Follow The Stone, Page 6

  Mary called out, “I shoulda known Miss Fancy Pants was too good to piss with the rest of us.”

  Leah hollered, “Tell us what her drawers look like, Scarlett!”

  “Probably got lace and gold dust wove into ’em,” someone said.

  Emma and Hester were gigglin’ and snickerin’ about somethin’ they’d said quietly to each other, and I thought, this is gonna be a long trip.

  13.

  The hammer of a .36 caliber Colt Revolvin’ Belt Pistol makes a unique sound when cocked.

  I heard that sound just before dawn, and had to force myself not to jerk up. I opened my eyes to find the shadowy outline of Ira Glass drawin’ a bead on me from point blank range. I had my derringer in my right hand under the blanket, as I always did when sleepin’, and my .44 Colt Army pistol beside my leg. But I’d have to cock it before firin’, and wouldn’t have time to do that if Ira fired first.

  “You don’t seem so high ’n mighty now, do you, Emmett Love?”

  “Maybe not to you,” I said. “Maybe not at this partic’lar moment.”

  “I could shoot you where you lie,” he said. “Just kill you right now.”

  “Why don’t you then?”

  “You don’t mean that.”

  “The hell I don’t. It’d save me havin’ to hear all your thoughts while you work up the courage.”

  “Shootin’ you would make me the most famous gunman in this part of the country. You know that?”

  “I’m much more famous out west. Why don’t you wait and shoot me there?”

  He started to speak, but died before the words got past his lips.

  “Mon Dieu!” Monique shrieked. “Putain qu’est-ce qui s’est passé?”

  I sat up and leaned over his body and felt for a pulse.

  “Ira caught a stray rock,” I said.

  “He what?” Gentry said.

  “A rock came flyin’ into camp and hit poor Ira in the head.”

  “Is he dead?”

  “Feels like it.”

  “I mean, does that happen often?” she said. “Are there likely to be more rocks flying into camp?”

  “Usually there’s just the one.”

  The women gathered close to me.

  “Do you think he would have shot you?” Emma said.

  “I do for a fact.”

  “Lucky that rock flew into camp, then,” Scarlett said.

  “What do we do now?” Phoebe said.

  I looked at the horizon. “There’s less than an hour before dawn. We should get what sleep we can.”

  I laid back down and closed my eyes, but no one else made a move for their bed rolls.

  “What about Ira?” Leah said.

  “Least he ain’t snorin’,” Scarlett said.

  “Well, I can’t sleep with a dead man in camp,” Gentry said.

  “I was stuck under a dead man for more’n a hour once,” Hester said.

  “You mean Mike Pike?” Mary said. “Big fat guy that died a couple years ago?”

  “Uh huh.”

  “I would’ve screamed,” Mary said.

  “You think I didn’t?” Hester said. “I screamed bloody murder.”

  “And no one came to help you?” Phoebe said.

  I sat up, surprised to hear her voice among the whores. Hester said, “No one came ’cause they thought I was pretendin’ to be in the throes of rapture.”

  “Helluva way to die,” I said.

  “Spoken like a man,” Hester said.

  Instead of sleepin’, we huddled together and talked. When it got light enough to see detail, I was mildly surprised to find two death wounds on Ira’s head.

  Phoebe pulled me away from the others and said, “Wayne did that?”

  “Yup.”

  “But how?”

  “I told you he’s an uncommon good rock chucker.”

  “You expect me to believe he hurled a large stone at this man’s head, in the dark, and hit it, and then threw another so quickly and accurately that he hit him a second time? Before Ira had time to fall down?”

  “Less you got a better explanation, that’s how I see it,” I said.

  “Well, that’s preposterous!” Phoebe exclaimed.

  “Is that some sort of fancy cuss word?”

  “No. But what Monique said earlier was reprehensible.”

  “Wait—you speak French?”

  “And Spanish, and Latin, if you care to know.”

  “Not many folks speak Latin around here,” I said.

  She paused. “Well, no, of course not.”

  “Maybe you can teach ’em to speak it in Newton,” I said, helpfully.

  She gave out a sigh of exasperation.

  “No one actually speaks Latin,” she said.

  “Oh. I thought you said you did.”

  She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “Let’s just forget the Latin part, shall we?”

  “Okay.”

  I saddled my horse. “Can I ask you about the French words Monique said?”

  “I’ll not repeat them, if that’s what you mean.”

  “No need. It’s just that those are the first words she spoke the whole trip that I could hear.”

  “So?”

  “I thought they sounded right beautiful.”

  “You would.”

  I put the rest of my gear on Major, slid my rifle into the scabbard, and looked around to see who needed the most help gettin’ ready. Turned out to be Phoebe. While I helped her saddle her horse, I said, “Would you ever consider speakin’ a few words of proper French to me?”

  “Perhaps I should. Then maybe you and Wayne could communicate.”

  “What?” I was thunderstruck. “You sayin’ Wayne—I mean, Shrug—speaks French?”

  Three feet away, a piece of rock exploded for no apparent reason. Then I heard the gunshot that caused it and realized we were bein’ attacked by Indians.

  14.

  “Jesus, wake the snakes!” Gentry shouted.

  “Nous allons tous mourir!” Monique screamed.

  “Stop screamin’!” I yelled.

  “Well, you’re screaming!” Emma shouted.

  Another bullet struck the dirt between Phoebe and me.

  “Light a shuck for that overhang!” I yelled. “When you get there, squat down and tuck in deep to give ’em a smaller target. If they start shootin’ from the other ridge, turn and run behind them rocks over yonder!”

  Another shot landed near Gentry’s horse.

  Scarlett!”

  “Yes sir?”

  “Help me get the horses under the trees. If they shoot our mounts, it’ll be a long walk to Springfield.”

  “Yes sir!”

  Five additional shots were fired as we got the horses under cover. I looked up to the crest of the western ridge and spotted four braves, and guessed there were probably a few more dug in among the crags and crevices.

  “Scarlett, you’d best stay here,” I said. “I’ll draw their attention.”

  “I’ll come with you, Emmett, if you need help.”

  I looked at the big-boned gal with the heart of gold who made her livin’ by pleasurin’ men, who, hours ago, had escorted Phoebe behind the rocks so she could piss proper. Now, here she was, offerin’ to risk her life against maraudin’ Indians.

  “Scarlett,” I said, “you’re a helluva useful woman to have around.”

  “Thanks, Emmett.”

  A couple more shots hit the rocks around us. Scarlett was plenty scared, but fightin’ to look brave. This was the type of woman that could help tame a rugged land.

  “You’re gonna make some lucky man a good wife,” I said.

  “Yippee,” she said, without much enthusiasm.

  She and I were with the horses on the east end of the camp, under a canopy of trees. The others were huddled under the overhang on the west end of camp, directly below the Indians. The open area between us measured about thirty yards. No one had been hit. Yet.

  “Where’s Wayne?”
Phoebe shouted from her hidin’ place on the other side of camp.

  “Who’s Wayne?” Gentry hollered.

  “Shrug can’t be everywhere at the same time,” I shouted. This is our party. Now hobble your lips, and don’t distract me!”

  I climbed on Major’s back and pulled my Henry from the scabbard.

  “Where are you going?” Leah wailed. “Don’t you dare leave us!”

  “Shut up!” I yelled.

  I’d told ’em time and again I didn’t want the Indians to know I was travelin’ with eight women. Now their screamin’ had ruined that.

  Three more shots peppered the rocks around me. With rifle in hand, I spread my arms wide apart and shouted, “Fox Indians are weak! Their women have pox! They fornicate with dogs!”

  Nothin’.

  I went all in with the biggest insult possible: “Fox warriors clean the camp and take care of the children!”

  Four Indians jumped to their feet, screamin’ furiously, and I shot three of ’em. Then I shouted, “This is a forty-four caliber Henry Repeatin’ Rifle. A resolute man, armed with one a’ these, partic’larly on horseback, cannot be captured!”

  They had no idea what I was talkin’ about, but I’d read them words on the hand bill advertisin’ the Henry Repeatin’ Rifle, and liked the way they sounded.

  “Look!” I shouted at the Indians. “I’m fearless. Shoot me! Do your best, but know I cannot be killed!”

  There was no movement from the rocks, just the cries of two gut-shot Fox Indians bleedin’ out. The third was either unconscious or dead. I heard some of ’em scramblin’ about, attemptin’ to transport the dyin’ men without becomin’ targets themselves.

  “Go back to Iowa!” I shouted. “And take your dead with you!”

  Their blood-curdlin’ death sounds had reduced to moanin’, but I continued shoutin’ threats and oaths ’til I heard Shrug’s whistle, tellin’ me the danger had passed.

  “You can come out now,” I said to the women. “I’m sorry for yellin’ at you.”

  “That was the bravest thing I ever seen!” Gentry cooed.

  Scarlett noticed the way Gentry was eyeballin’ me, and whispered, “Looks like you hooked one. But be careful reelin’ her in tonight. She’s a famous screamer.”

  The whores gathered round me and Major and expressed their gratitude. Phoebe held off expressin’ her opinion ’til I’d buried Ira and gotten us miles away from the Indian attack.

  “That was the most irresponsible behavior I have ever witnessed,” she said. “You were daring those Indians to shoot you. And what if they had? Where would we be then? What would have become of us?”

  “Why, Shrug would’ve taken you to Springfield,” I said.

  “It was a foolish, ill-thought thing to do.”

  “The others thought I was brave.”

  “You were foolish. You showed bad judgment, and could’ve been killed.”

  I laughed.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “Them Indians couldn’t have shot me, ’cept by accident.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Indians can’t shoot for shit. Pardon the expression.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “They were usin’ old muzzleloaders and single-shot rifles.”

  “I still don’t understand.”

  “Their guns ain’t accurate at that distance. They were shootin’ straight out, hopin’ the bullets would fall on our heads. They got no skill.”

  “How can that be true?”

  “Well, they don’t get much practice.”

  “Why not?”

  “Ain’t got bullets enough to practice. And even if they did, they got no tools to keep their guns oiled and cleaned. I’m surprised their rifles didn’t blow up in their faces today.”

  I turned to glance at Phoebe and saw her face turnin’ red.

  “What?” I said.

  She gestured behind her. “You accepted the women’s accolades and pronouncements of bravery and gave them no accounting of the true nature of the events. Same as you did with the fish Wayne gave you yesterday. You’re trying to falsely impress us, Emmett Love, and sadly, it seems to be working with the others.”

  “But not you.”

  “Of course not. I can spot counterfeit courage a mile away.”

  “Of course you can.”

  “But some cannot, especially the younger girls among us. And you’re leading them to believe you’re courageous and capable, when you’re not.”

  “Well, I did happen to shoot three Indians.”

  “So?”

  “Three hits in three seconds from low ground to high, sixty yards, on a skittish horse…”

  “Your point, sir?”

  “Some folks might be inclined to call that a right capable display of marksmanship.”

  “Oh, pooh!”

  “Pooh?”

  “You couldn’t kill a rabbit last week with twenty minutes and a rifle. Wayne killed three with rocks. And yesterday Wayne had to catch your breakfast, and last night he saved your life. Had Wayne not intervened with Ira, you’d be dead today.”

  “So?”

  “You’re enjoying all the glory, and no one even knows about poor Wayne.”

  “Well, you do.”

  “That’s right. And you should be ashamed.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “You’ve got these women cow-eyed and swooning over you. They’re starting to think of you in heroic terms.”

  “What’s wrong with that?”

  “It’s fraud.”

  I said, “Are you upset that Wayne wasn’t there when the shootin’ started?”

  “I’m nothing of the sort. I’m sure he was tackling something much more dangerous.”

  “Uh huh.”

  “He rightfully assumed that even a person with your limited skills could vanquish a handful of teenage Indians with inadequate weaponry.”

  “And he speaks French, too,” I said.

  “He does. And beautifully, I might add.”

  I was riding in front of her, so she couldn’t see me smile.

  “Are you smiling?” Phoebe said.

  I chose not to answer her.

  “Are you smiling?” she repeated.

  The sky overhead was clear and crisp, and Shrug was leadin’ us away from the Indians I hadn’t killed. We crested a flat-topped mountain and stopped to rest our horses. Those who needed to shit, did so behind rocks. The others squatted and pissed in plain view, which vexed Phoebe visibly.

  “Monique,” she said. “Allez-vous m’escorter aux rochers?”

  “Chier ou pisser, Mademoiselle?”

  “Je préfèrerais que le monde entier ne sache pas quelles sont mes affaires derrière les rochers, si vous n’avez pas d’objection."

  Monique and Scarlett laughed at whatever Phoebe had said, but Monique went with her behind the rocks.

  While waitin’ for ’em, I brushed a spider off my pant leg and took a moment to observe the natural order of things around me. I looked up and saw a hawk glidin’ silently through the air toward a rock formation, some sixty yards distant. I followed its line of sight, and spotted a squirrel runnin’ full speed along a ledge, headin’ for a stand of bull pines. The hawk circled once, then swooped down and made off with its prize.

  The squirrel never knew what hit it.

  15.

  After the rest stop I led the ladies to a muddy creek, and sighed, knowin’ what to expect. For the women, this was usually the hardest part of the journey.

  “I ain’t fillin’ my canteen with that shit water,” Mary said.

  “No one’s askin’ you to,” I said.

  “Then why are we stoppin’?”

  “Dismount.”

  “Qu’est-ce que ce fou à en vu pour nous maintenant?” Monique said.

  Scarlett said, “Je ne sais pas. Il ne l’a pas dit.”

  “Climb down from your horses,” I said.

  “Why?” Leah said.

&n
bsp; “We’re gonna mud the scent off you.”

  “What?”

  “I told you this back at Lick and Casey’s.”

  “Well, you didn’t tell me!” Phoebe said.

  “Get your asses in the mud,” I said. “All of you.”

  “I’ll not do it,” Phoebe said. “Not willingly.”

  I hoisted her on my shoulder and tossed her in the mud puddle and rolled her around ’til her hair, face, and clothin’ were a muddy mess. She sputtered and spit, and slapped me when she could, but to her credit, she never cussed.

  “Anyone else need a hand?” I said.

  “What’s the purpose of this?” Scarlett said.

  “Yonder’s bear country. This mud’ll get the female scent off you.”

  “I ain’t afraid,” Hester said. “I’ve fucked a few bears in my time.”

  “Not like these,” I said. “Look ladies, it’s just mud. If it keeps you alive, what do you care? Just give me a chance to get you through this wild part of the country. You can wash your hair and clothes when we get to the White River.”

  “Where’s that?” Gentry said.

  “Twelve miles outta Springfield. We’re campin’ there tonight.”

  “You gonna talk more fish into the fryin’ pan?” Gentry said.

  “We’ll see. In the meantime, get in the mud.”

  “With pleasure!” Gentry said.

  She ran to the mud puddle full speed and dove into it on her stomach and slid nearly twenty feet. The others thought that looked like fun, so they joined in. Before long they were laughin’ and rollin’ around in the mud, and slappin’ pads of it in each other’s hair. It was such a comical scene, even Phoebe was smilin’.

  Then Gentry said, “What about you, Emmett?”

  Before I could protest or get away, all the whores squealed and ran toward me and dragged me into the puddle. They pushed and poked and rolled me around, and slapped my face with mud cakes, and laughed and giggled. But when it suddenly grew quiet, I noticed it was Gentry layin’ on top of me, kissin’ my cheeks and mouth.

  The others backed away, silently.

  “I like you, Emmett,” Gentry said.

  “I’m honored,” I said. “But right now we need to get through some rough country.”

  “Maybe we can get together tonight,” she said. “After we bathe in the White River?”