Hell for Leather

He wanted to believe the Englishman. He wanted so badly to go home, back to Tennessee where the hills were green and the land was rich and dark. That was only possible if he were exonerated. Out west, a man could evade detection with little effort. Truth be told, law didn’t seem to matter much. Zeke didn’t know how he felt about that. True, that environment had offered him protection, but it came at a price. He longed for a simple life. A wife. A farm. Children. That was hardly possible here, and quite impossible as a wanted man back east. There, they put a high premium on law and order and criminals couldn’t hide in such a place, not for long anyway. At once, Zeke had a terrible thought. If he went back and was caught, he might wind up in front of a Nashville judge and come into some kind of contact that law clerk that Rachel had married. That would be a fate worse than death and he decided he’d rather just swing from a rope and be done with it. He was busy picturing that grim scenario when Helen began asking him questions. He didn’t feel much like talking but at least she could distract him from his macabre reveries.

“How do you know where we’re going?” she asked, her delicate voice floating like a lavender ribbon on the air.

“I’m following the tracks.” Helen looked down.

“I don’t see anything.”

“You have to know what to look for.”

“Where did you learn to do it?”

“In the Army. Well, my dad taught me when I was a boy, but I really only ever used it during the war.”

“You were in a war?” this topic seemed to excite Helen, “Which war?”

“Which war?” Zeke was incredulous.

“Oh,” stammered Helen, “Which, um, which group?”

“You mean which side was I on?”

“Yes. That’s what I meant.”

“Which side do you think?”

“Ah,” answered Helen, pretending to know. Zeke looked her over.

“You lived a pretty sheltered life up there in Boston, didn’t you?”

“Well I’ve never been in a war, if that’s what you mean.” Zeke examined her hands as they rested on the pommel.

“What did you do for work in Boston?” Helen hesitated.

“Why do you ask?”

“You’ve asked a lot of questions about me. Only fair you should answer some.” Helen mulled this over for a moment, but didn’t answer, eventually prompting Zeke to pry her further with an impatient “Well? Cat got your tongue?”

“If you must know, I was a lady’s maid.”

“You Boston girls sure do talk funny.”

“You keep saying that.”

“You keep talking funny.” Helen didn’t seem to have a response to that. “So what’s a lady’s maid?” Zeke continued, “You clean the house and do the washing? That it?”

“Hardly.” Helen seemed to take umbrage at Zeke’s sparse description of her many duties.

“So what then?”

“I look after the lady of the house. Set out her clothes. Look after the goings on.”

“Couldn’t your lady do that on her own?” The question caught Helen somewhat off guard.

“How do you mean?”

“I mean what would she need that for? Can’t she take care of her own self?”

“I’m sure she is quite capable of looking after her own affairs. It’s just easier with help.” Zeke said nothing causing Helen to become somewhat defensive. “She’s not an invalid.”

“I’ll bet.” replied Zeke dismissively.

“She’s not.” was Helen’s only retort. She was eager to change the subject. “So who is this girl you’re after?”

“I told you. She was on the train.”

“Yes. I know that, but who is she? Your wife?”

“I ain’t married.”

“Then why are you so keen to find her?”

“It’s a long story.”

“What else do we have to do?” Zeke was not at all interested in having this discussion, but he couldn’t think of anything else to do but ride in silence. Helen would most likely not let that happen. He sighed.

“I got into some trouble a few years back.”

“What sort of trouble?”

“You ask a lot of questions. It’s like talking to a child. How old are you exactly?” Helen straightened her spine.

“I’m nineteen and a half,” she announced, “and I considered curiosity to be an admirable quality.”

“Oh Yeah?” replied Zeke, “Well I consider silence to be a virtue.” He was rather pleased with himself for that one, but Helen would have none of it.

“Clever,” she admitted, “but I’m not going to stop asking questions. Now about this trouble.” Zeke could see there would be no silencing this girl.

“A robbery.”

“Really?” Helen seemed almost impressed.

“More like an attempted robbery, I reckon.”

“What happened?”

“A fella I knew in the war told me I should go out west with him. Said there was mountains of money to be had for men brave enough to go after it. I didn’t have much reason to stay, I guess, so I came. Turns out there wasn’t a whole lotta nothing, much less piles of money. Just a bunch of cutthroats and outlaws. Anyhow, one day he says he’s got a job we can do. We were going to rob a Wells Fargo coach. I says I don’t want no part of it. He tells me it’s loaded with all sorts of gold and cash. Says we’ll be rich.” Zeke trailed off, lost in regrets.

“So you turned to robbery?”

“It wasn’t my first choice, but there aren’t too many ways for a man like me to make a living out here. I was desperate.”

“Then what happened?” Zeke’s demeanor grew dark.

“There weren’t no money.” he said, “Just a defenseless little girl and her parents. I tried to protect them, but the mother was killed.”

“So who was on the train? The little girl?”

”No. Some rich British girl.”

“What?” Helen seemed shocked.

“This Englishman showed up and said he knew I’d been in on that robbery. Told me if I could find this girl, he’d represent me to a judge. Get me exonerated. Then I can go home.” Helen was quiet for a time as she processed all this information.

“What’s going to happen to those other girls if you don’t find them?” she finally asked.

“Couldn’t say.” Helen’s loose fitting shirt had fallen slightly off her shoulder offering Zeke a tantalizing view of her flawless skin. “Whatever it is, it won’t be pretty.”

“I suppose it’s lucky that she was with them, then. Otherwise no one might be looking for them.”

“I suppose.” replied Zeke. They rode on in silence for a while. Finally Helen spoke.

“When you find these women, I want to help you rescue them.”

“This here is dangerous business,” said Zeke, “better suited to rough characters like me.”

“Still,” said Helen, “I want to help.” Zeke considered her offer.

“It just might come to that.” he said gravely.

They rode on in silence for quite a while, each lost in their own thoughts. Zeke wondered what it would be like to see home again and Helen wondered what exactly it was she had gotten herself into. She decided it didn’t really matter. She would do what she could to help those women.

At length, Zeke stopped his horse and jumped down. He began examining the ground.

“What is it?” Helen asked trying to see what Zeke was looking at.

“They made camp here.” he pointed to a large tree, “The women were tied up around that tree. The men slept here. Looks like six of them.” He knelt down beside the tree.

“What are you looking for?”

“Signs of a struggle.”

“What would that mean?” Zeke didn’t take his eyes off the ground. Signs of a struggle.

“You don’t want to know.” he said grimly, “We need to keep moving.” Zeke got back in the saddle and spurred his horse onward.

As the day wore on and the sun moved to the western part of the sky, large clouds moved in, casting their enormous shadows on the earth. At one point during their ride, the pair came to the top of a hill that revealed a gorgeous vista before them. They could see clear to the horizon and the land stretched out in all directions. A lack of trees afforded an uninterrupted view. Here and there, breaks in the clouds allowed golden beams of light through to reach down and touch the earth.

“My God.” Helen was stunned. They paused for a moment, as not doing so seemed like a crime against Heaven. To Helen, the clouds seemed lit from within by a magnificent and holy flame. They glowed as though made from fire itself, frozen in the moment it billowed forth from a gigantic furnace. She could feel the warmth of it on her face, caressing her cheeks. She felt safe beyond words. She was awed.

To Zeke, the beams resembled supports holding up an impossibly large revival tent. It reminded him of something he had seen years before as a child when a traveling preacher came to town. His mother was very religious and for weeks before the actual event, she spoke of little else. Zeke had never seen his mother so excited. He and his younger brother wondered to each other what this grand revival might entail. They envisioned banquets and games, all manner of excitement. They thought the spectacle of it would be enough to overwhelm their young senses and give them a case of the howling fantods. As the day approached, they matched their mother in fevered anticipation. Mrs. McAllister dressed her two boys in their finest clothes and walked the twelve miles into Murfreesboro. When they arrived, the twilight was just fading into night and the tent was lit from within with an exciting glow. The two boys exchanged a glance. They were ready for this. When they got inside, all they found was a preacher and some chairs placed in rows. For the next four hours, all they heard about was how they were going to Hell for their sins. This disappointment with religion would stay with Zeke for the rest of his life.

Soon the sun had set and the sky grew dark. Zeke could no longer follow the trail.

“We’ll make camp here.” he said and began collecting wood for fire. Night came quickly and before long the fire was burning brightly, throwing out a ring of light and warmth. Zeke gave Helen some cornbread and beef jerky, which she ate hardly.

“I like this bread.” she said just to break the silence. Zeke had not said a word for some time. He was lost in thought. “Can you talk to me?” implored Helen.

“What?” Zeke snapped out of his daze.

“It’s rather scary out here and you’re making it worse by just sitting there, staring into the fire. What is it?”

“Something ain’t right.”

“How do you mean?”

“This ain’t how Indians usually behave. It’s not entirely without precedent, but it’s strange.”

“Are we in danger?”

“Not as much as them girls are.” This had a profound effect on Helen and she stopped eating. She pulled her legs to her chest and rested her chin on her knees.

“We’re still going to help them, aren’t we?”

“Yeah.” answered Zeke after a long moment. It made Helen uneasy.

“I don’t believe I’ll be able to sleep tonight.” she said, glumly.

“You will. As soon as that food hits your stomach, you’ll sleep.” Helen was not convinced. In fact, she was thinking about how unlikely that was as she slipped into slumber five minutes later. Zeke watched her snoozing for some time and eventually laid himself down. He hoped she would sleep better than he.

Sometime in the night, Zeke awoke suddenly. The fire had dwindled to embers and he could just make out Helen’s face. She was sleeping peacefully, probably for the first time in days. She looked so young. He watched her for a while, her chest rising and falling. With some chagrin, he realized that he wanted to get closer to her, feel her warmth. He felt as though sleeping beside her would stop his nightmares. Bring him peace. He fell asleep thinking about these things, not even considering that she might be married.

Daylight roused Helen from a deep slumber. She had slept like iron. She got up, stretched and walked around for a moment, waking herself up. Zeke was still asleep and she stood over him debating whether she should wake him. She felt safe around him, but not if he was sleeping. She knelt beside him and put her hand on his shoulder.

“Zeke?” she said softly, “It’s morning.” He didn’t respond. Gingerly, she began shaking him, “Zeke. Wake up.” Zeke awoke with a start, his hand instinctively finding his weapon. He quickly came to, grumbling.

“How late is it?” he yawned.

“I don’t know.” Zeke rubbed his eyes and looked around.

“Sun’s up.” he observed, “We need to get a move on.”

“Agreed.” The two of them quickly rolled up their beds and struck out, waiting until they were well underway before bothering to eat. Zeke found he was somewhat impressed by Helen’s constitution. He could tell by her hands and manners that she had lived a life of privilege as a lady’s maid and was most likely not accustomed to sleeping on the ground out of doors, still she offered no complaints. On the contrary, she almost seemed to be enjoying the whole affair. Despite all that she had experienced of late, she kept her head up and seemed generally positive

“So what’s your life like up there in Boston?” he finally asked after observing her for some time.

“Oh,” she sighed, “Fairly boring.”

“I would have thought city life would be pretty exciting.”

“Not as such. It can be rather mundane, sitting at home, waiting for my husband.” Zeke’s heart sank.

“So you’re married?”

“Yes.” Helen did not seem enthusiastic.

“What’s your husband’s name?”

“What?” Helen had drifted away, “Oh, Arthur.”

“What does he do for a living?”

“Are we getting close to the marauders?” Helen clearly had no interest in this subject.

“We should be.” answered Zeke, “The tracks are getting fresher.”

“And what is your plan for dealing with these men?”

“Don’t know yet.”

“You don’t know?” Helen was taken aback, “What do you mean? You must have a plan.”

“Why? I have no idea the size of the force I’m ultimately dealing with. I don’t know what they intend to do. Any plan would just be guessing.”

“You said there were six.”

“I said there were about six. Maybe that was a small part of a larger group. Maybe I’m wrong.”

“Are you often wrong?”

“All the damn time.” answered Zeke.

“It seems you have no faith in yourself.”

“That may be true.”

“Heaven help us.” Helen said, more to herself than him.

“Heaven don’t pay no mind to the going’s on out here.”

“So not only have you lost faith in yourself, but God as well?” Zeke made no reply. “So what do you have faith in?”

“My aim.” he said after a pause.

“I hope it is enough.”

“It usually is.” replied Zeke.

After several miles spent in silence, Zeke kicked his horse in the ribs.

“What is it?” Helen wanted to know, but Zeke didn’t answer. His eyes were trained on a single object in the distance. Helen tried to trace his gaze, but she could detect nothing strange in their path. After a while, Zeke drew his massive revolver and slowed his horse.

“What is it?” Helen desperately wanted to know.

“Shush.” came the reply. Zeke was fully alert. It made Helen nervous, but at the same time she had complete faith that he could handle whatever they might come across.

“Keep quiet.” said Zeke without taking his eyes off the horizon. After a long while, Helen noticed a strange bundle lying on the ground about a hundred yards ahead of them. She marveled at Zeke’s eyesight. How had he seen that from such a great distance, she wanted to know.

It seemed as though an hour passed before they were near enough to the bundle for Helen to make it out. It was a body. The dead man lay on his stomach, his face away from them. Zeke hopped down and kept his Colt trained on the man.

“Get up!” boomed Zeke, confusing Helen.

“Why are you yelling?” she asked, “Isn’t he dead?” Zeke spat on the ground.

“That’s what I thought the first time I laid eyes on you. I ain’t taking no more chances.” Helen stifled a smile, proud of herself that she had gotten the drop on such an experienced fighter. Zeke approached the man slowly, circling to the other side so he could see his face. Helen was transfixed. Zeke moved in, closer and closer all the while keeping his Colt aimed at the body. Unceremoniously, he kicked the corpse onto his back, revealing two gunshots to the chest.

“Good Lord.” gasped Helen, covering her mouth. Zeke knelt down for a closer look. “Was he murdered?”

“That appears to be the case.” Zeke frisked the man’s body, looking for anything that might give him a clue as to what lay ahead.

“What are you doing?” Helen demanded.

“Mind your own.” answered Zeke, removing the man’s belt pistol and stashing it in his waistband.

“Are you robbing a corpse?” Helen was genuinely horrified. Zeke paid her no mind. “I asked you a question.” Zeke continued his examination of the body.

“A dead man has no possessions, girl.” Zeke stood up and walked back to his horse.

“You will, at least, give him a Christian burial.” Zeke made no reply. Helen was aghast. “You mean to leave him here?”

“That’s right.” was the curt answer. Helen didn’t know what to think.

“You can’t do that.” she protested, “We have to bury him.”

“No.” replied Zeke, “We don’t.” Helen had heard enough.

“You are a cruel and indifferent man.” she announced. Zeke was fed up.

“Look around you.” he snapped, “This is a cruel and indifferent world. When you die, you rot. Don’t make any difference where you rot. The coyote’s gotta eat too.” Helen felt ill. She had never been so close to the artifacts of death. Her stomach turned and threatened to empty itself on the spot, but she managed to suppress it. She was no longer sure that she felt safe in Zeke’s presence. He seemed too comfortable with death for her to comprehend. They rode on in silence.

Helen could not manage to purge the image of the dead man from her mind. His eyes had stared up at the sky, open and unblinking. She could see it still. How easily Zeke seemed to kick the dead man onto his back. How callous. She couldn’t understand it, but felt she needed to.

“Were you in many battles?” she asked after perhaps an hour of oppressive silence.

“Yes.”

“How many?”

“Too many.”

“What’s it like?”

“Hell.” Helen found she could not imagine it or conjure a single image in her head that had not originated with some painting that depicted gallantry and excitement.

“Were you scared?”

“For a while.”

“So you eventually found encourage?” Zeke snorted derisively.

“Only fools have no fear. That ain’t courage. That’s stupidity. I’ve seen plenty of stupid men meet stupid ends. Courage is doing what you have to, even if you’re afraid.”

“What was it then? If you were no longer scared?” Zeke’s voice seemed tired.

“After a while,” he said, “after you’ve walked through the fields littered with dead men, you start to envy them. At least they get to rest. At least their war is over.”

“But you lived.” remarked Helen, “So your war is over too, right?”

“Yeah.” was all Zeke said. Sympathy now swelled in Helen’s heart. Perhaps she had been too quick to judge him.

“You’ve seen many dead men, haven’t you?” she asked after a few minutes.

“Yeah.” Helen had learned not to expect more than that in response.

They rode on into the afternoon without speaking. Helen listened to the wind in the trees and the sound of the birds. She wondered what Zeke might be thinking about but didn’t dare ask him. Every so often he would slow down and examine something on the ground. She didn’t bother to ask what. After a while, hunger began to rumble her stomach. Zeke showed no signs of stopping. In an ordinary situation, she would’ve simply kept quiet, but it had been quite a long time since she’d had a proper meal. She hoped Zeke would be the one to broach the subject, however, he seemed a thousand miles away. After a long while, Helen’s head began to ache.

“Zeke?” her tongue felt thick.

“Yeah?”

“Do we have anything left to eat?”

“No.” he answered simply. Helen didn’t know what his silence meant. Were they just going to starve now?

“So, what are we…”

“We’ll eat when we stop.” he didn’t wait for her to finish. She could sense that he was concentrating and thought it best to leave him be. He seemed to keep his horse moving at a brisk pace. Maybe they were getting closer, she thought but did not ask.

Instead, she kept herself occupied with the landscape, so different from what she had always known. It was strange to think that any life existed out here. The trees were so much smaller and the grass scarcer. At length, they came to a space with a better view of the land. The ground, which had been dimpled with small hills and stippled with trees flattened out in small pass between two steep cliffs. Zeke slowed his horse to a stop. For a while, nothing happened.

“Be quiet and still.” whispered Zeke into Helen’s ear. His breath had tickled her, but his tone froze her and she did not move. Where they in danger? Her eyes scanned the landscape. The grass was about knee high and she could see nothing on the ground. Up above, nothing seemed to be watching them from the cliffs, though she couldn’t be sure. Out of the corner of her eye, she kept thinking some movement had been detected. When she turned her head in whichever direction it had been, there was nothing there. She noticed that Zeke was holding a gun in his hand. Helen recognized it as the pistol he had taken from the dead man. It was much smaller than the Colts in his holsters.

After what seemed to her like ages, Zeke slowly raised his arms and trained the gun on something she could not see. She tried to follow his aim and thought she could detect some small thing moving through the grass. With no haste and without moving the rest of the gun, Zeke thumbed the hammer back. Helen shrank back against his chest and scrunched her face in anticipation of the shot.

BANG!

It finally came and had the odd effect of relaxing her, breaking as it did the tension that had been building.

“What was it?” she asked.

“Supper.” answered Zeke, giving his horse a gentle tap to urge him forward.

“Does gunfire not startle your horse? He seems remarkably calm.”

“He’s heard plenty of gunshots. It’s nothing new.” They rode about forty yards to a spot in the grass red with blood. Helen gasped

“A bunny?” she cried, “You shot a bunny?” The answer was pretty obvious. There, on the ground, was a plump rabbit, dead from a single shot. “Why?”

“I told you.” said Zeke, dismounting, “Supper.” Helen watched from the horse as Zeke picked up the dead thing by its hind legs and examined it.

“That’s disgusting.” chided Helen, “I cannot eat such a gentle creature.”

“That’s fine.” replied Zeke, “More eating for me.” He unsheathed his large knife. Helen was horrified.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“Well, I have to clean it.”

“Here?” she whimpered, “Now?” Zeke looked around.

“Where else would you have me do it?”

“I can’t watch this.” she said with her hand over her mouth.

“So don’t.” offered Zeke, plunging his blade into the belly before Helen could avert her eyes. Vomit convulsed her stomach. Zeke chuckled. “Where do you think beef jerky comes from?”

“That’s different.” she said, holding her stomach, “I don’t have to watch it being made.” Though she was thoroughly ill, Helen found herself curious enough that she tried watching Zeke prepare the meat. For a moment, she thought she would prevail. Most of the blood was gone and he seemed to be making only small, strategic cuts now. She had won, or so she thought. After a few more cuts, Zeke grabbed a hunk of fur and with a quick, clean jerk he had skinned the animal. Helen felt the color flee from her cheeks.