Along The Fortune Trail (22 page)

S
ammy was halfway through a cigarette and looking out the window at Frank and Thomas disappearing from view on the trail heading south. She appeared like a fresh day. “Hello, cowboy.”

“Helloooo, Annie. I was wonderin’ what became of you.”

“I had a few things to tend to, but I'm all finished now.”

“Well sit down and have a drink with me. I owe you one.”

“I'd like that. Are you going to spend the night with us?” she asked as she sat down. She could see that Sammy was mildly intoxicated and extinct of any shyness. She wondered how his man ners would hold up.

“Yes, ma'am, Annie. I'm stayin’ put for tonight. And call me Sammy.” He smiled at her. “I like it more personal at this point. Like we know each other.”

“Okay, Sammy. Now we
do
know each other.”

“Well, then. What'll you have?”

“I like tequila.”

“All right. Javier, bring Miss Annie a bottle of your best tequila!”

Javier raised his hands with a look of mock exasperation. “Is only one kind.”

“The best it is then. She'll have it.”

Annie looked at Sammy with amazement. “A bottle? That's pretty ambitious, Sammy. You'll have to help me with it.”

“Well, as you may have noticed, I'm feelin’ ambitious.”

“Then we'll drink to ambition,” she said.

Javier brought the bottle and fresh glasses and Sammy poured her drink and then his. “To the Jupiter Sky and you, Annie,” He clicked his glass to hers.

She gave him a heated, soulful look. “Thank you, Sammy. To your ambitions and their fruitions.”

“Fruitions?” Sammy chimed, slightly surprised. “Yeah, I'm for that. Fruition!”

Sammy drank his shot, and she drank hers quickly, but in two, equally large sips. “I'm glad you're staying. You got the last room. Close call.”

Sammy was surprised to hear it was the last room. He knew other people had arrived since the stage had left, but had not paid much notice since he and the Rolling R.S. boys had been in the throes of storytelling and smoking and drinking. He glanced around at the other folks in the bar. “Good thing I decided now.”

She picked the glasses up and started to rise. “Come on. I'll show you around. Bring the bottle.”

“Yes, ma'am.”

They walked out the front doors into the shade of the yard. The sun had dropped behind the west peak and the clear blue sky above was shading darker with evening coming. She walked toward the barn at a leisurely pace with Sammy in tow. “Your horse in there?”

“I hope so.”

“Pepito!” she called to the barn.

A moment later the boy appeared in the doorway. “Si, señorita.”

“This man is staying the night.”

“Okay,” the boy said. “Do you want me to pull your rig from the horse, señor? We have a storage room. I can put it in there, or I can take your things to your room.”

“Pull my gear and put it in the storage room, save my saddlebags. Put them in my room.”

“You haven't signed the register. You don't have a room yet,” Annie playfully noted.

“You hear that, Pepito? Looks like I'll be sleepin’ in the barn with my horse.”

The boy laughed. “The hay is soft, señor.”

“Put his saddlebags in my office. He'll pick them up later.”

“Si, señorita.”

Annie began to walk. “Come on. I'll show you Stairway to the Stars.”

“On to the stars … on to the moon … across the Jupiter Sky!” Sammy cheered and walked with her across the yard and around the far end of the cantina. “You've got a lot of buildings here,” he commented, noticing several smaller log structures to the side and rear of the main building.

“There are eleven people who live and work here. Javier has a wife and two boys. Pepito you know. That's my cabin right there.”

“It looks nice.”

She led him back to the granite wall where the sign announced the stairway and the worn trail led easily upward. “How did you come to be here, Annie?” he asked as they made their way up the trail.

“I had a man—a gambler he was. We weren't married proper, but hitched just the same. He won himself a big stake and we were headed farther west when we came through here nine years ago. It was a provisions store then, just the main building. Angelo, my man, loved the spot and had a grand vision for it: cantina, hotel, gambling parlor right on the Santa Fe Trail. He made an offer to the old German couple who owned it, and they took it. I don't think they had done too well. We were young and wild, and this was a shot at a real enterprise. Anyway, we added on and the Jupiter Sky Cantina and Hotel was born. There's a wonderful spring here—I don't know how way up here, but it has all the water we could ever use.”

“Where's Angelo now?”

“Dead. He was shot by a gunslinger over a card game down in Trinidad. Angelo beat him at cards and the man accused him of cheating. Angelo could play cards, but he was no match for a fast draw.”

“I'm sorry.”

“It's been five years now. I just kept on and built the business.”

“Is business good?”

“Business is great. There's a lot of folks and goods that travel this trail. More every year—and they all stop here. They don't all spend money here, but just the stopping increases my prospects. And it's a big ole time here on Saturday nights. I get folks from Raton and Trinidad and ranch hands who come for the dancing and good times, just to get away up the country. The cantina does great. I rent my rooms. And my provisions store stays busy. I'm adding on more rooms this fall when the traffic slows down.”

“Well, you sure are somethin’, Annie. You've done a great job here.”

She looked at him, smiling. “Thank you, Sammy.”

They followed the trail its quarter mile, as it slowly rose along the granite face, then meandered in and out of the evergreen, and finally turned the corner of the granite, leading the last hundred feet to its end at a precipice. “Whoaa! Look at that,” Sammy said, gawking at the wooden stairway that spanned a thirty-foot chasm, fifty feet deep with jagged rock below. The stairs rose across like a long ladder to the top of a great boulder standing alone. “That must have been quite a job building that across there,” Sammy speculated, with just the thought of it bringing a more sober moment to his thinking. “How exactly did you do that?”

“We didn't build it,” Annie replied as she started up the stairs. The Germans built it. We just maintain it with varnish and screws.” Sammy followed her up the stairway, hearing the wood groan ever so slightly, but not for lack of strength. It felt solid enough to hold twenty at a time.

The top of the stairs fed them onto the beginning crown of the giant boulder. They walked up the remaining gentle grade of rock and stepped up onto the large wooden platform perched on the flattop far beyond the surrounding cliffs and mountainside with open air all around them. Sammy had the sensation of floating on a small island in the sky, the magnificent, panoramic view of the eastern plains far below, and the spine of the Rocky Mountain range disappearing into the twilight of the south. He slowly scanned it, all as his head turned from north to south. “What a grand sight that is. Sure enough a heart stopper.”

“Pour us a drink and get it started again.”

“I'll do it.”

They sat down on a bench at the front of the platform, and he poured the tequila as she held the glasses. “This sure is fine, Annie. I appreciate all the hospitality. You've been so nice to me right from the start, I wasn't sure …”

“What? If I was a whore?”

He looked at her, embarrassed even in his current condition that she so aptly concluded his thinking, and he felt the fool.

She laughed. “No. I'm just a woman who likes men. But I'm very particular and infrequent about who I like and how much I like them. I liked you from the moment I saw you. That's unusual for me.”

“It's lucky for me.”

“I'm glad you think so. Are you married?”

“No.”

“You have a girl?”

“Yeah.”

“She's not here now … and she's not your wife. You're a long way from home.”

“Yeah, it feels like a long way. A lot's happened.

She lifted the glass to her lips and drank half of it. Sammy followed her lead and drank his shot.

“Why are you up this way?”

Sammy paused for a moment. “It's a long story.”

“It's a long evening.”

He rolled a smoke and she poured two more. Then he began to tell her about the man in the bar that he'd killed and the trip to Denver to collect the reward. She knew instinctually that it was all true as she listened with rapt attention. It was so much more than she'd ever expected. Then he told her about the cave and the Indians and Emily and Claire and Margaret, and his saddle partner, Blaine. “If he sticks to what he last told me, he'll be passin’ through here in a week or two.”

“I'll keep an eye out for him,” she replied. “You two are heroes for risking your lives and saving those women.”

“We didn't have much choice in it … the way it unfolded.”

“I get the feeling it wouldn't have mattered if you'd had a choice. You're the saving kind—all man.”

Dusk turned to night as they talked about each other's lives and looked at the stars, each feeling the slow simmer of desire. “We should get back now,” she finally said. “While we still can. I know my way, but it's dark and the drink is catching me.”

They made their way slowly back down the stairs and down the path, Sammy singing an improvised trail song and Annie attempting to follow along, laughing.

“Gooooodbye to the Jupiter Sky…. Adiooooos, my old amigo. Farewell, till the night comes again…. Then we'll ride, for the heavens my friend.”

He was right next to her when she misstepped on the dark trail and began to stumble. He grabbed her by the waist and pulled her to him. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, and they both knew the moment had unexpectedly arrived. They kissed deeply, the tension of desire suddenly unleashing in the heated meeting of their lips with their bodies pressed tightly together. They separated for a moment, then came together again in another sweltering kiss and embrace. After a long minute they came apart, continuing on till they reached the grounds of the Jupiter Sky. She took his hand and led him to her cabin. “You won't be signing the register tonight,” she said.

The next morning, she heated water and drew a bath in the tub that snugly accommodated two, and they washed each other and wiled away the early hours in a blaze of passion.

Sammy finally rode north at noon, after a hearty breakfast and a long goodbye.

R
aton Pass emptied out onto the plains with the long Rocky Mountain range pressed up against his left flank and running due north, like a guiding arrow. He rode by the settlement of Trinidad, but did not stop, preferring to make time and camp ahead another thirty miles or so. Dobe was ready for the work, and they kept a steady pace through the afternoon, stopping just once so the horse could drink and crop some of the good grass that was present.

As the sun sank low in the sky over the western range and the sojourn of evening drew near, Sammy pulled up a mile west of the trail at the base of the foothills and made camp inside the edge of the trees near a creek. He cut some deadfall for a fire and began to fish in hopes of having something fresher than jerky and hardtack.

The creek ran full and deep, and the water slowed in places where the bank cut away in pockets. Sammy worked the banks of the creek for half an hour without luck. Then as the sun set and shade sprinted east across the plains, the fourteen-inch rainbow hit his line. “Hot damn!” he exclaimed, as he reeled the silvery thrasher up and secured it safely onshore.

He built a fire and rigged the fish on a spit, and then sat in the cool of daylight's last breath and smoked a cigarette while his prize sizzled. Jenny ran through his mind. And then he thought of Annie. He'd never met a woman like Annie before. She was assertive and tough and smart, and she had dealt with circumstances that demanded the rugged individual spirit of the west. And she was all woman. She had undone him like a tornado hitting a pile of hay. His mind ran back to Jenny with pangs of guilt that quickly faded in the cast of overwhelming events of the journey. He knew he loved her, but he also knew that the last six months of his life had changed him in ways he did not yet understand.

Sammy ate his supper, then built the fire up and laid out his bedroll near it. It had been a good day's ride, even with the late start and nursing a hangover. Now he was tired. Night came with stars visible up through the treetops while he lay stretched out smoking a last cigarette. He took a final drag and exhaled slowly then snubbed it out and drifted into deep sleep.

Somewhere in his dream he heard his horse whinny and snort, but even in the depth of his slumber he slowly realized the noise did not seem to fit. His mind untangled the oddity at a pace that spoke to how tired he was, how deeply he slept. His eyes opened before he realized he was awake. Then he heard the movement and his hand reached for the gun belt and rifle at his side. The firelight flickered against the black, dancing a pale yellow that lit the bottom canopy of close trees, but revealed nothing else. He listened hard. The sound of twigs crushing under foot cut the air, and Sammy pulled his pistol as he began to sit up. “You let go that pistol or I'll blow a hole in yer head!”

“Shoot ‘m now Odie,” came another voice from behind Sammy. The rifle barrel pointing at Sammy's face emerged into the light as the man stepped close. He was bearded and wore a greasy canvas coat, homespun trousers, and lace-up boots, and he had on a beaver-tail cap.

“You want me to shoot ‘m?” came the voice from behind Sammy.

Sammy laid the pistol by his side and brought his hands to chest height. “I don't know why you're drawin’ down on me, but I haven't done anything and I'm not lookin’ for trouble.”

A perverted cackle of a laugh came from behind. “You hear that, Odie? He ain't lookin’ fer trouble. You don't hafta look ‘cause it's here,” came the voice and stupid cackle again.

Sammy saw the man who'd been behind him come into view from the side. He had a cocked pistol trained on Sammy. He moved in close and used his foot to scoot away the guns at Sammy's side.

“Get up! Easy,” Odie said.

Sammy stood up, carefully watching the two men holding guns on him.

“Whadaya wanna do with him, Odie?”

“Shut up and quit callin’ me by my name, ya dumb bastard. Get a rope and tie ‘m to that tree.”

“Sorry, Odie.”

“Move over there,” Odie said, directing Sammy toward the nearest tree with his rifle barrel. “Now get yer back up against it and hold still.”

The other man looped the rope around Sammy's chest once and tied it at the back of the tree, then looped it around Sammy and the tree a dozen more times before tying it off.

“Get his knife there and tie his wrists, Clip.”

The other man looked over at Odie. “You just called me by my name.”

“He knows mine. Might as well know yers, too. Yep, he's Clip and I'm Odie.”

Clip finished tying Sammy and then stepped back to observe his work. “That'll hold ‘m.”

Odie put his rifle down and looked at Sammy's gear. “Fancy saddle here. Bring his horse into the light. See what we got,” Odie said, then heaped more wood onto the fire that had little flame left, but a good bed of coals. It sprang to life, throwing more light around the campsite.

“What do you boys want?” Sammy asked, his blood rising as Clip led Dobe into the firelight.

“Yer horse … saddle … guns. And we'll see what else you got. Got some money?” Odie asked. Sammy didn't answer. “We'll know soon enough,” Odie declared.

Clip cackled away at that. “Looky here at this horseflesh. He's a good one,” Clip said.

Odie looked the horse over. “Yeah, he could fetch a price. Or maybe keep ‘m. Looks like a appaloosa.”

Clip liked the idea of keeping him. “I'm the one ridin’ a old mule. If we keep him, I want ‘m.”

“Heeaaaaw! Git Dobe!” Sammy screamed into the night, so loud and sudden that Odie and Clip jumped. The horse bolted, ripping the lead rope from Clip's hand. Clip drew his pistol and quickly pointed and fired as Dobe was disappearing into the dark. Sammy thought he saw Dobe's right hind-quarter flinch with the shot, but Dobe continued at a gallop off into the woods. “You son of a bitch!” Sammy yelled.

Odie strode over and backhanded Sammy with all he had, then punched him in the gut, causing Sammy's head to jerk forward as the air left him. “That might of cost you yer life, mister,” Odie declared as Sammy sucked for air.

Sammy got his breath and his head came up. He was bleeding from the mouth and nose as he looked at Odie. “Well, ain't you just one big ball of tough. Why don't you untie me from this tree and we'll see whose life gives up first.” Odie backhanded him again and Clip stepped in and threw a left hook to Sammy's ribs.

Sammy groaned with the body shot and worked hard to get a breath. Then he glared at both of them with contempt. “Looks like neither one of you shitbags will be ridin’ my horse.”

Clip drew his pistol and cocked it, pointing it at Sammy's face. “You just spoke yer last words,” he said.

Sammy grimly smiled. “Here's a few more—fuck you, you gutless sack of shit.”

Clip's eyes bulged as he shook with anger and backed up two steps. He pulled the trigger. The blast boomed and smoke shot forth and hung for a moment like a thick fog bank before it began to drift and break up in the light breeze.

“You missed,” Sammy said.

Odie and Clip stepped in close and stared in disbelief at the bullet hole inches above Sammy's head, bored into the tree with splintered bark around it. “God damn!” Odie said in amazement. “Ain't he the saltiest dude you ever seen.”

Clip re-cocked the pistol. “No!” Odie said as he put his hand over Clip's hand and pushed the pistol down. “That's too easy for this one. I got a better idea. We'll leave ‘m tied to the tree. See how salty he is when the varmints start feedin’ on ‘m.”

Clip broke into his cackle like he'd just heard the joke of his life. He squinted and looked at Sammy with delight. “Yeaahhh! Wait'll them coyotes and wolves come lookin’ and them crows come peckin’ on your eyeballs.” Clip cackled some more. Sammy was quiet.

Odie reached for Sammy's pockets. “Let's see what he's got in here.” He fished out the silver and gold coins Sammy had in a front pocket and looked at them. “There's nigh unto a hundred dollars here! We cut dead center!” Clip danced a little jig while Odie went through the rest of Sammy's pockets and found chewing tobacco and cigarette tobacco and paper and matches. “I'll have me a smoke now … and a chaw too.”

“Got some more good stuff in these saddlebags?” Clip asked as he sat down by the fire and began to go through one of them. He pulled out a Colt Navy 36 and two knives. “Looky here Odie—another pistol and more knives. He's got three pistols and this Henry rifle and three knives … and a lotta shells.”

“You fixin’ on fightin a war, mister?” Odie asked. Sammy didn't answer.

Clip pulled out two tie cheesecloths that contained jerky and hardtack. He opened them and began to eat as he casually went through the rest of the bag. “Looky here,” he said through a mouthful of jerky and cooked flour, “It's a little fishin’ kit with hooks and such. And he's got hisself a fishin’ pole rigged to this scabbard here … fancy one.”

Odie sat down at the fire and put the money and other contents from Sammy's pockets on the ground in front of him. Then he grabbed the jerky and hardtack and began to eat.

Clip pulled out a brown paper bag and peered in it before pulling out a bit of the contents and examining it closely. “This looks like candy,” he called out with the delight of a five-year-old. He put a piece in his mouth, right along with the unfinished jerky and hardtack.

“Lemme see that,” Odie said, grabbing the bag. He dug out a few pieces, throwing them in with his mouthful and chewing contentedly, slurping and smacking.

Clip grabbed the other saddlebag and started in on it. He pulled out Sammy's extra shirt, pants, socks, and skivvies and a pair of gloves. Then his eyes lit up. “Oh yeah! Here's a little some-thin’ for us!” Clip pulled out the half-full pint bottle with a cork stopper. “We got us some ‘shine!” He examined the label. “Looks like some homefire.”

Odie was impatient. “Well, have a drink and pass it here.”

Clip pulled the cork and smelled it. “It don't smell like corn or rye … or any other I smelled before. But it smells like alcohol. Say, what the hell is this?” Clip asked Sammy as he drew his pistol and aimed it at him, imagining he might get a fear-induced answer.

Sammy spoke slowly and sincerely. “My grandmother makes her moonshine with prunes. Keeps her happy and regular.”

Clip looked bewildered for a moment then holstered his gun and took a sip.

“How is it?” Odie asked.

“I can taste them prunes … I think. It ain't much fer flavor, but it sure is fermented. He tipped the bottle to his lips and slugged back several ounces, then coughed from it. “Hoooo!”

“Give it here!” Odie demanded. Clip handed the bottle to Odie, who drank nearly all of it, but left the final ounce for Clip, and handed the bottle back. Odie took a deep breath as he felt the burn. “That
is
different ain't it? Kinda good—like pine tar liquor or somethin’.”

Clip looked at the bottle again, then drank the rest and tossed it into the fire. Sammy watched closely as Odie rolled up several cigarettes then handed one to Clip. The two men lit up and began to smoke as they ate more jerky and candy and talked about their haul of booty.

Odie reached for the coins and divided them up in a way he was sure favored him, then gave the rest to Clip. “There's yer half.” Clip didn't seem to notice any discrepancy and quickly pocketed his loot. “We might could find that horse in the morning. He'd bring a fast hundred,” Odie said.

“If we find ‘m, I want ‘m,” Clip said, resolutely.

“Then you gotta give something for ‘m. You don't just get ‘m.”

“I'll give somethin’. We gotta find ‘m ‘fore I give it anyways.”

“If you hit ‘m with that shot he might bleed out or be no good. You gotta pay then anyways.”

“Not if we don't find ‘m. Then it's just like he run away and was gone … and that weren't my doin’.”

“If yer shootin was anything like yer shootin at that feller, then that horse is just fine. So we oughta look for ‘m.”

“I hit ‘m, I'm pretty sure.”

“Maybe. But why'd you even shoot at ‘m?”

“I didn't want ‘m getting’ away.” Clip quite suddenly had a peculiar look on his face. “I don't feel right. I can't feel my body,” he said slowly with a tapering slur. His expression became disoriented as his head began to roll around and his eyelids went to half-mast.

“What's wrong with you?” Odie asked Clip, who was no longer able to speak. His body looked like it was melting. His arms flopped limply to his sides, and his head teetered about with gurgling sounds coming from his deformed mouth. Then he simply folded backwards into the dirt and did not move.

“Clip! Clip!” Odie yelled. He looked over at Sammy. “What's wrong with him? What was in that bottle?” Sammy didn't answer. Odie felt the wave rush over him like an ocean of warm honey permeating every pore. A look of drugged panic beset his face and he tried to get to his feet, wobbling badly as he did so. As he reached a standing position, the intensity of the drug's grip soared by the second. He sensed his final moment had come. Odie stumbled a few steps, then lost consciousness and toppled face first into the campfire.