Chapter Seven

 

They camped out on the open prairie that night.

Nosey had brought his own pony along and the horse and mules were fed and then hobbled over by the buckboard whilst Diehard cooked them a meal over a small campfire. The two ate their food in silence and settled down around the fire afterwards.

‘I see them beads hanging round your neck, Diehard. You a Christian fellow?’

‘My ma brought me up in the Roman way. She’s kinda religious.’

Nosey hummed thoughtfully, ‘Never had such an education like that myself. It make you feel better, all that praying and such?’

Diehard snuffled a laugh, ‘Not so you’d notice but I guess its good to know there’s something better waiting down the road.’

‘You believe that? All that heaven and hell stuff.’

‘I guess.’

‘Well, I sure seen enough devils already,’ chuckled Nosey. ‘Maybe I spotted a few angels as well along the way.’

He took out a tobacco sack and rolled himself a spill, ‘Yessir, I raised me some hell in my younger days so I reckon it don’t look too good for me when my time comes.’

‘How many years you got on you, Nosey?’

Nosey stared skywards for a while as he estimated, ‘Don’t rightly know for sure but I done time in the army back in the war. I was a sight younger then, so maybe thirty something now could even be forty years old. Never did keep count.’

‘Did you go through the whole war?’

‘Nah, I joined up towards the end, must have been early in ‘64. Saw enough battles in Virginny to make me shy of such things forever more. It got me to wandering afterwards, that kind of killing does you no good and I had to clear my brain of it, that’s why I took up with the cowboying.’

‘That when you saw your angels?’

Nosey chuckled dryly and lit his cigarette, puffing contentedly. His face took on a Puckish look, the large nose and big ears creating the appearance of an imp in the firelight. ‘That was the time, indeed it was, why I reckon I seen the inside of every cat house they got from here to the Mexically border.’

‘You like that? The whoring, it never was my kind of thing.’

‘No?’ Nosey asked in surprise. ‘You got a wife at home then?’

‘No, sir, not yet. Maybe I got me a girl though?’

‘Is that so? Pretty is she?’

‘Sure is, sweetest thing. Like a clear day after a rain shower when the whole world smells fresh. I think I aim to marry that lady when I’m done with this.’

‘So, let me get this straight, Diehard. You is planning to marry this gal and you’ve never been with an all-night woman yet?’

Diehard lowered his head and stared into the firelight unsure of how he should feel at such a direct personal question.

‘I guess not,’ he admitted finally.

‘Never seen a full on naked woman?’

‘No, sir. Not since I was a kid and swum in the creek back home with the other kids.’

‘Phoowee! You needs an education, boy.’

Nosey rolled over and drew his saddlebags towards him. He delved inside the bags and drew out a small package wrapped in an oilcloth rag.

‘Now this here,’ he said, handing the pack across to Diehard. ‘This here is where your education begins.’

Carefully, Diehard unwrapped the parcel. Inside he found a stack of card-backed photographs that consisted of a collection of well-thumbed prints, all of them favoring risqué ladies of the night. Mostly the figures were partially clothed, some with feathered hats and pearl necklaces and little else but smiles for the camera. The women were generously endowed both above and below the waistline with their middles tucked in under ridiculously tight corsets that pushed up plump bosoms and exposed bare shoulders. Patterned stockings supported by extravagant lace garters covered high-kicking and sturdy legs. Collectively, they lounged provocatively on cushions and chairs against backdrops of potted plants and hanging curtains.

‘There,’ grinned Nosey. ‘You ever seen the like? Them’s what keeps me company many a cold night on the prairie. Leastways until I can find the real thing.’

Diehard studied them closely by the flickering light of the fire. ‘These here ladies let them take these pictures in their underwear and they don’t mind?’

‘I guess not, they’s all smiling ain’t they?’

One picture particularly caught his eye. It was of a slender dark haired girl that had more than a passing resemblance to Aileen. She was naked and stretched in an artistic pose clasping a dangling black mantilla in one hand as if she had just cast it off.

‘My, my,’ muttered Diehard, his mind’s eye casting Aileen’s face on the model. ‘She sure looks a winner.’

‘Perhaps that’s what you has waiting for you,’ promised a grinning Nosey.

A moment of guilt crossed Diehard’s mind and he quickly pressed the stack of cards back in Nosey’s hand.

‘What’s wrong?’ frowned his companion.

‘It don’t feel right, looking at them gals in nothing more than their birthday suits.’

‘Ach!’ spat Nosey. ‘It’s as right as looking at a pretty sunset. Things of beauty these is; a delight to the eye. No need to feel shamed by looking on them. It ain’t like you caught a real body in its natural state is it? These is just pictures, that’s all.’

‘I don’t know,’ mumbled Diehard, who had certainly never seen the like before. Somehow though he did not feel that the images matched up to how he felt about Aileen. She did not fit into any display of female charms in such a manner to his way of thinking. Yet even though he held her above such notions, still that stylistic image of the girl with the shawl would not leave his mind and he wondered how it would be to hold Aileen close in such a state.

‘You do know how to do it, don’t you?’ asked a concerned Nosey. ‘I mean, you got the basics.’

Diehard snuffled a laugh to cover his embarrassment, ‘Sure I do, I been in enough bunkhouses and heard enough raunchy talk to get the picture.’

‘Well, thank God for that. I was beginning to think I’d have to fill you in on all the intimate details as well.’

‘No, there’s no need,’ Diehard lied, still secretly worrying that his ineptness would prove to be a problem at some later date.

Nosey re-wrapped his bundle and tossed his cigarette butt into the fire, ‘With that in mind, I guess we’d better turn in.’ He chuckled evilly and winked at Diehard across the flames.

‘Yeah, night to you,’ murmured Diehard; fervently hoping he would rest without the erotic imagery of a naked Aileen stretching herself invitingly over him. But he hoped in vain as he snuggled into his bedroll and guilt came to haunt him long into the night. It was only when he clutched his mother’s rosary in his fist and felt the hard edges of the cross pressing into his palm that he swore that he would treat Aileen in a respectful manner and hold her above such thoughts. With that in mind he finally managed to sleep.

 

By mid-morning of the second day, underneath a high solemn marker of slowly circling turkey buzzards they came across the graves.

Three of them, two adults and one child going by the size. A neatly made brushwood cross marked each but the desert predators had already been at work. Without any stone cairn or wooden box to cover the dead the coyotes and foxes had burrowed into the soft sand and had their fill. The remains of their feast lay in scattered strings of chewed meat and gnawed bones amongst the disturbed earth.

‘Didn’t make too good a burying job of that, did they?’ Nosey observed.

‘Wagon train,’ said Diehard, following the long train of wheel grooves as they rolled off into the distance. ‘And all this is pretty fresh. Maybe them pilgrims didn’t know no better than to lay a body under soft soil.’

‘Too bad, how d’you think these’n died?’

‘Impossible to tell now they been ripped up like that. Looks like a couple; man, woman and kid.’

‘One family, maybe….’

Nosey paused, drawing himself erect and scanning the horizon as something caught his attention in the distance.

‘What is it?’ asked Diehard, noting his partner’s sudden alertness.

Nosey pointed with his chin, ‘We got company.’

Both men reached for their weapons as the distant form closed on them, the heat waves distorting the shivering image as it raced nearer.

‘You make it out?’ asked Nosey. ‘Looks like a single rider to me.’

Diehard squinted, ‘It’s a horse alright but it ain’t got no rider. Lord Almighty! You see that, Nosey? I do believe it’s the white mare coming at us.’

‘Hellfire!’ gasped Nosey. ‘You’re right, will you look at that?’

The white mare came on at the gallop as it spotted them and pulled to a stop some feet away, twisting and turning in the dust as if to display its magnificence in a show of equine vanity.

Diehard crossed over slowly and spoke low to the animal, ‘Here you are, you pretty thing. I do believe you come looking for us.’ He stroked the horse until it bowed its head and nuzzled against him.

‘How did that happen do you think?’ asked Nosey.

‘It was the Chinaman, Mister Chin, he come up at me and confided some strange things before we left. I think he meant to tell me about this.’

‘The Chinaman let her loose?’

Diehard shook his head, ‘I don’t know, he said something about some wizardry involved. Said the horse never would take a liking to Beauregard, he would see to it.’

‘Ain’t no magic there, nobody likes Beauregard.’

‘That’s a fact,’ laughed Diehard. ‘What do you think? Shall we keep her?’

Nosey mocked him by shaking his head in stern reprimand, ‘No, sir. You being a good Christian and all, I think you should return that pony this instant. Go on, get along back to that nice railway man and return that horse, it’s only two days back and I’m sure he’ll appreciate all your effort.’

Diehard got the message and smiled at the wrangler, ‘I guess I ain’t such a good Christian after all. Tie her on back of the buckboard whilst I take a closer look at these wagon tracks.’

Diehard scouted around both sides of the tracks and followed the trail out for a few hundred yards, ‘I see pony tracks,’ he called back to Nosey. ‘Look like unshod, maybe they’re mine. Let’s catch up with this train they can’t be far ahead.’

‘Okay,’ said Nosey, geeing up the mules. ‘Long as they ain’t Indian ponies.’

‘You know if that party of Apache off the San Carlos is still raiding?’ frowned Diehard, remembering his strange confrontation with the Apache chief Angelino.

‘That’s the word back at the railroad camp, they ain’t caught them yet. Though I did hear that a special patrol out of the post station at Allen’s Cross is on the hunt after them.’

Diehard studied the tracks more carefully, ‘No,’ he said confidently. ‘These ain’t Indian, they run alongside and the wheels cross over at places. These ponies are travelling with the train.’

‘Good to know,’ said Nosey, slowing the mules so that Diehard could climb aboard.

 

They caught up with the train as the company were bedding down for the night. The Conestoga’s were circled and fires alight, the dusky air heavy with the scent of fire smoke and an evening meal being prepared. There were twenty covered wagons gathered and to one side in a shallow draw both oxen and ponies were bivouacked watched over by some small boys.

The buckboard was spotted from half a mile out and by the time they arrived a crowd of men armed with Springfield rifles stood ready to meet them. Despite their initial warlike appearance the band of men proved to be a homely bunch and were only being cautious and not aggressive in their intentions.

‘Evening!’ called Diehard. ‘Mind if we come in?’

‘If you are good God-fearing people then enter and welcome,’ came the answer from a tall fellow in a wide brimmed prairie hat and long dress coat. He was a sober looking, and lantern-jawed somber faced individual with sunken cheeks and deep-set eyes and he came up to the buckboard to shake their hands. ‘Step down and join us for supper,’ he said, his eyes sharp and alert under the hat. Diehard noted his quick perusal of the wagon bed and ponies tied at the rear. The rest of the men joined him, their curiosity roused and they jostled against each other in their eagerness to meet the new arrivals.

‘Obliged to you,’ said Diehard after he had introduced them both.

‘I am Captain Hope Henfield, elder and leader of this brotherhood.’

‘Howdy to all,’ said Nosey and the rest of the group responded with ready greetings. ‘You folks heading for the California’s?’

‘That we are, friend,’ intoned Henfield, in a preacherly manner. ‘The Lord has called us and we follow his direction. We are of the Redeemed Church of the Holy Cross and are intent on building a new city of worship in the far west. It is a divine mission and our calling is most noble and guided by the hand of the lord God Almighty.’

‘Sure sounds it, Preacher,’ Nosey allowed.

‘Mind if we leave our animals alongside yours?’ Diehard asked.

‘You are most welcome,’ said Henfield, opening his arms invitingly. ‘When your beasts are fed and watered, join us at the campfire and after blessing we shall receive nourishment.’

They took their animals over to the remuda and as Diehard brushed down the white mare and Nosey saw to his own horse and the mules, the pair heard the distant congregation beginning to sing a hymn. The sound was gentle in the evening air and the chorused voices brought a sense of companionable peace across the camp.

‘You sure landed on your feet,’ teased Nosey at sound of the singing. ‘Be right at home here with all these Bible punchers.’

Diehard sniffed, ‘Leave it off, Nosey. These folks are of a different persuasion, I don’t think they care for the Roman sort.’

‘War amongst the elect?’ joked Nosey. ‘Whatever next?’

‘Be my personal opinion,’ said Diehard, with an air of austere wisdom, as he worked on the glossy hide of the mare. ‘That it’s the people that makes up the fellowship of any church and they is as diverse and opinionated as the stars that populate the heavens. T’ain’t the religion that makes the people, it’s the people following their interpretation that does it.’

‘Hell! You sure make it all sound complicated, Diehard. Let’s leave off with all the ponderous thoughts and go get us fed shall we?’

The two men strolled across and joined the gathering that was queuing to receive ladles of food from a great cauldron hanging over the cook fire.

‘Brother Diehard and Brother Nosey, come forward,’ said Henfield ushering them to the head of the queue.

‘Oh, we can wait our place, thank you, Reverend,’ said Diehard, heading for the end of the line.

‘A man of patience and manners, how he shines in the light of the Lord,’ smiled Henfield benignly.

Nosey was not so gratified, and his whisper was loaded with accusation, ‘Dang it, Diehard. Hope we ain’t getting leavings and there’s still some vittles left by the time we get there.’

On receiving a few healthy ladles of stew in his dish Nosey was placated and they both took up a place at the fringes of the gathering, sitting against a wagon wheel and tucking in hungrily.

‘Worth waiting for, huh, Nosey?’ said Diehard around a mouthful of meat.

‘Sure is,’ agreed the wrangler.

‘You have come far?’ asked a neighborly matron wearing a scooped bonnet as big as a coalscuttle and sitting nearby alongside her husband.

‘Quite a-ways, ma’am,’ Diehard allowed. ‘Looking for some lost horses of mine.’

‘Indeed,’ she said, her rosy cheeks dimpled as she smiled. ‘Perhaps you should have word with the two horsemen who joined our party a while back, they travel with a spare pony.’

Diehard lowered his spoon, the muscles in his back tightening as he stared across at the woman, ‘And who might these men be, ma’am?’

‘Brother Carter and Brother Betterman, both gentle souls who have taken up with us.’

‘Where are they now?’ asked Diehard coldly, setting down his dish and casting a quick glance at Nosey.

‘I believe they are out on the hunt. Very fine hunters they are too. This meat we eat is thanks to them. And what a blessing it is too, we were reduced to little more than beans and hard tack biscuits before those gentlemen came along.’

‘You hear that, Nosey? Brother Carter and Brother Betterman.’

‘You know them perhaps?’ asked the woman’s husband, sitting alongside and picking up on Diehard’s tone.

‘Indeed I do, sir. I never knew a bolder pair of scoundrels in my life.’

‘Oh, Lord! Surely not,’ squawked the woman. ‘I assure you they have been most generous and Christian whilst with us.’

‘But not to me, ma’am. Beat me and left me for dead in the desert and stole all I owned including my horses. That there white mare is one of them.’

‘I shall report this to Captain Henfield,’ said the alarmed husband, and without further ado he jumped to his feet and scurried off.

‘I find this most difficult to believe,’ said the woman mournfully. ‘Perhaps you are mistaken?’

‘No, ma’am. My ribs still ache from the beating they gave.’

‘Oh,’ she wailed in a quivering voice. ‘I fear this will not go well, Brother Diehard. I do hope you are not a man of violence and ill will.’

‘If I get what is mine and am allowed my way in peace there shall be no violence on my part,’ Diehard promised. As he said it, he caught Nosey’s movement from the corner of his eye as the wrangler surreptitiously checked the chamber load on his pistol.

‘You reckon it will go down as easy as all that?’ Nosey whispered doubtfully.

Diehard shook his head but said nothing.

At that moment the husband accompanied by Captain Henfield came hurrying over.

‘What is this, Brother Diehard? Can it be true what you say? The two men you speak of have been nothing but kindly towards us.’

‘Do they have with them a dappled and two bay mares, all fine animals and fit for higher station than a plough?’

‘They do ride such a pair of animals and own another,’ Henfield allowed. ‘You say these animals are yours?’

Diehard realized he must not have noticed the third animal amongst the remuda of wagon ponies.

‘They took five in all,’ said Diehard. ‘Beat me near to death and took all I possessed, except for that fine white mare I have now returned to me.’

‘Lord have mercy,’ breathed Henfield. ‘This is most shocking news.’

‘They’re coming, Captain,’ interrupted the woman’s husband. ‘Look here it’s Carter and Betterman.’

The two riders, silhouetted by the setting sun, entered the ring of wagons and Diehard immediately recognized his horses. He got to his feet slowly and Nosey joined him.

‘Step away, Nosey,’ said Diehard. ‘This is my fight.’

‘I’ll stand with you, partner. There’s two of them and two-to-two makes it fair fight.’

‘No! No!’ cried Henfield, coming between them. ‘I cannot allow this. We are under God’s eyes here and under His service, this is a peaceful camp.’

‘Step aside, Preacher,’ warned Nosey grimly.

Carter and Betterman had pulled up and still mounted they were looking over at the disturbance. Carter held the carcass of a mule deer across his saddle and he let go of the animal allowing it to slump to the ground in a puff of dust.

‘What’s wrong, Captain?’ called Carter. ‘You have a problem?’

‘You recognize me, Aaron Carter?’ called Diehard before Henfield could make any answer.

‘No, sir. Can’t say I do,’ said Carter, squinting in the coming darkness.

‘Should do, you’re riding my horse.’

Betterman spat a low curse as he picked up on their accuser and he moved the bay to one side away from Carter.

‘Best stay where you are, Lorn,’ warned Diehard.

‘Now steady, gentlemen, steady,’ cried Henfield, flapping his hands desperately and spinning on the spot, turning from one duo to the other. ‘I pray you, we have women and children here.’

The congregation had backed away fearfully to the wagon ring and they peered nervously at the confrontation. The women cowered behind the wagon tongues and clutched their children to them whilst their menfolk stood protectively in front. Desperately, Henfield dithered in the open ground between the two parties, swinging this way and that in consternation.

‘In God’s name….’ he called, his voice choking off in mid-sentence.

Carter raised his hands above his head, ‘See here, Preacher,’ he called. ‘I hold no weapon and make no move to cause harm.’

‘Best you get off my horse, Carter,’ warned Diehard.

‘This ain’t your horse, I paid a fair price for this animal and have the paper to prove it.’

‘Sure you do, carefully hand written by yourself, I’ve no doubt.’

‘Captain, Captain,’ pleaded Carter in a hurt tone. ‘You see how it is? We are beset by a lying vagabond. I pray you people will protect us from this downright villain.’

‘Get down,’ growled Diehard. ‘Before I drag you down myself.’

‘I’m going, I’m going,’ whined Carter, feigning intimidation. ‘Don’t shoot, I beg of you.’

Carefully, Diehard kept his eyes fixed on Carter, trusting that Nosey was doing the same with Lorn Betterman. He watched the rustler draw back his long buckskin coat and swing his leg over the saddle. Diehard knew that as the man moved out of sight in the dismounting, that was when he would make his play.

With a smack, Carter laid the flat of his hand across the dappled mare’s rump and drove it away. At the same time, he came around from behind the horse’s tail, pistol in his hand. With his expectations already roused, Diehard went for his Schofield fast.

As the dappled mare skittered away, Lorn’s bay jumped and stepped sideways, Nosey tracking the rider as he went.

Then the shooting started.

With Henfield dancing about between them it was hard for either party to get a clear shot and Carter’s first bullet caught the supper cauldron and with a sound like a church bell ringing the spent bullet winged off the metal and into the sky. Aiming to miss Henfield, Diehard fired across the preacher’s shoulder the slug riding high and passing over Carter’s head.

Simultaneously, Betterman struggled with his rearing bay and loosed off wildly at the two cowboys. Nosey firing in answer spun the hat from Betterman’s head, the bullet ripping a fist-sized hole in the fabric.

The watching crowd screamed at the sight of blazing guns, loud retorts and clouds of gunsmoke. They ran in terror, ducking and diving under wagon beds to get out of the line of fire.

Henfield closed both fists over his ears and sunk to his knees crying out prayers that no one could hear above the sound of gun shots.

Crouching, Diehard levered back the hammer and fired again. Dust puffed from Carter’s heavy coat and the tail flapped away as the .45 caliber bullet ripped through. Carter’s return of fire raked the air next to Diehard’s ear and the cowboy heard the whip-snap crack of the close miss.

Nosey was blazing away, his lip so compressed in concentration that chin and large nose almost met in the faintly comic expression of a rodeo clown. Betterman attempted to reply but the half-trained mare under him fought to escape the mayhem and almost threw him in its terror. He could neither fire his pistol nor could Nosey hit his target as the pony spun wildly about.

Henfield, on his knees, twisted around as a stray slammed into his shoulder, punching into the deltoid muscle and throwing him into the dust with a howl of pain. As the preacher dropped, Carter saw the new opening between the warring parties and threw his arm around to take a long-arm shot at the now exposed Nosey. Teeth bared in a grimace, he banged off two shots in quick succession. Hit under the ribs, the little wrangler dropped onto one knee still firing, his concentration fixed on the spinning Betterman.

Diehard saw him drop and forgetting Carter, he raced across to his partner.

In that moment, Betterman brought the bay under control and with an angry jab of the spurs headed the horse out of the clearing, leaping it over the wagon tongues and the terrified people crouching there. With a curse, Carter found he was clicking on empty brass. He had Diehard plain in his sights but his pistol was out of ammunition. Spitting vituperative curses, he caught up the reins of the gray and leapt up into the saddle quickly following Betterman fast away from the wagon ring.

‘Nosey!’ begged Diehard, falling to his knees and clasping the small figure to him.

Dazedly, Nosey stared after the departing riders. He tried to raise his gun hand but it weaved weakly and he lowered the pistol.

‘Hellfire, Diehard,’ he snuffed. ‘Damn near had the bastard.’

‘How bad you hurt, fella?’

‘Dunno,’ mumbled Nosey. ‘Took one somewhere. I’ll be okay, help me up, will you?’

‘No, you stay there. Let’s see the damage.’

Slowly, the congregation was working their way out from cover and a few loped over to help the wounded Henfield, who lay, flopping limply on the ground.

Diehard stared at them wildly, ‘Can we have some help? I have a wounded man here.’

Smoke and dust was gradually settling in the circle of wagons and the gathered men and women cast resentful glances at Diehard as they came tentatively forward.

‘For the love of God,’ he called.

‘You brought this into out midst,’ an angry voice called from the crowd. ‘Captain Henfield is hurt bad all thanks to you. Tend to your own, sinner.’

Diehard could feel Nosey sinking, his head drooping in towards his chest and Diehard looked down to see the little wrangler’s eyes glazing over.

‘Nosey! Nosey! Come on, pard. Stay with me.’

‘Hell of a ride,’ slurred Nosey, a thin smile quirking his lips. ‘Wouldn’t have missed it for the world.’

Then he was gone and Diehard felt the weight of the body sag in his arms as the spirit departed.

‘Oh, damn it, no!’ sobbed Diehard, the breath juddering in his chest as he held the little figure tight in his arms.

They had Henfield on his feet; his face was white and pale as a new moon. He leaned heavily against those supporting him, his arm a dripping sheet of blood.

‘Best you are gone from here, brother Diehard,’ he croaked. ‘Take your hate and sinful ways far from us for we are peaceful people.’

Diehard looked up at him sadly, ‘Will you see to my friend here?’ he asked.

‘He shall be laid to rest in God’s sight,’ Henfield promised.

‘Lay stones on his grave, bury him deep, I don’t want the prairie critters getting to him.’

‘As you wish,’ Henfield agreed weakly.

Gently, Diehard laid Nosey down and climbed to his feet. ‘I’m right sorry to bring this on you people,’ he said. But they were already turning away, ignoring him and helping their staggering leader over towards one of the wagons for treatment.

Diehard looked down at the small body at his feet. Blood leaked from the dusty clothes around the belly, the head was thrown back with staring empty eyes and the lips were parted showing the gaped teeth. Diehard crossed himself and whispered a prayer for the repose of the cowboy’s soul then he pulled the cowboy’s hat down to cover his dead face and turned and looked over towards where Carter and Betterman had vanished into the darkness. Grimness tightened his jaw and a steely look of hate filled his eyes as he secretly determined to make the two outlaws pay for this death.