Clair Huffaker - The Cowboy and the Cossack

Those flags must have been what I hadn’t seen through the telescope earlier that day when Rostov had handed it to me. The highest and biggest flag had a bear on it. The two smaller ones beneath it were triangle-shaped, with different colors.

My immediate thought was that the top one stood for the Tzar and the others stood for the two companies of Imperial Cossacks, and it seemed to me that it was unfair for Rostov to have expected me to know all that. But there wasn’t much time for me to pursue that possible injustice any further because we now rode out onto the hard-packed dirt square. And for damn sure somebody had just gotten the word that some strangers were in town. As we moved straight ahead toward that building at an easy walk, Imperial Cossacks started showing up all around the square, some of them pulling on their jackets and others buckling on sabers or quietly checking their guns. As still others appeared, all of them just staying their distance and gradually surrounding us, it began to be one hell of a hairy situation .

“Boy,” Slim muttered in a low voice, “right now a lot a’ fellas could get hurt real serious an’ sudden around here.”

We got to where the two guards were standing in front of the building, their rifles now held in readiness at angles across their chests. We dismounted and tied our horses at about the same time that the door behind the guards opened and a young officer came quickly out. After a brief, stunned glance at us, he stepped toward Rostov to speak. But before he could manage to say anything, it was Rostov, instead, who gave a short, sharp order. I understood enough to know that Rostov had demanded to see the commanding officer.

And then a man spoke in reply to Rostov from the open main door. About forty, lean and tall, there was a cruel and somehow aristocratic arrogance about him, despite the fact that he was standing there casually in his shirt sleeves.

He and Rostov exchanged a few words, and then Rostov turned to us. “This is Colonel Verushki. He agrees to listen to what we have to say.”

“He damned well better agree,” Shad said to Rostov, “unless he wants his goddamn town torn down.”

Verushki gave Shad a quick, sharp glance, and right then I knew he could understand us. A second later it dawned on me that Shad now knew too, and that that was probably why he’d said what he said in the first place.

With the Tzar’s men on all sides and behind us, we went into the building and followed Colonel Verushki down a wide hallway. He even had men with ready rifles lined up on both sides of the hallway. I’d never seen so many soldiers holding so many guns in my life. “Jesus,” I murmured to Old Keats, “this looks more like a thousand men than a hundred.”

Keats said quietly, “He’s rousted out every man in his command.”

“Yeah. Like I said. All thousand of ’em.”

Farther down the hall we entered what looked like a big council room of some sort. Verushki sat facing us from a large desk up front, with nine or ten armed men lined up behind him. There were some benches where our men either sat or stood, as they felt. Then at least half of the Tzar’s thousand soldiers outside crowded into the rest of the room. And after about two minutes, I wasn’t sure whether their guns or their sweating was their most dangerous weapon.

Verushki said something to his men in Russian, and then he glanced at Shad and me. “You both recently became aware that I speak English, so there’s no need for linguistic games.”

Without seeming to, he’d noticed both of our reactions outside.

And now, almost as a compliment, Shad said quietly, “I’m pleased for all of us t’ see that you’re a smart sonofabitch.”

Verushki said two words in Russian and every rifle in the room was suddenly cocked, with deadly, dry metallic sounds.

Rostov said quickly, “The word ‘sonofabitch’ is colloquial, Colonel, and has nothing to do with one’s ancestry.”

“I’m aware of both that and the impertinence intended.” Verushki looked at Rostov and at the uniform he was wearing. “I agreed to listen to you. But I presume you understand that, as of now, you and your outlaw cossacks are under arrest.”

Rostov said, “And the firing squad is already waiting, undoubtedly.”

There was a tight, deadly moment, and then Shad stood up and began one of the great speeches ever made. “That kind a’ trouble is sort of what we’re here t’ talk about.” He walked over to the closest Imperial Cossack and put the tip of his finger lightly on the muzzle of the rifle being held by that suddenly astonished man. Then, with his finger still on the muzzle, he gently pushed the barrel slightly to one side. It was such an audacious move that the only reaction in the room was one of stunned silence. “You know, Colonel,” Shad said easily, “if he shoots right now, it’ll blow off about half of my finger—and I’ll kill this poor Imperial Cossack bastard dead before he even knows he’s made an unfortunate mistake.”

Verushki snapped an order in Russian, and the still astonished man slowly released the hammer on his rifle, uncocking it. Then, as Shad turned toward him, Verushki said, “Was there some sort of point to that idiotic flamboyancy?”

That was a six-bit word to use, but Shad came back with a pretty good one too. “It’s got t’ do with economics.” He let that word sink in, and then continued. “That finger a’ mine ain’t worth a whole lot because I’ve got nine more t’ go. But like I said, I’d have killed your man. And that would have led t’ all kinds of hell in this here immediate vicinity.”

Verushki was frowning, but he forced the frown into a small, thin smile. “Are you trying to tell me that we should be afraid of you ?”

Shad’s voice took on a low, hard edge. “I’m not tryin’ t’ tell you. I’m tellin’ you. First off, Colonel, we’re all armed, and damned well armed, and we’ll stay armed because no man in his right mind will be about t’ try t’ disarm us. Now second, consider my little finger against your life, Colonel. Much as I’m fond of that little finger, I seriously doubt you would agree that one’s worth the other. And if a fight starts here and now, I guarantee that you will not be one of the few people who gets out of this room alive.”

“And you and your men?” Verushki’s eyes were hard and thoughtful.

Shad shrugged a little. “We’d all wind up dead, and I’d be one a’ the first t’ go. But then, Colonel, after all the bloody carnage that’d take place in this room, another bad thing would happen t’night. With you an’ about half a’ your men dead or wounded, fifty of the toughest, meanest, best-armed men in the world would come into town, curious t’ find out what the hell happened to us.” He paused briefly. “I guess, while you’re at it, you could measure that little finger of mine against all of Khabarovsk.”

Verushki studied Shad thoughtfully, his hands folded together before him on the desk. “If you’re bluffing, it’s quite impressive.”

“Just try me, Colonel.”

“I presume there is some alternative to these disastrous events, and I further presume that alternative is the reason you’re here.”

“That’s exactly what I’ve been talkin’ about. Economics. It’d be downright silly an’ unfeasible for you t’ be dead and dishonored and Khabarovsk burned down, all for one damned little finger.”

“In my opinion,” Verushki said slowly, “you must be very heavily outnumbered.”

Rostov stood up then, and as he did so, several rifles were now turned toward him. He glanced at them disdainfully, as though they were wooden toys held by children. “Even in this room we are outnumbered, Colonel. But I suggest you also consider wisely the economics of the human spirit. Sometimes, because of that spirit, one man can be worth many in a battle.”