by Horst, John
The Negro turned his head, like a dog intrigued by a whistle. He responded with a sound similar to a huffing voice, “Yeahuh.”
The scrawny man spoke up again. “He can’t talk to ya. He got a tampin’ iron drove through his head, Miss. He can only say ‘yeahuh.’”
“I see.”
She held out her free hand and the Negro took it. “What’s your name, Mister?”
The scrawny man spoke up again. “He ain’t got one; he’s just called Big Black.”
“Come on, Big Black, you sit with me.” He followed like a giant trained bear and Maria noticed that everyone gave Big Black a wide berth. She should not have to shoot her way out of this saloon after winning.
She laid her money out and the dealer gave out the cards. It was another big game, which Maria always liked as she had more cards to count. Winning came easy this night, easier even than at The Cage. Most of these men were pretty thick. She wondered if lumbermen were as stupid as railroad workers. If so, she couldn’t wait to move on to Flagstaff.
Suddenly a man reached over and grabbed Maria by the arm. He was not angry or aggressive, just excited to recognize her. “I… I know you! You shot up all those hombres down in Bisbee.”
Several men looked the diminutive Maria over and then looked at the man. They liked a good story about shootings. Big Black noticed the man’s hand on his new mistress and jerked his head a little sideways, grunted “yeahuh,” and the man knew to get away.
“Sorry, Miss.” He looked afraid of Big Black and this amused Maria to no end.
“God damn, I hearda that.” The scrawny man with rotten teeth continued. “Goddamn, lady. That was sompin’.”
The dealer continued and enjoyed watching Maria play. The saloon was so violent that every table had to have a dealer as the patrons could not be trusted to work it out for themselves. The dealer not only ran the game, but acted as enforcer and nursemaid. This dealer was an especially violent and hateful man, but he was enjoying Maria. He was not evil, just hateful and mean and tough.
He was hateful as he’d had a belly full of this place but could not move on and he enjoyed watching his regular customers lose all their money. He was sick of them, tired of their inane conversations and poor playing. He was tired of the senseless violence and tired of watching these animals kill each other. He was simply tired and now found something, someone, in the form of Maria to watch and enjoy and to break up the monotony.
He turned at one point and sniffed the air with a sour look on his face. “Goddamn you, I told you to stop that.”
The man next to him smiled sheepishly like a scolded child. He passed wind as a hobby and was very good at it. Everyone hated him, he was disgusting. He tried to look at his cards and ignore the dealer, but just couldn’t contain himself and started to giggle uncontrollably, like a little boy.
“Enough! Jesus Christ, you’re stinking up the place worse than Hedor, there.” He looked at the scrawny young man with rotten teeth who’d now clamped his lips tightly together and did his best to breathe through his nose. The dealer regarded Maria. “Can’t you see there’s a lady present? Jesus man! Show a little goddamned respect, a little goddamned self-control.”
They played along some more and Maria was clearing the table faster than any farting man could ever hope to do. Few were left with enough money to ante up and now she was with Big Black and his rotten-toothed friend, the dealer, a gambler, and the windy man. They played for a while and Big Black gazed at Maria adoringly.
At one point the game was interrupted as the dealer suddenly lost control. The windy man had been farting for some time. Everyone just accepted it, but the dealer had reached his breaking point. Maria’s presence was likely the catalyst. She’d cast her spell on him and the vapors unraveled him, the thought of a lowlife leaking the poisons from his body in the presence of such a beauty was simply too much. He turned; face red, veins bulging and his eyes as wild as a roped mustang. He looked at the man. “I swear, you son of a bitch, if you do it one more time, I’m putting a bullet in you.”
The man suppressed his grin and sat, chagrined. He did not look at the dealer or anyone at the table. Maria tried to settle everyone down. She spoke into her cards. “Let me light another smoke, dealer, that’ll help.” She did and blew a big cloud in the direction of the windy man. “If that don’ do it, we’ll get the boy here,” she pointed at Hedor, “to blow his breath around, it might improve the air.”
They all laughed but the dealer was not amused. He had such rage these days and nothing seemed to help. He stared at his hands and continued to fume.
She won a big pot and couldn’t help herself. She reached over and grabbed the Negro by the arm and gave it a squeeze. “How’s that one, Big Black?”
He turned his head a little sideways. “Yeahuh.”
Maria was ready to call it a night when the dealer suddenly stood up. His face was now beet red and he pulled his six shooter. He fired and killed the windy man.
The scrawny man leapt from his chair in horror, “Sonofabitch, you are a tough one!” He quickly shut his mouth to avoid offending the dealer further, then muttered under his breath, “Shootin’ a man for fartin’. This is a goddamned wicked place.”
Big Black and his scrawny companion escorted Maria to the whorehouse. The young fellow was a bit smitten now, as well, but knew that Maria was out of his league by a mile. He also knew that Big Black would kill him if he tried for the Mexican beauty. He walked along and talked incessantly, mostly about the town and Big Black. He had known the man the longest and knew what happened to him.
“He used to be smart, lady. He was settin’ charges and had his face over a tampin’ iron and the charge went off, blew the damn iron right through his head. He flopped around like a gill hooked fish and damn if he didn’t live after they pulled that steel from his head. That’s what happened to Big Black. Now he can’t talk ‘ceptin’ that one word. But he’s all right. He knows what’s goin’ on.”
They arrived at the brothel and Big Black stood by, awaiting orders. The scrawny man looked the place over. He’d known it well enough, though the whores were so put off by his rotting mouth that they’d never give him any commerce.
“You can’t stay in here, lady. Come on with us. We got a good place, me and Big Black. You stay with us.”
And she did. It was one of the shotgun shacks she’d passed when she followed the boy down the alley. It was a wreck but had a good bed. It was Big Black’s bed and he offered it to Maria. She took him up on it and she slept well. Big Black took a chair outside her door, like a faithful hound.
She stayed with them for a week and extracted as much as she could from the hellhole. Eventually, no one would give her a game. The place was beginning to wear on her nerves; it was evidently a magnet for stupid men. Everywhere, men were behaving badly, getting drunk, falling over, and vomiting great gouts in the street until the place reeked of it. The sound of shooting guns was incessant and sometimes made it difficult to sleep. One man died under the window of Big Black’s bedroom, gut shot, but not before wailing for more than an hour. Maria resolved to put a bullet through his head, just to get some sleep. As she’d gotten up, he had a sort of fit and mercifully died on his own. She could finally settle down and have a few hours rest.
She was up early this day and had gone down to the brothel to fetch Alanza. The scrawny man was sleeping and Big Black was at his job, which was to collect beer bottles from all the saloons and deliver them to a small brewery at the end of town. It kept him in food money.
Early in the morning, Canyon del Muertos was at its least horrible. Those who were awake were too drunk or sick to cause trouble; everyone else was generally passed out. Alone, she tacked up Alanza, even the little tobacco-spitting boy wasn’t around.
She had everything in order and led Alanza down the main street, known affectionately as hell street by the inhabitants, and on toward Flagstaff. She didn’t want to talk to her two companions. They’d fallen in love with h
er. They weren’t a bad sort, but there was no sense in getting too caught up in goodbyes. There would be no profit in it for any of them.
She was preparing to mount when she saw the men behind her. She knew they intended trouble and thought it might be better to fight on horseback. Then, reconsidered, the stupid men might shoot Alanza. She continued to walk.
They’d been up all night but hadn’t had much to drink. They were planning an early morning robbery, and Maria was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time. They’d been hoping for a swipe at her for the past several days and here was their big chance. She’d taken money from two of them playing cards, the third one just wanted to rob her.
They wasted no time and went for their six shooters. They didn’t mind shooting someone in the back and Maria was famous for the Bisbee incident. They were fairly terrified of her. She wheeled and ran toward an alley; she did not want Alanza in the line of fire. She had her Winchester ready, pointing at the closest man when Big Black appeared out of nowhere.
He knocked her back and Maria flew like a rag doll several feet down the narrow pathway. The bad men now had their guns trained on the big man. They all fired and Big Black stood like a mountain, absorbing bullet after bullet, closing on them, doggedly, without hesitation. He smashed a bottle over the head of the first man and dropped him. The second, now dumbfounded by his ineffective fire, tried to retreat and Big Black hit him hard on the nose, dropping him to his knees. The third man continued to fire, too unnerved to shoot well enough for a killing shot and too petrified to try for an escape. He too went down.
Maria was on them, watching as Big Black finally crumpled, first to his knees and then falling face down, like a great dark giant, into the dusty street.
She pulled at him with all her strength, turning him over onto his back.
He looked up at her and nodded, “Yeahuh.”
She looked at him. He had been hit with more than a dozen bullets in the abdomen, most meant for Maria. She held him gently in her lap and cradled his great head. Bending down, she kissed him gently, on his bloody lips. “Tell me your name, my love, tell me your name.”
“Yeahuh…Henry.”
She held him and watched him expire. “You go on to heaven, my love, my Henry. I will see you there soon.” Big Black was dead.
Maria retrieved her Winchester from the alley as the men began to stir. She emptied the rifle into them, pulled her six shooters and emptied them. No one would be able to identify them when she was finished, that was her intent. She finally mounted Alanza and they rode off.
Hedor followed her and caught her when she was halfway to Flagstaff. He’d been crying over Big Black, his face and eyes puffy and red. Maria finally stopped so that he could catch up. She waited for him to speak.
“Lady, I…, I.”
“You may not come with me.”
“I don’t know.” He looked at the reins in his hand. “I don’t have nowheres else to go, lady. Can’t go back there. Can’t.”
“You go home, boy. Go to where you were born, go to your mother, boy, and live. Don’t go to such places again. Go home.”
He was crying and Maria moved Alanza close to him. She offered him a wad of bills but he wouldn’t take it. She shoved the money into his dirty shirt pocket and patted him on the chest. “Go on, boy. Take this and go.”
She wheeled and suddenly pulled up. Looking back, she said, “Muchacho, his name was Henry.”
Flagstaff
Maria felt drained. The death of poor Henry and the ugliness of Canyon del Muertos had put her in a funk and she now rode along wondering why she’d put herself in such a place. The big man died for her. She hadn’t wanted this to happen, never intended to put him in danger and was a little put off by it all, as she didn’t need his help. She could have killed the men easily had he not intervened, she knew that. She was ready with her Winchester and she was certain they’d lose their will to fight once she dropped the first one. The others would have been easy to finish off, then. And anyway, she’d put a good bit of distance between herself and the bad men. She’d never seen a bandit yet who could shoot a six shooter better than she could with a Winchester, especially at that distance. She’d had the upper hand.
Poor Henry. At least he died well. He died in her arms and, like Crisanto, died knowing love in the last moments of life. That was a good way to die and Maria was glad she could give him at least that much.
She thought more about these gringos. The further she moved north, the less she liked them. They all seemed so greedy, obsessed with gaining wealth without working for it. At least in Mexico, it seemed, most of the people were resigned to their fate. They’d be poor but make the best of it without resorting to low living and murder.
She thought about the bandits who killed the old woman and old man. Maybe the bad men were the same everywhere. She was so tired now and she’d given herself a headache over all this thinking and worry. She counted her money and had added only a thousand dollars to her bankroll after expenses and after giving Hedor some of her cash. She hoped he’d take her advice and move on. She liked him and felt sorry for him. He was too decent a fellow to live such a life.
When she hit Flagstaff her spirits lifted a bit. It was a nice town and much cleaner than the hellhole from which she’d fled. Flagstaff had industry. It had the timber trade and the railroad and ranching. It had a decent, hardworking citizenry. She saw a nice hotel and decided to change her strategy a bit. She rode into a well maintained livery stable and boarded Alanza there.
The people were kind to her, an old couple not unlike the old man and old woman who raised her, and they willingly stowed her traps. She removed her sombrero and vest, gun belt, pulled her trousers out of her boots and hid the ornate Mexican stitching on the tops. She now looked relatively benign.
She sauntered into a ladies shop and was greeted by an older white woman who looked her over doubtfully. Maria expected such and laid a wad of bills on the counter. “I need a nice dress, lady.”
The woman picked the money up and counted it. She looked at Maria and smiled. “You’ve come to the right place, my dear. But first, a bath.”
Maria, now dressed properly, like a lady, proceeded to the Bank Hotel. It was the finest place she’d stayed in since her visit with Juana. The lady had dressed her in dark grey and this muted Maria’s complexion enough to allow her to blend in, at least a little. She’d decided that she did not want to make a statement just now. Her fame at Canyon del Muertos was flattering, but it did nothing to add to her bankroll and this was foremost on her mind.
The clerk greeted her with deference. Maria was learning that if she waved enough money around, it almost always resulted in respect or at least, civility. People liked the color of green and were invariable not so put off by a dark complexion when enough of it was involved. She was soon registered and settled in for the night. The room was cozy, the bed soft and comfortable.
Maria had surveyed the place when she arrived. It had a grand lounge and dining room, with a small gaming area in a corner for the more well-to-do patrons inclined to such activity. It made it possible for them to lose their money without leaving the place, and this is exactly what the proprietor had in mind. He’d brought in a card sharp from San Francisco, a good looking man who dressed well in silk vests and fancy striped ditto suits. He had dark hair and sprinkled it liberally with some sort of treatment which made it shine like a new penny. Maria eyed him as she sat at a table. He was soon standing beside her and introducing himself.
“Traveling alone?”
“Sí, ah, yes, my padre, eh, I am sorry, my English, not so good. My father coming to see me here.” She pointed doubtfully at the floor and gave him a shy smile.
She was magnificent and he snatched glances at her without being too obvious. She offered to let him sit down. “You are a game man?”
“Yes, ma’am. I run the tables here. Come from California but been here since last year. Not a bad place. Money’s good and you don’t h
ave to duck bullets.” He grinned and liked her response to his suggestion that he’d seen much danger. He looked as if he knew she was impressed. “Do you play?” He was convinced that such a sheltered young woman had not and wanted to impress her further by showing off his knowledge of the games.
“Oh, no. Padre would not like.” She shifted in her chair and looked down at her coffee cup. “He, well, he teach me one game, call in our language veintidos, I think. I think that is what it mean, eh, what it called.”
The man grinned. Her broken English was charming; she was simply delicious. “Veintiuno, twenty one.”
“Ah, sí, that is the name, Twenty-One.” She grinned. “I have played this game.” She looked away, a little shy about being around such a handsome man. “But we have play for only button. Never money.”
He eventually pulled himself away. He had to work and she promised to visit him at the gaming table that evening. She smiled coyly and waved goodbye, promising to visit. But Maria had other plans. She went to her room and resolved to stay away from him for the rest of the evening. She’d work on him over the next day.
At around nine she approached the desk clerk and asked him to keep some money for her. He was a young man, bookish, and not comfortable around women. Maria worked her magic and had him stuttering and stammering. He became pale when she produced her stack of money.
“We, we can’t keep that much, ma’am!” He held up his hands as if to ward the money off.
“But, you are called the Bank Hotel, no?”
He stammered again and summoned the proprietor who sauntered over to offer assistance. His eyes widened at the sum, “Go on, lad, put it in the safe for the lady.” He grinned uneasily at Maria. “Safe and sound, ma’am, safe and sound.”
She returned to her room and ordered a bath, got it, and requested half a dozen other things a woman of means would want, as much as she could imagine. It was all a lot of fun. She was beginning to enjoy this civilized living and wondered if sleeping on the desert floor would start to get uncomfortable.