Boundaries: An Old West Tale - 3. Chapter 3 Skunk Mean

Skunk Mean

The much-bigger Lucas had his fingers gripping the back of Wyatt’s neck like he was some vicious cur what needed punishing, cruelly pushing his head down in front of the bar. His gun was drawn as well, and the fact he was waving it around carelessly worried Virgil something fierce. He couldn’t see Wyatt’s face, but expected he was both scared and shamed at being bullied in front of the other men in the saloon.

Murray was on his side of the bar, not saying anything for the moment, but he was glaring hard at the larger man. The seated customers were spectators, watching with interest. He counted seven men in all, with Lottie nowhere in sight. As furious as he was, he decided to listen before he acted. Going off half-cocked wouldn’t do Wyatt no good no how, and as calm as he might appear on the outside, it weren’t the same in his innards. Guns could go off all on their own… he’d seen it happen plenty.

“You running his errands and yapping to him in his room?” Lucas’s loud, angered voice asked. “What you telling him, boy? You giving him information where our herds are hidden, or are you courting him up there like some saloon whore?”

Virgil couldn’t see the man’s eyes, but he sounded plumb crazy… and drunk. Drunk men were dangerous, so he got ready.

“Answer me! You letting that Mexican-lover know how many men are in town, or where would be best to strike next? A fellow could make some quick money for that kind of information, couldn’t they? Yep, they surely could, so you tell me what you’ve been speaking about.”

Wyatt tried pulling away from the man’s grip without success, and his voice was hoarse when he attempted to answer. The sound of it riled Virgil further. “How… how would I know… how could I know where best to strike next? You’re one of them what works the cattle, not me! I got no clue where cattle are, or even what ranches are where or what they be storing, and I ain’t got no horse to go looking either. Ain’t had a horse to ride outside the livery field in two years now, and you all know that.” He tried again to twist from the man’s grip, but the cold steel now pressed against his neck stopped the fight in him.

“I ought to shoot you dead right here. I think I will, and then I’m going to shoot him what’s up those stairs. What you been saying to him then? All that time up there in that room with him, just the two of you, you must be talking ‘bout something.” Spit was flying from the man’s mouth, but Virgil paid close attention to his words and the emotion behind them. He was revealing some interesting cards.

“Nothing. I ain’t said nothing. I was only getting his bath ready ‘cause that’s my job, so leave me be. I told you I wouldn’t talk, and I ain’t, not a word, so just leave me be. You got no right!”

“Leave him alone, Lucas. Go home and sober up before you get yourself in real trouble,” the barkeep warned.

“You shut your mouth, Murray. Wyatt and me ain’t done our little talk. Leave you be, boy? I’ll leave you be when I’m good and ready. You must be saying something. What did I tell you about running your mouth off? You want to be in a grave next to your ma, cause that’s where you’re headed, you noisy little bastard. Won’t take much for your head to get split open like hers, no sir.”

Noisy? Virgil had heard enough. There was no doubt in his mind Lucas was the bull, the one who had beaten Wyatt senseless after using him in such an ugly way. He moved halfway down the stairs and stopped. His gun was drawn and cocked.

“Let him go, Lucas,” he ordered, his eyes focused only on him now.

The man’s head spun his way, and then so did his gun. “You mind your own business, Mexican, cause I got a bullet for you, too.”

“The way your arm’s shaking, I’m pretty sure you‘d miss, but I guarantee I won’t. Now, let that man go. You’ve done him enough damage already, don’t you think?”

“What do you mean?” he asked, his voice raising in pitch. “What did this little whore tell you? I ain’t done him no damage.”

“Sure you have. Got no use for a man who would do what you did.”

“I… I don’t know what you’re talking ‘bout.” The man was getting plenty nervous as his gaze swept the men at the tables, and that suited Virgil fine.

“All right, let’s pretend you don’t… then let the boy go and you won’t need to die. I suggest you walk away while you still can.” Virgil knew he was vexing the man, but as long as the gun was pointed at him, Wyatt was in no danger. “Funny thing, what a man says sometimes. What makes you think there be someone making money from feeding information to those rustlers? Has anyone else thought such a thing?”

“What are you asking me for?” Lucas asked with an ugly snarl twisting his face.

“What were you asking Wyatt for? He’s not the one with the knowledge of farms or herds or ranches around here. Like he tried to tell all of you, he has no means to travel outside this town, so how would he know anything at all? How would he know all the stuff you do, or have a way to pass information along? Wouldn’t that take someone who could ride long distances and be gone a long time? Who in Matador Hill fits that description is what I’d be asking… if this were my town.”

The man’s eyes narrowed before he looked around the saloon. This was not how he expected this to go, and it showed. “I only know as much as these men here, or anyone else in town.” His defensiveness told Virgil he was on the right track.

One man spoke up. “That ain’t exactly the truth, is it Lucas? We’ve been speculating a while now that the raiders have knowledge they shouldn’t, and they must be getting it somewhere. Else, how do you explain them riding past the Wilson farm where there weren’t no grain stored, and going to the Hammerstrom place where there was plenty. Only a few of us had knowledge of that grain being moved, and we had lookouts for when we did it. They had four wagons that night, so they knew what was there. So did you.”

“You accusing me of something?” Lucas asked, clearly riled to a dangerous level.

“I weren’t finished,” the man responded calmly. “Fact is, you’re the one delivering supplies—feed and tools and such—to every farm for miles around. Ain’t no one else does that, and you’ve been doing it since before the raiding started. Truth be told, you’re gone from town plenty, and nobody ever knows where you be or when you’ll be back. We all got us families to answer to, but you don’t, and you’re awful tight-lipped when questions get asked. Willie Coleman asked you why you crossed the Rio Grande a ways back, and you swore up and down it weren’t you, but he said you was lying. Still says it. He knows you and he knows the gait of your saddle horse. I reckon maybe we should have believed him?”

“You shut your damn mouth, Simpson. Coleman was the one lying.” Lucas’s gun now moved in that man’s direction, and Virgil heard the clicks of two guns being cocked. Then a third.

Lucas must have heard them too, and his panic-filled eyes found their way back to Virgil. “You son-of-a-bitch. You got no right accusing me.”

“I didn’t accuse you of anything, but you sure are looking guilty for a man who ain’t done nothing. Truth is, I don’t know you and I don’t want to know you, but the people in this town do, so it’s them you need to convince. My only concern is you be threatening a friend of mine, someone who has taken your abuse plenty and ain’t done a damn thing to deserve it. So I’m telling you again. Let him go.”

“I ain’t letting nobody go, you—” He swung his aim back to Virgil and shot mid-sentence, but Virgil was ready for the move, twisting and firing at the same time. A bullet hit the railing behind him, but his bullet found its intended mark. Lucas wailed, dropped his gun, and then fell to his knees clutching at his right shoulder. Virgil reckoned that arm would be useless for a long time to come, but he was more concerned about Wyatt. The man backed away from his bloodied tormenter, and then turned towards him looking plenty shook.

“Are you hit?” he asked Virgil with a fearful voice.

“No, but the bannister is,” he answered with a grin, feeling terrible sorry for his friend.

As Wyatt moved toward him, three men were suddenly standing over Lucas. Simpson was the one to do the talking.

“It was you that helped them, wasn’t it?”

Lucas had laid back on the floor, writhing in pain as blood seeped from his wound, turning his sand-colored shirt bright red. “No, of course not. I—”

Simpson’s boot came down hard on his injured shoulder, causing blood to spurt across the floor. “It was you! I know it was, so tell the truth or the next bullet’s going to blast a hole clean through your rotten heart.” His foot twisted, and Lucas screamed loud enough to wake the dead.

“All right, all right, stop! Please stop… it was me… but they made me… they threatened they would… burn my business down and kill me. They followed me… put a rope round my neck, I swear. Said they would string me up… after they sliced… my belly open.” His confession came in gasping breaths, but no one in the bar cared a whit.

“When did they do this?”

“Couple… years back. I had no choice, I tell ya. Y’all would have… done the same—”

“All Mexicans?”

“Yes… no… not all… some were white…leader was white, and… there was at least one who was Injun. Never saw all of them… kept their kerchiefs up… but there was a lot…had no choice,” he repeated, howling as Simpson’s boot moved again.

“Did you tell them what direction our posses were headed when they went out?”

“I… just one time… figured with their numbers, it would save some of us… getting killed.”

“One time, eh? I don’t believe you. And I reckon they paid you for telling them our plans?”

Lucas didn’t answer the question, but he looked away from the men standing above him.

“Did you go deaf? I asked you a fucking question! Did they pay you?”

“Not much, I swear. I… I can help you get them… I know things what—”

He screamed as the man’s boot twisted once more. “Don’t ever say again we would have done same as you, you greedy fucking coward. You’ve always been a greedy sumbitch, and you sold us out. You sold this whole town out for some money and your safety, so you’re going to get that hanging after all, and we might even slit your belly open first.”

One of the other men spit on Lucas, his disgust clear. “I would never have done what you did. My brother and his two boys died because of you, so you can bet I’ll be at your hanging, if folks let you live that long. I’m going for the sheriff so we can get this bag of shit locked up.”

“I need the doc,” Lucas cried out.

“Doc needs his rest,” the man answered while walking away.

“We’ll watch him,” Simpson said, keeping his boot right where it was. He turned his head toward Virgil. “We owe you our gratitude, mister. You saw what we couldn’t, and I thank you for it. The whole town will thank you for it.”

“I don’t need any thanks. Happy to help is all.” His attention was still set on Wyatt.

Murray spoke next, looking relieved his worker’s ordeal was over. “I need a shot of whiskey. Y’all need a shot of whiskey? It’s on the house. Boys?” He gestured to the other four men still seated. They all nodded, and Murray started pouring.

“None for me right now. Maybe later,” Virgil responded, still watching Wyatt. He was too quiet and that gave him concern. Could be he’d just been listening to Lucas’s confession, but his posture said something different. “I reckon I need to get my mare settled for the night… she’ll be needing a drink for sure, and some feed. Wyatt? Would you walk with me, over to the livery? You know your way around if Bill ain’t there.”

Wyatt’s eyes swiveled his way before turning to Murray. “Go with him, lad. A walk will do you good after what just happened. I reckon the sheriff will want to talk to you, Virgil.”

“I expect he’ll want to talk to both of us, so we’ll be quick. You coming?” he asked the younger man. “It’s fine if you’d rather wait here.”

Wyatt’s gaze was focused on the injured, whining Lucas when he answered. “Yep, I’ll come. Seen enough,” he answered with a disgusted edge to his voice. His shoulders had squared up, something Virgil was glad to see, and he walked past the injured man without another glance.

The sun was close to down when they led his mare down the street. A lot more people were out than when he arrived, and he could tell there was some excited talking going on. He heard Lucas’s name as well as ‘that stranger’, but ignored them all. Word traveled fast in Matador Hill, and here was proof of it.

“He was the one, wasn’t he,” Virgil said.

“What?” Wyatt seemed different again, like something bigger than Lucas had him troubled.

“Lucas. He was the one you told me about. The one who kicked you when he was done using you for his pleasure. The bull who said you were too noisy.”

Wyatt glanced at him sideways. “You figured that out?”

“Weren’t hard. Could hear the jealousy in his voice.”

“Jealousy?” He stopped walking, looking like he’d just been smacked hard. “What are you talking ‘bout?”

“I’m talking about he hated you spent time with me. I suspect he has love for you.”

Wyatt scoffed as he moved forward again. “I don’t see that a’tall… you don’t know him.”

“Don’t know him, no, but I heard him plain, and I understand men. He might not have guts enough to let hisself want you, but he didn’t want anyone else to have you either. If he’s made partly like us, then it’s easy to understand him loving you. You’re as pretty a man as I’ve ever seen… from head to hoof.”

Wyatt halted once more, and there was just the slightest smile on his surprised face. “You truly mean such talk?”

“Never say what I don’t mean.”

Wyatt frowned as he looked him in the eye. He took a few seconds. “No, I don’t believe you would, and… I surely appreciate you saying so, but Lucas ain’t nothing like you… or me, and it’s a confounding thought to believe he held any kind of love for me.”

“Maybe so, but trust me… I know he does, just like I knew he had something to hide about them rustlers.”

“And just how in blazes did you figure that out? I still can’t believe he would do such a thing, but you got him to confess it plain.”

“Simpson got him to admit what he done.”

“After you showed ‘em all who he was. How did you even know?”

“Same way I knew you were made like me the minute I saw you up on the second floor. I pay attention.”

“You knew that then?”

“When I looked in your eyes, I felt what was familiar. I told you, same knows same, even at a distance. As far as Lucas, he was accusing you of what he was guilty of. Folks have a habit of doing such, especially when they’re riled and they’ve had a good share of whiskey.”

“He did accuse me of all that stuff, didn’t he?”

“Yep, and he showed his feeling when he called you a whore. Weren’t no reason to do so, not if he didn’t feel powerful jealous.”

“Suppose that does makes some sense.”

“Did it bother you to see him shot like that?”

Virgil got another one of those disbelieving looks from the man. “I admit I don’t like seeing a man’s blood, but I didn’t feel one bit of sorrow it was his. He’s responsible for the deaths of folks I knew.”

“You must have had feelings for him once.”

A long sigh came first. “I was a fool who wanted the attention he gave me, that’s all it be… so I ignored what I knew about him. I can say honest I never had any deep feelings for Lucas, unless we’re talking hate. I was lonely all the time, and bullying was something I was used to. I… I never offered myself. Are you hearing me?”

“I am, and I understand that need for belonging somewhere better than you might expect. We all need attention… are you hearing me?”

Wyatt nodded after a short time. “I can see you understood my words.”

“Good. As far as what happened back at the saloon, you were smart to point out you didn’t have a horse. That got those other men paying attention. Any fool could see what he was saying didn’t make a lick of sense, and that’s when I pointed some things out. It got him panicking so he showed his hand, and then those men put the pieces together. It weren’t your fault he got shot. He decided what was going to happen.”

“I know, and I thank you for saving my life. Sure was worried his bullet found you, though.”

“He weren’t even close. Not sure I did save you, but we’ll never know what he might have done.”

“They’re going to hang him.”

“That bother you?”

“Gives me peace, to be truthful.”

“Right pleased you feel that way. I’m not sure I’m right, but I think he had a hand in your ma’s death. He sure sounded like he knew something about it. Might be he wanted to get close to you, and that was his way to do it.”

Wyatt nodded. “Had my suspicions for a time… after that night. It was after her funeral he started talking to me. He followed me places and said kind things, and was always putting his arm around me. Something else I noticed… he smelled powerful strong of smoke the morning after my house burnt to the ground.”

“That don’t surprise me none. He’s a bad one for sure, and now he’s going to pay the price.”

“After that night he took me, he talked plenty about Mexicans being bad folk, but he’s admitted some of them rustlers, killers, and thieves were white folk. He knew this whole damn time and still blamed it all on my people.”

“Yep, he did, but now the whole town knows the truth.”

“They won’t change, though.”

“Likely not, shameful as it be.” He reached over and clasped Wyatt’s shoulder for a moment, and received a sigh and a nod in return.