Bury Them Deep in War Smoke

by Michael D George

  ‘Did you hear that cussing, Matthew?’ Heck asked his tall companion. ‘Sounds like we done woke up a ghost.’

  ‘That ain’t no ghost, Heck,’ Fallen hurriedly strode through the debris to where the shouting was coming from. Heck was close behind his superior. They looked down into the closest hole. All he could see was the muddy face of Miss Betty LaRue. ‘Howdy, Miss Betty.’

  Fallen rubbed his jaw as he studied the buxom woman. He had never seen her look anything but pristine. As mud dripped from her he had to grit his teeth not to burst out laughing.

  ‘Nice evening for a buggy ride, Miss Betty,’ he commented. She frowned at the tall lawman.

  ‘Did you kill him, Marshal?’ she asked holding her hands up to the grinning Fallen. ‘Pull me out of here before some short-sighted bastard fills this hole in.’

  Heck stood on his toes and whispered to Fallen. ‘She sure looks a mess, Matthew. Why that Ward hombre would want to come up here with a woman in that condition beats the tar out of me.’

  ‘I heard that, Longfellow,’ Miss Betty LaRue growled.

  Fallen leaned over and stretched out his arms. ‘Hold on to my hands and I’ll lift you out of there, ma’am.’

  ‘You didn’t answer me, Marshal,’ she said in a hushed tone. ‘Is that young maniac dead?’

  ‘He’s dead all right, Miss Betty,’ Matt Fallen leaned down, grabbed her wrists and pulled her back to the surface. She stood as mud dripped from her hair and dress. Miss Betty LaRue was a sorry sight by any standards.

  ‘It’s kinda messy down there, Marshal,’ Betty said as she hitched up her ripped and torn dress and began to follow the lawman back to where the deputy had retreated. She stopped beside Heck and stared down at the body of Jonas Ward. ‘That critter sweet talked me and I actually fell for it. There’s no fool like an old fool.’

  ‘You ain’t that old, Miss Betty,’ Heck tried to reassure her. ‘Hell, you ain’t anywhere near as old as my mother was when she up and died.’

  Fallen looked at the expression on the woman’s enraged face and could sense that she was close to start fighting. He sighed and touched his hat brim. ‘I’d best go round up my horse and your buggy and then we’ll escort you back to town, Miss Betty.’

  ‘Thank you, Marshal,’ she said.

  Heck moved towards her.

  ‘We’ve gotta escort you, Miss Betty,’ he said. ‘You ain’t in no state to drive yourself. Look at you. You’re a darn mess.’

  Miss Betty LaRue had been simmering but was now beginning to boil over. ‘I’m a mess?’

  ‘You sure are. Don’t fret none though, I’ll drive you, Miss Betty,’ Heck faced the notorious owner of the Crimson Heart and removed his hat. He then started to wipe the mud off her ample bosom with the tail of his scarf. ‘Let me clean you up a tad.’

  Miss Betty watched as Heck continued to stroke her wobbling breasts with his scarf. Her eyes narrowed and her eyebrows rose as she observed him happily removing the mud from her soft flesh. She cleared her throat in a vain bid to get Heck’s attention. He then used his thumb and index finger to pick off bits of grass and twigs from her ample bosom.

  ‘You got bits of all sorts stuck on you,’ he noted before closing one eye and squinting down her cleavage. ‘It wouldn’t surprise me if’n I don’t come across a branch or two down there, ma’am.’

  The deputy blissfully continued.

  ‘You don’t have to thank me, Miss Betty,’ Heck grinned happily, entranced by her feminine assets. ‘It’s a pleasure just being able to help a handsome lady like you get all cleaned up. This ain’t a chore and I’m happy to do it. I’m a special deputy and we can do all sorts of things.’

  Miss Betty traced a long fingernail down the side of his cheek and smiled, then leaned close to his left ear.

  ‘You and the marshal might have saved my life, Heck,’ she purred quietly, ‘but if you keep doing that I’m gonna geld you just like they done to the marshal’s horse. Savvy?’

  ‘I was just trying to help,’ he gulped.

  ‘Help yourself, you mean, Longfellow,’ she snorted.

  Heck stopped, stepped back and swallowed hard.

  ‘Yes, ma’am,’ he gulped. ‘I’d best go get your buggy.’

  Matt Fallen led his grey horse and the buggy into the cemetery, and looked at both of their faces in turn.

  ‘How’s everything going?’ he grinned.

  ‘Everything’s just dandy, Marshal,’ Miss Betty smiled as she started towards her buggy. ‘You can drive me home.’

  Heck waited for her to be out of earshot, and then whispered out of the corner of his mouth:

  ‘Whatever you do, don’t try to stroke the mud off her chest, Matthew,’ he warned. ‘It makes her plumb ornery.’