“Only now have you given me cause. Again, I owe you my life.”
Gideon wanted to gripe about Jed’s lack of faith in his word, but right then Jed leaned over Gideon’s hand and even though Gideon had no idea what he was going to do, it had the feel of some sort of promise or obligation that Gideon didn’t like. He tugged his hand back, catching one of Jed’s wrists in the process and pulling the smaller man against him. “Weren’t nothing you wouldn’t have done for me if the situation was reversed and you’d had the shot,” he said gruffly even as he hugged Jed close. “But you’d probably have done it quieter,” he teased, laughing as much to ease his own tension as to lighten the moment.
Jed didn’t laugh, but Gideon could feel the answering smile where Jed’s mouth touched his cheek as Jed returned the hug. They stood that way for a while as the fear passed, and their hearts stopped pounding against each other. When Jed finally pushed away, he asked, “Is that what you do in your show? Shooting like that?”
Gideon smiled back, squeezing Jed’s hand before letting him go. “Some of it, yeah. Ma started teaching me to shoot when I was big enough to lift the gun—small ones, at first. She has a Derringer rig that she wears when we travel, and it was the first thing I learned to shoot. I’m not as good as my sisters, though—the twins are going to be stars in their own right. They can shoot the bee off of a flower and never touch the petals.”
Jed’s face expressed his doubt, so Gideon nodded. “I ain’t exaggeratin’, Jed. I don’t, usually, just so you know. They’re that good.”
Jed nodded and his lips twitched in his almost-smile, but his eyes were serious. “I think your skill with the gun is more than good enough for me,” he said. “Thank you.”
Gideon swallowed and nodded. “You can thank me for dinner, too. That there rattler’s about the best meat we’ve run across in a couple of days now.”
“Thank you for dinner,” Jed said, unaccountably sober and serious.
Gideon cleared his throat, uncomfortable with that kind of praise. “I think I’m rested enough—how ’bout you? Ready to move on?”
Jed did chuckle then, but he didn’t argue, picking up his pack and the snake’s long body as Gideon rounded up Star. But as they left the water-hole, Gideon took one more look at the bloody puddle of snakehead, reminding himself to clean his gun when they stopped for the night.
After that day, Gideon was more mindful of the dangers of this untamed land and of the simple pleasures of the trip. He spent a whole lot of time enjoying God’s country, and Jed’s chanting, and all the ways they’d been learning to pleasure each other.
His various educations—about Jed and Jed’s body, about the wild and living easily in it instead of making it a battle between his citified habits and mother nature—took up nearly two weeks and, he guessed, five hundred miles, getting them from the reservation of the Shoshone, through the rest of Idaho, across rocky deserts and salt flats, through wild rivers and peaceful valleys, and almost to Carson City before tension of any kind finally set in between them. Gideon was the one who started it. He wasn’t sure where the words came from or why they came out the way they did, but as the town grew in the distance, he heard himself ask Jed if he was going to ‘act civilized and take a bath in hot water and sleep in a real bed.’
It wasn’t the question itself, which he could have laughed off as a joke, but the tone of it, which even to his own ears sounded needlessly harsh.
Jed slowed his pace and turned to look at Gideon, his features twisted into a frown. “Why are you angry, Gideon?” he asked, the words slow and measured. “Have I done something you dislike?”
Gideon felt the heat as his skin flushed. “No,” he said quickly. “I just thought—well, we’re coming up on Carson City, and I’d like to stay the night there, maybe get a warm bath.”
Jed looked at him, the frown clearing away but leaving his features blank. After a few seconds, he said, “You can do whatever you want.”
Gideon drew a deep breath, mulling the words over long enough to realize what he was really asking. “I want you to come with me,” he said.
Jed looked away and toward Carson City. “You want me there even though you know I would not be content to linger.”
Gideon sighed. “No, of course not. But I think you’re judging us too hard. I got you taken care of in Livingston, didn’t I? You think I can’t do it here?”
Jed didn’t say anything for a while, and Gideon wondered how much he’d upset the other man. He also wondered what he was really doing—but he didn’t have to wonder on that for long. They were getting close to a city, and he wasn’t lying—he wanted a hot bath and hot food cooked with staples and supplies, salt and flour and biscuits all fluffy, dripping with butter and tart with salt. He wanted to sleep in a damned bed for once and not have Jed look at him like that desire made him weak, because it flat-out didn’t, no more than Jed’s ease under the open sky made Jed weak. They were just different—raised different, educated different, and there wasn’t nothing wrong with that. There shouldn’t be, anyway. But he wanted Jed with him, too. He wanted Jed with him as much as possible, to store up the memories for the time after they reached San Francisco and went their separate ways.
He thought about Jed making this trip back alone, to his more familiar territory in the Dakotas, and knew Jed was fine with his own company, completely competent to handle himself and most things that came his way—hell, Gideon thought, annoyed, he’d probably get back from San Francisco in half the time it took him to get there, with Gideon and Star dragging him down—as long as he was careful about snakes. Gideon had thought on that watering hole more than once as the days passed, wondering whether that rattler would have struck, if it would have got Jed. As comfortable with nature as Jed was, Jed was no more a part of it than any man, and all it’d take was a wild pig or a rattler, a scorpion or the wrong kind of spider in his bedroll, to end him. The man darned well ought to learn to appreciate cities and the relative safety of them.
Eventually, as the buildings grew more distinct, and the homesteads and fenced cattle pastureland they’d been passing gave way to smaller farms, then houses with smaller barns and big kitchen gardens, Jed said quietly, “I enjoy our time together. But do you think we would be able to be together in a town? Your people are not tolerant of what we do together, alone, and not just because I am an Indian. We are both men—that might be better with an Indian, a savage,” he said, and there wasn’t even any twist of irony in his voice, “but it could still mean our deaths if we were found out. Is a hot bath and a bed worth risking our lives to you?”
Gideon looked at him, thinking about his words. “Sure ain’t,” he answered, letting the annoyance show in his voice. Of course it wasn’t. “But we camped with them Shoshone, and as far as I know they didn’t figure nothing out. Did they?” he challenged, and watched Jed closely for deception.
Jed cast him a sideways glare. “No, they did not. But then, we only slept. You are telling me you want to lie in a soft bed that you pay for… and only sleep?”
Gideon clenched his teeth against his answer, because Jed had him caught out there, six ways from Sunday. Yes, he wanted a soft bed, and he wanted Jed and their hard cocks, right there in it. “All right, I admit it,” he grumbled, lowering his voice. Kids were out working in the kitchen gardens, and while the pair of them walking along didn’t earn many glances—the acreage still pretty big and the gardens well back from the road to keep from tempting travelers to help themselves to a free snack—being careless was a surer way to make Jed right than anything else could be. “I like the thought of us in a clean bed, soft sheets that smell like soap instead of sweat and horse hair. I like the thought of lying there with you, with a locked door—’cause whether you like it or not,” he said, poking Jed’s arm for emphasis, “when we’re out in the wild without a locked door, that’s its own kind of chance. It’s just a risk in your world, where you feel comfortable. Well, Jed, I’ve lived twenty years in cities and traveling
between ’em.” Here he lowered his voice even further. “And I ain’t never even got a gal caught out if she was of decent folk, where someone seeing her with a man like me would get her in trouble. I sure as hell ain’t never got caught with a man, and yeah, I reckon I’ve had my share of those. Right inside the city limits. Right inside respectable hotels and boarding houses and homes, Jed.” All right, it had only been one home, with that one feller who’d been a bachelor and had his own place and had clearly been lusting after Gideon during the shows. The guy had come to every performance, hadn’t missed Gideon even once, and after a couple days’ careful feeling out of each other, the feller had been sure enough to invite him home “for supper and friendly conversation.” They hadn’t eaten a bite of food and hadn’t talked much either. But still, he was trying to make a point here.
“Nothing you can say would ever convince me you feared for your safety in the wild, during our times together,” Jed said, his voice as quiet as it got when he was chanting.
“I never did,” he agreed. “Because I trusted you, and trusted that you knew what you were doing.”
He let Jed chew on that for a time, as the lots got smaller and the road got wider; soon enough they’d have to turn off it to skirt north or south of the town center, or this road would take them right into the heart of it. Besides, he really did think Jed might be over-reacting. Jed was right that they’d need to be careful—very careful. But Gideon knew all about how to do that. “You take a fork in the road, and I’ll follow you,” he said after a while. “We can skip the city, find us a general store on the edge of town to stock up and move right on through. But it would mean a lot to me, Jed, if we stayed in town. If you stayed with me.”
Jed looked at him then sighed. “We need supplies,” he said by way of an answer. “But please, Gideon, remember that many of your people simply do not like my kind. You cannot talk everyone into your way of thinking just by being,” he waved a hand, “charming.”
Gideon wanted to crow at that compliment, but he tried hard not to let his victorious smile slip out, because it’d be a damn shame and just plain wrong to boot, to rub Jed’s face in the pleasure he took from this little win. Besides the pleasure he hoped they’d share in creature comforts like baths and somebody else’s good cooking and clean sheets, he was enjoying this, the winning. Lordy, but he was a selfish git sometimes. “I’m not looking to change every person in Carson City,” he said. Hell, he even meant it. “I’m just looking for a place that don’t mind catering to whites and redskins alike, that’ll let me buy a bath and a good, hot meal we didn’t have to cook ourselves and a decent room. My charm and my money can get us that.”
The road widened, as he’d predicted, then it widened some more, just past a turnout for the electric train that clearly brought working folks downtown or on through town to the smelters north of here. He didn’t reckon folks working the Comstock load up in Nevada’s Virginia City would actually live this far off, but you never knew. Management might.
Jed veered toward the south side of the street, where the late afternoon sun cast long shadows off the buildings. They were walking against the flow of traffic a little, but it made no nevermind: this time of day, folks bustled every which way.
“Need a good livery first,” he said. “Need to get Star put up.”
Jed nodded but didn’t say anything. He did point, half a block later, to a street that went off at an angle, and the thicker smell of manure and hay must mean this was livery row. Or one of them. “There’s thousands of people live here, Jed—Bill’s brought the show through here before. It’s the state capitol you know, and I heard it told that half the silver they pull out of the Comstock lode, up north of here, comes straight here to the U.S. Mint. I’ll bet one of them silver dollars you showed me in Livingston came from the Carson City mint.”
His effort at friendly conversation didn’t seem to calm Jed any: some days, it didn’t, so on those days Gideon shut up or talked to his horse. He shut up now and led the way, eying the liveries on this street: it looked like there were five or six to choose from, but it was just as likely that some of them shared the same corral yards.
The first would be the most expensive, just because it was nearest the main street into town, but he was looking for the one that was the best kept. He found it in the third, in a dry paddock with good drainage, and straw still scattered around it that was clearly used to soak up horse piss and make it easier on the stable kids to fork out the muck. The building looked sound and recently painted. The doors didn’t squeak when kids darted in and out, leading horses or their owners around. And the man who ran it had a good look about him, warm eyes and an even-seeming temper. His eyes stayed warm, even after he’d taken in Gideon’s companion.
“Afternoon,” Gideon said.
“Afternoon,” the man replied. “That’s a right pretty filly you’ve got there,” he added, which only increased Gideon’s estimation of the man’s talent with animals.
Jed didn’t quite snort behind him, but he did whisper loud enough for only Gideon to hear, “Good businessmen say that if you bring in a twenty-year-old nag.”
Gideon shot him a glare but didn’t say anything. It wouldn’t help Jed’s mood any for Gideon to go mouthing off at him around white people. “Thank you for saying so,” he said to the livery man. “We’re just in town for the night, me and my guide here,” he said, waving his hand back toward Jed. “I’m angling for a hot meal, a hotter bath, and someplace with two soft beds in a room that won’t mind him traveling with me.” Better to just lay it all out right now, before he parted with any of his money if local attitudes turned out to be more like Jed expected them to be than Gideon did. “And a comfortable place for my horse. She’s been traveling pretty hard.”
“You c’n find that here, sure,” the man said, and stepped up to them both. “Name’s Bob Gray,” he said. “Board and feed are fifty cents, an extra ten for oats at breakfast.”
“That’s right fair,” Gideon said, even though he knew he could probably haggle the man down some. “I’m Gideon Makepeace, and this here’s Jedediah Buffalo Bird. He’s trying to get me to San Francisco.” He scratched Star’s cheek and considered exactly how far she’d walked on these shoes. “You got a farrier here? She’s got a lot of miles on her, could stand to have the shoes checked. Don’t want to have her throwing one on the trail if we can avoid it.”
Bob nodded. “Don’t know what kind of time he has, but I’ll check. You want restaurants, bathhouses, and a hotel that won’t give your guide trouble, just stay east of Curry Street and south of William.”
Gideon glanced dubiously around himself. “Where exactly are they?”
Bob chuckled. “You walked in on Washington Street, or ran into it off of William, if you came in from the east. Government buildings, the stock exchange and the like, are all on Curry Street, west of here.” He lowered his voice, as if he disapproved. “Folks can be a bit more uppity in that part of town, think they’re better’n plenty. Carson Street is about eight blocks thataway. You’ll have plenty to choose from. Good Chinese food here, too. Just follow your noses, boys, and step in wherever smells the best. If they got a problem with any color, they’ll usually have a little sign in their shop windows. But since the mint closed, good business people are aiming to keep their business more than their own bad attitudes.”
Gideon liked Bob better all the time, so he set to exchanging news and gossip with him as he pulled Star’s tack and curried her down. Jed found himself a spot in the shade by the livery, but he stood tall, hands hanging loosely at his sides. As unthreatening a picture as he imagined he could be, Gideon thought, and almost felt bad about convincing Jed to come into town.
“Bob?” he asked, keeping his voice low as he moved around Star with the curry comb. “I’ve had some trouble, some places, ’cause I’m traveling with a redskin. He’s a good man, and a better guide, and I really don’t want to find more trouble like that here. You sure I won’t?”
; Bob glanced over to where Jed stood, and looked himself at the picture Jed made. Jed’s eyes were hidden by his hat brim even though Gideon knew he was on the alert and would be taking in every movement around him. “I’m sure,” Bob said, like he meant it. “Most folks are decent here. I’m still sorry we lost the mint. The Treasury had a whole contingent of US Marshals, kept the peace better than any place I’ve ever known, and they’re used to people traveling through. Try the Edmundson Hotel. Tell the proprietor I sent you. She and her husband are Quakers, and just about the most decent folks you could ever run across. She ain’t a bad cook either,” he said, but then he cleared his throat and grinned a little. “But, uh, hers ain’t gonna be the best meal in town.”
“I’ve been eating pemmican, wild onions, and pine nuts, Bob,” Gideon replied, laughing. “She’d have to be a real bad cook to make me want to run back to more of that.” Bob seemed to find that funny enough that he slapped Gideon on the shoulder, startling him. He stepped around as Gideon lifted Star’s hooves, checking the frog and the growth of the horn over her shoes. He’d checked her hooves every day, but familiarity meant his eye wasn’t the best anymore for judging. The farrier would take care of her. Gideon promised to look up the farrier after they got settled in for the evening, and he left Star in Bob’s care before he gathered Jed up out of the shadows.
As they left, he looked back to see Bob stroking Star’s neck and his horse nudging at the man’s shoulder over her stall door. Natural born flirt, his horse. He didn’t realize he’d said it out loud until Jed murmured, “Horses learn from their masters.”
Gideon rolled his eyes up then over to look at his friend. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were jealous.”
Jed glanced around, and Gideon thought he saw a little color flushing those dark cheeks. Still, Jed answered firmly, “I do not need to be loved by a horse.”
Well Traveled Page 14