“Just one, a nineteen year-old, I thought he had a gun.”
“And you’ve probably never forgiven yourself for it either.”
“No, I haven’t.”
“And that’s why you swore you’d never kill again?”
“Yes, that’s true.”
“But Carmen, he forced you to do it, he made you become the shark. You want my opinion, you had to kill him, he wanted you to do it. And that teenager you killed when you were younger, you have to let that go, if you don’t, it will eat away at you for the rest of your life.”
“It’s never an easy thing to take a life.”
“I know but we are mortal, we’re all going to die one way or another, that teenager should’ve never reached into his pocket, then he’d still be alive.”
“I took away everything he was ever gonna be.”
“You did what you had to do, if he had a gun, he could’ve killed you. You were a cop and you only killed one person, how’d that happen?”
“Ever since then, I always shoot to wound.”
“I don’t think I could ever get used to that.”
CHAPTER NINE: THE OUTLAW PRINCETON WRIGHT
Marshall watches the man in the bearskin wearing a black cowboy hat, he sees that he is armed, a rifle slung across his back and two handguns on his hips, his hair is dirty and black, his skin is dark from the sun, his eyes are blue. “I’m Detective Tumbler; this is my friend Chester Swanson. We’re looking for a man that lived in these woods.”
“Now my name’s Princeton Wright and my business isn’t searching for people, I’m looking for treasure.”
“Something tells me you haven’t been successful.”
“You can laugh, everybody laughs, Princeton’s crazy, he’s been out in the sun too long, you gotta lock up your daughters around him, lock up the whiskey while you’re at it. I am the punchline to many a joke, sir.”
“We’re not here to interfere with your endeavors. We’re looking for a man, wears a brown suit, green vest, brown fedora. He’s a carpenter and a killer, judging by the tracks, he and his people left here two days ago. Have you seen him?”
“I’m one of those people that has to know, what’s in it for me? I mean, if I help you, then you should be willing to help me. There was this band of outlaws see, end of the nineteenth century, they knew they were on borrowed time, the country was changing, they had marshals after them, it was just a matter of time and sure enough, the next week they were captured. But they hid their plunder in a cave; the map was handed down to me. I’ve been trying to make sense of it, it’s a genuine mystery, I thought I finally found the right cave but the treasure’s not there.”
“Are you afraid of what you found in there?” Princeton looks at Marshall curiously; he tilts his head to the left.
“It takes a lot to scare a man like me, I’m like the hillbilly Indian Jones, we even share the same fear, my only fear.”
“So you liken yourself after a fictional character?”
“There ain’t no real people to look up to anymore, detective.”
“You still haven’t told me if you’ve seen the man I’m looking for.”
“I help you if you help me.”
“I would not be opposed to helping you if we had the time but this man is dangerous and he’s always on the move, if we stop, our window will close. No offense, but what proof do you have that there really is any treasure?”
“I’m a descendant of one of the outlaws I told you about, they called him Handsome Hank back then, the maps, they’s been in my family for three generations now. The only problem is the verbiage, it refers to places that don’t exist anymore, parts of it are in a code that I don’t understand. I was merely proceeding by process of elimination, and in the end, it hasn’t gotten me any closer to discovering where they hid it.”
“If we agree to help you, which my partner and I will have to talk about, how do I know that you know anything about the man that I seek?”
“I can give you a taste and if you know him at all, then you’ll know my story is true.”
“We’re waiting to hear it.”
“On my search for this treasure, the lost treasure of Handsome Hank and his gang, I have met some strange and interesting characters. When I met them in the woods, they tried to get the jump on me but this version of Princeton Wright comes armed with two Colts and a Springfield rifle, those primitive bastards must have shit their pants when I drew on them. But I was merely after kicks and boy did they deliver. This man you’re looking for spoke to all of us in the woods one night, he passed a jug around and god damn it if after I drank it, I didn’t see all kinds of peculiar visions, he talked about cities being destroyed and I could see them, shit I even thought I saw dead relatives of mine walking around in the woods, even old Handsome Hank made an appearance but that’s not the strangest part.”
“How can it get any stranger?” Chester asks.
“Oh, you haven’t heard anything yet. This man you’re looking for told us about the leviathan and I’ll be damned if as soon as he said its name, that big old serpent-dragon thing appeared, knocking trees down, breathing fire. He said one day it would be unleashed on the general populace but they would be spared. Now with my general fear of all things reptile, snakes in particular, I will admit I was overcome with wonder and took the biggest fright of my life. If I had a weak heart, the sight of that thing would have done me in, dropped dead from a heart attack on the spot. He brought out a little wooden girl and said she would need to be sacrificed so the serpent would be satisfied, he had a group he referred to as bears that knelt before him, all cult-like and took the little doll, then they went out into the forest and that serpent disappeared.”
“You’re sure that you saw a serpent?” Marshall asks.
“Hell, yes, I saw it, granted I was on a hallucinogen at the time but I saw it moving in the night, the next day I saw its path, trees splintered, part of the woods was burnt to a crisp.”
“Why did they leave you behind?”
“That’s an excellent question, mister. I’m the type of personality that people can only tolerate for a short amount of time, I’m an exile and an outcast, I always will be. I have no place in society, the things that they value I could care less about. Princeton Wright is his own man, beholden to no one, I never intended on sticking it out with those hippies anyway, I’m a man of action, I’m not a man of peace.”
“He is many things but a man of peace is not one of them. And those followers that went after that girl, he called them forbearers, not bears. Was there a group of three of them, a family possibly, that lived in a cave?”
“Now that you mention it there were, but if I tell you any more, I’ll be of no use to you.”
“You’ve all ready told me everything I needed to know.”
“No, not everything.”
“What’s with the bearskin?”
“I do what I have to do to survive. Plus the bearskin tends to tell people to back the fuck off; Princeton is not a man to be trifled with. Not to mention, it’s winter, a man has to stay warm. City folk like you want one, I can get you one, do you know how hard it is for a novice to skin a bear?”
“I have no idea,” Chester responds.
“I’ve had years of practice. I’ve caught or eaten nearly every animal in the woods at some point or another. You folks want bearskins, well god damn it, we’ll get bearskins. But if you want more information, two things have to happen. You are a detective and you know this map is written in code, so number one, you must help me decipher it, then I can find the treasure on my own. Until you do so, I will accompany you and provided that you, number two, feed me meals during the duration, I will continue to feed you information on this man that you seek.”
“Let me consult with my colleague,” Marshall responds, he walks away with Chester; Princeton turns to face a tree and draws his gun again and again. “Trees don’t shoot back,” Marshall says.
“I’ve got to practice my spe
ed, I’m a quick-draw artist and a crack shot, I have a wide variety of skills, sir. Oh, and I forgot to mention, if you mean to find a family in a cave, well, I know every cave in Missouri like I had a blueprint for every one of them, I’m just saying.”
“Duly noted,” Marshall says as he continues walking with Chester until they are out of earshot.
“This could be the cowboy figure that’s supposed to be with us,” Chester says.
“He could also be a spy sent by the man in brown.”
“I don’t know that we can trust anything that he says.”
“I watched him closely, he wasn’t lying. I can tell.”
“The man’s a crack head, he may not literally be on crack but you know what I mean, he’s a crazy backwoods redneck.”
“I’m not sure that he’s really crazy.”
“He said he saw a huge lizard in the forest.”
“While he was on hallucinogens provided by the man in brown.”
“And he saw his dead relatives.”
“He was under the effects of a powerful compound, most likely slipped into the water being passed around in that jug. It would explain some of the stories I’ve heard.”
“He can’t be trusted.”
“I know, I don’t trust him. We can keep him around until he’s given up everything he knows.”
“He said he wouldn’t talk unless you helped him decipher that map.”
“He is the type of man that would talk to a rock if you sat him next to one, he’ll tell us what he knows. And if I have to, I can crack that map for him.”
“It’s your call, if he gets out of line; just say the word and I’ll snap his neck.”
“Fair enough,” Marshall says, they both approach Princeton, he puts a rolled cigarette in his mouth.
“So, what’s it going to be fellas?”
“You help us and we’ll help you, deal?”
“You made a wise choice. I didn’t mention there are backwoods meth heads too, trailers full of ‘em that don’t take kindly to outsiders. It’s like a whole ‘nother world around those people. You’ll be safe with me, though, I’m not one of them, but I can speak their language. Without me around though, who knows, they tend to turn hostile towards city folk.”
“Can you give me the names of the men who were in this gang of outlaws that you are descended from?”
“What do you need their names for?”
“I thought you wanted me to help you find that treasure?”
“I just need for you to decipher that map.”
“If I know their names, I believe I can help you.”
“I guess I can give you their names but you’re going to have to write them down.” Marshall takes out his notepad and a pen.
“Go ahead.”
“Handsome Hank Wright, Jack Dolon, Jeremiah Wilkins, Ernest Gobbins, and Billy Callahan. They were all hell raisers; they robbed banks and trains all over the state, throughout the rest of the Midwest, clear up to Michigan.”
“Look over the list and make sure their names are spelled correctly.”
“Shit, it’s like I’m in class, I never cared much for school. Yes, they’re all spelled right.”
“Now we shake hands and you’ve got a deal.”
“We can each cut our hands and signify a pact with blood,” Preston says as he pulls out his hunting knife and holds it to his palm.
“I don’t believe that’s necessary. As a general rule, I try to avoid blood borne pathogens, not to say that you’re carrying any.”
“You are a strange man, Detective Tumbler, but I like it.”
They all get in the car and Marshall pulls up to a diner and parks in the parking lot, Princeton grabs the door handle. “Not so fast there, slick,’ Marshall tells him.
“What’s the matter?”
“We are walking into civilization; did you really think you could walk in there with that bearskin on and those guns you’re carrying?”
“I suppose they would cause a fright to any women or children.”
“That bearskin smells like bearshit,” Chester adds.
“I don’t comment on how you smell, god damn city folk looking down on people like me. Sure I haven’t bathed in a week or two, maybe three, but I’ve been a little preoccupied, I’ve got priorities after all,” Princeton explains as takes his bearskin off, revealing a black suit coat that is tattered around the sleeves and the collar, he’s wearing a white button-up shirt with the collar open though the shirt has faded into a discolored yellow hue, he removes his holster and puts it on the floorboard of the back of the car, then he sets his rifle across the back of the floorboard too next to his black boots.
“Christ, man, those can’t be visible in the car,” Marshall says, he gets out of the car and grabs a blanket out of the trunk, he puts the blanket over Princeton’s guns.
“How come you’re carrying your gun in?” Princeton asks Marshall.
“My holster isn’t visible for one and I have a permit to carry it.”
“People still get permits? This is Missouri, if you’re not armed; you are at a considerable disadvantage in all matters of importance.”
“I’m starving,” Chester says. “Enough talk, let’s eat.”
“It’d take a full year for a guy like you to starve to death,” Princeton retorts.
“It would take me two seconds to pick you up and throw you so far, you’d think you were back in the nineteenth century where you belong.”
“I like this rapport we have, it entertains me.” They exit the vehicle, Marshall leads the way, they seat themselves as the sign says and wait for the red-headed waitress to come over.
“Can I get you boys something to drink?” she asks.
“Boys, we’re strapping men, young lady, what’s your name?” Princeton asks as he peers at her nametag. “Chelsea, why I’ve known many a woman of ill repute with that name, you seem like a pleasant girl though. It just goes to show that names do not define us, darling.”
“You can just ignore him,” Marshall tells her. “I’ll take a coffee. Chester, what do you want?”
“I’ll take a coffee and an orange juice,” Chester responds.
“Princeton, tell our fine waitress what you want to drink.”
“I’ll have a coffee,” Princeton responds, “and a glass of ice, no water.”
“Do you need cream and sugar?” she asks them.
“Yes, please,” Marshall says.
“I don’t need any ma’am, I like my coffee black, just like my soul,” Princeton replies. Chelsea’s eyes widen after he’s spoken.
“We’ll take three menus as well,” Marshall requests.
“I’ll be right back,” Chelsea says.
“This seems like a fine dining establishment, napkins on the silverware and everything.”
“High standards, you have there,” Marshall responds, Chelsea returns with their drinks and three menus, the men look them over. “Order whatever you want,” Marshall tells Chester. “You better not get crazy,” he warns Princeton.
“Too late for that, my friend. Don’t worry though, I’m a cheap date. I’m a bacon and eggs type of fella, for breakfast that is. Now skinning a pig is considerably easier than skinning a bear, as you can no doubt imagine. The only thing that bugs me is everyone says that pigs are smart animals, it’s a shame they taste so fucking good. A grilled pork chop with some homemade mashed potatoes and an apple cobbler, that’s enough to make a man settle down and get married right there. Now chickens are dumb and they taste good, I’m not sure about the intelligence of cows but put a man on death row and god damn if the bastard doesn’t order a steak and French fried potatoes every time. Speaking of pigs, big fella, do you eat pork or have you sworn it off on account of being Muslim?”
“What kind of racist shit is that? Because I’m black, you think I’m Muslim?”
“I wont’ begrudge a man his religion. I have no problem with what people believe in, that’s what this country was founded on; believe in a
big giant bird in the sky for all I care.”
“I’m not Muslim, I’m a Baptist.”
“Baptists are the ones with all the singin’ and the clappin’, I don’t believe in God in a traditional sense but I think there’s a heaven and hell but not because the Bible says it. You ever read the Bible?” Princeton asks.
“Yes, I have,” Chester responds.
“As have I,” Marshall declares.
“The Bible’s got all kinds of fucked up shit in it. People living past their natural time, rape, murder, incest, it’s all there. I don’t know how a man or a woman can read that and believe any of it could be true. It’s as true as a fairy tale, a book written to subjugate the masses, get them believin’ in shit that never happened, in people that never existed. Now Jesus is a cat I’ll never understand, he’s a kid in the temple and then poof he’s an adult, where the hell was he in all of those years in between? And then you’re going to preach love and treating each other right, might as well preach trust while you’re at it, it’s just as useless, performing miracles that a common crook could do if so inclined, letting people beat the holy shit out of him and kill him in the worst possible way without lifting a finger. Then he rises from the dead but only a select few see him, I’ve heard that whole song and dance before too. I believe there’s a place where the good people go and a place where the bad people go but no one is ruling over either one of them and if there ever was, well they’re gone now. There’s no one there to judge you in the end, your soul goes where it belongs, your actions in life dictate that. I firmly believe I will be in hell and when I get there they better give me a wide berth, ‘cause for me it will all be fornication and hellfire.”
“Keep your voice down,” Marshall tells him.
“What you’re saying is offensive,” Chester says, as he grips his coffee cup tightly, it looks like a children’s tea set in his hand.
“I figured a big fella like you would have thick skin. Why do you care what a crazy degenerate like me believes anyway? The worms will be in me, just like they’ll be in you, then we’ll see who’s right, assuming I go into the ground in the first place. They may hang me; I may end up in ditch riddled with bullets, who knows? I may choose to be cremated, have my ashes placed in a whorehouse so I’ll still be where the action is.”
Detective Tumbler and the Man in Brown (Detective Tumbler Trilogy Book 2) Page 11