by Edward Gates
“Why would he be afraid of a bath?” Charlie asked. “That doesn’t make any sense. If he knew he stunk, you’d think he’d want to bathe.”
Ben nodded in agreement. “Well, I come to find out, he can’t clean himself very well with a bum leg and only one arm. And he won’t ever let anyone help him. I guess he don’t want no one to see his stump or the scars he carries under them old clothes.”
Charlie took a drink of his coffee. “Okay. So where is he, then?”
Ben shrugged his shoulders. “Yesterday morning he come to me again and asked about a shave and a haircut. I gave him a ten-dollar gold eagle.”
Charlie gave out a low whistle. “Wow. Ten dollars?”
“Yup. I told him to get a haircut and a shave and get him some new clothes, too. He smiled and nodded and limped out the door.” Ben wiped the counter for a moment. “Ain’t seen him since. He could be anywhere.”
“Did you try to find him?”
“When he didn’t come back last night, I started asking around. Nobody’s seen him.” Ben walked off to wait on another customer.
Charlie leaned on the bar wondering about Jack. He envisioned him taking the ten-dollar gold piece and getting drunk for two days. He finished his coffee.
“Another cup?” Ben hollered down the bar.
“No, I don’t think so.” Charlie tossed a coin on the bar. “I think I’ll walk around town for a while.” He left and headed up town toward City Hall. Maybe the city marshal would know of Jack and his whereabouts.
“Sure, I know Texas Jack,” the marshal said. “That vagrant’s been hanging around Austin for near two years now. Hell, everybody knows that cripple.”
Charlie was a little surprised at the marshal’s callousness. “You wouldn’t happen to have seen him in the last day or so, would you?”
“As a matter of fact, I know exactly where he is.” The marshal leaned forward. “I got him locked up in back.”
“Why? What’d he do?”
“Disturbing the peace, causing a ruckus and robbery.”
“Robbery!”
“Yup. Yesterday morning, Simpson’s boy come a-runnin’ in here sayin’ Jack’s causin’ trouble at Simpson’s Mercantile. I went down there and here’s Jack arguing with Chester Simpson.” The marshal stepped out in front of his desk. “That cripple had a shiny ten-dollar gold eagle.” He paused. “Now where do you suppose a bum like him would get a coin like that?”
“Did you ask him?” Charlie asked, trying to keep his irritation in check. He could feel the anger building within him.
“Course I did. He said somebody give it to him.” The marshal laughed. “Nobody’d give ten dollars to someone like Jack. I figured he stole it from someone, so I hauled him in here. As soon as I find out where he really got that gold eagle, I’ll return it.”
Charlie was so stunned he didn’t know what to say. He shook his head, took a deep breath and let out a slight chuckle. “I don’t know where to begin.” He looked the marshal in the eyes. “I’ll just start by saying I know exactly where that ten-dollar gold piece came from.”
“Is it yours, then?”
“No. It’s Jack’s.” Charlie paused for a moment, trying to contain his anger. “Do you know where Jack lives or what he does?”
“No, I don’t. And I don’t give a damn where he lives. As long as he stays off my streets I couldn’t care less about him. Now what makes you so all-fired sure that gold piece is his?”
“He’s been living in the back of Kline’s Saloon. He works there cleaning up. Ben Kline gave him that coin yesterday so he could get cleaned up and get some new clothes.” Charlie’s ire was beginning to surface.
“Why should I believe you?” The marshal walked back behind his desk and sat down. “You must be a friend of his or something.”
Charlie leaned over the marshal’s desk. There was no holding back. “You’re damn right I’m a friend of his! And you had no right arresting him just because he looks the way he does.” He rested his right hand on his gun handle. “I’ll tell you what we’ll do. Why don’t me and you take a walk down to Kline’s and we’ll talk to Ben about it?”
“You a-threatenin’ me, deputy? I don’t give a damn about you bein’ a lawman somewhere else. You don’t come in here tellin’ me my business.” The marshal stood.
“Well, somebody has to. You sure proved you can’t do it on your own.”
The marshal charged Charlie, who pulled his gun and stuck the barrel of it in the marshal’s stomach. “Uh-uh, no you don’t. You can die doing something like that.” The marshal backed up and stood still with his hands up, his face red with fury. “Sit down, Marshal, and let’s talk.” The marshal hesitated and then slowly sat in his chair.
Charlie remained standing and lowered his gun. “You assumed Jack stole a gold coin even though he told you he didn’t. You arrested him without ever checking out his story. Now, I come in here and corroborate Jack’s story, and you still refuse to believe it.” He stared at the other lawman for a moment and then nodded. “Does that sound like justice to you?” The marshal didn’t answer. “Then, when I challenge you about your level of injustice, you attack me. You’re lucky I didn’t blow you in two.”
He sat on the corner of the desk. “Here’s what’s going to happen. Since you have no basis to hold him, you’re going to let Jack out of jail and you’re gonna give him back his ten dollars.” Charlie stood straight up, still holding his gun. “Now you can do it now and save a lot of time and energy, or, you can get your hat and accompany me down to Kline’s and have Ben tell you exactly what I just told you.”
The redness in the marshal’s face dissipated. He had a hollow look about him. He stood and yanked open the drawer on his right.
“Careful,” Charlie warned, bringing his gun to bear. The marshal froze. “Whatever you’re planning on pulling out of that drawer, you pull it out slowly.”
The marshal carefully drew out a large iron keyring with several keys jangling from it. Charlie followed the marshal to Jack’s cell and watched the marshal open the door.
At first, Jack didn’t move. He just stared at the marshal. Then his eyes shifted to Charlie and he smiled.
“Come on, Jack.” Charlie holstered his gun. “The marshal found out that you were telling the truth. You’re free to go.” Jack got up and exited the cell. The three walked back to the office, where the marshal pulled a small metal box from his safe. From it he pulled the ten-dollar gold coin and tossed it to Charlie, who handed it to Jack.
“You know, deputy, this is real close to being a jailbreak. I have every right to come after the both of you.” The marshal stared at Charlie.
“No, you don’t, Marshal. And you know it. You have no evidence, nobody reported a theft, you got nothing. We’ll be on our way now.”
The marshal clenched his teeth and swore at Charlie. “Go ahead. Take that good-fer-nuthin’ out of here. But I tell ya, if’n I see him on the streets for any reason, I’ll throw him right back in jail.”
Charlie swallowed the words that came to mind and ushered Jack out the front door. They headed down Congress Street to Ben’s saloon.
Jack walked with a pronounced limp. His left foot was turned inward and his left leg appeared to be a bit shorter than his right. Charlie assumed it must have healed with considerable bone and muscle loss from the shrapnel. He slowed his gait to stay even with Jack.
“I’m sure glad you come along,” Jack said.
“Don’t mention it.” Charlie smiled and nodded to Jack as they continued to walk. Up ahead, he noticed the familiar red and white stripes of a barber’s pole. “You still interested in getting a shave and a haircut?” he asked. Jack stopped and just stared forward. “What’s the matter, Jack? What are you afraid of?” The old Ranger looked at Charlie and then lowered his head. “It’s your scars, ain’t it?” Charlie said flatly. Jack’s head jerked up and his eyes met the younger man’s. Without saying a word, Charlie could see that he guessed right. “You trust me, don�
��t you, Jack?” Jack gave a half nod. “Well, then, don’t worry. Leave it all to me.”
Charlie ushered a timid Jack into the barbershop. There were no customers at this hour of the afternoon. The barber was a short man with very thin black hair pasted down with too much oil and tonic. He wore a thick moustache twisted into “handlebars” on the ends. He smiled broadly as Charlie and Jack entered the shop, but the smile quickly faded when he took a longer look at Jack. The barber looked back at Charlie and noticed the badge on his vest.
“What can I do for you two, sheriff?”
“I’m fine, but this here fella needs a bit of a cleaning up. You think you can take care of that?”
The barber began a stammer. “Well… I, uh…”
Before the barber could launch an opposition, Charlie interrupted him. “So, what do you normally charge for a haircut and a shave?”
“What? Oh, well, it’s normally four bits.” The barber looked at Jack. “But, in this case…”
Charlie took the coins he had in his vest pocket and sorted through them in his palm. He set a silver dollar on the shelf next to the barber’s tools. “I’ll give you a dollar for the shave and haircut...” Then Charlie put a gold five-dollar half-eagle next to the silver dollar. “…and I’ll bet you this half-eagle that you can’t make Jack look presentable. What d’ya say?”
The barber looked at the gold coin with wide eyes. He looked back at Charlie, then at Jack. “You’re on, sheriff.” The barber pointed to his chair and motioned for Jack to sit down.
The barber sprinkled some lilac water on Jack to cover up some of his smell and tied a sheet around his neck. He lathered up his soap dish, strapped down his straight-razor and then stepped back when he noticed the scars and burn marks on the left side of Jack’s face.
Charlie saw the reaction. “Let me tell you what I want. Don’t take the beard off. Just cut it close and make the edges neat. Got it?” The barber sighed with relief and nodded. Charlie took off his hat. “I want his hair cut short like mine. Think you can do that?”
The barber visibly relaxed. He smiled back at Charlie. “You just lost yourself five dollars, mister!” He pulled a hot damp cloth from a steamer and wrapped it around Jack’s face to soften the whiskers. Then he grabbed his shears and began working on the matted mess Jack had for hair. Charlie sat in one of the wooden cane-back chairs and watched the barber work his magic.
He thought about the next step in making Jack presentable: clothes. He certainly wouldn’t take Jack back to Simpson’s Mercantile. Getting him outfitted with new clothes would be the easy part. The hard part would be getting him cleaned. How in the world am I going to get this man bathed?
When the barber finished, Jack looked like he had when Charlie first met him. Charlie smiled. “You look good, Jack.”
Jack stared at himself in the barber’s mirror and smiled. “I like it.” He looked at the barber. “You did a right fine job, there.”
“Looks like you won yourself five dollars.” Charlie thanked the barber and he and Jack left the barbershop. Once outside, Jack seemed to stand a little taller with his head held up and his back straight.
“I left my hat inside,” Charlie said. “Hold on a second. I’ll be right back.” He stepped back into the barbershop, picked up his hat and addressed the barber. “You pretty much know what goes on in this town, don’t you?”
The barber nodded and smiled. “What do you need?”
“I need to know the swankiest bordello you have in this town.”
The barber stammered a moment. “Well, not that I ever… what I mean is… I heard about…”
“Come on, come on. I don’t have all day.” Charlie interrupted impatiently.
“That would be Miss Kate’s up on Houston Street, across from the hotel.” The barber had a confused look about him.
“They have a bathtub there?”
The barber smiled broadly. “I believe they have a nice porcelain claw-foot tub there. Not that I was ever there, mind you.”
“Of course not.” Charlie smiled and shook the barber’s hand. Jack was patiently waiting outside.
“You still wanting to get cleaned up?”
Jack looked at his reflection in a store window. “Yep. more than ever, now.”
“Good. Good. Let’s get you some new clothes. Then, my friend, I got a surprise for you.” Charlie laughed out loud as they strode down the sidewalk.
60
Miss Kate
Charlie took Jack to a shoemaker’s shop and ordered a pair of Jeff Davis Brogans specially made for him. There were to be no laces, with a bootstrap fastened to the heel so it could be pulled on with one hand. He ordered the left shoe to have a few layers of thick soles put on it to raise the foot to the same level as the right. The bootmaker said it would be a few days before they’d be ready.
Charlie accompanied Jack to two different stores, where Jack picked out a new union suit, socks, shirt, vest and trousers. In the last store, Charlie was settling with the shopkeeper when he noticed Jack looking at the new handguns and rifles that were in a display case.
“You still have your guns?”
Jack shook his head, “Army took everything I ever had. I got out with nothing. It’s like they used me ‘til they couldn’t use me no more and then just throwed me away.”
“You thinking about getting another weapon?”
Jack turned from the case and looked at Charlie. “I’m not sure I ever want another gun. To be true, I kinda got my fill of killin’.” He walked to the door and stopped. “Maybe down the road I might find a need. I dunno.” He looked up and down the street and then turned back to Charlie. “Are we done here?”
Charlie picked up the packages of new clothes, thanked the storekeeper and left the store with Jack. Jack turned south to go back to Ben’s, while Charlie headed north toward Houston Street. They both stopped at the same time, turned and looked at each other.
“Where you goin’?” Jack asked. “Ben’s is down this way.”
“I know. But like I told you earlier, I got a surprise for you. Come on.” He waved to Jack, who shrugged and followed him up to Houston Street.
Miss Kate’s Palace was a vividly painted three-story Victorian home with a huge wrap-around front porch and what Charlie thought were too many spires rising from the gables and the third-story dormers. The clapboard siding was painted gray but the window and door frames, along with the gingerbread trim, were painted in whites, reds, greens and pinks. Several rocking chairs were lined up on the porch where, between clients, the ladies would sit and wave to the citizens passing by on Houston Street.
When Charlie opened the short iron gate of the fence surrounding the house, Jack froze. He stared at the house but wouldn’t come inside the fence. “You know what this place is?” Jack loudly whispered.
“Yeah, I do.” He put his hand on Jack’s shoulder. “Come on in with me.”
Jack shook his head. “I can’t go in there.”
“Why not?” Charlie asked. After a thought he whispered to Jack, “You still got all your equipment, don’t you?”
Jack gave Charlie a impudent look. “Yeah. I’m fine down there.”
“Well, then, don’t tell me you never been to a brothel before.”
Jack looked at Charlie and then away. He lowered his head. “Maybe in another life I come to one.”
“So you won’t go in?”
Jack shook his head.
“Well, that’s up to you. But I want you to wait out here on the porch for me.” Charlie nudged Jack’s back and watched him take small, hesitant steps up the walkway to the bottom stair. There he stopped.
“You sure you won’t come inside with me?” Charlie asked. Jack again shook his head. “Suit yourself. Sit out here and wait for me then.” Charlie climbed the steps and turned around. “I’ll only be a minute.”
Jack gave him a peculiar look and a crooked smile. “Only a minute?”
Charlie realized what he just implied and grinned at J
ack. Thinking it best not to reply, he turned and entered the house.
The inside was just as gaudy as, if not more than, the exterior. Deep reds and burgundies and dark hardwoods trimmed in gold were everywhere. The air was so thick with a sweet perfume that he began coughing.
He was greeted by two young ladies who escorted him, one on each arm, into an elegant parlor being used as a waiting lounge. Ornate settees and matching sofas of red crushed velvet trimmed in golds and dark walnut were strategically placed around the room. A bar stood in one corner, its small silver fountain flowing with what Charlie guessed to be wine or punch. A selection of fine liquors lined the shelves of the backbar. He was led to a sofa where he sat and was offered a drink that he declined. The two ladies left him. Moments later a tall, elegantly dressed, full-figured woman with fire-red hair and a smile outlined by bright red lipstick entered the room and approached him. Her floor-length violet evening gown was cut in a way that laid bare most of her bosom. Charlie stood.
The woman studied him for a moment, noticed his badge and then offered him her hand. “How do you do, Sheriff? Welcome to my palace. I’m Miss Kate.”
Charlie took her hand and slightly bowed. “It’s deputy, ma’am, and it’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“Well, Deputy, what can we do for you today?” Miss Kate motioned for Charlie to sit, which he did. She sat on a settee opposite him.
“Well, I have a dilemma that I was hoping you could help me with.”
“Our specialty here is helping men with their problems. I’m sure we can take care of whatever it is that’s bothering you.”
Kate listened intently as Charlie told the story of Texas Jack and how he came to be in his current condition. He never mentioned Jack’s name, always referring to him as a Ranger friend. When he finished his story, Miss Kate rose and looked out the window at Jack, who was sitting on the bottom step.
“Is that your friend, there?”
“Yeah, that’s him,” Charlie said, standing and joining her at the window. She stared at Jack a little longer than Charlie expected.