My confrontation with Tristy Tolliver skipped my mind pretty quickly after it happened and I didn’t think any more about it. I certainly don’t like killing people, but there are some vermin walking on two legs in this world, and humanity would be better off without them. I considered Tristy Tolliver in that category, so my conscience was clear.
Pride Caldwell, the stage driver, might not have had the foggiest idea where I was going—and he wasn’t the only one. I did have long range plans, but no immediate ones, except to see what the next town held. I suspected it didn’t hold anything more than the previous one, but I was wrong about that. More on that in a moment.
I actually was going to write Kelly Atkins a letter. I did, but I didn’t send it. It had been kind of a spur-of-the-moment thing and I guess I was kind of lonely. Sometimes I thought a little too much about Julie or Robin, and when I did that, I tried to think about something else. And sometimes I thought about Kelly. I don’t even know what town I was in when I sat down to write it; Pothole or Porthole or something like that. I do think I was back in Montana, though.
I didn’t really tell her much in the letter. I said I was doing fine, I had spent a few months relaxing and fishing, and that I was sort of headed back that way and would probably be in Clearwater sometime that summer. I told her not to write back since I’d be traveling and not even sure where I’d be. Or when I’d be there. I did say that I missed her. But, like I said, I never sent it. I put it in an envelope, wrote her name on the front of it, then stuffed it all in my shirt pocket and forgot all about it. Phathole was getting to me, so I left and was glad to get shuck of the place.
I wasn’t even sure exactly where I was in relation to River Bend, but I knew the general direction—I had to head east and maybe a little south. Or north. I had never been in the country where I was now roaming, but I knew some of the landmarks around, and south, of River Bend, so I’d find it. If I couldn’t, I could always return to Rathole and ask somebody there.
The next dump I came to was called Upton, probably after the man who had founded it. It was a fairly typical looking burg, but in a pretty setting. Some mountains as a backdrop and a wooded stream winding through the center of it. It was when I crossed the wooden bridge of that stream that I got a bit of a shock.
It was mid-afternoon and I was looking around, as a fellow will do when he enters a strange town. There were the typical stores—haberdashery, bookstore, general store, grocery store, leather goods, clothing, a couple of restaurants; I had passed the saloons and brothels on the other side of the bridge so the town fathers had apparently done a good job in keeping the sinners from bothering the saints. And maybe visa-versa. There were some people walking along the boardwalks; a few of them looked at me—as people will do when a new fellow enters their strange town—but nobody seemed to be paying me much attention. Which suited me fine. I wasn’t paying them any attention, either.
Until I saw a young woman standing in front of the clothing store to my right. I did a double-take and then a triple-take, and she was giving me a good stare, too. It wasn’t that she was so pretty; well, she was, but she was pretty because, at first glance, I thought I was seeing Kelly Atkins. It took that second and third take to realize it wasn’t Kelly, but this lady could sure have passed for her sister, and maybe even a twin.
I had stopped my horse and we had looked at each other for a few seconds, and then I smiled, touched the brim of my hat in greeting, and was about to saunter off when I heard a voice yell, “Hey, saddle tramp, quit makin’ eyes at my girl.”
Figuring I was being addressed, I glanced over and a tall, shaggy headed, lanky man with a long face and buck teeth came running over to me. His eyes were a little wild. “Mind your own business, feller,” he said to me, standing right next to me and Ol’ Paint.
I had half a mind to pull my foot out of the stirrup and kick him, but I glanced quickly at the Kelly look-alike. She was watching, of course—as were a few other people now—and biting her lower lip with a worried expression on her face, so I just responded, “No interest intended, mister. Just resting my horse a moment. The lady’s all yours.” And I was about to ride on down the street and find the livery.
But I made the mistake of smiling at the young lady again, and Buck Teeth took offense at that, so he reached up to pull me off my horse. “I told you not to look at her,” he said, through gritted teeth, though I couldn’t figure out how he gritted them with the front ones being so crooked.
I let him pull me off Ol’ Paint, but as soon as my feet hit the ground, Buck Teeth had the business end of my revolver stuck up his nose. “I said I wasn’t interested, buddy. Maybe this will help your hearing.” And I twitched the gun a couple of times.
He began to do a quick crawfish. Putting his arms out, he said, “Ok, ok. Don’t shoot. I meant no harm. I’m just protectin’ my girl. You’d do the same.”
Maybe I would at that. I hadn’t even cocked the revolver and I pulled it from his face and holstered it. “Just keep your temper in check, Romeo. The next guy you jerk off his horse might not be as nice as me.”
About that time, the sheriff showed up and asked, “What’s going on here?” He was looking at me, none-too-friendly like.
“Oh, just a slight misunderstanding, sheriff,” I said, looking at Buck Teeth. “He thinks I’m interested in his girl and I think he’s ugly so we were just settling it like the gentleman we both are.”
The sheriff looked at Buck Teeth. “Beat it, Freddie. I saw what you did and you had no call to do it.”
Freddie Buck Teeth grumbled, “I just didn’t like the way he was lookin’ at—“
“I know you didn’t, but you still had no business bracing this fellow. He was just sitting his horse. Now, go.” And Freddie walked off, still mumbling.
The sheriff shifted his gaze to me. “I don’t like how you pulled that gun, mister. A little too fast for my taste.”
I was in no mood to palaver with the local law. So I put a foot in a stirrup and remounted Ol’ Paint. I looked at the lawman. “Then tell your fine citizenry to keep their hands to themselves. I don’t cotton to being yanked from my horse by some jealous lover. I don’t think you’d like it, either.”
“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean I’d have to pull a gun. Who are you, anyway?”
“I’m just riding through, sheriff. I’ll probably stay the night, get a meal and a room, and be out of town tomorrow. I don’t even go into saloons. I won’t cause you any trouble, unless it has buck teeth and comes looking for me first.”
He nodded. “All right, fair enough. But I’ll be around, just in case.”
“I’m sure the folks in this town will be happy to know that,” I responded, and nudged Ol’ Paint to get him moving. As he started off, I cast a gander over at Freddie and his woman, and she was giving him an earful and he didn’t look like he was enjoying it. I smiled, rode off, and thought nothing else of the incident, except boy, she sure looks like Kelly…
I went and stabled Ol’ Paint, then found a room at the Upton Hotel. Not a bad place, even had a restaurant, but I didn’t feel like eating there. I wanted to stretch my legs a bit, so I found the local hot dog stand, a place called Chili’s—nice pun, huh. Actually, it was a walk-in restaurant, and I took a table at the back, which, since I was the only customer, was my prerogative. I ordered a steak and it was tasty once I pushed the onions off the top. I hate the things, but they added a little flavoring to the meat.
The sun was steadily lowering, as it’s wont to do, and there were a lot of shadows on the street. I stood outside the restaurant for a few moments, not sure of my next step, but not wanting to go back to my hotel room yet. I spied the bookstore across the street and headed in that direction, thinking I might find a dime novel written about me. There weren’t any, and that disappointed me, but I did see this book written by some guy named God. It was called the Holey Bubble, or something like that, I didn’t pay much notice. He claimed he created the world, and then was going to have to save it after some woman ate too much. Well, having been married twice, I could certainly understand that part about a woman eating too much….
Before lightning bolts descend from heaven on me—or worse, some woman reads this—I ought to explain that, when I’m not breaking commandments about killing or coveting some guy’s gal, I was actually a fairly religious sort. Julie and I, and then Robin and I, went to church regularly, and I still made it on Sundays if I were in a town that had the particular brand of church I liked. I carried a Bible with me and, not finding anything in the bookstore that attracted me, I thought I’d spend the evening reading some of it. So I went back to my hotel room, kicked off my boots, lit the lamp, and propped up in bed. It was dark by then and I figured I could read myself to sleep.
Well, I was in the middle of Jeremiah chewing on the Israelites for all the adultery they had committed—and I was cheering him on—when there was a knock at my door. I had no idea who that could be and figured it was somebody at the wrong room, but when I opened the door, the Kelly look-alike was standing there.
I’m sure my face registered my surprise; her face registered extremely uncertainty. I said “hello” and she tried to smile but it didn’t come off too well.
“May I…talk to you?” she asked me. She was as nervous as a turkey at Thanksgiving.
“Well, I…guess so,” I replied. I had no reason to say no. But I wasn’t going to invite her into my room, lest someone see her and think I might be breaking another commandment. “Why don’t you meet me down in the hotel restaurant? Let me get my boots on and I’ll be right down.”
She nodded, tried the smile again, and said, “Thank you. I’ll wait for you there.”
I was curious, to say the least, and was struck again by how she resembled Kelly, and almost as much up-close as she had from a distance. The likeness was strong—same age, black hair, about the same height and build, but this lady had blue eyes rather than green. A very attractive woman. Not many of them come knocking on my door. None ever had, once I thought about it for a couple of seconds.
Actually, I was a bit hungry—I didn’t have desert at Chili’s—so I thought maybe a piece of pie would taste just about right. I descended the stairs, entered the restaurant, which was at the back of the hotel, and spotted her sitting at a booth in the rear of the room. I joined her, sitting opposite, of course.
“Thank you for coming,” she said.
“I confess, I was a little surprised to see you,” I began. “Not many pretty women come knocking on my door.” None ever had, yada yada yada.
She smiled at the compliment; she seemed a little more composed. At that moment, the waitress came over. I ordered a piece of cherry pie and a glass of milk, but the lady opposite me didn’t want anything. Well, at least she wouldn’t eat too much, but then, I don’t know what she had for supper.
“So, what’s your name?” I asked her, once the waitress had left.
“My name is Kelly Kramer,” she replied, and, when I nearly fell out of the booth, frowned a little at my reaction. “Is there something wrong with my name?”
I recovered, and half-chuckled. “No, not at all. I love the name Kelly, actually. It’s just that you look very much like another Kelly I know. That’s why I stopped and stared at you for so long today. For a moment, I thought you were her.”
She seemed satisfied with that explanation. “I’m sorry about what happened this afternoon. Freddie is very protective and becomes jealous very easily.”
I smiled at her. “Well, I guess I can understand that. If I had such a lovely lady for a girlfriend, I might be a little upset, too, if some saddle bum was giving her the once over.” I assumed girlfriend, and not wife, because Kelly wasn’t wearing a ring.
As I was speaking, she was shaking her head. The waitress brought my pie and milk right then, so Kelly waited until we were alone again before she spoke. “I’m not Freddie’s girlfriend.” There was a little acid in her voice—and face—and that reminded me of Kelly Atkins as well. “He’d like for me to be, he wants me to marry him, but I’m not interested.” Then, she said, “Oh, he’s nice enough, he’s just…not what I want.”
I took a bite of the pie and almost broke a tooth. After washing it down with some of the milk, I responded, “Well, I guess that’s between you and him and really none of my affair. Did you come knocking on my door just to apologize for his actions and explain your relationship with him?” I had a hunch there was something else and I wanted to push the conversation along.
“No,” she replied. Then, she took a deep breath and looked down at her hands, fingers locked, on the table in front of her. I got the impression she didn’t want to look me in the eyes. “I guess I’ll just come right out with it.”
“The direct route is usually the best.” Except when I’m traveling.
Now she did look at me. “You’re just passing through, right?”
I nodded. “Plan on leaving in the morning. Before Freddie or the sheriff see me again.” Another broken tooth.
“You look like a nice man.”
I sort of shrugged. “Thank you. I try to be. Usually.”
“You seem pretty capable with your gun, too.”
I looked at her. “This is not the direct route, Kelly.”
She sighed again, and looked back down at her hands. “Ok.” Another hesitation, then, “Can I go with you?”
My expression must have registered more surprise than when she had knocked on my door. And probably a measure of disbelief, with a little bit of “you’ve got to be kidding” thrown in. I figured that because she almost immediately said, “Can I explain?”
I pushed half the pie—the part I hadn’t eaten—away from me. “I guess you better. Your request is a little unusual, to say the least.”
She was in angst again. “I know, and I know what you must think of me. And you have no idea how hard this is. But, Mr….can I ask your name?”
I had no reason not to lie, so I did. “Samuel Scott. Sam, for short.” Another broken commandment. I hope Jeremiah’s not listening… But I’m finding, more and more, that it makes things easier, for me, if I’m not Rob Conners. I had signed the hotel register Sam Scott, so at least I was being a consistent liar.
“Ok, Mr. Scott—“
“Sam.”
She tried the smile again. “Sam.” Her eyes back down to her hands again. “I’ve lived in Upton all my life.” Poor girl… “My parents are dead now. I have a job at a local diner, making pennies. One of the madams down the street keeps hitting me up, telling me I could make a whole lot more money working for her. And I’m sure she’s right. But I’m just not made that way.” She looked back up at me. “Mr. Scott—Sam—I mean, can you understand?” Her face showed her agony. “There’s nothing for me in the town but…but…Freddie.” And she said the last word with some acid again. “I’m 24 years old. I just…don’t want to stay here any longer. I’ve got an aunt and uncle up in Bandera near the Canadian border, and they’ve been trying to get me to move up there with them for a long time. Bigger town, more opportunities, change of life. I think I’d like to go.”
“Why don’t you take the stage?”
“It only comes once a week; it left this morning. It takes about three weeks to get to Bandera because it goes on a roundabout route and has three two-day layovers. And I don’t have the money.”
“What if I’m not going to Bandera?”
“You probably aren’t, but you came in from the west and that probably means you’re heading east. Bandera is northeast so at least you could get me a little closer, maybe where I could afford to catch the stage the rest of the way.”
I must have still had a skeptical expression on my face because she looked at me then glanced away. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I guess it’s a dumb request. I’m just…desperate.” I thought I saw some tears in her eyes. If she was lying and acting, she was good at it.
And I didn’t think she was lying or acting. Her situation and desires were perfectly understandable. A young, pretty woman in a totally dead-end town. If Freddie was the best she could hope for, then “desperate” was probably a mild word for her feelings.
“Kelly, you don’t know a thing about me. I might be a sex-crazed, ax murderer for all you know.”
She gave me a frustrated, exasperated look. “Oh, come on, you’re not that way. I can tell. And even if you are, how could that be any worse than a life with Freddie?”
I had to smile at the one. “Is he really that bad?”
She sighed. “No, he’s not that bad. But it doesn’t change the fact that I want to try something else in life. If I come to the conclusion that Upton’s the best place for me, I can always come back.” She looked at me. “Where are you going? Do you mind me asking?”
“I’m eventually going to end up in River Bend. Have you ever been there?”
“No. I’ve heard of it, though. Pretty place, from what I’m told.” Then, back to the topic. “Sam, I won’t be any trouble, I promise. I can cook and clean, I’ve done some fishing, I know how to shoot a gun though I’m not very accurate, I’ll do my best to hold up my end of the deal. If I prove to be a bother or you get tired of me, you can drop me off at the next town, no questions asked, no hard feelings. I won’t go all the way to River Bend with you and you don’t have to take me to Bandera. Just far enough to where I can afford the stage.”
I was tempted to ask her where River Bend was—from Upton—but I didn’t want to appear stupid. That might be worse than having her think I was a sex-crazed ax murderer. “Do you have a horse?”
She nodded. “Yes, but not a very good one. I can sell him and get a little more money for the stage.”
I considered her for a moment, then looked away, thinking. This was really a no-brainer. Only an idiot—or a sex-crazed ax murderer—would do what she wanted me to do. I could get into an awful lot of trouble hauling a single woman around with me. Not only would it not do my virtuous reputation much good, but if I really angered her, she could hit the next town, scream “kidnap” and “rape,” and the only way I’d avoid a rope was to be on the run from the law again. Needless to say, that’s not the way I wanted to spend the rest of my life. All that aside, I really had absolutely no desire to have her with me.
So, why was I even considering it?
Well, I’m not the only fool who’s ever been suckered in by a pretty face. What was that woman’s name who ate too much? Eve?
And…this lady…looked like Kelly Atkins. I would have taken Kelly Atkins…anywhere she wanted me to take her…
“All right, you want to ride with me to get out of this town. I can understand that. But look at it from my standpoint. Why should I take you with me? I’m doing fine as I am. I can make camp, eat what I want, go when I want to go, stop when I want to stop. I don’t have anybody to look out for but myself. You’re asking me to drag a woman along with me in the middle of very wild, untamed country, a woman who works at a restaurant and never been out of this dump. What’s in it for me but a hundred headaches?” I was being intentionally brutal because I wanted to see how she reacted. And, obviously, I didn’t mention some of the thoughts I related in the paragraphs just above this one.
And she did pretty much what I thought she would. She winced, then started to scoot out of the booth. “You’re right, it’s a stupid idea. I’m sorry to have bothered you. Thank you for at least listening to me.” And she started to leave.
“Kelly, sit down,” I said, waving her back to her seat. “I didn’t say I wouldn’t take you.”
She slowly slid back into the booth and I saw some hope in her eyes. “You mean, I can go with you?”
“I didn’t say that, either. This is utterly outlandish, you know that, don’t you? I have absolutely no reason to take you with me, except to help you out of a situation you don’t want to be in. I don’t know you and you don’t know me, I have no reason to trust you, you have no reason to trust me, and every reason not to because I’ve already told you one lie and will probably tell you more. And there’s no telling how many lies you’ve told me. We’re going to be out in that wilderness together…” I shook my head in doubt. “You’ve got a job, friends. I’m heading out tomorrow at sunup. Are you planning on just leaving without telling anybody?”
I didn’t much hope in her eyes any more. “Well, I was going to leave a note for Sarah…she owns the café where I work…”
“So it’s good-bye, nice to have known you, good luck, and kiss my foot, huh.” I chuckled. This was ridiculous. But…
I looked at her. She was picking at the crust of the pie I had left on the plate, a sad, dejected expression on her face. I imagine I was making her feel like an utter fool.
But…she reminded me of Kelly Atkins….
However, this Kelly had won and I think she knew it. I sighed. “Like I said, I’m leaving tomorrow at sunup. You cook, you clean, you do what I tell you to when I tell you to do it, you stay out of my hair and you especially stay out of my bed. If I get sick of you, I’ll remind you that you said I could drop you off at the next town, without any questions or hard feelings. Or you can leave whenever you want to. Is all that understood?” I was doing my dead-level best to be a horse’s behind in hopes that she’d decide…I was a horse’s behind…and not go with me.
Nope. She looked up at me and there were tears in her eyes but a small smile on her face. “You’ll really let me go with you?”
“You think about it tonight, Kelly, real hard—“
“Sam, I’ve been thinking about this for 24 years.” A bit of a hyperbole…
I chuckled. “Yeah. Well, there’s one more condition to your going with me.”
“What’s that?” she asked, still with hope in her eyes.
“You meet me on the road east one mile out of town at sunup. I’m not stopping to wait for you. You be there, or I’m gone.”
I’d said my piece. As rudely as I could, I got up, tossed some coins on the table to cover my pie and milk, and walked out of the room, not bothering to look back.
And the next morning, I rode out of town just as the sun peaked over the horizon. About a mile up the road, Kelly Kramer was sitting on an old nag, waiting for me.