CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

   

   “Hey Sheriff,” Bluford said. “I have to tell you something.”

   “Yeah?”

   “Stacklee already knows and maybe Betty, too. I just think I’d feel better if I was honest about it.”

   Sheriff Doyle shrugged. “So spit it out. What?”

   “I’m a cheat,” he said. “A card cheat.”

   The sheriff shook his head.

   “Boy, do you think I give a good goddamn about that now?”

   Bluford blushed. “What do you mean?”

   “We were attacked by Indians for Christ’s sake and you’re confessing that you’re a cheat? You think I’m going to arrest you now?”

   “No. I mean, I think it’s just my conscience having to be cleared,” Bluford said. “And I thought maybe that this whole thing was God’s way of punishing me, sending those pagans to attack the town I was in. Maybe I brought it all down on us.”

   Sheriff Doyle said, “Bluford, you think God really thinks that much of you?”

   “What do you mean?”

   “You think out of all the people in the world, God’s going to put a bull’s eye on you just because you’ve been cheating at some cards or something? If there really is a God, we’re all just insects to him, like scorpions. Hell, even lower than scorpions because we can’t even sting him. We’re like scorpions with no tails. So I assure you he doesn’t give a shit about you pocketing some aces in a poker game.”

   Bluford dropped his head. “Well….”

   “Don’t worry about it. It doesn’t matter now,” Doyle said. “In the long run, we’re all just insects.”

   Bluford thought of Lily. It was a strange feeling finding the mutilated body of a woman you had just screwed. He felt uneasy over the fact that he was the last man she had been with. A woman shouldn’t die right after being intimate with a stranger. She should die of old age in her own home after being with her husband. The whole thing was heartbreaking.

   The group was silent as they walked. Bluford was about to ask Stacklee how it came about that he was working for Betty when he saw something up ahead.

   Three men.

   He pointed and said, “Look.”

   The sheriff squinted in the sun. “Don’t look like Indians.”

   “Survivors, then?” Bluford said.

   “I don’t know. Maybe.”

   “So let’s go see.” Bluford walked over. The others reluctantly followed him.

   When Bluford got close enough, he recognized the men. He had seen them in Betty’s place and talked to the tall one, Sergio. When he got in earshot of the group, Bluford said, “Hey.”

   Sergio, Clayton, and Leonard looked at him but didn’t respond.

   When Bluford looked at Sergio’s face, he could tell that he made a mistake in approaching them. There were tears in the man’s eyes. He looked as if he’d just been through hell, even more hell than a bunch of crazed Indians attacking the town.

   The sheriff said, “Who are you?”

   He got no response.

   Bluford said, “That’s Sergio. I talked to him back at Betty’s.”

   Then Sergio and his two partners all looked at the canteens that Bluford and Betty were holding.

   Sergio grunted. “Water.”

   There was even more tension in the air as Sheriff Doyle took a couple of steps to put himself in front of Betty. “Yeah, it’s our water.”

   Clayton drew his pistol. None of the others even saw his hand go for it. He was that fast.

   “Hey, hold on a minute,” Stacklee said. “No need for the gun. We can give you a sip of water if you need it.”

   Sheriff Doyle said, “No, Stack. We’re not giving them shit.”

   “Oh?” Clayton cocked his pistol, aiming it at Doyle.

   “You heard me.” The sheriff drew his gun and aimed it right back at the bastard in the donkey mask. “You want to play bullet for bullet, that it?”

   Sergio said, “Hey.”

   The sheriff moved his eyes and saw that he had another gun aimed at him. What a bitch it would be if he got shot down right after surviving a goddamn Indian attack.

   Stacklee pulled his gun out from his waistband and aimed it at Sergio’s head.

   As they all stood there waiting for someone else to make the first move, Betty said, “You know he’s the sheriff, right?”

   Sergio let out a grunt that intended to be a laugh. “Sheriff? I just killed your mayor and you think I’d hesitate to kill your sheriff?”

   “You killed the mayor?” Betty said. She wasn’t upset but it was still shocking to hear that Mayor Douglas was dead and that the man standing in front of her had done it.

   “Yeah,” Sergio said. His gun hand was as still as stone.

   More silence.

   Everyone stared at each other. It was as if lifelong enemies were facing each other for the last time despite there being no history between them.

   Finally Doyle spoke. “Put your guns down. I won’t arrest you.”

   Clayton chuckled. “You think we’re worried about that?”

   Leonard said, “Okay. Looks like we got a stalemate here. Two guns against two guns. Do you know how we solve that?” He pulled his gun and pointed it at Stacklee.

   Betty stiffened. She was truly scared. The men looked like seasoned killers. Sheriff Doyle, on the other hand, didn’t seem as comfortable holding a gun. His hand trembled just enough to make her worry about the outcome.

   “You’re not getting the water,” Doyle said. “Not alive, you’re not.”

   Sergio grunted.

   The tension broke.

   Gunshots exploded as triggers were pulled.

   A bullet hit Stacklee in the shoulder, knocking him down. Another bullet hit Sheriff Doyle in the chest, sending him backwards onto a cactus. Bluford and Betty jumped to the ground, hiding behind a small boulder.

   Sergio was hit in the gut. He doubled over and squeezed another shot off, hitting the sheriff in the leg.

   Clayton’s head was blown away. His donkey mask fell off and was now covered with blood and brains. Through the gore, Betty saw a truly handsome face. It was sad that it had belonged to such a bastard.

   Though he didn’t want to admit it, Leonard knew that his old age had delayed his reflexes. He only managed to get one shot off that hit the Negro in the shoulder before he felt a red hot bullet tear through his stomach. Leonard turned his head to see Betty holding a gun. The bitch had shot him.

   Betty said, “Next man that moves gets a bullet.”

   No one moved.

   A few seconds of heavy breathing and bloody groaning and then Sergio slowly raised his gun. He aimed it at Betty.

   Before Sergio could get a shot off, another bullet exploded from Betty’s gun and his neck exploded.

   Leonard shouted. “Sergio!” He was feeling lightheaded and regretted having raised his voice. He would need all the energy he had in order to stay alive. Old age and bullets didn’t mix. So he whispered. “Don’t kill me.”

   “I wasn’t going to,” Betty said.

   “Shoot him, Betty,” the sheriff said. He was still draped over the cactus like a ragdoll.

   “No,” she said.

   Leonard was fading into death. He saw giant scorpions guarding a fiery gate. They smiled venomous grins, pointing their stingers at him like vicious rapist cocks. Leonard raised his gun. He wanted to blow those ugly bastards away. He wasn’t going to Hell without a fight.

   Betty watched Leonard’s eyes became milky as he raised his gun.

   She said, “Don’t do it.”

   Leonard heard only scorpion-babble as aimed his trembling hand.

   Stacklee pointed his gun at Leonard and pulled the trigger, killing the delirious old man. He didn’t enjoy it but he wasn’t about to stand by and let Betty get hurt.

   “Hey,” Doyle said. His voice was weak.

   Stacklee and Betty walked over to him. They started pulling him off the cactus but stopped when Doyle screamed in pain.

   “We got to get you off here, sheriff,” Stacklee said.

   Doyle shook his head. “No, forget it. I’m done.”

   “No, you’re not.”

   “Yeah, Stack. I am.” Sheriff Doyle’s body became limp but his eyes were still open and aware. “Listen. Just wanted to tell you before I go. I never had any hard feelings towards you. Never had a problem with you being a Negro or anything. I just wanted you to know that. I think you’re a good man.”

    “I appreciate that, sheriff.” Stacklee unexpectedly felt tears well up in the corners of his eyes. “I think you’re a good man, too.”

   Sheriff Doyle chuckled. “I’m still going to Hell, though.”

   “Even so, I imagine God won’t make it too hot for you.” He watched as the sheriff’s head turned to the side, his eyes gazing out at the desert. Betty took a step forward and kissed Doyle on the forehead.

   The sheriff didn’t feel Betty’s kiss, however. He was looking at Calamaro who was standing in the dust. Doyle didn’t believe it. Hadn’t he stayed back in town? Why was he now standing in the desert smiling at him?

   The image of Calamaro said, “When you’re about to murder a man, what do you look at?” He lifted his hands. “I’ve asked this question so many times and you know what everyone says? They say they look at the man’s hands. You know what I look at?” He pointed to his face. “I look at his eyes.”

   Then Calamaro burped, scorpions crawling out of his mouth and onto the ground. The sheriff thought that was strange. The scorpions rushed forward until they reached the bottom of the cactus that was holding Doyle. The creatures began to hum.

   Sheriff Doyle said, “I don’t understand.”

   The image of Calamaro laughed. “You’re not supposed to.”

   Betty and Stacklee watched the sheriff as he passed away, his eyes still looking into the direction of the empty desert.

   “Let’s go,” Stacklee said. Behind him, Bluford was standing stiff and nervous. All the violence he had witnessed this day was more than he had seen in his whole life.

   “Where’re we going now?” Bluford said.

   “Keoma, maybe. That is, if the Indians didn’t go there, too,” Stacklee said. He told Bluford to help him take the sheriff off the cactus. Then they started walking off, with Bluford dragging the sheriff’s body.

   After a few minutes, they saw someone in the distance. It looked like a woman in a dress. Stacklee stopped dragging Doyle and waved his hands. “Holy shit, it’s Kimama!”

   The Indian walked faster towards them, smiling. When he reached the group, he looked at the sheriff’s corpse. He frowned. “Death came.”

   Stacklee nodded.

   Betty said, “Can you help us bury him?”

   “I do not have my shovel but I will help.” Kimama motioned for them to follow him.

   Bluford said, “Can’t we bring him to Keoma and have him buried there?”

   “You want to explain how he was killed? They’re going to know Indians didn’t do it. Not like he’s all chopped up like the others,” Stacklee said.

   Bluford nodded.

   Kimama led them to a spot between two black boulders. “Here.” He started digging a hole with his hands and was soon joined by the others.

   When the body was in the ground, Kimama said a traditional prayer from his tribe. He held his hands up and covered his eyes. “Protect this man for he is not really dead but eternal. His spirit is alive. It is death that has died.”

   Then Stacklee said a short prayer he had learned from the church he went to as a child. “Lord, take the sheriff as your right hand man. He had a good heart even if the devil sometimes covered it with Hell-dirt.”

   Betty cried while thinking her own prayer.

   Bluford wasn’t religious and didn’t really know the sheriff too well anyway. He just kept his eyes down out of respect. So much death made him rethink his station in life. Being a professional cheat didn’t seem like such a productive way of living anymore. He thought that maybe he could learn to be respectable. Maybe Betty would open up a new business and let him work there. He’d have to remember to ask her.

   The group said their goodbyes to Kimama and then started off again, hoping to find solace in the town of Keoma.

   As she walked, Betty thought of Calamaro, the handsome stranger that had entered her town dragging a wooden donkey behind him. He had saved their lives and there was a chance that she’d never see him again. Betty didn’t want that to happen.

   Stacklee thought of death. He thought of all those people in town who meet their fates at the hands of those Indians. That was a shitty way to die. But really, was there a good way to die?

   Even if you spend your last earthly minutes in the arms of your husband or wife, you’re still leaving them for good and who knows for sure where you’re headed? Maybe there isn’t a Heaven or Hell like they tell you in church. Maybe you end up spending eternity riding on the back of a giant scorpion that keeps going in circles and you can’t tell him the right way to go because your mouth is full of dust.

   Or maybe you just end up becoming dirt. That’s probably more likely. All the dirt in the world is just the millions of people who died. That’s why you bury people in the ground so they’re closer to what they eventually become.

   Stacklee’s thoughts were interrupted by Bluford.

   “Hey Stack.”

   “Yeah?”

   Bluford lowered his voice so Betty couldn’t hear. “What do you think happens to people when they die?”

   It was as if the man had read his mind. Stacklee said, “I’m guessing no one knows for sure.”

   “Yeah, but what do you think?”

   “I guess we just rot until we’re dirt,” Stacklee said.

   “That’s a gloomy way to look at things, don’t you think?”

   “Well, if you get a better idea, let me know.”

   They continued walking through the desert, occasionally talking or stopping to take a drink of water. But they mostly kept silent.

   The journey to Keoma seemed to take forever as if the desert expanded its boundaries for the sheer purpose of allowing the three of them to reflect on death. Betty wondered if they’d ever make it. But even if they reached the town, at least she’d have Stacklee by her side and that made life a whole lot easier to endure.