David Ohle - The Pisstown Chaos

As the blacksmith burned the RH brand into the stillgreen wood of the wagon's stern, sweet-smelling wisps of smoke drifted into the shop. "The Reverend's people will be down here in a few days to pick it up and sail it across the prairie."

Dewey was growing impatient. "I've got a loose wheel and a cracked spoke. And I've got a brick of tooth gold I want you to melt down and divvy up three ways. So hurry up."

"Soon's I finish here, I'll fix that wheel for you. It's about to fall off. You won't get a mile out of her. Can't melt your gold, though."

"And why is that? You got all the tools, you got a hot-as-hell fire. What else do you need?"

"You been out on that Island too long, friend. Hooker's declared that tooth gold possession is illegal. You get caught with it, you're going to be living on Permanganate the rest of your life. I'd go dig a hole and bury it if I was you. Maybe come back in a few years. On the other hand, if you want to be sure you don't get caught, leave it with me and I'll see about putting it under some dirt for digging up later."

"That is a heavy blow to the enterprise," Harp said.

"He's lying," Dewey said, snatching the blacksmith's hammer and handing it to Harp. "Here, hit him on the head with it, hard, when I tell you. You know what they say? They say `He who lives by the hammer will die by the anvil."' He raised the Sharps and pointed it at the blacksmith's chest. "This man here, by the name of Harp, he's going to brain you. So get ready and make your peace."

"Why do you think he's lying?" Mildred asked. "Shouldn't we give him the benefit of the doubt?"

"Look at that ugly face. It's got liar written all over it. Talks out the side of his mouth, all the time blinking, nervous as pudding. He takes us for a pack of cretins. You think he would have buried that gold once we got on down the road? Don't be an idiot."

"Hold your horses," the blacksmith said. "Just to show I'm not lying, look here." He took them a ways down the alley, where a broadside was tacked to a barn door. "See there."

The broadside depicted a brick of tooth gold embossed with a skull and crossbones. The warning was:

DON'T GET CAUGHT WITH ONE OF THESE.

"It seems very clear to me," Mildred said.

"He could change his mind in a week," Harp said. "The price could triple when the law is rescinded, once he corners the market."

"True enough," the blacksmith said, "so if you want to take your chances, go on off with that brick and see what happens. And give my regards to Permanganate Island."

As they walked back to the blacksmith's shop, Dewey said to everyone, "Think about it this way. We keep the brick for a while and then we bury it out there on the prairie somewhere. When the law's been repealed, why we'll come on back and get it. This smithy's not entitled to even an ounce.

When they arrived at the shop, Dewey outlined a plan. "All right, we're gonna do the smart thing. We're taking the gold and we're taking that wind wagon, too." With the rifle barrel, he struck the blacksmith a sharp blow to his shoulder. The snap of bone was audible and the blacksmith fell backward, his head hitting the horn of the anvil, his numb hand dragging through the forge and flinging hot coals onto the hay-strewn mud floor. A fire began quickly, spreading outward in a perfect circle, setting the blacksmith's apron on fire.

"Everybody, on the Reverend's wagon!" Dewey shouted. "Let's get the hell on out of here."

"Look, that man is on fire," Charity said. "His face is bubbling."

Harp took a step toward the blacksmith. "Shouldn't we drag him out? He'll burn to death."

"Us, too, you moron," Dewey said.

Mildred and Harp nevertheless made an attempt to save the smithy. She took one of his feet, Harp the other, and they pulled until the boots came off, but managed to move him only a few feet before the fire drove them back.

Dewey looked up and down the street, then at his tired mules and broken spoke. He held his bandana in the air. "Luck's with us, folks. The wind's good and strong off the prairie. Everybody, let's push this wagon out and raise them sails."

Getting the wagon into the street and the sails raised took some doing. With only three adults and a weak stinker girl, it was a back-breaking push. But when the sails caught the wind, the wagon rolled along at a fair clip, leaving the blacksmith and his shop in flames.

After two full days of a steady wind from the east, the wagon had made good progress. When it came to the ford at Bloody Creek, Dewey applied the brake and brought it to a slow stop, the front wheels axle-deep in water.

"Here we are, folks," Dewey said. "Once we cross the Bloody, we're in the prairie. If there's one, there's ten million imps that live there. We'll be running over them as we go. Figure we'll bury the brick out there somewhere, maybe in an imp hole. No mule driver'll ever take his animals where there's that many holes. They'd go lame in no time. A wind wagon's got that advantage, no mules attached."

The Guard and his deputy had stood by and watched the blacksmith's and the adjacent livery burn to the ground.

"Sure did go up fast," Ratoncito said.

"Dry wood, I guess," Peppard said, using a long, branched stick to roll the smoldering blacksmith out of the ashes. "His body's all asizzle. You hear it, Ratoncito?"

"I hear it."

"Smells like bacon, don't it? You ever had bacon?"

"Never did. Couldn't get it. Big shortages all the time."

"When the Reverend gets his re-meating imps to market, there'll be all we can eat all the time."

"Looking forward, Major. Looking forward to that day."

"Well, all right. There's Dewey's wagon and his mules. Now where's Dewey and his passengers?"

"What do you suppose happened to that wind wagon, Major? You think it burned up?"

"Most likely Dewey and company took it and went. They knocked that poor smithy out, set the place on fire and sailed off in the Reverend's own wagon."

"I 'spect we better go on after them, whenever the wind quits. Go get the artist and the mortician. We've got to put a notice in the paper and get the smithy and the stinker buried before we run out of sunlight."

When the wind died that evening, Peppard and Ratoncito were able to follow the wagon's tracks to the edge of Bloody Creek on a fast Q-ped. Within sight was an abandoned farmstead that consisted of a small sod house, a falling-down barn, a well, a privy and an old windmill. There were the dead remains of a persimmon orchard, a fallow garden and a dusty scarecrow.

The two Guards dismounted the Q-ped and crept toward the house. In the stillness of the morning they could hear snoring inside.

"They're sleeping," Peppard whispered.

"I'm not," Charity said. She was sitting on a wooden bench outside the front door, hidden in the shadows. "I get nightmares." She was holding the brick of tooth gold in her lap, stroking it.

"Quiet down, you," Peppard whispered. "We're fixing to make some arrests here and it'll be a damned sight easier if the perpetrators are asleep."

"What the hell's that she's got?"

"Lord God if it ain't a brick o' tooth gold."

"Where'd you get that?"

"Isn't it pretty?"

Ratoncito pointed his firearm at her and wiggled it. "Shoo! Go on! Git lost! Put down that gold and go."

"I'm with Mrs. Balls. She's taking care of me."

"Honey pie. You're on your own now. Follow them wagon tracks back to town. Go to the Templex. They'll take care of you. Walk due east, where the sun comes up."

Charity looked directly into the sun without squinting. "That way?"

"Yep "

"All right, then." She walked past the well, past the barn, and collapsed in the orchard.

"She went down, Major."

"It's no business of ours. The imps'11 take care of her. We've got arrests to make. Possession of tooth gold, destruction of property, stealing the Reverend's wagon and who knows what all else."