Last Play at Coyote Holes
ONE
The Desolate Horizon
Blazing! Wild, untamed, the wind and earth fight, the endless dance of struggle and survival. We see the cycle of life in an exploding sunset.
The Mojave, hot, scorched, and barren, the searing, dry sun beating down on the land all the day and half the night. A teaming buzzing land with more insects than brains, cruel, and ready to eat the eyes out of your head. Neither man nor beast is safe from the half dozen different flies, which swarm this arid land. Survival of the fittest is commonplace here on the desert floor, a relentless fight for life.
The sunsets are spectacular but the land is vicious and without feeling, a hateful place to live and an even more horrible place to die. An unforgiving world, not even a coyote can slip up around these parts, every thing is food for something, that's a hard and fast rule. An innocent ride across the flats can end your life in a heartbeat, sudden death is a possibility here and any one who doesn't understand what I am saying is an out right fool.
I've lived here in this wonderful place for fifteen years, and I've grown use to it by now, I've found it to be a place of bounty and peace. You just have to follow the rules, do that and the land and the wild life are yours to enjoy.
I'm forty years of age now, I've been living in the dusty little town of Coyote Holes since I was twenty five. This was a choice I made while I was a drifter, contemplating a life of crime and delinquency. But the good folks here gave me a good job and have low these last few years been paying me a good wage to do this job. I'm the town marshal, Sam Goodfellow.
Not too bad a job as jobs go, I keep the peace and protect the towns interest, for this I get thirty dollars in gold every month and a place to live, the town jail. Not fabulous, and I am not living in the lap of luxury, but hey, I have a snug and cozy place for the rest of my days. I'm respected and everyone here is my friend and neighbor. I'm grateful for my lot in life.
Like I said this desert is a wonderful and dangerous place, beyond all compare you have to watch your self all the time here not only the land can put an end to you, but man, is the one thing here which can end your days abruptly. I have had countless bullets pulled out of me by the town doctor, more than I can count. I take the hit, recover and continue on, the desert is full of lawlessness.
It is 1850; the only law here is the Army, the Calvary, which will make an appearance once in a while. Mainly when they are escorting something important or chasing something for the government back in Washington. And me, I am the law within the limits of this little berg of sixty-five people, a little coach stop which receives travelers going north to south, east to west. We are an important place along the way.
I walked to the saloon this morning, seeking the coolness inside I passed the big red thermometer, which is near the entrance of the drinking establishment; one hundred six the red line read, a cruel lie. I would bet a month's wages that it was at least one hundred fifteen here abouts. I pushed my way through the swinging double doors. My eyes adjusted to the dim interior, I was thirsty for liquor and cool water. A good combination on a hot day like today, the ceiling fan was spinning making the place rather comfortable.
I pushed my way up to the bar and found my spot near the corner, "What will it be marshal?"
"A shot of the tough stuff and a glass of cold water, how have you been Frank?"
"Still breathing and I could see my self in the mirror this morning, so I guess I'm fine, you Sam?" He said with a little grin not trying to be funny.
"Doing just fine Frank can't complain."
All the while Frank was getting my drinks together, I noticed in the shadows of this smelly little tavern a saddle sore rough-hewn man to my right, eyeballing me with keen interest.
"You stink, like horse piss, yea I'm talking to you marshal, I know you hear me."
"I guess we have plenty of trouble coming and going around here all the time mister, but do you have to go out of your way to create a ruckus on such a hot day?" I said to the ill-mannered stranger who was now squaring off on me, about ten feet away.
"Shut up your yapping school boy and fight, horse piss you can hear me now can't ya?"
I had no choice but to deal this man the hand, which I figured he wanted a reputation or death. I thought I would change the final outcome a little, he was drunk and disorderly and not really deserving of a death sentence, so I walked over to the drunken drifter, pulled my pistol butt first and cracked him on top the head with it. With a loud thud, he hit the floor.
Big, dirty and smelly, I picked up the rude stranger and moved him to the door, then Frank and I took his drunken carcass down to the jail and locked his smelly, ill-mannered self in the cell until he sobered up. There is always some stupid drunken drifter who has a score to settle with the local law, always. I try not to kill all of them, just the ones who give me no choice. Compassion also comes with the badge.
I went back to the saloon and settled down with the cold drink and a smoke of my cigar, a few pleasures are afforded to a man; one is a drink of stiff alcohol and the other is a cigar. I love a good cigar, a rare commodity around this little town.
It was now noon, time to open the jail for business, you would be surprised what people would want of the marshal during the day, and my days were kept busy. I was curious as to what surprises the town had in store for me as I walked to the jail and unlocked the door.
Waiting for me on the chair out side my office was Helen Peabody, owner of the general store and assay office. She rose to greet me as I approached, she was dressed in her finest as always, and after all she was the richest person in town.
"Miss Peabody, may I be of assistance to you this fine morning?"
"First it's twelve thirty, second it is not a fine morning or otherwise, thieves have broken into my store room again and I want you to put an end to this pilfering. Marshal Goodfellow, it is your sworn responsibility to keep the people and their property safe here in Coyote Holes, you do realize that don't you?"
"Yes Helen I am very much aware of my responsibilities here in Coyote Holes, no man has a better grasp of his lot in life than me, I will examine the situation and try to remedy the problem. I'll be there in fifteen minutes or there abouts, now I have town business to look into and I have to file a report on your troubles."
I walked into the office leaving Ms. Peabody standing on the porch. She didn't move for a good five minutes. I began to deal with the little details, which makes the marshals office so tedious, horse reports and drunk reports and food rations for the prisoners and my self. Expense reports and a justification of my existence to the town elders, tax dollars had to be found to do things, which kept the town safe and livable. You would not think to look at it but the little town of Coyote Holes needed a lot of maintenance to keep it on the map. The city water supply for instance had to be protected at all costs, the well had to be dug deeper every year, and a storage tank had to be built to hold a reservoir of water during the dry season. A pump built and maintained and someone qualified to take care of all these things pertaining to the water and the well.
In the midst of all this little bureaucratic madness was me and my office, hired to protect all that had been accomplished here in this little insignificant speck of dust on the earth.
I had a normal routine everyday; most times, first thing in the morning, I went to the saloon for my breakfast, a drink and a cigar, then I went to the office and opened it for business for one hour. Then I went on my rounds and did the necessary investigations of reported crimes. Then I went back to the office and made out my reports around three, the hotel brings me my lunch along with the prisoner's food. I close the office around five and then take a nap. That's the routine, not a hard and fast thing, some days it changes a hair here and there. But basically, that's what my life looks like.
A rather simple life I have carved out for my self, seems so now doesn't it.
Around ten o'clock evening wise, I go out on my rounds, give the town a through going over, check the store doors and look in on the saloon and basically look to see that every thing is as it should be.
One-fifteen; I reached up on the wooden peg and pulled my pistol belt off that place and put the single 44 on my hip again, you rightly can't sit in the office chairs with the thing on your hips. I tied it to my thigh and walked out of the office, the flies were bad today, they kept flying into my eyes as I walked, I went out into the street to catch some breeze to get the flies to give me a break, it helped.
The general store had three customers in there when I arrived, Ms. Peabody pointed to the back room. I followed her finger to the back of the store where the back door was. I noosed around a little and found what I was looking for; pry marks on the window, the latch had been forced. "They stole a bag of flour-twenty five pounds worth. That is all I can see that has been taken."
"What's that worth on the market, Helen?"
"What's the difference; oh, say about fifty cents not more than that, but marshal that is not the point, some one is picking at me, robbing me a little at a time. This is the third time now, first there was some salt and then there was the bacon, and now this."
"Sounds like someone is hungry, a hungry person is stealing from you, they don't want to take more than they need, they are not trying to break you just stay alive and out of the jaws of hunger. However, I will look into these thefts and try to end it, Ms Peabody. Get someone to reinforce that back window and that flimsy door; they are very easy to open from the outside."
When I left the store, it was quiet. I could hear my spurs ringing on the hard wood floor as I walked, I was use to the sound that these spurs made as I moved through the dust and stones of the street. I walked to the edge of town and walked into the stables to visit my poor horse, he was a good boy but he was also of advancing years and in need of retirement, but still he was all I had. I saw Hiram Stone shoveling out the stalls over in the corner.
It was time for me to pay my board for my horse, "Hiram, how's Pete been doing, been taking good care of him?"
"Hey Sam, Pete, he's just fine, been getting the best of every thing, oats for dinner and hay all day long, a good brushing once a week. He is living the life of a king that one is. He is very healthy and very old. What can I do for you today there boy, you want to take Cactus Pete for a ride do's ya."
"No, Hiram, I'm here to settle my bill for the month, you know three dollars, for boarding my buddy here."
"Oh, yea, that time already, time surely does fly now doesn't it?"
"Yep, sure does."
"You want a receipt?"
"Na, not today, maybe someday though."
He took my three dollars gold and smiled at me as I left the stables; I gave Pete a rub on the nose and an apple I had been saving for him.
The wind had picked up a little, the flies had run for cover to avoid the breeze, I made my way back to the office and settled down for an afternoon of working on the ledger and my correspondences.
"Ohharrggh, damn, hey you what did you do to me?" the drunken saddle tramp was making his presence know from the back cell.
I walked back to the smelly man and looked in to see if he needed medical attention. "I cold cocked you, you are one belligerent so and so, but I guess you know that now don't you?"
"You better let me out of here school boy before my brothers find out that you have me, they will skin you alive, that they will, you ugly bastard."
I ignored the man and went back to my desk to finish the work I had planned out for me. All the while, I could hear the drunk grumbling in the background and cursing to himself. I personally don't curse much, I find it to be disrespectful and degrading to all parties concerned, I guess I am old fashioned that way. Anyway, I continued to write my letters to the various people on my list, my sister and my mother.
"I'm thirsty, I want some whiskey, you up there, can you hear me?"
I returned to the cell and looked in on the drunken bar fly, his stench was almost unbearable and I was tempted to throw a bucket of water on him, but I didn't want to waste the water. I looked at the man a little closer, "Hey stranger what's your name, do you have any kin who need to know where you are?"
"My name, my name, my name," he began to laugh a preposterous laugh and squealed a laugh of delight; it almost sounded like a threat his laugh. "My name, marshal, is Bobby Vandal." I went back to the desk and wrote the name in my ledger. All the while, I did not think much about this man nor his name. It didn't bring any thing to light, this stinking man's name.
"Ok, stranger, how are you, you want some food, you are hungry I would imagine?" He looked at me through the bars and spit at me. I was beginning to loose patients with the man and was about to let the man rot back in the cell with the mold and foul odors, I was feeling less compassion than I would normal feel for someone who was abusive and rude. I tried to let this all go by me and went to do my business.
Three in the afternoon, like clock work; Pat from the hotel came in with the food and dishes, a big pot of goulash and coffee, I needed both and I suspected the prisoner was starting to feel hunger as well. The smell filled the office with a heavenly fragrance, stew, bread, and coffee. My stomach began to growl and I knew I was ready to have my dinner.
I put some stew on a plate and broke off some bread, put my feet up on my desk and began to eat my fill. I know the smell of the food was getting to the cells in the back room and that it would be a matter of time before the prisoner would be getting his appetite back.
"Hey, you marshal, can you hear me marshal, I'm hungry, I want some food." He was putting up another kind of fuss now he would not stop calling to me, now that he smelled the dinner. I waited another ten minutes, until I finished my own, then I went to see what all the turmoil was about.
"So Bobby Vandal, you ready to eat some food, or are you going to continue to be a jack ass?"
"Well, I would like a bite to eat, and some coffee, if you could be sparing it, marshal, I'll settle down and be neighborly." I guess killing the man would have made my life less complicated, but not as interesting, that is for sure.
I went to get a plate of food for the man and some coffee, I pushed the plate through the slot in the bars and handed the man some of Pat Sawyer's hot sweetened coffee, it was black and strong. It was guaranteed to sober up a drunk in no time. And I wanted this man to sober up and pay his fine and then get the hell out of my town.
He grabbed the plate greedily and began to eat like a dog, wolfing down the food with his hands and bread, grunting and belching as he ate. 'What an animal', that's what I though to my self. I went to get the plate, he had placed it in the little window in the bars, I took it back and put it in the basket for Pat to pick up later. The prisoner was snoring a deep and restful sleep, he still stunk, but I figured that the man would be out of my hair in the morning.
As the sun set on the dusty town of Coyote Holes, the flies began to disappear and the Cicadas began to buzz on the distant Yucca trees, the mesa of Robbers Roost shown dark against the setting sun, I leaned my chair back on the wall of the porch. I relaxed and lit a cigar and enjoyed the cooling evening breeze.
I heard the horses before I saw them, there were three of them; I was unarmed as I relaxed on the porch.
The riders headed for the saloon and stopped, all three went in, horses tied up and hats cocked to the front, bandoleero style. Ten minutes passed and the men stomped out of the saloon and stepped into the street, they began to walk towards me and my jail.
I continued to sit with my chair propped up against the wall, I was still unarmed and actually unconcerned, I didn't feel like I needed to put the weapon on my hip. I just waited for the three men to reach my resting place.
I now could see the three plainly; two younger men and one older gentleman, all of them worn from being in the saddle for many days.
"You there," the older man yelled as he approached, "you there, you the marshal?" he stepped up onto the step and stopped right foot raised on the first step.
"That's correct, what can I do for you stranger?"
"You are holding my son, Bobby, did you know that?"
"Yep, been in here since this noon time, causing trouble down at the saloon, brought him in for drunken and disorderly, so to speak, he is lucky to be alive, I thought I was going to have to kill the boy.
"Well let's get him out here and we will be on our way."
"There would be nothing I would like better, but there is the matter of the fine and also time served. I am afraid that he won't be ready until the morning and there is a ten dollar fine on top of that. It is all standard and not negotiable."
"That is pretty big talk, law man, you ain't wearing no guns, we could just take our brother and kill you in the fight, doesn't seem too hard from where I am standing."
"Well, Mr. Vandal, I have been very hospitable towards your kin and your drunken son, giving him his dinner and treating him with respect and all. So if you want to have some gun play to go along with your evening surely you'll let me go and strap on my side arm, and we will have ourselves a fair fight, lessen you all be cowards and such. What will it be, a pack of dogs or men fighting with men?"
"Now, now, marshal, we are civilized men here, we hadn't realized that Bobby was disturbing the peace and causing trouble here in your town, and that you all had treated him with respect. Could we at least see the boy?"
"No problem there, right this way, Mr. Vandal." I showed the family into the back where the cells were, left them to have a little privacy and some conversation. When the family left, the father threw a ten-dollar gold piece on my desk, I still hadn't put on my pistol. "That should cover the fine, we will pick up the boy at sun up, do you understand marshal?"
"See you then, Mr. Vandal." The normal time for the release of the prisoner would be at noon, but I felt lucky that I had everything going as smoothly as it was, I didn't want to start a wild fire and maybe get my self killed in the process.
It was now dark, I strapped on my pistol and picked up my Winchester, checked its load and moved out into the street. It was quiet, save for the noise coming from the saloon, a tin, tin, tin of the brassy player piano, and the occasional outburst of laughter.
Night had settled down on Coyote Holes, and in the darkness, I stood and watched my little town and its restlessness.
A single kerosene lamp lit the entrance to the hotel, in the dim light stood Christine and Mary. They looked all sparkly and fresh, waiting for men to come stumbling out of the saloon, no doubt. These girls were our soiled doves, our night ladies, they lived in Pat Sawyer's hotel. And with the Army just ten miles away at China Lake, they made a good living at the hotel.
There where four saddles up against the hotel wall and big piles of horse manure near the sidewalk and near-by street. These things were forcing the girls out of their usual standing spot, and into the dark. Those animals needed to be at the livery, then I guessed they belonged to the Vandals; I was giving these people a lot of slack tonight just to keep the peace. I searched my mind to see if I was afraid of these folks. One thing a marshal didn't have the luxury of having was fear, no fear didn't go along with the badge. The law was the law, and the city ordnances said that the big piles of horse shit were suppose to be down at the stables, not in front of the hotel.
I tipped my hat to the ladies as I slowly moved through the doors to the little hotel, it only had fifteen rooms, two floors and a dining room, but only five of them were for rent. I went to the front desk, "the Vandals, what room is the father renting?"
"All three of them are in four, marshal, been there about an hour now."
I went to the room marked in paint with a 4, knocked and stood to one side.
The old man snatched open the door and looked at me, "you marshal, what the hell do you want?" The gray haired father had been drinking and was a little belligerent.
"Who is it daddy?" One of the off springs called from the darkness.
"That ass of a marshal," the father said standing in the doorway in his stained red flannel underwear, I ignored the remark.
"Move your horses off the street, move them to the livery and clean up that horse shit, that is your mess not mine, do you understand what I am saying Mr. Vandal?"
He slammed the door, I waited, a couple of minutes two of the sons came out wearing red flannel, hats and boots. I walked down to the street and continued on my rounds, I looked over my shoulder and saw that the horse mess and the horses where making their way over to the livery and away from the front door of Pat Sawyer's Hotel. These Vandal's were crude people but compliant, I wonder why, maybe they were more civilized than I gave them credit for being. I was left with minor wondering, which was the least of my concern.
I made my rounds and saw to it that every thing was the way it was suppose to be; including the back of the general store, which had a new latch and door on its back entrance. I hung back in the shadows and watched for a while, until I got tired of standing in the dark. I began to move off, then I saw something out of the corner of my eye, more of a shape than a shadow. I froze where I was, I waited and watched. A small shape moved silently to the back window. I just stood still as the shape tried to jimmy open the window with a hunting knife. I was less than three feet away from the youngster as he tried to work the new latch, he seemed to be frustrated with the situation, sheathed the knife, turned and walked past me.
I tripped him, he fell forward, I caught him, not before his knife came out of it's scabbard and raked past my face. I felt the searing pain of the slash. I grabbed the knife hand and held it behind his back and pulled him towards the light, an Indian boy, a Navajo I suspected. I overpowered the boy and threw him over my shoulder, kicking and screaming. I took him to the jail and forced him into one of the empty cells; he was yelling war hoots and raising holy hell.
I went to the cabinet and got the witch-hazel and cleaned the wound, and dabbed it until it stopped bleeding. My new prisoner was still raising the dead in his cell, when the other prisoner began to yell at the new prisoner. I walked outside and let the two of them wear one another out with their screaming.
I was sitting on the step smoking a cigar and letting the night do what it wanted; I had put one problem to rest, the thief at the general store, that should make Ms. Peabody very happy and also get her off my back. As I sat smoking I remembered I had lost my Winchester along the way, I left it behind the general store.
Silently I made my way back to the store; I always take off my spurs in the evening as to make my movements more secretive. I stopped in the alley behind the store. There was someone else in the dark at the back door. Just a shadow, it was barely visible.
"Don't move, I have a pistol trained on you." I moved closer to the person in the darkness.
"Shut up Sam, and give me a hand, this new door is stuck and won't budge, I'm locked out of my store." It was Ms. Peabody, in her night gown, struggling with the door to her store.
I went up to her and began to pull on the stubborn door. "I caught your thief, an Indian boy; he put up quite a struggle." She grabbed me by the shirt, pulled my face down to hers and kissed me, a hot, good old fashioned passionate, kiss. I liked it, I always liked it when Helen kissed me. We had a thing for one another, always have.
She let me go and I returned to moving the door around so it would open, it popped and gave way.
"I know I heard the commotion that is why I came down, came out here and then got trapped by this new door. Care to come in for a night cap Marshal Sam?" She grabbed my shirt and led me to the stairs to her upstairs apartments, I was very compliant, I liked playing with Helen, she always seemed to know what she wanted and didn't leave anything to guess work. She loved pleasure and so did I.
We sat in her parlor and sipped some brandy, which was very tasty and gave a man quite a heady feeling. We sat close to one another on the couch, I could smell her fragrances. She was a superb and shapely woman and in need of some physical attention. She kissed me again and gently began to rub me in places, which, from the look of it, needed to be attended too.
She unbuttoned my shirt and found all of my hot spots, then she pushed my hands under her nightshirt to play with her very erect nipples. It was then that I noticed how feminine her clothes were; this excited me, this gentleness, the feminine sights and smells. I became inflamed with a lust to find out more about her womanliness. This refined woman was clean, wholesome, and elegant; I hungered for the taste of her. She rose and led me to her dimly lit bedroom; I followed like a man in a trance.
Helen sat on the edge of her bed and stripped me; she did this, not allowing me to participate in my disrobing. Boots, pistol, pants, and underwear, she took great pleasure in discovering me as she removed my clothes. All the while kissing areas, which became suddenly visible to her. I knew what was coming next, she had a routine when it came to love making. On a stand near her bed was a washbasin, complete with water and scented soap and oils. Towels hung on the side of the stand and made her work very convenient. This was a ritual for her to make me presentable for her bed and body.
I submitted like a little boy, I allowed myself to be cleaned , examined, kissed and played with, I was in ecstasy.
I was walking back to the marshal's office before sunrise; Winchester on my shoulder, a little hop to my step and a secret smile on my face. I saw all of them congregated in front of the jail in the dim morning light. The Vandals were waiting for me to arrive, horses packed and waiting. It wasn't quite sunrise, but who was counting?
"Morning men, this will only take a minute."
I unlocked the door to the office and went in everyone stayed in the street, not a word was spoken. I led Bobby out the door and handed him back his weapons. They all mounted their horses and rode off, like I said; without a word.