A Bath, a Smoke, and a Lynch Mob

I don't know if it is the sun in my eyes or the hurt in my head that wakes me up. Fire is still going, but just red hot embers and a couple of glowing internal infernos. The air is crisp and I am freezing my ass of in this robe and nothing else.

It sounds like a hibernating grizzly pit with all the snores and wheezes coming up from my drunken brothers. Lou is sleeping leaned up against a tree, emtpy bottle in hand balanced on his knee. His eyes are open, just slits, but it freaks me out. I don't suppose he sleeps too easy with some of the ghosts running around in his head.

The rest of the boys are spread around. Mike and Andy are up and down at the river's edge. Their early departure from the party has them both up and chipper. Aside from Lou's bottle I count five empty fifths of liquor on the ground, and I know the two of them only played a very small part in the death of those soldiers.

"Hey... " Lou struggles to his feet. He eyes the empty bottle in his grip and drops it. His hands come up to his face and he rubs the sleep out of his expression.
"Coffee."

We both survey camp and end up looking at each other.
"Where's Seedling?"

Turns out that Seed and Ole Bess cut out while we were sleeping. He took only his belongings and by the looks of the tracks left the same way he came. I was beginning to really miss him when Mike holds up a little burlap sack with ground coffee.

The brew is thick and black as space itself. The effect is nearly instantanious and before long the fog has lifted and we are all wide-eyed. I keep getting a look from Antonelli... not a nice one.

"What the fuck is your problem? Did you not sleep well?"
"You know what, you dumb ass."
"No, really... what are you so pissy about?"

Lou smiles wide and points to a piece of paper stuck to the trunk of one of the small trees. "You almost killed him last night."

I am taken aback. "The hell you say."

For the next few minutes I am told what had happened last night. After downing a bottle of tequila and having sat with the peace pipe, I decided to play with Andy's bow and arrow while he slept. I guess I made Chris a little nervous and he moved away from the fire. Then, without even knowing where had gone off to, I was checking the tension on the bow when the arrow took flight and plucked the piece of paper he was reading right out of his hands and stuck it to the tree. It was a hell of a shot not to hit him in the process, so I don't know why he is so pissed.

"Get over it." I tell him. "I'll let you shoot an apple off of Mike's head later."

Within the next few hours we drag the dead down river and then up and over the ridge where we find loose ground to cover them. We have donned the Keene Gang clothing, gathered and loaded our weapons and readied the horses. It isn't until we are saddled up that one of us asks where we are going.

"Town." Lou says, loosening up his gunbelt one more notch so it hangs a little lower on his hip.
"Town? What town?" I am still wicked hung-over and not in the mood for one word answers.
"Seedling said there was a trading post outside of the Fort. We need food, I need a bath."
"Sissy."
"You need a bath, asswipe." Lou puts Orlis' hat on and pulls it down low over his brow. A perfect fit. It seems that Lou could be this guy's body double.
"We all need to clean up and go find this gold. I don't know about you guys, but this isn't my idea of fun. I want to get back to the boat and the quicker the better."

It is agreed that we leave the Clarok behind in a good hiding place. This canyon is the known hide-out for Orlis Keene and there is doubt whether or not anyone will dare to search it out.

We end up on the trail mid-morning, probably ten or so by my internal clock. About a mile from camp the trail splits and we take the path leading north. The horses seem to know where we are going. I am riding up front with Lou, then Mike and Andy, and Ollie and Antonelli. Ollie is riding in bare feet. The boots he pulled off of the Bull were too short and narrow, and the chopped off corpse shoes we grabbed the day before yesterday left huge blisters on his feet.

"Ollie isn't wearing shoes." I tell Lou as my horse ambles along.
"Saw that."
"Well, isn't that... you know, kind of odd for this place?"
"We'll get him some boots at the trading post."
"Yeah, they might have a Shoe Carnival or something with a size sixteen."
"Don't sweat it. This day and age they can probably make him boots while we wait."

At one point there is a bit of a down hill run and before long we quicken the pace until the horses are at a slow gallop. It is Mike that breaks ranks and races off at a gallop. That's all it takes and we are all in a race with no finish line, tearing up the earth as we go. After a mile or so, Mike slows and we all catch up.

Over the next hill we can see the trading post, and beyond it about a half mile is Fort McDowell. The fort isn't as big as I would have thought. I have been in Department stores that cover more ground. Maybe it's the distance that is throwing it off.

We ride up toward the five by five dirt street matrix that makes up this trading post. Right up front is a bath house. Just a big tent with a handpainted sign, ten cents for fresh water, a nickel for used water. The thought of that last one makes me throw up just a little. When Lou stops and dismounts, we all gather on his position.

"I think it'd be a good idea to get cleaned up. Might not get a chance down the road."
I look at him, then at Antonelli who has a smirk on his face.
"You sound like a sissy." He is looking at me, but he is talking to Lou. Seems safer that way.

Lou takes the high ground and keeps on talking. "We should go in three shifts. Me and Ollie go now. You and Antonelli, then Andy and Mike." He pulls some coin out of his pocket and realizes it is way too much for a bath house.
"Shit... all I've got are gold pieces. Check your pockets... we need no more than a dollar."

Everyone checks their pockets and Mike comes up with the funds. Lou takes the money in to a large, balding man in a dirty apron who starts pouring steaming water into one of four wooden bathtubs. A small boy begins bringing in river water by the bucket and filling two for one to the hot water. In five minutes the first bath is ready and the second is being filled.

"Better have two of you stay here, locked and loaded. We'll have your backs when you're in here."
"You're gonna do what to our backs?" Antonelli snickers.
"I'm thinking you're going to get a knife stuck in yours." Lou doesn't miss a beat.
That seems to wipe the smile off of Chris' face.
"We got your back, Lou. Just hurry the fuck up."

Bath time is about ten minutes... longer if they would have had rubber ducks. We have Andy and Mike ride into "town" and check it out. Me and Chris smoke a couple of cheroots that he found in the pockets of his outlaw.

"What happens if we kill someone?"
"What the fuck?" Chris is caught off guard.
"You know, the time space continuum... shit like that." I take a long draw off of the cheroot and let the smoke out. "We might change something and never get home."
"Are you kidding me?"
"No, not kidding at all. We already killed those outlaws. Figure it out. What if one of them turns out to have some effect on the future. We killed them. It's like that thing about the butterfly flapping its wings, the Butterfly Effect."
"Good movie."
"Not the movie, the effect. We have to watch ourselves. We shoot someone and it may have turned out that they become president and the whole course of the world changes."
"So... don't shoot any Roosevelts. You could shoot some Carters... that guy sucked."

I just shake my head. I know he gets it. He just had too much wise-ass for breakfast. Lou steps out of the tent flap, clean and pressed so to speak. Ollie follows behind him, a long stretch stops him in his tracks until it is finished. He says something in mother tongue and I am pretty sure I know what it is.
"You guys wait for us before you eat. We are all hungry."
Ollie looks my way and smiles.

By the time me and Antonelli are clean, both Andy and Mike have already reported in to Lou about what the trading post has to offer. There are three bars, one of which serves food, a general store, a blacksmith, a guy that repairs all sorts of leather goods, and a bank.
"People aren't all that friendly." This coming from Mike.
"No one would talk to us... most kid of cleared the way." Andy ties his horse to the rail and starts for the bath house. "Come on, Mike, let's get this over with so we can get something to eat."

It's true, none of these people are all too friendly. We all ride up the center street that houses the bars and the bank, the barber shop and the general store. When they see Lou in his Orlis-wear they skitter off the street like squirrels. I can feel the eyes of everyone we pass boring holes in the back of my head.
"So... what are we doing?"
"We need supplies." Lou says through his teeth.

He can feel it too. There is no time to talk about it, not right now. But I know he is thinking what I am thinking. If these people think he is Orlis Keene, then there is going to be trouble, gunplay, and killing.

Lou stops in front of the general store and we dismount. Ollie turns back to the street for a quick look before we go in. He mutters something and Antonelli turns and looks.
"We have fans."
It is like we have our own gravity and are pulling the people in towards us. At the front of this group are about a dozen men with guns. I feel a jitter bolt through me as we walk up the wooden steps into the store.

This is one of the few wooden structures here in this trading post. The rest are canvas buildings or just tents of sorts. When we step inside, the man behind the counter seems paralyzed. He just stands there, hands up on the counter... trembling.
His wife, I suspect, appears from the other room, a stack of small boxes in her hands. She is talking to him and when he doesn't answer she sees the six of us. The boxes fall to the floor and something of a muffled scream passes through her lips.

"Hey now, it's okay... please don't be frightened." I tell her. They look at us like we were the German SS in Anne Frank's neighborhood. "We just need to pick up some supplies."

The woman side-steps over behind the counter with her husband, keeping her hands in sight at all times. The husband tries to smile, more of a nervous tick that brings one corner of his mouth up.
"Take... take anything you want, Mr. Keene."

Lou takes off his hat in hopes that they will see that he isn't Orlis Keene. "We're payin' our way just like anyone else."
He tosses four twenty dollar gold pieces up on the counter. It is probably four times more than anything we are carrying out of here, but I think he wants to make amense for what has occurred in the past at Orlis' hand.

Mike steps up to the counter, hat in hand. "Here's a list of what we will need, Ma'am." He holds the list out. She won't take it... like hand feeding a bird. Mike sets it on the counter, spins it around her way and then scoots it toward her.

Lou points to a case of cigars, "What have you got there?"
The storekeeper tries to laugh but it doesn't come, "That's a good one, Mr. Keene. A box of your regulars?"
Lou nods.

Ollie steps up to Lou's side and whispers something in his ear. Lou nods again, "Tell Chris."
Antonelli listens and then asks if the guy carries dynamite.
"It is in the shed out back. I can give you the key and you take what you need."

We go out and grab four six stick bundles of dynamite, each in a double wrap burlap sack. I really don't want to think about the scenerio surrounding our using this stuff, but better to have it if you need it. Andy, Mike, and I step around the store with these bundles to anchor them to the horses. We are met by the gun toting men in the street. Outnumbered and surprised, we are quickly overtaken and disarmed.
I feel the hard steel barrel of a gun in my back. I look to my left and see both of my friends in the same situation.

"ORLIS KEENE... "
There is no answer from inside the store.
"ORLIS KEENE, COME OUT AND GET WHAT'S COMING TO YA." The man with his gun in my back yells. His breath is a reminder of the lack of any dental hygiene in these times.

Nothing.

"WE GOT YOUR BOYS OUT HERE KEENE. WE'LL STRING 'EM UP IF YOU DON'T THROW YOUR GUNS DOWN AND STEP OUT."