The Undertaker's Devil - 3. Visits in the Afternoon and Confessions in the Night

Early in the morning, Ritter lay awake, listening for any small sound. He heard the soft click of the front doorknob and wondered if that was Samael leaving for good, a thought which filled him with relief and sadness.

But not long afterward the door opened again. Ritter rose and looked downstairs. Samael was carrying a small bag and what looked like a bundle of rags.

“What’s that, Sammy?”

Startled, Samael clutched the bundle tight. “Oh, I left my things by one of the livery stables. Thought I’d better go get them. Some clothes and a few odds and ends is all. Forgot about them yesterday. I’ll put them in my room and get the stove started.”

“Fine. I wondered if you had any better clothes.”

Samael looked stricken. “No, what I’m wearing is the best I got.”

Ritter fought the urge to rush down and put a reassuring arm around him. “Well, Sammy, that won’t do. Let’s go buy you a few things today. I’ll pay. And how about a bath and a haircut? And maybe a shave, unless you’ve decided to stop shaving?”

Samael grinned. “I wish I could grow a beard like yours.”

Ritter chuckled as he descended the stairs. “You will. Give it time. Don’t be in too much of a hurry to imitate a broken-down old man.”

Now Samael laughed. “You’re not a broken-down old man. You’re real —” he pulled his voice back almost to a whisper, “handsome.”

“Good Lord, Sammy, no one’s ever called me that before.”

Samael looked up earnestly. “I don’t mean like what most people think of as handsome, like some actor on the stage or something. I mean, you look the way a man should look.”

Sammy-Sam, don’t say such things to me. I’m teetering on the edge of a cliff already and that’s enough to knock me clean off. “Anyway, a few new clothes, and definitely a bath and a haircut. Just a short stroll away. If you’re going to work here, we have to have you looking presentable.”

“I’ll pay you back when I can. And now I’ll get the stove going. I still had a little money, so I got some eggs and bread on the way so's I can make us some breakfast.”

“That will be very welcome, Sammy, but try not to spoil me too much. And you don’t need to pay me back for the clothes. It’s a business expense.”

The clothes were nothing fine or expensive, except for the boots, on which Ritter splurged a bit. The bath was an unaccustomed extravagance for Samael. And after a haircut, and a shave on the sparsest areas of his face, leaving the chin whiskers and a beginner’s mustache, and in clean, new, well-fitting clothes, a young man emerged from the scruffy overgrown boy.

Ritter thought, Careful, Pygmalion. Bill told you to keep this on a business footing and that’s what you’re going to do. But Ritter found it hard, very hard, to tear his eyes away from his protégé.

While Ritter was beaming, Samael was oddly subdued. All he would say was, “You didn’t have to do all this. It’s too much.”

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

There was plenty of work Ritter could use to distract himself. He had sent for his finish carpenter, Joe Corbin, to work on the mouldings for the grand Gird house. Corbin arrived when Ritter and Samael were going through the stock of lumber, the younger man quickly sorting boards of like dimensions into piles.

A small, dark, crow-like man, Corbin immediately joined in the sorting, quickly pulling out what he needed for the Gird job. As Ritter wandered off to other matters requiring his attention, Corbin said to Samael, “I’m glad you’re here. Andy is a good man, but he’s a big picture man. He thinks the details will take care of themselves. That’s where we come in. You and I both know the devil is in the details.”

“Why do you say that? What’s the devil got to do with it?” Samael seemed a bit alarmed.

“Just an expression,” Corbin reassured him. “I only meant that the difficulties often lie in the little things.”

“Oh,” Samael said sheepishly. “I thought you meant — never mind.”

Corbin needed a few things from the storeroom Samael had reorganized. When Corbin saw it, he whistled. “This was such a jumble. If you only knew how much time I’ve spent over the last year stumbling around in here, looking for a bracket or a nail. I think you’re going to be very good for Andy.”

Samael looked away, his brows knitted and his lips pulled into a tight line. Corbin, oblivious, continued loading supplies into his wagon and was soon gone.

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

Ritter was busy all day, talking to customers, ordering supplies, and doing paperwork. He noticed that Samael was staying out of his way except for insisting that Ritter break for a quick lunch, which Samael bought with money Ritter gave him (too much money, Samael thought) and brought back to the shop.

Even during their lunch break, Ritter found the young man quiet, his glance evasive. He was on the point of asking him what was wrong when Ream arrived.

“Andy! Any fallout from yesterday? Visitors with anything to say?”

Ritter shook his head. “Not worth mentioning. Nobody who’s about to do anything foolish.”

At that moment they saw Ike Clanton across the street, looking at their establishment.

“Wonder what he wants,” Ritter said.

“I hear he’s filing murder charges against the Earps,” Ream replied. “Maybe he’s looking for people to back him up.”

“Well, I don’t think it was right, what was done, but I’m not about to be his best friend in court.”

Samael glanced at Ike Clanton and walked to the back of the shop.

Clanton walked across the street and crossed the undertakers’ threshold. He addressed both men. “I want you to know I appreciate what you done for my brother and the McLaury boys. Gave them some dignity at the last,” he said.

“Just our duty,” Ritter said. “And you have our condolences.”

Clanton nodded. He hesitated, then said, “That boy Sam, is he here?”

Ritter breathed in and drew himself up. “Yes, he is.”

“I got no objection.” Clanton raised his palms. “But, uh… I think you should know, that boy is a jinx if ever there was one. Bad things follow him like buzzards follow a dying man.”

“He’s just a boy,” Ream said quickly, maybe to prevent Ritter from responding.

“Maybe. Maybe so,” Clanton said quietly. “Afternoon, gentlemen.” He turned and left.

“That was a little strange,” Ream said.

“I find it hard to believe that Ike Clanton would give us a warning out of the goodness of his heart. I never knew him to do anything that wasn’t in his own interest, even if it was just spite.” Ritter’s voice had a bitter edge.

“Yes, spite maybe. Could be.” Ream stuck his hands in his pockets. “How’s the boy working out?”

“Fine. I barely give him two words of direction and he’s working his tail off, knows exactly what to do.”

“Good, good,” Ream said. “I see he has new clothes.”

“Yes, I bought him some. Can’t have customers seeing him in rags.”

“No, of course not.” Ream gave a slight grin. “As if a boy like that could jinx anything.”

“Ridiculous idea.”

“I don’t believe in jinxes anyway. Well, I’d best get moving.”

“Drop in any time. It’s your shop, too.”

“Now, Andy, I’m working just as hard as you. It’s just that the work I do is elsewhere.”

“I know. Just joshing.”

“I can spend more time here. If you were getting bored or, you know, lonely, here all day by yourself, I can be here more.”

Ritter smiled and gave Ream a sidelong glance. “Don’t worry about Sammy. I do not need a chaperone.”

Ream sighed. “If you say so.”

“I do say so.”

“I don’t mind you cleaning him up a little. Looks good. Less like a stray dog now. Even looks a little older, like he can take care of himself.”

“Bill, he could always take care of himself. He’ll stay as long as he needs to, and he’ll be off when he’s ready.”

“Right, right.”

Ream left. The rest of the afternoon and evening passed with little incident. Samael still had little to say.

They dined out again. Sammy yawned and said how tired he was. Ritter expressed the same sentiment, and back at the shop they turned in not long after dark.

An hour later, Ritter heard soft sounds downstairs. He opened his door silently and saw Samael moving through the hall. Ritter called to him, “Sammy. Wait.” Samael stopped, and Ritter lit a lantern and came downstairs.

Samael was dressed in his old clothes. He was carrying his bundle of rags. “Where are you off to, Sammy?”

“I just — I can’t — ” Samael stammered. “I better go, Mister Ritter, sir.”

“Sammy, I thought we were starting to be friends. I even finally got you to call me Andy. Tell me what’s wrong.”

“You been real good to me, Mister Ritter. And I really like you a lot.”

“I like you too, Sammy.”

“I don’t want anything bad to happen to you. That’s why I have to go.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Cause — cause what Ike Clanton said is true. I’m a jinx. I have to leave before something happens.”

“What are you talking about?”

Samael started to cry. “Everywhere I go, the people I love die. Every single time. If I love them, they die.”

Ritter’s heart ached for the young man. “Sammy, the gunfight wasn’t your fault. It’s not because of you that Billy is dead. You put that idea right out of your head.”

“It’s not just him,” Samael said. “My family, everybody I tried to be around, they all ended up dead. My daddy was in General Grant’s army at Vicksburg. He died the day I was born. The very same day.”

“Sam, that is a regrettable coincidence.”

“And then when I was ten my mama and my brother and sisters all died of fever.”

“Lots of people die of fever. You didn’t make the fever happen.”

“But before that, my mama was talking to a preacher. She told him my name, how it was supposed to be Samuel but somebody made a mistake and wrote Samael. And he told her that maybe it wasn’t a mistake, because Samael is the name of the Angel of Death.”

Ritter shuddered but said, “It’s just a name.”

“And my aunt and uncle who took me in after Mama died, they drowned a year later. Then a man took me on to work at his farm and all his animals got sick and he couldn’t pay his bills and he killed himself.”

“Now listen. Those things are sad, and they are terrible, but they are not your fault.”

“I think they are. I think it’s because of the way I am.”

“What way?”

Samael hesitated. “You know, the way I was with Billy.”

Ritter felt a prickling sensation on the back of his neck. “You loved Billy, didn’t you?”

Samael nodded. “Now you’re gonna hate me.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Evil just leaks out of me, gets on everything.”

“I do not believe that for a second.”

“Preacher told me I was bad. Called me every name in the Good Book.”

After the briefest of pauses, they both erupted in laughter. Ritter couldn’t stop. “Every name in the Good Book,” he gasped. “Sammy, Sammy!” He put his arms around him. “You’ve confided in me and I’m honored by the privilege. I don’t agree with you, but I’m honored. And now I’ll confide in you. I had a dear friend once myself.”

“You did? What happened?”

“Oh, just what you might think. Disgrace, separation, heartbreak. And then he was killed in the war. And I know it was wrong, and it was a sin, and I’m going to Hell, but since he died I’ve been half-dead.” Ritter sighed. “I married and had a son, but it wasn’t the same, even before Emilie died.”

“Did you love your wife?”

“I was fond of her, but no, not like I felt about Ezekiel.”

“Did you ever have another dear friend?”

“No! No, it’s too dangerous. I can’t risk the condemnation of the world again.”

Samael slowly passed his fingers over the front of Ritter’s nightshirt. “What if we just didn’t tell anyone?”

Ritter breathed in deeply as his heart raced. “Sammy, I’m far too old for you.”

“No you’re not,” Samael replied, fingers moving up to Ritter’s beard. “You’re perfect.” He stopped, doubt crossing his face. “But you have to promise me not to die.”

“Cross my heart and hope to live,” Ritter said, and kissed Samael. “I swore I wasn’t going to let this happen.” Samael’s head dropped, and Ritter lifted his chin so that they were looking into each other’s eyes. “But I suppose I was bound for Hell anyway.” They kissed again.

“Maybe,” Ritter offered, “we could just be friends, and kiss sometimes like this, without crossing over into full-blown sodomy.”

Samael knitted his brows. “If that’s what you want.”

“I think it would be best. Maybe if I can stop there, that will be my penance and my redemption. And no more of this nonsense about you leaving for my sake. Now let's get you back to your room.” There Ritter saw that Samael had neatly folded his new clothes and left them on the rope bed. “You were going to leave those? Didn’t you like them?”

“Of course I like them,” Samael laughed. “They make me feel grown-up.”

“You are grown up. You are a handsome young man,” Ritter said. “I know I keep calling you ‘boy,’ and I’m sorry.”

Samael grinned. “I don’t mind if you call me ‘boy’ once in a while. You know, when we’re alone.”

Ritter raised an eyebrow. “Mister Higgins, you’re not fighting fair. You’re bringing out the heavy artillery on my weak flank. Now you’re going to bed and I’m going upstairs to bed before I do something I’ll regret.”