Chapter 9

A Dandy from the Dust

“So if y’all saw the moon, then I reckon we gotta still be somewhere on earth,” Whiny Pete speculated.

“Not necessarily,” Spiffy put in. “Coulda been just lookin’ at it from some other planet. Or it coulda been a different moon entirely. Like one of the moons of Jupiter, for instance.”

“You sayin’ there’s more’n one moon?” Stumpy asked. “I only seen the one—unless they come out at different times.”

“Ah, that don’t mean we’re on Jupiter,” Red argued. “Or that we’re anyplace at all. Coulda just been made to look like a moon. And we’re somewhere between heaven and hell.”

“Maybe Jupiter’s between heaven and hell,” Spiffy suggested.

“So let me get this straight,” Sal wiped his hands on his apron. “You’re saying God put our dead souls on Jupiter? That’s the most ridiculous thing I ever heard!”

“Gotta put ’em somewheres.” Spiffy shrugged. “Why not Jupiter? Nobody’s ever gone there, so who’s to say the whole planet ain’t filled with dead souls.”

“Ah, I don’t give a piss where we are so long as there’s whiskey to drink!” Red interrupted.

“I can’t even say for certain it was a moon we saw,” I told them. “It was just a round bright thing. Only saw it for a second or two.”

“Did it look larger than the reg’lar moon?” Spiffy asked. “’Cause if we’re shrunken down smaller than a needle, it might appear that way.”

“Ah, enough with your shrunken-smaller-than-a-needle nonsense!” Sal hollered.

“If it was a moon, would that make the wolves friskier?” Pete chewed his fingers in worry. “I heard full moons get ’em all riled up. They was howling somethin’ awful last night.”

“Wolves don’t need much to get ’em going,” I said. “But if it was a moon, then it was a full one, and that probably don’t weigh in our favor. Least from the stories I read.”

The speculating was cut short when a new sharpie walked into the saloon. He wore a bright white suit with a string bowtie. His skin was as smooth as a lady’s, and you might’ve took him for one if it weren’t for his tall frame and wide jaw. Most folks came to Damnation looking a little ragged, whether they were sent by a bullet or a blade or the hoof a stubborn mule. One lumberjack arrived with a hatchet still wedged in the side of his skull. Said he’d gotten into a fight with another man over the ugliest whore in Montana. I’d never seen anyone come through the dust as clean as this man.

“Shit, Spiffy, he’s dressed even fancier than you,” Sal said. “Might have to give ’em your name.”

Before we could start a betting pool on his cause of death, he turned around, and that resolved the matter. A mess of bullet holes dotted his back like freckles on an Irish lass.

“Ain’t many folks singing my graces,” Sal remarked. “But you gotta be really sore at someone to unload on ’em, then reload to shoot ’em some more.”

“Musta been woman problems,” Red decided.

“Why’s that?” I asked.

“Nobody’d waste that much lead if you just steal their horse.”

“It’s true,” Spiffy agreed. “In some parts, a dozen bullets cost more’n a horse. Of course, a cuckold wouldn’t be concerned with pinching pennies. Seen it myself!” He pointed to the wound on his breast. “It’s a professional risk for us Casanova types,” he bragged, though Spiffy hadn’t had many conquests. It was rumored that the woman he’d been caught with had taken a roll in the hay with half the town.

Regardless, Spiffy swaggered over to the newbie like he was too big for his breeches and bought the man a beer. “Damn back shooters!” he said by way of commiseration. “They’re the lowest scum of the earth. Can’t stand it when a man won’t come at you head on.”

“Oh, I believe he intended to,” the newbie said with an evil grin. “But I was on top of his wife at the time and having too good of a time to oblige him.”

Spiffy chuckled. “Another man’s wife, huh? I thought so. Rode that horse before myself. Did she even tell you she was spoken for?”

“She didn’t do much talking, though I suppose she would have if not for the gag in her mouth.” The sharpie snickered.

“So you’re a rapist?” Spiffy was dumfounded.

“Among other things,” he answered without shame.

“Then I say you got what you deserve!”

“I guess I did.” He nodded with his creepy grin.

“Well don’t you even wanna know where you are?”

“Does it really matter? The last place they called earth and said I came out of my mother, though I don’t recall the event. I suppose they got a name for this place, too.”

“Damnation’s what they call it. It’s kinda like a sifter for hell, but I guess you don’t care much about that.”

“Very well. Damnation it is.” He lifted his glass with little interest. “When I was a kid, a nun in the orphanage told me to behave or I’d burn in hell for all eternity. I raped her and cut her throat and have been doing my utmost to misbehave ever since. It seems I didn’t end up in hell after all, so why should I believe you know any more about Damnation than she knew about earth?”

“’Cause you done died, mister!”

“So it seems.” the stranger shrugged. “And since I lived so wholeheartedly, I’ve been rewarded with the chance to keep doing what I enjoy.”

Ms. Parker came through the swinging doors while gripping her belly in discomfort. She had been getting larger of late, and had to let out her wedding gown on account of it. The soft glow of fertility suited her. There was a rosy shine to her cheeks that none of the other dead women had, and her bosom had swelled. The stranger looked at her, like a wolf watching a lamb.

“Who is that delightful creature?” he asked.

“You mean Ms. Parker?” Spiffy said. “She wouldn’t interest you none. She’s wearing the bustle wrong. First pregnant woman there’s ever been in Damnation. Still not sure how it happened.”

“You say this is hell’s sifter.” He smiled, “But I do believe it’s heaven.”

The dandy swaggered across the room like he was accustomed to women looking favorably on him. As he approached Ms. Parker, he doffed his hat with a courteous bow, showing a mess of wavy yellow hair, then flashed his bright white teeth. Your average outlaw wasn’t too easy on the eyes, so the pickings in town were pretty slim, but this fella would’ve stood out among any gussied-up sharpies.

“I do believe we are birds of a feather,” he announced. “A man in white and a lady in white. All we need is a chapel and a priest. My name is Malachi.”

“Pleased to meet you, Mr. Malachi.” She blushed at his chivalry.

“Just Malachi, ma’am. Would you care to join me for a glass of lemonade?” She accepted his arm, and he led her to a table in the corner.

Buddy came in while they were shooting the breeze and sat at the end of the bar watching them. Looked like he was aching to put a lead plumb in the fella, but he had to concede that she wasn’t averse to his company. Buddy wasn’t slender, nor smooth of cheek. And just because he could outdraw any man didn’t mean the prettiest girl in town was going to go weak in the knees for him. He nursed his beer, surely wishing he could trade some of his speed to be as handsome as the man in white.

“Who’s the greenhorn?” he asked.

“He’s a bad egg,” Spiffy explained. “Kilt and raped a nun in an orphanage. Prolly kilt and raped plenty of women. You gonna let him sit with Ms. Parker?”

Hearing that the man was an orphan hit a tender spot with Buddy. As an orphan himself, he was less inclined to shoot someone who didn’t have a family to teach him right from wrong. Not that he could abide the killing and raping of a nun. He was more concerned that Ms. Parker might not take a shine to his meddling in her affairs.

“I ain’t her pa,” he replied. “I can’t tell her who she can and can’t drink lemonade with.”

“That Malachi fella’s worse’n Red and his boys you shot up. He doesn’t even care that he’s been kilt. Says he’s just glad he’s got a chance to rape some more.”

Buddy just grimaced and kept his eyes peeled for anything that would warrant his interference. Spiffy didn’t press the matter any further, and nothing more was said till Nigel came through the door. He scented out Ms. Parker right away. Seeing her in the company of the stranger, he headed straight to their table, but Buddy blocked his path. It was the first time anyone ever tried to stand in his way.

“Don’t worry about it,” Buddy told him. “I got this one.”

Oddly, Nigel didn’t tear off any of Buddy’s limbs. Must’ve had his reasons for keeping him around. “I don’t think you realize how dangerous that man is,” he said. “His lust for killing approaches that of a vampire.”

“Sure, he’s a real bad egg. I got that,” Buddy said. “But he’s just a man and I don’t need no backup for a man—’specially a dead tenderfoot. Soon as the lady shows any sign of displeasure, I’ll be sure to relocate him to his ‘proper place in the cosmos’ or whatever you call it.”

“It could be too late by then. I can smell his bloodlust. And she’s pregnant! No, this won’t do at all. If you hope to raise a child here, I dare say you have to be a tad more picky about whom you allow to remain. There could never be any sort of harmonious society with men like that in the population.”

“Well, I can’t shoot him for what he done on earth,” Buddy argued. “Nor what you think he might do in the future. There’s a code among men. He’s gotta actually do something here. But I’ll have words with the lady.”

Buddy walked over and greeted Ms. Parker, then nodded to the stranger in white. They looked pretty cozy together, which made Buddy fidget nervously.

“There’s a couple a free chairs at the faro table if you’d care to join me, ma’am.”

“Thank you, Buddy, but Malachi and I were just about to take a stroll around town,” she replied. “This afternoon, he walked in on a holdup in Chicago and bravely shielded some children from gunfire. He was hit in the back. Isn’t that just horrible?”

“Lotta bullet holes just for crossfire.” Buddy stared into Malachi’s cold eyes.

“Yes, it’s remarkable the cruelty some people harbor toward the innocent.” Malachi returned the stare. He looked like the sort of kid who’d pull the legs off a bug for fun. Couldn’t fault Ms. Parker for not noticing though. Many a man bought a murdering widow’s story just because she had a nice pair of legs. Ms. Parker seemed stung by Buddy’s insinuation.

“Well, I’m sure Malachi wouldn’t know so much about gun wounds since he’s not in your line of work,” she replied with some venom.

“Oh? What line of work you in, friend?” Buddy asked

“Sales,” he replied. “The good book of King James.”

“You tellin’ me you’re a bible thumper?”

“Most popular book of all time. It practically sells itself. I just filled the orders for those in need.”

“If you’ll excuse us, Mr. Baker. I’m going to give him a tour of the town now. The twilight skies are endearing till you begin to miss the fullness of the sun.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Buddy dipped his hat as they strolled out arm in arm. Then he cowered back to the bar.

“Well, get after them!” Nigel ordered.

“I can’t be right on their heels,” Buddy argued. “Ms. Parker’ll think I’m spying on her.”

“You are.”

“I don’t want her to know that.”

He insisted on waiting a full minute before following. They were strolling along the boardwalk in no particular hurry and had just reached the edge of town. Buddy might’ve been good with a gun, but he wouldn’t have made much of a Pinkerton, unless he was trailing a blind man. I watched from the doorway as he zigzagged up the road. Every time Ms. Parker turned around, she was sure to see a post with a pot belly or a large body diving behind a rotted-out barrel. Malachi must’ve noticed, too.

As they were taking in the mini dust twisters on the flatlands, Buddy let out some cooing noises meant to mimic an owl. He was trying to distract them in case they got it in their heads to do some smooching. It wasn’t very convincing since there weren’t any birds in Damnation. They turned and headed back, taking the long way to avoid going by the wolves’ saloon. Malachi went into the latrine, and Ms. Parker took the opportunity to give Buddy a piece of her mind.

“I do appreciate you looking after me, Mr. Baker, but this has got to stop,” she fumed. “I didn’t mean to mislead you…”

“No, ma’am,” he sulked.

“Now hear me out. I don’t intend on having my every move watched.”

“But ma’am, you don’t know what kind of man you’re keeping company with.”

“Neither do you.”

“But ma’am, he told Spiffy—”

“Yes, I know all about it. Malachi told me that he was a sinner when he was alive. He told me plenty… How he was disrespectful to women and broke the law, but coming to the other side has changed him, and he regrets what he’s done.”

“But you don’t understand, ma’am. Even the vampire says he’s real bad. Smells the evil on him.”

“Oh, you mean the vampire who avoids being in the same room with me because he’s afraid he’ll eat my baby? And this coming from a murdering train robber. The first time a decent man comes to town you all try to scare him off. Frankly, I don’t care what Malachi might have done when he was alive. Doesn’t he deserve a second chance? Ain’t that why we’re all here?” she said in a huff.

Malachi returned with his bible salesman’s smile and Buddy scampered off. Nigel also left for fear Ms. Parker would trigger his thirst for warm blood.

“Watch ’em,” Buddy told me on the way out. “If anything happens, get the vampire. And if the vampire looks like he’s getting hungry, come get me and I’ll send both their asses to hell.”

On account of my limp, I reckoned I wasn’t the best choice for a job that entailed a lot of running around. Ms. Parker was liable to get raped or eaten before I fetched anyone who could help. Not to mention, if Malachi tried something when no one else was nearby, I might be forced to shoot him, which would preclude my chances of getting into heaven.