Under the Vultures Moon

by William Stafford

  Jed caught his breath.

  “Cowboys!” he whispered.

  “Bingo!” said Flint.

  ***

  Jed shoved his captive into the long, low bunkhouse. Moonlight was streaming in through the glassless windows. What he could see, added fuel to the bounty hunter’s fire. The place looked neat and tidy but unused.

  “Like it ain’t been used for a long, long while...” said Flint.

  “Shut up.”

  “Open your eyes, Jed, and your mind while you’re about it. Those boys don’t need beds, Jed. At night they go out to the lower fields, away from the moonflowers, and they graze their own grass. Think about it - there’s no evidence of livestock anywhere. Not so much as a cowpat. You know I’m right. These boys are ugly men by day and a load of old bullocks by night.”

  Jed shook his head. The bounty hunter was trying to bamboozle him, he was sure. Must be part of some elaborate plan to escape.

  “Still don’t make sense,” he said flatly. “If’n the moonflowers are keeping them from changing, what’s the harm? I ain’t here to judge folk’s lifestyles.”

  Flint laughed but it was a hollow laugh. “How you came to be where you are is beyond my reckoning! You’re not thinking, Jed. Look: there’s nine of them, right?”

  “Yep...”

  “And how many ladies are in there now, enjoying their hospitality?”

  “Well, one...”

  “Oh Jed; if I had a hand free I’d be knocking on that skull of yours to see if there’s anybody home. There’s nine! As far as these boys know anyway. They believe there’s nine womenfolk in there, just wandered onto their land like a gift of providence. They don’t want to hurt them, Jed - they want to mate with them.”

  “Nine brides for nine brothers...”

  “Now you’re getting it. Landsakes, Jed. Did you give your schoolteachers this much trouble?”

  “But they ain’t real women...”

  “Exactly... There’s going to be hell to pay as soon as those boys get their hands up them there skirts...”

  As if on cue, there was uproar and commotion from the homestead. Jed darted out into the yard. Miss Dupree was screaming. The men were pouring from the house, holding up their skirts. A couple of them had tears in their blouses and their bonnets were flapping around their necks.

  “Moonflower fields!” Jed barked. “Now!”

  Although puzzled, the men followed Jed’s instructions. They plunged among the plants. The silver heads were open wide, basking in moonlight.

  “Keep moving!” Jed advised. He drew his guns and approached the ranch house.

  Miss Dupree was still on the table, screaming, using her parasol to keep the woolly-headed brothers at bay. The cow-boys were hoofing the floor, like bulls about to charge. One scrambled up onto the table top and made to grab the showgirl from behind. Jed fired - his bullet went over Miss Dupree’s shoulder and into that of the assailant. The cow-boy crumpled and fell off the table.

  Angry eyes turned to the gunslinger. His intervention was a red rag.

  “Come on, Miss Dupree,” Jed held out his hand to help the showgirl step from the table. As soon as her foot touched the floor, he pulled her from the room and out into the night. The cow-boys followed, stampeding for the exit and getting in each other’s way. Jed fired a second shot. It struck the lintel above the door. The brothers flinched but the pause in their pursuit was only momentary.

  Jed swung his arm, flinging the showgirl among the moonflowers. She landed roughly on the ground but before she could complain, Jed pulled her to her feet and shoved her ahead of him, deeper into the field where the plants were taller than a man on stilts.

  “Jed! What’s happening? Who - What?”

  “Quiet! Just keep running.”

  Behind them, stalks rustled and moved as the brothers gave chase - it was easy to imagine their cries as snorting and mooing and their heavy footsteps as cloven hooves pounding the ground.

  Jed and the showgirl reached the edge of the field. Ahead was open pasture leading toward the fence - the fence they’d be able to get through now they no longer felt constrained by social niceties. Dark shapes were fleeing across the pasture like blackbirds disturbed from the bushes. A couple of the men in skirts made it as far as the fencepost. Others were not so lucky. Bulls charged them, running them down and trampling them. One man was gored through the belly and tossed over the fence. The bull ran headlong into the crossbars of the fence and rebounded off them; it sat on its hind quarters and shook its head, a little dazed,

  “Those men...” Miss Dupree breathed at Jed’s shoulder. “Animals!”

  Behind them, the brothers as yet unchanged were closing in.

  “We have to make a dash for it,” Jed urged. “Stay close to me and keep moving.”

  “No! It’s too dangerous.”

  “Listen, Miss; what these old boys have in mind for you is worse’n getting stampeded on.”

  Miss Dupree’s eyes and mouth grew round with horror.

  “That’s right,” said Jed. “Let’s go.”

  Hand in hand they tore across the pasture. Miss Dupree looked over her shoulder as they ran, and got a juddering view of their pursuers emerging from the moonflowers and immediately changing shape. They expanded from the shoulders, their arms lengthening and thickening, their hands splitting into hooves. Miss Dupree gasped. She wasn’t looking where she was going and stumbled, bringing the gunslinger down with her.

  The bulls circled, expelling hot air from their nostrils in angry snorts.

  Jed and the showgirl sat back to back. Jed aimed his revolver but he knew he didn’t have enough bullets for each of them.

  “End of the road, gunslinger,” a voice emanated from the nearest bull; Jed recognised it as Amos’s.

  “Get on with it then,” Jed sneered. “No need to milk it.”

  Miss Dupree gasped. She buried her face between the gunslinger’s shoulder blades and, sobbing, waited for the end.

  “It’ll be my pleasure,” said Amos. “Bringing those - those weirdoes into our home. Men dressed as ladies. Ain’t right nor natural.”

  “That’s bull,” said Jed. “Now are you going to charge us for your hospitality or what?”

  “You think you’re funny,” said Amos, but then his eyes began to flicker and roll. The other bulls too began to swoon and topple. A heady aroma filled the air, heralding the arrival of Jackson Flint from the moonflower field, brandishing a burning bunch of stalks and silver flowers. With the bulls all overcome, Flint tossed his makeshift torch over his shoulder. The flames devoured the plants with a ravenous hunger. The whole field went up and the smell of the moonflowers intensified. As Jed and Miss Dupree got to their feet they saw the fallen bulls had already turned back into burly farmers.

  “Where’s the beef?” smirked Flint. “Hoo-ee! Good job this ain’t my first rodeo.”

  He saw that the gunslinger was glaring at him.

  “What? Is there a smut on my nose? Oh, you want to know how I got free. I suppose I could tell you.”

  Jed growled.

  “You left me, Jed, in that bunkhouse when you went off to rescue the damsel in distress. Well, it turns out that was the right thing to do. When y’all came running out, I went into the house and found a knife to cut my rope. Now, I could have taken off but I couldn’t leave you to those monsters. It’s not in my nature - takes a pay packet to get me to kill folks. Now, I suggest we get a-moving. When these boys come to, they’ll be more concerned about saving their house - I set fire to that too, by the way.”

  “He might not thank you,” Miss Dupree jerked her thumb in the gunslinger’s direction, “but I surely do.”

  Jackson Flint doffed his hat.

  Jed grabbed him by the wrists.

  “Oh, Jed! I’m su
re that ain’t necessary,” Miss Dupree protested. “Mr Flint is our saviour. Let’s treat him with a modicum of respect.”

  “Well, now,” Flint smirked, “The songbird has changed her tune.”

  He offered his arm for Miss Dupree to link. They ambled towards the fence as though they were strolling in a park. Jed clapped a hand to his forehead.

  The feeling of being indebted to a snake like Flint disturbed him. But the law must be upheld and personal obligations set aside.

  He cast around the ground looking for men in skirts who were still alive.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Caught!

  Six of the men in skirts had survived. Five of them could walk unaided; they helped the sixth, whose legs were crushed, off the property.

  “They won’t follow us, will they, Jed?” Miss Dupree was looking back at the burning ranch, fields, homestead and all.

  “They put up this fence for a reason,” said Jed. “They was just trying to mind their own business and farm their own land and live as normal a life as they could. They won’t leave.”

  “What now?” said one of the men in skirts, although his had been torn off and he was standing there in his knee-length knickers.

  Once again, Jed found all eyes were looking to him for answers. He rubbed his scratchy chin. “Reckon we’re on foot,” he said. “Those of us who can manage it.”

  “We’ll send help,” said Flint. “Soon as we find it. We’ll send folks back with a wagon.”

  Jed looked daggers at the bounty hunter. Since when did he become a spokesman and a decision maker?

  Since he saved your sorry life, he told himself.

  Oh, yeah.

  Two men elected to stay with the wounded feller. They made him as comfortable as they could against a tree. Jed left them with a revolver.

  “Thought you said those bully boys wouldn’t come after us.”

  “Ain’t for them.” Jed took the volunteers aside and told them of the agonies untended broken bones can lead to. “There’s infections and what-not,” he said plainly. “Gangrene could set in. If’n it does...” He looked meaningfully at the revolver.

  The men blanched.

  Jed, Flint, Miss Dupree and three men in various stages of undress, set off into the darkness, keeping to the track and keeping their reflections on the experience unspoken.

  ***

  They trudged towards the sunrise. Band of red and yellow light revealed the lie of the land. The ground wasn’t too rocky or sandy and the valley was flanked on either side by tall cliffs fringed with chaparral. They stopped at a trickling brook, using the water to refresh themselves inside and out. Jed took off his neckerchief and doused it in the stream. He patted the back of his neck with it. A little upstream, the showgirl and the bounty hunter were splashing around and laughing like carefree children.

  “He a friend of yours now?” asked one of the men, soaking his feet.

  “Feller like him ain’t nobody’s friend but his own,” said Jed.

  “You still going to turn him in, ain’t ya?”

  “Yup.”

  The man dunked his bonnet in the brook and then put it back on, drenching his head with cold water. The others followed suit. They seemed to be in high spirits, too. Jed had seen this kind of euphoria afore. Folks survive some kind of disaster or escape some danger and they become exhilarated, giddy on relief and adrenalin and what-not. But for Jed there was no respite. He knew his task still lay ahead and it was like carrying a millstone in his guts.

  “What you thinking, gunslinger?” Flint appeared before him. Jed looked away.

  “Getting my bearings,” he said. “I reckon this valley will take us to the road to Tarnation. Or at least to another that will link us with that road.”

  “Far?”

  “Another day or so.”

  “Well,” the bounty hunter cast his twinkling eyes around him, “I’d best find me some rosebuds to gather while I may.”

  He skipped back to the showgirl. Danger’ll do that too, Jed reflected: fling folks together who used to be foes. A thought struck him. He strode over to the bounty hunter and grabbed him by the collar. He threw him to the ground and sat on his chest.

  “I see what you’re doing,” he scowled.

  “Why, Jed; I do believe you’re jealous.”

  “You’re still under contract,” Jed stared into Flint’s eyes. “You’ve taken on a job and you’re going to do it.”

  Flint’s moustached curled in tandem with his pouting lips.

  “I’m leading the girl into a false sense of security; is that what you mean? My dear fellow, I can assure you I am a changed man. And it’ll take more than moonflowers or a heap of cash to change me back. Now, kindly get off me; you’re making it difficult for me to breathe and furthermore you’re creasing my waistcoat.”

  Jed got up. The others had witnessed the outburst sure enough. He met none of their stares.

  “Let’s get going,” he barked. “Miss Dupree, I’d be obliged if’n you’d walk with me.”

  ***

  They reached the far end of the valley by mid-morning. The valley walls narrowed to meet them but the pass was clear and led them to open country. A road -and a well-used one at that - ran across their path.

  “Which way to Tarnation, Jed?”

  “West,” said Jed without hesitation. With the sun at their backs, they headed in that direction.

  “I’ve been doing me some thinking,” said Miss Dupree, linking Jed’s arm. “About Mister Flint...”

  Jed grunted. “Save your breath, Miss. He’s on his way to justice.”

  “But I don’t mind if’n you let him go. And if I don’t mind, why should anybody else? I was supposed to be his victim, weren’t I?”

  “You forget,” said Jed, pulling his arm free, “other folks’ve died. At his hand.”

  Miss Dupree harrumphed. She saw there was no use reasoning with the mule-headed gunslinger. She looked over her shoulder and made eye contact with the bounty hunter. He smiled and touched the brim of his hat in a salute.

  Dang! The showgirl fumed. Dang the law! Dang justice! And dang lawmen most of all!

  A mile along, the road passed through a copse of broad-leaved trees. Ideal spot for an ambush, Jed thought, but there was no way around it without going miles out of their way. There was nothing for it - they would have to go in.

  Jed led with his remaining revolver at the ready.

  The cool of the shade was welcome and the air smelled fresher but there was no time to stop and savour it. Jed wanted them to keep moving. True, out in the open they were still targets but here, hemmed in by trees, they could be surprised by bandits and outlaws at any second.

  “Stop right there and put your hands up!” an amplified voice boomed from up ahead. Jed came to an abrupt halt. Miss Dupree and the men banged into each other.

  “Back up,” Jed whispered over his shoulder. “Real slow... When I say, run for the trees...”

  “No point, gunslinger,” said Flint out loud. Jed wheeled around and saw the bounty hunter with his hands raised high and a sheepish expression.

  Behind him, and blocking out the light from the way they had come, was a group of men on horseback.

  “Howdy, Jed.” The voice ahead sounded closer. A man approached, also on horseback, the reins in one hand and a rifle in the other.

  “Sheriff Carriage,” muttered Jed.

  “What have we here?” Carriage inspected the rest of the party. “Deviants in dresses! Do you know, Jed, some outlaws will do anything to escape a hanging? And Landsakes! If it ain’t notorious bounty hunter and general bad egg, Jackson Flint!”

  The general bad egg spat on the ground.

  “And who’s this pretty thing, hiding herself with her umbrolly? Come on, da
rling; let’s be having a look at you.”

  Miss Dupree folded her parasol and looked the sheriff directly in the eye.

  “Hello, Daddy,” she said.

  ***

  Once dismounted, Sheriff Orson Carriage put his arm around Jed’s shoulder and drew him apart. The ginger mutton chops clashed with the ruddiness of his cheeks; the sheriff had rode hard to catch up with the gunslinger and his party.

  “Terrible business about that coach crashing like that,” Carriage pouted. “We followed your tracks to the ranch. Looks like you had a fortunate escape there too. From the fire, I mean. We come across some bulls running amok. We had to put them down. Owners must have perished.”

  Of course, Jed realised! With the moonflowers all burned away, there was nothing to stop the brothers changing and changing permanently. He pinched the bridge of his nose. Those poor fellers...

  “But I can handle things from here on in.” Carriage slapped the gunslinger’s back as if they were old chums enjoying their third round of drinks.

  “What do you mean by that?” Jed said flatly.

  “I’ll take these people in. No need for you to trouble yourself. You’ve done your bit.”

  “My bit?”

  “Catching yonder bounty hunter, for one. I know you ain’t in the business for rewards but I reckon some nearby orphanage or donkey sanctuary could be feeling the benefit of a cash pay-out. You just name the cause and I’ll see they get it. And those fellers, too. Trying to evade the law disguised as females. Human nature never fails to surprise me with each new depravity.”

  “Ain’t against the law to wear a dress,” Jed observed.

  “Not yet,” Carriage conceded. “But they’re outlaws, Jed. They’re going to pay the ultimate price for that shuttle crash. The rule of law must be seen to be enforced.”

  “And if they didn’t do it?”

  Carriage expelled brown juice from his chewing tobacco in an arc. “That ain’t none of your concern either.”

  “And your daughter?”

  The smile dropped from Carriage’s lips. “Family business. That is to say, ain’t none of yours.”