Sipping Whiskey in a Shallow Grave (14 page)

Edwin got up slowly and yawned. He wandered over to the chuckwagon. He glanced back at the fire to make sure no one was watching him.

“Lost my damn hat,” Edwin said to Emmanuel. “Got an extry?”

Shaking his head, Emmanuel reached into the back. He got a hold of an empty flour sack, like the one around his waist. He shook it out a couple times and handed it to Edwin.

“Tie this to ya head.”

Edwin looked at him in disbelief.

“Pullin' my teat?” he asked in a half-whisper.

“Oh, no, done this muhse'f once out on the trail,” Emmanuel said. “Head'll stay warmish.”

The fire cracked and popped. The men were all sitting on their saddle blankets because the ground was damp and cold. Since LG had finally broken the silence, Davis decided it was safe enough to try his hand at conversation.

“Casey…what happened to your pup?”

Stirring, Casey inhaled slowly and sat up straight.

“Stepped on. He was just young. Didn't know which end of a horse gets up first.”

Davis tossed a piece of dried apple toward the big dog. It landed on the ground right in front of his nose. He ate it without even lifting his head.

“Aw that's too bad,” Davis said. “First saw him, thought he was part lobo…maybe ki-yote.”

“Maybe he is, I don't rightly know.”

A soft breeze blew up and whipped the flames around for a minute. Then the night grew calm again. Turning slowly toward Steve McGonkin, LG aimed a hard look in his direction.

“Next watch starts at four,” he said.

Leaning close LG added, “Need me to
wake
you?”
 

The older McGonkin brother leaned away, careful to avoid LG's eyes. He knew the man was mad at him. It had been Rufe's fool idea to toy with that dead beeve. Of course, Steve went along with it, so what could he say? Sometimes that brother of his was dumber than a post. If Rufe
ever
tried to fool with dead beeves again, Steve was bound and determined not to join in.
 

“No sir,” Steve replied quietly. “No need.”

“Well, don't spook the herd when you crawl outta your hot roll.”

“No sir, I won't.”

“You bet you won't. Cut a pair of chaps outta your hide.”

Steve got to his feet.

“Best get my bedding.”

Shaking his head in disgust, LG stared holes in Steve's back as the man made his way to the wagon. The antelope skin Emmanuel had been working on was stretched across one of the wheels. It still needed to be scraped. Steve needed to reach between the water barrel and that wagon wheel to get his bedroll. He tried not to get blood on his shirt. His bedding was buried, but he managed to dig it out and then went off into the aspens. Normally, he liked to sleep by the fire. Not tonight. He wished he had some hot coffee in him before he turned in, but glancing back at LG he knew it was better not to wait around for it.

Emmanuel walked over to the ring of cowboys. He suspected the water would be hot enough to get some coffee going. The lid on the pot was flopping. One thing a good cook never did was boil the coffee. Davis told him that frequently, but Emmanuel always forgot to check the water until he heard the lid flopping — a sure sign the water was boiling.

Gyp sat on a stump warming his hands. He had taken the remuda ahead of the herd, following the chuck wagon through Spring Gulch all the way into the glen. As Emmanuel set up camp, Gyp set up a rope corral. The rope was half an inch thick, and he always stretched it taut four feet above the ground. That was the only thing holding the horses in, but it always worked. When the stampeding cattle came rushing into the meadow, Gyp's first thought was that the horses would bust right out, and then he would have a chore on his hands. But they did not bust out, which was a relief.

Emmanuel picked off the lid and poured fresh ground coffee into the boiling water. Cracking an egg, Emmanuel dropped it right in, shell and all, and put the lid back on. Davis just shook his head.

The cook yawned and straightened up slowly. He was ready for the summer. Emmanuel hated the winter. Especially up in the mountains, the cold temperatures always hung on longer than down on the plains. He hoped that last snowstorm was it, and warmer weather was on its way.

“Aw, crud!”

It was Steve's voice, out in the aspen grove. Emmanuel was the only one who heard, but he knew what happened. He had gutted the antelope back there, and the guts were piled between two trees. Steve probably walked right through the goo. No flies were out, but when the sun came up there would be a lot of them buzzing around. If there had been flies right then, perhaps Steve would have had some kind of warning. Since Emmanuel knew they would all be on trail again in just a few hours, he didn't waste time taking the guts further out.

No one else was in a talking mood, so Casey chatted with Davis.

“What outfit were you working for last?”

“Spent all last summer at Ferguson's ranch, up in Estes,” Davis replied. “Worked till the wagon pulled off, the last of November. Lee was up there, too…at the Elkhorn. But you know how winter goes. Not much for a buckaroo.”

“Don't tell me you signed on with the railroad.”

Davis grinned.

“Took up with the Rio Grande, laying track down across the Bayou Salado,” he told Casey. “Boy, they're probably up Trout Creek Pass by now. Shoulda drifted south — cording mossheads on the Matamortos would be better than freezing my tail in Lake George. Miserable work.”

Now that both Rufe and Steve were out of his sight, LG was starting to relax.

“Any work you can't do from a saddle is miserable,” he said. “Ain't that right, Ima?”

LG kicked at Ira's outstretched boot.

Ira frowned and pulled his foot away. He had only known LG for less than a week. He wondered how long it would take for LG to get his name right.

 

Chapter 25

Ward

 

Even in the light of dawn, it was obvious the fresh snow was not going to last. Everything started dripping as the air warmed. It seemed like every few minutes another pine branch would shake off a clump of snow.

Julianna stood on the porch, bundled up beneath the stout eaves which overhung the front door. She loved mornings. It was so peaceful. Two robins flew down and landed in a fir tree. Their red chests were fluffy and they shook their feathery wings to flick out the moisture.

With a smile, Julianna watched them chirp at each other. Then they noticed her. Their little black eyes were curious.

“I have no crumbs for you,” she told them.

From inside the house, she heard footsteps and low conversation. It was Samuel and Josephine, starting the day themselves. Julianna was an early riser, especially when she slept in a strange place. Their guest room was nice and the spring bed was comfortable — but it wasn't hers.

Julianna was about to go in and say good morning, but then she heard Josephine's voice rise. It was obviously an argument. Perhaps it was better to wait outside for a few more minutes.

Finally, the door creaked open. Wrapping a shawl around her shoulders, Josephine came outside and joined her on the porch.

“Domestic tranquility,” Josephine announced wryly. “Head of the household…what purebred nonsense.”

She stomped the porch — she was mad. Julianna gave her a hug and a kind smile.

“You're moving, then.”

Josephine sighed.

“We're moving.”

The two robins were still watching from their tree. After a minute they both flew down onto the wet grass, looking for worms to come to the surface. The snow was melting and they knew it.

Julianna took her hand and squeezed.

“Come on, let's walk.”

The air was cool but not as cold as other mornings that week. The sky was getting lighter with each step.

“Let's get breakfast together one more time before I go home,” Julianna said. “Away from Samuel and his Hilltop Mine.”

They walked up the road and wound past the neighbors' homes. Other people were up with the dawn, too, but the two young women had the road to themselves most of the way. Above town somewhere, dynamite went off and shook the air. The first blast of the day.

They turned onto the main road and made their way uphill, breathing loudly with the effort. The Haw & Gee was still open — it had never closed. Like most of the mountain towns, Ward entertained its own gamblers and drinkers all night long. For them, the first detonation of the day was their dinner bell.

A wagon was parked at the top of the hill, where several men were busy leveling a tall pole with ropes and mules. Julianna and Josephine walked by, looking up to see what was going on.

“Telephone line,” Josephine told Julianna. “Can you believe it?”

“It was only a matter of time.”

“Don't have that in Horseshoe,” Josephine muttered darkly. “Don't have a school, barely a post office. What am I suppose to do when the child comes?”

Stopping suddenly, Julianna grabbed her by the shoulders.

“A baby?” she asked. “Is that what's going on?”

Josephine nodded. She was in a bad mood, but Julianna broke into a warm smile and gave her a hug.

“Josephine, you could have told me you were having a baby! I'm so happy for you.”

“Come on, I'm hungry,” Josephine said. But it was hard for her to stay angry. She was angry at her husband anyway, for deciding to take a job at the Hilltop Mine and relocate the family to Horseshoe — without her say in the matter. Since he was back at the house, she decided to let it go. This may be one of the last times she got to spend with Julianna, and she did not want to waste it complaining about an obstinate spouse.

They went to the Halfway House for breakfast. At that hour, they had their pick of tables. Several Chinese men were there already, having their own morning meal. Their conversation was gibberish to the women. Coming out from the kitchen, Hugh waved them over.

“Something to eat for you?”

“For both of us, please,” Julianna answered.

They made their way to a table by the big picture window. They looked out over the treetops and the steep green slopes. It was a beautiful morning, and Julianna could not believe her friend's news.

“Why haven't you told me yet?”

“If you would come to town more than once a month, I could tell you these things.”

“I get here more than that,” Julianna retorted. “What about Hazel? Vera?”

“Haven't said,” Josephine said softly. “I've just realized myself, here, recent.”

Hugh set down two steaming plates of eggs and beef.

The main door swung open and a tall stockman came in. Hugh glanced up from Julianna and Josephine to see who it was.

“Til Blancett!” he called. “With you in a moment.”

Til waved. He stepped up to the bar and set his coat and gloves on top. He had slept later than he expected to. But the barn had been closed up tight — it had kept the heat in, but when the sun rose it kept the light out, too.

“Let me fix you a plate,” Hugh told him and disappeared in the kitchen.

Til turned to survey the room. He saw the Chinamen talking among themselves, and the two women sitting at the window. He tipped his hat towards Julianna and Josephine.

Hugh returned from his kitchen with a plate and coffee. He set it in front of Til.

“Two bits?”

“Yep,” Hugh said. “How's the B-Cross-C?”

“Moving out, actually.”

“Thought you just moved back up there!” Hugh said, surprised.

“I did.”

“Guess it has something to do with the Great Die-Up.”

“Changes the game.”

Til sampled the eggs. They were scrambled up and mixed with some kind of cheese. Usually Til ate hard-fried eggs. But that was because whenever he cooked eggs for himself, that was how they turned out.

“Tell Xin he did good.”

Hugh snorted.

“That Oriental can't comprehend a bleat I say.”

 

Chapter 26

 

The door eased open and Bill Ewing walked into the Halfway House. Vincent came in right behind him.

Before he got very far, Bill turned to look out the window. There they were, walking around in a tight-knit group: Poqito, Caverango, Granger and Lem were following Ned around. Bill grimaced. They looked like a damn circus troupe. Didn't they realize all the locals were staring at them? This was just a dinky little mining town. In a small town, you had to take pains to blend in — you don't want to stick out. Now here they were, trying to outrun a posse and these fools were making a spectacle of themselves.

“Traipsing along like mice and the piper,” Bill said softly. “Tell those clowns to separate.”

Going back outside, Vincent flagged them down. Ned saw and came right over — the others turned and followed along on Ned's heels. Still watching from the window, Bill shook his head at their tactless behavior.

“Get you a plate?” Hugh asked him.

Bill pulled off his wet leather gloves. His coat was damp and dirty. He took it off and hung it on a wall peg.

“Whatever you got on the stove.”

Vincent came back in. He took off his own coat and draped it over his arm. His vest looked prim and clean, like he was out in his Sunday best. Bill smirked. That guy always looked proper. Even after getting shot at, burnt out, and riding all night in the wind.

“What about those pickle-nuts?” Bill asked him.

“Parsed out — two by two,” Vincent said, pointing out the window. “Like Noah's Ark.”

Bill turned and looked again. Ned had stopped and was standing in the street unscrewing his whiskey bottle. Lem and Granger were walking one way, while Poqito and Caverango were headed in the exact opposite direction. Across the street, a freighter was loading his wagon at the general store. The storekeeper was helping him with crates. They both had stopped to watch.