A couple of times a week, he met with Chen out behind Hunter’s for some lessons in Chinese wrestling. Maybe less athletic than Shoshone wrestling, it seemed to be mainly based on not giving your opponent a solid target to strike, and twisting thumbs or fingers to bring a man to his knees.
One Saturday night, a cowhand with too much whiskey in him had reached across the bar to grab a bottle. He was new to the area and didn’t yet have a tab, and had run out of cash. Chen brought an empty beer mug down across the back of the man’s hand, striking at a sensitive place on the wrist, which stopped the man in motion. Chen then brought the mug up and into the man’s face, catching him in the nose.
While the man stood, his hand hanging awkwardly in the air because he had lost all feeling in it, and the other hand up at his nose while blood streamed down and he blinked away tears, Chen said, “You leave.”
Jack stepped up behind the man. “You heard him. Vamoose.”
The man nodded, and without a word turned and left.
Chen grinned at Jack. “Quick, not strong.”
The second week of September, Jack rode out to the middle of the valley to visit with the farmers. He saw them ride into church every Sunday and sometimes got a quick hello from them, and a silent stare from Nina, but he hadn’t really talked with any of them for a couple of months.
The Carter cabin was now fully built, with smoke drifting from a stone chimney. Carter himself was out front, sawing at firewood when Jack rode up.
“The place looks good,” Jack said.
Carter looked up at him, a buck saw in one hand. “I learned me a few things about cabin buildin’ over the years.”
Jack nodded.
Carter said, “How’s things in town?”
“Quiet. Not so quiet on Saturday nights,” he grinned, and Carter returned the grin, “but generally quiet.”
They heard the sound of the door knob turning, and looked to see Nina standing in the doorway. Carter said, “Maybe I’d best take a little break. Get me a drink of water. Been workin’ up a sweat.”
Jack nodded. “The day has turned off warm.”
Carter strolled away from Jack, toward the cabin. Nina reluctantly stepped aside to let her father past.
Jack nudged his horse ahead until he was only a few feet from the door, and he reached up to touch the brim of his sombrero in the cheating tip-of-the-hat most cowhands used when greeting a lady. “Good to see you, Nina.”
She nodded.
He said, “I miss you, you know.”
She closed her eyes in a silent sigh. “Jack, I don’t want to go into this again.”
“Nina, I made a mistake. I admit that. But can’t you find it in your heart to forgive? Even just a little?”
“It’s not that you made a mistake, Jack. It’s that you revealed a side of your character that I didn’t know was there. A side I really don’t think I could live with.”
He was about to say, People can change. And yet, he didn’t really believe they did. People might learn things and as such alter their behavior a little, but they really couldn’t change their nature. So he said nothing.
She said, “My father talked to me long about the hazards of being with your kind of man.”
“My kind?” He felt his ire rising again.
“What he calls a gunhawk. I didn’t really know what he was talking about until the two of you fought.”
“Doesn’t that name apply to him, too?”
She nodded. “But I was talking about building a life with you. Bringing children into this world with you. I don’t know that I want a gunhawk to be the father of my children.”
He didn’t know what to say about that. This girl who saw him so clearly, moreso than anyone in his own family, didn’t approve of him. Talk about a blow to your self esteem.
She said, “I think you’d best be going, Jack.”
He nodded. “I think you’re right.”
Without another word, he turned his horse and started away down the trail.
Carter stepped out of the cabin. “Don’t you think you might have been a little hard on him?”
“What? You were eavesdropping?”
He shrugged. “It’s not that big a cabin.”
“It’s what you wanted, wasn’t it? You didn’t want me with a gunhawk. Well, now I’m not. You two both proved your point very successfully.” And she pushed past him and back into the cabin, and slammed the door shut.
Jack had dinner at the ranch a few times. Josh and Dusty, long finished moving the herd from one section of range to another, rode into town once in a while for breakfast with their brother. They were also present every Saturday night.
One such night, a cowhand with a few too many glasses of whiskey actually swung a fist at Chen, even though Chen was old enough to be his great-grandfather. Chen merely stepped aside, doing his wind-thing, and the cowhand’s fist slammed into the wall and he broke a knuckle. Jack escorted the man down to Granny Tate.
It was the fourth week of September as Jack sat on Hunter’s porch, watching the weekly stage roll in. In his hand was a tin cup filled with trail coffee. Walt threw him a wave, then hopped down and opened the stage door. The first passenger off the stage was in a brown jacket and matching vest and derby. His hair was red, and Jack would have recognized his freckled face anywhere.
“Darby,” Jack said, rising to his feet. He called out, “Darby!”
He set his coffee on the bench and strode over to the where the stage had come to a stop, in front of Shapleigh’s.
Darby Yates broke into a big smile. “Jacko.”
They took each other in a big hug that saw them spinning around, first one lifted from the ground, then the other. Then they stepped back and Darby raised his fists playfully and Jack snapped a couple light boxing jabs into Darby’s shoulder.
Then Darby stepped back. “Look at you. A full-fledged cowboy. Right out of a dime novel.”
“What brings you here?”
“I got your letter. I had to see it for myself. The little town and the valley that had so captured the heart of my best friend.”
One porter from Shapleigh’s climbed up on the stage and handed down Darby’s trunk.
“Come on,” Jack said. “I want you to meet Hunter, and have a taste of the coldest beer east of the Divide. West of it, for that matter.”
They stepped into Hunter’s. Hunter gave the man a handshake. “Let me get both of you a beer from the cellar.”
Jack and Darby took a table, and Hunter returned with two cold mugs of beer.
“The keg’s fresh from Saint Lou,” Hunter said. “The Plank Road Brewery. Some of the best around.”
Darby took off his derby and dropped it to the table.
“Darby,” Jack said. “What an incredible surprise.”
He shrugged. “I thought about writing you that I was coming, but the way the mail moves out here, I figured I’d be here before you got the letter.”
Jack nodded with a smile. “True.”
“In fact, I was halfway here when the porter on the train handed me your second letter. It was dated more’n a month ago.”
It then occurred to Jack what the date was. September 24. “Darby, what’re you doing here? I mean, why aren’t you in school? The semester must have begun three weeks ago.”
He nodded. “That it did. But I’ve been doing some thinking. A lot of thinking, in fact. I said goodbye to my family and got on the train, but then I kept right on going. Booked passage to Cheyenne, then hopped the stage here.”
“How long can you stay?”
Darby shrugged. “As long as you can have me, I guess. I have no plans. And I brought you a little present.”
He reached into his trunk and pulled out a bottle of Kentucky whiskey.
Jack broke into a grin. “It’s going to be a long night.”
Darby nodded. “But a good one.”
They drank into the night. Hunter joined them. They slept late into the morning, Darby on the top bunk and
Jack on the bottom.
Jack was awakened by the door opening and Chen stepping in with two cups of coffee.
“For you both,” he said.
Jack sat up on the bunk and took a cup of coffee. Darby said, “Could someone shut the door? It’s bright in here?”
“No wonder,” Chen said. “You two drank an entire bottle of whiskey last night. Drink your coffee.”
Jack and Darby had both poured down the whiskey the night before, but Darby drank three glasses to every one of Jack’s. Like he usually did. And he usually paid for it in the morning.
Chen handed the second cup of coffee up to the second bunk, but Darby pushed it away, spilling some on the floor.
“Hey!” Chen called out. “That’s hot.”
“Keep it away. My head feels like there’s a gong going off inside.”
“It going to feel much worse if you do that again.”
Jack smiled. “Take the coffee, Darby.”
Chen reached the mug up to Darby again. Darby reached down to push it away, but Chen grabbed his wrist. Darby was pulled from the bed and slammed to the floor. Jack was laughing. He had seen that coming.
Chen said, “Now you’re head is hurting worse, and the coffee is all over the floor. Now you have to walk all the way over to Hunter’s yourself and get another cup.”
As they sat at Hunter’s and drank coffee, Jack said, “You know, I’ve got a job here. I can’t fill every night with whiskey like I did last night.”
“What kind of job?”
With one finger, Jack tapped the tin star on his shirt. “This is real.”
“What can possibly happen in a little town like this?”
“Not much, most of the time. But it can get wild here on a Saturday night. The townspeople need me functional.”
Darby nodded. The gong going off in his head had quieted a little after three cups of coffee, so he was able to nod his head without too much pain. “How’d that old man throw me on the floor like that?”
“He’s a man of mystery.”
“Well, I won’t get in the way of you doing your job.” He took a sip of coffee. “Where’s the bank? I’ve gotta withdraw some funds.”
Jack shook his head. “Darby, there is no bank. You saw the entire town when you came in.”
“What about that building down past the store?”
Jack chuckled. “That’s a brothel. The nearest bank is a two-day ride away.”
Darby looked at him with dead seriousness in his eye. “Jack, I only have two dollars and twenty cents in my pocket. I tipped the stage driver a dollar yesterday. This is all I have. I figured I’d withdraw some cash when I got here.”
The smell of bacon was in the air. Chen was at the stove, cooking.
Darby said, “Mister Hunter told me this meal’s on the house, and I appreciate that. But I can’t keep living like this. I have to get down to that bank.”
“I have another idea. It’ll involve a walk down to the Freeman cabin. After you’ve got enough coffee in you so you can walk.”
Jack called a meeting at Hunter’s. It was a Thursday afternoon, which meant business was pretty much dead anyway, so the business leaders in town were able to spare a few minutes. Franklin was there, along with Henry Freeman and Shapleigh, and Miss Alisha.
Darby stood beside Jack. The white shirt the day before was looking a little rumpled now, and he had discarded his jacket and tie, and his vest was unbuttoned. Pinned to his shirt was a tin star Henry had made.
Franklin said, “I’m not sure we need a second lawman, Jack.”
“I think you might. There are times, like on a Saturday night after payday, when this town can almost explode. It’s not fair to keep expecting my brothers to ride in and help. It’s not their job. And there are times when I need to be gone for a while, like if I’m going to scout the hills, or ride into the valley. It would be good to have a deputy on hand.”
“But,” Franklin said, “no offense intended, but can he hold up in a fight? I mean, he looks like a city feller.”
“He was on the boxing team with me, back at school. Knocked me on my butt a few times.”
Darby nodded with a smile. “More’n a few times.”
“And maybe Mister Chen can teach him some wrestling tricks.”
Henry Freeman said, “Can you shoot?”
Darby shrugged. “I’ve shot a pistol before. In the woods outside of Boston, Jack and I did some target practice. And I’ve gone hunting a few times with an uncle of mine on his estate in upstate New York.”
His estate, Jack figured. Darby wasn’t winning a lot of points with these people.
Jack said, “I’ll vouch for him.”
Franklin gave a reluctant nod, and looked to Shapleigh, who did the same. Miss Alisha was giving her strange motherly smile. She said, “For what it’s worth, I’m a good judge of character, and I think he’s a stand-up sort of man.”
Hunter said, “All right, Jack. If you’ll vouch for him, then I say it’s worth giving it a try.”
They went to Franklin’s to see if he had a pistol for Darby, and then they went out behind the marshal’s office for some target practice. Darby held the pistol out at full extension and squeezed off a shot. He was aiming at a branch a hundred feet away. When the sound of the shot died away and the smoke dissipated, they could see the branch was untouched. He brought the arm back up to full extension and emptied the gun at it.
Jack said, “You didn’t hit the branch at all.”
“I think I came close once.”
Jack shook his head. “Let’s reload and try it again.”
Darby was using a Colt Dragon .44. Long since out of production, it was cap-and-ball, but it had been retooled to use cartridges. Darby reloaded it.
“Show me how to do the fast draw,” he said.
“You don’t have a gunbelt. And besides, I don’t think you’re ready for that. You need to be able to hit a target a hundred feet away.”
“How’d your father teach you?”
“He began by having me shoot at a target a hundred feet away.”
Darby squared away at the tree branch. “All right, you rascally branch. You have breathed your last.”
And he brought his arm out to fully extension and cocked the gun, closing one eye as he tried to draw a bead on his target, and fired. The branch remained unharmed.
Darby said, “How many tries did it take you to hit a target the first time?”
“This isn’t about me, it’s about you.”
“Come on, Jack. How many? More than seven?”
“It took me nine. But I was only ten years old.”
“Ten years old, huh?” Darby threw his shoulders back, and aimed the pistol. “I can do better than that.”
“Don’t aim the gun. Just point it, like you’re pointing a finger.”
Darby fired. The bullet kicked up a piece of bark on a tree behind the branch.
Darby fired all four remaining shots, and when the smoke cleared, the branch made it clear it was going to live to fight another day.
Jack gave the pistol back to Franklin, and got Darby a shotgun.
The following morning, Jack was at Hunter’s, sitting at a table with a cup of coffee in front of him. Darby was taking the morning rounds. Chen sat across the table from Jack. He was about to start cooking, but wanted to finish his coffee first.
“Hey,” Jack said lightheartedly. “I thought Chinamen all drank tea.”
“I’ve been in this country a long time. I developed a taste for this brackish brew you call coffee.”
Jack took a sip. “So tell me, Mister Chen. What’s your story? What brought you here?”
“I probably shouldn’t tell you this, because you’re a lawman, but I’m on the run. There’s a price on my head.”
Jack looked at him with surprise.
“I wasn’t always as I am now,” he said. “Once, in China, I was si guang chu li. You would say in your language..,” he was searching his memory for the word, “mer
cenary, I think.”
“You were a mercenary?”
He nodded. “I rode for a warlord, who became an ally of the emperor. I was the warlord’s number one.”
“Si gong...how did you say that?”
“Si guang chu li.”
“So, how did that lead to a price on your head?”
“I became a lover of the emperor’s niece. And she was married.”
Jack was incredulous. “No kidding. And here I thought you were this man of great wisdom.”
“I am now. Mistakes when we are young is how we become wise when we are old. As long as we learn from those mistakes. If we don’t learn, then we sometimes don’t live long enough to be old. Now is your time to make mistakes. It is my time to be wise.”
“So, how is it you can be so old, and yet are more capable than many young men?”
Chen shrugged. “I awaken in the morning before first light. I walk to a secluded place and meditate. I then stretch, and I breathe.”
“Well, everyone breathes.”
He shook his head. “Everyone sucks in air and then blows it out again. Few people actually breathe.”
“You’re a man of mystery, Chen.”
Chen smiled. “Not so much. Not really. I’m a man who has made mistakes and learned from them so I could live to be old.”
“I hope I didn’t make a mistake with Darby.”
“He’s your friend. You should know him well enough to know if he can do the job.”
“That’s just it. He’s my friend, and we spent a lot of time together back at school. We drank a lot of whiskey. But I never really told him much about myself, and I know little about him. I know he comes from a wealthy family, and they expected him to be a lawyer. But we never really talked about any of it.”
“He was unhappy, as were you.”
Jack nodded. “Yeah. I guess I always knew that, at least to some degree. But we never talked about it.”
“You merely drank whiskey and shared each other’s misery.”
“Yeah. I guess that’s the situation.”
“What does your heart tell you?”
But before Jack could consider the question, Darby called from outside. “Jack! Jack!”
One Man's Shadow (The McCabes Book 2) Page 37