by Hill, Bear
It would be untruthful of me to say I have complete confidence in our captain. You know of the queerness of which I have spoken in regard to his behavior in previous letters and I admittedly wonder how the captain will perform when no longer under the direct supervision of superior officers. But do not let my words upset you. I’m sure I’m overreacting where the captain is concerned. The scourge of the Navajo has been a long embarking that has taken its toll on us everyone. Despite what the officers would have us believe, Captain Arrington is only a man himself and so equally vulnerable to weariness of heart and head; more so due to his station, I’m sure.
As you know, the resistance we have encountered in the past from the Navajo has been little to none. There is no reason to for us to expect to receive anything different from these outliers that would force Captain Arrington to lead us into real battle. Regardless, I am but a lowly corporal, easily able to escape notice should the captain take to one of his more foul moods.
Please write soon, my dear one. Each new installment of your letters lifts my spirits. I cannot wait until I am once more home with you so that we may wed and make a life of our own. I have written to Padre Lopez and he has agreed to perform the ceremony upon my return. Do not worry about your father’s ill regard of me. When he sees the love I hold for you within my heart, and more importantly, the bounty I shall possess upon my return, he will have no choice but to give his approval of our marriage.
Give my love and respects to all our friends while keeping the most bountiful portion for yourself. Remember to write soon, to myself, Hector, and all the other boys for it gives them great pleasure to hear from home. I am counting the days until next I look upon your face.
In Friendship, Love, and truth,
I am yours truly,
Corporal Julio Martinez
Of Co. A 1st New Mexico Volunteer Calvary
Chapter 4
THE ATTACK
Farnsworth lay on his belly, his body extended its full length, his hands free but still inches from the knife he’d managed to knock off Garrett’s desk. Not the length of a pencil separated J.T. from his prize, but he might as well have been a hundred miles away. No matter how far he stretched, the knife remained on the other side of the desk and hopelessly out of reach.
“Damnation!“ Farnsworth pounded the floor with his fists. He rose to a sitting position beside his jailer, the stove he was shackled to. Its glowing embers provided the majority of the room’s illumination now that the sun had vanished behind the mountains. Farnsworth eyed the safe sitting across the room with disgust.
“How am I supposed to get at you,“ he asked the safe in desperation, “if I can’t get to the knife to pick my leg irons?“
The safe gave no answer. Farnsworth exhaled a large sigh.
He heard the door knob rattle and jumped to his feet.
The blonde whore appeared in the doorway. “Oh, I forgot you were up here.“
Farnsworth relaxed. A grin spread across his face.
“Will you walk into my parlor?“ said the Spider to the Fly.
He rose to his feet and bowed gracefully. “Be still my beating heart! Never hath a lovelier vision crossed mine eyes. Are you an angel come to take me away from this wearisome world?“
Farnsworth batted his eyelashes, making sure to peer up at Lacey from between the abundant curls draping across his handsome face.
The girl giggled and Farnsworth knew she was his.
“I ain’t no angel.“ She adjusted her clothes, suddenly self-conscious and unable to look Farnsworth in the eye. “Just one of Garrett’s whores.“
“One so gorgeous as you could never be a whore, Madame,“ Farnsworth confided, “no matter how many men may have had the honor of knowing your embrace.“
Lacey stepped into Garrett’s office. “You sure talk funny, Mister.“
“If my linguistic acrobatics confuse you, my dear, it is because I myself am confused—confused by your beauty and the undeniable feelings it produces within me! But alas, I do not even know the name by which heart’s desire is called—?“
“Uh, Lacey.“ It was all Farnsworth could do to not to explode with laughter when she actually performed a clumsy, half-assed curtsey.
“Ah,“ Farnsworth said. “Lacey. The name of a true goddess divine!
“I am Jonathan Tiberius Farnsworth the Third.“
Farnsworth’s chain rattled as he approached her and took her hand.
“That’s a big name, Mister—“
“Please, call me Jonathan.“
“A big name, Jonathan.“
“Unlike heavenly creatures such as you, Lacey, mere mortals such as I need large names to give us weight and consequence.“
“You’re teasing me.“
“I say thee nay, dear Lacey. I would not tease the person with whom I intend to spend the remainder of my days.“
Lacey’s eyes widened. “You saying you mean to marry me? We just met, here, now.“
“But the heart knows, sweet Lacey. And it is ancient in its knowledge! I have no doubt our essences danced together in the stardust eons before this wondrous night.“
“But how would we live?“ Lacey asked.
“My dear, surely you have heard of J.T. Farnsworth, world-famous scribe?“
Lacey stared at him, a blank expression on her face.
I am a wordsmith, my dear. A spinner of yarns! A weaver of tales! A pugiling pontificator!“
Lacey yielded no reaction.
“A writer,“ Farnsworth grumbled.
“—A writer?“ Lacey asked, scratching her head. “Of letters and such? I just don’t think—“
“My father is filthy rich, Lacey. Help me get out of here, and his gratitude would be without end.“
The light of greed filled Lacey’s eyes.
“Lacey!“ Garrett’s voice shouted from downstairs. “What the hell’s taking you so long, woman?“
Farnsworth’s eyebrows pyramided in expectation. “Yes, then—?“
Lacey looked Farnsworth up and down.
“You swear on the name of the baby Jesus your daddy is rich?“
“My dear, I don’t see what such frivolities—“
“Do you fucking swear it or not?“
Farnsworth sighed.
“Very well, then. I swear it on the name of the baby Jesus.“
“Swear what?“
“That my fucking daddy, as you say, is rich. Do we have a deal, then?“
“You bet your cute, rich ass we have a deal, Mister, uh, oh, Jonathan.“
“Excellent.“ Farnsworth held Lacey at arm’s length. “Here is the plan: you must lift the key from that jackanapes of a bounty hunter. When he and everyone else are asleep, secret your way back in here and then we shall abscond for my home. Agreed?“
Lacey nodded, but she would never have a chance to fulfill the bargain.
Neither of them would.
Farnsworth brought Lacey in close and kissed her full on the mouth. Whether by choice or habit, she accommodated him.
“Lacey!“ Garrett called. “Get your ass down here! Now!“
“I got to go.“ Lacey pulled away from Farnsworth and grabbed some towels from a cabinet across the room.
“Until tonight!“
Farnsworth blew Lacey a kiss as she exited. When the door was shut, he danced a jig, the shackle at his ankle rattling with the effort. Then J.T. spotted the knife still lying out of reach on the floor and cursed.
“Amazing—“ Corporal Martinez said. He held a candle in his hand so that he could examine the doc’s patient more closely. Night had fallen, and though no one in the saloon knew it yet, death followed close behind.
“Fucking unbelievable is what it is!“ Hank said. “His guts were lying out all over the table, and now he’s sitting up—?“
Doc Howard wiped his bloodied hands with his apron. “Just goes to show you, never underestimate the Irish!“
Hank cursed under his breath as he stomped off.
The
doc placed his hand on his patient’s shoulder. “But I must admit I’ve never seen anything like you, lad.“
The patient—Private Hector Sanchez—lay upon the saloon table propped up on one elbow. He absent-mindedly stroked the blood-stained bandages wrapped around his midsection with his free hand.
“Like the wounds was healing up faster than I could sow,“ the doc said.
“It ain’t natural.“ Hank stood beside Gertrude and Reverend Phillips at the piano, Lacey’s arms encircling his neck.
“Fucking right it ain’t natural.“ Robby joined at the others by the piano. “Goddamnest thing I ever did see.“
“Mr. Garrett,“ Captain Arrington said, his voice a knife’s edge. “If you have any modicum of influence over these men, I suggest you tell them to keep their opinions to themselves.“
“Hush,“ Garrett whispered through gritted teeth. Hank shot a bird at both men’s backs.
The bounty hunter lay propped up against the bar, his rifle held within the crook of an arm, Maxine at his side. He surveyed the captain.
“You still ain’t told us what you’re doing here—“
“You’ll address me as Captain,“ Arrington said without looking in the bounty hunter’s direction.
“Captain Arrington,“ the bounty hunter said. “Or what happened to you and your men. Or why you got them at the door and windows looking out at the night like Santa Anna himself going to come marching down Main Street any moment—?“
“I don’t have to explain myself to any murdering monkey-child like you.“
The bounty hunter rose to his full height.
“Yeah,“ Arrington said, finally turning to look the bounty hunter in his eye, “I seen your ilk before. Lincoln trains you niggers to shoot and now that the war’s over, you put a bullet in the back of the very white men who fought to free you. Tell me it ain’t true!“
The bounty hunter gently pushed Maxine away from him. He stood straight and moved his Henry rifle into one of his ham-sized fists. “Captain, apologize.“
“Men,“ the captain said. Muskets whirled to train themselves on the bounty hunter. Arrington looked to either side, smiling at the firepower he’d just called forth.
“You’re yellow!“ The bounty hunter spat in a gesture of disgust.
The captain motioned for two of his soldiers to approach the bounty hunter.
“Bravery is a notion for children and idiots, assassin.“
The two soldiers reached for the bounty hunter’s weapons. In the blink of an eye, the bounty hunter drew a revolver with his free hand.
“Ah, ah, ah!“
The bounty hunter looked to see the captain aiming his pistol directly at Maxine’s head. If Maxine’s eyes could’ve fired bullets, she would’ve killed Arrington where he stood.
“Any trouble out of you, assassin, and not only will you go down in a blaze of glory, but the whore, too. Let’s have them.“
Having little choice, the bounty hunter holstered his revolver and handed his rifle to one of the soldiers. He raised his hands above his head and the other soldier relieved him of his gun belt.
“That’s better.“ Arrington holstered his gun. He strode up to the bounty hunter, a jackal’s grin on his face. “Now, I believe it is you who owes me an apology, nigger.“
The captain punched the bounty hunter in his gut. The bounty hunter grunted, his knees bending for a second before he was able to upright himself.
“Well, hell’s bells!“ The captain snatched the bounty hunter’s rifle and slammed its stock into the black man’s stomach. This time the bounty hunter dropped to his knees. The two soldiers on either side of him took hold of his arms. Arrington brought the rifle-butt back up and across the black man’s sharp, whiskered chin. The bounty hunter turned his head with the blow, blood spewing from his mouth.
“A little more reasonable now, I suspect.“ The captain hunched over so that he looked the bounty hunter directly in the face. Arrington passed the bounty hunter’s rifle behind him, trusting one of his men to take it. “Now, how about that apology—?“
“Fuck you,“ the bounty hunter said.
“Fuck you!“ Pablo rocked on his haunches by the bar. “Fuck you! Fuck you!“
Arrington backhanded the bounty hunter. The impact of fist against jaw made a popping noise audible throughout the room.
“This ain’t right,“ Wilson whispered to Jimbo. “I know he’s just a colored, but this ain’t right.“
A few of the soldiers, their rifles sagging in their hands, traded questioning glances with one another.
“Last time I’m going to tell you, nigger: apologize!“ The captain didn’t wait for a reply. He struck the bounty hunter twice with his fists.
“God damn it!“ Maxine screamed as she charged toward them. “You leave him alone!“ A soldier grabbed her before she could reach the captain. Maxine squirmed and cursed, but failed to free herself from his grasp.
Captain Arrington drew his pistol and pointed it at the bounty hunter’s head.
“What say you, boy?“
“You leave him the fuck alone, Captain!“
All but the captain turned to see Private Sanchez off the saloon table and on his feet. He cradled his bandaged torso, favoring his right side.
Arrington called over his shoulder. “You are out of line, Priv—!“
“Oh, don’t hand me that horse shit!“ Sanchez said. “If anyone’s out of line here, it’s you—It’s all of us. Oh, God, forgive us.“
The captain spun on his heels to face Sanchez.
“That’s enough, Private. Stand down!“
“Fuck you, Captain! After what we seen, I ain’t scared of you, or any other man no more!
“Not after what happened back there—“ Sanchez’s words caught in his throat.
Arrington trained his pistol on the soldier.
“Shut your goddamn mouth, right now, Private.“ The captain cocked the hammer on his pistol.
“Fuck you!“ Pablo said, still rocking. “Fuck you!“
“The captain gave you an order, Private,“ Corporal Martinez said. He stepped between Sanchez and Arrington. “Stand down, Sanchez,“ Martinez whispered. “Haven’t we seen enough death?“
Sanchez turned his gaze to the corporal. His face went soft and pleading and he locked his left foreman over Martinez’s right.
“Oh, sweet Jesus, Julio, what are we going to do?“
“Oh, God. Those things! Did you fucking see what they did to the sarge? Oh, God! Oh, Jesus!“
“Shut him up, Corporal,“ Arrington commanded. “I want that man in ir—!“
A gust of frigid air blew through the saloon entrance, shoving the batwing doors inward and extinguishing the candles and oil lamps that had been supplying the room’s light. Several coyotes howled in the distance.
“It’s them!“ Sanchez shouted. “Oh, God! It’s them!“
Making use of the darkness, the bounty hunter acted. He ripped his arms free of the soldiers’ grasp. He kicked one of his would-be jailer’s legs while he clotheslined the other in the back of his knees. Both soldiers went tumbling to floor.
Two shots flashed and then shouts sliced through the darkness.
“Hold your fire! Hold your fire!“
“Nobody fucking move!“
“Fuck you! Fuck you!“
Arrington struck a match and all saw the bounty hunter’s huge, brown fist coming at him through the shadows. The sound of cracking bone echoed throughout the room as the punch connected. The captain was lifted into the air. He came crashing down on a table, knocking it over and finally landing among his men. Other matches took fire across the room. Within moments, the lamps along the walls were relit. Amazingly, no one had been shot.
Maxine wrenched herself free of her captor and bolted to her son. She enveloped Pablo in her arms and then scurried to the back of the room. Maxine crouched there and petted him, trying to calm him down.
The soldiers lifted their dazed and confused captain to his fee
t.
“Unhand me!“ Arrington commanded. The captain’s words were nasal and distorted thanks to the bounty hunter’s rearranging of the officer’s face. Arrington looked down and saw his pistol being lifted from his hand.
“I’m relieving you of your command, sir,“ Martinez said.
“The hell you are, Corporal! I’m in command, here!“ The captain writhed and struggled to free himself, but the soldiers held fast.
Martinze sneered. “We’ve all seen how you command—sir.“ Martinez took the bounty hunter’s Henry rifle from one of his men, turned, and held it out to its owner. “I believe this belongs to you,“ Martinez said.
The bounty hunter paused in the act of fastening his reclaimed gun belt, looked at his rifle, and then back up at Martinez.
“Much obliged.“ The bounty hunter nodded as he took his rifle.
Martinez nodded back and then gestured to the captain.
“Tie him up.“
“I’ll have you executed for treason, Corporal!“ Arrington said. He all but frothed at the mouth with rage. “They’ll line you up before a firing squad and—!“
The loud, violent sound of a dog barking outside echoed throughout the saloon.
“Oh, shit!“ one of the soldiers guarding the saloon doors said. His voice was full of desperation. “Something’s coming, Corporal! Oh, shit! Oh, shit!“
“Oh, shit! Oh, shit!“ Pablo mumbled. Maxine hugged him tighter, shushing him.
Private Sanchez cringed. Tears began to stream from his eyes his face contorted into a panicked grimace. “Not again. Dear God, not again!“
Martinez slapped him. “Get hold of yourself, Hector!“
Sanchez’s cries softened into whimpers.
Martinez marched to the saloon entrance and peeked outside. The dog that had occupied the saloon’s porch was on its feet. It barked incessantly at something unseen in the darkness. The horses outside whinnied and bucked, also insane with terror over something in the night. They struggled to free themselves from the hitching post. Most were successful. As though he knew any other action was futile, Martinez walked out and freed the few remaining stragglers. They galloped off, heading out of Perdition as fast as their legs would take them.