The Undertaker's Devil - 11. Pulled in a Dozen Directions

October, 1884

“Andy, you gotta eat something.” Samael stood in the doorway of the upstairs bedroom, holding a bowl of stew.

“No appetite.” Ritter buried himself further under the blankets. “Just need a little more sleep.”

“You slept all day yesterday, and now half the day today. Mister Ream came by to see you, and I couldn’t wake you up.”

“Probably wants me back on the campaign trail.”

“Well, if running for county treasurer is going to wear you out, sending you all over from Willcox to Sand Spring, making you sick, I wish you’d give it up. It’s not worth it.”

“I’ve got to do it, Sammy. I need the money.”

Samael sighed impatiently. “You start building a big expensive house, and then you say you’re short of money.”

“Don’t badger me, Sammy. You know I’m building it for my son. I’ve got to get it finished before he gets here next summer.”

“You’re gonna work yourself to death.” Samael walked into the room, set the stew down, and started picking up small things and rearranging them, as he always did when he was worried. “You can’t keep going full tilt when you’re sick.”

“It’s just rheumatism.”

“You know that’s not what it is. You’ve been sick ever since Doc Holliday was here. You get fevers and you cough all the time.”

Ritter coughed. “Not all the time, Sammy. Just sometimes.”

Samael rubbed his forehead and continued more softly. “You promised me you wouldn’t die.”

“Oh, now, this is not a showboat melodrama. I am not going to die.”

“You better not, or I’ll haunt you.”

Ritter managed a weak laugh. “I think it’s the dead who haunt the living, not the other way around.”

“There’s always a first time. Now eat this stew.”

Ritter pulled the blanket down a bit and looked at Samael. “Make you a deal.”

“What’s that?”

“Rub my shoulders for a few minutes, the way you do, and I’ll eat the stew.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

“You’re not trying to distract me? You know how shoulder rubs lead to other things.”

“My word of honor, for what it’s worth.”

Samael started rubbing Ritter’s shoulders. “I don’t trust you one bit.”

“Nor should you. A little lower, please.”

“Just what I thought.”

By the time Ritter got around to the stew, it needed to be re-heated.

********

By the time Ream returned, Ritter had pulled himself together enough to plan campaign strategy with him. Samael hovered nearby with coffee.

“I really think you’ll win if you can just get over to Willcox and Mammoth,” Ream said.

Ritter passed a hand over his eyes. “All right. I’ll make it.”

Samael refilled Ream’s coffee cup. “What’s so good about being county treasurer?”

“It pays well, Sam.” Ream gulped his coffee. “The treasurer is also the county tax collector, and he keeps a percentage of the tax he collects.”

“Sounds like a lot of work.”

“Don’t worry, Sammy,” Ritter said. “I can hire assistants.”

“I think we’ve got your schedule pretty well nailed down, Andy,” Ream said. “You’ve got a few men waiting outside to see you, if you want to go on to talk to them.”

“Lord, who is it?”

“There’s Frank Moore and that MacNeil fellow out there to talk to you about the mine you three own, you know, the one that’s been having flooding problems?”

“I thought all those expensive pumps solved that last year.”

“Not entirely, apparently. Who would have guessed that we’d have flooding problems in the middle of the desert?”

“Dry as dust Tombstone, sitting on an underground lake.”

“And Peter Hook is out there, said something about a saloon for sale that he thinks you two should buy. And there’s someone from the cemetery committee.”

“That should keep me busy.”

Samael refilled Ritter’s cup. “And tonight you’ve got an A.O.U.W. meeting.”

“I thought it was the Masons tonight.”

“No, that’s tomorrow.”

“Well, I’d better go out there.”

As soon as Ritter exited the store, Joe Corbin pushed forward among the milling men. “Andy, I’m trying as best I can to keep going on your house, but we really need you on site to make a few decisions about how you want it.”

“All right, all right, I’ll be out there directly.”

Then the rest of the men descended on Ritter with questions and demands. He answered most of them briefly, then allowed Corbin to lead him away after he called back into the shop, “Sammy, I’ll probably go straight to the meeting after I look at the house. Don’t wait up.”

********

Ritter looked over the plans with Corbin on a makeshift table – a board on two sawhorses – at the site of his new house. They discussed a few adjustments and clarified some points. Robbie Crooks swept sawdust and picked up debris nearby.

“And who’s this young man?” Ritter asked.

“You remember Robbie Crooks,” Corbin mumbled.

“Oh, of course. Helped when we were building the courthouse. I hardly recognized you, Robbie. You’ve sprouted like a weed.”

Robbie paused and flashed Ritter a smile, the kind of smile he never flashed to Corbin. “Yes, sir, Mister Ritter.”

“How’s he doing?” Ritter asked Corbin.

“Just fine. He’s got a good eye for plumb and level.”

“Don’t try to do it all by eye, now, Robbie. If you need another level or any other kind of tool, you two let me know.”

“Yes, sir.”

“How old are you now, Robbie?”

“Sixteen, sir.”

“Joe, who else have we got working here?”

Corbin filled Ritter in on the help he had hired. Robbie’s eyes drifted down Ritter’s frame before he stirred himself back to work.

********

Samael squeezed himself through the narrow passage to a tiny office in Hoptown. “Hello, Mary.”

China Mary greeted Samael with her usual broad smile. “Sammy! Everything good?”

“Yeah, everything’s fine. I wondered if you could get me some more of that medicine for Andy.”

“Still sick? Cough?”

“Yeah, and he’s tired all the time. Working too hard.”

China Mary smiled slyly. “Don’t wear him out, Sammy.”

Samael blushed. “It’s not like that. He really is working a lot, way too hard.”

“OK. I can get medicine. Any time for you. You still work for him?”

“Oh, yes. The less time he spends at the business, the harder I have to work, but it’s all right. We’ve got a few other people we can call on sometimes.”

“You can work for me any time.”

“So you keep saying.” Samael grinned in embarrassment.

“Andy good to you?”

“Real good, Mary. It’s just that there are all these people tugging at his sleeve to do a million different things.”

“You take care of him. I know. I like him. Even if he is Anti-Chinese League.”

“I know. I don’t agree with him about that. We argue about it, but I don’t get anywhere. Mostly he wants to make sure working men’s wages don’t get cut. People are afraid of competition.”

“Nobody want to hire Chinese if they can get white men. I know.”

“I understand his point. Those men have families to support.”

“So do Chinese. Send money back to China. No wife here. Oriental Exclusion Act.” China Mary spat on the floor.

“Yeah, Mary, I don’t agree with it, but there’s nothing I can do about it.”

“Never mind. We go get medicine.”

“Thanks, Mary.”

********

Back at home, Samael worked on another landscape under Corbin’s tutelage while Ritter attended his meeting.

“You’re turning into a fine artist, Sammy.”

“It’s about time some of it sunk in. You been teaching me for two years now.”

“Hey, isn’t it about time you got some new clothes? You’re still wearing the same suit Andy bought you when you started. Your sleeves and pants are too short.”

“Andy keeps wanting to take me out to buy clothes, but there never seems to be the time. Anyway, what I’m wearing still has a lot of wear left in it. Don’t want to throw it away.”

“I know someone that your clothes would probably fit, when you get around to buying something new. Young feller, not much money, might appreciate it.”

“Who’s that?”

“Robbie. You remember.”

With a faint smile, Samael shook his head. “Yeah, I remember. I don’t like the way he looks at Andy.”

Corbin started putting away his pencils and chalks. “I don’t like it either.”

********

Ike Clanton sat at the bar. He had been drinking all day, as he often had for years, and was now thoroughly soused. “Another one, Jack.”

Jack Davis, the bartender, took Ike’s empty glass and did not return it. “I think you’ve had enough.”

“I’ll tell you when I’ve had enough.”

“I thought you said you were taking off for your ranch at noon. Noon’s come and gone, Ike.”

“Just want a drink while I spend a few minutes looking over this worthless hole of a town. I like to remind myself that I’m not missing anything. No reason not to. Earps have all scattered like cockroaches.”

“Yep. No scores for you to settle here. You’re better off up north in Springville.”

“Hell of a lot better off than here. Hundred and sixty acres each for Phin and me. But I still have one or two scores to settle here. Give me a drink, Jack.”

Davis sighed. “Last one. Then you hit the road.” He poured Clanton a small whisky. “What score you got left to settle?”

“Nothing much.” Ike sipped his whisky. “Just one little pipsqueak who started it all.” Ike finished off his drink. “Yep, I didn’t know it then, but everything started to go to shit when he started in on Billy. Ruined him.”

“Billy’s been buried three years, Ike. Let it go. Earps didn’t really gain anything by it.”

Clanton stood and paid. “Not talking about the Earps. So long, Jack.” He walked unsteadily out the door.