No Good Like It Is

  Dobey thought for a moment, then said, “We’ll talk.” He motioned to Jimmy, and the two Rangers moved off a few yards for a conference.

  When the Rangers returned minutes later, Dobey said, “I want you to give another twenty dollars to the Watsons for their troubles, and you, Honey, and Bear split the other cash. We didn’t even think to search for it, and so we would not have had it, anyways.”

  Jimmy asked, “That whiskey. Is it good stuff we should keep?”

  “Non, cher. Is rotgut. Maybe William, he can sell it in those drinking places?”

  “I was thinking that, too. Big William, you keep what you get for it, but don’t you be getting into it yourself, ‘less you come up blind, you hear?” He gave Big William a rare grin.

  “Yassuh. Yas-suh! And mighty kind of you, Boss. Nossuh. Big William ain’t no fool. Be gettin’ right to that, right now.” His grin was infectious. He punched Bear on the shoulder, and left.

  Marie-Louise watched him bounce away, then turned to eye Jimmy, then Dobey in turn. “Him, you give a gun already. An’ we must feed him. You think is good to give that darky money?”

  Dobey looked to Jimmy, who shrugged. “I got a feel for men. Usually I’m right, Cap’n, and you know it. I think this one is all right. He ain’t dumb as he lets on. Anyways, he’s part of our little army, and he’s got to be paid. Least til he messes up.”

  Dobey nodded agreement, then said, “Wouldn’t hurt if you sent Bear along with him, though. That village ain’t half empty of villains, yet. And we got to decide what do about that marshal. You want to just run him out of town? Think he’s scared enough?”

  Jimmy thought for a moment. “Probably is, right now. Let me handle it, Cap’n. I’ll feel him out. But you know, if I was him, I’d say anything to keep me from just killing him. They was lawmen we killed. Sooner or later, that marshal’s gonna get righteous about that, or about us running him off from this sweet deal he’s had here. He’ll come, or put out paper on us.”

  “He doesn’t know where we’re heading,” said Dobey.

  “Knows these folks was going to Santa Fe. They knows where we’s heading. Let me just handle it.”

  “All right Jimmy. But if you want him dead, let’s have a little military court, try him for armed robbery, helping to rape or something, and hang him front of the town. Make it official.”

  “Yeah. Like we didn’t know the war was over.”

  An hour later, Bear was back. “Marshal’s gone, Boss. Had a key hid somewheres, he did. Took off, had that ferryman put him across the Arkansas River. Him? He gone south.”

  Melton looked at Dobey. “You see? I should of never locked him up. My gut said, ‘Just shoot him.’ Ever’ damn time I try to do something good, it goes wrong.”

  Dobey smiled. “No good deed goes unpunished.”

  ***

  Over coffee at dawn, the Watsons thanked them solemnly, then asked if they could tag along to Texas with them, as they now could afford a boat trip.

  Marie-Louise had no objection, and Jimmy just said, “Free country. Long as they don’t slow us down. Hell, I don’t know how we could go no slower, no how.”

  The little army grew.

  ***

  Five miles below them, Marshal Fetterman stumbled along the banks of the Mississippi, watching for a southbound boat. “Sons a bitches,” he muttered, “I’ll get ‘em.” He spat out another dangling tooth. “Last thing I ever do, I’ll get ‘em.”

  Chapter Thirty-five

  After the noon meal, Bear squatted beside Dobey. “That fambly, they hasn’t nothing to eat ‘cept beans. Not even corn bread, Cap’n.”

  “And you were thinking what?”

  “Oldest boy, he fifteen. Name Jimmy, but they calls him Buck. He say he can hunt. They’s wild pigs in that brush. Seen ‘em beyond the edge of town. Might take that boy, see can we kill one or two. Big William, he a cook. Mama says we could share.”

  “All right. But you hear two or more shots fired from here, y’all come running. It means either trouble or a boat has come.”

  ***

  As no westbound boat appeared, the loose camp settled in for a second night. Dobey sent Honey to ask the Watsons to help them eat the one pig that Bear had killed. Big William had it on a spit, sizzling.

  The Watsons shuffled over to the cook fire, nervous except for Buck, who had spent an afternoon in the brush, tracking pigs with Bear. The older black boy, much bigger and better armed, was intimidating. Both boys had been on edge, watching for, even expecting a slight. Now at supper, they chattered on about hunting, two old friends.

  Dobey stood, indicated some boxes and invited them to sit, but Mrs. Watson hesitated, wringing her hands. “Oh, my. I ain’t never sat and et supper with no niggers before.”

  Dobey rolled his eyes. “Now that’s an ice breaker.”

  Marie-Louise sprang to her feet, pushing Jimmy down as he tried to stand, too. “Non. And I doubt you have been beat and raped before, neither. The times, they change.”

  Jimmy pushed her hand off his shoulder and scrambled to his feet, choking on cornbread, unable to speak, but scary nevertheless. The Watsons’ eyes bulged, collectively about three inches.

  Dobey pointed to Marie-Louise. “It was her boy that killed this pig, and Big William there that cooked it. And her that said to invite you.” He took a deep breath. “I know you’ve been through a lot here, and the world is upside down. But I won’t tolerate rudeness. Y’all can apologize, set and eat, or go back to your wagon and rejoice in being white.”

  “Or go straight to hell,” added Jimmy, finally gaining his voice. Marie-Louise patted his arm. Mrs. Watson bit her hand and sobbed.

  Anger, tension, fear, and hunger overlaid the cook fire in roughly equal parts. Buck broke the spell. “Damn, Momma, they is good people. Prob’ly saved our lives.”

  Watson snapped at him, “Don’t never cuss your mama.” Turning to Marie-Louise, he folded his hands as if praying. “Hazel don’t mean nuthin bad. She ain’t mean. She just says whatever pops into her head. It’s her truth. It just ain’t always nice. And we don’t know whether we’s coming or going right now. I guess we should be going. We are sorry, and we know we owe you more than we can even say.”

  “Fair enough,” said Jimmy as he squatted again. Marie-Louise kicked him in the knee. “Or you can stay.” he grumbled.

  Dobey pointed to the boxes again. “Please. Sit. Everybody is strung out. We need to eat and get guards out. Now where y’all from?”

  Slowly, in halting fits and starts, the meal moved from its ragged humble beginning to a surprisingly pleasant conclusion. Big William’s food helped. It was better than anything any of them had experienced lately. Or maybe ever.

  It turned out that the Watsons - Henry, Hazel, Buck, Amanda, and Abel (called Button) - were on a roll of bad luck, shocking in its length and depth, even in these hard times. They crossed from Mississippi to Mason’s Landing to find their latest misfortune. They left behind three dead children, stolen pigs, cows, chickens, and mules, a poisoned well, and a burned farm. Watson had fought for the South briefly in Tennessee before being sent home with head and leg wounds, which left him unsteady on his feet. A runaway slave had knocked Hazel Watson on the head with a board when she caught him in their smoke house, leaving her somewhat addled, two years ago.

  “At least, more so than she was before,” her husband concluded.

  “Which was gracious plenty, afore she was hit,” murmured Buck.

  “Good food,” Hazel said suddenly, smiling at Big William. “Maybe best I ever et. You put onions and apples in these beans, din’t you?”

  “Yas’m. And some bacon, grapes, and a pepper. Little sugar, too. And tomato sauce.”

  “Oh, my stars in Heaven. Mandy, ‘member all that for me. See, this is just too much at once. Oh, my.” She frowned, then brightened again. “Could use honey, hadn’t you no sugar, I guess.”

  “Yas’m. Sure could. Prob’ly better. Now, just you have a lil more here.�
�� He spooned the last of the beans to her, Jimmy, Bear and Buck. “Raisins is good as grapes, if’n you has ‘em.”

  She nodded, her eyes wet with wonder and gratitude. “The captain was right. Upside down.” Watson hugged her and thanked everyone again.

  Honey touched Mandy’s arm and whispered, “I got to pee. C’mon.”

  Bear stretched. “Getting dark.” He faced the twelve-year-old Button and said, “You and me will be guards first, then Buck and Big William.” He glanced at Jimmy, who nodded and spoke.

  “Cap’n and I will go third, then start over. Take the cap’n’s watch, and stay awake and on your feet. One of us will be checking on you.”

  ***

  As Honey crept into the wagon later, she confided to Marie-Louise that Mandy feared that her mother would be pregnant from the rape. “She bleeding down there, Mama, but she don’t know is it the monthlies, or is it torn.”

  “Morning, we take her to that doctor.”

  “Mama, he a tooth doctor.”

  “You know another doctor here? We take her there. Someone takes care of all those whores.”

  ***

  The next morning, four women, accompanied by Buck and Bear, prepared to go visit the dentist. They waited for the Rangers to return from their daily ablutions, but once informed, Jimmy sent the two young men alone.

  “Drunk or sober, bring him here. Bring all his stuff, and any helper he might have. I’ll have coffee and cold water for him, and hot water for her. Don’t let nobody slow you down. Boat might show any minute.”

  Bear brought him back fifteen minutes later, slung across his horse, protesting mildly. A skinny, scantily clad, barefoot and buck-toothed girl rode behind Buck.

  Dumped without ceremony, Doctor John Thomason, a balding forty year old, dusted himself off and adjusted his spectacles. “I fear I’ve lost all that I ate and drank last night, and your nigra cuffed me. Twice, I believe.”

  “Puked on my boot,” Bear explained, shaking his head in disgust.

  “He ain’t my ‘nigra’ nor anyone elses,” said Jimmy. “Only reason he din’t shoot you is we might need you here. You ain’t ‘zackly out of danger yet.” He poured a bucket of cold water over the stupefied dentist’s head.

  Jimmy grabbed his ear and took him, gasping and sputtering, to the morning fire. “Set. Drink this coffee, and there’s biscuits, do you want one. Don’t talk til you’re sober, less’n you want dental work yourself.” He faced the girl. “You his help?”

  “Sort of,” she said. She dismounted with help from Buck, and took a leather bag from him. “Thank you,” she said sweetly, and squeezed his arm. “I’m the only whore has had any school, so he lets me help when I ain’t working. He ain’t bad, by the way, when he’s sober.” She accepted a mug of coffee and a biscuit. “That’s generally from about noon til three p.m.”

  Marie-Louise had guessed right about him, though. Since there was little dental work to be done in Mason’s Landing, his side-line of tending the whores in exchange for their favors had become his primary business.

  An hour later, relatively sober, he diagnosed Hazel’s bleeding as menstrual, and to everyone’s relief announced that because of the blood flow, she was probably not pregnant. He dosed her for the possible pox, but assured her that he had dosed all the lawmen too, not long before they died. “And they still perished as a direct result of their fornication,” he added, pleased with his little joke, so early in the day.

  “Tole you he won’t half-bad,” giggled the young whore, rubbing his head. “Now that you’ve seen what a morning looks like, what do you think, Doc?”

  “Why, Junebug, my lass, I find it just marvelous. Invigorating. I vaguely remember enjoying them in Saint Louis. Or maybe Cincinnati.”

  “’Junebug’?” asked Buck, awestruck by the girl and the well-traveled dentist.

  “Her name’s June, but she has flashes of brilliance.” He slapped her bottom. “For me now, all this early motion excites an uneasiness, which would be helped by some whiskey added to this coffee.”

  “Brandy all right?”

  “Far better, Sir. As that looks like good brandy, I may just have it neat.”

  As Melton poured, Junebug winked at Buck and with a nod, got him to move away from the fire. “Where y’all heading?” She plucked a wildflower and sniffed it as they walked.

  Buck’s tongue was stiff. “Uh, Santa Fe. Us, I mean. Them, uh, they is heading for north Texas. Some fort, they said.”

  She stopped and pushed the stem of the flower through one of Buck’s buttonholes. “There. That’s cute. Like you,” she grinned. “Wish I was going somewheres. Hey, you are blood-red in the face.”

  “Well, you made me,” he blushed. “Anyways, why’s that old drunk call you Junebug? They’s fat and green. Ain’t he thinking of lightning bugs? They’s the flashy ones.”

  “Maybe he is. As you might notice, Doc don’t have many sober thoughts. He did say, howsomever, that my eyes are big and bright green. Like a Junebug, Mister Smarty-pants.” She stopped and stared at him. “What do you think of ‘em?”

  Buck stared back for a moment, then dropped his head and stammered, “I think, I mean, I know they is the prettiest things I ever seen.”

  “Well, Mister Buck Watson, what a nice thing to say. And I barely had to drag it out of you.” She sauntered on again.

  He caught up and gave her back the little flower. “I can’t wear this. You know?” His eyes pleaded for understanding.

  She grinned and stuck it in her hair. “Oh yeah. Too manly.”

  “So, where is it you want to go?”

  “Anywheres but here or home. Old Butch will come back and be worse than ever. And he ain’t gonna forgive y’all beating him up, neither.”

  “Who?”

  “Butch Fetterman. The marshal. He was a butcher up to Cincinnati, is where he got the name. Come here on a boat with Doc, years ago. Meaner than my daddy, and used me just as bad. Never paid, neither.”

  Buck was thunderstruck. “Your own daddy? Not a step-daddy?”

  “My very own.” She pulled the flower from her hair and hurled it away. “Gin-drinking, preachy, smooth-talking, fancy-dressing… I still hate him. I’m glad… nothing. Never mind.”

  “Where was your mama?”

  “At the store. But she knew. Had to know, even before I told her. I mean, he was careful, didn’t want me pregnant, but that still meant a lot of poking, if you take my meaning.”

  Buck had no idea what she meant. “But, when you told your ma, what…?”

  “Hit me. Said I was a tramp, a thirteen-year-old tramp. Like my sister before me, she said.” She sniffled and wiped her nose on her sleeve. “Just didn’t want to lose him, I guess.”

  “Jesus Christ.” Buck shook his head.

  “Don’t say that,” she flared and punched his chest with a finger. “It ain’t that uncommon, Mister Know-it-all. Half the girls in these here whorehouses was used by family. Daddies, uncles, brothers, step-daddies, half-brothers, you name it. Why you think we run?”

  Buck’s mind was a black fog. “Well, I ain’t no ‘know-it-all.’ I didn’t know about this. Never heard such a thing. Well, one step-daddy, but the mother killed him. I think you ought to run again.”

  ***

  That afternoon, a small side-wheeler appeared, and passage was arranged for “as far upstream as the ol’ girl would go.”

  They went. Joining them were Junebug and a very mellow Dr. Thomason, with two worn suitcases and his medical bag.

  Chapter Thirty-six

  The stern-wheeler groaned and rumbled as she reversed engines near the bank. Fetterman saw the dozen or so Union infantrymen, Springfield rifles at the ready, watching for an ambush. “I’m alone and unarmed,” he yelled. As if they could hear him.

  Crewmembers were lowering the footbridge before the boat shuddered to a halt, yards from the muddy bank. Someone with a hailer blared from the wheelhouse, “Come aboard, long as you can work or pay. And want to go south.”


  ***

  “Pinkertons, huh? I heard of you, but ain’t ever met one before. Well, you called for me. What can I do for you?” Fetterman stared back at the two well-dressed men, seated at the dining table of the boat. Both wore revolvers under their waistcoats, and they had ordered everyone else out of the dining room.

  “It’s more like what we might do for you, Mister…?” The skinny short one spoke.

  “Fetterman. Butch Fetterman. You gonna pay my fare? Save me from the engine room? Mister…”

  “Maybe. That just might be the case. I’m Smith, he’s Jones.” He nodded at the tall heavy lidded man behind him.

  “Y’all ain’t no more Smith and Jones than I’m the President, but what’s your deal?”

  “We’re looking for some folks. There’s a reward on ‘em, and we can even pay for information. Good information, mind you. Some now, more after we confirm it, but maybe enough now to get you where you’re going. Which is?”

  “Look here. I’m a marshal. I was after some folks myself, and my horse threw me and bolted. Lost my gun, food, some teeth, and most of my money. Right now I’m looking for a dentist, then a horse and a gun. So who’re you looking for?”

  “Town marshal, or Federal?”

  “Town. Mason’s Landing, a few miles back upriver.”

  “No dentist there? You was heading away.”

  “There’s one, but I need a sober one, with gas. Now, you gonna give me a shot at that money, or not?”

  Smith looked at Jones, who shrugged. “All right. We ain’t sure who we’re looking for. Three soldiers disappeared with ah, some army money. May have stole it, may have been murdered and robbed. Army found three burned bodies. Might be them, might be some sort of half-nigger family that owned the place that was burned down on ‘em. There was also a couple of Rebs seen nearby, heading for New Orleans.”