The Undertaker's Devil - 1. AJ Ritter Meets Samael

AJ Ritter of Ritter & Ream was the undertaker for Billy Clanton and the McLaury brothers after the Tombstone's famous gun battle. Samael is entirely an invention. The other characters are a mixture of history and invention.

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October 27, 1881

Tombstone, Arizona Territory

Mr. A.J. Ritter glanced with a grim smile at the growing crowd outside the window of his establishment, Ritter & Ream, Undertakers. It was he who had placed the sign reading “Murdered in the Streets of Tombstone” over the bodies of Tom McLaury, Frank McLaury and Billy Clanton. He didn’t wholly sympathize with the so-called Cowboy gang, but he thought that even the worst criminal deserved a trial, and he didn’t much care for the Earps. A steady stream of people walked by, paused, struggled to see through the others standing and staring, and moved on.

One did not move on — a young man who stood and stared, as unmoving as the corpses before him but for the slight, slow rise and fall of his breath. He held his hat in his hands. Ritter took in the longish dirty blond or light brown hair, the week’s growth of sparse pale beard, the stained clothes, and the scuffed boots, and thought he was probably a cowhand like the dead men before him.

Ritter moved to a back room, shuffled through some paperwork at his desk, and came back in half an hour. The crowd had thinned. The young man had not moved. Something in his stillness pulled at Ritter’s gut.

He stepped outside. “Boy, don’t you have someplace to be?”

“No, sir,” the young man answered.

“Don’t you have work to do?”

“Mister Ike Clanton told me he don’t need me no more.”

‘Don’t need me no more.’ Ritter shook his head ruefully. The West did not always attract the most educated of men. “Didn’t you ever go to school, boy?”

“No, sir.”

“How old are you?”

The young man’s glance drifted to the side. “Twenty-four, sir.”

Ritter could not quite suppress his laughter. “A lie is a poor way to start a friendship.”

The young man’s eyes swiveled to Ritter’s, suddenly intent. “Friendship?” he whispered, then looked down again. “I’m eighteen, sir. But I been making my own way three years.”

“Any family you can go back to?”

“No. All dead.”

Ritter thought a moment. “Have you eaten today?”

“No, sir.”

“Come inside and have some coffee and a roll.”

“I wouldn’t want to trouble you, sir.”

“It’s no trouble. Coffee’s made, rolls are sitting there going stale.”

The tip of the young man’s tongue wetted his lower lip, and Ritter found himself momentarily speechless at the sight.

“If you’re sure it’s no trouble.”

“I said so, didn’t I? Now come on in. What’s your name, son?”

“Samael Higgins.”

“Samuel, eh?”

“No, Samael. I guess somebody made a mistake on the birth certificate and it stuck.”

The name sent an unexpected shiver down Ritter’s spine. “I can still call you Sam, I expect?”

“Sure, that’s what everybody calls me. What — what’s your name?”

“A.J. Ritter. I’m the Ritter in Ritter and Ream.” Ritter placed an arm around Samael’s shoulder and pointed up at the sign over the storefront. Samael looked vaguely in the direction Ritter pointed, his gaze wandering. “Oh, Lord,” Ritter said. “You don’t know how to read, do you?”

Samael’s shoulders contracted in a defensive shrug. “I know how to write my name.”

“No matter.” Ritter grinned. “Neither could Homer, and he was the greatest poet who ever lived.”

“Homer who?”

Lord give me patience, Ritter thought. “Never mind.”

“Well, tell me his last name, Mister Ritter. I don’t want to stay ignorant my whole life.”

“All in good time. Now come on inside. And — you can call me Andy.”

As they crossed the threshold, Samael stopped and faced the three caskets.

“You knew them pretty well, I guess,” Ritter said.

“Yeah.” Samael didn’t move.

“Do you — want a moment with them?”

Samael hesitated. “Yeah, but — everybody outside can see.”

“There’s a curtain. I can draw it for a few minutes.”

Samael grinned with relief. “Thank you.” He waited a moment. “Could I —”

Ritter understood. “And I’ll leave you alone. I’ll be back that way, in my office, when you’re ready.”

Samael beamed with gratitude. “Thanks.”

Ritter drew the curtain and retreated to his desk. But the three bodies represented a political hot potato, and to leave them alone with a stranger was dereliction of duty. Fortunately, a mirror was placed perfectly for him to see the front room. He thought it unlikely that the young man would be up to any mischief, but one never knew.

He watched as Samael went to Billy Clanton’s body and put something in the breast pocket of the dead boy’s jacket. What on earth, he thought.

Samael soon walked back to find Ritter. “Thank you, sir,” he said.

“Andy. You’re quite welcome. Now let me get you the coffee and rolls I promised you.” Ritter poured a cup and put three rolls on a plate and set them out. “Pull up a chair and dig in. I’ll go open the curtain again.”

Samael did as he was told. Ritter walked to the front room and drew the curtain, then quickly went over to Billy’s body and searched the breast pocket. He pulled out a small rectangle of cardboard. On one side was a creditable pencil sketch of two faces, Billy Clanton and Samael. On the other was the single word “Forever.” Ritter quickly put it back.

His heart sank. As he walked back, his thoughts roiled. Oh, Sammy, what were you two boys getting up to? What was Billy to you? Here I was keeping to the straight and narrow, and you walk in. Good thing I’m far too old for you.

Reaching his office, Ritter looked at the young man with a newly cautious eye. Samael was just finishing the last of the rolls. Ritter said, “Funeral’s this afternoon.”

Samael jumped a bit and turned. “Yessir.”

“Call me Andy, please. I assume you’ll be attending. A lot of people are.”

“Well, if Mister Ike is there, I reckon I’ll just watch from the side.”

“Oh?”

“He don’t like me much.”

“So you don’t want to run into him.”

“No, sir.”

“Sam, just call me Andy.”

Despite his reluctance and confusion, Samael said, “Yes, Andy.”

Ritter continued hesitantly, “You, uh — you were friends with the men in there?”

“Yeah.”

“Any one of them in particular?”

Samael looked alarmed. “Billy was my friend.”

“Your particular friend.”

Samael’s lips moved as he searched for the right words. “He said we’d be friends forever. Said he’d always help me.”

Ritter nodded. “I’m sorry for your loss.” He had spoken the words many times in his line of work, but never with more sincerity. He reached out and touched the boy’s arm.

Samael’s face quivered for a moment. He said, “They shot him like he was nothing more than a rat,” and then burst into tears. When Ritter put his arms around him, he clung tightly to Ritter’s neck and sobbed.

“I’m so sorry, so sorry,” Ritter said, squeezing tighter. Samael’s tears gradually subsided. He kissed Ritter’s neck before withdrawing from the embrace and sitting down with his face in his hands.

Ritter tried to slow his suddenly rapid pulse. I must not do that again. This is all such a bad idea. But he’s here now, like the Devil who can’t enter your house until he’s invited. And I didn’t just invite him, I wouldn’t take no for an answer.

“Samael. Sammy. What did you do for the Clantons?”

Samael sat up straighter. “Sometimes Billy would let me ride with him while he was working, but Ike didn’t like that. Mostly I mucked out the horse stalls and cooked and cleaned in the house, washed the clothes. But Ike said somebody else is gonna do all that now.”

“So now you’re out of work. What will you do? Where will you go?”

Samael shrugged. “I’ll find something, I guess. Maybe there’s another ranch or farm I could work at. Maybe one of the mines. I don’t know.”

Ritter sighed. On impulse, he said, “Listen, I could use some help here. We’re not just undertakers. We do a lot of woodwork, you know — furniture, mouldings, picture frames, repairs. So we have a lot of lumber to keep track of. I could use someone to organize it and keep it tidy. Think you could do that?”

A look of surprise and hope lifted Samael’s face. “Sure! Sure, but — how many days a week? And I still got no place to live.”

“I think I can find enough duties to keep you busy full time. And there’s a room in back where you can sleep. How does that sound? Even if it’s only temporary while you look around for someplace to land.”

“You’d give me a place to stay? Would you be paying me anything on top of that?”

“It won’t be much, but yes, I will pay you.”

“Thank you. Thank you, Mr. Ritter, sir. Andy. I can’t believe it. I’ll work hard, I promise.”

“Fine, fine. We’ll discuss it tomorrow. Today we have some men to bury. That’s enough to think about for one day.”