The River Keep

It occurs to me that this is more than just a place to camp for the late Orlis Keene and his men. As their stinking clothes bubble away in the stew pot, we each take a piece of wood from the fire to use as a torch and look around the immediate area.

Outlaws had their hideouts; Jessie James had Meramec Caverns, Butch Cassidy had the Hole in the Wall, and Orlis Keene had Salt River Canyon. This is what they call home, and is their base of operations for the immediate area. This is where plans are made and wounded are repaired. Where strong boxes are opened and treasures divided.

Orlis Keene had a long run in these parts, robbing everything from military supply wagons to stagecoaches to trade caravans. His keep here in Salt River Canyon is stashed with every manner of loot, with the exception of cash money or gold, which is most likely divided by the men when they come upon it and spent with wild abandon.

We do find gold, silver dollars, and some coin in the pockets of the clothing we have stripped off the men. Then there is the bags they took off of Seedling. All of his stuff is in one pile. Out of respect for his privacy we leave his gear alone.
There are cases of whiskey, several bottles of what must be tequila. While our clothing cooks, we each take a bottle and try to forget the latest carnage.

Mike draws a torch from the flames and starts out into the brush looking carefully at the ground.
"What the hell are you doing." Andy says as he takes a pull from his whiskey. He winces as it goes down.
"I'm looking for a little sage or something for those rabbits."
"Why don't you look in the box over there." He sloshes the bottle when he uses it as a pointer. Mike looks in that direction and sees a large wooden crate.
"What's in it?"
"Now that would be the point of looking inside." Andy takes another pull off the bottle, no wincing, and leans back on his elbows.

Mike makes his way over to the box and holds his torch low. "Hey, there's a fork and a spoon painted on this thing."
"There you go." Andy slurs.

He opens the box and sinks his hand in its depths, pulling out a massive iron frying pan. He lets it drop to the ground and then pulls several canisters from the box and holds them up in turn to the torchlight.
"Hey, red pepper... salt... and dried garlic?"

Antonelli raises his head up from whatever it is he is digging through.
"Now you're talking. Cook up those rabbits... lots of garlic."

Mike digs through the box, setting everything out on the desert floor, taking a careful inventory. Without another word he begins to prepare what will be the first real meal we will eat since leaving the boat.

After an hour of digging through this stash we are eating rabbit seasoned with Mike's find. We have removed the clothing from the cauldron and are now letting it dry at the fire's edge. Each set looks like a macabre scarecrow, dancing with reflecting firelight and the slight breeze cutting up the canyon. At one point we all stop eating and talking, our eyes on the scarecrows... collectively it seems we have heard a voice.

Lou draws Orlis' pistol and waits. We are all on alert, grabbing up guns... Andy grabs his bow and arrow, apparently his weapon of choice from now on. It isn't until we hear the little song Seedling sings. He interrupts himself to call out toward the fire.

"I heard three shots. I heard 'em, clear as day. Thar were all them other shots, but them last three... that was the signal, weren't it?"

He stops at the edge of the fire, apparently talking to one of the scarecrows and not to us. It's not until Ole Bess pulls him along that he sees us sitting on the other side of the bonfire.

"Hungry, Seedling?"
"Can't say that I am. Just ate a slab of dried beef and a little hard tack." He holds his hand up to shield his eyes from the light. "You boys all alive?"

"Alive and kicking." Lou stands and takes a pull off of a half empty bottle of Red Eye.
"What? Camp abandoned when you boys got here?"
"Nope."
"You stand tall in front of Orlis Keene?"
"Yep."
"I'll be dipped."

We tell the story as we all sit around the fire gulping whiskey and tequila. When one of us tells a piece of the story, Seed jumps in with a "you don't say" or "you foolin' me?" He had a hard time believing that Lou got the best of Orlis Keene. It wasn't until each of us told the same story from a different view that he stopped with the denial and decided that we were telling the truth.

"Well that puts you on top. Sure as shit, you must be one hell of a gunfighter."
Lou takes a long pull off of the Red Eye and passes it to Seed, who takes a gulp and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.

"I did what I had to do." Lou tells him.
"If you bested Orlis Keene then my hat's off to ya." He takes another pull off the bottle and passes it back.

We finish the rabbit and some type of water grass that Mike pulled from the river. Seasoned up it was a welcome addition to the meal. Before long Andy is snoring away, Mike joining in within minutes. The whiskey and the days events have taken their toll.

For the next few hours it is a bit of show and tell with the treasures we find in the different areas of the keep. Ollie comes up with a bull whip, cracking it near the fire... making sparks fly. I jump out of my skin at the sound of it.
"Whoa, Indiana... you scared the hell out of me."
"No sea un afeminado." Ollie tells me.

I look at Lou, who looks at Antonelli, who tells me... "I think he called you a sissy."
I look at Ollie and he smiles and shakes his head like that isn't what he said.
"Sissy?"
"Justo bromear, mi amigo."
"Yeah... you better be." I run my index finger across my throat as though that might be the end of him. He just laughs a maniacle tequila laugh and cracks the whip into the fire, the sparks climb high into the night sky.

"That thar Mexican gonna get all liqoured up and start trouble?" Seedling seems a little uneasy.
"That Mexican is from Guatamala and is a descendant of Aztec Gods." I tell him.
"Now I reckon that's just a tall tale. You boys are pulling my... "
The whip cracks twice in quick succession and an over hanging branch, already scorched from the bonfire, is separated from the tree and falls into the fire with a mushroom cloud of sparks and flame. Seedling backs nervously away from the fire and makes himself busy doing something with Bess.

"Hey, I have a couple of things to share." Lou steps into the shadows for a moment and brings back rawhide saddle bags. From inside the first bag he pulls a long pipe covered in places with hand sewn animal hide, ornamental feathers, rawhide stripes adorned with beads and the like.

"You smokum peace pipe?" I ask him. "Too bad we don't have some of that Nogales window box."

"Hey, this comes with all the bells and whistles." He pulls a little hide pouch out of the saddle bag and throws it to me. I catch it and turn it over in my hands.
"What is this?"
"I think it's a buffalo scrotum."
I drop it in the dirt and give him a look. He smiles.
"Open it, Nancy."
I open the pouch and catch a whif of mother natures finest... for this time and place.
"No way."

Antonelli is looking on, "What is it? Candy?"
Lou has me throw it back.
"Candy? What the fuck? This is cannabis." Lou pulls a load out and packs it in the pipe.

"You boys ain't priests, none like I ever heard." Seedling reaffirms from the shadows, interrupting a little song he was singing to himself.

When the pipe is ready, Lou finds a long stick and holds it in the fire until it lights. He puffs the peace pipe to life and myself, Ollie, and Antonelli sit back and hold a few hits of this wraspy shit.

"This shit would make better rope."
"Wait for it." Lou says as he releases his second hit.
Even though this is some harsh stuff, it puts the buzz to you just the same. We sit and pass the pipe for what seems like the better part of an hour.

"Seedling? You want to smoke the peace pipe?"
He ambles out of the darkness, slapping the dirt off of his pants.
"Don't mind if I do. I been known to sit down with guide or two and take a puff. Puts your mind at ease... makes the stars look nice."
Ollie passes the pipe to Seedling and Seed makes sure to wipe the end off before he takes a hit.
"Seen me a starbernard one time smokin' this stuff."
"Starbernard?" Antonelli asks, taking the pipe from him and taking a long, slow hit... now used to the edge it has.
"Big dog, kind of a... "

Lou stands, "I have something else to show you boys."
He pulls a journal from his pocket and opens it up to one of the last pages that has writing.
"This is a Orlis' personal journal." He turns it around and looks at the pages.
"He was a thinking man, a planner. For an outlaw he had some good project management experience."

Lou tosses the book to me. I look at the marked page.
"These are... train schedules?"
"No, I think they are stage coach schedules. There are no tracks near these parts, are there Seedling?"

Seed hits the pipe and passes it Ollie's way. "Well now, I know of a line out of Old Mexico, and one up north a way. But no... no tracks that would be in riding distance for them fellars." He gestures to the bodies at the fires edge.

"So... why would he be keeping a list of these particular stages and times." Lou takes the book from my hands and gives offers it to Seedling who takes it and turns the pages toward the fire light.

"I reckon Orlis was a plannin' to take a few more strong boxes. 'Cept these here stages carry some heavy armor and extra riders on shotgun."

"Why is that?" I ask, breathing out a long stream of rope smoke.
"Cause them stages carry gold from here to the main banks on the rail line."