The Sisters Brothers (15 page)

Chapter 41

The Golden Pearl was simply bathed in wine-red heavy velvet, with hundred-candle chandeliers over each table, bone china plates, silk napkins, and solid silver cutlery. Our waiter was an immaculate, ivory-skinned man in a night-black tuxedo with blue silk spats and a ruby lapel pin that all but blinded a man to look upon it. We asked for steak and wine, preceded by brandy, an order that pleased him fundamentally. ‘
Very
good,’ he said, writing with a flourish on his leather-bound pad. ‘
Very, very
good.’ He snapped his fingers and two crystal snifters were placed before us. He bowed and retreated but I had every faith he would soon return, that he would see us through our dining experience with the utmost charm and agility. Charlie took a sip of the brandy. ‘Jesus, that’s nice.’

I took a short drink of it. It tasted entirely separate from any brandy I had ever drunk. It was so far removed from my realm of the brandy-drinking experience I wondered if it might not be some other type of spirit altogether. Whatever it was I enjoyed it very much, and promptly took another, longer drink. Attempting to sound casual about it, I said, ‘Where are we in terms of our being in the Commodore’s service?’

‘What do you mean?’ he asked. ‘We are continuing on with the job.’

‘Even though he has misled us?’

‘What do you propose we do, Eli? There isn’t any point in severing ties with him until we investigate this so-called River of Light. Even if we were not working for him, I would still be set on investigating.’

‘And if Warm and Morris are successful? Do you plan to rob them?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘If they are not, I suppose we will kill them.’

Charlie shrugged, his attitude light and carefree. ‘I really don’t know!’ he said. The waiter brought out our steaks; Charlie pushed a forkful into his mouth and groaned at its delicious taste. I also took a bite, but my mind was on something else. I decided to broach it at once, while Charlie was in a high mood. I said, ‘It occurred to me that if we never spoke of finding Morris’s diary, no one could think us incorrect in returning to Oregon Territory.’

At these words Charlie swallowed, and his gladness from a moment earlier vanished from his face. ‘What in the hell are you talking about?’ he asked. ‘Would you explain it to me, please? Firstly, what would we tell the Commodore when we got back?’

‘We would tell him the truth, that Morris defected with Warm, their whereabouts unknown. We could never be expected to find them without any clue to lead or guide us.’

‘At the very least, the Commodore would expect us to check Warm’s claim.’

‘Yes, and we could say we did and found nothing. Or if you would rather, we could actually visit the place on our return trip. We know Warm won’t be there, after all. My point is, if it’s only the diary’s contents that impels us to continue, then let us burn the book and carry on as though we never laid eyes upon it.’

‘And what if the diary isn’t the only thing that impels us?’

‘It is the only thing that impels me.’

‘What is your actual proposition, brother?’

I said, ‘Between the Mayfield stash, and our savings back home, we have enough to quit the Commodore once and for all.’

‘And why would we do something like that?’

‘It seemed you were for it, before. You have never thought about quitting?’

‘Every man that has ever held a position has thought about quitting.’

‘We have enough to stop it, Charlie.’

‘Stop it and do what?’ He picked a piece of fat from his teeth and flung this onto his plate. ‘Are you
trying
to ruin my dinner?’

‘We could open the store together,’ I said.

‘What
the
? What
store
?’

‘We have had a long go of it, and we both have our health and some of our youth left. Here is our chance to get out.’

He was becoming progressively frustrated by my words, and would shortly drop his fist on the table and lash out at me, truly. But just as he was reaching the point of actual anger, some inner thought calmed him and he returned to sawing his steak. He ate with a full appetite while my food turned cold and when he was finished he called for the check and paid for both plates, despite the cost. I was prepared, then, for him to say something hurtful at the conclusion of the meal, and he did. Draining the last of his wineglass he spoke: ‘We have established, anyway, that you wish to stop. So stop.’

‘Do you mean to say I would stop but you would continue on?’

He nodded. ‘Of course, I would need a new partner. Rex has asked for work in the past, perhaps he could come along.’

‘Rex?’ I said. ‘Rex is like a talking dog.’

‘He is obedient like a dog.’

‘He has the brains of a dog.’

‘I could bring Sanchez.’

At this I coughed, and a trickle of wine flowed from my nostril. ‘Sanchez?’ I sputtered. ‘Sanchez?’

‘Sanchez is a good shot.’

I held my stomach and laughed. ‘Sanchez!’

‘I am merely thinking aloud,’ Charlie said, reddening. ‘It might take some time to find someone suitable. But you’ve made your decision, and that is fine by me. It will be welcome news to the Commodore, also.’ He lit a cigar and sat back in his chair. ‘We will continue with this job and part ways after its completion.’

‘Why do you say it like that? Part ways?’

‘I will stay on with the Commodore and you will turn clerk.’

‘But do you mean to say we won’t see each other?’

‘I’ll see you when I come through Oregon City. Whenever I need a shirt, or some underthings, I will be there.’ He stood and stepped away from the table and I thought, Does he actually want me to stop, or is he merely tricking me into continuing by goading me along? I studied his carriage for the answer to this; I received a clue when his brow unknotted and his spine went slack—he was pitying me, in all my wounded wretchedness. He said, ‘Tomorrow morning we will ride out to find Warm and Morris. Let us finish the job and see where we stand afterward.’ He turned and walked from the restaurant. The elegant waiter appeared beside me, inhaling windily as I stood to go, for my meal was all but untouched, and he was insulted that such beautiful food should go to waste. ‘Sir!’ he called after me, his tone richly indignant. ‘Sir! Sir!’ Ignoring him, I walked into the wildness of the San Francisco night: Swaying lanterns on passing carts, a whip’s constant recoil, the smell of manure and burned oil, and a ceaseless, all-around caterwauling.

I returned to the room to sleep and saw no more of Charlie until morning, when I awoke to find him fully dressed and washed, clean shaven and pink cheeked; his movements were sharp and alert and I felt a hopefulness that this change in his temperament was related somehow to our argument of the previous evening, that he had elected to remain relatively sober and to rise early so I might by association have a better time of it, and that we might view the job from the moral standpoint. But now I saw his pistol handles were gleaming in their holsters—he had cleaned and polished them, as was his habit prior to the completion of an assignment. His decision to pass a peaceful night without excessive drinking was not done to please or soothe me but so that he might be fully present for the probable murder of Warm and Morris. I rose from the bed and sat at the table across from him. I found I could not face him, and he said, ‘It will never do, your pouting like this.’

‘I’m not pouting.’

‘It’s pouting, all right. You can pick it up again just as soon as the job’s done, but for now you’re going to have to cork it.’

‘I tell you I’m not.’

‘You can’t even look at me.’

I looked. And it was as though there was nothing in the world wrong with him, his manner was perfectly at ease. I imagined what he in turn was seeing in me, hair wild, rubbery belly pushing against an unclean undershirt, eyes red and filled with hurt and mistrust. It came over me all at once, then: I was not an efficient killer. I was not and had never been and would never be. Charlie had been able to make use of my temper was all; he had manipulated me, exploited my personality, just as a man prods a rooster before a cockfight. I thought, How many times have I pulled my pistol on a stranger and fired a bullet into his body, my heart a mad drum of outrage, for the lone reason that he was firing at Charlie, and my very soul demanded I protect my own flesh and blood? And I had said Rex was a dog? Charlie and the Commodore, the two of them together, putting me to work that would see me in hell. I had a vision of them in the great man’s parlor, their heads enshrouded in smoke, laughing at me as I sat on my comical horse in the ice and rain outside. This had actually taken place; I knew it to be the truth. It had happened and would happen again, just as long as I allowed it.

I said, ‘This is the last job for me, Charlie.’

He answered without so much as a flinch: ‘Just as you say, brother.’

And the rest of the morning in that room, packing and washing and preparing for our travels—not another word exchanged between us.

Chapter 42

The hand met me at the stable door.

‘How is he?’ I asked.

‘He slept well. Not sure how he’ll ride, but he’s doing better than I figured he might.’ He handed me a bottle of alcohol. ‘Twice a day,’ he said. ‘Morning and night, till you run out. Make sure you tie him to something when you do it. Just douse him and run, is my thought.’

‘Have you doused him today?’

‘No, and I do not plan to. I did it just the once to show you the way, but from here on, it’s all yours.’

Wanting to get it over with, I unstopped the bottle and took a step toward Tub when the hand said, ‘I wish you’d take him outside. I just barely got the first hole covered without him kicking a new one.’ He pointed and I saw his pitiable patch job, the damaged timber gone over with scraps. I led Tub out and tied him to a hitching post. His socket had crusted blood and pus around its rim, and without the eye to hold its form the lid sagged at its center. I poured in a good amount of the alcohol and stepped clear of him. ‘
Heee!’
said Tub, kicking and bucking and urinating and defecating. ‘Sorry,’ I said. ‘I’m sorry about that, Tub. Sorry, sorry.’ His discomfort passed and I retrieved the saddle from the stable. Charlie led Nimble out and stood beside Tub and I.

‘Ready?’ he said.

I did not answer but climbed onto Tub. His back and legs had more give than before, his muscles stringy with fatigue; also he was confused by the loss of half his sight, and he craned his neck to the left to see from his right eye. I backed him into the road and he walked in a tight, full circle, then another. ‘He is getting his bearings,’ I said.

‘It is wrong to ride him so soon,’ said Charlie, climbing on Nimble. ‘You can see he needs rest.’

I pulled hard on the reins and Tub ceased his spinning. ‘Let’s not pretend you care for his well-being all of a sudden.’

‘I don’t give a damn about the horse. I’m talking about what’s right for the job.’

‘Oh! Yes! Of course! The Job! I nearly forgot about it! Our preeminent purpose! Let’s talk about it some more! I will never tire of the subject so long as I am living!’

I found my lip was quivering; my feelings were so deeply injured that morning, looking at my brother on his fine, tall horse, and knowing he did not love me the way I had always loved and admired him and looked up to him; my lip quivered and I found myself shouting like this so that people walking past made comments and stared.

‘The Job! Yes! The Job! But of course that’s what you were referring to!’

Charlie’s eyes hooded with contempt, and shame enveloped me like a fever. Without a word he turned and rode off, cutting through the crowded streets and disappearing on the far side of a covered wagon. I scrambled to regain sight of him but Tub continued to crane his neck and walk sideways; I jabbed him with my heels and the pain righted him, but his breath was ragged as we ran, and my shame redoubled. I very much wanted to simply quit then, to stop and walk away from Tub, and from the job, and Charlie, to return on a new horse for my pile in Mayfield and construct a separate life, with the pale bookkeeper or without, just as long as everything was restful and easy and completely different from my present position in the world. This was my dream, and it was a powerful, vivid one, but I did nothing to enact it, and Tub continued his running and wheezing and I made it to the beach and rejoined Charlie, falling in beside him as we headed for the ferry landing. We passed the spot where the horse belonging to the man with the winch had died. The animal was partially skinned, with a good portion of its meat hacked away. Crows and gulls fought over what was left, hopping and pecking, the clammy flesh gone purple, the wind coating it in sand, and the flies insinuating themselves where they could. I felt San Francisco standing behind me but I never looked back, and I thought, I did not enjoy my time here.

Chapter 43

The ferry was a smaller-sized paddle wheeler called
Old Ulysses
that had a corral at its foremost end that housed horses alongside sheep and cows and pigs. Just as soon as Charlie tied off Nimble he left me; I did not follow after him but stayed behind to pet Tub and say sweet things to him, offering him comfort with my nearness and kindness, belated as it was. I had a plan to stay down there for the entire eight-hour voyage but the water was rough and the pigs became seasick (only the pigs became seasick), and I found it necessary to take in the air topside. I never once saw Charlie and nothing of consequence happened for the rest of the trip, except for this: I asked a woman if she had the time, and she looked me up and down and said, ‘I have no time to share with you,’ and walked away. I bought some mealy apples from a blind man and fed these to Tub as the boat was shoring up in Sacramento. His legs were trembling. It was late afternoon.

Charlie and I rode clear of civilization and entered into a forest of oak trees, dense and damp and impossible to navigate incautiously. It was slow going, made all the more so by the fact of our not speaking. I thought, I will not speak first. Then Charlie spoke first.

‘I would like to discuss our methods for dealing with Warm.’

‘All right,’ I said. ‘Let us cover the angles.’

‘That’s it. Starting with our employer. What might he want us to do?’

‘Kill Morris first, quickly, and without malice. From Warm, extract the formula, then kill him, also, but slowly.’

‘And what would we do with the formula?’

‘Return this to the Commodore.’

‘And what would he do with it?’

‘He would claim to be its author, and he would become ever more infamous and rich.’

‘And so the actual question is: Why are we doing this for him?’

‘But this is just what I have been getting at.’

‘I want to talk it through, Eli. Answer me, please.’

I said, ‘We are doing this for a wage, and out of your reverence for a powerful man whom you hope to one day usurp or somehow become.’

Charlie made a stretched-out face that said: I did not know you knew that. ‘All right. Let us assume that is true. Would it make sense then to empower the Commodore? To enable him in such a significant way?’

‘It would not make sense.’

‘No. Now, would it make sense for us to follow the Commodore’s instruction just shy of the last? Just shy of handing over the formula?’

‘To kill the two innocent men and steal their hard-won idea for ourselves?’

‘Morals come later. I asked if it would make sense.’

‘It would at least make sense, yes.’

‘Fine. Now, let us discuss the consequences of disobeying the Commodore.’

‘It would be unpleasant. I should think we would be hunted all our lives.’

‘Unless?’ he said, lips upturned. ‘Unless?’

‘Yes,’ I said. ‘We would have to kill him.’

‘Kill him how?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Lie in wait for him? Make it known we are after him? Go to war with his lieutenants? He has men in most every outpost and town, remember.’

‘No, the only way would be to get it over with right off. To head back just as if we were still working for him, then kill him in his house, and flee.’

‘Flee where? Who would come after us if the man himself was dead?’

‘I would be surprised if he did not have explicit orders to be carried out in case of untimely passing.’

Charlie nodded. ‘He absolutely does. He has spoken to me about it in the past. “If my blood is spilled prematurely, there will be an ocean of blood spilled in response to it.” So: How might this inform our plans?’

I said, ‘The only way would be to kill him in total secrecy.’

‘Total secrecy,’ Charlie agreed.

‘We would have to arrive under cover of night and shoot him as he sleeps. After this, run into the wild and hide away for many days, then return empty-handed, as though coming from San Francisco, claiming to have missed the formula, to have lost Morris and Warm. We would act very surprised when we learned of the Commodore’s death, and we would offer our services in tracking down and killing any of those possibly involved.’

‘That is all fine, except for the last part,’ he said. ‘If the Commodore is murdered, accusations will fly in every direction, and there will be a good deal of violence because of it. I would be surprised if we were not accused; and it would be suspicious if we in turn did not level accusations of our own. A lot of blood work then, and for what? When the man with the money is already gone?’

‘What is your thought, brother?’

‘What if the Commodore simply died in his sleep? A pillow over the face, is all.’

‘Yes,’ I said, ‘that’s the way. And we would have the formula, also.’

‘We would have it, but would not be able to use it for a time.’

‘We could live off the Mayfield stash, plus our savings.’

‘Or we could find a private river and work with the formula anonymously.’

‘It would be a difficult thing to keep hidden.’

‘Difficult but not impossible. We would likely have to bring a few more into the fold. I don’t know how Warm thinks he will be able to dam a river with just the two of them.’

‘Let us return to the moral question,’ I said.

‘The moral question,’ said Charlie. ‘Yes, let’s.’

‘I’ve never much liked Mr. Morris on a personal, man-to-man basis. Or should I say he has never much liked or respected us, which colors my feelings for him. But I will admit to having a certain respect for him.’

‘Yes, I feel the same way. He is honorable. Even with this abandonment of his post he is.’

‘He is that much more honorable because of it, is my way of seeing things. And as for Warm, I can’t help it. I admire him for his intelligence.’

‘Yes, yes.’

‘Well, I don’t know what else to say.’

‘You would rather not kill them.’

‘That’s what it is. I have been thinking about the last job, where we lost our horses. Do you recall those men we were up against? All they were after was blood and more blood, and it made no difference to them whose it was. They were living just to die. And our role was ironclad the moment we stepped onto their property.’

Charlie paused, remembering. ‘They were a rough bunch, it’s true.’

‘It felt right to me, because whether or not they had wronged the Commodore they were evil men, truly, and they would have killed us if we hadn’t moved first. But these two, Warm and Morris. It would be more like killing children or women.’

Charlie was quiet. He was thinking about the two futures, the immediate and the distant. I had more to tell him but did not interrupt, as I felt I had said enough to make my point clear. I was relieved we had had this talk, and that Charlie was not outwardly opposed to my way of thinking. I was also relieved the bad feelings from San Francisco were abating or had abated. But then we often came about our truces through this kind of clinical discussion.