right,’ said the bombastic railroad owner. ‘I don’t have time to dicker and I’ll meet your price if it’s fair enough.’
‘I already said, it ain’t mine to sell.’
‘Come along, fellow, don’t be difficult. I just bought myself a damned excellent piece of fine horseflesh and I need a wagon to transport its foodstuffs and accouterments, I don’t want the animal mixing with the common herd.’
That raised Diehard’s eyebrows, ‘You bought a fine horse?’
‘I was just getting around to telling you,’ said Nosey. ‘Mister Beauregard here purchased that fine white mare.’
‘You mean my fine white mare.’
Beauregard frowned deeply, ‘What? What’re you saying, you blackguard? I paid good money for that thoroughbred, she’s mine I’ll have you know.’
‘Appears those two fellows was horse thieves, Mister Beauregard. They stole a string from Diehard Charlie here,’ explained Nosey.
Beauregard paused and rumbled noisily, ‘Is this so? You have proof of that?’
‘No, I ain’t,’ Diehard confessed. ‘Now I know it sounds awry and I don’t expect you to believe me, sir, but I caught hold and took a fair time bringing those animals to the saddle. Found them wandering in the desert and was taking them into Prentice Bridge for proper right of ownership and sale when they was heisted from me.’
Beauregard looked from one of his attendant companions to the other, ‘So, you don’t have any proof of ownership, is that what you’re saying?’ The two men inclined their heads in agreement with their boss and smiled slyly at each other.
Diehard nodded agreement.
‘I am Mister Ormsby, the company lawyer,’ said one of the two toadies. ‘It would appear that Mister Beauregard has every right to the beast then,’ said the man haughtily. ‘He has paid money in good faith and whatever aspersions you may cast upon the sellers I think it’s fair to say that without any relevant deed of sale or evidence to the contrary the horse belongs to Mister Beauregard.’
‘Well said, Ormsby,’ rumbled Beauregard. ‘There you have it, that’s the law speaking. Now, fellow, I’ll make you a good price for your buckboard. At least you’ll walk away with something, what do you say?’
‘Told you and I can’t keep saying it, that wagon ain’t mine to sell. Maybe you ain’t one to mind taking stolen goods but that’s something that don’t sit right in my book.’
‘Goddamned audacity!’ snapped Beauregard. ‘What are you? A common cow herder by the look of you and you speak to me like that. I’ll have you know, with one snap of my fingers I’ll have enough men here to take that wagon off your hands without spending a dime.’
Diehard lowered his head threateningly, ‘Maybe so, mister. But I will bust your chops real good first you try it.’
Beauregard spat to one side in noisy anger and Ormsby laid a restraining hand on his arm, ‘Perhaps, Mister Beauregard, it may be wiser to avoid confrontation. You will know how these rough Frontier sort can be.’
‘Y
eah,’ butted in Diehard. ‘It’s called ‘honest’, that’s how we rough Frontier sort are.’
Turning on his heel angrily, Beauregard strode off quickly followed by his scurrying attendants.
‘Shoot!’ said Nosey when they were out of earshot. ‘I guess maybe he got it right about that horse but he sure does it in a mean old way.’
‘That’s a fact,’ agreed Diehard. ‘Where they keeping that pony?’
‘You ain’t thinking of….’
‘No,’ Diehard shook his head. ‘Nothing like that. Just wanted to see her again, is all.’
The canvas flap of the hospital tent behind pulled back and Mister Chin stepped out.
‘Hey there, Mister Chin,’ said Diehard. ‘That doctor behaving himself? Your boys getting treatment?’
Mister Chin screwed his lip and raised one shoulder in an enigmatic shrug.
‘Damn his hide,’ snarled Diehard, who’s blood was already up after his clash with Beauregard, and with a face drained of color he pulled back the flap and strode into the tent.
The wounded men were lying sprawled on the grubby beds and it looked as if little had been done to ease their suffering. The doctor was sitting straddle-legged on a folding chair at the head of the ward and was in the process of trying to open a full bottle of whiskey. He was still soaked through and ignoring his condition by concentrating on squeezing the cork from the bottle with determined attention.
Diehard drew the Schofield as he came, cocking the hammer and holding the pistol alongside his leg as he strode up behind the doctor. The man looked up at him hazily, ‘I’m…. I’m getting to it,’ he promised. ‘Just need a restorative shot to bring me around.’
In one swoop, Diehard smashed the bottle apart with the long barrel of his six-shooter. Glass and liquor flew in a burst that startled the drunk. Then Diehard rested the tip of the barrel against the doctor’s knee.
‘I mean it, you ass. You don’t see to these people and I aim to blow your kneecap off.’
‘My bottle!’ gasped the doctor, looking down dazedly at the broken glass and pool of whiskey. ‘You broke my bottle.’
‘Damn right and if you don’t help these fellows right now, you’ll be down there with it.’
‘Come on,’ slurred the doctor. ‘They’re only Chinese for heaven’s sake. They hardly feel a thing, little more than animals the whole pack of them.’
Diehard rapped him hard across the side of the skull with the pistol and that widened the doctor’s eyes.
‘You listening to me?’ said Diehard. ‘Paying close attention now? Get up and do your business or, by God, I will hurt you some more.’
Reluctantly the drunk got to his feet and rubbing his head he staggered over to the first bed.
‘Mister Chin,’ said Diehard to the Chinaman who had followed him in with Nosey. ‘See he gets help. Get this place cleaned up, throw out those waste buckets, sweep it out and bring in new bedding. Any more trouble from him you let me know.’
‘So obliged,’ said Mister Chin, bowing deeply. ‘Will do.’
‘Come on, Nosey. Let’s go see my horse.’
They had tied off the pure white to a stake over beside the locomotive where Beauregard had his own special carriage set aside. The horse stood proudly, its mane flying in the breeze like driven snow. Shaking its head the animal skittered nervously from side to side. The mare was clearly disturbed by all the activity going on around; the stink of oil, smoke and blasts of hissing steam from the engine did not make things any easier for the creature.
‘Poor critter,’ said Diehard, shaking his head sadly. ‘She ain’t used to all this ruckus.’
‘Beautiful looking animal,’ said Nosey. ‘Sure is a shame. These people don’t know a good thing when they got it.’
‘Well,’ sighed Diehard. ‘Not much I can do about it, Beauregard has rightful claim and I don’t have a leg to stand on before the law with nothing but my word as a say-so.’
‘For what its worth,’ said Nosey. ‘I take your word on it.’
‘Thanks, partner. Leastways, I aim to track down those no-accounts. You see which way they was headed?’
Nosey raised an arm and pointed due northwest.
‘Okay, I guess I’ll be on the road again then as time’s a-wasting.’
‘You want some company?’ asked Nosey. ‘I’ve had it with this place. That Beauregard is one big pain in the ass. Allus telling a body how to do his own job, just can’t keep his nose out no how. I reckon I’m done with it here.’
Diehard looked over at him, ‘You sure about that, it may be I’m heading into some trouble down the way.’
Nosey shrugged, ‘We all gets to meet trouble some day or the other.’
‘Well, I’d be glad of your company if you’re sure, Nosey.’
‘Let’s do it then, I’ll go get some back pay I got coming and collect my gear.’
‘See you over at the buckboard.’
Diehard was watering his mules by the corral when Mister Chin sidled up quietly to stand beside him.
‘Hey there, everything okay?’ Diehard asked.
‘Velly good. I come thank you, now doctor do good work. Makee fellows all better.’
‘I’m glad of it.’
‘I come tell you something,’ muttered the Chinaman conspiratorially.
‘That so?’ said Diehard, distracted by checking a loose bridle buckle.
‘I have man here, Chinee man. He know horse, man who work with Wind Horse.’
‘Wind Horse? What’s that?’
‘Special animal in China. One of sacred animals. They say wind is like basic goodness and can be ridden same way. This white horse is such animal, you ride him he bring well being and good fortune.’
‘Sure thing,’ said Diehard doubtfully.
‘No, not what you think. This man he shaman, you understand? He make white horse not too much like boss man.’
Diehard smiled, ‘I reckon that pony will do that all by itself.’
Mister Chin eyed him, the crinkles in his weathered face crunching down so his eyes almost vanished from view.
‘You will see,’ he said. ‘Chinaman grateful.’
‘Well, Mister Chin, I’m obliged for your concern but I lost that pony two times over already. I reckon that’s how it has to be.’
The old man folded one hand in the other and bowed deeply, ‘Farewell, Mister Diehar’, may good fortune follow you and your way be prosperous.’
‘So long, Mister Chin. You hang in there.’
Chapter Seven
They camped out on the open prairie that night.
Nosey had brought his own pony along and the horse and mules were fed and then hobbled over by the buckboard whilst Diehard cooked them a meal over a small campfire. The two ate their food in silence and settled down around the fire afterwards.
‘I see them beads hanging round your neck, Diehard. You a Christian fellow?’
‘My ma brought me up in the Roman way. She’s kinda religious.’
Nosey hummed thoughtfully, ‘Never had such an education like that myself. It make you feel better, all that praying and such?’
Diehard snuffled a laugh, ‘Not so you’d notice but I guess its good to know there’s something better waiting down the road.’
‘You believe that? All that heaven and hell stuff.’
‘I guess.’
‘Well, I sure seen enough devils already,’ chuckled Nosey. ‘Maybe I spotted a few angels as well along the way.’
He took out a tobacco sack and rolled himself a spill, ‘Yessir, I raised me some hell in my younger days so I reckon it don’t look too good for me when my time comes.’
‘How many years you got on you, Nosey?’
Nosey stared skywards for a while as he estimated, ‘Don’t rightly know for sure but I done time in the army back in the war. I was a sight younger then, so maybe thirty something now could even be forty years old. Never did keep count.’
‘Did you go through the whole war?’
‘That when you saw your angels?’
Nosey chuckled dryly and lit his cigarette, puffing contentedly. His face took on a Puckish look, the large nose and big ears creating the appearance of an imp in the firelight. ‘That was the time, indeed it was, why I reckon I seen the inside of every cat house they got from here to the Mexically border.’
‘You like that? The whoring, it never was my kind of thing.’
‘No?’ Nosey asked in surprise. ‘You got a wife at home then?’
‘No, sir, not yet. Maybe I got me a girl though?’
‘Is that so? Pretty is she?’
‘Sure is, sweetest thing. Like a clear day after a rain shower when the whole world smells fresh. I think I aim to marry that lady when I’m done with this.’
‘So, let me get this straight, Diehard. You is planning to marry this gal and you’ve never been with an all-night woman yet?’
Diehard lowered his head and stared into the firelight unsure of how he should feel at such a direct personal question.
‘I guess not,’ he admitted finally.
‘Never seen a full on naked woman?’
‘No, sir. Not since I was a kid and swum in the creek back home with the other kids.’
‘Phoowee! You needs an education, boy.’
Nosey rolled over and drew his saddlebags towards him. He delved inside the bags and drew out a small package wrapped in an oilcloth rag.
‘Now this here,’ he said, handing the pack across to Diehard. ‘This here is where your education begins.’
Carefully, Diehard unwrapped the parcel. Inside he found a stack of card-backed photographs that consisted of a collection of well-thumbed prints, all of them favoring risqué ladies of the night. Mostly the figures were partially clothed, some with feathered hats and pearl necklaces and little else but smiles for the camera. The women were generously endowed both above and below the waistline with their middles tucked in under ridiculously tight corsets that pushed up plump bosoms and exposed bare shoulders. Patterned stockings supported by extravagant lace garters covered high-kicking and sturdy legs. Collectively, they lounged provocatively on cushions and chairs against backdrops of potted plants and hanging curtains.