The Undertaker's Devil - 4. After the G.A.R. Meeting Was Over

Over the next few days, Ritter and Samael established a routine. They set up a cookstove on the covered porch in back and a small icebox for perishables. Samael usually cooked breakfast and often lunch, and Ritter took them out for dinner. Many of the smaller, lighter woodworking supplies were kept upstairs, so Samael was often passing Ritter on the stairs. Ritter remained affable but a little distant, and whatever Samael searched for in his face remained hidden.

They had agreed on a wage of one dollar a day, six days a week, plus room and board. Still, when Samael saw his first week’s wages, he was overwhelmed by the pile of coins. “Don’t overestimate its value,” Ritter told him. “This is a mining town and things are expensive.”

Samael soon had all the lumber well organized. Ritter tested him on a little basic carpentry, and when Samael proved adept, Ritter started him on making coffins.

Probing further, Ritter established that Samael knew his numbers and could add and subtract but had never learned multiplication and division. Ritter pushed Sammy to recite the times tables faster and faster with him, clasping alternating hands for each fact:

Clasp right hands: “One, six, six!”

Clasp left hands over right hands: “Two, six, twelve!”

Clasp right hands over left: “Three, six, eighteen!”

Clasp left hands over right: “Four, six, twenty-four!”

By the time they got to nine, six, fifty-four, they usually ended up in a giggling tussle on the floor.

Life went on in Tombstone, despite the enmity simmering in the background. Ike Clanton filed murder charges against the Earps, and a hearing began, with Judge Wells Spicer presiding, to determine if criminal charges against the Earps should proceed.

Joe Corbin was in and out frequently, discussing projects with Ritter and picking up materials. The second time Samael saw him, he needed a few things from the storeroom Samael had reorganized. Corbin smiled at the sight. “You really have done wonders here, Sam. I can actually get around in here. I'm very grateful to you for saving me a dozen stubbed toes and cut fingers.”

“Oh, I mostly just cleaned up and put things away,” Samael said.

“There’s that, and that’s good. But you probably don’t know the biggest wonder, because you just met Andy. The biggest wonder is that he’s smiling. I never saw him smile so much before.”

Samael blushed. “Maybe he can relax a little more, not trying to do everything himself.”

Corbin looked at Samael for a moment before replying. “Yes, that’s probably it.”

Ream arrived one afternoon to speak to Ritter. “Just had to turn down a job, Andy,” he said.

“Why is that?”

“Old Chester Grant died. His wife Amy asked me if we could take care of the body.”

“We have plenty of coffins.”

“He wanted to be buried back in Ohio.”

“Oh. I see.”

“We would have to embalm the body in order to ship it any distance.”

“Right.”

“So I sent her to Aaron Haydee. He’ll do a good job. He’s got the equipment and all that. Thing is, I’ve heard he wants to sell his business. Apparently he’s not making a good living.”

“He should have known better than to call his place ‘Haydee’s Funeral Parlor,’ even in Tombstone.”

“I’ve a mind to go over there and ask him about it. If we could just buy out his equipment, it would save us a lot of trouble. Maybe he’d even show us how it’s done.”

“Maybe.” Something about embalming turned Ritter’s stomach. And it raised Ritter’s fear of getting bogged down in the death business, when he wanted to move on to new projects — building, mining, inventing, all sorts of possibilities.

“You don’t like the idea,” Ream said, assessing Ritter’s expression.

“Oh, I suppose I’ll get used to it. Have to think if we have enough space, and there’s the question of, ah — drainage, I guess you’d call it. Anyway, we’d have to examine the question carefully.”

“Of course, Andy. Not a foregone conclusion. Maybe we could make it work. Remember that most embalming is done in the home.”

“All right.”

As Ritter watched his business partner leave, he muttered, “Take a deep breath, Andy. Maybe you’ll enjoy bleeding corpses like stuck pigs.”

**********************

Each day, Samael worked hard, and Ritter worked hard, and at the end of the day they said good night with a kiss and an embrace, and the younger man stayed downstairs, and the older man went upstairs. But the kisses were starting to linger and deepen, and the embraces were lasting several minutes. Finally Ritter would say, “Off to bed with you now, young scalawag,” and release Samael, forcing himself not to look back.

Two weeks into their new routine, Ritter said, “Sammy, I’ve got a G.A.R. meeting tonight. Don’t wait up. These things go on till all hours.”

“What do you all do at these meetings?”

“Well, we raise a little money for charity, we raise a little money for erecting statues and monuments to the glorious dead, and we spend a lot of time drinking and singing and misremembering what we all did in the war.”

“Sounds like you’re not too keen on it.”

“Oh, the charity is worthwhile, helping out vets who have fallen on hard times, or widows or orphans. But there’s a lot of blather. And the uniforms! I wish we’d had such pretty uniforms during the fighting! But they would have got awfully muddy. Most of the fellows are all right. Some of them have fond memories of the war. I don’t entirely share their enthusiasm.”

“The important thing is the charity, then. You’re a good man, Mister Ritter.”

Leaning forward and smiling, Ritter corrected him: “You’re a good man, Andy.”

Samael grinned and looked down. “Yes, Mister Andy, sir.”

After they closed up shop, Ritter donned his uniform and said his farewells to Samael, who said, “You look really good in that uniform.”

“Why, thank you, Sammy. Appearances are deceiving, are they not? A uniform like this can make almost any old reprobate look respectable.”

“I was thinking more about how handsome you look.”

Ritter laid one hand on Samael’s cheek, holding his gaze for a moment before saying, “How you talk, you young whippersnapper!”

Watching Ritter depart, Samael whispered, “I’m evil. I’ll never change. I can’t help it. I want more than a kiss.”

***************************

Ritter steadied his wobbly stance in the doorway. “Sammy!” he called.

“It’s so late!” Samael appeared in his nightshirt, rubbing his eyes.

“Home at last! Home at last! I apologize for the lateness of my — of the hour. My commaroons — ah, comrades would not hear of me departing even a minute earlier. Would not hear of it. Not so much as a minute. Would you be so kind as to help me cake off my tote? Take off my coat? I’m a little the worse for wear.”

“You’re just drunk, Andy. Set down and let me help you.” Samael guided Ritter to a chair and took his coat and hat.

“You’re a good boy, Sammy.” Ritter did not sit. He listed to the left. “I need to piss.”

“Yessir.”

Ritter turned a bleary eye to Samael. “You’ll still be here when I get back?”

“Of course. You’re just going to the outhouse, aincha?”

Ritter tried to focus on the back door. After a moment, he said, “Right. The outhouse. How right you are. How very right. You’re a good boy, Sammy. You’re a good friend.” He didn’t move.

Samael cleared his throat. “The outhouse, sir?”

Ritter raised his finger. “Right. Be right back.” He shuffled to the door and made his way out.

When he returned, his penis was hanging out of his trousers. “Sammy, I need help with this. Buttons, braces, damn things don’t work.”

“Maybe it’s time for bed, sir.”

“Maybe.” Ritter stumbled; Samael steadied him and held him upright. Holding each other, they rocked in place, in time to the song Ritter sang with slurred words:

“Mine eyes have seen the glory of the pissing of my cock.

I have taught it to sit up and beg, but not yet how to talk.

I will tie a rope around it when I take it for a walk.

My cock would like it fine.

Glory, glory hallelujah.

It would really love to screw ya.

Glory, glory, what’s it to ya?

My cock would like it fine.”

Samael started to lead him upstairs. But Ritter shushed him and began the next verse in hushed tones.

“Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of my cock.

It will fit into a fuck-hole like a key into a lock.

But to find someone who wants to suck it comes as quite a shock.

My cock would like it—“

Ritter panted. His lower lip pushed out in a pout. “But I don’t have anyone who wants to suck it.”

Samael smiled his small, faint smile. “You have me.”

Ritter’s eyebrows rose. “You?”

Wrapping his hand around Ritter’s cock, Samael answered, “Me.”

Ritter looked down at Samael’s hand on his stiffening shaft. He fell forward, his lips crashing down on Samael’s. After a sloppy, off-center kiss, Samael knelt and took Ritter’s cock into his mouth.

Ritter sighed deeply. “Oh, holy Hell! Holy Hell and all the poor devils down in it!” He stroked Samael’s hair. “You know that we’re going to join them because of this, don’t you? That we’ll be joining all the poor little devils in Hell?”

Samael released Ritter’s cock and looked up with a puzzled expression. Ritter pouted again and said, “Well, I didn’t tell you to stop!”

Samael smiled and returned to the task at hand.