This is Part three. If you’re wondering what it’s
part three of, then maybe you should stop here and read parts one and two. Or better yet, go to Amazon, buy my story and then buy copies
for everyone you know, and half the people you’ve forgotten. It’s
coming holiday time, and won’t you feel better making sure a
starving writer gets Pop Tarts in his stocking?
Anyway – here’s part three.
If you were looking to spy on anythin’ in Taos, the
steeple of Saint Frank’s was the best place to be. Even today it’s
the tallest spot in town, and it sits like a mule in the middle of
the main road. It sits so stubborn that the road has to split go
around it. Even from where we were workin’ I could see all the way
down the road to where it became more trail than street.
It was when I saw them four fellas comin’ into town
and heading right into the Rosa Linda that it all came together for
me. These men were not casual, mid-day drinkers, and Estevo, who
knew damn well who killed Rutherford James, was not the type to
heroically keep his mouth shut.
I looked over at Slimy with my good eye, and he of
course was diggin’ and talkin’ to my bad eye. “So that musta
been Raisin, ’cause she was the bitch that whelped Tunny. So it
was Tunny that barked, ’cause Raisin was dead by then, when her leg
swelled up so bad…”
“Slimy!”
“That barkin’ was so loud that Momma woked up, and
Momma never woked much when she was drinkin”.
“Slimy!”
Slimy looked surprised. I don’t know if he was
surprised to be looking at my good eye, which he rarely saw, or he
was surprised that I interrupted one of his stories, which I had
never done before.
“Slimy, you have to go hide.”
“Hide?”
“There’s four men comin’ to kill ya.”
Slimy didn’t say anything. He balanced his chin on
the end of his shovel and took it all in. Slimy was accustomed to
violence, but advanced warning was new to him. So was running and
hiding.
“Go hide in the church,” I said.
“Where do I hide in thar?”
“Just find someplace.”
Slimy didn’t move at first. He just stood there in
his ditch and stared at me. Finally he dropped his shovel.
“Alright,” he said, and he climbed out of his ditch
and went into the church.
I don’t know if Estevo was holding out or the men were
having a beer, but they didn’t come out of the Rosa Linda for
nearly an hour. It had me hopin’ I was wrong about ’em, or about
Estevo.
I wasn’t. They came straight over to Saint Frank’s.
Estevo knew Slimy and me had a job there.
Now, in all these western novels, and I guess this is
one too, but I’m hopin’ it’s a bit more truthful than the
others…
Where was I?
Oh yeah.
In all those other western novels, the bad guys are
always big bruisers. I’d like to tell you that these fellers were
little guys, or even just middlin’, ’cause as you might have
picked up, I kinda like to be different.
But these guys were monsters. The smallest was half a
head taller than me, and he was a fair bit smaller than the ugly one
that did all the talkin’.
Maybe if you’re an Indian agent and you plan on
selling guns and booze to Indians, you hire the biggest fellers you
can find to stand with you.
Anyway, the particularly big and ugly one says to me,
“Hey Cock-eyed, are you Beach?”
“Nah,” I said, “the name’s Bego. Beach digs the
holes, I build the latrines.”
“Ain’t that somethin’ to brag on,” said the ugly
one. The other fellers laughed. I guess I woulda laughed, too, if
it weren’t me that just bragged about building outhouses.
“So where’s Beach, Shitbox Man?”
“I dunno. He ain’t in his ditch.”
“I can see that. Where’d he go?”
“Hell,” I said, because I was mad and wanted to hit
someone, but these fellers were much too big to mess with, “I told
you I don’t know!”
I learned something about lying that day. I’m sure
that Father Gonzalez wouldn’t approve me passing it on, and if
there are any children reading this, you need to skip over the next
couple of lines.
This is what I learned. People don’t believe you when
you’re tryin’ to convince ’em, but they will believe you if you
sound mad.
The four men stared at me. I did my best to stay mad,
because that was just about the scariest moment in my life to that
point.
“Yeah, alright, Cross-eye,” said the ugly one. I
wanted to shout that I was cock-eyed and not cross-eyed, but it
sounded too much like my brag about building shit boxes instead of
digging them, so I just spit and picked up a scrap of lumber.
The ugly one laughed. “Well boys,” he said, “we
better be movin’ on before our little shit-house builder takes to
us with his stick.”
They all laughed, but they also left, so I felt a little
better. Maybe I scared them some – well, it was a nice thought,
anyway.
But I didn’t feel so good when I saw them go into the
church.
Love this movie - Little Big Man
No comments:
Post a Comment