How the West Was Weird, Vol. 2

by Barry Reese

  When a man talks like that, the humane thing to do is club him over the head and drag him home. Usually that kind of talk comes from someone hunting for answers in the bottom of a whiskey bottle or in a pipe full of opium. Spooky Indians, miracle potions, and talking to the dead. What the hell did I get myself into when I promised him a couple days to sort this out? I wanted to shake the ever-lovin’ shit out of him, but I held my tongue as best I could.

  “I’m just a dumb ol’ soldier with no war left to fight. I get that. And there’s probably more going on in this big crazy world than I’ll ever know. My gut tells me there’s a bunch of Sioux hiding in the trees up there having a laugh at your expense right now, but I gave you my word and that’s the only thing I have left worth a damn.”

  “I appreciate that, Raney. It means a lot to me because I’ve got nothing left, brother. I’m glad you’re going to help out even if you don’t believe me,” he said, putting his hand on my shoulder. “C’mon, help me cut this fucker’s head off.”

  That’s how I ended up at the crossroads with a severed head twisting in the wind. Adam had rigged up a sling of sorts with the dusty rope from the noose so we didn’t have to touch the damned thing. Lame Johnny wasn’t much to look at before his untimely demise; after his recent dirt nap he was looking rather vile.

  Johnny had been in the ground for a month or more, and the decay had started to set in. A colony of bloated gray worms slithered around in his gaping mouth. His eyes were a milky white with a starburst of reddish-brown wisps reaching out from the center. The sight of such a thing, much less the smell, would unnerve most men. Being unperturbed by such things was a result of our time in the war where we were both exposed to far worse sights on a regular basis. After you’ve watched young men come back from the battlefield with their intestines leaking out of their bellies, a rotting head was really nothing.

  I tipped my hat back and stared up at the full moon surrounded by thousands of little dots of light. Had we both lost our minds? It was hard to decide if this was ghoulish or just foolish. Looking at that clear sky helped ground me and almost let me forget I was holding a fistful of rope attached to a dead man’s upper story.

  “Raney? You lookin’ for shooting stars or what?”

  I squatted down next to Adam. “Sorry, what’d you say?”

  “I said hold that ugly bastard still. We only get one shot at this.”

  Adam held the stoppered bottle up and swirled it around, trying to look at the contents inside. He shrugged his shoulders, bit down on the cork, and wiggled his jaw. The cork squeaked out, releasing a rancid smell like old piss and ball sweat. He spit out the cork and covered his mouth to avoid bringing his dinner back up for a visit.

  “Good thing he’s dead,” I grinned. “No man alive would take a pull on that swill.”

  Adam tried to chuckle, but didn’t trust his stomach enough to open his mouth. It came out more as a sickly snort. He motioned for me to hold the head out over the center of the crossroads, so I stuck my arm straight out and offered him a nod of encouragement. He gripped Lame Johnny’s jaw and tipped the pungent elixir into his mouth.

  “I, Adam Logue, do call upon the spirit of Lame Johnny, hanged before his time. Return to this earthly vessel and grant me a boon. I would ask you to show us the way to where you hid the rest of the gold from the Monitor stage-coach.”

  “Which dime novel did you get that bunch of horseshit out of?”

  “Hush!”

  “I’m just saying, as far as magic words go, those are just a hair shy of fuckin’ terrible.”

  I was about to chide him some more when I noticed something that caught me off guard. I could see my breath. I exhaled hard and a cloud of white mist rolled off my lips. “What the...”

  “Oh-shit-oh-shit-oh-shit!” Adam screamed, scrambling backwards in the dirt as fast as he could.

  Everything went completely silent after that. No birds, no crickets, no nothing. The only sound was my heartbeat pounding in my ears. I swallowed hard and forced myself to look down at the head. The dead eyes burned with a spec-tral green light. I wanted to drop the rope, hop on my horse, and ride towards dawn as fast as I could, but I couldn’t move. The freezing air turned my breath into a glistening swirl of tiny snowflakes.

  “Adam,” I breathed. “I need you to come over here and take this thing.”

  He nodded his head, but he didn’t move for a good minute or two. Finally, he crept back into the crossroads and cautiously held out his hand. I gently hung the rope across his open palm and rolled his fingers back up around it. Once I was sure the head was secure, I slid a hand down the front of my britches to make sure I hadn’t pissed myself. Thankfully, I hadn’t, but I was overwhelmed with the need to relieve myself.

  “It’s your show, friend. What now?”

  It took a while to sort it all out, but best we could figure the thing worked like a compass. Instead of pointing north, it pointed towards the gold. And by pointed, I suppose I mean the eyes shined the brightest. If you turned the head roughly towards the northwest into the Black Hills, the eyes shone brightly with their unnatural green flames. If you turned it the other way, the fire went out. Personally, I’d rather have had a map with an X drawn on it. More efficient and a lot less fucking creepy.

  We were four days into the Hills and my patience was waning. Magic skull lantern or not, we still hadn’t found shit and my gut was telling me we were being watched the whole time. Adam was completely oblivious to this, putting his blinders on so he could spend his time daydreaming about spending all that gold. The untrained eye might mark him as determined, spirited even. I knew the truth. He had the fever and the beast called greed was growing inside him.

  “Humor me for a bit, Adam. Let’s say we do find the gold.”

  “We will.”

  “Sure. We find the gold. Then what?”

  “We take the ingots back to Des Moines, maybe melt them down into smaller pieces so they’re easier to move, and trade them for cash. Are you worried you won’t get your share?”

  “I’m worried about getting you back home in one piece so Lily doesn’t tan my hide. Didn’t even know I was getting a share.”

  “Hadn’t thought that far ahead yet,” Adam said, chec-king the head to make sure we were still going the right direction. “Fifteen percent sound about right? I’ve really done all the work. Could’ve done this all by myself if you hadn’t caught up with me, but I appreciate the company.”

  “And me not pistol-whipping you in that grave, hogtying you over the back of your horse, and dragging your ass back to Des Moines as fast as I could?”

  “Yup, that too...”

  Fifteen percent sounded fine with me. Fifteen hundred dollars would keep a man in whiskey and whores for quite a while. Besides, I started out on this trip as a favor for an old friend, not to make money. Guess I’m just lucky like that.

  I was so busy patting myself on the back that I almost ran my horse into Adam’s. He’d pulled up to a sudden stop and gestured for me to do the same.

  “Did you hear that?” he whispered.

  “Hear what?”

  TWHIP! An arrow planted itself in my saddle just behind my leg. We both looked down at it and then at each other. Shit. Sioux.

  I snapped my reins and sharply squeezed my horse with my boots. I’d known someone had been watching us. It wasn’t just my imagination getting the best of me. We charged ahead, like Old Scratch himself was on our tail, trying to put as many trees as possible between us and our pursuers.

  Adam led us over a rocky incline that gave way to a grassy meadow with a small lake on the other side – and five more Sioux watering their horses. We veered north-ward towards the far tree line. They quickly mounted their horses and joined the chase. There was a distinct chance that it could come down to us holing up in some high ground and shooting it out with them. The problem was they knew the area a hell of a lot better than we ever would. I looked over at Adam to see how his horse was holding up and the cra
zy bastard was checking Lame Johnny’s head again.

  “Looks like we’re actually still on course. More or less.”

  “Why don’t you ask him if he knows how two idiots can escape a Sioux hunting party? Or see if he’s got a Gatling gun stashed away in there.”

  No reply. I don’t know if he was purposely ignoring me or couldn’t hear me over all the excitement. As we neared the trees, I could make out at least three more Indians back amongst the trees. This was starting to feel like a setup.

  “Left! Left!”

  We followed along the tree line until we were on the other side of the lake. I hazarded a look over my shoulder and counted at least eight riders behind us. They were closing fast and we needed to get back in the trees. It’d be slower going, but there were fewer opportunities to take an arrow in the ass.

  Adam galloped into the cover of the forest and I followed as closely as I dared. He was still watching that stupid head and I just knew he was going to snag himself on a tree branch.

  “It’s getting brighter!” he called back to me.

  “Glad something’s getting brighter. Sure ain’t you,” I muttered. “What’s getting brighter?”

  “The eyes!” He held up the head, turning it towards me. I’ll be damned. The green flames were as bright and intense as I’d ever seen them. Even in the afternoon sun they were burning brightly. Adam smiled like a lunatic. “There! It has to be in there!”

  I followed his gaze down into a box canyon about fifty feet in front of us.

  “I don’t know what kind of gunfights you’ve been in, Adam, but traditionally we like to head to the high ground.”

  As he started navigating his horse down a narrow path into the canyon, I made up my mind. If we got out of there alive, I might just have to kill him. I could hear the thunder of hooves behind us. I shook my head and nudged my horse down onto the path. Maybe we’d luck out and the greenery growing out of the side walls would hide us.

  We reached the bottom of the canyon faster than I thought. I shielded my eyes and squinted up at the top of the canyon. The edge was dotted with at least a dozen silhouettes. They hooted and hollered in their native tongue while shaking their bows at us. That was different.

  “Adam... why aren’t they shooting?”

  No reply. I looked behind me. Adam’s horse was there, but he was gone. I could see him making his way across the canyon floor, heading towards the outcropping on the far side. He still had the head held out in front of him like a railroad engineer’s lantern.

  Back up at the top of the canyon, the Sioux were still watching... waiting. Something didn’t feel right. They didn’t just chase us. It was more like... herding; like they wanted us to find this place. And now they had the only escape route blocked, chanting the same thing over and over again. It sounded like Sass-cotch, Sass-cotch, Sass-cotch.

  “Adam, you asshole! Hold up! I think we’re in deep shit.”

  I grabbed my Winchester out of the scabbard and swung down off of the horse. I rooted around in a tattered saddle bag for extra ammo. If there was ever anything I did that was remotely considered smart, it was buying a revolver that used the same .44-40 cartridges as my rifle. A quick pat down confirmed that everything else was in the proper place, my Colt on my right hip, my hunting knife tightly secured on the left and a handful of matches wedged in the band around my hat. I was as ready as I was going to be.

  I took two steps toward the cave and went right back to the horse. I fished out a stick of dynamite and tucked it in my belt loop behind my back. You never know when you might need to make a way out.

  Adam had already disappeared into a tall narrow open-ing in the canyon wall. I followed the well-trodden path to the cave, doing my best to watch my own back. I didn’t get the feeling that the Sioux were going to pursue us any farther, but I also didn’t think I’d find myself following a dead man’s head into the Black Hills hunting for treasure. My left boot caught on something as I turned back towards the cave and I took a hard tumble to the ground. I grabbed my rifle out of the weeds and sprung back up. Nothing was injured except my pride. I’d stepped in a shallow hole and...

  Something wasn’t right. What I’d stepped in wasn’t a hole at all. It looked more like someone’s bare foot, toes and all. I stuck my boot in the middle of it. The impression was well over a foot long. Maybe a foot and a half. Who in the hell leaves a footprint that damn big? It didn’t look like bear tracks. It wasn’t just a lone print either. There were several leading in and out of the cave. I took a deep breath and stepped into the darkness.

  It took some time, but my eyes finally adjusted to the lack of light. It wasn’t pitch black like I expected. A dim light at the end the crescent-shaped chamber told me there must be small tunnels going up to the surface somewhere farther in. I cautiously crunched through the loose gravel, listening hard for any clues to Adam’s whereabouts. I couldn’t hear him, but I sure could smell something.

  The stench lingering in that cave was obscene. My stomach lurched as I pulled my bandana up over my nose. It smelled like the bottom of the biggest shithouse in the Dakota Territory. The cooler air wasn’t helping any either. I’d broken out in a cold sweat and I felt like I had to piss. I wrote it off as nerves and wiped my forehead clean with the back of my hand.

  The crescent ended in a short passage that opened up into a much larger room. A flash of green light passed over the ceiling. I carefully pulled myself up the incline using the stones that jutted out of the floor as a natural ladder. I could hear Adam’s mumbles echoing around the main chamber over the sound of my heart pounding in my ears. When I reached the top, I took a moment to catch my breath and survey the area.

  Three shafts of daylight poured into the chamber from above, creating a ring of shimmering light around a makeshift nest in the center of the room. The bedding was a combination of grass, straw, and bits of fabric held together with mud. Dozens of bones were strewn about the area. My first thought was bear’s den, but this almost looked... ordered. Besides, when a bear does pick a den, they like something tight and cozy to curl up in. This was quite the opposite.

  I swore under my breath. A big ol’ bear in a little cramped space would be dangerous enough, but this was something else entirely. I don’t like surprises, especially ones with sharp teeth. The longer I sat there doing nothing, the worse my odds were going to get that something would come wandering in from one of the side tunnels or behind me. Whatever was holed up here didn’t seem to be home, but it could return at any time. All that noise the Sioux were making outside wasn’t helping either.

  By now the smell in the cave was almost overpowering, rendering my bandana useless. I tried not to gag when I called out softly to Adam.

  “Adam. Adam. Answer me.”

  Green light danced across the rear wall. I gingerly walked a wide circle around the nest in the middle of the room, cringing at every loose rock I kicked. Adam was kneeling down in an alcove, the severed head still held high in his left hand. I had successfully made my way over there and could hear him muttering to himself with a great intensity. He turned the head and its glowing green eyes towards me as I stepped into the alcove and a cold chill ran down my spine.

  “Adam,” I hissed. “We need to get the hell out of here before whatever lives here gets back!”

  I took a step closer and put my hand on his shoulder. He jumped up and nearly fell over himself. I grabbed his arm to steady him. He was cold and slick with sweat. His eyes were unfocused, like someone whacked out on peyote. I pushed him aside to see what was so damn interesting back there.

  “Sonovabitch...”

  An old cart had been pushed into the recess. Two large gold ingots and several bags lay amongst a pile of random junk including a rusty knife, a cooking pot, a small shovel, a beaded necklace, and an assortment of buttons. Someone was quite the collector. I turned to say something to Adam and something moved in the tunnel off to my left.

  An angry roar shook the cavern. I nearly dropped my rifl
e. A mass of black burst out of the tunnel and bared its teeth. The creature was at least nine feet tall and twice as broad as a man. From a distance, you might have mistaken it for a bear, but it was more like one of the apes I’d seen drawings of in books. It had long arms and legs like a man, but it was covered in matted fur from head to toe. The beast’s face was an abomination. Its nose was wide, flat, and pulled up into a snarl. Two large teeth jutted out from its protruding lower jaw.

  “Time to go, Adam,” I declared, grabbing his arm and dragging him away from the alcove.

  Adam wriggled free of my grasp and ran back to the gold. The creature roared furiously at him, but he ignored it. He only had eyes for the gold. As the beast stomped towards him, I fired off two shots in rapid succession with my rifle. The thing didn’t even flinch.

  “Adam! Run, you idiot!”

  Adam swung the severed head back and forth like he was swatting away a swarm of gnats. The beast caught it in one hairy hand and grunted savagely.

  “Raney! Raney! Get this thing off of me,” Adam screamed, suddenly wide awake.

  Lame Johnny’s head went flying across the room and smashed into the opposite wall. An explosion of gore showered the area with luminescent green ichor. Adam’s right arm soon followed a similar path through the air. His cries of agony echoed around the chamber.

  I rolled left and fired off another flurry of shots into the creature, but it was still occupied with Adam. It dragged him out of the alcove by his legs while his remaining arm flailed around searching for something to grab onto. I took aim and sent three shots into the beast’s chest. I hit him square and it finally looked my way, grunting at me as if to say, “You’re next, friend,” and hauling Adam in closer. It seized his legs between both hands like a club and smashed his limp body into the wall repeatedly until only a mangled bloody mess remained.

  The beast flung what was left of Adam aside and turned to face me. Its nostrils flared and I swear the loathsome creature grinned at me. I worked the lever feverishly, chambering and firing rounds as fast as I could. Every step forward was answered with gunfire. Step. Boom. Step. Boom. Step. Boom. I pumped every last shot into the aber-ration, slowing it down, but never stopping it. When my rifle clicked empty, I threw it and pulled my Colt Frontier Six Shooter. I figured I had five shots left and the last one for myself.