He sucked at his bottle. “I returned to the Arapahoes but they did not want me. They said I was not an Indian, nor was I a Mexican. I was a mongrel. They brought me to the tribe when I was an infant. I do not know what happened to my actual parents. They were probably tortured and killed.
“I learned to love weapons and practiced hours upon hours in using them. I stole here and there to have weapons made—like my shotgun. I learned to draw as fast as a snake’s tongue flicks toward an enemy, and I armed myself with knives and other instruments of death. I killed seven men in Tombstone, and I took an ear from each. There were many others in many towns.”
“Why did you fight these men?”
“Killing is what I do. My medicine demands that I kill. I do not seek prey, but when men challenge me I kill them and take their ears. This is what the gods want from me, and this is what I do.”
“How many have you killed?”
“It makes no matter. I do what I do.”
Will leaned back in his chair, not realizing he’d been moving closer and closer to Gentle Jane. Will took a snort from his bottle and then pushed it aside, the whiskey rising back into his throat. He swallowed hard.
“Why the name Gentle Jane?”
“You white eyes speak lies constantly. The treaties—the grants of land that were already ours, the cholera blankets, the tainted beef, Wounded Knee—all of that made me want to lie to you even about my name, lie until it came time to fight. When it came time to fight I no longer lied. My hands and my weapons and my medicine speak for me.”
“But Jane—why are you with us?”
“I have said this but you haven’t listened. White men rarely listen, rarely understand. Austin is my brother. I will fight to the death at his side. I will tell you this: One Dog will die, as will his men.”
“One Dog will die by my hand, Jane. No other. You must understand that.”
“How intelligent are you?” Jane asked.
“I’ve had a .45 pointed at you since we sat down at this table.”
Jane grinned, showing white teeth. “And my shotgun has been quite ready to blow you in half if need be. All I need do is touch a trigger.”
“Me too, Jane—and I’d split your head before you fired.”
“Maybe.”
“For sure.”
“Say, boys,” Austin interjected rapidly. “What is this horseshit? Ain’t we s’posed to be brothers? This is pure crazy. C’mon. Put up the iron.”
Will’s eyes and those of Jane were locked, not in a threatening fashion, but in a cautious one—and an exploratory one. Both wanted to delve into the other man’s mind, to see what danger he may present, to see what made him who he was.
“C’mon, dammit,” Austin said. “Let’s settle down here. You had your contest. I don’t know what even started all this.”
Jane barely showed his teeth in a smile or grin and moved his cut-down from under the table to on top of it, the dual barrels pointing at the wall. Will brought his pistol up and placed it between a collection of empty beer mugs.
“I read men through their eyes, Will,” Gentle Jane said. “That’s where the true window is. I will fight for you.”
“I know a bit about men myself,” Will said. “I gotta say you’re pure crazy, Jane, but I want you with me and I want you to trust me. Can we do that?”
Jane picked up his bottle and took a long snort. He handed it to Will. Will had had enough booze—what he wanted was sleep. He sucked at the bottle and handed it to Austin. He too drank.
“I will say that now we can trust one another,” Jane said. “Will we be partners? I think not. Will we be brothers? Never. But I will fight with you and Austin and we will crush One Dog the way a boot crushes a cockroach. Is this not true?”
“It’s true.”
“You will pay me money?”
“Yes.”
Will pushed his chair back rather clumsily, picked his pistol off the table, and dropped it into his holster. “I’m drunker’n a hoot owl jus’ now an’ I need some sleep. If you boys want to go on drinkin’, that’s up to you.” He dragged a golden eagle out of his pocket and dropped it on the table. “This is on me. Give the ’tender some coin—the poor sumbitch has been hidin’ behind the bar forever. Tomorrow morning we can make some plans.”
“Plans?” Jane spit after he said the word. “You know where One Dog is, no?”
“Prolly right outside of town,” Will said.
“Is good. We attack him in the morning, just before the sun greets the sky. It is my understanding that these men smoke ganja and drink heavily, that they abuse the sacramental mushrooms. Their fighting skills—if they have any—will be dulled in the morning. That is the time to strike.”
“Makes good sense,” Austin said.
“It does, it truly does,” Will said. “We saddle in the dark and we swing around the town until we find their camp. It’s a good plan, Jane.”
“We’ll shoot their asses off,” Austin said.
“Thass . . . that’s the whole idea. I gotta sleep. I’m drunk. I’m tired. I’ll see you boys in a few hours.” Will stumbled toward the staircase.
“White men cannot absorb liquor,” Jane observed.
“Bullshit. I’m white an’ I can drink long after you fall under the table, Jane.”
“We shall see.”
When Will came down the stairs, Gentle Jane was seated where he’d been the night before, with a schooner of beer in front of him. Austin was sprawled next to a tipped chair, a puddle of vomit his pillow on the floor.
Will nudged Austin with his boot. His eyes slowly opened. “Damn,” he said.
“Can you ride?”
“ ’Course I can ride. I was jus’ takin’ a little nap.” He began to gag and heaved again onto the floor. “There,” he said, “I got rid of all that shit. Let’s saddle up.”
“Jane—you OK?”
“Of course. I’ve already saddled my pony. He awaits me.”
“Pony? He’s as big as—”
“He’s my pony.”
“Right.”
Will watched carefully as Austin saddled his horse. Amazingly enough, his hands were steady and his eyes clear.
There was a bit of a tussle when Jane’s horse wanted to lead and Slick didn’t like that at all. The two postured and snorted and snaked their heads out to get a bite of hide, but neither reared into an actual fight.
“Idjits,” Will said.
“Stop here—let them discuss it,” Jane said. They drew rein. The horses sniffed and backed and snorted and pawed the ground. Slick bucked a couple times, but he stayed out of Jane’s horse’s range.
“Smart animal,” Jane said. “He knows that my pony would tear him apart. He needs to show his manhood, but he’s too bright to fight. I will be a few strides in front of your good horse.” He tapped his heels against his horse’s sides and they set off, Slick ten feet behind the huge animal.
“You done the right thing,” Will said quietly to his horse, stroking his neck. “If there’s no possible way to win a fight, you gotta back off.”
Austin was pasty-faced and a bit trembly now, but he was as good as his word, and he rode without a complaint. He positioned himself a couple of yards to Will’s left, his horse attempting to hold back from Jane’s animal.
The plan was simple; it had been set in place the night before. Find One Dog and his hostiles and crush as many of them as possible.
“It is no plan,” Gentle Jane had said, “and often no plan works most effectively. We ride to their last camp and find them there, or riding toward us. It makes no difference. We kill, and then we run back to town.”
They’d been in the saddle for well over an hour when Jane held up his arm to signal a halt and reined in.