Nicademus: The Wild Ones (2 page)

“Up!” She pushed at his rump. Surprisingly he went, but disappointingly fell over the saddle, hanging off the other side. Annabelle stepped back and frowned. “It’ll have ta do,” she shrugged. She found his hat and put it on his back. She grabbed the reins and led the horse to her water pail and fetched it. Shadows of circling vultures drew her eyes upward. She squinted at the dark winged creatures. “Looks like I saved you from breakfast,” she chuckled.

The man didn’t make a sound.

Annabelle walked the horse back to her cabin, through the tall sweet grass, stopping to pick a blade and chew on it. Anyone else in town would have let the buzzards pick his bones clean.
But not Annabelle
. She wasn’t like any of them. Her ma said her spirit had no place in this world. A woman born with her skin and strength of mind was destined for heartache, or to be broken under her husband’s boot heel.

Not so
, said her pa. He named her Annabelle, which meant sweet freedom, and that’s what she was. Fr
ee
. Of course she had her share of problems like the rest of them. If it weren’t for Red Sun, raiders, outlaws, or nasty men from the Maki tribe that snuck into town out of White Rock Mountain would have taken her. But she wasn’t scared. She just knew she was destined for something great.

Looking back at her stranger she wondered if the stories Red Sun told of white men like him were true. She had never met a white man, outside of the few who lived among them in town, that she trusted or liked. Never met a kind one, or even a civilized one. They were just mean as rabid dogs and full of hatred for her kind. Was he one of them? Possibly so, but that mattered none. He was hurt, and that meant she could
practice
on him. The thought of practicing on him made her smile.

Annabelle led the horse to the back of the cabin. Built from logs she helped Red Sun chop herself, she was quite proud of it. The girls at Blue Moon were jealous of her. She was the only one who worked there who didn’t have to live there. Ms. Kitty said she was no whore even if she had to work with them. And she and Red Sun made sure she had her dream.

“We’s here.” Annabelle announced. She carried the pail to the wash barrel and dumped fresh water in it. Typically she’d have to make at least six trips to get enough. But that wouldn’t be possible now. Her arms ached and so did her back. She was also late for her chores. For Ms. Kitty and the girls, she had dinner to prepare. There was a hen to cut and pluck, and plenty of cleaning and linen washing to do. Somehow she had to tend to her prisoner and get to work without being suspected.

“Off with ya,” she said. She walked around to the horse. She pulled on the top of his pants and he slid down before he fell over unconscious. “Oh no’s you don’t.” She put his fallen hat on her head and took hold of his collar. She forced him to sit up, barely. He dropped back like the weight he was. This time he was gone, and it felt as if his fever had spiked a degree or two. She rolled her eyes heavenward and noticed something attached to the saddle.
A satchel. A bank bag
. Annabelle let the man drop, never taking her eyes off of the bag. She walked over to it and untied the knot, then opened it to uncover a treasure of gold nuggets inside. It was more gold than she’d ever seen or held in her life.

Now she was in trouble
.

She should have left him where he lay. The law was sure to come and if she was caught with him and the gold. She’d be strung up faster than he would.

“You runnin’ from the law and done brought your troubles to my land!” she kicked at his leg with an angry pout. Annabelle paced. She held the bag tight in her hand and paced. Chewing on her nail she stopped and looked down at him. “I oughta let Red Sun get ya, and shave yo head clean!” she grunted. Dropping next to the man on the ground she hung her head and cried. Her ma said being born free made her spoiled and thoughtless. Ms. Kitty said it made her brave. And Red Sun who didn’t speak English at all only thought to protect her from her wild ways. Well, this right here would prove them all right. She was in deep trouble now. All she wanted to do was
practice
on him. Play doctor. Get him on the mend and send him on his way. Now this?

She could go for Red Sun, but that would doom the stranger for sure. The only real option was to hide him until she knew what better to do. Reaching again she tried to pull him upright, to no avail.

“Come on,” she grunted. The man didn’t move. That left her with no other choice. Tying the gold to the gunslinger belt fastened around her waist, and careful of where she tucked her Colt, she grabbed his hands and began to drag him. The more she dragged the more he groaned, obviously in pain. And then he woke with a throaty cough and wheeze.

Annabelle stopped. She made little progress. “Let us try again. Heh? C’mon,” she said. She grabbed his arms and forced him to sit.

The man blinked awake, looking around disoriented.

“That’s right … it’s not far. I gots you,” Annabelle said.

He sat up. He stood upright, nearly breaking her back in the process. She walked him around the cabin to the front steps and inside. Her place consisted of two rooms. The brick fireplace for cooking and warmth, and the table Red Sun made for her with chairs were dead center. To her left was a cot for company, which were usually the kids from town who loved to come and play at her station. She had a sheet hanging on a fishing line to conceal that guest sleeping area for privacy. If Red Sun got full of the
bull
after a fight with Ms. Kitty and chose to stay, he had a place to lay.

So that’s where she dropped the stranger, thankful to be free of him.

There was only one other room. She even had a door to it. It’s where she slept and dressed. She always kept fresh flowers and lavender from her garden in there to make the place smell like a lady’s boudoir, like the ones the girls kept above the saloon.

Annabelle wiped her hand over her brow again and bemoaned her predicament. “You might as well be dead, you heavier than a corpse.”

She unfastened the gun belt, and with the bag of gold in hand she went into her bedroom. Dropping to her knees she pulled up the floorboard. She stuck them both underneath and put the plywood back in its place.

Dusting her hands she walked back out to tend to his horse. The first thing that needed to be done was to get rid of that saddle. She decided to bury it inside of Red Sun’s chicken hut. She covered it well and nearly got pecked to death for her troubles.

She led the horse back around to where she had kept Ms. Bee, her mare, before she had died. Tying him up, she smoothed his coat. She’d have to get rid of the animal eventually, or come up with a plausible story to claim him. After taking care of the man inside, she was going to work. Maybe she could convince Red Sun that the horse had wandered onto her land? It’s not like he never showed her how to tame a wild one.
Yeah, that’s what she would say
.

Her job done, she reentered the cabin to discover that her guest had tried to escape the cot. In his feverish state he fell over to the side of it. “You gonna have ta be good. Let me help and I promise I make you
right as rain
.” Annabelle returned the man to his back. He smelled something awful. Annabelle’s eyes and nostrils burned at the stench. Immediately she worked off his jacket, vest, and shirt, tossing them aside. She stripped him down to his britches, which would be shameful if she didn’t fancy herself a nurse. She’d seen a penis before. Red Sun often bathed in the creek, and she’d seen his body since she was a child. Plus, she took care of the kids in town, like the little boys who soiled themselves and had to be cleaned up by her hand. However, she’d never seen a penis on a white man. It wasn’t as pale as his torso. It lay flaccid against his thigh with a bit of foreskin at the tip. It was thicker than it was long. She picked it up in her hand and turned it a bit to inspect it closer.

The man groaned.

“So this here is what the fuss is all about?” she chuckled. “I knows about it. Every man in town runs to the Blue Moon to try to poke one of the girls with it. Henry tried to poke me once. But I fixed him good,” she laughed.

Red Sun’s penis was bigger, but not by much. The man groaned again when she tugged on it. Annabelle stared at him curiously for a moment then let go of his dick. She dusted her hands and stood. Her focus returned to the weeping wound on his side. It needed immediate attention. That’s why she brought him home with her in the first place,
to practice
. A nurse needed training, is what Doc Samuel said.

Gathering his things except for his pants––because when he woke she’d make sure they were there for his reach––she took his stuff over to the side of the cabin she reserved for washing. She’d clean them free of stench later.

“Now, I wonder how bad it is.” She dropped to her knees and began her examination. “You’s lucky. Took a plug out of ya it did. But didn’t do much more damage,” Annabelle smiled. “Don’t think infection done set in. I found you in time.”

“I want you to know, my pa was best friends with a shaman,” She began as she inspected the swelling. “Do you know what a shaman is?” She glanced up to him. The man didn’t respond, but he turned his head so she knew he was listening. “A shaman is a native medicine man. He was Chickasaw. Red Sun is Chickasaw too. My pa and ma run out of Tennessee to go north way before the war. They had to stop running and live with the Chickasaw because Ma was pregnant with me. Yep. The shaman is the reason the tribe let them stay. He say my pa was a healer. And the Chief spared him. The tribe taught my parents how to live the Chickasaw way. He taught my pa everything he knew about medicine. I gots my pa’s spirit, is what the shaman told him when I was born. So I gon’ fix you up good! Right as rain. ‘cause only I know how.”

She turned to rise and the outlaw grabbed her arm. Shocked, she drew her Colt from the front of her dress and aimed it at him. His eyes were stretched wide. “They’re all dead!” he managed through clenched teeth with spittle spraying from his mouth. The whites of his eyes were damn near the color of blood. “Ma, Pa, Mary, and James! They dead. He killed them. All!”

“Who? Who done it?” Annabelle asked, careful to keep her gun on him as she tugged to be free of his grip. He weakened and she stumbled away. She put both hands on the gun. It was hard to not be affected when a dying man spoke. And that’s what he was, up until that moment. Dead or dying. The outlaw moaned and repeated one name:
Shep, Shep, he done it
. And then he passed out.

At first she just stared at him before her bravery returned, and then she pushed at his arm with her gun to make sure he hadn’t gone and died on her. He was alive.

They all dead?
“What does that mean?” she wondered out loud.

She tucked the Colt in the front of her dress, just to be safe. The rest of the morning she’d mend the stranger and cool his fever. And as she prepared to do so he began to ramble his tale, an interesting story of murder and a fire. Of kids named Mary and James who were too young to die. He shouted out the name Shep twice and said he’d do something bad to him when he found him. She wasn’t quite sure what kind of outlaw this one was. But she believed him. If Pa was a true healer, then she was a feeler, and she could sense it with this one. Something bad was coming.

2.

Cora glanced up from her counting. She’d gotten a late start Sunday morning after dealing with a rowdy bunch of prospectors before dawn. Yawning, she blinked and focused her weary eyes on the scattered bills and gold coins. “Jessiemae?”

“Yes, Ms. Kitty?” Jessiemae, her most trusted girl on the payroll, a dark skinned beauty with short, thickly coiled hair, full lips, and slanted eyes, answered her. Ms. Kitty was the name Cora had adapted as the madam of the Blue Moon Saloon.

“Where’s Annabelle?” Cora asked.

“She sent word though Jacob early, Ms. Kitty. She said she had to do some work at home. She’d be in late, if’fin at all,” Jessiemae said. “She asked me to go to Doc Samuel to get her some things she needed. That the Doc would be good on it. I’m thinking she not feeling well.”

Cora shook her head. The girl was spoiled. It was Cora and Red Sun that made her so—especially after they bankrolled and built Annabelle her own house. Annabelle was seventeen and should be married to some respectable rancher or banker, not singing nightly in her saloon for coins, or following Doc Samuel around town on his visits with her silly head ideas of becoming a nurse. “If Annabelle isn’t here by noon send someone to check on her,” Cora sighed.

She counted a hundred and fifty. That was the take for the week. It was a damn good week. She put the bounty in her lockbox and turned the key. She dropped the key in between her breasts where she made sure the employees knew she kept it.

“Red Sun’s here,” Jessiemae said. The young woman peeked over at Cora for her reaction. Everyone had heard the fight Cora had had with Red Sun a few days earlier. Her assistant took the lockbox of money and put it in the secured place. Cora nodded her head in thanks for the information. She pushed up from behind her desk and walked out of her second floor office. It was necessary to keep two separate offices to deter theft before she could reach for a gun. She stopped at the balcony and stared down into the saloon. Joshua and Jacob, twins who were ranchers as well as helpers for her business, were the only men she ever put on payroll. Joshua wiped down the bar, while Jacob, her muscle, put the men who lingered out the door. Cora saw Red Sun sitting alone. His back was to her but his coal black silky mane lay flat to his head and flowed past his square shoulders. He couldn’t be missed. And the fact that he didn’t stop at Annabelle’s to get him a proper meal meant he wanted to talk.