Whiskey When We're Dry

by John Larison

  The sheriff was putting a match to a rollie. “Ain’t nobody rooted out that injun yet, but I’m sure you’ll be the one.” He waved out the match and tossed it at the wall.

  “The Governor lives in this here town?”

  The sheriff puffed, his eyes studying me for the first time. “What’s your name, son? Who gave you that mark? You part Mexican?”

  The deputy with spurs said, “What’s your business with the Governor?”

  I could see there was nothing to be gained by counsel with these men and so I did not answer. “How does a man sign up for the militia?” I was figuring the fastest way to Noah was to join the army hunting him.

  The men laughed.

  “Get out there, squirt,” the old man said. “But do me a favor and get yourself kilt outside the county. We worn thin for one day.”

  * * *

  —

  I found the Governor’s mansion upon a bluff overlooking the city. At the edge of town a gate bisected the roadway leading up that bluff and there was a guardsman holding a Winchester repeater and smoking a rollie. I nodded to him, but he only looked on me. Everybody in town was smoking rollies. In the city there was too much standing around with bored hands.

  “Can I pass?” I asked the guard.

  “You on the list?”

  “Could be.”

  “Doubt that.”

  “Check for me?” I wanted to see how long this list was.

  The guardsman took a moment to study me and then flipped his cigarette into the dirt. He wore a duster and a black hat with a silver band. He was young with green eyes and red hair and I thought he looked a touch soft for such work. That made me sure he was dangerous. He unfolded the list from his pocket.

  I told him my name was Jesse Montclair. It just come out like that.

  “You ain’t on the list.”

  “How do I sign up for his militia?”

  “You.” He looked me over. “You got army experience?”

  “No, sir.”

  “The militiamen all got army experience.”

  “How many of them is there?”

  He hefted his holster back onto his hip. “Round about a buck fifty, I reckon. What you say your name was?”

  Over his shoulder, near the mansion, I saw a gleaming carriage driven by two white horses, each bigger than Ingrid and Ol’ Sis put together. They was waiting on someone.

  * * *

  —

  The afternoon was bright and unnatural hot. The light shone red through the smoke of cooking fires. Each breath was rich with creosote and manure.

  I’d been hearing a train rumbling to a stop. Then that whistle and at last a great release of steam. I ducked the gap between two buildings and arrived in time to see another release from the train, this one men, women, and children with trunks and bags and wide eyes. Merchants glazed in dust befell them holding steaming corn and strips of meat on skewers. A boy peddler held a whiskey bottle and offered pulls for a dime. Others was shouting about horses and wagons for sale and rides for rent “to wherever your dreams will take you.”

  “Welcome to the pearl of your future!” That was the city’s call. The words was writ on the arch over the train yard.

  Railroading settlers was still coming off the cars. I couldn’t help but hate them a little, how they likely covered more miles today than I suffered in a week on the trail.

  I wondered what traveling that fast did to a soul.

  * * *

  —

  Ingrid and me spent the evening together. I took my supper to her stall and the bottle of ale that come with it. We didn’t much talk. We stood close, as horses is wont to do when full of belly. “So long as your feet is on the ground, you the boss of the man on your back.” Her eyes hung half open. I passed a hand along her neck. “I should’ve taught you that. You knew it once but Pa broke the notion from you so you might wear a saddle. But I want you to have it back. You gotta remember, girl. Nobody else decides nothing for you no more.”

  * * *

  —

  I woke early and walked to a local sit-down and was the first patron through the door. The owner was sitting at the bar with a paper when I come in. I ordered his hot breakfast and asked if I might take a gander at his paper while he made it.

  My brother’s name appeared on page 2. He was blamed for a holdup in Wyoming and another in Nevada on the same day. The reporter raised the possibility that Noah had broken his gang into two to confuse the authorities. Didn’t say nothing about the possibility Noah was getting blamed for crimes he didn’t commit. The article mentioned, like it was old news, the New Moon Heist. It said, “Harney is known to have escaped with $50,000 in fresh-printed cash.”

  Fifty thousand dollars. I said that figure out loud. I wondered what fifty thousand might look like if laid out on this table before me.

  The Governor himself was on page 1, with a picture and all. The article was about his support for the Chinese Exclusion Act. “This brave law is curing the woes of the family man by opening employment across this triumphant state.” I read the article in its entirety, but it was the caption to the picture that held my attention.

  Governor enjoys some shooting sport last Sunday.

  In the picture the Governor watched a man fire his pistol from the hip. The motion was blurred with speed.

  I paid for my meal and paid extra to take the paper with me. With it under my arm I crossed the city. A new guard was at the Governor’s gate. I took a rest below a cottonwood. As the sun grew hot I moved from its rays into the shade. I finished with the paper and then started it again.

  It was past noon, and the wind was picking up dust and spinning it in a loose circle before letting back to the earth, and I hadn’t seen hide nor hair of the Governor. Deliveries went past the gate with some regularity. I took note of that.

  I walked about to put blood in my legs again and in the distance to the west I saw a white building being built all by its lonesome. There was scaffolding along it and the tiny black dots of men at work. It must’ve been a half mile from the edge of town, but even from this distance I could see the twin flags flying overhead, one the stars and stripes and the other the freshly drawed-up banner of the state.

  “What’s that out yonder?” I called to the guard.

  He took a gander for himself and squinted against the sunlight. He was older than the first guard, twice my age plus some. “That there is the state capitol.”

  “Why ain’t it in the center of town?”

  “They aim it to be. That’s the direction they building.”

  * * *

  —

  I grew thin with waiting. “Governor ever come out of his hiding place?”

  The guard rested his Winchester on his hip. “Why? What plans do you have for him? What’s your name, son? Come near. I seen you here before, ain’t I?”

  I wasn’t getting nowhere sitting at the gate and so I started down the road back into town without much of a plan. I caught a ride with an open wagon drawn by a sole quarter horse. Its driver was a minister in black cloak and round hat and he was picking up walking men and giving them rides in exchange for listening to the Word. He preached as we crossed town and in truth I wasn’t much interested in his message, though I played the part well enough that he delivered me all the way to the capitol building. I hadn’t planned to go that far but as we neared I saw them two white horses out front tethered to that same polished carriage I remembered from the mansion.

  A deputy stopped me from entering the capitol grounds. I didn’t make no fuss but just sat down on the side of the road and tipped my hat to the sun. Wasn’t long this time before I heard hooves and the smooth runnings of carriage wheels. I looked up to see the white horses punching dust. A guardsman sat beside the driver.

  I understood this to be a chance worthy of risk. I stepped into the path.<
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  The driver reined back and the carriage rocked forward with the stop. I heard the occupant curse. The guardsman was up with the two black eyes of the scattergun leveled on me. He was cursing and shouting. Another guardsman come off the back and levered a shell into his Winchester. He circled behind me, and I put my palms out where all could see.

  “I mean no offense. I only request an opportunity to speak. I done been waiting all day.”

  “Get out the way or we’ll roll you over,” the guard shouted down the length of the scattergun.

  “I won’t get until you hear me through. You’ll have to pepper me if’n you want me gone sooner.”

  At this the guard from behind put a boot to my ass and I tumbled face-first to the earth. He was upon me at once, a barrel to my neck. The Colt was pulled free of its holster. I didn’t dare breathe. The speed of this guard impressed me.

  “What’s your business!” the guard with the scattergun shouted. “Tell me or you’ll tell it to your Maker as you done suggested.”

  “I . . . I just want a minute with his governorship.”

  There was silence.

  “His governor. Ship?”

  “I got a question for him.”

  “What kind of fool sits the road with a quest—”

  “What is this delay?” I heard a new voice from within the carriage.

  “Sir,” I shouted, “I’m here to talk with you.”

  The guard with the scattergun called to his younger counterpart, “Get this bandicoot out of here. Have Sheriff Wilhelm put him on a train for St. Louis.”

  Desperation shoved me back on familiar tricks. “I bet you five dollars against an audience with the Governor I can hit a target of your choosing. Right now.”

  At this a head appeared from the side of the carriage. It belonged to a young man with a thin moustache. A narrow cigar hung from his lips. His face showed not a sign of sun or weather. This was not the Governor of the state. “A shooting wager?” His voice was rich with dignity.

  “Sorry, senator,” said the guard with the scattergun. “We’re sending this horn on his way.”

  I dug up Straight-Eye Susan. Except now my words come out with the resolve of a killer. “I’m a better shooter than any of these men. I can outshoot your best gun or I’ll give up trying.”

  The senator turned the cigar in his mouth. “You are not flush with humility. A showman then? Are you some manner of weapons performer?”

  “No. I look at something and then it gets center punched with a nugget of lead. That’s all.”

  He pushed open the carriage door and stepped out into the light. He wore a maroon suit and a silver vest. “Any man can speak such bravado. Demonstrate your skill and I will judge its merit.” His eyes scanned the middle distance for a target.

  The older guard called, “This ain’t a prudent idea, sir.”

  The senator ignored the guard. He pointed at a bird on the wing. The sun was in his eyes and he held a hand to block it. “That raven. If you’re so good, hit that raven.”

  “The one on the wing out yonder? The eagle?”

  “Whatever its species. Kill it and we’ll see about this audience.”

  “You want to see my five dollars first?”

  He chuckled. “Hit the animal or I’ll let Tuss put you on the next train east.”

  “It’s some distance for a sidearm. Them birds is tall as a man up close. Can I have two shots?”

  Turning to the guardsmen, the senator said, “What think you, boys? Two shots? Yes, why not. Have two, but not a third. The day is already well aged.” He nodded toward the guard who had kicked me to the ground. The man spat and withdrew the Colt from his belt and handed it to me.

  The senator put his clean fingers to his ears. His cigar glowed and a cloud of smoke drifted over me.

  I cocked the Colt and sighted and led and was surprised when the pistol leapt in my hand. I was not surprised to miss low and behind. I shot again with calm. Pa’s voice in my ear, A real shooter don’t miss twice.

  Feathers fluttered off in the breeze and the eagle beat his wings faster and away, but then slower and then the bird was spinning. I felt the impact on the earth we shared. Dust rose up and was taken by the wind and I wished the senator had picked an ale bottle or a stand-alone stone as our target.

  His cigar lay smoking on the road. He turned to me and then we both looked down at this tobacco. I picked it up for him. He said, “I am persuaded.”

  “So you will take me to the Governor?”

  “I like that you’re small too.” The senator squeezed my shoulder like I was some manner of animal at market. “And frail for a man. Look at you. The Governor will underestimate you and wager high. You say you can shoot on the quick?”

  He opened the door of the carriage and pointed. This rich man was inviting me inside. His shave was so fresh he seemed not to grow facial hair anywhere but in a thin band on his upper lip.

  “This ain’t keen,” the younger guard said. “I advise against it.”

  “Well, lucky for us we don’t pay you for your counsel. Now tell me everything. Where did you garner those marks upon your cheek? Go on, climb inside. They won’t shoot you for doing as I say.”

  The younger guard took back the Colt and tucked it in his belt. He ran his hands over my sides and down my legs and then stood and spat on my toe.

  I climbed inside and took a seat upon the polished leather. We set off at once. I had never been inside a carriage before, let alone one with braces for a smooth ride. The senator lit a new cigar. As an afterthought he offered me one. I declined. I was smitten by our transportation. We was within a cloud during a windstorm.

  “Tell me, will you win this competition?” He was not of this place and spoke with the accent of his education. “I suspect you will but I must know, have you won competitions before? Are you a gambling man? What is your history? I should know this and more because someone may ask. You aren’t a criminal? Is there a warrant someone might uncover?”

  “I’m just a nobody. But I’m fixing to get myself a job with the Governor.”

  “First you have a job for me. Have you wagered and won before?”

  “Yessir.”

  “Brilliant. I will wager four hundred on you. That should capture our Governor’s attention. Don’t you think? Whether you win or lose, I still win so long as we compete as equals. However, I would much prefer you not lose. At this particular juncture, honestly put, my coffers would feel the sudden deprivation of nearly a half thousand.”

  I didn’t answer. Four hundred dollars would never fit in one man’s pocket. I wondered if rich men carried different bills than us regulars.

  He lectured as we rolled at great speed through town. Before us folks jumped free of the road. His talk took a turn for the personal. “I am to be his son-in-law. But you probably already know as much. We are in the papers often. His daughter and I will be married this fall and will travel to the nation’s capital where our home is nearly completed. I am the new congressman from this infant state. Maybe that is why you recognize me.”

  I in fact did not recognize him. I couldn’t have told you then the difference between a congressman and a whore. The word “congress” was something I most associated with breeding.

  “You may wonder why I would stake such money on you and against the father of my intended. Well, he is a man who values his friendships, and being privy to the subtle dynamics between him and his closest allies, I have learned that for him friendship and wagers go hand in hand. It is the wager that builds the esteem and history, two vital ingredients of any contemporary friendship between equivalent men.

  “Don’t have the wrong impression, however. I am not yet dusty enough, if I may, to find personal enjoyment in the coarse outlets of the Governor. I retain the dignities of my eastern forbearers—the very founders of this nation, I might add.
Nonetheless, when this western man offers me a whiskey, I take it even though I do not normally imbibe libations more callous than, say, gin. I am a Lutheran, you understand. We prefer service to vice. Alas, sometimes our fates require a sensible and controlled excursion through the wilderness, do they not? Is that not the lesson our nation’s history so prescribes? What is your name after all?”

  “Jesse Montclair.”

  “Jesse Montclair.” He rubbed his chin. “Not of the Georgian Montclairs, I hope.”

  “No, sir.”

  “Have you been graced with a jovial nickname? Something cocky and bullying, perhaps? I would prefer not to employ ‘Montclair’ in the company of his governorship. The Montclairs are most spiteful Southerners, and their conflicts with the Governor predate the war.”

  “I ain’t got no other name.”

  “Then we will call you Jesse Straight. You strike me as a straight type. It is a handsome nickname. You can carry it proudly. In years to come you can report that Senator Scott gave you the name just prior to the moment you won him four hundred dollars in a shooting wager against some forgotten, come-lately, western governor.” He smiled like we shared a secret. “As you tell it, may our fortunes allow that you shall say ‘President Scott.’”

  I was without words when the Governor’s gate opened for us. Just like that, we rolled through. The feeling was like the first bounds of a horse coming to speed.

  * * *

  —

  Our ride took us to the shade of that white mansion on the bluff. It rose from the sage as if placed by the Lord Himself. White columns towered from the stone porch to the stone roof. I saw an armed man on top. I saw a stable bigger than any I had imagined, and beyond a white-fenced pasture and two herds of tall buckskins throwing up dust. It was more than I had ever thought to dream of.

  A powerful mare was in the lunging circle. I watched her bound, the muscles casting crescents of shadow across her flank. A woman was there holding a rope in one hand and a whip in the other. She wore the divided skirts of a rider. When she looked our way I saw she was young in the face.