Savage. Part 53

I'd shot us a jackrabbit that afternoon, so we hadn't needed to gnaw on mule jerky for our supper. We'd just finished eating it when the man called out.

It startled us both considerable.

I s.n.a.t.c.hed out my Colt. Jesse put a hand on my knee to settle me down.

"Tell him to come on in," she whispered.

"Step along into the light where we can see you," I called. "Don't let me see any iron in your hands."

"If you're fixing to plug me, I'll just go on my way and leave you be. I ain't looking for no trouble."

Jesse called, "You're welcome to come in and set."

"Thank you kindly, miss."

With that, Barney Dire led his horse into the glow of the firelight. He held his reins in one hand. He held the other hand up, open to show it was empty. That one was short two fingers, the ring finger and pinkie.

"I seen your light," he said. "Hope you don't mind me joining you."

"Long as you behave," Jesse told him.

"I most generally do," he said. "I ain't the violent sort, Lord knows-though I run up against it now and again, much as I hate such doings." He tied his reins to a tall cactus over near General, then sauntered closer.

Though he had a voice that made him sound like quite a large fellow, he was so pint-sized that he appeared half-lost inside his duds. Everything he wore looked too big for him. The brim of his hat was as wide as his shoulders. The bandanna hanging around his neck looked the size of a tablecloth. His vest hung down so low it draped the b.u.t.t of his six-gun. His chaps flapped about his legs like a couple of sails.

Even his thick, dark mustache looked like it belonged on the face of a man twice his size.

He was all creaking leather and jingling spurs as he stepped to the other side of the fire and sat down.

With a sigh, he said, "Much obliged. Name's Dire. Barney Dire." He touched the brim of his hat.

"I'm Trevor," I said. "This is Jesse."

"Pleased to make your acquaintance, folks."

He had a rather calm, friendly manner about him. His eyes, shiny in the firelight, had a bit of humor or mischief that put me in mind of Jesse. Though it seemed smart to remain cautious, I went on ahead and holstered my Colt.

"I'm afraid we haven't any food to offer you," I said. "We just now finished eating all we had."

"Less you've got a hankering for some mule jerky," Jesse told him.

Barney laughed and shook his head. "Nope, reckon I'll pa.s.s on the offer. Much obliged, anyhow. Just figured to set awhile and jaw with you folks. My old horse, Joey, ain't much for conversation."

"It can get lonely, traveling alone," I said.

"Well, there's worse things than lonely. I'd a sight rather run on my own than get saddled with a sourpuss. Or with a gal, if you'll beg my pardon, Miss Jesse."

I gave Jesse a glance, and saw she was smiling. "What's your problem with gals?" she asked.

"Why, they're generally a sorry lot. All the time bossing and whining. Not as I'm saying you're you're any such nuisance." He tipped a wink at me. any such nuisance." He tipped a wink at me.

"Jesse's quite all right, actually," I said.

She laughed.

"First thing you know, they're after you to settle down. Don't want you having no fun, seems as how they look at things. Why, they raise a fit if you have yourself a drink or a chaw, and they treat your friends ornery. If they could, I reckon they'd lock you up and never let you out, 'cept when it suited them, and that'd only just be to work ch.o.r.es."

"I say," said I, "you do have a rather low opinion of them."

"Been married to two of the critters. They was both fine gals till we got us. .h.i.tched. First thing you know, they up and changed on me. Seems like they was both of 'em cut out to be penitentiary guards."

Jesse laughed.

"Not as I'm saying you're you're any such," Barney told her. any such," Barney told her.

"Thanks kindly."

"You gonna hitch up with Trevor here?" he asked.

"Why, I don't reckon he's likely to ask, now that you've filled his ear with such manure."

That got Barney to chuckling softly. "Well, you're both mighty young yet. Not more than children by much. There ain't no call to rush into such a tricky game as marriage. How'd you two throw in together, if you don't mind me asking?"

"Jesse had a go at stealing my horse."

She blurted, "Tell the whole world, why don't you!"

"Well, you didn't get it, did you?"

"Only just because I took it easy on you."

"I got the drop on you!"

"I kept my knife to myself."

"Settle down, folks," Barney said. "Lord alive, I didn't aim to start up a war between you. We don't want no bloodshed here."

"He started it," Jesse said.

"I did not."

"Did too."

"This is what comes," Barney broke in, "of poking my nose into matters that don't concern me. I'm right sorry I asked. Somebody oughta cut it off for me so's I'll stop sticking it where it don't belong. Already missing enough parts, though." He held up his hand to show us which parts he meant. "Got 'em shot clean off in Phoenix back in eighty-four. Minding my own business, too. Just having myself a beer when a couple of hotheads down the other end of the bar took to throwing lead and a stray slug found me. Took off both my fingers clean as a whistle."

"I had it figured," Jesse said, "that one of your wives took a knife to you."

"Ain't how it happened. Not that you're far off the track, though. My first wife, she took after me with a knife every time I came home with a snootful. Got me some scars to show for it, but she never got off a piece of me. Not for lack of trying. I'm small, but quick." He held what was left of his hand close to the fire and studied it. "Nope, it wasn't Aggie carried off my fingers. Just a dang bullet."

"Does it cause you much trouble, being without them?" I asked.

"Oh, I get by. They don't amount to much. Knew a feller got his thumb shot off. Caused him a sight sight of bother, as he was in the midst of gunplay when it happened. Couldn't c.o.c.k his six-gun, what with his thumb on the ground. He went to drag back the hammer with his teeth, but never got to finish. The same rascal that shot his thumb off plugged him full of holes while he still had the hammer in his chops." Barney wiggled his own thumb. "You're better off losing just about any old part than your thumb. I'd a sight rather lose a couple fingers. Comes right down to it, a feller can get by minus an ear or an eye better than a thumb." of bother, as he was in the midst of gunplay when it happened. Couldn't c.o.c.k his six-gun, what with his thumb on the ground. He went to drag back the hammer with his teeth, but never got to finish. The same rascal that shot his thumb off plugged him full of holes while he still had the hammer in his chops." Barney wiggled his own thumb. "You're better off losing just about any old part than your thumb. I'd a sight rather lose a couple fingers. Comes right down to it, a feller can get by minus an ear or an eye better than a thumb."

"I bit off a feller's ear, once," Jesse said.

I looked at her, surprised.

"Well, I did."

"You never told me."

"There's a heap I've never told you." Leaning forward, elbows on knees, she grinned across at Barney. "It was a sidewinder name of Hank Dappy." That name sounded vaguely familiar. I judged it might be one of those she'd reeled off the time she was telling me about all the rascals who'd had a go at her. "He jumped me-fixing to have some high times on account of me being a girl, you know. Well, I bit his ear clean off. You should've just seen him, how he cried and carried on. Well, he chased after me. Went raving as how he'd take his ear back and stick it up my you-know-what."

I didn't know what, exactly, but didn't speak out.

"I allowed as how that was likely to pain me some, so I didn't aim to let him get his ear back. He was just about to catch me, so I turned around and plonked that stinky old ear of his into my mouth and ate it whole."

"Jesse!" I blurted.

"Well, I did."

Barney gazed across the fire at her. He looked purely astonished. "Ain't you the spitfire!" he said. "My Lord!"

"And did you swallow it?" I asked.

"Why, sure. Dappy, he was so flummoxed he stopped dead in his tracks. Reckon he figured I was a crazy woman, so he took to his heels and that was the last I ever seen of his mangy hide."

Barney, grinning under his mammoth mustache, shook a finger in my direction. "You'd best watch yourself with this one, young feller. She'll be having pieces of you."

Not to be outdone, I spoke up and said, "I once cut off a bloke's nose, myself."

"Why, you pair of rascals are meant meant for each other. Did you gobble it up?" for each other. Did you gobble it up?"

I shook my head.

"She's got you beat, then. Won by a nose."

We all spent some time laughing over that. Barney rocked back and forth some, holding his knees. After we'd settled down, he said, "Now how came you to cut off the nose of this feller?"

"He was trying to kill me, actually. And I him. I was rather hoping to give him a fatal wound, you see, but his nose intercepted my knife."

"Took it clean off, did you?"

"Indeed. It fell to the street."

"Should've eaten it," Jesse said, and gave my ribs a knock with her elbow.

"I was rather too busy trying to save my skin."

"I once saw me an Apache squaw that'd lost her nose," Barney said. "Sure didn't help her looks none. Which is why they done it to her. Any time as you see yourself a squaw that's had her nose sliced off, you know she got herself caught fooling with a feller that weren't her husband. Lets everybody see what brand of woman she is. It's plain as the nose off her face." Barney chuckled softly and shook his head.

"It seems a trifle extreme," I said.

"That's Apaches for you. They're the downright extremest sons a b.i.t.c.hes that ever walked the dirt. And they ain't particular who they butcher. I've seen such things as give me the night sweats."

"Sure glad we ain't gotta worry about 'em," Jesse said.

"Who ever told you that?" Barney asked.

"Why, they're all either killed off or cooped up on reservations."

"I understand that Geronimo and his band are prisoners in Florida," I put in.

"That don't mean there ain't renegades skulking about. One's been raiding these parts fairly regular. They figure it's Apache Sam, a Chiricahua that run off from the San Carlos reservation a while back. He's killed a heap of white folks, past couple of months. Creeps up on 'em in the night, murders whatever feller might be about and carries off the women. Does such manner of butchery on the women as would curl your hair."

When I heard that, my heart commenced to pound like thunder. "Are they quite sure it's an Apache?" I asked.

"Ain't no white man with the stomach for such doings."

"He's been seen, though?"

"Not by any folks as lived to tell the tale. They found his hideout, though. Got himself a cave no more than a day's ride from here. Heard all about it from a feller this morning. Seems a week ago, maybe longer, a prospector tumbled onto the cave. Had himself a stroll inside, and what he found was dead women. Eight or ten of 'em, all carved to pieces and moldering. Some was fresher than others, and one appeared as how she'd only got killed just the day before. That prospector, he figured it had to be the work of Apache Sam. So he made tracks to Tucson. They got up a posse, and he showed 'em back to that-there cave. The feller I met, he'd been with the posse. Went in that cave with the rest, and what he saw near unhinged his mind. He couldn't take no more, and lit out. When I seen him, he was still a mite green."

"And it was just this morning that you spoke with him?" I asked.

"A shade before noon, I reckon."

"And when did he leave the posse behind?"

"Oh, not long after sunup. The way he told it, the posse got to the cave after dark last night. Didn't go in, though. Figured to keep an eye on it and wait till morning. See, they had no idea if the redskin was in there. Hoped he might show up so they could take a crack at him, and save themselves the bother of searching for him in the cave. Well, he didn't do them the favor. So they went sneaking in at first light. The feller I met, he took one look at them gals and vamoosed. He allowed as how they was the worst sight that ever met his eyes, and the stink would've choked a maggot."

"And did they find the Indian?" I asked.

"If he was there, he was keeping outa sight. What I hear, though, it's a ripsnorter of a cave. The kind of place where a body might lose himself forever, pretty near. Now I just don't know if they aim to have a try at hunting him out."

"Do you suppose the posse's still there?"

"Wouldn't surprise me none. I was them, I wouldn't go and waste my time. They won't never find him if he's in there. Injuns are that way, you know. Slippery boogers. If he's got a mind to, he could likely pick 'em off one at a time, they go hunting him in a cave. Best thing'd be to hide around outside and see if he don't put in an appearance, sooner or later. That's how I'd work it. But then, I ain't the reckless sort. You put a bunch of fellers together like in a posse, they can get mighty brave. Start to figuring it's the other guy'll catch what-for, not their own selves. Sides, don't none of them wanta look yeller front of their pals. So they'll do the dangdest things. I reckon they'll hunt all over that cave till they either run short of supplies or get themselves whittled down to nothing."

"You say the cave's only one day's ride from here?"

It wasn't me who asked that. It was Jesse.

I looked at her. She looked me back, and one of her eyebrows gave a little upward jump.

"A mite close for comfort, huh?" Barney said.

"Sure is," she told him. "Whereabouts is it, so we'll know to keep clear?"