Six Guns Straight From Hell - Tales Of Horror And Dark Fantasy From The Weird Weird West (23 page)

“
Morning, ma’am,” said the first man, removing his hat as Miss Abigail opened her parasol to the morning sun and passed him by.

“
Morning, Potbury,” said the same visitor upon seeing Mr Potbury in the doorway.

“
Ah, Jake I see you’re in town early this morning. And you brought your ranch hand with you, I see. It’s good to see he’s on his feet again. I hope he’s working out well for you. Why don’t you just step inside and tell me –”

“
I ain’t exactly here to make no social call,” interrupted the man in an unfriendly tone. “I just come to settle some business with you before returning to my ranch.”

“
Oh? That so, Jake? And what sort of business is it you refer to?” replied Mr Potbury guardedly.

“
I’ve come to return what you gave me and collect a refund.”

“
What is it you wish to return?” said Mr. Potbury, though he already suspected what it was.

“
You’re looking at it. My ranch hand that you raised the other day.”

“
From here he looks fine to me, Jake.”

“
Well, he ain’t, and that’s a sincere fact. I just can’t use him the way he is. He keeps following me round like a mongrel dog. And he never speaks nor replies exceptin’ to ask the same question over and over again every five minutes. Listen; he’s gettin’ ready to speak again now.”

From out of the mouth of the dead man came a hollow, almost mechanical sound: “You want me and the boys to bring in them new head of cattle from the hills now, Mr. Hostler?”

“
Why, that’s great. Shows he’s a willing worker – that he’s starting to come to his senses,” said Mr. Potbury eagerly. “It’s a good sign, Jake.”

“
But we drove them cattle more ’an a week ago. And he don’t react to no new instructions.”

It must have been the last thing he recollects from before he died. He’ll soon be remembering other things and be able to take instructions from you again.”

“
He was the best damn ranch hand and wrangler I ever had,” groused Jake Hostler, as much to himself as Mr. Potbury. “It’s a shame and a waste. I paid good money in good faith. Twenty-four dollars I put down. But you already knew that,” he added, looking like he was about to spit nails.

“
Calm down for a moment, Jake, and hear me out.”

“
I’m as calm as I can be under the circumstances,” replied the rancher with clenched teeth.

“
You’ve got to understand that your ranch hand’s still in a transitional phase, Jake. It’s like he’s still in a dream. If you just wait a couple more days, his full memory of who and what he is’ll come back to him. He’ll be just like he always was; just you wait and see. In the meantime I’d recommend you keep him indoors–even keep him tied up if he won’t stay put.”

The advice seemed to fall on deaf ears, or on a mind already made up. “Them’s just words, Potbury. You’re just like a lawyer spreading honey over things that reek. I already give it four days, and that’s more ’an enough. Know what I think? I think my ranch hand ain’t right in the head and never will be right in the head. Seems to me it’s a clear-cut case of negligence. So unless you can give me back my twenty-four dollars I paid, I’m goin’ to have to go to the sheriff.”

“
Dammit, Jake. Be reasonable for just one moment. Those are hard words you’re laying at my doorstep.”

The rancher shook his head. “Nonetheless, them’s the facts of how I feel–and one thing I hate more than anything in all the world is the feeling I’ve been taken in and my hard-earned cash has gone to waste.”

“
I’m sorry you feel this way, Jake. I really am. As I said, if you just wait a couple... ”

“
No use in repeatin’ yourself, Potbury. I already know what you’re about to say. You can’t convince me I got my money’s worth when I know I ain’t. Well, I’ve come here to have my say, and that’s what I done.”

“
I’ve taken notice of it,” said Mr. Potbury bluntly. “The only thing I have to say to you is to give it more time. Seems to me, that’s the intelligent thing to do.”

The rancher arched back his head as if he’d just been hit by a crumpled wad of paper. “You’ve got no call to be insulting me, Potbury. Maybe I haven’t got the education you have, but I have my integrity.”

“
I’m not insulting you, Jake, not at all. Now why would I be wanting to insult a customer? I’m a businessman, pure and simple, through and through. I only think of what’s good for business, and that includes keeping the customer happy.”

“
Well, I’m not happy.”

“
That’s your prerogative. I just think you’re wrong, is all. You’re going about this all wrong if my opinion is worth anything.”

“
I don’t know that it is,” retorted the rancher with a touch of bitterness in his voice as he began to cross the line from civility to incivility.

Mr. Potbury opened his mouth as if to say something more but instead bit his lower lip and said nothing.

“
Well,” said the rancher, “I’ve given you fair warning, just the same as I’d give anybody I felt took advantage of me. I’ve tried to settle this dispute in my own way. Now I’m going for the sheriff.”

With no more to say, Jake Hostler put on his hat and turned sharply away. If he thought Mr. Potbury would call him back, he was mistaken. Holding his head high, he walked down the street toward his buck board wagon that was waiting. Following after him was his ranch hand, who again asked, “You want me and the boys to bring in them new head of cattle from the hills now, Mr. Hostler?”

After securing his ranch hand in the back of his wagon among sacks of grain and branding irons, Jake Hostler climbed into the front of his wagon. With a crack of his whip, he headed out, a stern, unyielding look fixed on his face as if it had been put there by one of his branding irons.

A few minutes later a new prospective client was in Mr. Potbury’s office sitting across from him.

“
What’s the name of the person you want raised, Jimmy?” said Mr. Potbury to the young wheelwright apprentice of about nineteen.

“
Not any person, Mr. Potbury,” answered the youth with a concerned look. “It’s my pony, name of Chandelier. We were passing along the trail atop Breakneck Gorge, where I was leading him by the tether, when he lost his footing and fell headlong down into the gorge. I never saw such a horrible sight or heard such a despairing cry in my life. Weren’t more than an hour ago, and I came to you directly. I figure it’d be cheaper to fix up this old horse than to buy a new one.”

“
A horse, you say? I’ve never raised a horse before.”

“
Couldn’t you try it just the same, Mr. Potbury? That horse sure meant a lot to me. He was the best horse I ever had.”

“
Hmm. I just had another client in here awhile ago who said the same thing about a person. Anyway, I just thought of something. Don’t you think that horse of yours must have suffered at least one or two broken legs on the way down that gorge?”

A realization came to the young man’s eyes suddenly. “I hadn’t considered that till now. I sort of thought that when you brought him back to life, he’d be whole again.”

“
Sorry, Jimmy, but that just wouldn’t be the case. Believe me, you wouldn’t want your horse back if he had a couple of broken legs. You’re better off keeping your money. In fact, wasn’t so long ago I raised Nat McGrue. You remember how a group of drunken men caught him and strung him up outside town because they thought he was the one who held up the Gold Label Saloon? Well, they felt real bad about it when they found out it wasn’t him. So they all chipped in and paid for me to raise him. Trouble was, his neck was still broke. Now when you see him walking around town, his head’s just all limp and resting on his shoulder. That’s about the saddest sight I can imagine.”

The young man lowered his head. “I’d forgot about that,” he said quietly. “No, I guess I wasn’t thinking clear when I decided to come to you, Mr. Potbury. I’m sorry I used up your time.”

“
Don’t think of it that way, Jimmy. I’ll be happy to be of service if you someday have a horse or family member in good condition that needs raising. You can just save your money for it till then.”

Jimmy thanked the proprietor and went on his way.

Mr. Potbury’s next client was a retired shopkeeper named Robert Stanford.

“
I’ve come about my Emily,” explained Mr. Stanford. “I’m not afraid to tell you my heart just about broke when she passed away. She nearly took me with her – and there sure are times when I wish that had been the case.”

Mr. Stanford heaved a sigh. “We’d been sweethearts since we were sixteen and eighteen years old. That was over forty years ago. I know you may not believe this, but t’weren’t a single day we spent together that we quarreled. I never once raised my voice against her,” he said, close to tears.

“
Mr. Stanford, your story is touching. You’re the first one in here for a good long while who’s motivated by pure love and a desire to sustain that love. Yesterday morning, for example, I had a client wanting me to resurrect Kitty LaRuche, who used to dance in cabaret shows on Saturday nights and work in Mrs. Broadhurst’s bordello across the street there on weekdays. Well, she certainly had her admirers, even in death. By the time I’d closed up yesterday, there’d been no less than three separate inquiries made about resurrecting her, and none of them blood relations.

“
But let’s return to your case now, Mr. Stanford.” Mr. Potbury opened up his green leather-bound order book and took up a quill pen. “May I, first of all, ask how long she’s been gone?” he enquired, beginning to dip his pen in ink.

“
Seventeen days now,” muttered the former shopkeeper, who seemed almost lost in his own abstract thoughts as he stared out the now open window. “She passed away on the twenty-ninth of last month.”

“
Mr. Stanford…”

“
We would have been married forty-two years this Saturday. She can still fit in her wedding dress.”

“
Bob… It can’t be done.”

“
We met on the night of the June dance. She looked just like an elf-child in the moonlight when I saw her sitting in a swing. She was holding a bunch of wildflowers she’d just picked. I overcame my shyness and talked and talked with her. My urge was to kiss her, but I felt I hadn’t earned the right to. What right does any man have to kiss perfection? It was another month ’fore I’d worked up the nerve.”

“
Bob, it just can’t be. It’s just not possible. Too much time has gone by to raise her.”

The client suddenly looked from the window to Mr. Potbury, as if noticing him for the first time. “I came here as soon as she died. I swear I did. But you weren’t here,” he explained with a strained voice. “I came every morning for a week without fail; then I came every second or third day. Someone said you were ill and unlikely to survive, but I’ve been coming anyways.”

“
I wish I could help you; I really do.”

Mr. Stanford stared down at the ink well on the proprietor’s desk as if it was a crystal ball reflecting events of the past.

“
I saw her grow and blossom before my eyes, year by year, day by day and minute by minute; and to me that was the greatest pleasure any man could have. Sure, she lost her first flush of youth, but I swear to you she grew more beautiful and attractive as the years passed. I never saw her more lovely than the day she died. From the floor on my knees I kissed her hand just like I did when I first proposed. Then I touched my wedding ring to hers and held her hand tight. I thanked her for all the years we’d had together. Then, finally, I whispered my promise of eternal love – and a promise to reunite with her. She heard all this and smiled. Then a minute later she died, and I covered her face with the bed quilt.”

It was a broken and shattered man who eventually made his way out the door and shambled back on foot to his empty house.

At a few minutes to ten the sheriff appeared in the doorway. He wore a gun at each side and a long charcoal-colored frock coat with a split up the back – an indication that he was no stranger to long rides in the saddle.

“
Hello, Sheriff. As a matter of fact, I was expecting you.”

“
Mornin’, Elijah. I’m glad to see you’ve recovered from your illness.”

“
Thanks, Orville. It’s good to be back in the saddle again. I missed out on a lot of business while I was recuperating.”

“
Well, a body’s health is more important than all else, as my old granny used to say.”

The sheriff waited a moment before continuing. He began to rub the back of his neck as if he suddenly felt uncomfortable under the collar.

“
Now, I guess you know why I’m here, Elijah. I’ve just come from my office, where Jake Hostler turned up to file a complaint.”