The Wanderer and the New West

by Adam Bender

  Rosa studied the gunman carefully. “It’s in your eyes, too.”

  *

  The Wanderer awoke with a start, and he cursed. He had volunteered to keep watch over the camp and hadn’t meant to doze off, but the hike up the mountain had taken more energy from him than he had expected. For better or worse, Helen hadn’t let him sleep long. Telling the others about what had happened — even if it wasn’t completely accurate — meant he was still thinking about her when he fell asleep, and he ended up dreaming that whole terrible night all over again. This time, when he approached her body, Helen’s eyes opened again and she moaned, “Why, Errol? Why?”

  He rose to his feet and checked each of the tents. The Kid was snoring, so he didn’t bother going inside. Poking his head into Lindsay’s tent, he saw the girl sleeping peacefully. For some reason, he felt the most awkward checking on Rosa, but he managed to gather his courage and tipped the flap of her tent, too.

  The reporter was gone.

  “Shit.” He shook his head. What was Rosa thinking, going off on her own? It was exactly this kind of naive behavior that had sent her on the run in the first place.

  He’d have to go look for her now, of course. The Wanderer went back to Charlie’s tent and whispered sharply through the flap. “Kid!”

  Charlie emitted a weird noise that was something between a snort and a gurgle.

  “Kid!”

  He jolted upright into a sitting position. “Huh? What?”

  “That fool reporter’s gone off on a walk. I’m going to go after her but I need you to watch the camp while I’m gone,” said the Wanderer.

  The Kid reached to his side for a half-eaten bowl of leftover macaroni and cheese. “Yeah, okay, man. Go get her.”

  *

  The wind whistled bleakly through cracks in the red walls lining the dirt path. The Wanderer walked alone, winding through the great rocks with only the moon to light his way. From somewhere in the distance, he heard the excited barking of coyotes.

  He touched his left arm gently, remembering the way Helen used to pull him in close when they strolled together. The truth was she would’ve hated it out here. He always liked to joke that his wife had two favorite activities — shopping and brunch — and the big thing they had in common was air conditioning. Sometimes, Helen would join her friends for squash, but she’d confessed to him once that she only did it to keep up appearances.

  A boulder big enough to climb materialized from the void, blocking the path several yards ahead. Something on top moved. Thinking it might be the lone wolf, the Wanderer reached for his Lassiter. But as he squinted into the inky darkness, he soon made out the silhouette of a reclining woman. She was resting back on her arms and gazing skyward. He kicked a few pebbles loose from the trail to get her attention. She turned sharply, breathing a sigh of relief when she recognized him.

  He called, a bit annoyed, “What are you doing out here, Rosa?”

  “Come on up, and I’ll show you,” she replied.

  For whatever reason, he decided to make a show of it. He bolted down the trail and with a single push hoisted himself on top of the rock.

  She rewarded the maneuver with slow applause, drawing it out to sarcastic effect. “Well, look at you.”

  “It’s not safe to leave camp. What if the lone wolf comes back?”

  “I can take care of myself.”

  “Did you even bring a gun?”

  She shook her head. “All I had was Lindsay’s … and I left it back at the camp.”

  “Well, that’s just plain —”

  “Breck, would you shut up a second and listen to me! I said I wanted to show you something.” She took a breath and pointed up at the night sky. “I’ve been taking in the stars. They’re beautiful here, aren’t they?”

  When he looked, he wondered why he had never thought to do so before. “Looks like someone spilled milk all over the sky.”

  “Jesus,” remarked the reporter, laughing. “You should be a poet.”

  He stroked his stubble. “Do you know any of the constellations?”

  “Not a single one, but I don’t mind.”

  He thought about that a while. “I reckon I’m the same.”

  For a long time, they sat in silence, tracing the heavenly objects from north to south.

  “Ursa Major,” he said.

  She looked up to find the star pattern. “Oh, that’s a good one. Where?”

  “No, I mean, that’s a constellation, ain’t it?”

  *

  Lindsay lay in her sleeping bag with eyes wide open. She couldn’t hear the Wanderer’s footsteps anymore, and she’d seen the reporter lady leave the campsite nearly an hour ago. The Wanderer had woken up Charlie before he left, but Kid Hunter’s time on watch hadn’t lasted long. He was already snoring again. She had no idea where the Wanderer and Rosa had gone, but they’d left their stuff, so she figured they’d be back soon enough. She didn’t have much time.

  Popping on her soft gray hood, the great Lin-Z sprung out of the tent. A loud snort made her giggle, and she couldn’t help but peer through the flap of Charlie’s polyester shelter. He was on his back with a half-eaten bowl of mac and cheese resting on his belly. The pasta rose and fell with his breathing, which was loud and moist. On closer inspection, there was a sticky stream of drool oozing from his mouth. She grinned from ear to ear at how stupid he looked. She thought about taking a picture, but what with? Jimmy hadn’t let her keep her phone. She considered tipping the macaroni into Charlie’s mouth, or maybe pouring the sticky stuff all over his shirt.

  “Focus, Lin-Z!” she whispered sharply, slapping herself lightly on the cheek. All that mattered was the gun.

  She circled the campsite, doing a quick survey of the surrounding area, then popped into Rosa’s tent. Falling onto her knees next to the reporter’s big hiking backpack, the young thief’s cheeks flushed with glee. This was just like Christmas!

  *

  “So how did you meet her?”

  The Wanderer met Rosa’s gaze and turned away just as quickly, twisting the gold wedding band on his finger. “Helen? I suppose I always knew her.”

  It wasn’t much of a story. They’d grown up together, the children of magnates — he the heir to the gun monopoly and she the heiress to Big Oil. Their fathers were friends, so they were friends. Because they were the same age, they shared a private teacher. After class, they played. Helen had this one game where she’d chase Errol all around the yard, trying to plant a kiss on his cheek. He was too young to enjoy it at the time.

  Gerard had always been jealous. It wasn’t that he wanted Helen for himself; he just always wanted what Errol had. The object itself was irrelevant. Things only got worse when they grew into teenagers, and Errol and Helen began to explore beyond a chaste friendship. When the young lovers sought privacy and shut out Gerard, the stepbrother had turned mean.

  “So the cowboy and the princess, huh?” Rosa summarized with a knowing grin. “Think I’ve seen that movie.”

  “Heh.”

  She put her hand on his and Errol felt the entire mood shift. She could flick off the sarcasm as quickly as she laid it on.

  “I’m sorry about before, making you talk about what happened,” she said. “It must have been so hard —”

  “It was my gun that shot her.” The air went out of him as quickly as the truth. He’d never told anyone that before. He’d felt the truth pushing against the inside of his lips all night, but he’d been too damn scared to let it out. Now he had confessed and to a reporter! What was he thinking? What a damned fool he was!

  A hand fell softly on his shoulder. “I think I knew.”

  He recalled Rosa’s skeptical look as he told the yarn about the burglars. “Some of the story was true. There was an intruder, but just one, and I shot him dead in the kitchen. There was no struggle, and there wasn’t a second man, let alone a third.”

  Rosa squeezed his hand gently. “You heard a noise, so you turned and fired.”

 
He closed his eyes, but it only made more vivid the image of blood bubbling from his wife’s belly. He looked at Rosa instead. “I really did think there was another intruder. The one in the kitchen had a pistol, and so I thought … then the bad gun fired and I saw Helen … and she was just dead. I didn’t … there wasn’t even a chance of getting her to the hospital.”

  “Is that why you left?”

  He scowled sharply. “There was no place for me in Vegas, I didn’t want the gun company, I had to start over.”

  Somewhere far away, a group of coyotes yapped and howled.

  “I get it,” Rosa said. “What you’re doing, I mean. All the fights — protecting the innocents against the bad guys. You’re trying to tip the scales of fate back in your favor. Well, I’d say you’ve already made yourself into a damn fine folk hero.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Hey, can I ask you something else?”

  “Go ahead.”

  “Was the guy really pigging out on lasagna when you found him?”

  The Wanderer laughed ruefully. “I might have embellished that part, slightly.”

  *

  Charlie was dreaming about a yellow puppy with big brown eyes. It was his dog, a stray golden retriever he’d found in the streets of Vegas and took into his care. He’d called him Shadow.

  He giggled. “Stop it, Shadow!”

  The dog was making loud scarfing noises as it chewed some crumbs or something Charlie had left on his belly, and it tickled.

  “C’mon, boy, I said stop it!” he exclaimed.

  His eyes snapped open, revealing the dream for what it was, but the sound of eating continued and there was something big and warm on his belly. Peering down at his legs, Charlie saw furry ears and an enormous brown head dipping into a bowl. He yelped and the head lifted, revealing glowing eyes and a short black snout. Stuck between the animal’s razor-sharp teeth was an orange-cheese sludge.

  “Bear!” he yelped. The beast folded back its ears and emitted a low growl.

  He couldn’t tell how big it was, but it sure as hell was big enough. Pieces of an article about what to do during a bear attack raced through the Kid’s mind. He remembered it being recommended to play dead, but also that this same tactic wouldn’t put off a predatory black bear from his meal. Instead, with that kind of bear, you were supposed to do the opposite and fight back. Was this bear black or brown? It was too damn dark to tell!

  A gunshot startled the bear. It sprang onto its hind legs, lifting the entire tent off the ground. Kid Hunter took the opportunity to roll out from under. He heard shouting and what sounded like banging pots and pans, but there was no time to investigate. Panting, he got up to his feet and made for the trail leading back down the mountain. He thought about climbing a tree, but then remembered that this was again the wrong thing to do for black bears, which were said to be excellent climbers. What a useless article! He kept running.

  *

  At the sound of gunfire, the Wanderer leaped off the rock and dogged it back to the campsite. He could hear Rosa’s faint footfalls behind him. The lone wolf must have found them. Oh no. Charlie … Lindsay …

  When he reached the camp, he couldn’t explain what he found. It looked like a tornado had blown through, flipping Kid Hunter’s tent on its side in the process. He discovered Lindsay awake and peering curiously down the trail they’d come up earlier. There was a gun in her hand — the gun Rosa had taken from her.

  The Wanderer grabbed her by the arm and wrenched the pistol away. “Where is he?” he yelled. “What have you done?”

  The girl carried a bemused expression on her face. “Oh, hi!”

  “Where’s the Kid?”

  She giggled. “We had a furry visitor. Charlie screamed like a baby and ran off.” She turned back to the path and yelled, “Hey, Charlie, you wuss, the bear’s gone!”

  He shushed her. “You trying to get the lone wolf’s attention?”

  She laughed. “You should’ve heard Charlie squeal. I think that boat has sailed.”

  The Wanderer followed the girl’s long stare down the mountain trail.

  “It’s gone?” called a voice from the darkness. “Are you sure?”

  “I’m sure!”

  Rosa appeared. Her eyes latched instantly on Lindsay’s gun. “You went into my tent?”

  The Wanderer held her back. “Seems Ursa Major leaped down from the sky and gave Kid Hunter quite a scare. The Little Wanderer here got her gun and scared him off.”

  “I didn’t shoot him,” Lindsay said, “but the gunshot got him out of Charlie’s tent. Then I made a lot of noise, and the two of them ran off in different directions.”

  “Two?” gasped Rosa.

  “The bear and Kid Hunter.”

  Something crackled. Something was coming back.

  “Lindsay, get away from there!” cried Rosa.

  The girl just rolled her eyes. “It’s just the wuss returning.”

  Kid Hunter came out of the woods with a serious expression on his face. “Good evening,” he said. “I’ll just … I’ll just go fix my tent.”

  He flipped it and attempted to bend the frame back into shape. Occasionally he whimpered. He entered briefly and emerged holding a partially gnawed bowl that had once contained food. “Where can I … ?” he started. “Where can I … dispose of this? Safely?”

  They spent the next hour removing any other open and leftover food that could conceivably attract another creature of the night. When they finished, Charlie volunteered to do one last check of the perimeter and stay up until morning to keep watch.

  “No sleeping this time,” chided the Wanderer.

  “You kidding? I’ll never sleep again!”

  After the Kid left, Rosa addressed Lindsay about the gun. “You went through my bag?”

  “But —!”

  “I’m not finished, young lady! I will admit that it’s a good thing you found the gun. Charlie’s a bit of a drama queen, but — well, I don’t want to think about what could have happened. So … we’re going to let you keep the gun while we’re still out here in the wilderness. For protection. That said, as soon as we get to town, you can bet I will take it away from you again.”

  “Yes!” burst the girl, unable to hide the excitement. She sheathed the pistol in the belly pocket of her hoodie sweatshirt and skipped giddily into her tent.

  “She took that a bit too well,” said Rosa to the Wanderer.

  “I reckon girls will be girls.”

  She snorted. “What’s that supposed to mean? Do you seriously just say things you think will sound good in that phony western accent?”

  He shrugged. “Sorry, but I do believe it’s my turn to ask a question.”

  She laughed real big. For once it felt great hearing it. “So, what do you want to know?”

  He took a considered breath through his nose. “Just one thing. What’s he like? Pablo.”

  “Oh, I think you’d like him,” she said, a mischievous grin forming on her face. “He likes to dress up like a cowboy, too.”

  “Heh.”

  The reporter covered the gotcha smile with her hands and began to cry. Hesitating for only a second, the Wanderer pulled her close, letting her bury her head in the folds of his flannel shirt.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  The Hero Never Dies, Right?

  As the first pink rays of dawn warmed the summit, Lindsay peeked out of her tent and surveyed the campground. It was Kid Hunter’s turn to watch the camp, but nature had called and he’d gone off to pee. Rosa’s tent was still, while the Wanderer snoozed by the cold campfire with his Stetson dipped over his eyes.

  The young thief who called herself Lin-Z emerged with a full backpack and a semiautomatic pistol. She pulled a gray hood over her bright red hair and made her way down the trail that led back down the hill.

  Night had yet to entirely give up its hold. Occasional dots and lines of morning rays high up in the trees looked like strange apparitions jumping from one branch to another. At first, L
in-Z walked like a native, stepping softly around the needles and cones so as not to make a noise. But as she created more distance with the camp, she stepped more boldly, even taking pleasure in the noise she made with each skip and hop.

  She was close. She had to be. Jimmy had clearly come through this way. He was as slow as a snail, so he couldn’t be far ahead. She’d been tracking him for the whole journey while pretending to lead the way to Founders Spring. Well, it wasn’t a total lie. She had brought the Wanderer and the others in the right direction, at least, and they could certainly find the rest of the way on their own. To be honest, she could have ditched them a while ago, but she’d needed to get her gun back. She had thought she’d have to steal it back, but last night’s furry visitor had lent a helping paw and a convenient excuse.

  Lin-Z grinned at the thought of the bear. She was glad she hadn’t had to shoot the cute little guy. Okay, big guy. Whatever.

  She did feel a little bit bad about not getting to say good-bye to Kid Hunter. He was actually kind of funny. The memory of him hightailing it out of the campsite made her giggle. He meant well anyway. She guessed they all did. Even the reporter lady who took her gun.

  She snapped to attention at the sound of a moan and quick inhalation of breath. Instinctively, she dodged behind a tree. There was someone sleeping nearby. Realizing it could be Jimmy, she left her hiding spot to get a better look. Peering through brambles, Lin-Z found an extinguished campfire of black twigs and ash. There was a man sleeping with a scoped Montag rifle lying to his side. She could only see his back, but he was wearing a dirty white NFL jacket. Jimmy never took off that coat. Smiling mischievously, Lin-Z grabbed a stick from the forest floor and edged forward. With a small giggle, she poked him in the back. Jimmy flopped over to face her — and she saw it wasn’t Jimmy at all. She noticed a black hole in the chest of the familiar coat, and a streak of dried blood.

  With a short gasp, she pulled her handgun and aimed it at the man’s face. He had pink eyes and angry red facial hair. His breathing sounded difficult, sprinkled with little grunts and smacking lips.