by Jordan Krall
“What about the stranger? The one that came into town today?”
Kersey shrugged. “Two strangers came in today. Which one are you talking about?”
“Whichever one blew the legs off that asshole outside.”
“I guess either of them might be upstairs. I don’t know but you feel free to check.”
“I don’t need your fucking permission,” Sheriff Doyle said. He walked up the stairs slowly. He started checking every room. Half of the rooms were empty while a couple of others were being occupied by the familiar faces of men who Doyle knew weren’t suspects.
He got to the room with the broken window. When he saw it was empty, he swore loudly. Then he went to the room next to it and saw the body of Merrick, his purple beard still twitching slightly.
“Fucking hell!” Sheriff Doyle walked downstairs and slammed his fists on the counter. He grabbed Kersey’s shirt. “Were you going to tell me about the fucking dead man upstairs?”
“Dead man? What dead man?”
“Karl Merrick. Purple beard. Sound familiar?” Sheriff Doyle said, shaking Kersey hard. “Does it have anything to do with Nix and those assholes?”
“I don’t know, sheriff. Honest.”
Sheriff Doyle let go of Kersey and ran his hands through his hair. “I am seriously getting sick of this shit.”
“Me, too.”
“Shut the fuck up and go fetch Doctor West so he could take care of Karl. Got it?”
“Yeah, I got it.”
“And if you see either of those guys, you let me know immediately. Do you understand that?”
“Sure thing, sheriff. I see the strangers, I’ll let you know.”
Sheriff Doyle walked out of the hotel and saw that the doctor and his sons were carrying Ryan Hickory to Doctor West’s place. Chaps and Nix were able to walk on their own albeit slowly and painfully.
Doyle shouted. “Didn’t Lyons tell you dumb assholes to wait?”
Nix turned and said, “Fuck you.”
The sheriff shook his head. Those boys would never learn.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Calamaro tied his donkey to a wooden cross that stuck out of the ground in the backyard of the brothel. He wondered why the man had been buried all alone back there. He walked across the cemetery with one grave and went through the back door.
Betty was at a table counting money. She spoke without looking up. “I knew you’d be coming around. Heard the explosion and just knew you had something to do with it.”
Calamaro said, “That a problem? I can leave.”
“No, you don’t have to leave.” Betty stopped counting and looked up at him. She smiled. “You’re a good man. Maybe not the smartest but you have a good heart.”
“I wouldn’t think me a saint if I was you. Not just yet.”
“What? You come here to rob me?”
Calamaro laughed. “No, I didn’t come here to rob you. But don’t think me some angel coming here to clean up your town. That’s supposed to be the sheriff’s job.”
“You haven’t met our sheriff, then, have you?”
“I haven’t had the pleasure, no.”
Betty motioned for him to follow her and he did. She brought him down a dimly lit hallway and into a small room that had been painted bright red. “Have a seat,” she said.
Calamaro sat on a chair across from Betty who sat down on a well-worn Victorian couch. “Nice room,” he said.
“Thank you. Everything was brought straight from England.” She patted the couch cushion as if to show him how soft it was. “You don’t mind, can I ask you something?”
Calamaro nodded.
“What happened to your ear or does everyone ask you that and you’re sick of answering?”
“Someone shot at it is all. There’s no special story behind it.”
“Was it in the war?”
“No, I didn’t take a part in the war.”
Betty leaned back and crossed her legs. “Most of the men who come through town either fought in the war or lie and say they fought in it. I don’t remember the last time I heard a man from out of town admit he didn’t fight.”
“I believe it,” he said. “Most men are liars.”
“How about you? You a liar?”
“I’m a lot of things but not a liar. If there’s something I don’t want someone to know, I just keep my mouth shut.”
“How does that work out?”
Calamaro smiled. “Usually just makes me look mysterious.”
Betty laughed. “Well, let me ask you a question and if you want, you can stay mysterious. How about that?’
“Sounds fine.”
“Where’re you coming from, Calamaro?”
“Does it matter?”
“Where’re you going?”
“Does that matter?”
Betty smiled and shrugged. “Guess not. Just curious, though. I’ve been here for a long time and so I forget what it’s like in other places.”
“I came from the east. The eastern coast.”
“Any special reason why you left?”
Calamaro took off his hat and set it on the floor next to him. “Just decided to leave. Wasn’t much left for me there.”
“You don’t have no family or nothing?”
“Yes,” he said. “I have a family.”
“You left them?”
Calamaro hesitated for a few seconds and then said, “Yes, I left them. A wife and a little girl.”
Betty had been looking him right in the eye during the whole conversation but when he said this, she stared at him with more intensity. “You left your wife and child behind?”
“Yes.”
“Guess I should’ve expected that. You know, you being a man and all.”
Calamaro said, “That’s another story I’ve told too many times.”
“I’m not forcing you to tell me anything.”
Calamaro grabbed his hat from the floor. “Do you have somewhere I can stay just for tonight?”
Betty stood up abruptly and adjusted her dress. “Guess you can stay in this room if you’d like. No one comes back here but me. That is, if you don’t mind sleeping on the couch or the floor.”
“I don’t mind.”
“I’ll get you a blanket and some whiskey for the night. I’ll bring in a bedpan, too,” Betty said. “If the sheriff decides to search the place, I really can’t do anything more than maybe warn you a few minutes ahead of time. Just so you know.”
“A warning is more than enough.”
“Well then, I’ll be back in a few minutes.” Betty walked out of the room, closing the door behind her. She angrily walked down the hallway and into the front of the brothel. Stacklee was tending the bar.
“Betty, you ready to take over?” he said. Stacklee hated playing bartender. Though most of the patrons didn’t do anything outwardly hostile to him, they still didn’t show him the proper respect. Still, at the present moment there weren’t any customers so he was eager to be relieved of his duty before a crowd came in.
“Just give me a minute, will you?” Betty grabbed a bottle of whiskey and then went into the closet for a blanket. She was angry as hell but didn’t want to show it to Stacklee. He’d ask what was wrong and she’d feel guilty if she didn’t explain. But how could she? How could she tell him that she was disappointed that the kind-hearted stranger in town turned out to be just another lousy man who abandoned his family?
Stacklee said, “Something bothering you, Betty?”
“Don’t worry about it, Stacklee.”
“I always worry, you know that. It’s a curse. I worry about me and I worry about you. I worry about all the girls. I thought that’s why you hired me.”
“I appreciate it but it’s just something small and stupid.”
“It about Calamaro?”
Betty stopped fiddling in the closet. “How’d you know?”
“One of the girls saw him from a window upstairs. Said he came in through the back door. He here?”
“Who said he came in?”
“Lady Troy.”
Betty frowned. “I have to tell that girl to keep her mouth shut.”
“So, he here or what?” Stacklee said.
“Yes, he’s in the back but keep quiet about it.”
“I will.” Stacklee laughed. “I guess he had something to do with that explosion. Poor old Ryan Hickory lost his legs.”
“It was Ryan?” Betty smiled. “I wish it were Nix.”
“Me too. So what’s the problem?”
“Turns out our little hero is just a typical son of a bitch. Left a wife and daughter back east and here he is in a whorehouse and he’ll probably want a free one. That really sticks in my craw.”
“You’re angry at him leaving his wife and daughter?” Stacklee laughed.
“What the hell is so goddamned funny, Stacklee?”
“Betty, his wife and daughter are dead, killed by Union soldiers who thought they were spies. He didn’t mention that?”
“No, he didn’t. He said he didn’t want to talk about it. Why’d he tell you?”
“Because he had too much whiskey, that’s why.”
Betty felt like a jack-ass but thanked her lucky stars that she hadn’t yet taken her anger out on Calamaro. “I might’ve misjudged him, then.”
“Guess you did, Betty. But if you don’t mind, I’ll take him the whiskey and blanket and you can watch the bar.”
Betty let him do just that because she was afraid to talk to Calamaro again so soon. She knew that she was in no real position to judge considering she ran a whorehouse but it just bothered her to think someone would just leave their family.
A few minutes later, Stacklee came back and said, “Calamaro wants to talk to you, Betty.”
She nodded and walked back to the room. When she entered, he was lying on the couch with his feet up. His dusty boots were on the floor and his hat was over his face.
Betty said, “You taking a nap?”
“No, just resting my eyes.”
“Stacklee said you wanted to talk with me.”
“That’s right.” Calamaro took the hat off his face and sat up. “He said you got the wrong impression of me. Thought I abandoned my family. I just wanted to explain things better.”
“There’s no need to explain. It’s your business, not mine.” She didn’t want to make him feel like he needed to justify himself to her. He was a grown man and whatever had happened to him and his family was none of her concern.
“I usually don’t care what people think but it does bother me that you had the impression I left my wife and daughter. I opened my mouth half way so I might as well go through with it. I’d feel better. I already told Stacklee but that was only because I had too much whiskey and couldn’t keep my trap shut.”
“You don’t have to tell me anything.”
“I know I don’t but now I want to.”
“I imagine that’s something most people wouldn’t want to talk about.”
“That’s true but you’ve been kind to me so I don’t mind telling you,” Calamaro said. He stared at the floor as he spoke. “My wife and daughter were killed by some men and since then I’ve just been trying to find some peace. I spend a lot of time grieving and a lot of that grieving involved me being a mean son of a bitch. But I think that part of me has passed on.”
“I could see that.”
“And since then, every time I’m with a woman, a whore or whatnot, I close my eyes and think of my wife. I know that sounds like a lie but it’s not. I just can’t bear the thought of my wife being gone so I just try to get some of those feelings back. That sounds strange, I know, screwing women while mourning my wife but that’s just what I end up doing.”
Betty smiled. “That’s sweet in a strange sort of way.”
“Guess so. I don’t know. I don’t imagine my wife would like it if she were alive.”
“I’m sure she’d be okay with it. You’d be surprised at how understanding a woman can be.”
“Maybe,” Calamaro said. He stood up from the couch. “My daughter was only one years old when she was killed. That probably hurts worst of all, knowing I’ll never get the chance to talk to her, have a conversation with her, get to know her, see her married and have children of her own. A child that young is still a baby, still learning about the world but now she’s…..”
“She’s in heaven, Calamaro, don’t you forget that.”
“Not sure I believe in heaven, Betty. Some men shoot your wife and child, you tend to think the Lord don’t care much about his flock or maybe that God died way back when and he no longer has the power to protect anybody. Why the hell would he let some bastards shoot an innocent baby that’s done nothing wrong? What part of his divine plan is that? You know what my preacher said after it happened? He said that it was all God’s plan to bring me back to church, bring me back to the Lord. If God thought that was going to bring me back, he can go to Hell.”
Betty had expected tears to well up in his eyes when speaking about his dead wife and child but instead she saw rage.
“I can understand that,” she said. “You mind if I ask? Are you out for revenge? You tracking the men who did it?”
“No.” The rage in Calamaro’s face subsided. “I already killed them. They were soldiers fighting for the Union. They weren’t good soldiers, just men who took up arms to fight the Confederates. Hell, I don’t think they even cared about the Union. I think they just wanted to shoot people.”
Betty said, “I’ve met a lot of soldiers who are like that.”
“Well, these bastards thought my wife was a spy on account she was born in Kentucky and had family there. They heard some nasty rumors about her. They shot her and when my daughter wouldn’t stop crying, they shot her, too. They were stupid enough to hang around and eat the dinner that my wife had prepared for me. I came home while they were having at the food.”
Calamaro took out a cigarette, lit it, and then offered one to Betty. She shook her head.
“I was lucky I had my pistol with me. I was even luckier that the bastards were worn out from eating and drinking. You should’ve seen their faces, all messy with food like they were pigs on a farm. I saw what they done, saw the bodies lying there two feet from where they were eating. Then I shot them all dead. I didn’t have to think about it. My hand just grabbed my pistol and it was like my body was moving by itself. Bang, bang, bang. It was over that quick.”
Betty walked over to the couch and sat next to him. She put her hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry about your family and I’m sorry that I made you feel you had to explain it to me. It was none of my business.”
Calamaro said, “You know, you’d think a man might feel satisfied having killed the men who killed his family. But sometimes I wish that I came to the house after they left and that I’d have to hunt them down. At least then I’d have a purpose in life, something to do, something to think about, something to accomplish. The revenge was over too quick. Too quick to make me feel any better about seeing my wife and daughter dead on the floor.”
Betty put her other hand on his leg and squeezed it. She didn’t intend it to be a means of seduction but that’s how Calamaro took it. He grabbed the back of her head and pushed it towards him, forcing their lips to meet. Betty’s tongue entered his mouth, exploring every inch of his teeth. She had always loved teeth.
She whispered. “I’m sorry about your wife.” Another kiss. “I’m sorry about your daughter.” Another kiss. “I’m sorry about everything.” Another kiss but this one was deeper and wetter. She pulled him onto her and then felt his erection as it poked the inside of her thigh. “Close your eyes, Calamaro. Close your eyes and think of her.”
He did just that as they made love on the couch and then the floor. Betty kept her eyes open, looking at this handsome man as he entered her again and again. His eyes were closed but his mouth was open just a little bit. She wanted him to feel like he was making love to his wife again not just some whorehouse
madam in a dusty town. His face was beautiful, she decided, not just handsome. Even his mangled ear was beautiful. She touched it gently.
“Deeper, Calamaro, deeper,” Betty said softly. “I love you.” She felt him thrust deeper. “I love you.” She felt him thrust deeper still. “I love you!” She felt him thrust deeper and harder while he pressed his open lips to hers, kissing and licking her.
A shout from the front of the brothel interrupted them.
“Where is he?” it said, loud and forceful. “Where the fuck is that stranger?”
Betty said, “It’s the sheriff. You have to leave. Stacklee will probably be able to stall him for a few minutes but that’s all.”
Calamaro slowly opened his eyes and lazily rolled off her. He put his hat on first and then his boots. “Guess I’ll get going, then.”
“What’re you going to do?”
“Guess we’ll find out soon enough.”
Betty pulled her dress down and stood up. “You best just leave. Just go. The next town is Keoma and it ain’t that far away. You leave now he probably won’t even bother you. The sheriff’s pretty lazy.”
“Thanks but I’d soon as just stay here and see how things work out.”
“You’re a stubborn son of a bitch, aren’t you?”
“Yep.”
Betty pushed him towards the door. “Now get! Use the back door! If you want to stay in town, fine, but don’t go having a shoot-out in the middle of my place.”
Betty fixed up her hair and walked towards the front hoping she’d be able to convince the sheriff to leave. She wondered how he knew that Calamaro was there. Did Lady Troy tell him? She hoped not.
Though he would have rather stayed and face the sheriff, Calamaro walked out. He went over to his donkey and started to untie it. That’s when he felt something hit the side of his head. At first he thought it was just a desert fly that flew into him but then he felt blood drip down his neck. He turned around and saw something fast coming towards his face. It was a lot bigger than a fly.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
William Lyons looked down at the unconscious Calamaro. He turned to Nix. “Help me carry this fucker and that wooden donkey out of town. I have plans for him.”