by G. P. Grewal
"That is what you're doing to me, ain't it? Making love?"
"Ain't nothing else," I said. "You know how I feel. Ain't no secret I'm keeping. I just haven't had the chance to say it, I guess."
"Tell me, Elgin."
"I love you, Gitty."
Were nothing I could have given her that would have pleased her more than that, and it weren't no lie and she knew it and I did too, and that night she never once stopped holding onto me, even as we slept. After that, things was even more different, like each one of us might have had a rope tying us to the other, so to speak. Wherever I went, even hunting rabbits, Gitty went with me, and to her credit she even became a damn good shot, and between the two of us there were more than plenty to eat and we stayed on by the creek being happy together until our bullets started running out, and then it was time to move on.
There weren't too much left of Phoenix after all the fighting that had taken place there all those years ago, but a man we passed on the road told us there was some good trading going on at a post that had been set up where the 60 met the 10. We had plenty of jerky and rabbit hides too, and figured they'd be good for trading—not only for bullets, but maybe even for some new clothes for Gitty.
"I hope so," Gitty told me. "I'd like to wear something nice for you, like maybe one of them pretty summer dresses I used to wear back in Georgia. Maybe we could find you some new duds too. You'd look mighty fine in a nice pair of blue jeans, I bet. Not that you don't look fine wearing just what you are right now."
"Kind of you to say, Gitty, but how about you mind that rifle, because unless my eyes is playing tricks on me, there's someone else coming this way."
"Are, Elgin."
"Huh?"
"Unless your eyes are playing tricks on you."
"Ain't it what I said, woman?"
We stood and watched and sure enough weren't no tricks they was playing. Neither was it an illusion conjured up by the hot sun, because there, far up the road, was a lone figure walking. He ain't seen us at first, but then suddenly he stopped and was looking at us too, though in the end weren't nothing either side could do but get on with it and keep going, worst thing a man could do out there being to show he was chicken and run. Running only said you was scared, scared being weak, weak being a dead man alongside the road.
My neck was all sweaty and that sun kept beating down and Gitty was walking alongside me. Then he stopped, and after a couple more paces we stopped too, each one of us as astonished as the other.
"You!" he said.
"Well, I'll be!"
"You'll be all right! I never thought I'd see your blasted face again. And you, Gitty! How the hell you end up with this dirty Mexican? He kidnap you?"
"Don't you be saying my name, you bastard!"
"Easy now everyone," I said. "Where's the old woman?"
"The old woman? Dead. Them damn Mexicans found us as we was sleeping. They must have snuck up on Bill while he was sitting watch. They killed him, then would have done me in too if I hadn't been such a light sleeper. I smashed one of their ugly faces with my rifle, but then them other two wrestled me to the ground. Alice, she done jump on one of them but that Mexican cut her up good, though bless her soul it bought me enough time to kill his buddy before turning my rifle on him and shooting him right in the face."
"Looks like you got lucky," I said.
"Lucky? Hell, ain't no luck about it. Ain't no Mexican good enough to kill me. Bill and Randy maybe, Big John that dumb fella, and poor old Alice too, but here I am standing here, though the one thing I'm wondering is what the hell happened to you and how was it you was nowhere to be found after I did in them Mexicans?"
"Don't you be asking her no questions," I said. "Ain't none of your place to be doing that no more."
He laughed. "Is that right? So she's yours now, I see. Well I ain't gonna fight you over it, if that's what you're scared of. I reckon I've done had enough good times with her as it is."
My pistol was out before he could even jump. I smashed him good in the face with it, feeling something break and seeing blood. He fell and I kicked him hard in the head, then again, maybe more, so much wrath just pouring out of me with no way of shutting it off. When it was over, he laid there not moving. I wondered if he were dead, Gitty staring at him with cold eyes, though her hands were shaking as she pointed the rifle.
"Gitty," I said.
I jumped back as that rifle cracked. Then she fired one more time, just to make sure, blood spilling out of him all over the road. She looked at me, the crazy, cold look in her eyes fading as she stared.
There weren't no words. I bent down, trying not to get my boots in the blood, taking his rifle and whatever else I could find. Then we was walking on, that body left there for whatever was hungry to make a meal of, Gitty and I not talking for a while.
"Wasn't no man to feel sorry about," she finally said.
"I know, Gitty."
Two days we traveled down that old highway, passing folks here and there, sometimes telling where we was coming from and where we was going, though sometimes we'd pass saying nothing at all, each stranger keeping a wary eye on the other. We learned it from some we talked to that these were dangerous parts, that bandits had been preying on folks going to and from the trading post that laid not too far ahead, close enough to reach before dark, if we was lucky. We never did get there before the sun went down though, and so we had to sleep that night alongside the road. Gitty wanted to keep going but I was too tired, and besides, it was hard to see what danger was lurking nearby or who you might come up on in the dark.
Early the next morning we woke safe and sound. Now that the summer was getting done with, it were real chilly, though in a few hours that sun would still be hot enough to melt flesh from the bone.
As we walked, Gitty didn't seem too happy and I worried about it, figuring maybe it was on account of that man she killed. I asked her what was wrong and she didn't say nothing at first, just staring off down that long highway that stretched on forever with a faraway look in her eye.
"I don't like it out here," she said. "Ain't nothing around but bad men and death. We should have stayed on at the creek where we were happy. I liked it back there, like it was the kind of place we could make home."
"Ain't like we can't go back," I said. "Let's just see what kind of trading we can do up at this post, and if you ain't wanting to keep on walking to California after that then ain't no reason we should go."
"California? I thought we were just coming here to trade."
"Well, yeah, just some trading then. California was just something I was turning over in my head."
"Where in California were you thinking of taking us? You're still dreaming about Los Angeles?"
"Well I guess I've heard so much about it that I just wanted to be able to see it myself. I heard a man can make a real good living out there digging up salvage, what if he can survive the dangers and all. Hell, if I could just afford a couple of mules let alone a horse and wagon, just imagine all the stuff I could haul back."
"Oh, Elgin, you don't want to go there. I don't know who told you all those things about that place, but it's nowhere you want to go. There's hardly nothing left standing there even, just a bunch of crumbling old buildings and too many skeletons to even count. I've even heard that there were people living there that live on eating each other and drinking blood. Ain't nowhere a man's going and getting out alive, and that's the truth of it."
"And who was telling you this?" I wondered. "Maybe them's just stories to scare people away. I know if I was striking it rich out there and didn't want everyone coming, I'd be telling all sorts of stories too."
"You don't believe me? They ain't just stories, Elgin. But by the way you're talking about it though it sounds like you're planning on going anyway just so you can find out."
"No, I ain't so ready to go anymore. Just forget it. We'll do some trading and maybe find you that nice dress you're wanting, then go back to the creek until it dries up."
>
"Promise?"
"I promise, Gitty."
It made her happy to hear me say it, and she weren't sad anymore after that. She came up beside me and gave me a kiss, putting her arm in mine. All was forgotten after that, Lost Angeles and that man we'd done in who without a doubt had it coming, devil take his hide. And though we had to keep a sharp eye out for the bandits we'd been told about, there weren't no one else we saw until at last we spotted the walls and the tall watchtower and the men guarding them, and we knew it for the trading post and excited to finally be there we picked up our step.
Chapter 8
It didn't seem so much like a trading post but one of them castles I once read about in a story about knights and wizards that lived in old times, only this one had walls made not of rock but of piled up automobiles and rusted metal and big blocks of broken concrete and all other sorts of scrap that made it look like we was coming upon a giant junkyard. Then there was the watchtower that reached over the walls, and I spotted a man holding a rifle looking our way as we approached, no doubt making sure we wasn't some bad guys coming up.
There were an opening in the wall, and another armed man was standing there and as we got near I saw him giving us a hard eye.
"Howdy," I said.
"Good day."
He was sporting a mean-looking military style rifle just like the man standing in the tower and had one of them fancy bandoleers full of bullets strapped across his chest.
"What's your business here?" he said.
"Just looking to do some trading."
"Sorry, but it doesn't look like you've got much to trade. If you're looking for a place to lie around, this ain't it. We don't take in vagrants here, pal."
"We'll, mister, I don't know nothing about being no vagrant, though if by that you mean I might be looking to cause trouble it ain't so. We ain't got too much, but I have some damn good jerky and some fine rabbit pelts too. I'd even be willing to let you try a sample, if you'd like."
He scowled, shaking his head. "No, I'll pass on that. OK, you can go in. Do anything stupid though and you're going to have to answer for it. And keep your guns holstered unless you're looking to be target practice for my friend up there in the tower and everything will be all right."
I thanked him, understanding his lack of hospitality must have been on account of all the trouble they'd had, and together me and Gitty passed through those walls of scrap metal and stacked up junkers that must have been over twice as high as any man. Inside was lots of people and long tables full of all sorts of wares, though, at first glance at least, most of it looked like junk: old machinery and metal parts that had been scavenged from who knows where, old shoes and worn out clothes, then some other fella who had a bunch of dirty cages full of live chickens, and another man who was selling hogs. The smell was pretty bad in there—the animals mostly, though it also stunk like a lot of sweat, lots of grimy, hard-looking folks pushing by each other and shouting as they traded the junk they'd brought with them for new stuff, squawking and hawking, men and women of all kinds, rangy, hard-eyed people who had walked who knows how many miles to get there across the hot, deadly wastes.
Apart from the less exciting stuff already mentioned, there was plenty of guns to be found too, though most were in sorry shape, the few that weren't being nothing that I with my measly supply of jerky and rabbit hides could afford. Besides guns though, there were plenty of ammo too, which we was undoubtedly in dire need of. One merchant in particular, some gruff-looking man with a bald head and lots of tattoos, had enough bullets to supply a whole army, telling me that if I was looking for ammunition I should be talking to him because he were the best bullet maker in all of Arizona. After seeing what I had to trade though, he frowned, finally agreeing to give me a couple of boxes of what he described as "surplus quality" ammunition for nearly all my pelts and a silver cigarette lighter I'd been saving since finding it a few years back, the thing that made it so special being that on it were a picture of a naked lady, and a real pretty one at that.
It were hard parting with that lighter, though I ain't have no more fuel for it anyway, and a naked lady I now had for real thanks to Gitty. I found her nearby going through a pile of old time clothing, and though she were sad she never found her summer dress, she did find a pretty blue scarf that were in real good condition, and, with some sweet talking, was able to get it for only a couple strips of my delicious jerky.
"How do you like it?" she asked as she tied it around her neck. It were a real feminine looking garment, with some fancy white flowers switched into the hem.
"It suits you real good. Real pretty and all."
"You think so? I think it's just wonderful."
"Yeah. It even matches your eyes. What a beautiful looking gal you is—are, I mean to say."
That made Gitty smile and she told me I was the sweetest thing for saying it, because saying things like that always made her happy. Like a "special woman" was the way she said I made her feel, which was just what I would have called her too.
When it was getting dark, the men with guns started shooing out the folks who didn't live there and couldn't stay unless they was willing to pay for the special privilege of spending the night. Neither me or Gitty could come up with enough stuff to make the man who'd let us in happy though, and so off we went, passing out the junk gate and leaving the trading post, or junker castle, or whatever you might have called it, behind. There was a lot of others who left too, most of them setting up camp a short distance from the walls, some still doing a little trading with each other, and since staying there in the company of others seemed a lot safer than going off and sleeping somewhere by ourselves, we decided to camp there near the rest of them that night.
There were some real interesting folks we saw there, though some pretty shady looking ones too, though it didn't seem to me there'd be much trouble that would go down being so close to the walls. We talked to a few folks, though not trusting any of them I didn't tell them much of where we was coming from or headed, like about our cozy little spot near the creek where the hunting was good and the clean water never stopped flowing.
"To Phoenix," one said he was headed, "though not much left there, I've heard."
"Tucson," said another, "though I heard them Mexicans have been trying to take it and there's been lots of fighting day and night."
They didn't seem like nothing special, just folks drifting here and there and struggling to get by. It were one in particular who caught my attention though, a real tough-looking fella, judging from both his face and the flashy shooter resting in the black leather holster at his hip. That gun was right beautiful from what I could see of it, which to be honest weren't much more than its fancy ivory grip, though what little I saw of it said a lot. It weren't no cheap pistol, that much I could tell, though I didn't want to get too close for a better look. It weren't a good idea to get too near a stranger when you was laying cov-a-tet eyes on his weapon, as they say, not unless you wanted to get shot.
Weren't no taking my eyes off that mysterious stranger though. He sat apart from the rest, staring into the big fire people came to gab around until finally he moved off to sit by himself. Gitty had since started talking to some raggedy woman who was there with a small group who said they was from back east. Arkansas, one of them told, which was pretty impressive since few people could have made it all them miles alive. I walked off a little, though not too far that I couldn't keep a good eye on her, trying real casual-like to get closer to the man with the fancy shooter who was sitting all alone puffing on a funny-smelling cigar, the scent of it carrying a good ways. He weren't like many men I'd seen before. He looked tough but tidy, with short stubbly hair and a clean-shaven face except for them big sideburns that made for a peculiar style. He seemed to sense me as I got near without making it known, and though I wondered if it were a good idea I couldn't help but move a little closer, acting like I were walking along minding my own business and by chance was going to pass him by
&nb
sp; As I passed, I looked up and saw him looking right at me. Not mean or anything, just calm.
"Evening," I said.
He didn't say nothing, just nodded, and even that didn't come right away.
"Say, I don't mean to bother you none, but you made me curious."
"Is that so?" he said.
"Yeah, well, not to be nosy, but I just seen you and your fancy pistol and you don't seem like the kind of man I'm used to seeing too often. Not that I'm wanting to disturb you, like I said, but I just had to find out what you was all about."
All that talking, yet he ain't said nothing at all.
"Name's Elgin."
I gave him my hand and surprisingly he shook it, though he still ain't say nothing back.
"Where you come from?" I said.
"Here and there," he finally spoke. "Not many places I haven't been actually, at least from here to Texas to up north as far as Montana before turning back."
"Montana? What's it like up there?"
"Hell. Just a bunch of savages, really. I wouldn't think of going up there if I was you. Most strangers are shot on sight, especially ones that look like they don't belong, if you get my meaning."
"I see. I'll keep it in mind then. That sure is a lot wandering though, especially for one walking it all alone. Me, I've traveled quite a bit too, though maybe not as far as you have. Did a lot of it by myself too, and thought I'd be doing a lot more like that before I met Gitty. Oh, that's my woman over there."
He looked over to where I was pointing, nodding as he gave her a good look.
"Looks like a fine woman," he said.
"Thank you kindly. She sure is. Might just get me into settling down. So, how about you? Are you out here all alone? Ain't you got no friends with you?"
"No. I've had some, here and there, but not anymore."
"Sorry to hear it. I know how it goes though, if it means something."
Again he ain't say nothing, just quietly nodded like he understood that too. And I ain't wanting to sound funny about it, but though he weren't paying much attention to me as he puffed on that little cigar, I couldn't help but stare, wondering just who he was and what him and his fancy shooter was all about, though I knew I was outstaying my welcome, seeing as he weren't one for small-talking and such.