Most days aren’t that exciting, I’ll give you that. Shearing bison is kind of boring, but their hair makes the warmest hats and coats you ever wore. Helps on the really cold nights when you don’t have enough firewood. Snow can’t melt on their coats – did you know that? Maintaining their wallow isn’t that fun either. It’s pretty disgusting. And when the time comes, I transport the “lucky ones” down to the slaughterman. I’ve given hand to the kills on occasion. I have a talent for it. It takes precision to put the knife in the exact spot, and then end their life with one swift stroke. I’m not partial to the butchering that follows, however, but I can do it if I have to. That’s a lot of detail work and it smells. I once held a bison’s heart in my hand. Didn’t eat much for the next few days.
On most days I’m out in the pasture, riding Charon, the brim from my hat keeping the sun out of my eyes. I know how to rile up the herd if I need to, and I’m smart enough to stay out of their way. I think they like me. Or at least they’re used to me, I dunno. Maybe they know I protect them. Wolf packs can take down an isolated bison if they surround it, believe it or not.
Anyway, I could’ve stayed on the ranch. Worked hard for my gold coins, spend ‘em at night at the saloon and call it a life. But if I kept doing that, I’d die alone. I knew that back then. Even if I married someone out of necessity, we wouldn’t wind up growing old together. Something would happen. I’d get shot in the back someday, or gored by a bull when my body started moving too slowly. No, if I wanted to die with someone at my side, my best bet was with Pace. And we know how that’s gonna turn out. Hah.
In the nights following our trip to the Old City with Becca, I’d see Pace at the saloon. He’d try to continue where we left off the other night but I made it clear that wasn’t gonna happen. He’d send over a drink, I’d send it back. He’d flirt with some girl, I’d make sure he knew I was watching. Becca didn’t show herself during that time. I figured she purposely knew to stay away, cause there was no telling what might happen if we got together again.
On one of those nights, the saloon was a little less busy than usual. I didn’t pay much attention. I was kinda happy I guess that there weren’t many Nuggets there to cause trouble. Not that I couldn’t handle it of course, but them not being in the saloon made it easier I suppose. Pace wasn’t there either. I remember feeling a little disappointed. But then I reassured myself that suited me just fine. I just wanted to drink. But I got interrupted when I slowly started to catch a whiff of something floating through the air. Smoke. Okay, everyone’s burning logs in their fireplace. We were just coming out of a harsh winter and it was still plenty cold. But soon, that smoky aroma got thicker. Something was burning. Something was burning down.
Most of us in the saloon stepped outside to get a sense of what was on fire. To most people’s relief, it wasn’t Town Hall to the north. Their effing movie equipment was still fine. No, the fire was coming from the west. People started running in that direction, so I joined in. Wasn’t much of a joiner but it was the most action we’d seen in some time. The smoke got thicker as I ran. Started to see an orange glow on the horizon. And as I neared it, I started to figure out something troubling. The fire was coming from Pace’s family home. Or the half of it that was still standing, I should say. It looked like the fire was spreading across the back half of the house. Their barn was ablaze too.
At first I assumed it was an electrical fire, since his was one of the few structures with working electricity. But no, when I saw looters running out the front door, carrying stolen belongings, I knew something was up. Wasn’t too surprised by that I suppose, people wanting to steal from the wealthiest family in town if they got the opportunity. But it also told me this wasn’t some little kitchen fire. The whole place was comin’ down.
I looked around for Pace. Finally saw him crumpled up on the ground. I thought maybe it was from smoke but no – he’d been beaten up good. Somebody’d whacked him hard in the face, right where he didn’t want to be hit. I helped him up to his feet.
“You okay?” I asked. Stupid question.
Pace held his head, trying to get his bearings. “I can’t… I can’t…” He sorta snapped back into consciousness and started frantically looking around at the crowd of looters. Didn’t seem to care about the effing crap they were stealing. He had something more important on his mind. “My dad! Have you seen my dad?” Adrenaline kicked in or something because Pace started darting around looking for his father. I’d seen his father around, knew what he looked like, but I didn’t seem him either. Then Pace froze. He started at me for a second. Wasn’t sure what was going on. “He must still be inside!” Then Pace turned and just ran into the smoke and through his front door. And despite my better instincts, I followed.
I’d never been inside his house before. It was one of the few houses in town with two stories. It was near as big as Town Hall. Mighty big for just two people, Pace and his father. And opulent. I think that’s the word, if that means fancy, I dunno.
My eyes burned immediately, and thick smoke made it hard to breathe. But that didn’t stop Pace from shouting out his father’s name. If he was still in there, we had to get him out. A few looters – were they Nuggets? – smacked at Pace’s head with some fireplace shovels and pokers that they were stealing. No, they weren’t just stealing. They seemed angry. Pace took a swing at a few of ‘em but didn’t connect. I did. Clocked ‘em pretty good, knocked those shovels and pokers right out of their hands. I was ready to take ‘em all on but they also seemed pretty eager to get out of the house before the oxygen was gone.
It didn’t seem like a safe thing to do, but Pace ran up the staircase. I followed blindly without thinking. Smoke rises. If we wanted to die, we were going in the right direction.
We ran through the upstairs hallway. Pace stuck his head in each room as he passed. I glanced inside one room and saw model airplanes hanging from the ceiling, catching fire. It must’ve been Pace’s bedroom, but he didn’t stop to save anything. Trophies or scrapbooks or whatever. He just let his boyhood burn.
We reached a closed door. Smoke was billowing out from underneath. You’re supposed to check a door in that situation to see if it’s hot, but instead Pace just put his weight into it. Door didn’t budget so I shoved Pace out of the way and knocked it open. Flames shot out at us and we narrowly dodged out of the way. I pulled my shirt up to cover my mouth. It was impossible to breathe.
Someone was lying on the floor. He wasn’t a big man, probably about Pace’s height and weight, and he wore a nice suit. The only place I ever saw someone wearing a suit was at church, and I never went there anyway. Or at the bank. The bank manager wore a suit. I helped Pace lift the man up and balanced him on our shoulders as we bolted out of that bedroom and down those stairs as fast as we could. There were no looters now in our way, just fire. I don’t remember the next couple of seconds. I just remember getting outside to the fresh air. We collapsed on the lawn and coughed the smoke out of our lungs. Then we quickly turned our attention to the man we had rescued – Pace’s father.
Pace checked for breathing and there was none. He started giving him mouth-to-mouth, but that didn’t seem to be working either. By then, a crowd of onlookers surrounded us. None lent their aid of course. They were just curious. Probably disappointed that they got there too late to loot.
Just as Pace stomped his fists on his father’s chest in frustration, the town doctor made his way through the crowd and took over. He tried to resuscitate Pace’s father for a few minutes, but then after a brief examination he looked up to Pace with soulful eyes.
“Sorry son. There’s nothing I can do for him.”
Pace yelled back with anger. “Why not? It’s just smoke! Get him on a respirator!”
“It’s not from the fire,” the doctor explained. He leaned Pace’s father up by the shoulders and pointed to the back of his head. “It’s from gunshot.”
Sure enough, there was a gaping hole in the back of his father’s head. I looked at Pace
and for the first time realized he was covered in blood. I looked down at my hands. So was I.
Pace broke down and cradled his father’s head. The doc and I shooed away the onlookers to give my friend some privacy. I didn’t know what to say.
Pace clutched at a thin silver chain hanging loosely around his father’s neck. The chain had broken and a few links fell off to the ground. He squeezed that chain as his hand balled into a fist. “They took it…” he muttered.
“Took what?” I said. In that moment I couldn’t think of anything they’d take that would matter under the circumstances.
“My father used to wear my mother’s wedding ring around his neck, on this chain. It’s the only thing of hers left that mattered to him. And they took it. Those effing animals took it!”
I wondered if that’d been what got his father shot. Clinging to the ring, not wanting them to take it. That could get a man shot in the face I suppose.
I knelt down alongside Pace. Didn’t say anything more. I was just gonna be there for him. If he needed someone to kill for him to get revenge, I’d do it. We were both now orphans. That’s what orphans do for each other, I suppose.
The funeral was sparsely attended. I went, of course. I didn’t have anything appropriate to wear so I was just gonna put on my cleanest overalls, but one of Pace’s relatives came by with a black suit in my size, more or less. It was the first time I’d ever worn anything like that. I had no idea how to handle the tie, and I knew I mangled it.
I stood alongside Pace as he looked at the coffin stoically, as the preacher rambled on and on about God’s will or whatever. Yeah, I don’t think it’s God’s will for an unarmed man to get shot in the head. The words irritated me, but I took my direction from Pace. He just stood there. I don’t think he was listening. After the service everyone shook Pace’s hand and said their regrets. And soon after, it was just me and him and his father’s grave.
A little while later we headed to the courthouse where the judge was pretty much expecting us.
“Sorry ‘bout your loss,” the judge said through his fat lips. I didn’t believe him.
Pace ignored the platitude. “Judge, I want to know what’s being done about this.”
“Well, Boze has conducted a thorough investigation.” Boze. You may as well let a wolf pack do the investigation. “It’s being treated as a robbery, and if Boze can bring me a suspect I’m pleased to hear the trial.”
“A robbery?” Pace seemed surprised.
“The looters stole your family’s gold,” the judge explained. “It is a robbery.”
“I don’t care about the gold! I care about who shot my father!”
“Probably not planned. Just a heat of the moment sort of thing. Or someone panicked. Leave it to Boze. He’ll find out who shot him.”
“How did anyone get a gun in the first place?” Pace had a fair point. “Let alone the bullets! The only person around here who I know is allowed to carry a gun is Boze.”
The judge leaned his girth forward toward Pace. Seemed like he was trying to be helpful, in his own way. “Careful to accuse the only lawman we’ve got. He’s on your side. Besides, someone did break into the armory last night and stole a revolver. Find that revolver and we’ve found your father’s killer.”
Pace turned around to leave, but then he stopped. “This is the first murder we’ve had in Great Falls since…” Pace hesitated and glanced at me for a second. “Apologies Ash, but we know when the last murders were. The whole town banded together to handle that situation. So how come this time I’ve got to rely on Boze?” No one had to answer that question. It was because Pace’s father was rich, and the innocent people my father killed were poor. “Someone knocked me out when I wasn’t looking. I know I saw some of his Nuggets in that house. Two of them tried to skull me with a fireplace shovel. Do you think Boze is actually going to investigate his own guys?”
“You’re upset,” the judge said, leaning back in the comfort of his chair. “But you should watch your accusations. Boze is well aware that a few of his men participated in the looting. They’ll be dealt with properly.”
“I don’t care about looting. I only care about who shot my father.”
“Well the Nuggets didn’t shoot your father.”
“And I’m to take Boze’s word for that?”
The conversation was over. Pace stormed out of the courthouse and I followed. Unspoken was that even though Boze never liked Pace, he was especially motivated to not help us. That night we were out with Becca cemented it. If Boze found out who the gunman was, he’d just appropriate the weapon and the gold and keep both in his personal collection. Or maybe he wouldn’t even lift a finger to try to find out.
Then, as if he was waiting for us, Boze was outside the courthouse leaning against the wall. As he saw us approach, Boze removed his hat and stood upright. He almost looked contrite. “Pace, I am very sorry for your loss. Know that my investigation will uncover…”
“Save it!” Pace barked. Then before I could stop him, even if I wanted to, Pace hurled a fist and it connected with Boze’s chin. It didn’t move Boze much, but it was the thought that counted. Then I pulled Pace away before any real damage could occur.
I muttered in his ear as I walked him away. “Not sure that’s gonna help.”
“I don’t care,” Pace said, nursing his sore hand. “It felt good.”
Later that day I walked Pace back to his relative’s house where he was planning on staying indefinitely. I was open to inviting him to stay with me, if it came to that. But I could tell he needed some time to himself. There would be time for all else.
That night I headed to the saloon, and was surprised to see that Pace wasn’t there. I would’ve kept him company, I suppose. Instead I drank alone, as usual. To my surprise Becca sat down next to me at the bar. I hadn’t noticed her, which isn’t like me.
She seemed very woeful. “I wanted to go to the funeral but my father forbid it,” Becca explained. “He doesn’t want anyone thinking we’re sympathetic, just so we don’t make ourselves a target.”
“Target?” I asked, not sure what she meant.
“It was probably just about gold, but my father is afraid there was some sort of grudge involved, and he doesn’t want us to get in the middle of that. This isn’t about a grudge, is it?”
Sure, I thought. We all have a grudge against the only rich family in town. But it’s not about anything important, just money.
“He took it hard, didn’t he? I can only imagine.” I could more than imagine. I was twelve years old when my father was gunned down by an angry posse. Old enough to remember him, or at least the sting of the back of his hand. My mother was there to comfort me. And so was Becca. “I want you to know I’m so sorry,” Becca continued. I looked down and noticed that she was covering my hand with hers. How much whiskey had I drank? I couldn’t believe I didn’t notice immediately.
“Why say sorry to me? I barely know Pace.”
“It’s just, well, you both lost your fathers…” I kinda liked that she remembered what I went through when I lost my father. Maybe she wondered if I’d need to be comforted all over again. I could be okay with that. “I’d like to pass along my condolences to Pace. Do you know where he is?”
I’m not sure why but I pulled my hand away. I guess it was cause she was showing interest in Pace. “Is it important?” I asked.
“Of course! He’s got to be hurting right now. He probably needs someone to talk to.” I wondered how it was possible that she cared for him, after one stupid night in the Old City. Unless they had secretly seen each other again without me knowing about it… “I just assumed that if anyone knew where he went, you would.”
“He’s staying with a relative, I dunno.”
Becca sighed and said, “I hope he’s holding up okay.”
The conversation trailed off for a minute. Didn’t much want to talk about Becca’s obvious feelings about Pace. Whatever.
“How are you holding up, Asher?”
I looked into the beautiful face in front of me. She seemed genuinely interested in my welfare. But how was that possible, when she clearly cared so much for Pace?
“I’m fine.”
I’m real good at ending conversations. But Becca kept sitting there, kinda hanging around. Finally she said, “so which relative is Pace staying with? It might be nice to bring him some food or something…”
I feel stupid, looking back at that moment. I had her all to myself. But all she could think about was Pace.
“You like him that much, huh?” My tone was kinda accusatorial. Not sure if that’s a word, you know what I mean.
She got kinda defensive. “No, I mean, he’s just been through a lot, I’d do the same for you…”
“You did the same for me,” I interrupted. “Fine.”
I collected my hat, tossed a gold coin to the bartender and headed outside. I mounted up on Charon as Becca came outside after me.
“Where are you going, Asher?”
“Pace’s relative’s. You comin’?”
We rode in silence to the relative’s house. Not sure exactly why I was taking her there. Delivering her to him I guess. He won I lost. Or maybe I just kinda wanted to check in on Pace. I dunno. Anyway we got there and it was pretty late but I knocked on the door anyway. His Aunt was kinda grumpy when she answered the door.
“He’s gone,” the Aunt said.
“What girl’s he been sleeping with?” I asked. “We’ll find him there.”
Becca hit me pretty hard. “Shut up, you’re being rude!”
I was being rude. Also practical. Also reminding Becca of the truth.
“He’s not with a girl,” the Aunt explained. “He took off for the air force base. He likes to go there sometimes to be alone.”
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