Fistful of Feet (12 page)

   “You don’t have to tell me anything.”

   “I know I don’t but now I want to.”

   “I imagine that’s something most people wouldn’t want to talk about.”

   “That’s true but you’ve been kind to me so I don’t mind telling you,” Calamaro said. He stared at the floor as he spoke. “My wife and daughter were killed by some men and since then I’ve just been trying to find some peace. I spend a lot of time grieving and a lot of that grieving involved me being a mean son of a bitch. But I think that part of me has passed on.”

   “I could see that.”

   “And since then, every time I’m with a woman, a whore or whatnot, I close my eyes and think of my wife. I know that sounds like a lie but it’s not. I just can’t bear the thought of my wife being gone so I just try to get some of those feelings back. That sounds strange, I know, screwing women while mourning my wife but that’s just what I end up doing.”

   Betty smiled. “That’s sweet in a strange sort of way.”

   “Guess so. I don’t know. I don’t imagine my wife would like it if she were alive.”

   “I’m sure she’d be okay with it. You’d be surprised at how understanding a woman can be.”

   “Maybe,” Calamaro said. He stood up from the couch. “My daughter was only one years old when she was killed. That probably hurts worst of all, knowing I’ll never get the chance to talk to her, have a conversation with her, get to know her, see her married and have children of her own. A child that young is still a baby, still learning about the world but now she’s…..”

   “She’s in heaven, Calamaro, don’t you forget that.”

   “Not sure I believe in heaven, Betty. Some men shoot your wife and child, you tend to think the Lord don’t care much about his flock or maybe that God died way back when and he no longer has the power to protect anybody. Why the hell would he let some bastards shoot an innocent baby that’s done nothing wrong? What part of his divine plan is that? You know what my preacher said after it happened? He said that it was all God’s plan to bring me back to church, bring me back to the Lord. If God thought that was going to bring me back, he can go to Hell.”

   Betty had expected tears to well up in his eyes when speaking about his dead wife and child but instead she saw rage.

   “I can understand that,” she said. “You mind if I ask? Are you out for revenge? You tracking the men who did it?”

   “No.” The rage in Calamaro’s face subsided. “I already killed them. They were soldiers fighting for the Union. They weren’t good soldiers, just men who took up arms to fight the Confederates. Hell, I don’t think they even cared about the Union. I think they just wanted to shoot people.”

   Betty said, “I’ve met a lot of soldiers who are like that.”

   “Well, these bastards thought my wife was a spy on account she was born in Kentucky and had family there. They heard some nasty rumors about her. They shot her and when my daughter wouldn’t stop crying, they shot her, too. They were stupid enough to hang around and eat the dinner that my wife had prepared for me. I came home while they were having at the food.”

   Calamaro took out a cigarette, lit it, and then offered one to Betty. She shook her head.

   “I was lucky I had my pistol with me. I was even luckier that the bastards were worn out from eating and drinking. You should’ve seen their faces, all messy with food like they were pigs on a farm. I saw what they done, saw the bodies lying there two feet from where they were eating. Then I shot them all dead. I didn’t have to think about it. My hand just grabbed my pistol and it was like my body was moving by itself. Bang, bang, bang. It was over that quick.”

   Betty walked over to the couch and sat next to him. She put her hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry about your family and I’m sorry that I made you feel you had to explain it to me. It was none of my business.”

   Calamaro said, “You know, you’d think a man might feel satisfied having killed the men who killed his family. But sometimes I wish that I came to the house after they left and that I’d have to hunt them down. At least then I’d have a purpose in life, something to do, something to think about, something to accomplish. The revenge was over too quick. Too quick to make me feel any better about seeing my wife and daughter dead on the floor.”

   Betty put her other hand on his leg and squeezed it. She didn’t intend it to be a means of seduction but that’s how Calamaro took it. He grabbed the back of her head and pushed it towards him, forcing their lips to meet. Betty’s tongue entered his mouth, exploring every inch of his teeth. She had always loved teeth.

   She whispered. “I’m sorry about your wife.” Another kiss. “I’m sorry about your daughter.” Another kiss. “I’m sorry about everything.” Another kiss but this one was deeper and wetter. She pulled him onto her and then felt his erection as it poked the inside of her thigh. “Close your eyes, Calamaro. Close your eyes and think of her.”

   He did just that as they made love on the couch and then the floor. Betty kept her eyes open, looking at this handsome man as he entered her again and again. His eyes were closed but his mouth was open just a little bit. She wanted him to feel like he was making love to his wife again not just some whorehouse madam in a dusty town. His face was beautiful, she decided, not just handsome. Even his mangled ear was beautiful. She touched it gently.

   “Deeper, Calamaro, deeper,” Betty said softly. “I love you.” She felt him thrust deeper. “I love you.” She felt him thrust deeper still. “I love you!” She felt him thrust deeper and harder while he pressed his open lips to hers, kissing and licking her.

   A shout from the front of the brothel interrupted them.

   “Where is he?” it said, loud and forceful. “Where the fuck is that stranger?”

   Betty said, “It’s the sheriff. You have to leave. Stacklee will probably be able to stall him for a few minutes but that’s all.”

   Calamaro slowly opened his eyes and lazily rolled off her. He put his hat on first and then his boots. “Guess I’ll get going, then.”

   “What’re you going to do?”

   “Guess we’ll find out soon enough.”

   Betty pulled her dress down and stood up. “You best just leave. Just go. The next town is Keoma and it ain’t that far away. You leave now he probably won’t even bother you. The sheriff’s pretty lazy.”

   “Thanks but I’d soon as just stay here and see how things work out.”

   “You’re a stubborn son of a bitch, aren’t you?”

   “Yep.”

   Betty pushed him towards the door. “Now get! Use the back door! If you want to stay in town, fine, but don’t go having a shoot-out in the middle of my place.”

   Betty fixed up her hair and walked towards the front hoping she’d be able to convince the sheriff to leave. She wondered how he knew that Calamaro was there. Did Lady Troy tell him? She hoped not.

   Though he would have rather stayed and face the sheriff, Calamaro walked out. He went over to his donkey and started to untie it. That’s when he felt something hit the side of his head. At first he thought it was just a desert fly that flew into him but then he felt blood drip down his neck. He turned around and saw something fast coming towards his face. It was a lot bigger than a fly.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

   William Lyons looked down at the unconscious Calamaro. He turned to Nix. “Help me carry this fucker and that wooden donkey out of town. I have plans for him.”

   They dragged Calamaro and Sartana the donkey behind the buildings, parallel to Main Street. When they reached the doctor’s place, Lyons told Nix to wait while he went inside. A few minutes later, Lyons was pulling a small wagon behind him with Ryan Hickory lying in it. His legs had been blown off and the doctor did his best to bandage the stubs right above the knees. Chaps walked out behind them, limping but grinning ear to ear.

   Chaps said, “Wow. That was quite an experience.”

   “Shut the fuck up, you piece of shit,” Nix said.

   “Doctor West sure works miracles. What the hell were those things the doc put on you, Ryan?” Chaps said.

   “I don’t know. Looked like leeches to me but bigger,” Ryan said.

   Chaps said, “They changed colors, too. You see that? And they smelt like honey and burning meat. I almost ate one of them.”

   William Lyons turned around. “Both of you. Shut the fuck up.” Then he turned to Nix. “You come to me asking for help and I tell you I’ll do something about it and just to wait for me and what the hell do you do? You go ahead and start more trouble. And then what happens?” He pointed at Ryan. “This asshole’s legs get blown off.”

   Nix started gesturing with his hand, getting more aggressive than he usually would get when talking to Lyons. “We were just going to watch for him, maybe fool with him a little bit but I got anxious, know what I’m saying? You can’t fault a man for that.”

   “You really are a stupid son of a bitch, Nix. But now you can redeem yourself. You’re going to drag this cocksucker into the desert, the spot they call Cuchillo’s Point. You know where it is?”

   “Yeah. What do we do with that wooden thing?”

   “I already told you. Bring it along.” William Lyons dropped the handle to Ryan’s wagon and looked at Chaps. “You can pull this asshole.”

   William led them out of town towards Cuchillo’s Point. He never could figure out why it was called that considering it wasn’t a point at all but rather a rocky area with a few shriveled trees right in the middle of the desert. He had used it plenty of times for this sort of thing and sometimes thought he should rename it. He could call it Lyons Mouth and so everyone would know that William Lyons had named it and that it was his in a way. He’d like that.

   After they walked the mile and a half to Cuchillo’s Point, Lyons said, “Stop here.” He walked over to a rock and pulled out a small shovel. He threw it over to Nix. “Start shoveling.”

   Nix made a disgruntled face but when he saw William’s eyes, he quickly got to digging. He dug a narrow hole five feet deep, just enough room for Calamaro’s body. Lyons dumped Calamaro in there feet-first. Then he had Nix put the sand back so that only Calamaro’s head was visible above the ground.

   William Lyons took out a small razor from his pocket. He crouched down and then slid the blade across Calamaro’s cheek several times.

   “Wake up, asshole,” he said.

   Calamaro’s eyelids started to flutter and then opened slowly.

   Nix laughed. “Yeah, wake up!” He kicked sand into Calamaro’s face. It was enjoyable seeing the guy buried up to his neck, helpless and bleeding from razor cuts. It was almost worth it getting that shot glass thrown into his eye.

   Ryan banged on the side of the wagon. “Pick me up! Pick me up!” Chaps lifted him up and brought him closer to Calamaro. Ryan threw a few punches and even tried to throw a few kicks but then realized that he had no legs and so all that effort was useless. He pulled down his pants in the front and started to piss on Calamaro’s head.

   “Look! That woke him up!” Nix said, kicking more sand so that it mixed in with the urine.

   Calamaro didn’t say a word. There was no screaming, no cussing, no begging. He simply stared up at the men who surrounded him.

   William Lyons put his face an inch away from Calamaro’s. “You don’t have anything to say? You don’t want to ask us why we’re doing this, why you’re buried up to your neck in the desert? You’re not at all wondering about that?”

   The only response was a slight shaking of the head.

   “It always surprises me when assholes mistake stupidity for bravery,” Lyons said, putting his razor up to Calamaro’s cheek again. With his other hand he grabbed some flesh and started cutting it off with the razor. He looked surprised when the man didn’t scream out in pain. Calamaro simply stared at him.

   The other men just hooted and hollered at the sight of William Lyons carving a piece of flesh off the guy’s cheek. They found it funny that this stranger wandered into town thinking he was tough and now finding out that he was nothing but a head growing out the ground, a head that was going to be carved up like a slab of beef.

   After he had a few slivers of flesh in his hand, Lyons said, “Open your mouth.” He put the pieces up to Calamaro’s lips but the mouth did not open.

   “Open it!” Nix kicked the back of Calamaro’s head. That did the trick. The mouth opened and Lyons stuck the flesh in there. “Eat it,” Lyons said. “Eat your skin.”

   The men watched as Calamaro slowly chewed his own cheek-flesh and then swallowed it. They cheered. Chaps clapped so loud that the sound seemed to echo for miles.

   “How’s it feel to eat your own flesh? Do you want to vomit? Go head and vomit if you want to. We’ll just scoop it up and make you eat that, too. Maybe we should wait until you shit your pants and then dig you up, make you eat your own shit.” Lyons said, sticking his fingers into Calamaro’s mouth. “You like me sticking my fingers in there? You want to pretend my fingers are a big cock? You want to suck on them? Come on, suck, then. Suck!”

   Calamaro wouldn’t comply so Lyons just stuck his fingers down his throat and pulled them out violently. Then he took a flask out of his jacket pocket. It was small and silver with the inscription
To William, from your brother, Jack
.

   “I guess you must need something to wash that down with, huh?” he said, unscrewing the top of the flask and holding it close to Calamaro’s lips. “Open up and drink. Drink, bastard, drink!”

   Calamaro opened his mouth and let Lyons pour the liquid down his throat. He swallowed as much as was poured and then closed his eyes. Lyons slapped him in the mouth. “Open your fucking eyes, asshole. You’ll be dreaming soon enough.” He laughed and then the other men started to laugh.

   Chaps said, “What was in that flask?”

   “Just something to help the man dream. Every man deserves some dreams before death,” Lyons said, standing up and putting the flask back into his pocket. “I don’t want him closing his eyes, though. Go get some cactus needles and make sure he can’t close them.”

   Chaps said, “Why don’t we just shoot him?”