Ralph Compton - Do or Die

Eli Brandenberg was plucking a chicken out by the henhouse when four riders appeared to the southwest. His dog barked to warn him. Placing it in the storeroom, he took his rifle and a telescope and went back out. He looked through the telescope and saw a big buffalo hunter doing the same. The other man lowered his and grinned. “I’ll be damned,” Eli said.

Eli had a jug on the counter waiting when Enos Howard barreled into the soddy like he owned it and clapped Eli on the shoulder near hard enough to knock him down.

“Eli, you scoundrel! It does this coon good to see your ugly self again.” Enos introduced his companions and told them to take a seat. “How about grub all around? And a pot of that coffee of yours that can float a horseshoe.” Eno’s eyes narrowed and he lightly touched the muzzle of his Sharps to one of Eli’s many bruises. “What the hell happened to you? Did an ornery horse try to stomp you to death?”

“I’d rather not talk about it.”

“It’s your face,” Enos said with a shrug. He uncorked the jug, crooked his arm, and gulped. “Lawsy! You still make some of the best corn liquor this side of Beulah land.”

“I try,” Eli said, somewhat appeased. “Where have you been keepin’ yourself? It’s been a year, almost a year and a half, since I saw you last.” He gave the three young ones at the table a once-over. “And since when do you take up with tadpoles? Have you given up the buffs to tend babies?”

“Be nice. They’re green, but they have gumption. We’ve partnered up on a special hunt.”

“I haven’t seen any buffalo in a month of Sundays. Time was, I’d see four or five big herds a year, but you buffalo hunters are killin’ ’em off faster than the cows can drop calves.”

“It’s buffalo runners, Eli. You should know that. And my buff days are over. I’ve got me a whole new line of work.”

“But you just said you were on a hunt.”

“Not the kind of hunt you think.”

Charley Pickett called out, “These tadpoles would like to have some food and drink, if you don’t mind. The lady here is hungry.”

Enos grinned at Eli. “You have to excuse the pup. He’s in love.” He ambled to their table, swung a chair around, and straddled it. “Overheard us, did you?”

“Every word,” Charley said. “It’s hard not to when you’re always bellowing like a bull.”

“Folks have been sayin’ I talk too loud since I was knee-high to a prairie dog. But I’m not one of those who talks as quiet as they live.”

Melissa had taken a brush from her bag and was running it through her hair. “I’m not sure I follow you.”

“Life was meant to be lived, Missy. Not like a mouse in a cage. But like a griz, the lord of all creation. Bears are hardly ever quiet. They’re always gruntin’ and snortin’ and growlin’ and rumblin’ and livin’ life the fullest they know how. They don’t do anything in half-measures. It’s full to the brim for them, and that’s exactly how I like to live. Full to the brim.”

Tony removed his cap. “The strange thing is, I understand what you are saying. Even stranger, I agree.”

“You? You could have fooled me. Until a few days ago, you were as quiet as a lump of coal and just about as lively.”

“I have had a lot on my mind. More than you can possibly suspect.”

“That’s the trouble with younguns nowadays. You think too damn much. It bogs your brain down in thoughts when you should be usin’ it to live.”

Tony said, “No one would ever accuse you of bogging down your brain.”

“Exactly. I leave the piddlin’ stuff for those who like to fret. Me, I take each day as it comes. I grab it by the horns and wrestle it to the ground, and then I put my foot on its neck and whoop like a Crow.”

“I haven’t noticed you doing much whoopin’ except when you’re drunk,” Charley commented.

“Hell, boy, you’ve yet to see me when I really hit the liquor. All I’ve been doin’ is what you might call sociable drinkin’.”

“In that case,” Tony was grinning, “you are surely the most sociable person I have ever met.”

Enos laughed and declared, “Will wonders never cease! You do have a sense of humor! Keep this up, and pretty soon you might even learn how to have some fun.”

Eli arrived. He had put his grimy apron on and was carrying a scuffed wooden tray with four glasses and a pitcher of water. “What would you folks like?” He rattled off the list of the foods and drinks he had available.

“Oh, I would die for some eggs!” Melissa declared. “I saw your chickens when we rode up, and I was hoping you would have some. With a little of that pork sausage you mentioned.”

“I’ll have to double-check the sausage to be sure,” Eli told her. “It’s been hangin’ in the cellar a spell. It was salted proper, but sometimes the meat turns. I’ll nibble a piece to see if it’s spoiled.”

“Thank you. That’s most considerate.”

Eli nervously shifted his weight from one foot to the other. Women always made him uncomfortable. The way they moved, the way they thought things out, they were so different in everything they did. It was spooky. He never knew what to say around them or quite what to do. Once he had tried courting a girl, but it hadn’t worked out. They would sit for hours without saying a word. Just sit there on her father’s porch, staring off into space. Finally he stopped going over to visit and hadn’t felt the need for female companionship since.

“I’d like a slab of venison,” Charley began. “Three or four baked potatoes, a mountain of pork and beans, half a loaf of bread with butter, and a pot of coffee to wash it down.”

“Is that all?”

“Eggs sounds nice to me too,” Tony said. “With the yolks intact, if you please. And toast and jam.”

“Just bring me a jug,” Enos directed.

Melissa stopped brushing her hair and wagged the brush at him. “You should eat too. Treat yourself. Who knows how long it will be before we find the Hoodoos.”

Eli, in the act of turning, stopped. “What do you have to do with those miserable snakes, girl?”

Enos grinned. “That’s who we’re after. You’re lookin’ at four genuine manhunters. We’ve been scourin’ all over creation for those buzzards and were hopin’ maybe you had word of which territory they’ve been seen in lately.”

Eli stared at each of them and made a sound reminiscent of one of his chickens being strangled. “Are you addlepated? Why, Big Ben Brody alone could take the four of you with one hand and both legs hogtied, and he’s the least dangerous of the whole bunch.”

“You let us worry about that,” Charley said.

Shaking his head at the buffalo hunter, Eli commented, “I’d expect such foolishness from these three. They’re so wet behind the ears, they’re drip-pin’ sap. But you should know better, Enos. You’ve been bloodied, and you’ve blooded more than your share. You’ll only get these tadpoles killed.”

“This was their brainstorm, not mine. When they first told me, I laughed till my sides were fit to split. And I still think they’re loco. But I gave ’em my word, and I’m with ’em until the end.”

“It’s the bounty, isn’t it? All that money has you droolin’? Of all the simpleminded silliness, this takes the cake.”

Charley’s jaw twitched. “When we want your opinion, mister, we’ll ask for it. And don’t insult the lady again, or you’ll answer to me.”

Enos gestured. “Now, now. Let’s not snip. I’m sure Eli didn’t mean anything personal. He’s only being considerate. Right, Eli?”

Eli was thinking. He still ached from the beating he had taken, and two of his front teeth were so loose they might fall out any day now. He had never hated anyone as much as he hated the Hoodoos. Hate so potent that sometimes, when he thought about what they had done, his head swam and his temples pounded, and he couldn’t hardly see for the red haze in front of his eyes. He spent hours day-dreaming about paying them back. About staking them out over ant hills or sneaking up in the dead of night and slitting their throats. He wanted them dead, stone dead, Brock Alvord most of all. Brock was the one he had always liked and respected. And look at what the man had done.