The Gunfighter Page 8

  “Is it better, sweet’ums?” she said.

  “I reckon I’ll live,” I said.

  “What was it that was so urgent you had to come and try to wake me up so early in the morning and take your life in your hands like that?” she said.

  “I need to know about ole Peester and the wife of a guy name of Singletree,” I said. “Aubrey told me you’d know all about it.”

  Chapter Eight

  By God, the next thing I knowed, I was flying headlong through the air. I had wondered a time or two, like I guess all men does now and then, just what it would be like to fly, and ole Bonnie, she sure showed me, and here’s just the way she done it. She jumped up, dumping me flat on my back on the bed, and before I could even think about recovering some, she grabbed my shirtfront and pulled me up to where I was in a setting position. She hauled me forward just enough to clear the handles she wanted. Then she took me by the collars, all of them, from behind, and by the back side of my belt at the same time, and she lifted me right up to where I was a-swinging all fours in midair.

  “Bonnie,” I said, “put me down.”

  She run through that room and through the door and down the hall.

  “What the hell’re you doing, Bonnie?” I said.

  I seen the stairway dead ahead, but the whole world was kinda swinging and swaying’cause of my particular situation. “Bonnie,” I said, “turn me loose,” and she did, but it weren’t just exactly what I had meant. What she done was she swung me back and forth three or four times in order to get herself a good powerful heave, and then she let go on a forward swing, and I went a-flying. I mean, she didn’t just pitch me down the stairs. She flung me out and up, way over the stairs. I seen them stairs down there below me whilst I was a-flying.

  I seen faces down there, too, a-looking up at me wild eyed and horrified, most likely thinking that they was a-fixing to see a death the like of which hadn’t never been seen before on this earth, and they was more a them folks down there, too, than what was there whenever I had left a bit earlier. Some others had come in since then. I even seen ole Sly just step in through the front door, and I noticed that Happy had snuck his ass back in. I seen all that while I was up there a-flying.

  Well, I was flying pretty good too, ole Bonnie had give me a hell of a start, so I tried to keep it up by flapping my wings and hoping that I might could at least give myself a softer landing or something, but it never worked. I had flew out at a slight angle, so whenever I final come down, I weren’t right over the stairs no more. I was off to one side, and there was a table down below. There wasn’t no one setting at it, and that was good, ‘cause that was where I come down, and I come down hard. I landed flat on my belly, flat on top of that table. It cushioned my landing some. I’m convinced that it weren’t near as hard as a floor landing woulda been. It took out all my air, though, and all I was thinking was that I had final quit flying, and I was still alive, and then all the legs give out together on that there table, and me and the tabletop took a hard drop to the floor. I believe that one hurt worser than the first landing. I also believe it was that last short drop to the floor that busted my nose.

  I couldn’t move. I couldn’t breathe. I sure couldn’t say nothing. I could hear, though, and I heard footsteps a-coming toward me. There was several of them, but they weren’t in no hurry. It sounded kinda like whenever you’ve shot something and it’s laying still but you ain’t sure if you kilt it or not and so you’re a-moving in real slow and easy. That’s what it sounded like. But it was me they was moving in on. Then I made out ole Aubrey’s voice.

  “She fin’ly went and killed him,” he said. “I always knew she would, sooner or later.”

  “You sure she kilt him?” said Happy, and I wished that I could talk so I coulda told him how stupid he was sounding just then.

  “He ain’t breathing,” Aubrey said. “That usually means a man’s dead, don’t it?”

  “It can mean a man’s dead,” said a calmer voice, and I could make it out to belong to ole Widdermaker hisself, and as he talked he come closer to me, “or it can mean that he’s holding his breath for some reason, or his breath has all been knocked out of him.”

  Then I felt hands take aholt of me, and I heard Sly say, “Give me a hand here,” and then I was rolled over onto my back, and I was staring straight up at Sly and ole Happy. They took holda my arms then and pulled me up to a setting position. They caught their own breath, then hauled me on up to my feet and commenced to walking, one on each side of me a-holding me up. By and by I started in to get some breath back. Soon as I felt like I had the strength back to support my own self, I waved my arms out, flinging the two of them offa me and standing alone, and then I kept on a-waving my arms some more after that, and each of my breaths was a little faster, deeper, and louder than the last one.

  Well, it musta looked like as if I was a-going to try to fly again, but that weren’t it at all. What I was doing was I was waving at Aubrey to come to me, and I was a-trying to get in enough breath to call out one time, and whenever I did get the breath enough, then I did yell out, and I said, “Whiskey.” Then I just sorta fell backwards, and someone got a chair underneath my ass just in time, and I set down real heavy. Aubrey come a-running fast enough, and he handed me a tumbler full. I took it and started in to gulping. He stood there a-watching me, like as if he wanted to say something to me whenever I come up for air, but I guess he got tired of waiting. He reached back behind me and put the bottle down on the nearest table there. I come up for air. I set there breathing hard and heavy.

  “Baijack,” Aubrey said, “Your nose —”

  “ — is broke,” I said. “Fix it for me.” I tipped back the tumbler and gulped down the rest of the whiskey. Then I leaned my head back to give ole Aubrey a proper shot at me. You see, you don’t need no doc to set no broke nose. Anyone can do it for you, if he’s got the guts for it, and ole Aubrey, he had set my broke nose a time or two after some little brawls there in the Hooch House.

  Aubrey, he kinda nodded at ole Happy, and Happy took a hard swaller and stepped up behind me. He got hisself a grip on my shoulders and I laid my head back into his gut, and Aubrey stepped on in. He put his left hand against the side of my head to hold it still, and then he felt around on my nose a little. Figgering it out, he placed a thumb against it and shoved hard, and I felt that ole nose slide across my face and kinda click back in place there where it was supposed to be at. I roared out, though, at the pain like a mama lion.

  I set there holding my head in both my hands and a-blinking while the world kept a-changing from all red to all black with ever’ blink of my eyeballs, and each blink was a throb too. I didn’t hear no voices all during this time, so my sense of the situation is that ever’one in the place was just a-standing or setting around a-waiting to see how I was a-fixing to come outa all that. It come to me in the midst of all that silence that I had not picked a wise time to question ole Bonnie Boodle. Final, the red took over, and then it faded some. The pain from the snapping of my nose back into place begun to ease off. I set up straight. I looked around me to see where I was at. I seen my bottle on a table kinda behind me, so I turned my chair around to the table. Aubrey seen what I was a-doing, and he was right there. He picked up my tumbler from where I had dropped it on the floor, and he poured it full and set it in front of me.

  “Are you all right, Baijack?” he asked me.

  “I’m just fine,” I said. “Hell, I’m wonderful. Any you men what ain’t tried flying yet, by God, I recommend it right high. There ain’t no sensation like it in the whole world. It’s like you’re a-soaring like a bird. Like an eagle. Like you’re riding on the wind. Why, you can look down and see all the folks down below all at one time, and you can see them looking up at you in very wonder at the magnificent fact of your flying over their heads.” Well, folks had caught on to me by then, and they seen that I wasn’t dead, so they was beginning to chuckle a little, and so I added, “There’s just only a couple of details I need
to work on to make flying even better.”

  “What’s that, Baijack?” Happy asked me.

  “How to stay up there longer,” I said, “and how to come down with a little more ease.”

  Why, then they bursted out laughing at me, and ole Aubrey, he was selling the beer and whiskey in kinda record volume for that time of the day. So I figgered that the whole entire morning weren’t going to turn out to be a total loss and a waste after all. Then I tried to recall just what it was that I had wanted to know about so bad, but I couldn’t pull the thought up outa my brain, what was some addled just then, as I’m sure you’ll understand why.

  “Set down, Happy,” I said, and he set across from me. I looked around, and I seen ole Sly still a-standing. I give him a wave, and he come a-walking over. “Set a spell with us,” I said. “I reckon you’ve done et, but I’ll stand you for some more coffee — or whatever else you might be in mind of drinking this fine morning.”

  Sly took a seat to Happy’s right. He give me a smile. “I believe I’ll have a drink of your fine whiskey with you, Marshal,” he said, “in honor of your first day of flight. You achieved what Icarus achieved but failed to live to tell about. You, on the other hand, have given us a marvelous description of the sensation of flight.” During all that, Aubrey had stuck a glass down in front of Sly, and he poured it full. Sly lifted it up like as if for a toast. ‘To Icarus and Baijack,” he said. “Two expressions of the highest nobility of the human spirit.” Well, now, what with my recent somewhat earth-shattering experience, all of them big words ole Sly was a-spewing begin to work on my head and cause it to spin some more. I weren’t at all sure but what I was being set up and poked fun at, and I sure didn’t care for that none, no matter what if it was the Widdermaker a — doing the funning.

  “What was that other feller’s name?” I said.

  “Icarus?” Sly said.

  “Yeah,” I said. “That’s the one. Ickrus. Tell me about that there Ickrus. Just what did he do?”

  “Icarus was a Greek,” said Sly. “The son of a fisherman, but he wanted more out of life. He had great aspirations. He wanted to fly, Baijack, just as you. He collected a great many feathers from the largest birds around, and when he had enough, he built himself a pair of wings, using wax to stick the feathers together and then to attach the completed wings to his own back and arms. Then he went to the highest hill, and he jumped off. He flapped his wings, and he could indeed fly. You see, Baijack, he mastered the first of the two problems you yourself mentioned — the problem of how to stay up longer. The wings solved that problem for him… almost.”

  “Almost?” I said. “What happened?”

  “He flew too high and stayed too long in the hot sun,” Sly said. “The wax melted, and poor Icarus plunged to his death.”

  “Aw, the poor bastard,” I said. “Well, I ain’t going to have that problem nohow, ‘cause I ain’t going to stick no feathers all over myself with no wax. I done been flying without no feathers.”

  “And you came down,” said Sly, “and lived to tell about it. You’re already way out ahead of Icarus. You are the current champion of free, unassisted flight.”

  “Well, now, Mister Sly,” I said, “that sounds good, but I ain’t so sure about it. That there Ickrus, he musta got hisself up there real high in order for the sun to melt that there wax and all. How high do you s’pose he got?”

  “The actual height was never recorded,” Sly said. “I suppose if we had been there to watch, Icarus would have appeared to us as a high-flying eagle or hawk in the sky.”

  “That high, huh?” I said. “Well, now, you see, I ain’t never even come close to that. I weren’t even outside, and so I had this here roof in my way. Besides, I got to work on my slowing-down and landing techniques before I take my ass up that high.”

  “I can understand that,” Sly said.

  Right then ole Sly was a-keeping up with me drink for drink, and ever’one else in the place seemed to be just content in a-watching and a-listening to the two of us whilst we went on and on embellishing the tale of my flight and adding to the old story about Ickrus and how whenever he tried the same thing, he got hisself killed. By and by, though, as new ones come in, why, they didn’t know what the hell we was talking about, so someone would have to tell them the whole thing from the beginning. Once I overheard someone, I don’t know who, saying, “And then I looked up, and I seen ole Bar-jack just a circling this very room, right up there over my head.”

  It sounded to me like as if someone had started a fight over by the front door, but I was feeling too good to let it worry me. Happy come over, though, and he said, “Baijack, a couple of cowhands is trying to bust the place up over there.”

  “Handle them, Happy,” I said.

  “Yes, sir,” he said. He took on off through the crowd, and then I decided I wanted to watch ole Happy do his job. I leaned over so I could see better. That didn’t work. I had to stand up.

  “What is it, Baijack?” Sly said.

  “Stand up here a minute and let’s watch ole Happy take on them drunk cowboys over yonder,” I said.

  “Oh,” said Sly, and he kinda lurched up to his feet. He was a-looking around the room, which had done got good and crowded by this time, and I pointed Sly in the right direction. Ole Happy had learnt good, I can tell you that. He didn’t call out no warnings nor nothing. He walked right up behind the first of them two fighting cowboys, pulled out his Colt, and banged it down hard on the man’s head. As the man crumpled on down to the floor, clearing the air between his opponent and ole Happy, the one left standing, the opponent, suddenly was a-looking in the barrel of Happy’s Colt’stead of at the fists of the other cowboy. Happy cocked the Colt, and the cowboy stood still.

  “Unbuckle your gunbelt and drop it on the floor,” Happy said, and the cowboy done it. “Now get his and put it over there with yours,” said Happy. The cowboy done that. Then Happy said, “All right, grab aholt on your buddy somewheres, ‘cause you’re a-taking him along with yourself on over to the jailhouse.”

  I watched just a little more after that, just till the cowboy had commenced dragging the deadweight of his former sparring partner toward the door, and then I set my ass back down. I was some wobbly on my feet anyhow. So was Sly. He damn near missed the chair whenever he set back down, but he never. He made it all right. “Happy done that just right,” I said. “Just the way I taught him to do it. I ain’t going to tell him that, though. Can’t have him getting cocky on me, you know.”

  “Heaven forbid,” Sly slurred.

  Of a sudden, ole Bonnie plopped her fat ass down right next to me, and leaned over close at me, and give me a simpering look. I hadn’t even knowed that she had come down the stairs. Sly tipped his hat. “Baby,” she said to me, “you’re all right, ain’t you?”

  “No thanks to you,” I said. “You committed attempted murder on my person. You damn near killed me, and you did break my nose. The last fella what went through what you just put me through, fella name of Ickrus, was kilt outright.”

  “Oh, baby,” she said, “don’t be mad at me. You know how I am in the mornings.”

  “Next time you take a notion in your head to kill me,” I said, “just tell me. I’ll make it easy on you.” I pulled out my Merwin and Hulbert Company revolver, cocked it, and laid it on the table with die barrel aimed right smack dab at my own chest. The butt was within easy grasp for Bonnie. It got real quiet around us. Folks heard that click, and they seen me lay down that gun like I done it. “You want to kill me,” I said, “there’s the gun. It’s loaded, and it’s cocked. Hell, it’s even aimed for you. All you got to do is just pull the trigger. That’s all.”

  “I don’t want to kill you, Baijack,” she said.

  “You don’t?” I said. “Why, it’d sure be damned hard as hell to convince anyone who was in here for my Ickrus act of the fact of what you just said.”

  “Huh?” she said.

  “I mean,” I said, “that anyone who seen my highflyi
ng act this morning would sure as hell thought that you meant to kill me dead. That’s what I meant.”

  She looked over at Sly, and he kinda shrugged. She looked back at me, and then she done the one thing I was hoping she wouldn’t do, but I shoulda knowed she would do it. Ever’ time it looked like as if I was about to get the best of her in a situation like that there, she done it. She done it as a last way of finishing me off and winning the fight or the argument or just coming out on top of the situation. She went to crying.

  It started with just her lips a-quivering, and a little pout on her face. She brung up a tear from somewhere, and it commenced real slow-like to running out the comer of her eye. Her cheeks was so fat, it just set there on top of her cheek for spell with no place to run to. Then she started in to talk, and her voice was little and quivery.

  “I didn’t know what I was doing, baby,” she said. “I wouldn’t hurt you on purpose. Not for the whole world, I wouldn’t. You know that. I love you, honey.”

  “Aw, Bonnie,” I said, “hell, don’t go to bawling now.”

  “But I didn’t mean to do you no harm,” she blubbered. I reached around her as far as I could and give her a squeeze.

  “Hell,” I said, “it’s all right. Why, it give us the best story what the Hooch House has ever had anyhow. Folks’ll be telling that one over and over from now on, and it’ll be told from here to Denver.”

  “Why, the tale of your Icarian flight will be set to ballad lines,” said Sly. “To Denver? Why, the words will fly through Denver to Seattle, Portland, Sacramento, San Francisco, Los Angeles, and thence across the ocean to China.”