The night didn’t bring no sleep. I tried, Lord I tried, but sleep just wouldn’t come ta me. I lay in bed next ta Betty and stared at the ceiling again. These past few nights I been starin’ at it so much I figured I should put a book up there.
The moonlight was comin’ through the blinds again and I wondered if that was what kept me up. I went ta the winda and looked down on the street and closed the blinds. Then I came back and got in bed and stared at the ceiling again. As wide awake as a calf at a butcher’s ball. So I got up and went outside. The night air was cool. A phenomena that always impressed me. It could be damn well swelterin’ durin’ the day and drop ta freezin’ at night. I got caught once out there in the desert searchin’ for a horse of a widow that had run off. Got colder than ice and I swear that I could see my breath in the moonlight. I just wasn’t dressed for that and me and April shivered all the way back ta town. I wondered what snakes and such did at night. Probably buried themselves in the sand. It’d be easy too since they ain’t got no limbs. There’s a reason for everythin’.
I stood at the porch and looked on ta the lantern up by the mercantile and the two lanterns on either side a the door at Gunner’s. I couldn’t see inside but I could hear the piano and the hollerin’ a the drunks and the gamblers. I hoped they could keep it civil tonight cause I sure didn’t feel like goin’ down and tacklin’ no drunk boys right now.
I got a blanket from inside and wrapped it round my shoulders and came back out and sat in the rockin’ chair. The crickets were chirpin’ and I heard a dog somewhere farther inta town. I glanced over ta the spot Missy had been found in. There was nothin’ there now; even the blood on the dirt was gone. There was nothin’ but memories ta prove she was even alive.
The next thing I knew, I woke up with Andy’s hand on my shoulder. The sun was bright in the sky and people were just beginnin’ ta come out and go bout their day. I looked ta him and scoffed and he had a big dopey grin on his face.
“Get in a fight with the Mrs.?”
“Nah, I just couldn’t sleep. Came out here ta watch the town a spell.”
“Well that ain’t gonna help your sleep. My mama always gave us milk and had us count sheep. You know, jumpin’ over a fence or some such?”
I sat up and stretched my back, lettin’ the blanket fall over the chair. I raised my arms ’bove my head and turned my neck in a circle. “You on your way in?” I said.
“I was on my way to get you, actually.”
“What for?”
“Doc had news and I was wonderin’ if you’d heard.”
“What news?”
“About the girl. Missy. He says he’s concluded that the marks on her body are teeth marks and that twas a wolf pack that killed her. Whole town’s heard by now and if they ain’t they will.”
“Wolf pack?” I said, starin’ off toward the Doc’s house. “Come with me.”
We walked down and across the street and passed some horses ridden by men headin’ out ta the fields; their sons ridin’ too so they can bring the horses back for the day. I felt odd on business not havin’ my badge but I thought it’d be all right for this one thing.
I saw the mayor cross the street and nodded and he nodded back. I went up ta the Doc’s house and went inside without knockin’. Andy followed me. The house was quiet and I didn’t hear no noise. I hoped he wasn’t still sleepin’.
“Doc? You up?”
I heard feet shufflin’ and saw the Doc come round the corner drinkin’ coffee and in his sleepin’ clothes lookin’ at me like I was four quarters shy of a dollar.
“Pologize for bargin’ in, Doc. The door was open.”
“Jesse, just cause you the sheriff don’t mean—”
“I said I was sorry. You should lock your door, Doc. Locks is expensive and there’s only but a handful of em in town. Use em if you got em.”
He kept his eyes on me as he took a sip a the coffee and mumbled somethin’ I couldn’t hear. “What is it you want?”
“I heard somethin’ that I had ta talk ta ya bout.”
“So talk.”
“Andy here heard that ya said a wolf pack killed Missy Henderson.”
“I certainly did.”
I was bout ta follow up and saw the mayor behind me in the doorway. He didn’t say nothin’ so I just went on. “Well yesterday you said wasn’t no way it was a wolf. And now you tellin’ me it was. What changed in the space a twelve hours?”
“I reconsidered the evidence.”
“And what evidence was that?”
“The breasts looked torn away. That could damn well be a wolf.”
“Damn well be and is are two different things, Doc. That ain’t no wolf attack and I refuse ta believe you think it is.”
“Jesse,” the mayor said, comin’ in and puttin’ his hand on my shoulder, “let’s talk outside.” I followed him out and we stood on the Doc’s porch. “Jesse, Dr. Stevens stands by his decision. I’ve already spoken to him about it.”
“I’m sure ya have.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It just means it’s odd that’s all. It’s odd that he was so certain yesterday and now he changed his mind.”
“Science is a fickle thing. The point is, Jesse, he’s the expert. He believes it was a wolf pack, let it be a wolf pack. Did you know that old Mrs. Johnson didn’t go for her walk this morning? She’s been going on her walk in this town for twenty years. She’s nearly a staple of the community with those walks. But she was too frightened to go out. Is that the kind of fear you want perpetrated in our town?”
“We need ta warn em, Mayor. We need ta warn ever’ female in this town.”
“Warn them of what?”
“That we got a maniac loose.”
“A maniac? Are you drunk? There isn’t any evidence of that.”
“We’re puttin’ a body in the ground tomorrow that’s plenty a evidence.”
“A body that the Good Doctor says was mauled by an animal.”
“We need ta cancel the July Fourth parade.”
The mayor looked at me a moment and then laughed. “You can’t be serious? That’s the biggest holiday in this town. We got people comin’ in from a hundred miles away just to spend the night here and watch our parade. All the businesses need that parade.”
“If it’s a maniac, he could see all em pretty girls out here and he’s gonna—”
“You don’t know a damn thing about maniacs,” he said loudly. He glanced round ta make sure no one had seen his little outburst. “And this town is gonna be open for that parade.”
CHAPTER 6
I went and sat in my office and put my feet up on the desk. Andy was sharpenin’ an old knife he had and he glanced up at me and then back down ta his knife. I stared out the winda and saw the mayor again, hobnobbin’ with some a the business folk.
“Mayor don’t believe you, huh?” Andy said.
“He surely don’t.”
“Well, we don’t know for certain that it’s not wolves.”
“Andy, how many wolves you seen the last year?”
“Last year? None. But I seen em before. They out there. And when they get hungry and there ain’t no other food round they’s attack people. You can bet the farm on that.”
I exhaled. “I been overruled by a drunk doctor and a money hungry sumbitch.”
“That’s what it’s like when you work for someone. I was here with the last sheriff too, and the one before that. Hardest part a this job is when you’s elected you think you independent. But you just got everyone to please now instead a one person. The mayor can fire you too, don’t know if you knew that. Cause he has to approve you for the job and recommend you.”
“I did know that. I read the bylaws in the town charter.”
“The people can fire you too. They can recall you as sheriff.”
“I knew that too.”
“So, really, everyone’s your boss.”
“Andy, I did not think I could be made ta feel wors
e in so short a time but you surely did accomplish that feat.”
The door swung open and Ned Warnick stood there white as a ghost. “Injuns, Sheriff.”
“What in the hell you talkin’ bout, Ned?”
“I was out in the sesame fields when I looked up and saw three injuns on their horses, painted up like the devil himself.”
“What’d they look like?” Andy said.
“They had red paint over em. Their horses had red paint too, one of em had it coverin’ its whole head. And they was nude as the day they was born. All three, and they had them flutes, what you call them flutes that’s made outta people’s bones?”
“A quena,” I said.
“Quena, yeah. They had them hangin’ off themselves.”
“Well what’d they do?” I said.
“What ya mean?”
“I mean did they do anythin’ ta ya?”
“Well, no, Sheriff but they looked at me like they was gonna and I hightailed it outta there. I didn’t wait around.”
“Did they follow ya?”
“No.”
I shook my head. “I’ll come out an take a look, Ned.”
“Bring your Winchester.”
“I will. You go on back ta the fields and keep an eye out for em.”
When he left I reached out ta a cup a coffee I’d made this mornin’ and took a long drink. The coffee was cold and black but I drank it down fore I stood up and got my hat.
“You want help?” Andy said.
“No, I can handle three visitors. They probably just wanted ta trade.”
“You takin’ your Winchester?”
“Nope.”
“You should take your Winchester.”
I looked back ta the rifle. I wasn’t gonna take it cause the last thing I wanted ta do was show our friends that I was intendin’ somethin’ aggressive. But I’d be a fool not ta be protected. So I took my holster and placed my second Colt, the one I kept at the office, in it and walked out the door.
The sun was burnin’ hot and I had ta squint just ta look over the town. I walked back ta my house and out ta the stables and found April in the shade. I went ta the bucket a her food and took out a day-old apple and handfed it ta her. I patted her muzzle a while and we just stood in the shade enjoyin’ each other’s silence.
I saddled her and then rode out and headed outta the town toward the fields. Wasn’t a whole lot you could grow out here but there were a few things. Sesame seeds and beans and peas was all good crops that could take the heat and the droughts. But the profits were lower than cotton and tobacco out East. Peanuts and sweet peppers was good too but harder ta take care of so we didn’t have too many a em.
I went past the tenements where the poor huddled together, five or ten ta a few rooms, and tipped my hat ta a few of the women who did smile. I passed the town gate though it wasn’t really more than a sign and was out in the open desert. I passed by the two hills that flanked the road and then I looked behind me and couldn’t see the town no more. Fore me was nothin’ but sand and hills and shrubs and cactus. Lotta boulders and rocks formed up lookin’ almost like buildins.
I followed the road out ta the fields and saw the workers there already. Weren’t many a em but there was enough that it took me a minute ta count em: twenty-six. Some four years ago, there had been over a hundred men and many more fields but folks started leavin’ Cosgrove ta find work in the bigger cities. Back East was a boomtown, or so I’d heard. Plenty a work in factories. But I didn’t see the point. Slavin’ away without sun or sky just so you could fford a little box ta live in, inside a dirty city. Didn’t make no sense ta me but folks got their own minds ta make up suppose.
I took out a small telescope I had on the saddle and looked through it round the fields. I didn’t see no Indians and the sun was so bright twas blindin’ me a bit so I took the road out through the fields. Folks was waving and sayin’, “How goes it Sheriff?” but I’d nod and keep goin’. I got ta the edge of the fields and looked through the scope again. Out yonder bout two hundred yards I saw some movement. It looked like wild horses and that’s what I thought it was till I saw the sun glimmerin’ off of em. Indians in this part a New Mexico used broken bits of mirror on their clothin’ and horses ta try and fool they enemies inta thinkin’ they had special powers.
A rush of air flew past my face and I thought maybe a breeze was blowin’. It wasn’t till April bucked and squealed like a pig that I realized arrows was flyin’ at us. April nearly threw me off as one nicked her leg and she reared up and I held on ta the reins for dear life. I couldn’t see where they was comin’ from so I ducked low and looked round me. Then I felt the damnedest burnin’ sensation in my shoulder and knew I’d been hit.
The impact was like a train. It threw me off the horse, the arrow continuin’ ta fly with me on it. I hit the ground on my back and April nearly stomped me and I had ta roll and cover my head as she tripped over me. The workers was runnin’ over ta help and they had rifles and pistols out. I got up and saw the slim wood with the feathered end stickin’ outta my shoulder. I knew the tip was barbed and if I tried ta pull it out it’d take flesh and bone with it so I left it in and grabbed April.
Them Indians farther out was runnin’ on us and I heard gunfire as the workers started shootin’ up in the hills. I saw movement up there gainst the backdrop a the sun. I took aim and fired and missed. I saw one jump on down and start runnin’.
Now, in a situation like this, men don’t often think. And I certainly did not. I just felt the pain in my shoulder and the rush and I took off after that Indian after hoppin’ on April. I took after him over the desert and as I came round the hill I saw a group of horses rounded up, no saddles. No other Indians round.
I came right up on him and leapt off my horse like I was a bat outta hell and landed on him. He spun me round and bashed me in the face with his elbow. I headbutted him and his head snapped back and I belted him twice in the face fore he spun off me and tried ta run ta his horse. I grabbed his ankle as I was down on the ground and he pulled on his leg and fell face-first inta the dirt. I got up ta my knees and had my Colt out and pointed at his head.
The man froze. He turned and looked at me, blood runnin’ down his chin. He knew he was bested and he didn’t move. He was a young man, perhaps no older than eighteen though I knew they didn’t know what age was as they didn’t count. From the red paint coverin’ his body, I guessed he was Apache.
He looked at me and our eyes locked. The gun was pointed at his face. I was breathin’ hard and my shoulder felt afire and I didn’t want ta kill no boy. I lowered my weapon and holstered it, just ta show him I wasn’t foolin’. I walked near April and whistled and she ran over ta me even though I could tell she was spooked. I climbed on and looked over ta the boy who got ta his feet. I turned away and began ta ride off.
CHAPTER 7
I screamed like a girl. The whiskey didn’t even touch it.
Layin’ on the Doc’s table with him cuttin’ inta me at the barbs a the arrow, I felt like I was just bout ta urinate myself it was so painful and I wondered if the Apache put poison tips on their arrowheads.
“What in the hell were you doin’ chasin’ an Apache?” the Doc said.
“Bein’ stupid.”
“We ain’t young men anymore, Jesse. There’s a time for everythin’ and your time is now teachin’ the youth and showin’ em your wisdom, of which I am currently in doubt. Your time is not chasin’ down an Apache warrior.”
“I’ll tell you what, Doc, that ain’t a mistake I’m gonna be makin’ again. But that weren’t when I got hit with the arrow anyhow.”
He stopped and looked down at me. “You chased down an Apache with this arrow stickin’ outta your shoulder?”
“Didn’t sound quite so stupid at the time.”
He shook his head. “You’re either really brave or a damn fool. Sometimes there ain’t no difference.”
He bent the barbs back and the arrow slid out like a needle comin’ o
utta cake. He washed out the wound and rubbed somethin’ on it that smelled awful and then wrapped a bandage nice and tight.
“You can’t use this arm for a while and I think you should lay in bed next to that beautiful wife a yours the next couple days.”
“I’ll try.”
“Ain’t no try to it,” he said, somewhat upset. “You do it or next time you try and pull out the arrow yourself.”
The door opened and Andy walked in and right behind him was Betty. She gasped when she saw me and Andy said, “I’ll be damned. He got the arrow out.”
Betty ran up ta me and touched my face. “What did they do to your face?”
Frankly I had forgotten that I’d been struck in the face and that young Apache looked strong. I can’t image he didn’t leave some bruisin’ behind.
“I’m fine. Really.” I sat up. Pain shot through me like hot whiskey but I didn’t show it on account a Betty. “See, right as rain.”
“You’re a damn fool,” she said, helpin’ me off the table. “You could’ve been killed.”
“Nah, they was just curious. Tryin’ ta scare us off.”
Andy said, “We ain’t had nobody attacked by Apache in a good twenty years, since I was a boy. Don’t rightly know what they was doin’.”
“They weren’t doin’ nothin’,” I said, standing. “They was just curious. I’m a head home for the night, Andy. Doc here says I can’t do nothin’ for the next two days.”
“You go on and rest. I’ll look after the office.”
Betty helped me out and evenin’ was fallin’ over the town. Some kids were still out in the streets playin’ and I could hear their laughter a bit. I glanced over ta Betty and she gave me that look that only a wife can give a husband.
“I know,” I said.
“You’re not twenty anymore, Jesse.”
“I sure ain’t.”
“Those bones have been through enough. You had four years a war. That ages you enough.”
“It makes young men old in an instant. Can’t argue with that.”
“Why’d you go after him?”
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