The Two Devils (9 page)

Around five A.M., Paul showed up outside my window. We went for a ride. That helped clear my head. The sun came up and it was just another day. When we went back to the stable, I was putting up the saddle when I mentioned, “God says you're a magnificent horse."

Paul snorted, then shook his head up and down. Then he devoured a bag of oats. The proprietor of the livery stable arrived about then. “He get out again?"

I nodded. “Yep."

"Well, Mr. O'Malley, I can't figure out how he gets out."

"He always comes back,” I replied. “I guess it ain't worth worrying on."

"Still, folks pay us to keep their horses inside.” He looked at Paul. “Sure a fine looking horse.” Paul let out a snort and shook his head up and down. “Almost acts like he knows what I'm saying."

"Sometimes, it does seem that way. I best be heading for work. Come by, I'll give ya a haircut,” I offered.

"You at the Palace?"

"Yep. Palace Barbershop. That's us."

"I hear they got some guy in there that'll scalp ya and draw blood every time,” he declared. “I have the missus cut it every spring, when it gets warm."

I shook my head. “Not true.” I started for work. “I don't draw blood every time.” I still had not been fired, and I'd worked there an entire month.

I arrived promptly on time at the barbershop. A bunch of sailors were already lined up at the door. It was such a busy day, I was not able to daydream much about my experiences. That was probably just as well.

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Paul was missing again when I got off work. According to the livery stable people, he'd vanished just around lunchtime, without a trace. The saddle was still in his stall, so apparently no one had ridden him off. And I figured he had not meant for me to come along, or he'd have brought it with him. I felt God and the angels knew more about Paul than they were sharing with me, but I figured I'd find out, eventually. Whatever it was about him, he was the most independent horse I ever saw. So, if Paul decided to go off someplace, I wasn't really all that concerned about it. At least, not right at first.

Still, the livery folks were all worked up. They wanted me to go off with them and look for him. I told them I was just too beat. Sitting in a barber chair waiting for customers can really tire a man out. So, I headed home.

Ethel Browning quickly closed the French novel when she saw me coming through the front door. Those women could have kept the darned thing. I wasn't that interested in it. In light of my recent adventures, a trashy book just didn't seem all that important. She vanished into her room, leaving my book on the dining room table. I picked it up and took it back to my room, mainly because I was sick of seeing it lying around.

We had fried chicken for supper. Afterwards, while the others congregated in the parlor to butcher some piano tunes, I stretched out on my bed to relax. That tranquility did not last very long. There was a knock at my door. Reluctantly, I got up and answered it. “There's two ladies here to see you,” Mrs. Bunyan informed me.

The two ladies turned out to be Mabel and Janus, both dressed up in the finest fashions. Janus wore a very tight yellow dress, Mabel a low-cut blue one. Each had matching hats. “Miles, surely you forgot you were taking us for ice cream."

"Oh.” I meekly followed them out the front door. When we were far enough away, I asked, “Didn't think you liked mortals to see you."

"We thought we'd have a night out, Miles. It's no fun, being invisible,” Janus said. She meant if she was invisible, no one could admire her beauty, as I figure it. “And, this place down the street has ice cream."

"Yeah,” Mabel added. “This late in the year. Don't know where they got ice from."

"They got some new kind of ammonia machine. It makes things cold.

It's the latest thing,” I explained. “Stinks like heck out back. Sure you don't want to go to a saloon?"

"No,” Mabel said emphatically. “We can't get ice cream in hell."

"It's so cool and creamy,” Janus said as she licked her lips. “I can't wait."

And the little restaurant in front of the St. Charles Hotel did, indeed, have ice cream. We each got a glass bowl of it. The rich bouquet of vanilla bean gently wafted off it. It really was creamy and delicious.

"Ya know, if a woman wore this vanilla stuff on her neck, I think it would drive men wild, way more than perfume,” Mabel said.

"It might. Let's try some,” Janus agreed. “What do you think, Miles?"

She pressed her arm underneath my nose. She'd placed a few drops of the ice cream there.

"It's pretty good stuff.” She was right. It would drive me nuts. “You should send it in as a tip for those women's fashion magazines,” I suggested.

"We should,” Mabel agreed.

Janus frowned. “Nick will never let us."

I suggested, “Don't tell him."

"He'll find out,” she replied. “Always finds out everything."

Mabel had to wait to swallow her ice cream. “Always finds out everything."

"So, Miles, I hear you went up to Heaven,” Janus said.

"How'd you know that?” I asked.

"Word gets around.” She started licking the bowl. “I love this stuff. What'd you think of God?"

"Words don't describe God.” It was all I could think of to say. And it was true.

"I don't like God,” Mabel said. “He's so bossy."

"Boy howdy, ain't that the truth,” Janus agreed. “Always telling everybody what they should do, or yelling at them after they did it, like He knows everything."

"Did He warn you to stay away from us?” Mabel asked. “He hates us."

"You never came up,” I said.

They seemed disappointed.

"Let's go back to your place,” Janus suggested.

"I can't,” I reluctantly explained.

Mabel put her, now spotless, empty dish down on the table. “Why not? Afraid of that old lady?"

"My horse ran off. Gotta go look for him,” I explained. “I was just about to head out when you showed up at the house."

"Paul's run off?” Janus said. There was concern in her voice. “We'll help you look for him."

"I hope he's all right,” Mabel said. “We'll find him."

I was surprised. “Thanks.” I paid the check, and we headed for the livery stable. I would've preferred another horse. We ended up with a two-seats surrey pulled by two plow horses. The fellow said they weren't good for being ridden on. Apparently, there was a serious shortage of horses developing in the area.

Even though it was getting quite late in the evening, we headed out of town, taking a road that ran alongside the Sacramento River. Paul always tended to want to go this way when we went for a ride.

Lacking anything else to guide us, I figured we had to start somewhere.

There was no moon, as luck would have it. It soon grew so dark it was not really safe to keep traveling. I spotted a clearing that would make a good camp and suggested we stop.

We had not really prepared for camping, but I found a flint and some twine that would make kindling in a small box underneath the front seat of the surrey. I soon had a comfortable fire going.

Although it was summer, it was a bit chilly that evening close by the river. My two fallen angels did not act all that concerned with the night chill. By the time I'd gotten a respectable fire going, I noticed their dresses were neatly folded, and they were splashing in the water.

"Come on in, Miles,” Mabel invited. “The water doesn't stink or anything."

"Don't you just hate that,” Janus said as she playfully splashed Mabel.

"Miles, the water in hell really stinks. It all smells like sulfur. This is so great."

While I was tempted and eager to join them, I could hear that somebody was approaching our camp on horseback. “Rider coming,” I announced.

"They can't see us, Miles,” Janus pointed out. She was right about something else. It wasn't just one rider; it was “they.” Three riders, in fact, were galloping into our camp on horseback.

Almost as if I were invisible, one of the riders ordered his two cahoots, “Unharness the horses from that wagon."

"Those aren't yours,” I protested.

The bandit shrugged, then drew his revolver and aimed it at me. Mine was on the floor of the surrey. He cocked the hammer of an immense Colt and fired. Just an instant before the weapon discharged, a rock came out of nowhere and struck him, knocking off his aim. Then the rock bounced off his head and out in front of him at the precise moment the gun fired, the bullet struck the rock, sending the rock into my head and knocking me down.

Even though I was only stunned, I decided to stay down on the ground. There was nothing to be gained from getting up, except another bullet.

"Who threw that rock?” my assailant demanded.

I stayed still on the ground, confident they would never find the rock thrower. They soon had the horses and were gone. When they were out of sight, Mabel and Janus hurried to my side.

"Are you hurt, Miles?” Mabel asked me.

"Nothing serious.” I sat up. My head urged me to reconsider. “Pretty fancy rock throwing."

"They took the horses,” Janus said.

I noticed they were both fully dressed now. I slowly stood up. “And I'm missing a horse. I guess we'll have to follow them."

"Uh...” Janus looked over at Mabel, then back at me. “Miles, we have to be getting back to hell."

"And just leave me here?"

"Afraid so, Miles. Good luck.” Janus snapped her fingers, and they were both gone in a shower of golden and orange sparks.

"Dang it.” At least my gun was untouched. They'd completely ignored the stuff in the surrey. Horses seemed to be all they were interested in. I strapped on my weapon and started fumbling along in the dark, in the direction I'd seen them heading. I only landed on my noggin three or four times as I made my way down the road.

After an hour, or so, I stopped. There was a narrow side trail leading away from the river. It wasn't the trail itself that caught my attention, but something else. Large numbers of horses have a fragrance about them.

And somebody had a heck of a lot of them parked nearby. As I crept along, I noticed a small canyon only a few hundred yards or so on the side of a hill that was fenced off at its opening. A complex consisting of a row of about ten shacks and tent cabins was nearby. Two guards in gray uniforms, each one holding Winchesters, stood at each side. And there were lots and lots of horses penned up behind that fence; my initial guess was there were at least a thousand.

Then, I felt the unmistakable sensation of an icy cold steel gun barrel being pressed against the back of my neck. Adrenaline shot up my spine, but I remained absolutely frozen in place.

"Get up,” a man ordered in Spanish-accented English. He pulled me up by the collar of my shirt and pushed me forward. “Move it, gringo.” I did as instructed. My gun was yanked from my gun belt after I managed my first step forward. “Move it!” he repeated.

I was taken to the first cabin. It was dimly lit with a single coal oil lamp. A man sat behind a table, huddled over a ledger of some kind. He looked up at me with an annoyed expression. “Yes?"

"Found him snooping around outside,” my captor explained.

"Are you with the Secret Service?” he asked me.

"No,” I said.

The man returned to his ledger. “Then kill him."

My captor grabbed me by the collar and yanked me back outside.

"Why do you want to kill me?"

"Move it,” was his only reply. We went down to the massive horse corral, then up onto a wooden platform of some kind. At first I didn't understand what it was for, then I did, just as my escort gave me the flat side of his boot in my rear and sent me hurling down into the mass of horses. It really hurt when I hit ground, but nothing seemed broken.

"They'll trample you to death!” the fellow proclaimed.

But they did not trample me. In fact, a black stallion took a position over me, preventing any other horses from even getting close. I brushed myself off and climbed up on Paul's bare back. “Glad to see ya, buddy."

"You can't do that! Get off that horse,” the fellow screamed. “Get off that horse, now."

We trotted around the corral. Paul got a clear shot at the fence and charged straight at it. It was all I could do to hold on, but somehow I did.

We cleared the fence and came down outside with me barely hanging on.

Paul reversed himself and went back up to the fence. He looked over his shoulder at me. It took a moment, then I figured out what he wanted. I undid the latch and the gate swung open.

Paul didn't wait around, he headed straight for the cabin I'd just come from. He knocked the door right off its hinges with a single blow from one hoof, then we went inside. My gun belt was on top of a table. Paul went over to it, and I picked it up. The fellow at the ledger sat there, openmouthed.

"I'll be needing this,” I said as Paul trotted back outside.

The guards with the Winchesters were so confused they didn't seem to know what to do. The horses started running toward us, then Paul led them down the road and out into the river.

I relaxed a little when we were on the other side. The sun was coming up and I had a thousand horses and no idea of what to do with them. But, the men who took them were on the other side of the river.

Then, I started noticing how many of the animals were stamped ‘U. S.’ I'd always assumed they were stolen, I'd never realized from whom. I guess that was why the fellow wanted to know about the Secret Service. I only knew the term. It was some kind of outfit attached to the Treasury Department to arrest counterfeiters or something.

Paul took us to a barrack that I hadn't known existed. It was right across the river from town. The sentries apparently had not taken advantage of my barbering. “Uh ... good morning,” I greeted them.

"Dang,” the private said as he looked at all the horses. “Where'd you get them?"

"I was out with my horse. Someone robbed us and took my saddle.” That was a lie, but I wanted to distance myself from all this. “Anyway, to get away from them, we crossed the river. And, we found all these horses grazing bout four mile down that way.” I pointed over my shoulder with my thumb. “Back yonder."