by Bill Brooks
He gave it one more moment, then tugged his hat down hard enough to bend his ears, and stomped out. Green and Cole walked to the door and watched as he mounted the flea-bitten mule, cursing to himself as he did so, then rode back out of town in the same direction as he’d come.
“He’s likely to get good and chafed,” Harve said, joining them, his arm around the waist of the woman. “That man don’t have no sense.”
“I can’t wait to get back to Texas,” Teddy Green said, shaking his head. “Men in Texas don’t ride around in their altogether and they don’t insult women. Kansas is a raw and untamed place, godless as any I’ve yet seen.”
“Maybe it’s all this nothingness they got out here,” Harve said. “Maybe so much nothingness makes folks crazed.”
The woman, Naomi, said: “That’s twice in three days that I’ve seen a crazy man. First there was that man wearing a string of ears around his neck, then today my lover comes riding in naked as a jaybird. I believe he must be on dope or something.”
It got their attention, the part about the man with the ear necklace.
Chapter Thirteen
Naomi said a tall, handsome stranger had come through a few days earlier and had stopped at Big Mary’s and drunk a bottle of whiskey and offered her $20 to give him a bath and scrub his back and wash his hair.
“Twenty dollars to give him a bath?” Teddy Green asked incredulously.
“Yes,” Naomi said. “At first I thought he was fooling. Most cowboys want to buy my services, but the last thing they want is a bath. Fact is, most of them would rather shoot off their big toes than take a bath. Whiskey and fun, that’s what they come here for, not baths. But this man wanted a bath and so I gave him one. For twenty dollars, wouldn’t you?”
“I surely would not,” Harve said. “I wouldn’t give a man a bath for a thousand dollars.”
“Well, that’s you, honey, that ain’t me. Out here, money is as scarce as trees. Somebody offers you twenty dollars for anything, you take it. He offered and I took it. Hell, he could have had the whole package for five … bath and all.”
Ned Redbird stirred from his position on the pool table and sat up again. “A man can’t get no decent sleep any more,” he groused. “Might as well go cut me a willow pole and go fishing.”
“Where you going to find a willow pole when there’s not a tree to be seen in any direction for a hundred miles?” Teddy Green asked, his mood still sour over the encounter with Clay Allison. “I didn’t even see a creek for any fish to be in.”
“Well, there is a pond about a mile from here that’s got fish in it and I got a willow pole I brought with me from Ohio. I just don’t know where I left it. But if I can find it, I’m going fishing.”
“Go right ahead, mister,” Teddy Green said. “Maybe you are better at catching fish than you are at catching criminals and keeping the laws of decency. This woman says there was a man through here a couple of days ago … tall man wearing a necklace of ears. You see this fellow, see which way he went when he left?”
Ned Redbird scratched himself all over and muttered he was feeling gamy.
“Well, did you?” Teddy Green repeated.
“Yeah, I saw somebody riding a big white horse. I didn’t see if he was wearing ears around his neck or not. I never seen a horse that big afore. Must have been eighteen hands tall if he was an inch. All white, except he had a black tail and mane. And that feller’s saddle was covered in silver. Had more silver stuck to it than what they had down at the bank before it got robbed and burned to the ground.”
“In what direction did he go, that’s all I care about,” Teddy Green said. “I don’t care how tall his horse was or how much silver he had on his saddle or even how much money there was in that bank.”
“Well, I had fifteen dollars in that bank when it got robbed and burned down,” Ned Redbird said bitterly. “It was my life’s savings. Those dirty, ornery Canadian River boys came through and robbed it and burned it and I’m once more broker than a hard-shell Baptist.”
“Canadian River boys?” Teddy Green said. “I’ve never heard of them.”
“Well, you’re lucky you ain’t. They’re the meanest bunch of yahoos I’ve ever seen in my life. They shot everybody in the bank, then robbed it, then burned it down.”
“Where were you when all this was going on?” Teddy Green said. “You’re supposed to be the law.”
Ned Redbird scratched at a spot inside his shirt, then withdrew his fingers and checked them. “I was fishing. And it’s a good thing I was, or I might have lost more than just my life’s savings. Those Canadian River boys murder any lawmen they see just for the fun of it. Them boys is all ’breeds … Mexicans and half-Injuns and coloreds … and they hate lawmen, white lawmen especially.”
“You’re a disgrace to that badge,” Teddy Green said.
“Here, you want it?” Ned Redbird unpinned it from his cowhide vest and held it forth.
“All I want from you is to tell me which way that man on the tall horse went when he left here.”
Ned Redbird pointed with his nose. “That way, south,” he said. “And good riddance to him and good riddance to the Canadian River boys as well. I hope not to see hide nor hair of any of them. Fact is, if I can save me another fifteen dollars, I’m going back to Ohio. There is nothing out here on this frontier but grass, people who live in mud houses, and wild gangs of thieves and murderers.”
“Maybe it’s best you do,” Harve said. “How did you get to be a lawman in this burg in the first place, scared of your own shadow as you are?”
Ned Redbird looked duly contrite for a moment. Then Naomi said: “He took it off of Two-Finger Gus.”
“Who’s Two-Finger Gus, hon?” Harve asked.
“He was my common-law husband and owner of this whole durn’ town and everything in it till he passed on. He was also the mayor, postmaster … though we don’t have a post office yet … justice of the peace, and town marshal. ’Course, a town like this doesn’t need much law … there’s only eight folks lives here … was eleven but three got shot and killed during the bank robbery. That’s how Gus met his end, fighting those Canadian River boys. They shot him full of holes and left him out on the street dead as any dog.” At this, Naomi spilled a tear from her eye and Harve was quick to wipe it dry with a fancy red neckerchief.
“Now, now, hon, take it easy. I’m sure those Canadian River boys will try and rob the wrong bank and end up swinging from ropes before too long. Not to worry.”
“Well, how long do you intend on standing around comforting this woman?” Teddy Green said. “I’d like to get moving. What else can you tell us about this feller that had the ear necklace?”
She sniffled and laid her gaze on the Ranger like she was a cow looking at new grass. “He had good skin,” she said. “I seen that when I was giving him his bath.”
“I don’t care about the good skin he had,” Green snapped. “I want to know, did he tell you anything, where he was going, was he chasing somebody, anything like that?”
Naomi blinked several times, then said: “I remember asking him what was a fine, handsome man like himself doing ’way out here at the edge of nowhere, and he said he was after a woman, a lady friend of his, and he thought for sure she’d come through here not long ago. Yes, I believe those were pretty near his exact words.”
“Let me ask you something,” Cole said. “Didn’t you think it was a little strange, giving a bath to a man wearing a necklace made of human ears?”
She looked at Cole then like he’d just asked her if she knew how to fly to the moon. “Well, he wasn’t wearing them at the time. He only wore them when he came into town and when he left again.”
“Fine, fine,” Teddy Green said. “Enough of this jawbreaking. Let’s get moving.”
Cole looked at Harve. “You staying here with Naomi?” he asked.
�
�No, sir, I’m not one to quit a job before it’s finished.” He turned to her and said: “You’ll just have to wait on me, hon, and hope I get this way again, and if I do, I’ll pay you to give me a bath and I won’t be wearing no string of ears around my neck, either. How’ll that be?”
“I can’t make no promises,” she said. “The wind could come through and blow me away, or who knows? Those Canadian River boys could come back and steal me and take me off to their hide-out and make me their slave and who knows what all. You want me, you better take me with you now.”
“Well, what about your boyfriend, the naked feller?” Harve said. “Won’t he be broken-hearted if I was to take you away with me?”
“Him!” She snorted. “He’s nothing but a dope fiend and a married man to boot. What future would I have with someone like that? I’d be better off marrying a cow.”
* * * * *
Teddy Green and John Henry Cole were already riding the south road when Harve caught up to them. He had a wide grin on his face.
“Boys, that’s some woman, ain’t she? Last woman I knew like that who had pretty white hair and a sweet smile like Miss Naomi’s was Squirrel Tooth Alice, who is now married to a Calvinist and lives a stark and pious existence. You’d never know it to look at her that she’d bedded about every rannihan that ever rode up the Chisholm Trail.”
“I’m not interested in your experiences with womanhood, Mister Ledbettor,” Teddy Green said. “It’s not a decent thing for a man to discuss his doings in public, even if it is with whores.”
“Suits me to a tee. I just thought it might help pass the miles, I was to tell you about my experiences with Squirrel Tooth Alice, but if you’d rather just ride along and be bored to death, that’s fine by me.”
“I’d rather be bored plum out of my hat than to listen to a man discuss his private doings with a woman,” Teddy Green concluded.
They rode for another few hours like that, hearing nothing more than the creak of saddle leather and the plod of their animals’ hoofs and the swish of prairie grass when the wind washed over it.
“You thinking about Gypsy Davy?” Cole said to Teddy Green, who looked deep in thought, his brow furrowed, his gaze fixed straight ahead, where there was little more than grass and horizon and you could see fifty miles in any direction.
“I know where Gypsy Davy is,” Green said. “Ahead of us somewhere.”
“Then what?” Cole asked.
“What I don’t know is where Colorado Charley Utter and his bunch are.” Green turned his attention to Cole for a brief moment. “You know they’re out there somewhere. Thing is, where?”
“It’s something to think about,” Cole agreed.
“You know what I’m concerned about?” Harve said. Before either Green or Cole could answer, he added: “Why that Gypsy Davy didn’t cut the ears off Naomi after she gave him his bath?”
“Maybe he’s got no more room on his string,” Green said irritably. “Maybe his string is too full and he just couldn’t fit another pair of ears on it.”
“Hadn’t thought of that,” Harve said. “But you could be right.”
Two crows flew out of nowhere and crossed overhead, casting their winged shadows over the grass.
“That’s a bad sign,” Harve said, looking up, “seeing two crows together like that.”
“Who says?” Green inquired. “I’ve seen lots and lots of crows and I’ve never known it to be a bad sign. Fact is, there is even an entire tribe of Indians named Crows. Fierce warriors known for their strong medicine. A handsome people, too.”
“I don’t know about none of that,” Harve said. “All I know is every time I’ve seen two crows flying close together without cawing and on a cloudless day such as this, trouble has soon followed.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Green said, and spurred his horse on ahead, as though he didn’t want to hear any more about crows and bad signs and Harve’s encounters with women.
In the meantime Cole’s own ears were getting a little sore from so much talk. All the palaver about crows and whores and bad men didn’t take his mind off the fact that ahead of them somewhere was a woman he thought he was in love with, one who was running from something terrible, and with a man Cole much disliked. It was a bitter pill for him to swallow, knowing that she had sought out Tom Feathers for help. But then, Cole was beginning to realize there was a lot about her that he didn’t understand. He didn’t want to believe that he’d let himself be fooled or that everything he thought he knew about Ella Mims was a lie.
They rode until the dusk chased them into a dry camp beside a stream and settled in for the night. Off in the distance you could hear the rumble of thunder. The plains were like that. One minute the weather was peaceful and the next it was at war with you. There were no trees, no sort of shelter if a storm did strike them. Maybe Ledbettor had been correct in saying that the two crows were a portent of bad things to come. Cole had seen men drowned in rivers, trapped by sudden wildfires swept by high winds, and hammered until bleeding by hailstones the size of apples. But the worst thing he had ever seen was an outrider struck by lightning. It had killed him and his pony in a heartbeat and fused his spurs together.
The rumble of thunder came closer, as if it were marching right in their direction. Cole watched streaks of lightning snake through the sky off to the west and thought of the outrider who had been dozing in his saddle one minute and struck dead the next instant. The lightning had also set his hair and shirt afire. Then he felt the ground rumble and knew they were in for it.
Chapter Fourteen
“There’s a cyclone coming, boys! Run for cover!” Harve was already out of his soogan, shouting at them above the wind, its roar like a fast moving train.
“Damnation!” Teddy Green swore. “This is the most godless and inhospitable country I’ve yet to be in!” At that instant the wind snatched his bowler and carried it off into the darkness and driving rain.
“There’s no place to run!” Cole shouted. “No place to hide, except we immerse ourselves in that creek!”
“That’s good enough for me!” Harve cawed, and dived in, belly first.
The water was cold, but they hugged it while the lightning, wind, and rain rushed over them, the wind growing so loud they could barely hear each other.
“The horses!” Teddy Green shouted.
“Nothing we can do!” Cole yelled in return.
“My ears feel like they’re exploding!” Harve cried. Bolts of lightning struck the ground all around them, then the rain turned to hail the size of prairie chicken eggs and pounded down while the creek water churned and frothed over them.
“Good Lord! Look at that, would ya!” Harve cried during a strong series of lightning flashes that lit up the prairie in a strange ghostly light. Through squinted eyes Cole saw a gray funnel cloud not a hundred yards distant, their horses running ahead of it, but it was plain to see in that moment that they weren’t going to outrun the funnel of wind. Then the darkness closed in again and the roar made it impossible to hear one another as they clung to the muddy sides of the creek under the assault of hailstones and a pounding rain and waited.
In minutes it was over, except for the rain. They climbed out of the creek, soaked to the skin, and stood there, trying to see into the dark.
“You reckon it took the horses?” Harve said.
They listened for a time without hearing anything more than the claps of thunder as the storm receded into the darkness.
“Nothing we can do until morning,” Teddy Green said. “It’s wet and we can’t even find a tree to build a fire. Damnable place, this Kansas is.”
“I wonder if that cyclone went through Sweet Jesus and blew all the buildings away?” Harve said. “I wonder if it blew Naomi away? She said a big wind might come through and blow her away, or that the Canadian River boys might come and steal her. Maybe she’s one of those
people who can tell the future.”
“That wind took my hat,” Teddy Green said. “That was a pretty good hat. I bought it just before I left Amarillo. I used to wear a Stetson, but I sort of liked the way that bowler looked on me when I put it on. Now it’s gone, taken by that cyclone along with our horses and every blasted thing we had.”
They stood, alone and defenseless, drenched like kittens someone had tossed in the creek.
Teddy Green’s wrath was plain in his croaky voice. “Come daylight, I’m going to go look and see if I can find my hat and whatever else that wind swept away. I don’t like going about bareheaded.”
“Could be we’ll find Naomi, too,” Harve said. “Along with your hat and our horses. She might have gotten blown clear to China, and maybe so did your hat.”
“Mister Ledbettor,” Green said, “I think it’s time you passed around that whiskey flask you keep in your pocket. I’m terribly wet and cold and it’s going to be a long night without a fire to dry our clothes. I’m by nature a temperate man on most occasions, but I reckon the good Lord will forgive me for drinking some of that devil water.”
Harve gladly pulled his whiskey flask from his pocket and passed it around and they were for once mighty grateful for the whiskey. It was small comfort, but comfort nonetheless.
After a long, restless night, day broke with a line of silver clouds off to the east and they took survey of their situation.
“Good Lord,” Teddy Green said. “That wind blew away our entire camp. Why, we don’t even have a saddle between us, nor a gun or rifle. Even our footwear has been blow away!”
It was true. The cyclone had plucked them clean as chickens at a Mormon picnic. Even the grass was cut like a gigantic scythe had bored along, inches above the ground, and they could follow the cyclone’s path like a crooked green road.
They began walking, following the path laid out before them. They had little choice if they were to find some of their gear or their horses. They were in sad shape, worse than beggars, wearing nothing but the wet clothes they had had on when the cyclone hit. They were bareheaded and barefooted and without weapons or horses. They would have been easy prey for road agents or renegades. Fortunately it was an empty land, devoid of much life. In three hours of walking, they didn’t see as much as a single antelope or coyote.