“What the hell is going on around here?” he shouted. “I was an hour late getting relieved.”
“Ask those fellas,” one of the other guards said, pointing to the cell at the back of the guardhouse.
Wilson walked to the back, then saw Corporal Gibson and Carter in jail.
“Corporal Gibson, Sergeant Carter, what are you two doing in here?” he asked in surprise.
“That’s Private Carter,” Gibson said.
“Oh, yeah, Private. But what are you doing in here?”
“I tell you what,” Gibson said. “Wait until the others are asleep, then come back here and we’ll tell you.”
Wilson looked confused. “Why should I wait until the others are asleep?”
“Because I’m going to tell you where my money is,” Gibson said, “and I don’t want anyone else to hear it.”
“Your money?”
“Shhh,” Gibson said, putting his finger over his lips. I told you, I don’t want anyone else to hear. Wait until the others are asleep, then come back.”
“All right,” Wilson agreed, nodding his head. He walked back up to the front of the guardhouse, then lay on his bunk with his hands laced behind his head. “What money?” he asked aloud.
“What?” Pettigrew asked. Pettigrew was in the bunk next to his. “What’d you say?”
“Uh, nothing,” Wilson replied. “I was just thinking out loud, that’s all.”
Unlike Carter and Gibson, Wilson had been in the Army for less than a year, and had never been anything but a private. It was also likely that he would never be anything but a private, because he had not found Army life to his liking. Wilson had grown up on a farm in Missouri and left when a young girl on a neighboring farm got pregnant and told him he was the father.
Wilson knew that it was possible that he could be the father, but it was also possible for at least four others that he knew. He wasn’t ready to get married yet, especially if he was going to be tricked into it, so he left in the middle of the night and went to St. Louis, where he enlisted at Jefferson Barracks.
He regretted it almost immediately, and wished many times that he was back home, even if he did have to get married. Besides which, Lou Ellen wasn’t that bad-looking a girl. He could’ve done worse.
An hour later, when snores rent the darkened interior of the guardhouse, Wilson got up from his bunk and walked quietly back to the cell.
“You fellas asleep?” he called into the darkened cell.
“No, we’re awake,” Gibson said. He and Carter appeared just on the other side of the bars, barely visible in the little ambient light that was available.
“All right,” Wilson whispered. “I’m here. What is this about your money?”
“It’s not just my money,” Gibson answered. “It’s Carter’s money, and your money too, if you have balls enough to come with me tonight to get it.”
“Come with you tonight?” Wilson shook his head. “How am I going to go anywhere with you tonight? You are in jail.”
“You noticed that, did you?” Gibson said.
“Well, yeah, I mean ...”
“Get the keys to the cell,” Gibson said. “They are on the corporal’s desk.”
“How’m I going to do that with him there?”
“He’ll be posting the new relief soon,” Gibson said. “When he does, all you have to do is get the keys and let us out.”
“I don’t know,” Wilson said.
“Look, you been bitchin’ and moanin’ ever since you come in how much you hate the Army,” Gibson said. “Haven’t you?”
“Well, yes.”
“Then this is your chance. Let us out, we’ll go get the money, then we’ll each go our own way.”
“All right,” Wilson said. “All right, soon as the new relief is posted, I’ll get the key and let you two out.”
Although Ponci reached Mesquite before dark, he decided to stop outside town and wait until the sun set, because he didn’t want to ride in while it was still daylight. While he was waiting for nightfall, he utilized his time by finding a stout staff, cutting it to the right size, then crossing it at the top with a bar that would fit under his arm. The result was a usable crutch. It would have worked better if he had something with which to pad the armrest, but he had used his extra shirt and pants as bandages over the stump of his leg.
Eating a handful of grasshoppers and the fruit of a saguaro cactus, Ponci had his first food in three days. When night came, he waited outside town listening to the sounds of night creatures. He dozed off a couple of times, but woke himself up every time because he didn’t want to sleep through the night out here.
Then, when he figured it was about midnight, or even a little later, he remounted and rode into town. He had purposely waited until it was this late because he didn’t want to be seen. He knew that someone who came riding into town with only one leg would not only be noticed, he would also be remembered.
The town was very dark, with not a flicker of light from anywhere, not even from the cantina. But the bright full moon painted a soft silver halo around all the buildings and laid a shimmering path on the road before him. That provided him with enough illumination to ride down the familiar street until he reached the leather goods store. His horse didn’t like going through the narrow passageway between the leather goods store and the apothecary, especially as the two buildings crowded out what little light there was from the moon. But Ponci cajoled the animal, and kicked with his one good leg until they were through and into the open area that lay between Suzie’s crib and the rear of the leather goods store.
The inside of the crib, like every other building in town, was totally dark. Ponci took his horse around behind the crib and tied it off in the lean-to shed. The lean-to was less for the comfort of the animals, and more for the convenience of Suzie’s customers, who might not want the presence of their horses to give away the fact that they were visiting a soiled dove.
With his horse secure and out of sight, Ponci used his crutch to come around to the front of the little house. He reached up to the eave where he knew she kept an extra key.
It wasn’t there.
He felt around a bit more, but still couldn’t come up with the key. Where the hell was it? Finally, giving up on his search for the key, he knocked lightly on the door.
“Suzie,” he called.
He knocked again.
“Suzie?”
“Go away,” Suzie’s muffled voice called back from inside. “It’s too late to do any business.”
“Suzie, it’s me, Ponci. Will you open the damn door?”
“Ponci?”
“Yes. Open the door, will you? I can’t find the key.”
“I don’t keep it out there anymore.”
“Let me in.”
“Just a minute.”
Ponci heard her stirring around inside; then the door opened.
“The reason I don’t keep the key out here anymore is because Fargo ...” Then she gasped in mid-sentence when she saw him standing there on one leg and a crutch. “My God, Ponci! What happened to you?”
“Well, if you won’t keep me standing out here on the stoop and let me come in, I’ll tell you all about it,” Ponci said.
“Yes, yes, come in,” she said, stepping aside as he hobbled in.
Seeing the bed, Ponci hopped over to it, then sat down with a sigh of relief.
“Have you got anything to drink?”
“I’ve got some whiskey,” she said.
“Water first,” Ponci replied. “Then whiskey. And maybe something to eat.”
“All I have in the house is a can of peaches if that’ll do.”
“That’ll do fine. Open it. But first, I need a drink of water.”
Suzie scooped a dipper of water from the water bucket and handed it to Ponci, who drank thirstily and with such abandon that some of it trickled down his chin and onto his shirt. He handed the empty dipper to her.
“More,” he said.
“My, you are thirsty, aren’t you?” she said as she handed him the refilled dipper.