by Tony Masero
“Sure, I said I would.”
“Then where were you when that damned drunk went for me with a knife at Mama Barns?” Zack complained.
“We saw that Van Olen fella come in and thought it politic to take a back seat. Besides you did alright, didn’t you?”
“No thanks to you though.”
“There was no problem, if it had come to it, the cur would have received a bullet in the head but you did fine all on your lonesome and it impressed your buddy there too, didn’t it?”
Zack sighed, “I guess but I’m ready for my bed now. We’re to meet tomorrow and he takes me to his ranch.”
“Fine, we’ll be watching.”
There was a sudden scattering on the street and people parted as two men confronted each other in the light from hanging lanterns.
“It’s Curly Jim,” said Long. “What’s this about?”
“That’s the White Elephant saloon they’re standing in front of. That must be the same Luke Short he told us to beware of,” observed Zack.
“Well, I hope it ain’t,” said Long. “Short is fast. I heard of him when he was up in Tombstone and he don’t take no prisoners.”
“Looks like they’re having an altercation.”
The two men were obviously carrying on a bantering conversation and most of the street watchers had taken to peeking from behind some kind of cover in the street. Every alleyway and water barrel held a party of watchers keeping their heads down but their eyes open wide.
“I tell you, Jim. I ain’t carrying no gun,” they heard Luke Short call out loudly, mainly for the benefit of the onlookers, Zack guessed.
Luke Short was a dapper dresser and a dark haired good-looking man with a mustache cut wide to cover his upper lip and stretch across his cheeks. He stood tall and straight and was not about to back down that much was clear from the way he moved.
He strode towards Jim, closing the distance between them and spreading wide his jacket. “You see here?” he called.
“Oh no,” sighed Long. “Short always likes to work in close. I heard how he does it this way.”
The marshal shouted out, “Don’t you pull no gun on me!” and he drew his revolver. There was jerk as the hammer caught on his gold watch chain and in the vital second before he could free the weapon Luke Short drew a hidden revolver from behind his back.
He loosed off a quick shot and Zack gasped as there was a plume of smoke and a splash of blood in the lamplight and Jim’s thumb disappeared from his gun hand. Jim’s face twisted but he made no sound nor did not give up and he went to swap hands, trying desperately to get the revolver from one bloody hand to the other.
Luke Short did not hesitate though, with a grim expression on his face, he started firing as he moved in closer. One, two, three and four shots followed, the blasts of smoke and flame bright in the dark street. The last shot was fired so close that Jim’s vest caught fire and started to smolder.
Jim swayed on his feet, he staggered and one leg gave way under him and he keeled over to lie still in the street.
Luke Short dropped the smoking pistol down by his side and turned and walked up the steps and into the saloon without a second glance at the body in the street.
Long released a pent up breath and sucked at his teeth with a soft click. “There goes Curly Jim,” he said. “Rest in peace, old boy.” He looked up at the depiction of a white elephant on the sign hanging over the saloon doors. “That what a white elephant looks like?” he asked Zack.
“It is.”
“Well, I guess poor Jim just took something on board he couldn’t sell either,” observed Long ruefully.
Chapter Eight
Zack hired himself a pony from the livery stable and James rode in the same buggy he had come into town with. He had not come alone it seemed as there were three men that accompanied him. They were dour looking fellows who said little and wore mean and watchful expressions on their faces the whole journey out to James’ ranch. Zack had an uncomfortable feeling about them as he rode alongside the buggy and he kept looking self-consciously over his shoulder at the following trio.
“Don’t mind them,” said James. “They’re just there for my welfare. A man needs a little protection down here with so many roustabouts on the loose.”
“They’re certainly some kind of rough looking fellows alright.”
“The Solo brothers. The two lookalikes, Ben and Travis are twins. The older one, Ahab Solo, is their half-brother and the leader. They know their business though, anyone comes near me and they’ll cut them down pronto. Most of the time they keep pretty much to themselves and do as I tell them. They work out fine.”
Ahead they saw the wooden gateway to the ranch property coming into view. Above the gate a large circular iron wagon tire had been mounted and welded inside it was a large letter ‘v’ running from top to bottom.
“Welcome to the Circle V,” James introduced.
On each side of the gate, barbed wire fencing stretched away in either direction and disappeared into the rolling hills. They rode under the sign and on along a well-trodden and wide dirt track, the road undulating as they moved over the softly curving dry hills. They crested a rise and Zack asked, “Is that a lake I see down there?”
“Sure is,” said James. “I had the water diverted from Dead River, even had some aqueducts built to bring it here. See the island in the middle? That’s the main house. Had it all built before we flooded the area.”
On the crest of a rising mound at center of the large false lake stood a spreading collection of buildings in white their tiled roofs a shade of bright orange in the rising sunlight.
“Heavens! James, it sure looks big enough.”
“Be it ever so humble….” James quipped.
Zack could see cattle wandering across the further slopes beyond the lake and coming down to the water’s edge to drink. “How many head?” he asked.
“About ten thousand at the moment but I expect to increase that pretty soon.”
They rode down to a wooden dock mounted beside an assembly of stables and barns that stood at the lakeside and dismounted.
“You boys take care of the horses and the buggy,” James ordered the Solo brothers and they promptly obeyed without a word.
“You want us over at the house?” Ahab Solo asked as he mounted the buggy’s riser. He was a lean unshaven man with gaunt withdrawn features under a wide brimmed black hat. His hair was long and greasy-looking and it ran down over the nape of his neck.
“I want you to stay over here keeping an eye on things,” James said dismissively. He seemed to have little rapport with the men and treated them as house servants more than hired guns. “Come on, Zack. Now we take a boat ride.”
A Mexican peon sculled them over in a broad bottomed rowboat with the Circle V crest painted on the bow. The water was flat and perfectly still with hardly a ripple and reflected the blue sky above like a mirror. There was very little vegetation along either shoreline but Zack could see the beginnings of green moss and some foliage beneath the wooden supports of the dock and from that he deduced the place had not been built that long before. Once at the other side, James led the way up a climbing stone path to the outer walls of a fortress style surround to the ranch house buildings. They entered the walls through a wide arched doorway and Zack could see armed men in the shadows watching them as they walked through.
“Looks like you have an army here, James?”
“A few men, just for protection. Mostly vaqueros I’ve brought in from Mexico. But come on there’s someone I want you to meet.”
Zack followed up a series of roughly hewn broad stone steps to a Mexican style hacienda set on the high point of the island. It was a rambling building with shuttered windows and a tiled entrance patio surrounded by potted plants. The air inside was cool and fresh and Zack could see a terrace with long drapes moving gently in the sway of heat from outside,
A woman in a plain brown dress and apron stood waiting with bowed head to greet
them in the hallway through the open main doors.
“I think you two will remember each other,” smiled James.
The woman slowly raised her eyes and looked shyly at Zack.
“Mary!” he gasped, recognizing her instantly. “My God!”
“How are you Zack?” she asked softly.
“Why…. What….” Zack was speechless and he fumbled for words, his gaze going from Mary to James and back again. “I…. I searched so long for you after the war but I could not find a trace of you. How…” he faltered unable to go on.
“I guess my resources were a little better,” James supplied. “Mary was in a bad way after the war. But I had a detective agency search her out and find her, isn’t that true, my dear?”
Mary nodded, her gaze fixed on Zack.
“It’s good to see you again,” she said.
Zack started forward, his arms outstretched.
“Mary is my housekeeper now,” said James quickly. “She virtually runs the place for me, don’t you, dear?”
There was something in the tone that halted Zack in his tracks, some hint of warning perhaps. Zack could not quite get the hang of it but detected a hint of ownership there and he let his hands drop back to his sides.
Mary had not moved since they had come in, she still stood with her hands folded passively before her.
“James has been very kind to me,” she explained. “I was in a bad place until he came along.”
“Ach!” spat James dismissively. “A small thing. You were so good to me in that awful marsh, it was the least I could do.”
“I think you saved my life,” she said in explanation.
“Well,” said James cheerfully. “No more of that. Here we are friends together and reunited again. We must celebrate. I shall show Zack the estate and tonight I’m sure Mary will have arranged a splendid meal. There are a few guests arriving, some business acquaintances, but that will not interfere with our enjoyment.”
He looked at them both proudly; a beaming smile on his face then clapped his hands together. “Why don’t you two get reacquainted whilst I wash up and change, after being in Fort Worth I always feel a mite grubby.”
They barely noticed his departure; the two were so astonished to meet again.
“How are you, Zack?” she asked again.
“I am well but so dumbstruck to see you again. I thought I never would.”
She led the way through to the cool terraced room where the long drapes kept the heat at bay and Zack noticed another patio garden outside where more potted flowers bloomed in a variety of bright colors and bougainvillea climbed the walls.
“James had everything newly imported,” she explained as she saw Zack’s glance. “There are hundred year old olive trees out there that he had transported from across the border. He wanted everything to appear as if it had been here for an age when he had the place built.”
“It looks very beautiful,” he said, unable to take his eyes from her and not meaning the garden at all. She had aged little but had filled out from the starving girl he had met in the marsh. Her hair was set and gleamed in the sun-cast beams of light falling past the curtains, small earrings glittered at her ears and her voice was as soft as he remembered. “You have not changed,” he managed.
She smiled. “Oh, I doubt that,” she said. “But you, you look so prosperous. Things must have gone well for you.”
“Very well,” he said. “But where did you go to? What happened after the war?”
She sighed and drew herself up. “It was not good. I could not get the brutal loss of little Prudence out of my mind. It haunted me and left me feeling so empty and alone.”
Zack started forward his arms outstretched in sympathy but she raised a hand to stop him. “No, let me finish, Zack. You should know these things. I went downhill fast afterward. I was in a lost place and my mind was blank and I felt as if I did not matter anymore. I did not care what happened to me. First it was laudanum and then alcohol that became my supports.”
“Damn it!” growled Zack in disappointment. “If only I had known. If only I could have found you.”
“The country was in turmoil, Zack. Everybody was at a loss and thrown apart. It is understandable.”
“But to think of you suffering so,” He looked down at his feet in dismay.
“Like so many others, I sold myself,” she confessed. “I became a nighttime comfort girl.”
Zack winced at the words as if he had been struck. “Oh, Mary,” he whispered.
“It was the only way I could survive,” she went on, her face pale and her fingers twisting together nervously. “Why I chose to go on living I don’t know, it was in my mind often enough to do away with myself. But I would think of you sometimes and the knowledge that there was someone out there somewhere that cared saved me each time. And then James found me, he had men come and fetch me. At first I did not want to go I was so full of shame but he encouraged me. He has been so kind, Zack. I owe him everything. That someone so highly placed could condescend to take a wretched penniless wanton into his home with such kindness was truly a miracle.”
It bruised Zack’s sensibilities to hear such a tale but he suppressed the feeling and moved across to her and took her unresisting fingers in his hand.
“Why,” he said. “You are cold.”
“Seeing you again,” she murmured. “Will bring warmth into them.”
He lent forward to kiss her but she averted her head. “No, we cannot,” she said hurriedly. “I must away, I have duties to attend to.”
“But…” he muttered, surprised by her reaction.
“Do you have a wife now?” she asked, her eyes fixing him in a hard stare.
“No, no,” he said quickly. “I am engaged to be married but no more than that.”
She nodded. “Then you have given your word,” she said decisively. “Who is she?”
“A Boston heiress but….”
“A Boston heiress,” Mary laughed, the sound a little harsh. “I would expect no less of you, Zack. Is she a rare beauty too?” There was a touch of spite in her question and he thought that perhaps she was slightly jealous, at least he hoped so.
“She is,” he admitted.
“Well,” she sighed, releasing her fingers from his grip. “I must go about my duties. We shall see each other again.”
As he watched her depart, Zack felt a confusing mixture of emotions. To find her again was certainly a surprising pleasure and yet she was right to mention his promise to Isabel, he found it hard to realign the anomalies in his heart. Both, of the love he had all but thought forgotten and the bright promise of his Boston sweetheart with all its prospects.
Deep in thought he turned away to stare out at the sunlight streaming onto the empty patio outside.
“You are ready?” It was James, freshly shaved and dressed in riding clothes like a country gentleman on some east coast estate.
Zack followed him outside and they patrolled the ranch house and its environs as James proudly displayed the extensive wonders of his sprawling, castle-like village that seemed eminently defensible and self-sufficient.
“How was it?” he asked finally, as they stood on a high promontory at the end of their tour. They had climbed the walls and looked out across the lake, where Zack could see the rowboat traveling backwards and forwards busily across the water.
“Meeting Mary again?” he asked.
“Of course,” said James, with a slyly curious look in his eye.
“Truly amazing,” Zack managed. “I must thank you, James. For finding her out and saving her from such a desperate state.”
“She is mine now, you realize?” he said in a low voice.
“Yours?” Zack was bemused.
“Yes, I possess her.” He said it in a flat, even voice, his gaze far out over the water.
“Possess her? What do you mean?”
“I mean, she is mine. I have kept her for myself and she comes to me willingly, Zack.”
Zack
frowned in consternation. “You are intending to marry?”
“Lord, no!” James snorted. “That could never be, seeing her origins. A woman cast-out from her family for cause of an illegitimate child and then succumbed to whoredom. Society would never accept that she could be a wife of mine.”
“But you do love her?”
James faltered, for once unsure of himself. “I don’t know,” he frowned and bit his lip. “I must admit to never quite understanding the emotion. I think I do but I don’t really know. Can you understand that?”
“I’m not really sure that I can. You either love or you don’t….”
“I care for her,” James cut in quickly. “Assuredly, I do that. Perhaps that is what is meant by love, do you think so?”
It was then that Zack began to fully understand the underdevelopment of James’ character, some part of him was missing and in an almost naive and childlike manner he was trying to discover from Zack the true meaning of the way he should be feeling. For Zack it was becoming clear that James’ wealthy and privileged background had been sadly lacking in affection and in an environment where possession was everything he had confused the two desires, ownership and passion becoming confused with one replacing the other.
“I don’t think,” he admitted. “I could hold her in such a way. Not as a kept woman.”
“But many men have mistresses,” James complained belligerently. “They have a wife for society’s sake and another for more practical purposes.”
“It is true,” Zack agreed. “That is the way for many men of social standing these days. Personally though I cannot think that any good will come from such arrangements.”
“Why on earth not? It works, doesn’t it?”
Zack lowered his head thoughtfully. He wondered how he could explain a union based on friendship, respect and mutual affection to a man who saw only the prospect of a usable object in a hollow situation that was barely above a state reminiscent of slavery. He felt a great pity for Mary that she should end up in such a dilemma. Her obvious lack of self-worth and sense of owed repayment for James’ charity had taken her from a bordello to his bed in a misconceived desire to make compensation. In truth, Zack saw little to choose between the two situations.