Clair Huffaker - The Cowboy and the Cossack

As Natcho and Igor poured drinks around, Dixie said, “That song on that there Russian guitar wasn’t half bad.”

Finally daring to try my voice again I said, “It’s a balalaika, stupid. And you’ll never guess how goddamned lucky you are to’ve lived long enough t’ hear that song!”

“Hell,” Dixie protested innocently. “Who coulda ever imagined that you was s’ awful girl shy?”

“I ain’t !”

“All right,” Shad said with firm easiness, and Dixie and I let it go at that, but it seemed to me I could still detect the shadow of a self-satisfied smirk on that bastard’s face.

Rostov glanced at the two of us with faint amusement and raised his glass. “There is some further good luck we can drink to. Vostrovia !”

I knew damn well that he and Shad, like me, were thinking of the last time we’d made that toast in this room, and thinking back to that good time I couldn’t just take a sip but downed the whole glass.

Neither Dixie nor Natcho had tangled with a glass of vodka before. Natcho winced a little, but Dixie was almost strangling, his eyes watering.

He blinked his eyes rapidly against the wetness in them, and I said sympathetically, “You just remember a sad story, Dixie?” He couldn’t yet reply, so apropos of my earlier blushing I added, “A little healthy red in a fella’s colorin’ sure does beat a bilious green.”

Shad said to Rostov, “What more luck?”

“Genghis Kharlagawl and his Tartars have been seen heading north toward the Stanovoi mountains. On our route, skirting the Kamchatka Territory, we should miss them by more than two hundred and fifty miles.”

“Unless they change direction.”

“That’s always possible, of course. But at least they’re not aware of us yet or they’d be out there laying in wait for us now.”

Dixie was finally getting almost back to normal, so I immediately started to pour another round, generously filling his glass first and right up to the brim, at the same time giving him a nice, friendly smile, which he seemed to somehow mistake for gloating, and to which he therefore responded with a still slightly damp glare.

Yuri was pouring at the other side of the table, and Igor was speaking to Ilya and him in a low voice, probably telling them what Shad and Rostov were saying.

“Any idea of how many Tartars with him?” Shad asked.

“Evidently fewer than usual. Between two and three hundred.” Rostov shrugged. “But whoever actually saw them probably left rather hurriedly, instead of taking the time to make an accurate count. Then too, Kharlagawl usually has a number of raiding parties ranging out from his main force, which makes any estimate of his total strength questionable.”

“Well,” I said, “however many there are, thank God they’re headin’ off north.” Giving Dixie a pleasant look, I raised my glass. “I pr’pose we all drink t’ that!”

“Why not?” Dixie managed to say in a slightly strange voice, and we all drank.

I had to give Dixie credit for seconding that or any other toast, and he did down his glass this time with a little more style, but he still couldn’t completely hide his relief when Shad told him he didn’t necessarily have to drink the whole thing every time.

Old Keats and the others, the day before, had picked up all the supplies the Slash-Diamond needed, but there were still a couple of things Rostov wanted, so a little later he and Yuri left the rest of us for a while to go get them.

And then, as Ilya started quietly strumming his balalaika, Irenia came to the table again with two more bottles of vodka and said something to Igor. This time I could talk at least, so I took the bull by the horns and said right out, “Hello, Irenia.” My timing was kind of off, saying “hello” that way, like I hadn’t happened to notice her up until now. But I figured better late than never, and anyway there was nothing much else I could say to her. She gave me the kind of a look and smile that I guess is what tends to turn bachelors into married men. Then, timidly and cautiously, she said, “Hay-loh, Lay-vee.” And with that she turned quickly and fled back through the door.

I was so overwhelmed I almost fell out of my chair. “My God ! Did ya’ hear that ? She spoke t’ me!”

“Way I got it,” Dixie said, “she was tryin’ t’ ask ya’ t’ please not get s’ goddamn drunk this time.”

“No.” Natcho shook his head and stretched his sense of humor to the breaking point. “They have just become engaged.”

“Now c’mon ! She said plain as day, ‘ Hello, Levi !’” I turned to Shad for support. “Boss?”

He nodded. “That’s the way I heard it, more ’r less.”

Working hard at holding back his laughter, Igor now said, “She asked Lieutenant Bruk how to say that yesterday.”

Still pretty much in a delightful state of shock I muttered, “Well, ain’t that nice !”

Before Dixie or Natcho could give me any more hard times, Shad now turned dead serious. “Igor? Did you or Rostov order those two bottles?”

“No. They’re from Anna and Irenia and the other people who work here at The Far East.”

Shad said quietly, “Givin’ us presents ain’t too healthy a practice around here.”

Igor understood Shad’s concern. “Believe me, it’s not the same as with those two men. No one will know. And in a small way, like those two men, they want to pay honor to Bakaskaya, and to Captain Rostov and his father.”

“Rostov’s father?” Dixie’s speech was beginning to sound slurred. “I didn’t even know he had one.”

“The captain’s father was one of the first high-ranking Kuban Cossacks in European Russia to defy the Tzar. He gave up everything, great wealth and power, and moved far east into the wilderness to try to establish a free, independent state. With a few loyal followers, he founded Bakaskaya many years ago, when his son, our captain, was still a very young man.”

“Just what the hell,” Dixie wanted to know, “has all a’ that got t’ do with these here bottles a’ vodka?”

“Since his father’s death, our captain has gone on to become even more of ”—Igor frowned, searching his mind for the right word—“of a legend. Many people have much respect for him, his name, and what they stand for.” As he looked around at us, his eyes began to grow impatient and even angry. “You just don’t know, and can’t know! The false papers that had to be drawn up to make the officials in Moscow think that the cattle were going to the good Tzar city of Irkutsk! The fact that less than three thousand of us in Bakaskaya, men, women and children, have been starving for over five years to put every kopek we could gather together into this purchase! I honestly do not know what the herd means to you, except that delivering it is a matter of pride. To us it is a matter of life and death! And the principle of what the term ‘cossacks,’ long ago and originally, stood for—‘a society of free people’!” He took a deep, long breath. “Some of the people here in Khabarovsk understand what I speak of.” He hesitated again and then said, “That is the reason for these two bottles.”

Right about then I think Igor was ready to fight all of us at once if we’d gone against him or anything he’d told us. And I, for one, was too much on his side to do anything like that.

Shad looked at the bottles thoughtfully and then finally said, “All right.”

Dixie and the vodka were getting used to each other. He started to open a bottle. “No point lettin’ it git spoilt fr’m ol’ age.”

Natcho said, “Where did the captain learn such perfect English, Igor?”