by Lee Lejeune
He cut back Smith’s pants so that the wound was revealed. Then he tied it up good and tight to stanch the bleeding. Smith groaned and passed out.
‘That was good shooting,’ a man said.
Sunshine shook his head. He felt sort of dazed and ready to fall. So he sat down on the sidewalk step and looked at the Peacemaker. Did I really shoot that man in the leg or was I dreaming? he wondered to himself. It was as though he had watched someone who wasn’t quite him firing the shot. He looked up and saw a well-dressed dandyish man with a well-groomed beard, wearing a tall black hat.
‘Was that your first time, young man?’ the stranger asked.
‘First time for what?’ Sunshine asked in a daze.
‘The first time you shot someone?’ the man asked with a benign smile. Sunshine shook his head.
‘Well, I don’t make a habit of it.’
‘Good at talking, too. That’s always useful in a man, especially out here in the wilderness where most men have only four words to their name.’
‘What would they be, sir?’
The man shrugged and smiled. ‘They would be “yes”, “no”, and “can’t remember”.’
The barber was still tending Slam Smith, who lay groaning on the sidewalk; the barber sure knew what he was doing. He had that leg bound up so professionally he might have been the doc himself.
‘Will he live?’ Sunshine asked. The man in the tall hat looked quizzical.
‘Oh, he’ll most probably live but he’ll be short of a leg for the rest of his life.’
He turned to address the small crowd that had gathered. ‘Will someone walk over to the saloon and order a stiff pull of whiskey for the wounded man. I can’t abide to see a man suffer like this.’
‘Yes, Mr Cutaway,’ someone said. The eyes under the tall black hat looked down at Sunshine.
‘I’m Jacob Cutaway,’ he said. ‘My friends call me Jed and everyone else calls me Mr Cutaway.’
‘I’m right glad to meet you, Mr Cutaway,’ Sunshine replied. Jacob Cutaway shook his head slowly.
‘You look sort of stressed out, young man,’ he said. ‘Why don’t you step across to the saloon and have a drink at my expense?’
‘Thank you, Mr Cutaway. I believe I will . . . no strings attached?’
The tall man laughed. ‘We don’t have strings here, Mr . . . what did you say your name was?’
‘Stubbs Shining,’ Sunshine said. ‘People call me Sunshine because I look a little young for my age.’
‘Well, I should say you acted like a man today,’ Jed Cutaway said.
They walked across Main Street and into the Big Nugget saloon, where everyone doffed his hat to Jed Cutaway and called him ‘sir’ or ‘Mr Cutaway’.
‘I want a big whiskey for this young man – and make it the best; I don’t want any of that hooch you serve up for most of your customers.’
The man behind the bar smiled ingratiatingly.
‘Of course, Mr Cutaway, only the best for you and your friends.’
Jed Cutaway nodded. ‘And serve up a good juicy steak for this young man, because he’s earned it.’
‘Very good, Mr Cutaway,’ the barman said, somewhat over-enthusiastically.
A sip or two of that good strong whiskey and Sunshine felt a deal better. When the steak arrived he thought it must be the juiciest in the world. Jed Cutaway sat across from him and nodded sagely.
‘Yes, you do look kind of young,’ he observed. ‘Where do you come from?’
‘Back East,’ Sunshine told him. ‘Missouri.’
‘Well, they obviously don’t have steaks like this in Missouri.’
Sunshine didn’t bother to contradict him; he was too busy chewing his steak and thinking.
‘I heard how you dunked Slam Smith in the water trough,’ Jed Cutaway said. ‘That was quite a feat considering he must be twice your weight.’
‘I was just lucky,’ Sunshine admitted modestly. ‘He more or less tipped himself over.’
Jed Cutaway stroked his beard thoughtfully. He obviously enjoyed preening himself.
‘Are you looking for work, young man?’ he asked. Sunshine shook his head.
‘Right now I’m helping out at a farmstead close by.’
Jed Cutaway narrowed his eyes. ‘Is that a fact. Is the pay good?’
Sunshine looked up and smiled. ‘I don’t know. I haven’t been paid yet.’
Jed Cutaway gave a benign chuckle.
‘I guess you must be working for that slightly whacky lady, Beth Bartok.’
‘I’m not too familiar with that word “whacky”,’ Sunshine said. ‘I would say she’s more gritty than whacky. She’s mired in a whole lot of difficulties at the moment and she’s fighting bravely to try to get out of that pile of horse shit.’
Jed Cutaway shook his head and grinned.
‘So the young man from the East rides in like a knight in shining armour to redress the balance,’ he said.
‘I haven’t read too many of the classics, so I can’t comment on that,’ Sunshine replied. He wondered whether he should finish his steak, then decided he probably should, so he stabbed a large chunk of meat, stuck it in his mouth and started chewing again. Jed Cutaway looked thoughtful.
‘She can’t win, you know,’ he said. ‘I’ve offered to help her out.’
‘You mean by sending your men to shoot out her windows?’ Sunshine said through his mouthful of steak. Jed Cutaway tilted his head to one side for a moment.
‘The difficulty is, things get a little out of hand from time to time.’
Sunshine took time to finish his steak; he then concentrated on the good rye whiskey. Jed Cutaway ran his hand lovingly through his beard again.
‘I guess it was you who shot up Brad Bassington and the boys the other day,’ he remarked.
Sunshine looked about for something to wipe his mouth on and a waiter rushed up to offer him a kerchief.
‘I wouldn’t say I shot them up. I just fired a couple of shots over their heads to discourage them,’ he corrected. Jed Cutaway gave a melodious chuckle.
‘Why did you do that, Mr Shining?’
Sunshine nodded in agreement with himself.
‘I guess I thought it was a little unfair, four gunmen gunning down on a little old lady and shooting out her windows like that. So I acted on the spur of the moment.’
Jed Cutaway was still chuckling.
‘That “little old lady” has a good line in buffalo guns,’ he said, ‘and she’s not so old, anyway.’
‘She cooks up a really good stew,’ Sunshine told him. He swigged back the last of the whiskey and placed his glass on the table. The waiter, standing at the ready by the bar, rushed up to replenish it but Sunshine covered it with his hand. The waiter backed away, bowing to Jed Cutaway who ignored him.
‘Listen, Mr Shining,’ Cutaway said to Sunshine, ‘I have a proposition to put on the table.’
Sunshine gave him one of his best smiles. ‘I’m listening with both ears, Mr Cutaway.’
‘If you come and work for me I’ll make it worth your while.’
‘In what way would that be, Mr Cutaway?’
Jed Cutaway took a moment or two to reply. Then he said:
‘Well, I’d pay you top dollar and give you a place to live; that means a lot in these parts.’
It sounded quite generous in the circumstances.
‘And what would I do?’ Sunshine asked him. ‘Like . . . shooting out the windows of old ladies?’
Jed Cutaway smiled. It was as though nothing threw him off balance.
‘That was a mistake and those boys will pay for it. In fact, Slam Smith already has. You’ve got more than an ounce of brain, Mr Shining, and a good tongue in your head. That’s what I like about you. You could have a great future before you, you know that?’ He sounded quite persuasive. Sunshine continued smiling.
‘That all seems generous, Mr Cutaway, and I’ll turn your offer over in my head.’
‘You do that, Mr Shining.’ Jed
Cutaway stretched out his hand towards Sunshine but Sunshine didn’t take it. He looked Jed Cutaway right in the eye.
‘I have two questions for you, Mr Cutaway.’
Jed Cutaway stared right back.
‘Well, questions need answers, so fire away, Mr Shining.’
Sunshine nodded but his eyes had narrowed.
‘The first question is, why do you want Bethany Bartok’s farm so badly? The second is this: where are those two moustachioed gents holding Bart Bartok?’
Jed Cutaway didn’t shift his gaze.
‘What do you mean: “holding Bart Bartok”?’
Sunshine saw immediately that Cutaway was either a very good actor or that he was genuinely surprised. So he took out his sketches of the two moustachioed gents and laid them on the table.
‘It seems that Bart Bartok, Bethany Bartok’s son, has been kidnapped. These two gents came to the farmstead yesterday and told Mrs Bartok they’d come on Bart’s behalf; they asked for one thousand dollars.’
Sunshine watched as Jed Cutaway took up the sketches and peered at them thoughtfully.
‘You know these two gents, Mr Cutaway?’ he asked. Jed Cutaway nodded slowly.
‘These are good likenesses,’ he said, ‘and I do know these two hombres.’ Sunshine gave an inward sigh of relief.
‘Well, these two hombre are holding Bart Bartok – or they’re working for someone who is. Either way, it doesn’t look good for Mrs Bartok and her son Bart. So I’m wondering what you can do to help me.’ He peered at Jed Cutaway so intently that Cutaway momentarily averted his gaze.
‘I’ll need to think on this, Mr Shining,’ he said after a moment.
‘I’m sure Mrs Bartok will be greatly obliged if you do.’
CHAPTER FIVE
It was well nigh sundown before Sunshine got back to the Bartok spread. Bethany Bartok was tending the stock and she shaded her eyes from the declining sun as he approached.
‘You’ve been an awful long time,’ she said. ‘I was beginning to think you’d jumped ship and ridden off some place else.’
‘I’ve been busy as a beaver,’ he replied, ‘but I haven’t been building a dam. I’ve been taking a haircut and talking to Jed Cutaway.’
Despite her fatalistic nature, Bethany Bartok raised her eyebrows in amazement.
‘You talked to Jed Cutaway?’
‘He bought me a huge steak dinner and a good measure of honest rye whiskey.’
‘Well, miracles do happen,’ she said, ‘though I’ve yet to see one myself. You’d better come inside and tell me the full story,’
I’ll just make sure Chingalong’s happy first,’ he said. ‘He’s had a busy day looking at the world and wondering why humankind acts so crazy. Isn’t that so, Chingalong?’
Chingalong didn’t bother to reply. He wasn’t crazy enough to drink whiskey but liked good oats and clear water, which were probably a whole lot better for him.
Bethany soon had the stewpot bubbling away; it smelled like heaven had come down to earth. Then she poured out a mug of her home brew and lit her stubby pipe.
‘Now,’ she said, ‘I don’t want no fairy tales. Just tell me the whole story and be damned.’
‘I can’t make any promises but I hope I won’t be damned any time soon. I’m not quite ready for it yet.’
Sunshine told her everything that had happened from the haircut to the shooting, then went on to tell of the feast with Jed Cutaway. She listened, nodding judiciously from time to time, her pipe clamped firmly between her teeth.
‘My my,’ she said, ‘so you shot that bully in the leg?’
‘ ’Fraid so,’ he said. ‘That Peacemaker sure made peace between us, but the guy was really pissed up so it doesn’t count for much.’
‘Well, I guess it counts with Jed Cutaway if he offered you a job.’ She narrowed her eyes. ‘Have you a mind to take him up on the offer?’
Sunshine smiled. ‘I told him I’d think on the matter.’
‘You better think carefully, or you might end up as a hired killer,’ she said.
‘I’d have to practise my shooting a whole lot more before that could be.’
Bethany wasn’t smiling; she was obviously somewhat disturbed by the idea.
‘So, you think Cutaway knows those two moustachioed gorillas?’ she said.
‘Well, he didn’t give me names, but I’m sure he knows who they are and who they operate for.’
‘You mean it isn’t him?’
‘My impression is he has no love for those two gun-toting gorillas, which, by the way, is a little insulting to our distant relations. Those gorillas might be working for him or they might not be. It’s difficult to say.’
Bethany nodded grimly. ‘I ought to tell you something: those two critters showed up again today.’
‘Is that so?’
She nodded. ‘They showed up shortly after you left this morning.’
Sunshine tilted his head to one side. ‘They probably waited for me to leave and then came down to put the frighteners on you. Which may mean that your son Bart is being held somewhere quite close to here.’
‘Well, I’m worried real sick about Bart.’ Her face looked quite grey and the worry lines seemed to have become more deeply ingrained.
‘Tell me what happened this morning,’ Sunshine said.
‘They just rode down as I was milking Jess,’ she said. ‘They sat their horses and grinned at me – they were all smiles and good manners, like before. “Good morning, Mrs Bartok,” the smaller one called out. “How you feeling today?”
‘I wasn’t about to tell him tell him I felt sick to my stomach, and I wasn’t gonna let them see I was worried to death about Bart, was I? Then he asked me if I’d considered their offer and whether I was ready to hand over the thousand dollars to them for Bart’s benefit. That’s the word they used: “benefit”. Then they showed me his watch again and the smaller guy said it was to prove they were genuine.’
Sunshine nodded. ‘Those two moustachioes are just about as genuine as two boa constrictors.’
‘Why do you keep blinding me with words?’ she asked him. ‘What in hell is a boa constrictor, anyway?’
‘A boa constrictor is a kind of snake, but it doesn’t have poisonous fangs like the rattler. It just coils round its victim and crushes it to death.’
‘Well, that just about describes those two moustachioed gents.’ She gave a mirthless grin. ‘The big question is: how am I gonna save my son Bart from their scaly coils?’
Sunshine creased his brows. ‘I’ve been thinking about that all the way back from town.’
‘Have you come up with an answer yet?’
Sunshine shook his head. ‘Not yet, but the faint outline of a thought has been forming in my mind.’
‘Well, I hope that thought will come up more clearly in time to save Bart,’ she said lugubriously. ‘Maybe you can tell me about it before it fades out altogether.’
They sat on either side of the stove.
‘The way I figure it,’ Sunshine said. ‘Those two scaramouches and Jed Cutaway want the same thing – and it isn’t money. Money’s part of it but they’ve got their eyes on something else: your land.’
Bethany Bartok ran her hand over the side of her face.
‘Why the hell should they want a small patch of dirt in the middle of nowhere?’ she asked. ‘It don’t make no kind of sense. Those Cutaway boys own the whole range for miles around here. Their daddy ran a big cattle ranch and they still own most of it. Why in hell’s name should they want to buy me out?’
Sunshine nodded. ‘That’s exactly what we have to find out, Mrs Bartok.’
Sunshine had never had worries to disturb his sleep, but on this night he did turn over once or twice. The second time he woke after a vivid dream. In the dream he was riding Chingalong and Chingalong spoke like Balaam’s ass.
‘You think you people are a whole lot more savvy than us,’ the horse said in a low horsey tone, and he was sort of grinning back at S
unshine.
Sunshine wanted to reply but he found he couldn’t find the words. He was sort of tongue-tied, which was unusual for him.
‘Don’t bother to say anything, Sunshine,’ Chingalong continued. ‘Just listen to what I say and benefit from my horse sense.’
Sunshine didn’t argue. Deep inside he knew he was dreaming but dreams can search very deep. Some of his best thoughts came in the night.
‘Just listen and I’ll tell you what to do,’ Chingalong continued. ‘Just give me my nose and I’ll take you where you want to go.’
Sunshine wanted to ask the horse how he knew where he wanted to go but at that point he woke with a start. What a damned fool dream! he thought and drifted off to sleep again.
When he got himself out of bed next morning Bethany Bartok was doing her morning chores as usual. So he went out, inhaled deeply, and dunked his head under the pump. When he came up again and looked around he saw Bethany walking towards him, carrying a pail of rich, creamy milk.
‘So you got your butt out of sleepyland,’ she sang out.
‘I sure did,’ he agreed. ‘That strange land has a lot of good ideas floating around in it.’
‘Like what?’ she asked. ‘Did you see any angels or demons up there?’
‘Nothing in particular,’ he said. ‘But I did see a talking horse by the name of Chingalong.’
She laughed. ‘Well you’d best come inside and tell me what he said while you still remember it, because in my experience dreams generally fade away like the morning mist.’
They went inside together and had breakfast. It was early for Sunshine but late for Bethany since she’d been up and about for over an hour.
‘You remember what Chingalong said?’ she asked him.
‘He said I should mount up and he’d take me some place where I would learn something important.’
‘D’you take notice of such foolishness?’ she asked him.
‘Well, I have a theory about that. That horse is a good buddy but he doesn’t say a lot, but when he speaks he likes me to take him seriously. So that’s what I must do. My theory is that when a horse or some other critter speaks it’s really something coming from deep inside your own mind and you have to listen.’