The Ellsworth Tragedy, Part 2
by Mike Wilkerson

I spent more and more time with Hester over those months from Spring and well into Summer. By then I'd been riding the stage to the point of fatigue on account we were losing good men to the bandits and highwaymen who were murdering and stealing ever'thing in their path. Those stage runs on the Smokey Hill Trail were filled with dead folks both white and injun. The lifeless faces staring out like they ain't real, and then you realize they are real but can't do nothing for 'em. I've seen scalped men and burned up injun children along that trail and white or red a twisted face locked in pain forevermore ain't nothing anybody ought to see. And friend, it wore on this ol' boy. But it was my job to keep folks safe, and so I kept myself heavily armed and willfully ignorant. Ignorance is a first-rate quality in my trade.

Business for Boss Purdy was so good that by mid-summer he'd moved into a wood frame building and brought in a few other gals to take care of hungry customers. But Hester was still busy as all get out on account of how she looked and because fellers had simply become accustomed to her. Yet, she'd manage to sneak out when she knew I was around and I even bought her some store bought goods a time or two. In turn, Hester brought her smile for me on a few rare occasions and seeing her happy made this ol' boy feel like he'd done something right in this here world and I'd forget those dead faces, if only for as long as she held me.

There were problems, though. Galliban was still around and he'd gotten to taking Hester's services on a steady and, some folks said, rapturous basis. She said laying with him was the only time she felt really dirty 'bout what she did. Most fellers who visited her were only boys or older fellers who wanted a gal to mother 'em. Galliban was a scoundrel, she said. Tried to get her to do things she didn't like and which made her feel shameful. I told her I'd take care of him, be glad to do so. But she said no.

Maybe that was her way of sayin': "If you want me, Charlie, then take me. If not, then I got to fend for myself."

I don't know, but maybe.

We'd come off a long, rough and dirty stage run to Denver City and back and I'd had Hester on my mind the entire time I was gone. You get to thinking on those long trips. Life was creeping up on me and I'd of liked to come home and lay with my woman without constraints and without thoughts of other fellers touching her. That's what I thought about. Me and her. She'd of looked good standing out on the windblown prairie in front of our own place with her black hair blustering around like a tumbleweed and the sun in her eyes and the new summer cheatgrass waving around her legs like it was happy, same as me, just to be around her.

I guess I was tired inside my head to be having ideas like that. I was so dern tired and I'm a'guessing so was she, even though she never said as much.

With such thoughts fresh in my head and the money bag slung over my shoulder, I went to the bank, right off, just as I always did. Tom Deckert was clerking at the bank, just as he always was.

"Charlie," Tom said with a nod, but without looking at me.

Tom was a young, spry beanpole of a feller with a bushy brown mustache who was always friendly with a smile, even though you couldn't see it below that there broom on his lip. Today he looked beat and I told him as much.

"You looking like somebody left you, Tom. You ain't married yet so it can't be that, unless you been holding out on me. Why so glum?"

He shook his head. "Charlie . . . " he started, but didn't finish.

I figured he had a case of melancholy. Things can get lonesome out here when you got no one.

Only I couldn't spare the time for Charlie's gloomy disposition and so I said, "Well, good luck," and put one foot in front t'other till I was standing bar-side at Boss's place. I wanted a drink and then I wanted Hester. Not for layin', but for all time.

Galliban was there too, leaning with his back against the wooden plank bar and staring out into the crowd of cowboys like he owned the place. He was wearing a dark, sweat stained and floppy top hat and his hair hung below it like black moss. It was the first time I'd seen him with cover on his head. His checkered shirt was open to the waist revealing a sunken, hairless chest and his trousers were baggy and brown stained in the wrong places. I could smell the smell Hester always talked about and I didn't like it neither.

I sidled up next to him and slapped the bar. "Whiskey. None of that falsified business either — get it out of a new bottle."

Galliban moved a jaundice eye to the corner of its socket and gave me a superior look. I paid him no mind. That ain't true. Lord, I felt an energy inside pert near ready to burst me into pieces and I wanted him to say somethin'. Anything. Then I'd buffalo him but good for Hester's sake. After that, me and Hester were gonna ride outta this burg. I didn't even know if she'd say yes to what I was gonna ask her, but it felt good thinking she would.

Jerry Markley was tending bar and he knew better'n to pass off bad liquor to this ol' boy. He was short and round with dark, slicked back hair which made him look like a little black beetle. Moved like one too. Took him some time to find a bottle of good whiskey. He served me up with a shaky hand and I took a sip and then turning around bumped shoulders with Galliban, spilling my whiskey.

"I'll be getting another'n on you," I said to Galliban with my eyes nailed to his, thinking of how Hester felt about him.

He turned full at me, thumbs hooked in his gun belt right close to those Colt's.

"Fer what? It be yer fault, ya damn fool. You tramps are all as clumsy as the day is long and too stupid to realize it. 'Sides, what you doing here anyhow, Charlie? Your whore ain't around no more for you to be traipsing off with."

I felt my face jerk. Galliban saw it and said: "What? You don't think ever'body in these parts knows how you two be sneaking off and playing patty cake? Why don't you foller her lead and do the same so I don't have to make a scene in front of these good paying customers."

His stink got stronger. I cocked my head to him. "How's that 'bout Hester?"

Galliban spit chewing t'bacca on the floor and a thin stream of juice dribbled down his chin like brown blood leaking from his mouth.

"Done herself in. It happens with whores from time to time due to their lowly predicament." He shrugged and added, "Seen it on many occasion with gals in her vocation. It's what you call an occupational hazard."

I felt something like a tickle start about the middle of my back and then creep up my neck and into my scalp until my whole head felt like it was crawling with red fire ants. Galliban just stood there with an ugly smirk on his ugly face.

"She wouldn't do it," I replied. Only a knot was growing in my chest which made me wonder if I believed my own words; she was prone to low moods and I knew it.

"Wouldn't she?" He leaned back against the bar smug-like and then spread his lips, showing his yellow, bean-like teeth flecked with t'bacca.

I turned to the bar. "Jerry?"

Jerry backed away, blinking his eyes fast and said: "Charlie . . . she-she-she did so. She'd been on a crying jag ever since . . . "

Jerry was talking slow. I sped him up.

"Since what?"

"Since I took this place over from Boss and he made himself gone," Galliban said.

I turned back to him. Galliban lifted his chin and talked to the ceiling.

"Guess she didn't like her new business arrangement and must've got weary of her boyfriend putting her off and always running here and there. She thought you done left for good this time, Charlie ol' boy. Gone for almost a month you were." He looked down at me and shrugged again. "What can you do?" And then he answered his own question. "Nothin', that's what."

I kept my voice calm. "She knows we been short handed what with the bloodshed going on and the fellers we been losing on account of it. She knew I'd be back. She knew it, 'cause I told her so and I ain't never lied to her."

Galliban shook his head. "Well, Charlie, maybe she thought you'd bought it out there on the trail, got yourself scalped or such. Somebody might even of said as much to her as a tease. You know how these rascals are with their tales." He winked and added, "That's prob'ly it."

I turned to Jerry and laughed a fool's laugh, wanting to believe I was in the middle of a put-on. When Jerry's face drooped like wax from a spent candle I stopped laughin'. I knew what happened. I also knew why and because of who.

I pulled my own Colt and put it in Galliban's chest. For a moment, that ol' boy was scared as hell 'cause he ain't the first man I've made scared and he knew us stage boys had seen death up close, done by a people who live by counting coup against those who done 'em wrong for years on end, and if I was still alive after all these years it meant I weren't afraid of putting a man down.

But he was only scared for a moment, 'cause he didn't last any longer. I pulled the trigger and son, when a .44 lets loose that close to a body there ain't nothing or nobody gonna come out of it breathing air.

* * *

I woke up in what constituted the jailhouse with a knot the size of a goose egg on the back of my noggin' and sheriff Kingsbury standing over me. I asked him what the score was.

"Somebody put the grip of a pistol to ya as soon as you finished off Galliban," he said.

"Who done it?" I asked.

"Won't make a difference, Charlie. Not a goddamn bit."

He was right. I let it be.

Still in a haze, I asked Kingsbury about Hester. He said she'd taken her own life, sure enough. Scuttlebutt had Galliban beating her pretty good and making her do things like those ol' French boys do, but they had no proof of his actions 'cause she stayed or was kept locked up in her room and even quit taking customers. Nobody inquired 'bout her. Nobody cares much about the whereabouts or disposition of a whore. Kingsbury said she'd put a derringer to her head and done herself in not three days before I came back to town.

I looked at my blood spattered hands as I told him it was likely the same gun I'd bought to keep her safe from the riffraff. At the same time that smart feller I told you about earlier was in the cell next to mine sobering up. He heard our talk and called it an ironic situation. Kingsbury nodded.

He said when they found Hester she was in real bad shape beyond the obvious. A piece of her ear was missin', her eyes were swollen shut and her jaw broken. There was also a ragged, festering notch in her right nostril. Kingsbury said injuns do that to their squaws when they've laid with too many bucks and I told him I knew all about that sort of thing. There were other things done to her only I won't speak of 'em.

Kingsbury looked grave as he told me all of this. Said when he saw her, he knew what was done by the gun and what was done by the bare hands of that mudsill Galliban.

As far as Galliban goes, Kingsbury said I scattered his chest all over the bar and ever' piece of anything which happened to be situated behind him. Hell of a mess. But they slopped some water over it and in a day or two some other chub would be doing business there.

"Life moves on, Charlie. I don't blame you for what you done, but it's a new day in the territory. Folks want schools and their families to feel safe. They'll want justice of whatever kind they can get for what you done and there ain't much I can do 'bout it. But I don't blame you and I just want you to know it."

I told him it weren't his fault for the fix I was in.

Come my day in court, the judge said I was to be made an example, because I didn't even give the other feller an honest chance to defend himself. Citizens needed to see that the township of Ellsworth wasn't having no more killin', he said. They were ready to shed a bad reputation and the shedding would start with me.

My mouthpiece did what he could. He got plenty of folks up there telling the jury that I was a pretty good ol' boy and about all the lives of stage riders I'd saved over the years. Didn't make much of a difference. I knew where I was headed and I didn't care.

It was a small price for killing Hester.

And that's what I did. I killed her. I killed her by selfishness and fear. I could shoot a man dead without nary a thought of consequence, but couldn't tell a woman how I felt about her, or take her away from a life no lady ought to live. I even thanked the judge and I swear he couldn't look me in the eye.

Guess he didn't like that bastard Galliban either.

I's just about done scribbling when Kingsbury came in a bit ago and exchanged a few pleasantries with me and said I got about an hour 'fore I get to meet my maker. I almost feel sorry for the ol' boy, having to tell folks things like that.

He also said they found Boss Purdy's bloated body on a bank of the Smoky river a mile or so up with a gunshot wound to the back of his head, most likely the doings of Galliban. Purdy was already fat and I couldn't imagine how he looked all filled up with water and such. I asked Kingsbury 'bout it.

"Had to drag him to his grave with a mule. Lord, Charlie, it was a hell of a sight," he said, just before walking out the door.

"I 'magine it was," I replied.

I been writing this here piece for near two weeks and I ain't never put so many words on paper. Didn't think I had it in me, though I will fess up to having a little help from that smart dude, Gray. He's been in here a lot for one thing or t'other and he's helped me with what he calls my prose and to spell a word or two as I ain't had much book learnin'. But he always starts bawling while he reads it and muttering that it's a tragedy in the classic Shakespearian sense and he won't change nary a thing on account of the honesty of it all. Then he starts sputtering out the name "Melissa". I 'spect he has his own problems that go way back. I try not to bother him no more.

So most of my time in here has been spent just writing and thinking and staring at my bum hand. Thinking 'bout how she held it that day and how I felt something inside me even though I couldn't feel her touch on my fingers. Then about four days ago I had the sawbones come in and take off those fingers. They weren't doing me no good and hadn't for years. They were just a reminder, but no longer of John Brown and a sweet girl with a ribbon in her hair. Not anymore. Course the doc protested in a fit. Any reasonable feller would and doc's as reasonable as they come.

"But, why? Hell, Charlie, you waited all this time and now you're getting ready to . . . well, it just don't make no sense!"

"I know," I said. "But they're my fingers and I don't need 'em no more. Don't want 'em no more."

He was getting ready to say some more when I had Kingsbury give him twenty dollars in gold he was holding for me.

"It's the last thing he requested," Kingsbury said. "I ain't one to cheat a condemned man of his final requisition."

And it hurt. I was drunk as ten million injuns and full up with laudanum and I could still feel that saw going back and forth until my digits were gone. Even after doc tied off the bloody stubs and fed me more medicine it hurt.

My days wander by in a medicinal haze.

Gray said that while doc was cutting I cried out Hester's name so loud that it spooked cattle a mile out of town and even with his hands clamped to his ears he could still hear me plain as day. Said I begged for her forgiveness. Don't know 'bout that. People tend to exaggerate out here in these parts.

I asked Kingsbury 'bout it and he said I was paying a penance and what I said was nobody's business but my own and it weren't worth repeatin', 'cept maybe to the man upstairs if I get that far. Anyhow, my stubs don't hurt so much anymore.

Guess I'm hoping that in writing this, in knowing myself that I was wrong in how I treated Hester, things might be better for me maybe up there in the hereafter. If there is one. I hope there is. I pray Hester is there and she'll say it weren't my fault, what she did to herself, and that I'm a good man and I'll believe her. And before she gets to saying something nice about me, like she always did, I'll interrupt her and tell her the things I like about her.

I'll tell her how the lines in her face let me know she ain't a child no more even as her sweet sounding voice says different, but I like 'em both just the same and they're what make her who she is, which is the only person I want her to be. I'll trace those etches in her skin up around her eyes with the good finger on my bad hand and feel how deep they are and she'll close her eyes and tell me ain't nobody ever done that before, but she likes when I do it. Then I'll run my finger across her forehead, down her cheek and over the freckles on her nose until she scrunches it up and looks so purty I'll be fit to bust. When I tell how I was gonna ask her to go away with me, she'll hush me and say she's happier with things this way, 'cause it's done and finished and neither of us have to worry no more 'bout anything ever again.

And once more I'll see her smile lift below those blue eyes and move my good hand to touch her sun stricken and wild black hair while she puts her head on my shoulder. The wind will blow the cheatgrass and everything will smell new and feel right again.

And I'll get my Hester back.

The End

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