CHAPTER ELEVEN
I reckon I set outside that barber shop an’ bathouse for half a hour or better waitin’ on Marion. He finally come out about ten minutes after that horse drawed train car come by. He took to a chair beside me.
“Ruben,” he said, “are ya alright?”
“Reckon so,” I tolt him. “That little train car come by a few minutes ago. I speck we got a hour or better ‘til in comes by agin. How was yer massage?”
“Not quite as good as them Chinee gals we run across that time, but some fair. I’m hungry. The feller at the parlor tolt me they was a good place to eat just down the way. We should be able to git our dinner et afore our ride comes by agin.”
He got up then an’ struck off. I follerd along.
That café was a place called Jenson’s, an’ was some nice. They was a bar on one end near where the kitchen was so folks could set on high stools an’ eat after a waitress brung they food out, an’ a dozen or so tables in the rest a the space that could seat four folks at each one. The place was only about half full an’ me an’ Marion took a set on the side of the room near the window in front. Purty soon this little dark-haired girl less than twenny years a age come over. She was fair purty an’ give us a big smile.
“Hello,” she said, “and welcome to Jenson’s. My name is Lucy. What can I get you two gentlemen this fine day?”
That set both of us to grinnin’ some.
“Miz Lucy,” Marion said, “that smile a yours is nourishment for my soul. Whatcha got today that is good for my other appetite?”
“Our ground beef steak platter is well liked,” she said.
“Ground beef steak?” Marion asked her. “Never heard of it.”
“Mister Schmidt is our kitchen manager. He came over this way about a year ago from Germany. He claimed ground beef steak was very popular in his old country and started serving it here. We sell quite a bit of it.”
“You care for it, do ya?” Marion asked her.
“I do,” she said, “and I recommend it.”
“With that smile,” Marion said, “I can’t help but take you at your word. Two of ‘em please, and coffee for the both of us.”
“Coming up,” Miz Lucy said, an’ scooted away.
We both watched her leave. I set for a minute an’ turned to Marion.
“You got any idea what we’re fixin’ to eat?” I asked him.
“Not one, Ruben. But I bet that if that little gal says we’ll like it, we will. I’m buyin’, boy. Take it easy.”
A young fella come up about then with our coffee an’ set the cups on the table with a little pitcher a cream. I put some in my cup an’ took a sip. Me an’ Marion didn’t say much, but just looked around the place. When we was about half done with the coffee, Miss Lucy come back an’ set two plates down in front of us.
“You gentlemen enjoy your meals,” she said, an’ hustled off.
They was a servin’ a sweet corn on my plate, some fried potaters, an’ that ground beef steak. It was near a perfect circle about five inches across an’ three quarters of a inch thick, an’ was settin’ on a piece a bread, about the same size, that kindly looked like the bottom half of a big ol’ biscuit or somethin’. Underneath the steak was some greens between it an’ the bread, an’ on top of it was some kinda sauce that was brownish red in color. Marion an’ me looked at each other an’ dug in.
I’ll tell you what. I had never had nothin’ like it in my whole life. That beef had been chopped up so fine that it was kindly pushed together agin’ an’ patted into that round shape so it would fit on top a the bread. With them greens under it an’ that kindly sweet an’ tangy sauce on top it was terrible good an’ it chawed up easier than cherry pie. When all that was put together with them crispy fried potaters an’ the sweet corn, it was as good or better than anythin’ I had ever et. Me an’ Marion never give one word to each other once we started eatin’.
We both got done at about the same time, an’ Miss Lucy showed up with a coffee pot an’ filled up our cups. She smiled at us.
“Well?” she said.
“That has got to be as good as anything I ever had,” Marion tolt her. “Put that meal together with that smile a yours, and I believe I am young agin.”
Miss Lucy giggled an’ turned in my direction.
“And you?” she said.
“You tolt the truth,” I said. “I believe you and my wife are the only two women in my life that I can completely trust, Miss Lucy.”
That made her an’ Marion both laugh.
“Some customers have it for breakfast,” she said. “It comes without the greens or corn and has a fried egg on top. It is well-liked, too. Apple pie for desert?”
We both said yes an’ she collected our empty plates an’ struck off. Marion an’ me set there, near as full as ticks. In just a little bit Miss Lucy come back, put two pieces a apple pie on our table, an’ left the ticket.
“Don’t forget breakfast in the morning,” she said. “We open at six.”
We watched her go away an’ turned to the pie. I’ll be durned if it warn’t as sweet as it could be.
We finished our pie an’ Marion paid the bill. It cost us a total a near six bits each. That was some high, but well worth it. Marion left the ticket an’ a five dollar gold piece on the table an’ we walked outside just in time to see that horse drawed train car comin’ down the tracks. It was a fine and sunshiny afternoon, is what it was.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Me an’ Marion got back on that little rail car an’ commenced our ride. He was some quiet for a spell, then looked at me fair serious an’ kindly studied on me a little bit.
“What?” I asked him.
“I been thinkin’ about you, Ruben,” he tolt me.
“Well I durn sure hope it warn’t while you was gittin’ yer massage an’ all. That’d make me kindly nervous.”
He grinned at me.
“Settle down, boy. You was the farthest thing from my mind at the time. I been thinkin’ about how you was not sleepin’ too good the other night an’ then had all them visions goin’ on in yer head like they done in the mornin’ when you was awake.”
“I didn’t care for it much,” I said.
“They warn’t nightmares or nothin’ like that, I believe you said.”
“Nossir. Truth be tolt, I had some bad dreams afore them other things come to me, but I really doan remember none a what went on while I was sleepin’. Out there settin’ on the porch, I was plumb awake when them other things come into my mind.”
“You had both good things and bad things crop up did ya?”
“Yessir,” I tolt him. “Happy events an’ then times when I got hurt or durn near kilt.”
Marion commenced to studyin’ on me some more then an’ I kindly got to squirmin’ from it.
“You fixin’ ta make a comment or somethin’?” I asked him, “or are ya fixin’ to just look at me all day?”
Marion peered at me some more an’ spoke up.
“Settle down, Ruben,” he said. “I believe them memories a yourn was tryin’ to warn ya.”
“Warn me?”
“Yessir. If I recall the events correctly, them memories hit you some hard. Hard enough that you stood up, tilted your hat back, and was wiping sweat offa your forehead when that ol boy, Marvin, tried to shoot ya. That rubbin’ on yer forehead put you to movin’ a little bit. The round he sent after ya only missed your head by about a half a inch. If you hadden a had them visions or whatever they was, you’d a been settin’ in that chair all relaxed and settled. Most likely you woulda got yerself shot. Fair likely you coulda got yerself kilt.”
I studied on what he’d just said a bit afore I spoke up.
“Most likely,” I said, “that Marvin fella just warn’t a very good shot.”
“That shot come from well over seventy or eighty feet, boy. Most folks can’t hit much with a handgun from anywhere over fifty feet. That ol’ boy knowed what he was doin’. He had ya dead to rights, Rub
en. I speck you just kindly moved out of the way tryin’ to wipe yer sweat and that round whizzed by yer ear instead a smackin’ you in yer head. Why would you done somethin’ like that at just the right time?”
I didn’t know what to say about that an’ kindly just set there for a spell, rockin’ some in that little train car as we went along an’ thinkin’ over what Marion had tolt to me. We come up on where we had to git off to walk back to the roomin’ house, an’ I was still studyin’ on what Marion had said. We hiked on for a ways afore I spoke up.
“You think I was kindly warnin’ myself?”
“I do,” he said.
“Marion, I got a terrible amount a respect for ya,” I said. “You know that. But to be plumb honest about all this, I kindly figger yer powder is some wet.”
Marion throwed his head back, laughed, an’ smacked me on the shoulder. After he done that, he spoke up.
“Boy,” he said, “the night Youngblood was waitin’ for ya in the stable to give you a chop or two, you knowed somethin’ was wrong, didn’t ya?”
“I did a little bit I reckon, but it was Willie that really tipped me off.”
“You see Youngblood comin’, did ya?”
“Nossir,” I said.
“But you still went the right way to keep from gittin’ kilt, didn’t ya?
“I guess I did,” I tolt him. “He swung at me an’ missed.”
“Uh-huh,” Marion said. “How ‘bout when you was out on the trail headin’ home from Royce Taylor’s place and that feller by the name a Pete shot ya?”
“He’d a hit me fair an’ square if’n the coffee pot hadden a boiled over,” I said. “I leaned forward at just the right time, I reckon.”
Marion nodded.
“Half a second later and you woulda been a gone beaver. You did move at exactly the right time, Ruben. That there is the straight of it.”
“Well, I guess it is,” I tolt him.
“You mentioned that on the rest a the ride, you seen Harmony standin’ by the trail a time or two, kindly keepin’ you goin’.”
“Four times,” I said. “I seen her four times just as clear as a cloudless day. I doan believe I coulda kept on without her.”
“Alright,” Marion said. “We got Marvin, we got Youngblood, we got Pete, and we got Harmony. Four times you coulda easy died, but ya didn’t. I didn’t mention Fayrow Dunlap. You thought some of him, didn’t ya?”
“Yessir,” I said, “I truly did.”
“If we had ol’ Fayrow here with us right now, what do ya suppose he’d say about all this?”
I studied on the question a bit, then spoke up.
“I reckon he’d quote some scripture from the Bible an’ then say it was the hand a God workin’ in the lives a men.”
Marion nodded.
“Now then,” he said, “let’s take them same four situations and tell ‘em to Johnny Sweetgrass. What do ya reckon he’d say?”
“I guess he’d say this or that about how it was the Great Spirit or somethin’ what kept me safe from dyin’ all them times.”
“You reckon they is a big difference between God and The Great Spirit?”
That question hit me kindly sideways. I kept walkin’ while I thought about it some afore I answered him.
“I believe they is a difference,” I said, “but it seems to me that difference comes from the way folks look at it. I know that Fayrow and Johnny had different opinions, but that don’t make neither one of ‘em wrong or right. It just makes ‘em different. It’s kindly like a dog, Marion. Folks over in France call a dog somethin’ else I reckon. Folks down in Mexico got their own name for dogs, too, I guess. The point is, no matter what ya call him, a dog is still a dog, ain’t he?”
Marion smiled some.
“Yes he is,” he said. “You go to church, do ya Ruben?”
“I went to Sunday School an’ such for a spell when I was little.”
“What did they tell ya about God?”
“They said he loved us an’ protected us an’ heard our prayers an’ such.”
“Did they tell ya he burned cities to the ground and the folks that was livin’ in ‘em at the time? Did they tell ya he brung a flood so terrible that most of the animals and all but a few of the people on the earth, even children, was drowned in it?”
“Nossir, they never tolt me that when I was little. Do you believe God woulda done that?”
“I choose not to believe it,” Marion said.
“When I was little, they tolt me that we was all created in God’s image. Do you believe that?”
“I mostly do Ruben, but I know that there are a lotta people who like to try and create God in their image. I know that, back in the war, if they was two brothers fightin’ and such, one for the North and one for the South, northerners would pray for God to kill the southern brother and southerners would pray for God to kill the northern brother. You think that’s right, do ya?”
“Nossir,” I said, “I don’t.
“Nor do I, boy,” Marion said, “and it suits me right smart to believe God don’t care much for it, neither.”
We both come over quiet, then, an’ kept walkin’ on down the way.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Me an’ Marion took our time gittin’ back to Mister Rafferty’s roomin’ house an’ peeked in a couple a stores along the way. In one of ‘em, Marion found hisself a buckskin-colored shirt that kindly took his fancy. It had two breast pockets that was double thick in material so he could easy put his badge in either one of ‘em an’ button a flap so whatever went in that pocket wodden fall out. On down close to the beltline on the right side, was another stout pocket that was a inch or better deeper than usual. The fella at the store said it was for holdin’ a pocket watch some secure an’ brung up another shirt just like it, only in a pale blue color. Marion bought both a them shirts, some pleased with the pockets an’ happy he wodden havta wear his leather vest in hot weather no more.
I snooped around an’ found some a what they called waist overalls that was made by that Levi fella out in Californy. I was some glad to run across them dark blue pants agin. The two pairs I had bought from Miz Coffee that time when we was tryin’ to git Miss Nettie loose from that McClusky bunch down in Payback had come to be plumb wore out. Miss Harmony had give up tryin’ to patch ‘em anymore an’cut ‘em up for use as rags. I got myself three pairs of ‘em an’ was glad for it.
Down the way a little we run across a notions store an’ found some a them Gayette Therapeutic Papers. Marion was wearin a grin that durn near touched his ears. Me an’ him both got four boxes an’ was fair happy about it. He also found hisself a hatband he come to be fond of. It was made a braided mule hide an’ was near to a inch wide. The side where it come to be tied off to itself sported a American flag pin made a brass an’ enameled in red, white, an’ blue. The fella at the store put it on Marion’s hat for him an’ commented that, because he was so tall an’ all, if Marion wanted anybody to see that hatband, he’d have to set down quite a bit.
In that same store they had cigars an’ chawin’ tobacco an’ some a them machine rolled cigarettes. Marion got five or six cigars that the fella there recommended, an’ I bought four little boxes a them cigarettes. We both figgerd that Homer would be some pleased when we give him them treats.
It was comin’ on evenin’ as we was walkin’ back to the roomin’ house an’ we run across a likely lookin’ café. The supper special was baked chicken with greens an’ hominy an’ it warn’t bad, but it warn’t near as tasty as that ground beefsteak platter Miss Lucy brung us for dinner. We et an’ had some white cake with our after supper coffee, then struck back on the way to the roomin’ house.
It was about sundown when we come walkin’ up to the place an’ there, settin’ on the porch in rockin’ chairs, was Sheriff Forest Hickman an’ Marshal Homer Poteet. We clumb them steps, said hello to Sheriff Hickman, an’ took a set in two rockin’ chairs. Homer ignored us an’ we ignored him. The sheriff looked us over.<
br />
“Looks to me like you two boys has been spendin’ a little money” he said, eyeballin’ our sacks a swag.
“Have,” Marion said. “Got myself a couple a new shirts and ol’ Ruben here got hisself two or three pairs a them blue Levi pants.”
“We got some cigars, too,” I said, “an’ some a them machine made cigarettes. Neither one a us smoke. I speck we just got kindly took up in the moment. I doan know what we’re gonna do with ‘em. Reckon we’ll just give ‘em away to some saddle tramp or drifter.” I let my eyes run over Homer, then looked back to the street.
“You girls done teasin’ yet,” Homer growled, “or is this here gonna go on for a spell?”
I grinned at him.
“Looky here, Marion,” I said. “Right here on the porch we got the dreaded, eyes like a hawk, Marshal Homer Poteet. You alright are ya Homer?”
“I hear you gotta hole in yer hat, young’un,” Homer said, grabbin’ a rung a my rockin’ chair an’ tiltin’ it way back. “I thought I taught you better’n that, Rube. Damn glad that ol’ boy warn’t packin’ a rifle. Otherwise we’d be sendin’ you home in a box an’ leadin’ Willie under a empty saddle.”
I grinned at him an spoke up.
“Stop bein’ so damn cheerful, will ya?”
“I got a question for ya, Homer,” Marion said. “How many times you been shot ya reckon?”
“Two times. How ‘bout you?”
“Me, too,” Marion went on, “if ya don’t count the shot that hit my revolver that time. How many times you been shot, Ruben?”
“One time,” I tolt him.
Marion grinned. “Well,” he said, “lookin’ at the brim a your hat, I’d figger at least one time and a half.”
All of us come to laughin’ a little bit then, an’ Sheriff Hickman chuckled right along with us. It felt some good to be back with the marshals agin.
The four of us set out on the porch ‘til it was durn near full dark while Homer looked over what we’d brung him. Sheriff Hickman excused hisself an’ went on his way after tellin’ us he had some feelers out an’ would most likely git back a telegraph or two an’ see us the next day. Homer puffed on one a them cigarettes an’ got to lookin’ at the streetlights an’ such.
Dakota Trail Page 6