by Danny Hogan
‘I’m sure. There was another person too you know –Tyrone – and he meant no one no harm at all.’
‘I am so, so sorry,’ he bawled, with a face like a slapped fish.
‘Why did you send for Elliot?’
‘What? Well, he’s just someone I call on to remove riff-raff. High quality riff-raff, that is. Him and his boys keep the peace around here.’
‘Yeah, some peace. Anyways, you said you don’t have money? What’s that there then?’
‘It’s about four thousand in gold. Look, take three thousand but leave me a thousand to pay my staff with will you? Have a heart.’
‘You know what?’ I said, walking around him but keeping the gun trained on his head. I found a canvas sack on the floor, picked it up and brought it to the table. ‘If your staff were good, honest, hard working folk I would definitely leave ’em some. In fact, I would personally go up there and give them the majority of this here gold.’ I started to sweep armfuls of the gold pieces into the sack. ‘But, the fact is, your staff are mean, lazy and downright shit and I’m taking all of this.’
Having swept the remaining pieces into the sack I hoisted it onto my back and, damn was it heavy. I nearly lost my balance.
I looked at this pathetic specimen before me: makeup running down his gaunt, pitiful face; that loony gold gown all puffed up with fur, jewels and feathers. He made me feel sick to my stomach.
‘You are the foulest kind there is. At least Elliot and his type have the balls to be unapologetically evil, rain or shine. Not that I abide that, but you – you and your kind connive, lie and manipulate; getting others to do your dirty work in the pretence it’ll benefit them. And all the while you never do nothing that don’t benefit yourself and everything to save your own filthy hide and keep yourself in the luxury to which you have become accustomed. Of all the low down dirty scumbags I have to deal with, your kind is by far the worst. You are truly undeserved of life.’
‘P-please don’t kill me.’ He fell to his knees and started to sob worse than I did when I beheld poor Alice, ‘I beg you, don’t kill me and please leave me a few coins. I beg you.’
‘Well, you’re in luck ’cos I still need you. If you fail me though, even slightly, I’m going to come back here, drag you out to the desert and turn you into pulled pork. You understand me, you weak little man?’
Sniffling, he nodded feverishly.
‘Where’s the nearest Jew church?’ I asked.
‘You mean a synagogue, surely?’
‘I ain’t asking for religious education. Just tell me where it is before I change my mind about not killing you, now.’
‘Th-three blocks north, you can’t miss it.’
‘OK, here’s what I’m gonna do. I’m gonna go up there and commission one of those Jew preachers…’
‘A rabbi – sorry, sorry,’ he screeched, cowering behind his arms as I raised my gun.
‘… and I’m gonna send him down here. He will collect my friend’s body and burry it in their way, you get me? He ain’t to be molested and my friend’s body ain’t to be touched until he arrives.’
‘Understood,’ he said. ‘What do you wish me to do with the negro – the black – the gentleman. What do you wish me to do with the gentleman?’
I thought for a moment and said, ‘You will organise for him to be cremated, in the proper manner, using your account with Des Diamond.’
‘Oh god,’ he fairly howled.
On the table was a ledger and pencil. I tore a chunk of paper off the ledger and began to scrawl on it. ‘You will send the ashes to this address by way of reputable courier.’
As I handed him the paper I looked him dead in the eye and, as he slowly took the note from me I said: ‘What was it that you called me upstairs?’
‘Er-erm..?’ He just looked at me dumbly and shook his head a little.
‘Little dumpling. Yeah, that was it.’
‘Oh no,’ he shrieked, ‘I am sure it was “little darling”. You must have misheard me,’ he laughed, nervously.
‘Well, consider this you son of a bitch. This little dumpling just done cut the throat out of the waitress you sent to kill me, even though she had a gun and I didn’t. This little dumpling then went and killed one of Old Man Elliot’s boys and just walked right through your damned eatery, killed your professional and didn’t even break a sweat. I guess you know full well now what this little dumpling is capable of. Bear that in mind if you think of stiffing me. Because I will find out and I will be back if you do.’ I hauled the bag up onto my shoulder, which didn’t make it much easier to carry. I started to leave but then I turned around to him one final time.
‘By the way, my name’s Jezebel Misery St. Etienne; and don’t you ever forget it.’
As I made my way along the hallway I saw an exit sign pointing in the opposite direction to that which we had come down and I began to follow it.
I could hear the little weirdo kicking up a hell of a sobbing fuss back there on his knees, in his now empty vault.
‘I won’t ever forget it Diedr – Jezebel. Please, please will you leave me one little coin? Just one little coin to hold, please?’
With that, I departed his stinking empire.
41
Stoneman was right about some things: it was called a synagogue and the fella with the big hat and beard I dealt with did call himself rabbi. He kept reminding me of it when I repeatedly called him padre; just to try to lift my spirits with a bit of the old devilment.
He seemed earnest enough and I was very sincere when I said that all protection would be afforded to him. It was a gamble but, if Stoneman failed me in any way at all, it would give me the excuse I needed to burn down his place, with him and his skanks inside.
The rabbi wanted five hundred and the look on his face when I handed it over in gold told me that Alice would surely get a well deserved send off.
‘Summon all the local Jewish folk to the funeral. She was the finest damned person I ever knew and she deserves some recognition.’
With that business tied up, all that was left for me to do was to deliver justice like it ought to be delivered. But, it was then that the woe at the loss of my friends hit me harder than ever. Alice, just lying there with half her head gone haunted my every thought. Whether my eyes were open or closed it made no difference.
I started to feeling real bad about the arguments we had had and not spending as much time as I could have with her in Pine Island; rather than lazing around on my ass and pleasing myself. My conscience was still bothering me greatly about cutting her hand off. I kept reminding myself that there was no alternative, such things happen out there on the range, but it was no good.
I needed to hunt down that no-good excuse for a man Elliot, and the remaining three of his crew but I could not summon the energy. For a long time I just sat there, on the curb of the synagogue doing nothing more useful than chewing tabacci and feeling like rattlesnake shit.
I tried to walk a spell to get some energy up but it was not working until, out the corner of my eye, I saw something colourful in the grass of some wasteland by the road. I looked around but there was nobody about. I kept my wits about me and walked on over to whatever it was.
As I got closer it started to look like a bundle of clothes and a hat. I could do with some new gear and, in no mood for bartering with a rags merchant, picked up a little pace. As I drew closer I saw that the hat was a Derby; closer still and I saw there was someone within them there clothes. If they were sleeping or dead, I could not tell.
I came upon the heap, which was face down, and gave it a nudge with my boot. Nothing. Another nudge, still nothing. With my hand on my gun I slowly rolled whoever it was over with my boot. When I beheld this person I had seen only once before, well, you could have blew me over with the recoil of Stoneman’s dinky derringer.
Laying there at me my feet, as dead as a doornail, was the old crone I had seen that first night at the agency way back in Austin. There was no signs of blood no
r injury so, I figured, it was clear as day that she had passed natural. She must have come here, to this scrubland, to find a place to croak; like I heard what elephants done do. How she had got to Brenham, to this day, I couldn’t even hazard a guess though, I am as sure as shinola, we did not pass her on the way.
She looked kind of peaceful and the lines on her face told me she had had a good innings. I hate to say it but I forgot about her pretty damn quick, when I saw what was lying next to her. If I had not seen her carrying it before I may have confused it for an overly long length of pipe and bits of wood bundled together. But, I knew better: it was that loving 2 bore - just about the most dreadful gun in creation.
I picked it up and held it. By god, it was heavy. Heavier than my damned sack of gold, I’d reckon.
Next I rifled through her pockets and found a couple of old, dry cigars, a pot of chew and, oh my, six shells for the 2 bore.
I tell you, I had never seen the like before. In truth, just holding them terrified me. They were big brass things with lumps of solid, finely turned brass at the end. They weighed at least half a pound and, I reckon, were more’an five inches long. It took all my strength, and about one hundred ounces of sweat, to work the aged and rusty mechanism when I chambered one.
Armed with the devil’s own contraption, all locked and loaded, I was filled with confidence anew. My two old friends anger and rage turned up, right there and then, to lend me a hand and they guided me in what needed to be done.
42
In the afternoon heat I sure was building up a sweat carrying the sack of gold, tied on my back to free up one hand, and the 2 bore slung over my shoulder. I paced around, for what seemed hours, in the shaded concourse opposite The Venus’s Curse Casino.
“Casino” was a haughty name for what surely was the cheapest and dowdiest whorehouse in town. The place must have been busy as I could see regular movement in the darkened windows; though I had not seen a soul enter or leave in all the time I had been there.
Clearly, to go straight in would have been a foolish move. If it really was the HQ for Elliot and his boys then I would, most likely, be recognised real easy. Not knowing the layout of the place I would be at their mercy. I needed to figure this one real carefully.
***
I had worked my way through a whole pot of chew by the time my patience was rewarded. The double doors were suddenly flung open and two figures were hurled into the street from inside.
They were a boy and a girl and I put them anywhere between twelve and fourteen years. Just kids.
The boy, scrabbling around in the dirt, cupped his face, which was pissing blood and he was yelling in pain. The girl was on her ass, facing the open door hollering: ‘You dirty bastards, we need to eat.’
Then, emerging from the darkness was none other than that fat beast the colonel. He was wearing them old dungarees and, affixed by a chinstrap, a tiny top hat was perched on his head, like what the fancy ladies wore. Elliot’s whole crew was in the teeth of some kind of insanity, for sure.
He hollered, ‘I don’t give a shit. You were thieving and, as a sworn-in agent of the law, I hereby sentence you to a beating. You can think yourselves as fortunate that you’re just a bit too small for me to fuck.’
He strode over to the girl and cuffed her, hard, around the head with the butt of the pistol in his hand. I could clearly hear the sickening crack from where I was. She would not survive one more of those. That son of a bitch; she was just a damned child.
It was then that I pulled that almighty rifle from my shoulder and, as I strode over to him, tried to pull back the serpentine lock.
By Christ, the damned thing wouldn’t budge; I may as well have tried to pull my own arm off. I kept walking and kept pulling but it was useless: I had no time for this, that poor girl would not survive another blow.
‘Well, well. Look who the hell it ain’t,’ said The Colonel, regarding me with that brain-damaged grin of his and those piggy little eyes; buying me some much needed time.
I carried on walking towards him anyway, on account that I reckoned this heavy bastard I was trying to manipulate was probably as accurate as a drunk rhino with a belly full of chilli; if I could even cock the fucker.
‘What you doing with that there circus cannon, huh? Planning to shoot this’un out of it for our entertainment,’ laughed The Colonel, pointing at the girl with the pistol he had just whipped her with.
‘No, I’m planning on gunning you down you worthless, fat bastard.’
‘Oh, come now,’ he said, holding his arms out, ‘you’re hurting my feelings.’
The sight of this monster looming over the kid he had so roughly beat down, just ’cos she had lifted a few bits for something to eat, gave me the righteous wind I needed. With one almighty strain I done pulled that rusty lock all the way back.
‘You want hurt?’ It took more strength than I thought I had to level that hefty barrel at him but I did it all right – so riled up as I was. ‘Try this.’
Now, I have shot just about every firearm that can kick like a mule in my time. In fact, I spent a large chunk of my youth learning how to deal with the recoil of my beloved .44. But there ain’t nothing under this hateful sun that could have prepared me for this big, bad weapon.
I had to tug the trigger hard and, in a normal frame of mind, I would have done a lot more preparing I reckon. If there is a god and he stubbed his toe, then that would probably sound half as quiet as the screaming roar this gun let out.
The windows of most of the buildings nearby rattled out of their frames and the bystanders, who had gathered to see a gunfight, cowered to the ground.
Then there was the kick. Bear in mind it must have weighed a good twenty-five pounds. Holy fuck it was beautiful. My shoulder felt like someone had took a sledgehammer to it and, the force was so great, the whole gun tore itself from my grasp and went spinning way up there in the sky above my head.
Now I want to tell you that The Colonel, who would weigh in at an easy three hundred pounds if he hit a diet real hard, was lifted off his feet and blasted back into the casino whence he came. But I can’t.
There just weren’t that much left of him. I shit you not; I done vaporised the filthy fat fuck. And there was his legacy; a dirty great stain on the ground, which I spat some chew juice at.
The two kids seemed to have forgotten their woes; they both looked at me dumbstruck, the boy holding his nose the girl rubbing her head. It was pretty gross though: both the kids were dripping with bits of The Colonel. All the bystanders, who had openly gathered in the street to get free entertainment, were now hunkering behind and under anything that’d provided cover.
I walked over to the gun that was lying smouldering on the floor in all its awesome glory, rubbing my sore shoulder as I went. Picking it up I broke it and, with a sigh and a pop, ejected the spent cartridge way up in the sky where the gun had recently been.
Thumbing another one of those monstrous shells into the breach, I locked the thing and stood before the dark, gaping door of the casino.
‘Elliot, if you’re in there, come out here like a man and kiss me goodbye.’
43
I stood there for a little while but I soon grew awful tired of levelling that heavy gun at the door and, with all the excitement, I was sweating like a whore when the sailors roll into town.
‘He ain’t here,’ came a wavering voice from within the gloom.
‘Elliot ain’t here,’ came another, frightened sounding voice.
And then, a whole chorus of voices from timid creatures hiding in the shadows told me that Elliot was not there.
‘Right,’ I said, shaking with the weight of the gun. ‘I’m gonna go now. Any of you bastards follow me and I’ll gun you down, you hear?’
‘Yes, ma’am,’ came the weak chorus.
Gasping with relief I lowered the weapon and slung it back over my shoulder.
The kids were still gawping at me as I passed them, snivelling a little and rubbing at thei
r wounds. As I walked by them I stopped, reached into my bag and gave them a handful of gold each.
‘Keep on the righteous path, OK?’
They both nodded, real slow.
I walked off, spinning around every few steps, with my hand on my sidearm in attempt to cover myself.
As I walked the effects of all that adrenalin made their appearance and I nearly stumbled a couple of times as my legs wobbled and fought to keep me aloft.
That was two down and two to go, but I had no idea as to where they were and even littler idea of what to do right then.
Well, I came upon a saloon and I thought it was a good idea to get a drink and steady my nerves. Pushing the doors open I entered the smoke filled place. It was pretty much full of old rangers and the types I had seen parading themselves up and down outside of Cavanaugh’s: bums, thieves, survivalists, bandits and preachers, as well as a smattering of some very loose looking women who were dressed like something you oughtta strap to the side of a carnival float.
I sat at the bar and ordered a whiskey from a custodian in a shirt and weskit, who didn’t even bother looking at me. The drink came in a filthy, cracked tumbler and I downed it one.
I produced my pistol, raised her on high and loosed a shot into the ceiling with a fine explosion.
As dust rained down upon me and I was sure I had their attention, I got off my seat with the gun held aloft.
‘Where can I find Old Man Elliot when he ain’t at the Curse?’ I asked.
No answer.
I levelled my gun at the custodian and asked again, in exactly the same flat tone: ‘Where can I find Old Man Elliot when he ain’t at The Curse?’
The custodian looked at me now, and shook his head real nervous.
‘I don’t rightly know ma’am, really I don’t.’
‘OK. Where can I find the low down sonofabitch Paulie Bastard?’ and I cocked the pistol’s hammer right the way back.
‘Now that I can tell, on account that he sure does enjoy his whoring, ma’am,’ said a portly fella, sitting at a poker game. ‘Furthermore, I can tell you exactly where he is ’cos he can’t do no whoring at The Curse nor at Cavanaugh’s on account ’a he messes the talent up too bad.’