The Last Good Day, стр. 4
“No, never did.”
“Then why you wearing that uniform?”
“Like you, I have my reasons.”
“You do know what the war was bout?” Black Wind said.
“It was more than freeing the slaves,” Rance said. “They wanted our land and control of the southern states.”
“Not sure I buy that. I think you made the wrong decision. But…you paid for it and we won the war. I’ll settle for that. Let bygones be bygones. No sense in us hating each other anymore.”
“What about them,” Rance said, looking at the dead men.
“Got no forgiveness for them.”
“How did they get the drop on you?” Rance asked. “You’re big enough to go bear hunting with a switch.”
“Stupid for the most part,” he said. “Got drunk and wound up in a place I shouldn’t have been, and the next thing I know I’m tied to my horse with those two idiots telling me they’re going to scalp me and sell my hair to a renegade trader.”
“Where you headed now?”
“Can’t go back home, they would scalp me. We can ride along together while I think it over and watch each other’s back. Or go our separate ways, not opposed to either one.”
“Might be better to ride together for now till some of the hostility on both sides wears down a bit,” Rance said.
“That’s goin’ to be a long time.” Black Wind walked over to the two dead men, emptied their pockets, grabbed them by their collars with each hand, dragged them to the creek and rolled them in. He untied the horses, reached in Jake’s saddle bags and took out two small sacks. “Heavy. Let’s see what we got here.” He placed the sacks on a rock and untied the sacks and looked in. “Full of gold and silver coins,” he said. “Must be over two hundred dollars here. Looks like they been outlawin.’ I’ll split it with you.”
“Don’t want it,” Rance said, struggling to get to his feet.
“Then I’ll keep it.” He reached in Smiley’s saddle bag and took out a tomahawk. “Almost forgot that bastard had my tomahawk,” he said and stuck the tomahawk in his belt. “They both got Henry’s in their saddle boots. Best we move on fore we need them. You can saddle your horse later with one of their saddles.”
He handed the reins to Smiley’s horse to Rance. He hesitated for a moment then took the reins.
The two men gave each other a long look before mounting. They knew there was more to be said but it could wait. Rance pulled himself up on Smiley’s horse and looped Buck’s reins over the brass spyglass on the saddle horn .
“Wish we had killed them fore they drank the whiskey,” Black Wind said.
“You got a Christian name?” Rance asked.
“B.W. Ramsey. Ramsey was my mama’s slave name. Indians called her Dark Sky. Got no problem with B.W. I’ll just call you major.”
Rance nodded okay.
3
They rode along in silence most of the day, each holding his thoughts before Rance spoke.
“We’re getting close to a town called Whiskey Gulch if I remember right. Maybe we can get a bath and some clean clothes there.”
“You do stink,” B.W. said.
“And you don’t?” Rance said.
“Naw. Indians have a kind of tree bark smell, blends in.”
“Bullshit.”
“It’s a fact. My mama said we did and white people smell like lattice.”
“Lattice doesn’t have a smell.”
“Does to us.”
Rance shook his head.
As they topped the next hill, Whiskey Gulch came into view – a one street mining town with three or four saloons, a livery stable and a mercantile store.
It was dusk when they rode in, the only light coming from the saloons. A lady from the balcony of a two-story saloon waved a lace handkerchief at them and pulled her skirt up to show her leg and smiled as they rode by.
Most of the horses tied to the hitching post along the street looked like plow horses instead of cow ponies
A two-horse wagon with “Caraway Mines” painted on the side of the wagon was tied to a hitching post in front of a saloon. A sign in the window read: Hot baths $5.
“Looks like we hit town ‘bout the same time all the miners did,” Rance said.
“Maybe we should get us a drink, something to eat and move on,” B.W. said.
“I’m goin’ to get me a hot bath with soap and clean clothes,” Rance said.
”Think I’ll wait,” B.W. said.
Two men staggered out of the saloon, one falling into B.W.’s horse. B.W. kicked him away and he staggered on down the street.
“Trust me, you don’t smell like a tree,” Rance said.”Well, at least not a live one.”
“You go ahead,” B.W. said. “I’ll take the horses to the livery stable. Don’t think I want to pay five dollars for a bath anyway. You got money?”
Rance nodded.
“I’ll come back and buy you a drink,” B.W. said.
“Suit yourself,” Rance said, dismounted and handed B.W. the reins to Smiley’s horse and to Buck, then walked in the saloon.
B.W. sat there on his horse for a moment, looking at the swinging doors, inhaling the whiskey smell that drifted into the street. He wiped his mouth like he could taste the whiskey and led the horses to the livery stable.
A young boy dressed in overalls, barefooted with shaggy blonde hair and bright blue eyes was sweeping out stalls.
“Can I get some feed and water for my horses?” B.W. asked.
“Yes sir,” the boy said. “Fifty cents a horse.”
“That grain and hay?”
“Yes sir,” the boy said.
“Alright. Here’s two dollars.” B.W. handed him two one-dollar gold pieces. “Unsaddle them and put the saddles back on after they eat. Put the saddle on the bay on the buckskin. I’ll be back in a couple of hours and those rifles better still be on the saddles.”
A big man with a grisly face and a long black beard walked in chewing