A Season in Hell

by Easy Jackson

  “Yes. Don’t worry. You won’t have to hold a gun to my belly and order me on the stage.”

  “Thank God,” Tennie said, rising. “How is your arm? Do you want me to look at it before you go?”

  “It’s fine,” he said, standing up. “Don’t antagonize Mrs. Milton. She was once a guard in a Magdalene Laundry in Kentucky.”

  “I don’t know what that is,” Tennie said.

  “A women’s prison, more or less,” Hawkshaw said. “It was and is a brutal place.” He tipped his hat. “Good day, madam.”

  “Good-bye,” Tennie said and joined her stepsons, glad to have that unpleasant task over with.

  CHAPTER 4

  Returning to the jailhouse, Tennie went into the kitchen to make her bread. As she kneaded the dough, she thought of Hawkshaw. She had trouble thinking of the right word. Snoop? She didn’t believe he listened for the sheer thrill of it. And why would anyone want to listen to the Miltons? Rusty said they were just a couple of poor dirt farmers from somewhere around Waco. He detested the chore of going into the shop every morning to fetch their allotted beef and pork, saying Mrs. Milton was mean and bossy, while her husband and brother-in-law were cowed and sneaky. Tennie dreaded telling Inga about speaking to Hawkshaw because Inga would grill her over everything that was said.

  Finished kneading, she left the dough for the first rise and went out the back door, expecting to see her outdoor oven still lying smashed on the ground. Corrupt men had destroyed it to discourage her from using the backyard and seeing the herds of stolen cattle and horses that were being sneaked into the corrals next door. They had demolished it and the brush arbor she and the boys had built near it.

  To her amazement, the two Mexican men from the previous night were rebuilding the oven with mud and grass. They looked a little sheepish and avoided her eyes.

  She said, “Muchas gracias,” and went back into the jailhouse. She didn’t want to tell them they were wasting their efforts; it wouldn’t get much use because she would soon be leaving.

  She prepared the jail cells for the next round of prisoners, dilly-dallying because she did not want to go out front and face Inga. By the time the dough was ready to be punched down, shaped into loaves to let rise again, she knew she couldn’t put it off any longer. She left the dough to rise in pans and went out the front door.

  The streets teemed with people, horses, and wagons as she sat under the tin awning on a bench in front of the jailhouse. When it became safer to be in Ring Bit on Saturdays, farmers and ranchers began bringing their wives and children into town without fear. She wondered how long that would last.

  Tennie saw Inga come outside. Steeling herself, she stood as Inga crossed the street. “I talked to Mr. Hawkshaw this morning.”

  “Just forget that,” Inga said. “It was mistake.”

  Tennie’s eyes widened, but Inga continued without allowing her to speak. “And tell loudmouth stepsons it was misunderstanding. Only misunderstanding.”

  “All right,” Tennie said, letting out a long and perplexed breath.

  Inga didn’t give her time to question her but turned and went back into the butcher shop.

  Tennie talked about it with the boys at dinner.

  “She’s crazy,” Rusty said, digging into the rice pudding.

  “We told Mr. Gid about it,” Lucas said. “Now we’ll have to go back and tell him Mrs. Milton claimed it was all a mistake.”

  Either way, the story would be all over Ring Bit by nightfall.

  * * *

  On Monday morning, Rusty had to bang on the door of the butcher shop to rouse one of the Miltons to answer.

  “It was Ozzie Milton, the one with the bug eyes. Bod is the one with the flat cheeks,” Rusty told Tennie later. “He said Bod and Inga left town yesterday.”

  “Say ‘Mr. Bod’ and ‘Miss Inga,’” Tennie corrected. “Where did they go? Are they coming back?”

  Rusty shrugged. “Mr. Ozzie didn’t say. He’s lazy, and I don’t much like him, but Mr. Bod is the one who really gives me the creeps. He’s always asking me questions about you.”

  “About me?” Tennie said. “Maybe I’m glad they left town. But what are we going to do without a decent butcher? From what you’ve said, Mr. Ozzie isn’t worth much.”

  “He said Miss Inga and his brother are going to look for a buyer,” Rusty said. “But I don’t think that’s the reason they left town. Mr. Ozzie kept shifting those buggy eyes around, and he only remembered to throw that in when I was leaving.”

  Tennie wondered if Hawkshaw had anything to do with their leaving.

  When she mentioned as much to Shorty, he said, “Good riddance,” peering over his glasses at the butcher shop. “If so, it appears we owe a debt to that cold fish.”

  By Monday afternoon, the jail cells had been scrubbed down, and the urine- and vomit-soaked blankets had been washed and were drying on the clothesline in the back. It was so hot, Tennie stopped to sit under the shade on a bench outside the jail, fanning herself with an old wanted poster. She knew she had been derelict in her duty by remaining hidden inside the jailhouse, afraid of the Miltons. But with Inga gone, she could once again walk up and down the streets in the early mornings, and sit out front in the afternoons, where just the presence of an eligible woman put men on better behavior, except when it came to fighting just to get noticed.

  Shorty came out of the station, looking up and down the street. He saw Tennie sitting on her bench and walked toward her. “Have you introduced yourself to the new blacksmith yet?” he asked when he reached her.

  “No, I haven’t,” Tennie said. “He’s been paying Rusty to run errands and do chores for him, though. Right now, Rusty’s with Lucas and Badger, I think. Sometimes they help Lucas collect his bottles to sell, and sometimes they don’t.”

  “They’re listening to that chinwagger Giddings Coltrane spinning one yarn after another, no doubt.” Shorty snorted. “I don’t know how Lafayette tolerates that continuous dysentery of the mouth.”

  “I don’t think he does that with Mr. Lafayette,” Tennie said. “I think he tells Mr. Gid to pull the drawstring on it, and he does. He has this idea Mr. Lafayette is still his commanding officer.”

  Shorty, looking down the street, did not answer, and when Tennie followed his gaze, she, too, fell silent. Hawkshaw was riding toward them. The horse was as dark as Hawkshaw’s hair, and whereas the man was somewhat coarse, the horse was fine, full of muscle and spirit. Hawkshaw rode him that way, too, as a man who knew good horseflesh.

  “He’s leaving town,” Shorty muttered. “Finally.”

  “He’s headed in the direction of Cat Ridge,” Tennie murmured as Hawkshaw gave her an unreadable stare in passing. He lifted his hat and bowed his head slightly in recognition.

  Tennie stood up and walked toward him. He reined in the horse and looked down at her.

  “Don’t tarry too long in Cat Ridge,” Tennie said when she reached him. “They keep the law a different way than we do in Ring Bit.”

  He said nothing, not even a nod, just looked at her. Tennie had turned and was about to rejoin Shorty when an explosion rocked the buildings and a plume of smoke rose from behind the jailhouse.

  No citizens rushed from their homes or businesses to see what was happening.

  Hawkshaw merely said, “That’s the third time this week, isn’t it?”

  “Yes,” Tennie nodded in vexation. “I’ve warned them and warned them to be careful. I’m afraid they are going to lose a hand or an eye.” She looked at the smoke, and raising her voice, called out, “Are you all right?”

  Lucas’s high reedy voice called back, “Yes, Miss Tennie!”

  She turned back to Hawkshaw, but he was already riding away.

  “Tennie!” Shorty bellowed, and she could almost see steam coming out of his ears.

  “I know, I know,” she cried.

  Before she could say anything else, a voice thundered from up the street. “Coltrane!”

  Shorty and Tennie
exchanged glances. Lafayette rarely let any of the goings-on in Ring Bit bring him out of his saloon, and he seldom lost his temper. Tennie did not want to be in Gid’s boots at that moment.

  * * *

  The boys did not come in that evening until supper was waiting on the table. Lucas trailed in last, keeping his head down. Tennie sat down, bowed her head, and asked the blessing.

  She looked up across the table and stared at Lucas. “What happened to your eyebrows? And why does the hair along your forehead look like a sheep’s been grazing at it?”

  Rusty sniggered. “It got blasted off. I told him to stand farther back.”

  Tennie threw down her napkin. “Okay, that’s it. No more blowing up stuff. Why do you want to learn to blow things up anyway? It will be over my dead body before I let you blow up a railroad track to rob a train, I can tell you that right now.”

  Lucas opened his mouth, but Tennie interrupted him, ranting in the same vein for several minutes. When she finally wound down, she took a big breath of air and clamped her mouth shut, continuing to stare at Lucas.

  “We were just learning how to blow up stumps, Miss Tennie,” Lucas said. “Farmers will pay us good money to come on their property and get rid of stumps for them.”

  “You’re going to have stumps instead of hands if you aren’t careful,” she said. “How are you going to make a living with no hands?”

  “We told him, Miss Tennie,” Badger joined in. “Mr. Gid told him to get back.”

  “That’s right, Miss Tennie,” Rusty said. “Mr. Gid said later he knew it wouldn’t hurt Lucas, but maybe it would teach him a lesson.”

  “I’m going to teach Giddings Coltrane a lesson—” Tennie began, but three voices interrupted her.

  “Mr. Lafayette already jumped all over him,” Lucas said.

  “That’s right,” Rusty added. “Some of the champagne glasses fell off the shelf and broke, and Mr. Lafayette got real mad.”

  Tennie looked down and rubbed her forehead.

  “Don’t fuss at Mr. Gid, please, Miss Tennie,” Lucas pleaded. “He’s just trying to help us learn about things.”

  “Why in the world do you need to know how to blow things to kingdom come? Answer me that.” Tennie shook her head. “No, don’t. I don’t want to hear it.” She felt like crying. “I promised your poor old pa I’d look after you, and I’m doing a sorry job of it.”

  “You’re not that bad, Miss Tennie,” Lucas said. “Honest.”

  Lucas looked so sincere, she burst into laughter. “Thank you, Lucas.”

  “Oh well,” she said as she took a piece of cornbread. “Mr. Hawkshaw left. He probably got so tired of hearing those booms, you could say you blasted him out of Ring Bit. He just better be careful in Cat Ridge. I bet the sheriff wouldn’t have any conscience about getting rid of somebody with a shot in the dark.”

  “That’s right, Miss Tennie,” Lucas said. “We got shut of him without shooting him in the back. Ain’t that right, Miss Tennie?”

  “That’s right,” Tennie agreed. “But don’t say ain’t all the time, and don’t talk with your mouth full. Nobody can say that we aren’t polite here in Ring Bit.”

  “That’s right,” Badger echoed. “That’s what Mr. Gid said. He said we are the politenest bunch of wildcats he’s ever seen.”

  “I’m glad he recognizes it,” Tennie said.

  * * *

  Tuesday was always the slowest day in town. Soldiers were back at the fort. The cowboys who had jobs were back at the ranches, and outlying ranchers had done their business in town on Saturday. Because the soil was not suited for it, there were very few farmers around Ring Bit, and they, too, had done their trading on Saturday.

  When the front door kicked open that night, and Gid hollered he had a prisoner, it took Tennie by surprise. She jumped up and ran to meet him. He was behind the prisoner with his arms under the man’s armpits, holding on to his throat.

  Tennie gasped. “Don’t kill him!”

  “I’m not.” He loosened his grasp on the other’s throat.

  The man came alive and grabbed Gid’s arm and bit it so hard, blood spurted. Gid knocked him in the back of the head with his forehead and grasped his gullet again. He began to move the prisoner toward the stairs. The man tried to struggle, kicking his feet, but he was having trouble breathing.

  Tennie passed them, running to fetch the keys from their nail on the wall. As she raced up the stairs with Gid behind her, a nauseous odor caused her to look back. The prisoner was defecating all the way up the stairs. Gid didn’t seem to notice or care. Speechless, Tennie turned and hurried to the second floor, throwing open the door to the first cell she came to. Gid pitched him in, and while the man hit the cot, holding his throat and gasping, Tennie slammed the door and locked it.

  She turned to Gid. “What is his problem?”

  “Oh. He threatened to kill Colonel Lafayette.”

  “Kill Mr. Lafayette? Whatever for?”

  “Drunks don’t need no reason, Miss Tennie. You know that. They get something in their head, and there it is. He probably won’t even remember it come tomorrow.”

  Blood dripped from his arm. “You better let me tend to that arm, Mr. Gid.”

  “It’ll be all right,” Gid assured her. “I’ll throw some whiskey on it when I get back to the saloon, and it will heal up. I done been bit many a time.” He removed a faded blue bandanna from his neck and wrapped it around his arm.

  Tennie didn’t have the heart to fuss at Gid for teaching the boys about explosives. Maybe she felt like Gid owed her something, though. She wasn’t sure but found herself blurting out a question she wanted to know the answer to. “Are you related to Mr. Lafayette’s ex-sister-in-law? The wife of the brother who . . . died?” She didn’t want to say, “The one Lafayette accidentally killed.” That might not be common knowledge.

  “Oh, yes, ma’am. We be kin, but it’s so distant we could get married and have normal children without ever having a peck of worry over it,” Gid said. “They look down their noses on our side of the family, anyhows. They tries to pretend they don’t even know us.”

  He took a breath, and Tennie started for the stairs.

  But he began again. “Yes, ma’am, I told my mama I was coming out here to work for Colonel Lafayette. But I said, ‘Mama, don’t you be telling nobody where I’ll be. You know, they still hold that mess against the Colonel.’ She said, ‘Don’t you worry son. I won’t tell none of them highfalutin kin of ours.’ But Mama’s getting old and forgetful. I sure hated to leave, but I couldn’t stand to stay around my brothers when they gets out of the pen.”

  “They’re not out yet?” Tennie said, conscious of the awful odor rising from the stairway even if Gid wasn’t.

  “Oh, no, Miss Tennie,” Gid said. “They doing more time. The judge let me off easier ’cause all I did was blow up the tracks. I didn’t partake of that there train robbery. No, ma’am. I was innocent of that. Nab is at home taking care of my mama. Although Nab is getting on up there in years, too. I didn’t want have to listen to my brothers whining about the Yankees and how the war done messed their lives up.”

  “Mr. Gid,” Tennie interjected. “You better go see about that arm. You’re dripping blood.”

  “Oh, yes, ma’am. Sorry about that.” He turned and started for the stairs, still talking. “Mama said, ‘You gonna look for Pa when you get to Texas?’ and I said, ‘No, ma’am. Not after the way he done us.’”

  Tennie stood at the head of the stairs and watched him as he smashed one boot down in total unconcern on something brown that had fallen from the prisoner’s pants. She hesitated, loath to step in urine and filth. Gid realized she wasn’t behind him and turned, looking at her. In a few seconds, it dawned on him that she was reluctant to step in what hadn’t bothered him a bit. “Hold on there, Miss Tennie. I’ll help you.”

  He stomped back up the stairs, and before she knew what he was doing, he picked her up and slung her over his shoulder like she was a sack of pin
to beans. He tromped down the stairs with Tennie bouncing on his shoulder.

  “I guess I best go get shamped tomorrow,” Gid said. “Colonel Lafayette told me to watch out. Men could grab my hair in a fight, but I told him not to worry. It’s so thin, it’d slip right through. But the colonel don’t want no shaggy employees in the saloon, so I—” He broke off in midsentence when they were three steps away from the bottom floor, his body tensing.

  Tennie twisted around to see what the problem could be.

  A young man with a lean body, hard blue eyes, and a scar running downward across both lips stood at the foot of the stairs, holding a Peacemaker pointed at them. Gid stared at him with a stony expression so harsh it frightened Tennie.

  She squirmed from Gid’s hold. “It’s Mr. Lafayette’s brother, Mr. Gid,” she cried. “Wash! Wash!” She began toward Wash but stopped midway between the two men when she realized the hatred coming from Wash’s eyes wasn’t just directed at Gid.

  She grew solemn. “Wash, this is Giddings Coltrane,” she said, making her voice quiet and even. “He works for Lafayette. He brought in a prisoner tonight who . . . had dysentery going up the stairs. Mr. Gid was trying to keep me from having to step in it.”

  Wash’s nostrils flared. He did not put the pistol away, and he and Gid continued to breathe invisible fire in each other’s direction.

  Wash glanced at Tennie. “We’ve had this discussion before,” he said between gritted teeth.

  Tennie felt her temper rise. “If you can’t trust me,” she exploded, “then get out! Turn around, walk out that door, and never come back in here again!”

  Wash wavered, exhaling deeply. Giving up, he put the gun down and replaced it in his holster. “Aw, shucks, Tennie. You know I trust you. Come give me a hug.”

  Tennie ran, jumping on him, hugging and squeezing him as tight as she could while covering his face with kisses. He smiled, responding in kind. When he put her down, he looked at the boys, who had, of course, witnessed everything.

  “You boys go clean those stairs for Miss Tennie.” He smiled at Tennie again. “We’ve got a lot of catching up to do.”