The two rolled on the ground for a moment, then John was able to bend his knees and get his feet into the Indian’s stomach. Because he was on his back, beneath the Indian, it gave him leverage and he straightened his legs, throwing the Indian away from him.
Quickly, John got to his feet and pulled his knife. The Indian had regained his own feet almost as quickly, and now the two men were facing each other. John was in a crouch and armed with a knife, which he was holding low with the blade parallel to the ground; the Indian was more upright, and he was holding a war club.
They moved around each other in a rather macabre dance, the Indian making a few motions with the war club, while John merely moved his knife back and forth like the head of a coiled rattlesnake.
Suddenly the Indian, with the club raised over his head, rushed at John. John leaned to one side so that when the Indian brought the club down, he missed. John counterthrusted with his knife, and the blade penetrated the Indian’s stomach all the way to the hilt.
John withdrew the blade then, and as the Indian clamped both his hands over the belly wound, John made a slicing motion, cutting the Indian’s throat. The Indian collapsed, and died quickly. John removed the Indian’s liver, threw it away, then remounted and rode on.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Irwin, Colorado—1872
Smoke had come for Preacher, issuing him a personal invitation to come visit him so he could see the new house he had built for Sally at the ranch he was calling Sugarloaf. They were at least a day’s ride away from Sugarloaf, and so stopped for the night in Irwin.
“Here’s your food, gentleman,” one of the bar girls said a moment later, carrying the two plates to the table.
“Thanks,” Smoke said. He handed the young woman a quarter.
“Thank you, sir,” she said, smiling broadly.
“How’s your new ranch comin’ along?” Preacher asked.
“It’s coming along real good,” Smoke said. “I’ve hired me a few hands to help out around the place.”
“You goin’ to raise cattle or horses?”
“Well, I tried raising horses when I was married to Nicole. They can be plumb ornery critters, there’s no getting around that. I may raise some horses, but most likely it’ll be cattle.”
“I expect that’s the best way to go,” Preacher said.
Preacher’s buckskins were nearly black, his long white hair and beard were matted and, no doubt, Smoke thought, filled with critters, and there was a leatherlike patina to his skin that Smoke knew was an accumulation of dirt. For himself, Preacher’s appearance wasn’t a problem. Smoke had lived with him for a long time and he knew there were many times when he looked just like Preacher did now.
But, he was taking Preacher home with him to see Sally. And Sally, coming from the East, and not only from the East, but from a fine family, was used to being around people who paid a little more attention to their personal appearance. Smoke himself had developed a habit of good hygiene, at least when he could satisfy that habit. And he knew that he had to do something about Preacher’s appearance before they reached Sugarloaf.
“Preacher, what do you say we get us a hotel room and take us a bath after we eat?”
“I had me a bath,” Preacher said.
“What? Just when did you have a bath?”
“I don’t know . . . three, maybe four months ago.”
Smoke laughed. “Four months ago?”
“All right, maybe it was six months ago, what difference does it make? I mean, just how many baths does a feller need in one year, anyhow?”
“I tell you the truth, Preacher, your stink don’t bother me none at all. But Sally can be just real particular about things like being clean ’n smelling good, and all that. And she’d probably like it better if you took a bath, and got cleaned up some before we get there.”
“Hrummph,” Preacher grunted. “If I had known you was goin’ to turn into such a fancy Dan about bathin’ ’n all, I woulda never took you in to raise.”
“Yeah, you would’ve,” Smoke said. “You liked havin’ someone to train and boss around.”
“Boss around? When did you ever do anything I asked you to do?”
Leaving the café, the two men went into the hotel and walked up to the counter.
“Yes, sir, can I help you gentlemen?”
“We’d like a couple of rooms. And a bath,” Smoke said.
The clerk looked at Preacher with an obvious sense of displeasure in what he was seeing. “Both of you will be wanting a bath, I take it?”
Before Smoke could answer, Preacher spoke up. “Yeah, both of us will be wantin’ to take a bath. What do you think, that we’re some kind of heathens what don’t never bathe?”
“Very good, sir. That will be three dollars. A dollar apiece for the rooms, and half a dollar apiece for the baths.”
Smoke lifted a small buckskin pouch to the counter, then poured out a pile of gold and silver coins. He moved the coins, many of them twenty-dollar gold pieces, around with his finger until he found three silver dollars.
“Here you are,” he said.
Sitting in the lobby of the hotel was a man named Angus Flatt. When he saw the sack of gold coins emptied on the check-in desk, he took in a deep breath. There had to be several hundred dollars there.
He left the lobby, then hurried down to the Hog’s Breath Saloon, where he found Moe James, playing solitaire.
“Hey, Moe, how much money you got?” Angus asked.
“I ain’t got no money a-tall, so don’t be askin’ me to lend you any.”
“I ain’t askin’ to borrow any money,” Angus said. “What I’m askin’ for is, I just seen me away to make two or three hunnert dollars real easy. And I was wonderin’ if you wanted in on it?”
“If it’s all that easy, why are you offerin’ me a chance at it?” Moe replied.
“On account of because it would be a lot easier for the two of us to do it. And I’m tellin’ you, there’s enough money we could divide up, ’n still have more money than either one of us have had for a whole year.”
“Where is this easy money?”
“Some man come into the hotel a little while ago, and when he paid for it, why, you shoulda seen all the gold coins that poured out of his bag. I’ll bet there’s three or four, or maybe even five hunnert dollars there.”
“So we’re just goin’ to ask him to give the money to us?”
“Yeah,” Angus said, as a big smile spread across his face. “We’re goin’ to ask him while he’s takin’ hisself a bath.”
The hotel had a bathing room, complete with a large bathtub as well as a water-holding tank and a small wood-burning stove by which to heat the water. Smoke started the fire, then went back to his room to wait for the water to heat. He walked over to the window and stood there, just looking out over the town, watching the commerce for a few minutes. Leaving the window, he lay down on his bed for about fifteen minutes, until he was sure that the water would be warm enough for a bath. Then, taking a change of clothes, a bar of soap, and a towel with him, he started down the hall toward the bathing room.
Just before Smoke opened the door, he stopped. He had the soap and the water was hot. There was no excuse Preacher could come up with for not taking a bath now, so he was going to let Preacher go first. He walked back down the hall, then knocked on Preacher’s door. “Preacher?”
The door opened. “Yeah?”
“I’ve filled the tub with hot water for you. Here’s your soap and towel.”
“What’d you do that for?”