We had to shout to make Preacher Dob hear us, on account of the storm. We asked him, Where’s Zechariah! Is he alive!
Preacher Dob hollered, He’s hurt and he’s gone after the panther!
We mounted, two and two as before, Sam clinging behind Mr Pacheco, and set off down the canyon after the dog, traveling in the direction the water was running. We did not have a easy go. We thought we heard Zechariah bawling a time or two, but none of us was sure. The center of the canyon was by now a stream about half thigh deep, nearly up to the horses’ bellies. Therefore we was compelled to ride on the slopes, where the mud sucked at the horses’ hooves and rocks give way beneath them. The horses was not happy and stumbled a good bit. We was traveling the direction the water was flowing. The pinto was willing and well trained and my mare was faithful to the core, but it was a lot to ask of them and they was not pretending to like it.
Preacher Dob said he could not tell which way we was even heading.
Mr Pacheco said he thought we was about to strike the Medina River.
We traveled maybe half a hour down the canyon. It was getting toward night by then. However, it had felt like night nearly all day long, so the time was not of great importance to us. We kept on until the canyon run headlong into a good sized river out of its banks and moving at a clip, which Mr Pacheco knew to be the Medina.
Where the canyon struck the river we come across Zechariah holed up under a wide overhang of rock that faced the river. He did not show a great deal of life other than the feeble barking he attempted to do. He was wet through, shaking, whimpering, laying on his side, and pretty well done with it all. He thumped his tail a time or two, to say he was glad to see us.
Preacher Dob was sure glad to see him. He got him in his arms despite that the skunk odor was no better for him being sopping wet. I think he must of always been fond of the dog but now had a added respect. He said he believed the dog was barking just to hear hisself bark and prove to hisself he was still vital. He said he had seen people mumble theirselves right up to the pearly gates to prove to theirselves, word by word, that they was not yet entered.
The dog had sure done his best. The panther had tore him up. His neck was sliced up in a way that made the fur not hang right. The water dripping off him was red on account of being so bloody. Also the pads of his feet was cut up and practically wore off. I have seen chunks of meat that looked less worse than that. He was a pitiful sight.
Mr Pacheco said it might be a kindness to put a end to his suffering.
Preacher Dob declined to do such a thing just yet.
Mr Pacheco offered to do it if it become necessary.
Preacher Dob looked like he might break down at that thought. However, he held up all right. He said, I already lost my horse and I am not going to give up on Zechariah. We have been together too long. He said he would do right by Zechariah hisself, if the time should come.
We secured the horses and sheltered under the ledge of rock with the dog, because where was we supposed to go. We sat staring at the river through the rain. It was muddy and moving at such a pace there was eddies and waves. Mr Pacheco ventured a short distance and studied our whereabouts, looking upriver and down and calculating what he was able to figure from what light there was left in the day. He come back and said he thought we was downriver from Bandera a good ways.
We did what we could for the dog and tired to figure a course of action, but did not triumph in either regard. Mr Pacheco discovered the last of his powder was wet, so we had no hope even of shooting a rabbit. Preacher Dob was cheered that the wet powder forestalled any chance of having to shoot his dog.
Sam was looking more poorly by the minute. She sat beside me hunched over in a woeful, gloomy manner with her clawed up neck wrapped up in Mr Pacheco’s shirt sleeve. Mr Pacheco was not wearing his poncho, as it was wool, soaked wet, and more trouble than it was worth. Therefore he had a bare arm. We was all shaking cold.
You would of thought Sam might feel a calling to at least own up to the fact that none of us would of even been there by that river if not for her being so willful. For six whole years she had talked of nearly nothing but killing the panther, and now here we was, having followed her inclinations, all of us doing her bidding, perhaps each for our own purpose, I will grant you that, but swayed by her wishful thinking and dire need. We was not in a respectable situation. We was wet through, shivering cold, and hungry. We was lost but for knowing we was somewhere on the river.
Considering where we was and thinking how she had got us here, I commenced to fume. I said, Did you never even stop to think how bad a panther’s hide might stink nailed up and drying out. Did you never stop to think of nothing that is real. You have put yourself on a single track, heading but one way, and here is where it has brought you. And where is here. You don’t even know. It is a cold miserable place and you have got your neck wrapped up in Mr Pacheco’s shirt sleeve and leaving him with a bare arm in the freezing cold. I would not care one thing about you being here if I did not have to be here with you.
They was rude things to say to her and I should not of laid it on her as thick as I done. I might of stopped there, but she give me a look like Juda, as if she cared nothing for me or my thoughts, and turned her face from me and looked at the water, and said, Talk all you want, I ain’t listening.
My feelings come boiling up then. I said, All these years you been saying you had powers to know that panther was coming around, and we was just now in a cave with it and you was dumb to the fact. You know nothing. You can’t do nothing without me making it happen for you. You been saying I ain’t your boss. Well you ain’t mine neither. I am tired of being trod on. I have fed you, clothed you, and done for you, whilst you have not lifted a finger. You might be more clever than me, but you are littler than me, and a girl, and a half nigger, and I have been long suffering long enough. When we get out of this place and get you home, I will see things become different.
Judge, they was hard and thoughtless words, the evilest I ever said that I remember. I am sorry to this day. Sam did not so much as turn to look at me. It was even the case that Preacher Dob and Mr Pacheco felt no need to remark upon what I said, as I guess they figured I had a point about some, if not the worst, of it, and I guess they also figured it was not the time for me to of made it. I did not feel much relieved for having done so.
Sam sat and said nothing. She watched the water. As wrong as I felt for my words, I was still mad and nearly wished I could shove her into the flow.
It was a long, long, long night that come upon us then. I will not go into a lot about it, as what is the point of that. Also there is not a lot about it to tell you, as it was all of one piece, like the flow of the river, just time going by. It was dark, cold, hungry, miserable time that gone by, and the sole comfort I took in it was knowing that every minute got me closer to having it over.
Mr Pacheco did manage to build us a small fire with wood of a old dead tree that had kept dry enough under the ledge, and to keep it going. However, it was the coldest fire I ever knew, as the wood was not much and the rain run down before us in sheets off the wall of rock we was sheltered under, and splattered in upon us.
Preacher Dob borrowed me his spectacles again, but what was there to see. A sputtering fire alongside me and a sheet of rain before me, was all. There was nothing to listen to, neither, just the loud water. We could hear nothing else. No night birds, no crickets nor frogs, no coyotes nor wolves howling nor any varmints rustling about. There was no thunder now, neither. There was just the never ending sound of the water spilling down off the wall we was tucked under, and rushing by alongside in the canyon we come out of, and running fast in the river before us. There was just these sounds and the smell of cold smoke and wet dog, and blood, and skunk.
Preacher Dob said a prayer over Zechariah.
Sam said, Will the Lord answer.
Preacher Dob said we would have to wait and see.
Sam said, He’s a wait and see Lord, ain’t
he.
Preacher Dob said she was right about that.
He’s a hide and seek, wait and see Lord, she said.
Preacher Dob was forlorn. He hunched over Zechariah in his lap and dozed as best as he was able.
The dog shivered and panted. He licked his lips as sick dogs do. On occasion he growled or barked like he was dreaming about the panther.
Mr Pacheco kept going along under the overhang to cut more dry wood out of the dead tree. The rest of the time he sat staring at the rain. He was a fine looking man the day before in his good looking outfit, but now he looked no better than Preacher Dob. They both was unshaved and dripping. They was old enough to start with and had gone downhill.
We none of us talked much nor made a attempt to work out a plan of what to do next. What kind of a plan could we even do. We wanted nothing but out of where we was and to have dry clothes, and food, and a better fire. I could of spit on our fire and put it out, it was so puny. Also, the incline we was on was such that if we would of stretched out we would of rolled down into the river, so we had to watch out for ourselves. The river was not more than thirty feet down. I guess Mr Pacheco was the only one amongst us who did not want to go home, as he did not have one to go to.
Sam leaned on me and slept. There was a sharp rock under me and I could not get comfortable without waking her, so I had to let her be. I begrudged her the comfort but my father would not of been proud of me if I had shoved her off me whilst she was sleeping when she was hurt and might roll into a river. So I let her be.
That is what happened in the night. It was not much. It was no fun. The horses did not like the time, neither. They shifted about and stood the rain pouring on them the best they could.
Toward daylight the rain ceased. Dawn come along gray as a wolf.
And who should come along with it but Clarence Hanlin.
You can bet I was not too happy to blink and see him. It was like he sprung up out of the mud. Our horses stomped and shifted, I looked up, and there he stood, not ten feet off, on the incline between us and the river, evil as ever and aiming his pistol up at us. He had snuck up. He had his pistol in his left hand on account of his right was wrapped in a filthy bandage nearly as big as his head. But no matter, he terrified me, pistol nor none, in right hand or left. He was not as wet as us, on account of he had on a poncho made of black India rubber. He wore a mean look on his face, with a haversack over his shoulder, and did not appear to of suffered the kind of night we had bore.
He said, Well, well. Top of the morning to you four fine people.
Sam and Preacher Dob woke up at hearing his voice.
Zechariah seen Hanlin despite that his good eye was looking the other direction. He growled.
Mr Pacheco had been in the act of laying twigs on the fire. He now sat there looking at Hanlin and holding them twigs.
Hanlin slogged up the hill and come close to us. He said, Fancy this. I was idly walking along down this river and I happened across sight of you four having a see-esta here and recollected that one of you owed me a hundred dollars. Might that be you, Pacheco.
Mr Pacheco stood up but did not answer one way or another, as we all knew it was him that owed it, and answering nonsense such as that would give it credence.
Hanlin said, So I come up to see if I might collect. Also, I am scratching my head here, but I seem to recall that one of you has my pistol. It ain’t you, Pacheco. I see that’s your own that you have. And mine is no pepperbox like what my Uncle Dob’s got. So the one belonging to me must be the pistol the boy has got tucked in his belt. Might that be true, Benjamin.
I said, Yes sir, it is.
Hand it over, said he. Get it out of your belt. Lay it here at my feet.
I done so and sat back down.
Preacher Dob rose to his feet. He was wobbly on account of our hard couple of days and nights. He said, Clarence, none of us needs your show. Quit acting the smart ass. You shot my horse. You bothered these kids. You was in on hanging innocent men, despite that you deny it. Have you not brought enough shame on your family already.
Hanlin took a moment with that. He squinted his droopy eye and looked Preacher Dob over. He said in a way to prove he was boss, Uncle Dob, give me the pepperbox and what’s left of that rifle. Shove it over here.
Preacher Dob appeared disgusted, but done so.
Hanlin picked up the pistols and tucked them into his belt. He said, Now give me yours too, Pacheco. If you don’t, I think I’ll just tug on my trigger and shoot you in the face.
He aimed his pistol at Mr Pacheco and we all of us thought he might shoot him. I guess it was not the first time Mr Pacheco seen a gun close up pointed at him, as he already had powder marks deep on his face, as I have before told you. He did not flinch nor draw back. It was a long minute that passed that way before Hanlin raised up the gun and shot into the sky, knocking down branches.
Is there no bottom to your meanness, nephew, Preacher Dob said.
Hanlin owned there was not. He said his friends that was coming along was no nicer. I’ll have your pistol, Pacheco, he said. Wet or not. Holster and all. Flask as well.
Mr Pacheco taken the rig off and laid it all down and shoved it forward to him.
Preacher Dob said, Clarence, if you harm these kids you’re going to hell.
Hanlin picked up the rig and hung the belt over a branch. He pulled the pistol out and stuck it in his own belt. He now had our three pistols with mucky powder, along with his own that was dry and worked fine. He had a large hack knife in his belt too. He looked in a pointed way at the pinto. It appears like one of you might have something else that don’t belong to you, he said. And if I ain’t wrong, the owner is heading this way. It’s a patch of bad luck you are having, Pacheco. I am having a lucky day, and you are not. I have got all these pistols with me, whilst all you got with you is a long winded preacher, a stinking dog, a boy too big for his britches, and a ugly little wee nigger.
Mr Pacheco appeared to ponder that. He said, The day is even more lucky for you than you know. Today you can make a fortune.
Hanlin looked askance at him and said, How might that happen.
Sam figured what Mr Pacheco was fixing to say, and sprung to her feet like a grasshopper. It is my right to shoot the panther! she hollered at Mr Pacheco. Don’t you go egging him on to do it!
Mr Pacheco told her to hush. He commenced to tell Hanlin about the bounty for the panther. He said, However, you will need me to tell you who is offering the bounty, where it is, and how to collect it.
Hanlin said, Bounty, my ass. That panther is gone. I come for my pistol, my hundred dollars, and that horse.
Mr Pacheco give him a nod. He said if this was the case, Hanlin’s luck had run thin, as the only dollars he had on him was not real ones and there was not nearly a hundred of them, and what there was of them was wet and likely coming to pieces in his saddlebags, as counterfeit was not sturdy.
You goddamn son of a bitch! Hanlin hollered. You owe me a reliable hundred dollars! Unless you got the panther tied to a tree or penned somewhere that I can shoot him, I am not interested in your two thousand dollars that is somewhere you won’t tell me. I will shoot you in the face, you son of a bitch. You better come up with a offer I want, or I’ll string up these kids! Don’t think I won’t. I strung up grown men on the Julian and watched them jerk. There’s a rope on your saddle there long enough to hang these kids with no problem. I’ll do it. I’ll watch their necks pop.
Those was his words that he spoke in just that order, Judge. That is the true admission he made. He stood in a arrogant stance under wet branches that dripped on him whilst the river flowed reckless behind him out of banks at a pace that would make you dizzy to watch for too long. He confessed it all in more detail than we wanted to hear. He told us he and some of the other soldiers in his command walked the captives off from the place they was encamped in the dead of the night and hanged them one after another whilst the others looked on. He said the noose was tied around their
necks and tossed over a sturdy limb, the other end of the rope was tied to a saddle, and the horse spurred forward. All the prisoners was strung up that way but the last. He asked to be shot, and mercy was taken on him.
It weren’t me that taken the mercy, Hanlin boasted.
Preacher Dob looked like he might break down from hearing the spiteful nature of these words. He said aloud, I will not tell my sister. I will not breathe a word of what I just heard. Any of you who live may do so, but I will not shatter my sister’s heart.
Hanlin got a biscuit and salt meat out of his haversack and made a show of partaking. He said, This meal is sure tasty. Too bad there is none for any of you. However, you all did have a considerable breakfast two days past in your stinking house, when I was allowed none and suffering over my finger.
He smacked his lips and took a firm look at the horses. He approached the pinto and patted him down. He said, Uncle Dob, did you call me a idiot yesterday. How do you think I found you, if I’m a idiot. The fact is, I’m a genius. I figured you’d follow that canyon you took off for, and end up right about here. So I rode ahead of my companions, tied my horse yonder at a creek he was having a hard time with, come across on a log jam, and walked on down this way. And sure enough, here you are. It looks to me like you’re the idiot, Uncle Dob. Not me.
He continued to feed hisself the salt meat and biscuits and he waved the pistol about and made a show of giving the mare a pat on her rump.
I have told you, Judge, how much the mare liked a pat on her rump. What happened was faster than I can tell you about it. The mare wheeled about and got a firm grip within her teeth on the hand he patted her with. It was the one within the bandage. When she got hold of it, Hanlin hollered and part of his biscuit come flying out of his mouth. He knocked the mare over the head with his pistol. But she did not turn loose of the bandage. I think he could of beat her brains out and she would not of turned loose of it. He commenced to scream in a terrible manner. I think he thought he might wind up short of another finger. I thought he might find hisself short a whole hand. The mare yanked his arm and tossed him hither and yon like he was a rag doll that come to life and learned to scream. It might of been only a second or two but it seemed a lot longer. It was a hubbub I will not forget. Preacher Dob and Mr Pacheco pounced on Hanlin and wrestled him out of the pistols. They whacked him and socked him about. Before long, the pistols was all in the hands of Mr Pacheco whilst Preacher Dob had hold of the knife. There stood the mare, stamping her feet and snorting and swinging the empty bandage like she was having a fun time with it. There stood Mr Pacheco with the loaded pistol aimed at Hanlin. There laid Hanlin upon the ground in his rubber poncho, howling about his hand. His head was gory and his mouth crumbly with biscuit and bleeding and missing a tooth.
The Which Way Tree Page 17