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The Turquoise Cowboy was dry and dusty when he rode into
the sleepy little town of Mesa. People on the boardwalks could see the weariness
that went to the very core of him. Countless miles lay behind him, as well as
something much easier to spot. And smell.
He led a sway backed packhorse that had a body tied across
its back. That body had passed the rigor mortis stage and was now bloated and
stinking. As the Cowboy pulled up to the hitching rail at the Sheriff's office,
people formed a circle around him, albeit a wide circle.
Sheriff Brady stepped out to see about the commotion.
“All right, you've all seen a body before. Now move along and let me see
what this is about.”
He turned to the Cowboy. “What did you bring him here
for? You a bounty hunter?”
“That's right. Here's the poster.”
The Sheriff read for a minute. “He was a bad one, all
right. Killed ten men and one woman. Damn, tortured her, too. I guess you did
the world a favor. But, a hundred dollars I don't have. I'll wire for it.
Might take a few days.”
“I worked hard for it. I'll wait.”
“You must be handy. Says here this fellow was hell on
wheels with any kind of weapon.”
“He wasn't quite good enough. What do you want to do
with the body?”
“Heck, these lazy bums will take care of it,” he
replied, gesturing to a couple of poorly dressed curiosity seekers.
The cowboy looked around. There was only one hotel.
“What's that place like? Full of lice?”
“Nope, a Mexican widow woman runs it, and she keeps it
right clean.”
“All right, then, that's where I'll be.”
“El Vaquero Turquesa!” The woman behind the desk
hissed the name when she looked up to see him.
“Hola, Maria, como estar tu?”
“Bien, bien.” Then she switched to English to be sure
he understood her. “I heard you brought in a bounty. I fear you will lose it.
The bodies seem to disappear before the money shows up.”
“So I have heard. I've come to kill two birds with one
stone, if possible. And you, Maria? How
have you fared since Manuel has been gone?
“Most of the time I am busy and don't allow myself to
think. It's those other times that get to me. But I'm okay. Just a little
lonely sometimes.”
“It's been a long time, Maria. Perhaps you should think
of finding another.”
“Maybe. I think about it sometimes. But the time is not
yet right.” Then she was back to business. “I'll give you the best room in the house. It's on
the upstairs corner, so that you can see what's going on outside.”
“Thanks. I think I might sleep for two straight days. But
wake me up if anything happens.”
The Turquoise Cowboy didn't start, sit up or even give a
sudden intake of breath. He woke and stayed exactly as he was, for someone else
was in the room.
There. Just a whisper of cloth on cloth. When a shadow
flicked over him, he cocked and leveled his Colt in one swift motion. A voice
whispered urgently.
“It is I, Maria.”
“Good Lord, girl, you nearly got yourself killed.”
“No, I know you. You will never shoot a person by
accident.” She became confidential. “I told you I had some bad times. Tonight is one of them.
We are true friends. That is enough reason for us.”
“I…yes, I guess it is at that.”
He held up the sheet, and she crawled in beside him.
Dawn was breaking when squeals of hunger echoed up the
street. Pigs! That was the other aroma the Cowboy had smelled, even over the
stench of the dead outlaw's body.
Maria explained. “The sheriff and the undertaker raise
pigs together. Then they take them to the mining camps and sell them.”
“Where do they keep these hogs?”
Her eyes grew wide. “Their shelter is under the funeral
parlor. And they have a fenced in lot in back of that.”
“Thanks, Maria. I've got the same idea you do. I'm
going to check it out.”
The door to the undertaker's was unlocked, and it was no
big surprise to see that the outlaw's body was gone. The Cowboy looked
carefully around the room, then walked around again letting his nose guide him.
The smell of pig manure was much stronger in one corner.
He got down on his hands and knees before he found it. A
trap door, so well fitted that it nearly escaped detection. With the point of
his knife, he got it started and opened it to stare directly into the face of a
huge hog. In the hog's mouth was a black boot with a bone sticking out of it.
The cowboy leveled his single action and carefully put a
slug into the pig's temple. The animal expired without a single sound. There
were sounds on the street, though, the sounds of running feet.
The Turquoise Cowboy stepped to the edge of the boardwalk
and addressed himself to the sheriff.
“Quite a little game you had here. Feed the bodies to the
pigs, and the bounty hunters turn and walk away. Then you keep the bounties when
they show up. Plus you made money on the sale of big hogs. Of course, that's
all a thing of the past, now.”
The sheriff started to draw but found himself staring into
the muzzle of the Cowboy's Colt.
The sheriff tried to intimidate his foe. “I know who you
are, you're the Turquoise Cowboy, so don't play high and mighty with me. And
if you shoot a sheriff, even a crooked one like me, you'll never have a
day's peace for the rest of your life. Now drop your gun and ride out of
here.”
The Cowboy turned so that only the sheriff could see, then
slipped a shiny object from his vest pocket and held it face toward the lawman.
It was the badge of the Arizona Rangers!
“You've got your gun out. Have at it.”
“With you covering me? You must be nuts.”
In reply the Cowboy back rolled his revolver into its
holster.
The sheriff flipped his gun up and the Cowboy drew and shot
him between the eyes.
Now the turquoise-draped man turned to the small crowd.
“Anybody else have objections?”
“No, it was a fair fight. More than fair.” “He was
crooked as a ram's horn anyway.” “That's right, and none of us could
stop him. We thank you.”
The tall man nodded in return.
It was the next morning, breakfast was over, and now it was
time for him to ride.
“Will you be all right, Maria?”
“Si, I will be, for now I have the memories of two great
men. Mauuel and you.”
The Cowboy mounted, took a second to look at the small
dusty town; then galloped away as if the memories were catching up to him.
They talk of the man that saw no jails,
And shot as straight as a westward trail,
And some would swear and some would shout,
And the women smiled when they thought about –
The man with the Navajo jewelry.
(From the Ballad of the Turquoise Cowboy)
©2004 StoriesByEmail.com
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