Follow The Stone

  “Am I gonna die?” I said.

  “You would have died,” he said, “but I can fix this.”

  “How?”

  “We’ll have to take that arm off.”

  “You mean cut it off?”

  “I’m sorry,” he said.

  “Will it hurt?”

  “It will.”

  “Should I get drunk first?”

  He laughed. “There ain’t enough whiskey in Springfield to keep it from hurtin’, but if you get drunk enough to pass out, that’ll probably help. But I’ll need to strap you to my table before I start cuttin’.”

  Well, I was right upset about it, and figured if this was my last night to hold a drink in my right hand, I’d rather drink the best liquor in the state, and that type of spirits was located at Rose’s ranch. I showed up there and told her my story, and she shook her head.

  “Let me see that arm,” she said.

  She took one look at it and said, “It’s badly infected, and getting worse by the minute.”

  “Am I gonna die?” I said.

  “You would have died,” she said, “but I can fix this.”

  “You got a good saw?”

  “I don’t cut people’s arms off, Emmett.”

  She boiled some kind of birch bark in water and poked it awhile ’til the water turned brown. Then she made me drink it.

  “Damn, that tastes awful!” I shouted.

  “Would you rather have Doc Inman cut your arm off?”

  I sniffed the water.

  “I believe I might,” I said, but I was kiddin’.

  I drank the potion and immediately got the trots.

  She gave me more potion and I wound up with what Rose called an upset stomach. A better description is that she gave me the drizzlin’ shits.

  That night was rough, but two days later I felt like a new man. I couldn’t wait to try out my new arm, so I went to see Doc Inman. I lifted him off the ground with the same arm he was gonna cut off. Then I used it to drag him out to the water trough, and tossed him in it. When he come up, gaspin’ for air, I dunked him under again. I woulda done it again, and told him why, but then I remembered how Rose made me promise not to give her credit for fixin’ my arm.

  “Why not?” I said.

  “I don’t want the town folk to think I’m a witch,” she said.

  “You get that a lot?”

  “I used to. And it wasn’t much fun.”

  I promised her I wouldn’t tell anyone about her doctorin’, so I left that saw bones in the water trough and headed to the bar to test my hand at holdin’ a shot glass.

  Before you know it, Rose had me drinkin’ a cup of that brown water potion every time we took a trip. She said it would prevent my next infection before I get shot.

  “How do you know I’m gonna get shot?” I say.

  She doesn’t answer, just kisses my cheek and gives me a sad smile.

  I don’t like the taste of that birch water, but it don’t give me the shits anymore, so that’s a plus.

  So Rose is a great nurse. And, like I said before, she’s mighty good to look at. But good as she is at everythin’ else, the best thing about travelin’ with Rose is her cookin’.

  An hour into sundown that night, she’d made molasses corn bread and chuck wagon stew, and biscuits with scrapple gravy. She pan fried thin slices of pig fat in the gravy drippin’s, and it tasted good enough to make a jack rabbit slap a hound dog!

  That night, we had two fires goin’, about twenty feet apart. Phoebe, Rose and me were at one, and the rest of ’em were gathered around the other. We removed most of our valuables from the wagons, and placed them among us in piles.

  We made a box camp, meanin’ the two wagons were opposite each other, with our livestock on either side, formin’ a border for us and our fires. This type of setup helps to keep stray animals from wanderin’ into camp. The downside is, Indians have an easy time stealin’ from the wagons, which is why we unloaded our valuables in the first place.

  For awhile, Phoebe, Rose, and me didn’t talk much, content to listen to pieces of conversation passin’ between the whores and Hannah. Hannah still wasn’t smilin’, but we were pleased to see she’d begun talkin’ some, even though her comments weren’t optimistic yet. She never asked what happened to Joe and Clara, and best I could tell, seemed not to care.

  Every now and then Gentry looked over at me and we’d share a smile. After one such smile Rose said, “She makes you happy.”

  “She does.”

  “Just then when you smiled at her, you looked like you were thinking of something funny, but sad. Is it her poultice?

  “In a way,” I said.

  “Well, don’t worry about that, because her face is going to be stunning by Monday morning. You believe me, don’t you, Emmett?”

  “I do.”

  “Making Gentry beautiful is a gift I’m giving you.”

  “I’ve never had a problem with her complexion,” I said.

  “I know you haven’t.”

  “Then how is it a gift?”

  “You’ll see.”

  “When?”

  “When she’s beautiful, and still wants you.”

  Phoebe said, “Would you like me to leave so you two can talk?”

  “’Course not,” I said.

  “I wouldn’t want to intrude on your private thoughts,” she said.

  “They’re not partic’larly meant to be private.”

  Rose said, “What made you sad a moment ago, Emmett?”

  “This time next week we’ll be in Dodge City,” I said, “and I’ll have to leave her there to face a hard life. She’ll be fine and all with Mama Priss, ’specially after the poultice does its job. But I’m gonna miss her somethin’ terrible.”

  “You will?”

  “’Specially nights like this, when I’m sittin’ by a fire, all alone.”

  “You’ll think about this trip, and your thoughts will turn to Gentry. And you’ll wonder how she’s doing,” Rose said.

  “I will for a fact.”

  Phoebe said, “You’ve surprised me again, Emmett.”

  “How’s that?”

  “I hadn’t realized your feelings for Gentry were so sincere.”

  “Well, they are,” I said. “My feelin’s for her run deep.”

  She nodded slowly, then said, “I’m glad to hear that.”

  To Rose, she said, “There is a certain redeeming quality flitting about him that’s hard to pin down. But every now and then it shines through.”

  “Well, thank you,” I said.

  We sat quietly a moment, and then Phoebe said, “You told us what was sad about Gentry’s smile. What was the funny part?”

  I chuckled.

  “Please,” she said. “Tell me.”

  “I would, but I don’t want to make you mad.”

  “I promise I won’t get angry. Now please, tell me.”

  “Well,” I said, “Gentry’s sittin’ there by the fire, and her poultice is meltin’.”

  “Go on,” Phoebe said.

  “And I was lookin’ at it from a distance, and when she turns to the side, one cheek sort of looks like a stallion’s pecker.”

  Phoebe jumped to her feet and shouted, “For the love of God!”

  Then she stomped off to join the others.

  Rose shook her head and said, “Really, Emmett.”

  I said, “I think Phoebe just broke her promise.”

  28.

  “It’s about that time,” I said.

  “Please, Emmett,” Gentry murmured. “Just a few more minutes?”

  We were a quarter mile from camp, on my blanket, on trampled grass at the top of a steep hill. Dawn was breakin’, and the smell of Phoebe’s coffee had caught up to us. I’d grown rather fond of her sissy coffee of late, and that was just one of the things I was gonna miss about her when we got to Newton. Her odd way of payin’ a compliment and then gettin’ furious with me was another.

  “It’s nearly daybre
ak,” I said, “and we ain’t had breakfast. Then it’s an hour to Copper Lake, and when we get there, we’ve got six barrels to fill.”

  Gentry let out a yawn. “Can we just lie here a few minutes and talk?”

  I didn’t want to lie there and talk. The stink on her face made me want to gag. It was so vile I doubted my horse would take an apple from her mouth. I wondered how Gentry could stand it. She couldn’t have grown used to it. If it were me, I’d rather be pimply.

  “Can we, Emmett?”

  “Well, we spoke some last night,” I said.

  “Last night was more about ruttin’ than talkin’,” she said.

  “Well, it was good ruttin’.”

  “It was,” she agreed. “But sometimes a girl needs more from a man than an eager ruttin’ partner.”

  “That makes sense.”

  “So can we talk? Just a few minutes?”

  “Okay. But just a few minutes.”

  “Will you hold me first?”

  I put my arm under her head and winced, thinkin’ about her poulticed face bein’ up against my chest. At first, due to the smell, I hadn’t wanted to. But the way she settled into me, the top of her head was between my nose and her face, so the stink weren’t half as bad. I was so happy about it, I kissed her hair.

  “That was sweet of you, Emmett,” she said.

  “What would you like to talk about?” I said.

  “Well, is there anything you’d like to ask me? Anything at all?”

  I thought about it a minute.

  “There is one thing,” I said.

  “Good! That’s a start!”

  “It’s somethin’ I’ve been wonderin’ awhile.”

  “Well, ask it then,” she said.

  “Okay. What I was wonderin’ is, when you’re ruttin’ with cowboys and miners and such, what thoughts do you have?”

  “What?”

  “I was just wonderin’ what you think about while you’re bein’ fucked by all them men.”

  Gentry started to speak, then didn’t. After awhile she sighed, and said, “Well, I mostly just think about the two dollars I usually get to keep, and what it’ll buy. I sometimes wonder how much longer it’ll take him to finish, and I’m usually hopin’ he don’t hurt me when it’s over. I worry about the drunks and bullies and angry ones, and I wonder about those who are kind to me.”

  “You do? What do you wonder about them fellers?”

  “Some of the married men are surprisingly kind to me, and I sometimes wonder about their wives and children. I see them walkin’ to and from church together, headin’ to the hotel restaurant for a nice meal. I always wondered what it would be like to go for a stroll on a man’s arm.”

  “You never strolled through town with a man?”

  “Whores don’t stroll, Emmett. But I used to daydream about havin’ a fella that would be happy to take me for a stroll without expectin’ anything in return.”

  “Like the married men in Rolla?”

  “I sometimes wonder if they’re walkin’ with their wives through town, thinkin’ about me. I know a lot of them rut their wives, thinkin’ about me, ’cause they’ve said so.”

  “Don’t make it true,” I said.

  “No, it don’t,” she said. “But I think it’s true.”

  We were quiet a moment.

  “It’s probably true,” I said. Then added, “Do you ever worry that the money they’re payin’ you is takin’ food off their table, or medicine that could help their kids?”

  “No.”

  She answered so quick I figured she was through talkin’ on the subject. Below us, at the base of the hill, Rose had started fryin’ up a pan of bacon, which meant there’d be biscuits directly. Rose had a way of fryin’ biscuits in bacon grease that couldn’t be copied. Her bacon, mixed with the scent of Phoebe’s coffee, set my stomach to growlin’. But Gentry seemed not to care about breakfast. Lookin’ for subjects to talk about, I said, “Hannah seems to be openin’ up some.”

  “Poor child’s been through a lot,” Gentry said. “Even by our standards.”

  “She don’t seem to like me much,” I said.

  “Why, Emmett! That ain’t so!”

  “She shies away from me, and won’t look me in the eye.”

  “Well, that’s only natural.”

  “Why?”

  “You’re a man.”

  “So?”

  “Hannah’s had a rough go with men. She’s cautious, is all. ’Cause she don’t know you yet. But she knows you’re a good man.”

  “How does she know that?”

  “We’ve all told her so!”

  “Mary told her that?”

  Gentry laughed. “Well, no, not Mary. But Mary don’t like no one.”

  I’d pretty much run out of conversation. I could smell the biscuits on the fire, and wondered if they’d saved us any bacon. If we got up right then, we could have food on our plate in less than three minutes. I had to think of a way to get Gentry movin’ without actin’ like I didn’t want to cozy up to her.

  Then it hit me.

  “Rose will probably want to change your poultice after breakfast, won’t she?”

  Gentry sighed. “I’ll put you out of your misery, Emmett.”

  “What?”

  “I know you’re hungry. But can I ask you something before we head down the hill?”

  “Sure.”

  “Do you ever get tired of trail ridin’?”

  “Well, it gives me a place to go, and puts money in my pocket.”

  “True, but it’s dirty and dangerous, and the weather’s often terrible. And you pretty much spend the money you make by the time you’re done, don’t you?”

  “Pretty much.”

  “Have you never thought of settlin’ down someplace? You could be a sheriff or keep watch in a saloon or whorehouse.”

  Gentry had hit the nail on the head. I’d been thinkin’ long and hard about that very subject for quite some time, though it would involve an ownership position, ’stead of workin’ for someone else. Funny thing, if I decided to go through with it, I’d be settlin’ in Dodge City myself. What I had was more of an opportunity than a plan. But it required a bit more thought, and I could see no benefit in bringin’ it up this close to breakfast.

  “I’ve done law work before,” I said.

  “Did you enjoy it?”

  “Some parts of it.”

  “Like what?”

  “Well, if you have to kill a man, at least you don’t have to answer to the sheriff.”

  “Maybe you could find sheriff work someplace, get married, and have some kids. Would that sort of life suit you?”

  I laughed. “I doubt there’s many women linin’ up for the privilege of marryin’ the likes of me!”

  “Well, if such a line starts to form, I’ll take a spot right up front,” she said.

  “Well, that’s a fine thing to say, Gentry.”

  “It’s true, Emmett.”

  “I’m honored you feel that way,” I said.

  We lay there a minute, smellin’ the coffee, bacon and biscuits.

  “Will you think about me after you leave Dodge?” she said.

  “Of course I will.”

  “You promise?”

  “I’ll think about you all the time.”

  “I’ll think about you all the time, too.”

  “I’d like that,” I said.

  “And will you come see me when you pass through?”

  “If I got the cash I will.”

  “I wouldn’t charge you,” she said.

  “I’d like that even better,” I said.

  We probably would a’ laid there like that a few more minutes, but the sudden sound of Monique gettin’ murdered made us jump to our feet.

  “Stay here!” I shouted.

  Then I grabbed my rifle and went tearin’ down the hill.

  29.

  Jumpin’ up and runnin’ downhill like that will suck the breath out of you, and make your heartbeat
pound in your ears. Within seconds I had a pain in my side that made me gasp for air. The terrain was grassy, and thank God there weren’t much dew, ’cause if there had been, I’d a’ tumbled ass over ears all the way to the bottom, and broke my leg in the process.

  The trip down seemed to take forever. Although the grass was mostly dry, the ground beneath it was uneven, and littered with enough hidden rocks and prairie holes to be treacherous. I moved as fast as I could, hopin’ not to twist an ankle.

  As I got close to the camp I heard Rose shoutin’ at everyone to be quiet.

  A minute ago, lyin’ beside Gentry, I assumed it was Monique that was bein’ murdered, ’cause she’d hollered like a poisoned pig. But when I finally burst into the camp, my chest heavin’ and poundin’, I realized Monique wasn’t bein’ murdered at all.

  Scarlett was.

  30.

  The first thing I saw was somethin’ you don’t see too often in this part of the country. And when you do see one, it don’t look like this.

  A Texas Longhorn bull was pawin’ at the dirt on the wagon-rut trail just beyond camp, head lowered, ready to attack. Rose was approachin’ him slowly, tryin’ to talk him down. The whores were huddled up in the bed of the supply wagon, eyes fixed on Rose and the bull. Some covered their mouths with their hands, as if tryin’ not to cry out. Leah and Monique were clingin’ to each other like it was the end of days. Monique seemed grief-stricken, and Leah was tryin’ to console her, while bein’ as quiet as possible, so as not to spook the bull.

  Phoebe saw me enter the camp.

  I noticed the muddy mixture of dust and tears coverin’ her face. Our eyes met. She didn’t appear to be in shock, but she was displayin’ lots of emotions at the same time. She was horrified, of course, and frightened. And probably glad to see me.