by R. B. Conroy
“Sure ‘nough do. There’s a barber shop around the corner and he’s got a few tubs in the back.” The hand walked over and took the reins from Jon and led Babe into the stable.
“We had a long ride today. She got plenty hot out there—she might need a little extra time.”
“No problem, Mister. I’ll give her all the time she needs. Now, why don’t you quit fussin’ about your horse and get on outta here and relax a little bit? I promise I’ll take real good care of her.” His mouth curled up in a friendly grin.
Jon turned and headed for the bathhouse. His legs were stiff from the many hours of riding along those narrow mountain passes. It felt good to walk and stretch for a minute.
Several people seemed to recognize Jon from the earlier gunplay at the Dead End as he walked down the dusty street. Soon he was in front of the bath-house. He looked up at the well worn sign: “Harper’s Barbershop.” As Jon jumped up on the boardwalk and hurried in, he noticed another sign advertising “Shave, haircut, and bath, four bits.”
Chapter 5
Jon felt like a new man as he bumped the door open to the Dead End Saloon and strolled inside. The place was full of life and kind of fancy. There was a long mahogany bar pushed up against the back wall. A large mirror with beveled glass hung behind the bar. Several gambling tables, faro tables, and roulette tables filled the center area. On the far side, there was a long oak stairway that led up to the painted ladies’ rooms. A honky-tonk piano sat in the corner of the room near the bottom of the stairs. The talented piano player was at full throttle when Jon arrived. Not a bad place to hang out, he thought.
Jon moved slowly toward the long bar. It was lined up from end to end with all sorts of humanity: miners, cowboys, gamblers, rustlers, and a few Mexican cattle herders and, as always, the hookers, conmen, gunmen, outlaws, and rounders. After his earlier fight with the cowboys, he wasn’t looking for any grief from anyone. A few drinks and some grub with Cliff was all he was looking for on this warm spring night.
On the way to the end of the bar, Jon caught a glimpse of a gentleman in a fancy suit talking with some gamers at a faro table. As Jon leaned up against the bar, the man looked at him. He nodded to the faro players and walked toward Jon.
“Howdy, stranger. I’m Lou Stanton. This here den of iniquity belongs to me,” he joked as his hand reached forward for a shake.
“Jon Stoudenmire.” The two men shook hands.
“Yes, I know,” Stanton replied. “When you chased off those fellas this morning, some of the local folks recognized you.”
“Hmmm, is that so?” Jon frowned.
“Yeah, word travels slow over the mountains, but it eventually gets here. They say you’re not one to trifle with.”
Jon grimaced. “I don’t want any trouble, Lou. I’m just in for the night. I’m headin’ out in the mornin’. Got some friends in Vinegar Bend.”
“Uh-huh. Vinegar Bend, ya say. That’s not too far—just a few hours ride from here.”
“Yep, I’m almost there!” Jon smiled.
Lou hesitated. “Let me give you a little advice, Stoudenmire. Watch your backside. There’s some tough hombres around here, and they’d like nothin’ better than to fill you full of lead. They’d become famous overnight.”
“Thanks for the warning, Lou, but like I said, I’m not stayin’ long, just passin’ through.”
Lou glanced at Jon’s six guns and smiled.
“Just for protection,” Jon said quickly.
“Well, I guess a man like you can’t be too careful!” Lou turned and walked quickly back to the gambling tables.
Jon shaded his eyes as the swinging door pushed open. Cliff hurried in and made his way to the bar. Several of the men in the casino spoke to him as he wound through the tables. He was obviously well known and well liked in El Cabrera.
“Sorry, Jon. Got held up at the bank,” Cliff sighed as he fell against the bar.
“No problem, cus. I thought you might have changed your mind or something.”
“No way! I wouldn’t have missed this dinner for anything. We’ve got a lot of catching up to do.”
“Yeah, I guess we do, Cliff,” Jon said as he tossed down a shot of whiskey. “Seems like you know about everybody in town.”
“I’ve been around a while. I know my share of folks all right. There’s some good ones and some bad ones, just like any other place.” The bartender slid a shot of whiskey in front of Cliff.
“Wish I could stay long enough to meet some of the folks, but I’m gonna light a shuck out of here in the morning. I’m anxious to see how my vineyard’s doin’.”
“Well, you don’t need to be in such an all-fired hurry, Jon. That vineyard isn’t going anywhere.”
“Yeah, I know. I guess I’m just anxious to get there. I’m sure I’ll be back to El Cabrera from time to time for supplies and such. And by the way, Cliff, kinda keep this vineyard thing under your hat for the time being. People will figure it out sooner or later, but for right now I’d like to keep it quiet. I need some time to build a cabin and get things around out there. A man with my reputation can’t be too careful.”
“My lips are sealed, cus. How about some grub?”
“Sounds good. I could eat a horse.”
“Why don’t we go over to that table in the corner of the room and see if we can keep you out of trouble for a while?” Cliff smacked his lips and set the empty shot glass on the table.
“Lead the way. And please don’t say hi to everybody in the room, okay? I wanna eat before midnight. I’m hungry!”
“I’ll try, but I’m pretty popular, ya know,” Cliff joked.
Jon smacked him lightly on the head. “You haven’t changed a bit—still cocky as ever.”
The men wove across the room to the corner table. As they got near, Jon spoke up. “Mind if I sit against the wall, Cliff? One never knows when some angry relative of one of the men I’ve shot might show up and try to plug me in the back. Just like Jack McCall did to my friend Wild Bill in Deadwood a few years back.”
“No problem.”
Cliff waved at the bartender; he hurried over.
“Howdy, boys.” He looked at Jon. “I didn’t get a chance to introduce myself when you were at the bar. My name’s Jake, and I guess you’re not too picky about the company you keep,” he joked.
“Pleasure, Jake,” Jon replied. “And yeah, you’re right—I’m not real picky! I take it you know this hombre.”
“’Fraid so, and I wish we had more Cliff Stones around here. We would be a lot better off.”
“That goes both ways, Jake,” replied the younger cousin.
“Well, as soon as you fellas get done with your love fest,” Jon grunted, “I’d like to order some grub.”
“Sorry, partner. What’s your pleasure? I got a bunch of T-bones on the grill, and they’re really tender tonight.”
“Sounds good!” the two old friends said in unison.
“Bring us a bottle of your best whiskey, Jake, and put it on my tab,” Cliff ordered.
“Will do, Cliff. The steaks’ll be up shortly.” Jake hurried over to the bar and returned promptly with a bottle of whiskey and a couple of shot glasses. He splashed the brownish spirits into the thick glasses, set the bottle down and scurried off.
The whiskey kept flowing as the two old friends began to reminisce about the old days as kids back in Indiana. Soon they were conversing quite freely, laughing and joking about their days working and playing on the lush farmlands of the Midwest.
“The way you took on those boys in front of the Dead End today didn’t surprise me at all, Jon. You were never one to mess with, even as a kid. I guess I can kinda understand how ya got your reputation and all—must be nice to be well known.”
“Not really,” Jon frowned. “That reputation isn’t what it’s cracked up to be. Like I said earlier, I never know when some lowlife’s gonna try to put a bullet in my back for killin’ some friend or relative of his. And then there’s the youngsters lo
oking for a reputation at my expense. I gotta be on my toes all the time.”
“Hmmm…,” Cliff replied. “Like the old saying goes, ‘walk a mile in my boots.’”
“Guess so.”
“Dinner’s served!” Jake announced as the steaming T-bones hit the table.
Jon inhaled deeply; the big T-bone steak with fried potatoes, pinto beans and onions sure smelled great after weeks of biscuits, bacon and beef jerky.
“Thanks, Jake,” Cliff said. The conversation stalled as the hungry men dove into the tasty vittles.
- - - - -
The fork rattled as Jon dropped it on the empty plate. He leaned back, reached inside his vest pocket and pulled out a cigar. Looking contented, he bit off the tip, struck a match along his jeans, leaned down and took a couple of hard drags.
“Don’t mind if I do,” Cliff barked.
Slightly embarrassed, Jon looked over at Cliff. “Sorry.” Jon dug another cigar out of his vest pocket and tossed it to Cliff. The red embers burned brightly as Jon took a hard drag and pointed the hot end at Cliff. Cliff leaned forward, his cheeks pruned as the hot coals spread to his cigar. The smoke curled above his head as he exhaled. “Good cigar,” he sighed. He carefully picked a loose piece of tobacco from his tongue and flipped it onto the wood floor. “You were always chasin’ the girls as a youngster, Jon. I’m surprised some sweet little filly hasn’t got a rope around you by now.”
“Marriage just never seemed in the cards for me, Cliff. Bouncin’ around the way I do, it just didn’t seem right. Until—”
An interested Cliff interrupted. “Until what?”
“Until I finally found a girl that could put up with me. She’s from down Arizona way, and she’s pretty as a picture. Elizabeth’s her name, but I call her Libby. She did a darn good job of meltin’ this ole heart of mine.”
“I hope to meet her someday.”
“You’ll get your chance. Soon as I get things squared away out at the vineyard, I’m going to send for her.”
“Here’s to Libby.” Cliff raised his glass, and the two men downed the shots.
“How about you, Cliff? Anybody round here kind of trippin’ your trigger?” Jon spilled more whiskey into the empty glasses.
“Naw, not really. I’ve done my share of courting since I been here, but so far nothing’s really worked out.”
“That Maggie Callahan’s a good looker. How ‘bout her?”
Cliff squirmed in his seat. “Maggie and I took a couple buggy rides, had a couple a dinners together, that’s all. Nothin’ ever came of it.”
“Oh well, there’s other fish in the pond.” Jon could tell he had hit a sore spot with Maggie. It was obvious that Cliff had stronger feelings for her than he was letting on.
Not surprisingly, Cliff seemed anxious to change the subject. “Traveling like you do, I’ll bet you’ve ran into some well known gunslingers along the way. You said earlier you knew Wild Bill.”
“Oh yeah, I’ve met a few. Like everybody else who gets around.”
“Ever gone one on one with any of ’em?” Cliff’s eyebrows rose.
“Not really. We kind of avoid fighting one another—kind of a mutual respect thing, I guess. Plus, when you fight someone like John Wesley Hardin, there’s a good chance you’re gonna end up dead.”
Cliff pushed on. “I don’t get around much anymore, Jon. I kinda been stuck here in El Cabrera for a number of years. It can get plenty rowdy around here at times, but for the most part it’s just the same ole, same ole. I could sure use a good story. How about it?”
Jon grimaced. His mother always taught him it was impolite to talk about oneself, but the alcohol was taking effect. He took another swig. “I got one or two, I guess.”
“I got all night, my friend. Fire away.” Cliff sat up in his chair.
“Okay, cus, I’ll tell you one, but you gotta promise you’ll never ask me again. I’m not much on talkin’ about myself.”
“Ya got my word!”
Jon fell back in his chair and took a drag on his Havana. A plume of smoke drifted slowly to the ceiling. He was quiet for a while as if in deep thought and then spoke slowly.
“A while back, I was travelin’ down the Santa Fe Trail on my way to California. I’d been ridin’ hard for several days and decided to stop in Las Vegas, New Mexico, and stock up a little. It was a good gaming town, so I decided to spend some time there, do a little gambling and so on.
“I found a good hotel, took a hot bath and headed for a nearby saloon to try and find a game of stud. A short time later, three cowhands came in lookin’ for a fourth, so I joined ’em. After we started playin’, my tooth started botherin’ me again.”
“Your tooth?”
“Yeah, I chipped a tooth during a fight in Hays, Kansas, a few months earlier, and it was really startin’ to hurt. Just as I was dragging in a small pot, the bartender poured me a heapin’ mug of beer fresh out of the root cellar. I took a big swig of that cool beer, and it ran smack dab into my achin’ tooth. The pain shot clean through my body. I jumped clear outta my chair yelping and hollerin’. The other players were laughin’ like crazy.
“‘Get on down to the dentist!’ one of them shouted.
“‘Where the hell is he?’ I hollered.
“‘At the north end of town, right next to the telegraph office.’
“I rushed outta there fast as a jack rabbit, jumped on Babe, and headed for the north end of town. The telegraph office sign and the small building next door were soon in sight. There was a buggy out front. I was heartbroken—I thought there was someone in front of me. But luckily for me, when I hopped down and hurried inside, the big leather dentist’s chair was empty. I looked around the room for the doctor, but he was nowhere to be found. Just then, the back door popped open and this fella hurried in, holding a small metal pan. The sun was bright behind him so he was kind of in the shadows.
“He said hello, slammed the door and pointed toward the chair. Still hurtin’ like crazy, I jumped in that chair like a flash. He started rummaging around on the counter behind me. The scent of expensive cologne filled the air.
“He asked what the problem was. I explained about the chipped tooth and how the pain shot clear through me when I took that swig of cool beer. He looked at me and kind of chuckled. All of a sudden, my seat fell back, and I was staring straight at the ceiling.
“I told him I was Jon Stoudenmire and stuck my hand back over my shoulder for a shake.
“‘John Holliday,’ he said. ‘Glad to meet ya.’ He reached back with his left hand, squeezed my fingers and shook my hand.”
“John who?” Cliff shouted.
Jon smiled at his excited cousin. “As he bent over me, I got a better look at him. There was no doubt about it. It was none other than the famous man killer Doctor John Holliday, bending over me and gettin’ ready to pull my tooth.”
“Well, if that just don’t beat all!”
“Yeah, I was plenty surprised all right. I thought he’d given up dentistry a long time ago. I sure didn’t expect to see him in Las Vegas that day. Maybe he wanted to give dentistry one more shot, or he was tryin’ to go straight or something. I dunno.”
“Go on.” Cliff was getting impatient.
“He stuck his finger in my mouth and looked around a minute. He shook his head and told me it was going to have to come out. He handed me a bottle of whiskey and ask me to take a couple of swigs.
“I grabbed the bottle and kind of hesitated.
“He noticed my reluctance and tried to explain. He said whiskey was the only pain killer he had, and it was strictly for customers only—he never drank out of it.
“So then I took a couple of big swigs.”
“Why’d ya wait to take a drink?”
“Everybody knows Doc’s got consumption—I was too young to die!” Jon laughed.
“Oh yeah, I guess so,” Cliff said.
“He looked kinda dragged out, pale and all. Nothing like I expected, but I guess when you’re s
ick like he is, you don’t look too good. But I tell ya, those blue eyes of his had a mean look to ‘em. I could see a killer there in those eyes.
“He stepped away and started digging through a pile of dental tools or something on that table behind me. Then he told me to grab hold of the sides of the chair. Then the skinny critter climbed on top of me and stuck this god-awful lookin’ pair of pliers way down in my mouth and started yankin’ on that tooth. I thought his eyeballs were gonna pop out of his head. All of the sudden, he jumped off of the chair and started waving that bloody tooth around. He was like a kid in a candy store! I couldn’t believe how excited he got. He stuck it in front of me so I could get at good look at it. He dropped it in a metal pan on the table, washed his hands again and stuffed a whole wad of cotton in my mouth.”
“How’d he do?”
“I’ll have to say, for as shaky as he was, he did a pretty damn good job. It didn’t hurt near as bad as I thought it would. And surprisingly, he didn’t get a drop of my blood on that fancy silk shirt and tie he was wearin’.
“After a couple of minutes, he pulled that big piece of cotton out of my mouth, pulled the side of my mouth open and looked inside. After stuffing a smaller piece of cotton in, he told me to shut my mouth.
“He reached down for the handle on the chair and gave it a yank. He was stronger than I expected. The chair popped up, and he looked over at me and smiled. Then he said something that really surprised me. He looked me straight in the eye and said that he had always wanted to meet me. He said Wyatt told him a few years ago that I was one tough son-of-a-bitch. My face got a little red when he said that.”
“As red as it is now?” Cliff quipped.
“Yeah, I guess so,” the embarrassed gunman replied.
“What happened next?”
“Then he told me that he and his long time girl, Kate, better known as Big Nose Kate, got in one whale of a fight back in Dodge, so he left town and headed for Colorado. He said he landed in Trinidad, where a young gunhand named Kid Colton badgered him into a fight. In an attempt to defend himself, he shot him dead. Fearing reprisals from the locals, he didn’t linger long in Trinidad. He packed up and headed out for New Mexico Territory. He said he was tired of all the killing and hoping for a new beginning, so he thought he’d try dentistry again. Then he kind of sighed, dumped my tooth in a trash can and walked over to the front door. Looking a little down, he grabbed the most expensive lookin’ suit coat I’ve ever seen off the hook on the door and slipped it on. As I was climbing out of the chair, I asked him how business was going.