Diehard

by Tony Masero

  Diehard drove on past her without a glance and drove on up to the house, reining in the mules and sitting there unmoving.

  Aileen ran after him, a frown of concern creasing her brow.

  ‘Charlie, Charlie, what’s wrong? Are you okay?’

  Diehard jerked as if suddenly awoken from a dream, he looked about himself as if only just realizing where he was and then he looked down at her.

  ‘Oh, hi, Aileen. Guess I must have drifted off there for a while.’

  ‘You look to be dead beat, come on now. Get on down here. Let me take you inside.’

  ‘Sure,’ Diehard agreed, stiffly easing himself up and climbing slowly down.

  ‘The horses….’ He began.

  ‘Don’t worry, son,’ said John Baldwin coming out onto the porch. ‘I’ll take care of them.’

  ‘Thanks, Sheriff,’ Diehard husked dryly. ‘See, I got me back two of mine at least.’

  ‘I see that,’ agreed Baldwin. ‘A tale to tell, I guess.’

  ‘Sure is. Brought your buckboard back too, as I promised. ‘Fraid I had to bust the tailgate off and she’s got a few bullet holes in her.’

  ‘That’s okay,’ smiled Baldwin benevolently. ‘You get in here and let Aileen get you some coffee.’

  Aileen put her arm around his waist, almost as if he were a wounded man and helped him up onto the porch.

  Diehard felt her soft hair touch his cheek, ‘God! You smell great, Aileen.’

  ‘That all you got to say,’ she frowned. ‘I got me a vegetable garden that smells great too.’

  ‘I mean you look swell,’ he said apologetically.

  ‘Well, that sounds better but I got to say Charlie, you stink worse than a pig pen yourself, first thing for you, buster, is a bath.’

  ‘Yeah, sorry, I ain’t had much chance….’

  ‘I know, I know,’ she answered softly, one hand reaching up to touch his face gently with her fingers. ‘It’s good to have you back.’

  He nodded and slumped down in a chair before the kitchen table as Aileen bustled about him fetching coffee and starting to heat water for his bath.

  ‘I reckon I could sleep for a week,’ Diehard admitted.

  Aileen set a mug of coffee down before him, ‘You can, you can sleep all you want. Don’t say anything now, have your bath and rest first.’

  ‘Thanks, Aileen.’

  She turned to check on the boiling water and when she looked back he was face down on the table, his head resting on his arms and fast asleep.

  Tears started in her eyes at sight of him and she bit her lower lip.

  ‘My poor boy,’ she murmured.

  The next morning, rested, clean and dressed in fresh clothes loaned him by Baldwin, Diehard felt able to face the world. Over breakfast he recounted for them his adventures, glossing over the time spent with Lilly, as he could see no advantage in letting that particular cat out of the bag.

  ‘…. So when those two no-accounts were done and finished,’ Diehard told his two attentive listeners. ‘They all said I could have my horses back as there was nobody else with better claim. So I got me the bay and the gray with legitimate papers written on them and all. Mister Chance Hopkins and the army captain was real helpful on that score and saw me alright with the local judge. Him being the starting agent, he seen what Carter did in costing me the race and on that score he waived all charges and let me go my way.’

  ‘Hell of a story,’ rumbled Baldwin.

  Aileen reached out a hand across the table and laid it on his arm, ‘Leastways you’re back with us safe and sound.’

  Diehard grinned, ‘And I’ll have me some money too when I sell them ponies.’ He paused then and took a deep breath, ‘Mister Baldwin, John, seeing as I has some prospects now I’d surely like to ask you for your daughter’s hand.’

  Baldwin gave him a tight, pleased smile, ‘You done well, my boy. You stood up for what you believe in and saw it through. Counts for a lot by me, a man finishing what he sets out to do. I reckon that will be fine with me, long as Aileen sees it the same.’

  Aileen gave Diehard a solemn look, ‘That I do,’ she said. ‘Be right pleased to be wife to you, Diehard Charlie.’

  In the slightly embarrassed silence that followed, Diehard cut in, ‘How’s that stallion of mine been?’

  ‘Herido?’ Aileen’s face brightened. ‘He’s just fine, real lively. You want to go see him?’

  ‘Sure do.’

  They strolled over to the barn, arm in arm.

  ‘I sure missed you, honey,’ Diehard confided.

  ‘Me too,’ she said, gently releasing him and pushing the barn door back.

  There was the black stallion in its stall and it stared curiously at Diehard for a long moment before shaking its head in a flurry of recognition.

  ‘I guess he knows you,’ said Aileen.

  ‘Reckon so,’ agreed Diehard, stroking the animal affectionately.

  ‘You ain’t going to sell him too, are you?’

  ‘No way, fact is, I think he’ll be a pretty fine wedding gift for my bride.’

  ‘Oh, really, Charlie. That would be wonderful.’

  Diehard was pleased to see the sparkle that came into her eyes.

  ‘I reckon you’ve taken so much good care of him since I’ve been gone, he won’t hardly know me no more anyhow.’

  ‘Oh, get away,’ she said, wryly nudging his arm. ‘He knows you just fine.’

  ‘Maybe,’ Diehard smiled.

  ‘So what do you aim to do now?’

  ‘First off, I reckon we should find us a preacher and I has a sale to arrange.’

  ‘Okay,’ laughing, Aileen agreed. ‘Well, at least give me time to get me a wedding dress and bake a cake.’

  ‘No, I ain’t waiting. I waited long enough, I’ll go into town and get it figured.’

  ‘Can’t say I disagree,’ she said, sliding into his arms. ‘We got us a full time churchman down there now and they’re building a proper place of worship. But what about this?’ she said, flicking the rosary that still hung about his neck.

  Diehard looked down at the cross, ‘I reckon it don’t matter too much to me now. I think it’ll be alright in the sight of God either way, long as we make it right.’

  ‘And your ma?’

  Diehard wrinkled his nose, ‘That might be a sight more tricky; she’s kinda stuck in her ways. But I reckon once she meets you, it’ll be just fine.’

  ‘Why don’t you bring her out here to be with us?’

  Diehard thought on the proposition a moment, ‘That would be real nice, if she’ll come. I’d like that. She ain’t getting any younger and I’d like to care for her proper.’

  ‘Then we’ll go see her and ask,’ Aileen said decisively.

  Diehard gave her a smile and swept her tight in the circle of his arms, ‘Already taking charge, huh?’

  ‘Somebody has to,’ she said, lifting her chin and kissing him sweetly on the lips.

  They both rode Herido into town, Aileen sidesaddle behind him with her arms encircled about his waist. She insisted they travel together as she did not want to let Diehard out of her sight now he was back and besides she had a wedding dress to order, people to tell and the ceremony to be arranged. Diehard would go see the notary to arrange proper papers on Herido making the horse legally his, then he would post sale notice of the two other horses and finally they both had to go see the preacher.

  Diehard felt better already. It had been a draining journey for him and the terrible loss of Wind Horse had struck deep into his heart but with Aileen snuggled up behind him and plenty to plan for in the days ahead his spirits lifted. They were busily discussing the prospect of building a house for themselves near to the Baldwin place with a small cabin attachment for Diehard’s mother if she wanted to join them, when the town came into sight.

  Even as they approached Prentice Bridge, Diehard could see that things had changed. The framework of the new chapel steeple was rising at one end of town and other new construction w
ork was in progress along the main road in. The stage depot still stood and the flurry of a fresh team ready in the corral advised that a stage was due.

  Diehard and Aileen parted company outside the saloon, she going to the general store and he to the lawyer who also acted as notary. It proved, as most legal activities do, to be a protracted business outlined by the pedantic lawyer. As there was no proven bill of sale or of ownership, a due diligence search had to be made for the original owner. Then the papers describing the horse’s salient features in detail would be presented to a circuit judge for approval after which they would be returned to the notary for signing and witnessing. It was a long-winded and tiresome business and it was only after an hour of this tedious process that Diehard managed his escape.

  He was standing talking to the blacksmith and arranging to post note of his sale of the two mares when he saw the Butterfield Stage pull in. It was a busy little scene as passengers dismounted and the shotgun guard tossed down luggage and mailbags from the roof. He was distracted from all the activity by Aileen’s call and he turned to see her skipping across the road towards him, a wrapped parcel of cloth under her arm.

  All in all, it was a sight that filled Diehard with pleasure, after all he had recently been through to see a normal town going about its everyday activities and the woman he loved coming towards him with happiness shining from her face. He shook hands with the sooty blacksmith on completion of their business and turned to grin at Aileen.

  The smile dropped from his face as a dark shape loomed up behind her and a brawny arm around the throat jerked her to a standstill.

  ‘Look here, Diehard Charlie,’ a harsh voice called. ‘Lost me an arm, thanks to you. This your lady, is it? How about I lose you a right hand too?’

  Aileen choked a gasp, her face reddening as the grip tightened around her throat. Desperately, her hands reached up to claw at the arm holding her but the grip was strong and tight and she could find no purchase. Although the attacker’s face was mostly hidden behind his fiancé, Diehard made out enough of the features to recognize Reggie Rayde.

  ‘Steady on, Reggie,’ Diehard answered in a level voice. ‘You got a bone to pick with me not the lady. Let her go and we’ll sort this out between us.’

  Diehard had come into town unarmed, his only weapon being the Winchester rifle now resting in the bucket alongside his saddle on Herido, the horse tied off outside the saloon across the road from him.

  ‘You killed my brothers, Diehard, you and that bitch whore of yours,’ snarled Reggie. ‘Now I aim to claim some payback.’

  Diehard could see Reggie’s stump waving in shadow behind Aileen’s choking form, the remainder of his upper arm above the elbow bound in a thick swathe of bandages. It looked to Diehard as if there was fresh blood there and he realized that the operation could not have been carried out long since.

  Desperately, Diehard searched around for a weapon, ‘You got a gun here?’ he hissed at the blacksmith from the corner of his mouth, who still stood frozen beside him.

  ‘No, I ain’t,’ the blacksmith murmured nervously.

  ‘You!’ called Reggie. ‘Blacksmith, back away.’

  ‘Okay,’ answered the blacksmith, ‘I’m going. Sorry, mister,’ he apologized to Diehard in a whisper, his eyes slipping away to wordlessly indicate the nearby forge.

  Reggie jerked Aileen clear off her feet and carried her in a strangling grip over to confront Diehard. They stood facing each other, not more than six feet apart and Diehard could see Aileen’s eyes flickering and rolling up in her head as the breath was squeezed from her.

  ‘You watching?’ snarled Reggie, his chin buried in the back of Aileen’s neck and his wrist under her chin. ‘She sure is a pretty one, ain’t she? This is what it looks like when you see what you love dying, you like it, asshole?’

  Aileen’s booted heel came down hard on Reggie’s toe and he grunted in surprise. His grip loosened enough for Aileen to tear at his strangling arm with her hands and bring down a handsome bite on his wrist. Reggie yelped and Aileen slid down from under the ring of his gripping arm and fell to the ground.

  The long cast-iron tongs that the blacksmith had indicated lying on the rim of the forge next to him were quickly in Diehard’s hands. He caught them up and in one continuous movement swung the heavy metal in a loop that slapped into Reggie’s jaw and spun the miner’s head away.

  The miner growled, shook his head and spat a trickle of blood; he reached down with his one good hand to collect Aileen who was gulping air and collapsed at his feet.

  His fingers were in the nape of Aileen’s dress when Diehard swung again, the tongs whistling in an uppercut that connected under Reggie’s chin and threw him back a few paces. But he was a tough mining man and not easily put down. Giving up on Aileen, Reggie drew the Colt pistol stuck in the waistband of his pants.

  ‘Drop it!’ he barked.

  Resentfully, Diehard obeyed and allowed the pair of tongs to slip from his hand.

  ‘This’ll be almost as good for me, seeing you go out this way,’ spat Reggie, cocking the pistol. ‘I’m going to do you piece-by-piece, cowboy. A slug in each arm for my brothers and then one just for me and that one will be between your eyes, asshole. When it’s done I’m going to give personal attention to your lady friend, so think on that as you die, sucker.’

  ‘The monk do the cutting for you?’ asked Diehard, jerking his chin at the stump.

  ‘Yeah, he done it.’

  ‘I got a last request.’

  ‘You got a last request?’ snarled Reggie in disbelief. ‘And what the hell is that, before I put lead in you and that chippie of yours lying there.’

  ‘See this,’ said Diehard, sweeping off his hat and tugging the rosary from around his neck and up over his head. ‘I’d like it to go to that monk. He was a good man and it would find a rightful home with him.’

  ‘You what?’ barked Reggie, with a laugh. ‘You think I’m going back out into that desert for you? Are you crazy?’

  ‘Here,’ said Diehard. ‘Take it, will you?’

  He tossed the beads in the air, the silver cross flashing in the sunlight as it flew in an arc between them. As Reggie instinctively watched the loop of glittering beads coming towards him, Diehard dived forward too. As the beads pattered against Reggie’s chest, Diehard crashed into him with arms looped around the miner’s waist.

  Reggie wasn’t too bright but he was quick enough and he swiftly brought down the cocked pistol slamming it against Diehard’s head. The sensitive gun went off at the blow, the bang deafeningly loud next to Diehard’s ear and the bullet singeing a line through his hair.

  Diehard shook his head; he was stunned by the blow and deafened by the nearby pistol shot. Dazedly he looked up at the looming figure of the miner from where he crouched in the dust.

  Reggie said something to him but Diehard could only hear a rush of indistinct sound as if he lay deep under a bed of water. Reggie smiled victoriously, his eyes narrowing as he raised the still smoking Colt, levering back the hammer and with a grimace of obvious pleasure he leveled the pistol at Diehard.

  The next thing Diehard knew was that Reggie staggered and a bemused look came over his features, he looked away up the road. Diehard followed his gaze and saw John Baldwin walking steadfastly towards them down the center of the deserted street as he cranked another shell into his rifle. He raised the Winchester to his shoulder and fired again. Diehard saw the puff of smoke but could hear nothing over the rush of sound that blocked his hearing.

  Reggie jolted and weaved, his head tilting on his shoulders as one leg crooked at the knee under him. Baldwin came on grimly and fired again. This time his bullet took the miner full in the chest and threw him from his feet and Reggie shot backwards to fall in a cloud of dust to the ground, the stump of his severed arm waving feebly in the air for a few seconds before it stilled.

  Aileen was quickly at Diehard’s side, cradling his head and speaking to him urgently. The pale soft skin of her neck was r
ed where Reggie had gripped her and Diehard knew there would be bruising there later. He could hear nothing and indicated such with waving fingers. He looked at her concerned face, at the color of her eyes and the soft fall of her hair and knew deep in himself that he loved this woman more than his own life.

  Baldwin was there, standing over Reggie’s body and kicking the Colt away from the dead man’s hand. He turned and spoke to Diehard, the words now coming intermittently through the fog in his hearing the close gun blast had caused.

  ‘Came… time,’ Diehard picked out. ‘You….’

  ‘Thanks, Sheriff,’ Diehard mumbled. ‘Guess you saved our bacon but I ain’t hearing too good just now.’

  ‘That’s…. ready…. feet.’

  He took Diehard’s elbow and helped him up. Aileen was beside him, her fingers searching the bloody wound that ran down from his hairline.

  ‘It’s okay,’ she said with breathless relief. ‘No more than a graze, that bullet must have bounced off your skull. It was a close one though.’

  ‘Sure don’t feel like no miserable graze,’ Diehard complained.

  ‘That one of the brother’s you told us about?’ Baldwin asked.

  Diehard nodded affirmation and then wished he hadn’t as a wave of dizziness swept through his battered head.

  Noisy townspeople were running over and gathering solicitously around them, the curious standing gawking in a circle around Reggie’s body.

  ‘Come on people,’ said Baldwin. ‘It’s all done now. Somebody help me get this trash off the street and over to the undertaker’s.’

  As they moved away, Aileen took Diehard’s arm, pressing herself close up against him, ‘Just who was that ‘bitch whore’ that he was speaking of?’ she asked, a curious frown creasing her brow.

  Oh, Lord! Thought Diehard, how do I answer that one? ‘What’s that you say, dearest? My hearing ain’t back to normal yet.’

  ‘Oh, never mind, we’ll talk about it later,’ breathed Aileen, stooping and picking up his rosary beads. ‘Here,’ she said holding them out to him, ‘Maybe you’ll need these. Looks like they saved you once, might be they’ll save you again.’