Ralph Compton Death Along the Cimarron (28 page)

“I'm saying he would,” said Frisco. “He'd forget the past if you would. And sure he'd let you ride with us after all the thievery you and me's done together.... You're an old hand at it now.”

Ellen looked on in disbelief. “Dave, what is he talking about, all the
thievery
you've done together?”

“Like I told you, Ellen, it's a long story,” said Dave.

“I have time to listen,” said Ellen, pulling away from his encircling arm.

Over the next few minutes, while Ellen Waddell sipped coffee from Dave's battered tin cup, she listened to her husband tell her about everything that had happened since she'd last seen him lying in the dirt out front of their home. Dave told her how their neighbor, Danielle Strange, and the old man Stick had ridden by searching for Cherokee Earl. He told her how the two had found him there and brought him along to search for her. Then he went on to tell Ellen about Billy Boy Harper shooting Danielle Strange and about Frisco shooting Stick. Ellen sat amazed, a tear falling from her eye as Dave told her about the robberies he'd committed with Frisco in order to raise money and supplies to keep on her trail. When he'd finished telling her the whole story, he let out a long breath and sat slumped for a moment.

“Ellen,” he said at length, “I'm ashamed of these things I've done ... but I had no choice.” Now a tear ran down his cheek as well. “I had to find you. I couldn't give up the hunt until I knew you were all right.”

“But, Dave, those people ... they were innocent, hardworking folks for all you know. How can you justify robbing them? You have to do something to make all of this right.”

“Uh, well, it's something I'll sure do some serious thinking about,” he said to Ellen, shooting Frisco a knowing glance as he spoke. In telling Ellen his story, Dave had failed to mention that there had been murder committed, and that, although he hadn't been the one to do the killing, he was still in it up to his neck. Legally, he would hang alongside Frisco if the law ever found them.

“You'll
think
about it?” said Ellen, surprised by her husband's attitude. “You'll simply have to go to the law and tell them what happened. You'll explain why you did what you did and that you'll pay back every dollar you took.”

Dave Waddell wiped his eye, gave Frisco another glance, then said, “Ellen, believe me, sometimes it's better to just let things lie. In the long run everybody will be better off.”

Listening closely, Frisco shook his head and cut in long enough to say, “If you two will excuse me, I'll just get my stuff, get saddled up, and move right along.”

“In the middle of the night?” Dave asked.

“Yeah, I think so,” said Frisco. “I know when I'm the third wheel.”

“But you can wait till morning,” said Dave, half rising from the ground beside the fire. Ellen stared at him curiously.

“Thanks but no, thanks,” said Frisco. As he walked away toward the horses, he paused for a second, looked around at Dave Waddell, and said, “Not saying that you will of course, Dave ... but if you should change your mind for any reason and want to join me, I'll be riding the Cimarron trail all the way to town.”

Dave only glanced at Frisco long enough to see the knowing smile on his face. Then Dave hung his head and said, “No, Frisco, I reckon I'll be riding on back home now ... my wife and I.”

Ellen still only stared at him, not sure how she should take his words. Was there a sound of defeat in her husband's voice? The two sat in silence until Frisco stepped up into his stirrups and rode off into the darkness. “Well, that's that,” said Dave Waddell, standing up beside the fire, shoving his hands down into his trouser pockets. “It would probably be best if we moved our camp away from here.”

“Yes, I believe it would be wise,” said Ellen. She stood up beside her husband, studied his face in the fire glow, and said quietly, “You want to ride into Cimarron with him, don't you?”

“What? No ... Hell, no,” said Dave Waddell. But the look in his eyes told her he was lying, and he knew it. He relented a bit and said in a softer tone of voice, “Well, let's face it, he's talking about a lot of money. It would sure make up for what-all we've lost these past days.

“So you do want to ride with Cherokee Earl?” Ellen asked.

“Well ...” Dave let his words trail. Then he said, “But even if I did, what about you? We need to get you home, let you put all of this behind you.”

Ellen caught herself again staring at her husband, wondering how she could have lived with a man so long and never realized until now just how little she knew him. “You would ride with the men who kidnapped your wife,” she said flatly.

“No,” said Dave, “because, as you can see, I'm still right here, ain't I?” He spread his hands to take in the campsite. “Right here where I should be. By your side.”

Ellen detected a faint sourness in his voice, but she let it pass without commenting on it. After a lengthy, awkward silence, she said, “A lot has happened to us, Dave. We'll need to take some time to let things heal.”

“I know,” he said. “And we'll take all the time we need.” After another pause, he said, “I—I don't dare ask how you were treated, or what he and the others did to you.”

“Thanks, Dave, for understanding,” Ellen said softly. “It's something I can't talk about.... Not now, perhaps never.”

Facing away from her and staring down into the fire, Dave said, “I'm sure you did whatever you had to to stay alive, so I'll never question your judgment ... or blame you for any of it.”

Blame me
... ? She stared at him. “Dave, no matter what I did or didn't do, I was kidnapped ... taken against my will, forced against my will to do whatever that dog—” She stopped, then said aloud to herself, “What am I doing? Defending
my
actions?”

“No, don't, please,” said Dave. “We don't need to go over the details.”

“Good,” Ellen said sharply, “because for a moment there I was afraid you might not approve of the way I allowed myself to be pawed and violated by that sweaty, greasy pig.”

“Please don't!” said Dave. “I know it wasn't your fault, none of it. I just have to find a way from now on to accept the fact that another man has—” He stopped himself, then said, “Well ... you know.”

“Oh, well, thanks,” said Ellen sarcastically. “I feel much better now.”

“I didn't mean it like that, Ellen,” he said, reaching with both arms to hold her.

“I'm sure you didn't,” she replied, backing away.

“I'm sorry,” said Dave. “That's all I can say. Think of me here, of what I've been through ... knowing what was happening, being powerless to stop it. I've been through hell!”

“Yes,” she said, “what time you weren't robbing people with your pard, Frisco Bonham!” She looked him up and down. “Frankly, Dave, you don't look all that hurt to me.”

“Yeah? Well, neither do you, if I might say so,” Dave hissed, his temper rising.

“What is that supposed to mean?” Ellen asked heatedly.

“You're a woman of the world now,” said Dave. “You figure it out.”

“A woman of the world?” Ellen repeated his words, feeling rage begin to boil inside her. “Because I'm not standing here with my face beaten in, my bones broken! Because of that, I have somehow let you down? I turned loose of my virtue too quickly, too easily? Is that what you mean?”

“Did you even put up a fight?” Dave asked, holding nothing back now.

“No!” Ellen shouted. “I did not put up a fight! I let him do whatever he wanted to do to me. I made no effort to stop him! I lay there like a sack of feed while he grunted and slobbered and bored himself inside me!”

“Stop, that's enough!” Dave shouted, unable to abide the terrible scene her words evoked in his mind. “I don't want to hear any more!”

“You're a liar, Dave.” Her voice dropped low, like the harsh purr of a mountain cat. “You want to hear more.... You want to hear every sick detail. But you want to hear it on your terms. You want me to clean it up, tell it to you in a way that will allow you to forgive me for it.” Her voice rose suddenly. “You son of a bitch! You want to know if I enjoyed it! You stupid bastard! No, I hated it! If I hadn't managed to play Joe Turley along, make him promises of giving myself to him, let me tell you what I would have done.”

“No, stop!” said Dave.

But she ignored him and continued. “I would have given myself to Earl on the ground, buck naked, while the whole gang watched!”

“I mean it, Ellen—stop it!” Dave threatened.

She didn't seem to hear him. “If I would have had to, I would have groaned and moaned and screamed in delight! And while I did so, I would have been slipping my hand along his thigh until I could dose it around his pistol!”

“Damn you! Shut up!” Dave slapped her. She reeled but refused to stop.

“Then I would have blown my brains out!” Her hands covered her face. She wept violently.

Dave stood helplessly by, unable to approach her, unable to console her. When her crying subsided and she wiped her eyes and stared into the fire, she said in a calm voice, “Dave, there is something about me you should know.” She hesitated, then went on. “Before I met you? Remember I told you I was away in a ladies' business college? Well, that wasn't true. I lived on my own, Dave, in Washington, D.C., less than three miles from the White House. I made a living entertaining men in private.”

“What? My god!” said Dave. “I had no idea!”

“I know,” said Ellen. “I kept it a secret from you.” She sniffled and wiped her nose on her coat sleeve. “When I met you in Colorado, I knew I could make you a good wife. After all, I know how to please.... I should, I've done it often enough.”

“I'm not going to listen to any of this,” said Dave. “I think you're making it up. I think you're talking out of your head. We shouldn't have ever let this conversation get started. Let's stop it right now.”

Her face still stung from where he'd slapped her. “There's no stopping now, Dave. It's all coming out into the open. I don't want to hide who I am or what I've done. It's all that's kept me alive throughout this ordeal.” She paused and considered things, then said, “Funny, isn't it? I left that life because I felt like public property to any man who would pay me. Now, all these years later, I used the skills I learned in that life in order to keep myself alive—protect your personal property, so to speak. Now it appears that my having done such a good job of staying alive is being called into question.” She sighed long and deep, then murmured, “Men.... What the hell do you fellows want?”

“I don't know,” said Dave, his whole demeanor suddenly rigid and unyielding, “but after this conversation, I don't think it's you.” He refused to face her as he spoke. “I think when we get somewhere where there's a stagecoach, it would be best to put you on it. I often thought there were things I didn't know about you. You've deceived me all along. I will never be able to get over that.”

“I understand,” said Ellen. “I suppose I wouldn't expect you to.”

As Dave stared into the fire, Ellen walked away for a moment.

“I know I ain't perfect,” said Dave. “Maybe I've dealt a little dirt in business deals. I've put my hands on stolen cattle. But up until this thing happened, I've never robbed anybody, brought harm to anybody. I've only done what a man does. All I ever wanted was a good, decent, honest wife,” Dave said down to the licking flames. “I thought that was what I had. Now it turns out I was wrong.”

“I've let you down something terrible, haven't I?” said Ellen.

“Let me down? Ha! To say the least, you've let me down.” He turned his eyes to hers as she returned to the campfire. “I wish to God we'd never met,” he said bitterly.

“So do I,” said Ellen. Dirty Joe's rifle bucked once in her hand, the explosion causing something above them in the scrub cedars to take flight, letting out a short screech and a windy sound of powerful beating wings. Dave Waddell hit the ground stone dead, one arm flinging over into the licking flames of the campfire.

Ellen reached out with the toe of her scuffed and ragged shoe and flipped his arm from the flames just as the skin on his hand began to sizzle and blacken, peeling back in layer after layer. She looked around the small campsite, then back down at the body of her husband lying dead on the ground. “Earl, you son of a bitch,” she hissed as if Cherokee Earl was standing there. “I've got one more stop to make.... Then I'm going home.”

Frisco Bonham had heard the gunshot as he rode toward Cimarron. While the echo of the explosion still rolled across the land, he'd smiled to himself and said to his horse and the surrounding darkness, “Looks like they just settled their differences the hard way.” Laughing aloud at his little joke, he batted his boots against his horse's sides and rode on toward Cimarron. Less than a mile from town, as his horse rounded a turn in the road, Frisco came upon Cherokee Earl and Avery McRoy as they made their way back to the shack hideout.

“Damn, Frisco,” said McRoy, settling his startled gelding, “don't spook the horses!”

“I didn't come looking for you just to spook the horses,” Frisco replied, his horse turning a complete circle before coming to a nervous halt. He studied their shadowed faces in the thin moonlight. “What's the odds of me running in to you two?”

Both Cherokee Earl and Avery McRoy looked equally surprised to come upon Frisco so suddenly in the dark of night. “Pretty damn good, I'd say,” Earl chuckled. He leaned slightly and looked along the trail behind Frisco. “Where's Billy Boy?”