Empty boots sat in a corner of a stone guest room in Fort Cross. Feet bare and legs in long johns paced by them.

  Not famous for patience, Chip was probably asking what in dad’s name was taking me and Big Owl so long. What would our findings in our conversation with the evangelist be? Finally, he resigned to a sitting position on the firm mattress, where a Gideon’s Bible waited.

  After retrieving reading glasses from his shirt pocket, he read the words, “Washed in blood.” He thought of corpses of Apache Indians in that boneyard garden then weighed his responsibility to avenge the bloodshed of Grand Josians inside the crumbled Inn.

  What if he couldn’t? What if the evangelist was right? He compared himself to yours truly, the way I overthink things. He’d be damned if he’d follow the route of this worrying fool.

  Flipping the pages for something else to keep him occupied, he sped through stories of mere mortals becoming patriarchs. He burned the breeze through verses, reading in the manner of which he fought and lived.

  The Autumn night brought a warmth without too much humidity, and when he looked up, his glasses fell to his nose. A figure stood at the doorway. Diamond came forward; she wore a cotton bathrobe and a lifeless gaze.

  “I’m in my unmentionables.” He chuckled.

  “And I’m in this bathrobe they had laying out, and no wig.”

  She ambled over and plopped next to him. Chip could almost relish in the steam of her nearby presence alone, but he’d not think about making any move, not after what she’d been through with Dylan. He admired her straight blonde, wet locks. She had no need for the rug.

  “I reckon losing Dylan took the blush right out my face. Otherwise, I’d run the other way if I saw you in your—” She whispered, “Long johns.”

  He sucked at his cheek and made a vow to her. “Listen, Calamity Dyer will pay for the curse she’s brought on us. An eye for an eye is in the code of the West.”

  “That won’t bring Dylan back.”

  He opened his Bible somewhere in the middle, Psalms 46:5. Only a second of averting his attention felt like he’d left her hanging forever. He gave her a closed mouth smile between a five-o-clock shadow and eye glasses and said, “Cowboy up, Diamond.”

  She wasn’t offended by tough love, even respected it, but couldn’t return the hospitality. She stared off and said, “I was thoinking. Why don’t I go up there and give my best regards to them soldiers. They served like Dylan. If he were alive, I’d want everyone to greet him, show appreciation. Especially, knowing what can happen. I mean really knowing.”

  “You should go.”

  “I can’t go alone.”

  “Since when does Diamond Wilder need help doing what she wants?”

  “I’m not me right now.”

  “I’ll level with you. I don’t want to go to the third floor. But I tell you what, let’s get dressed, and we’ll roam the second.”

  ***

  Wild neck rag and freshly clean square jaw led up to Chip’s wandering eyes. Commotion from gun shops, laughter from men in uniform, and a banjo playing from a man on stage filled the room.

  Diamond patted her big wig, spreading whatever air of vibrance she could muster. “We do noid to reload,” she said.

  Diamond shot a hard stare over at a jean and vest wearing old man with a humped over back and one eye. He had a mixed party of sky-blue coat wearing American soldiers and snake shirt Mexican fighters guffawing and leg slapping. “When the cow set on ma cowboy hat, you know what I sed? Time to get a new hat.” In the middle of their hooting, he said, “Wait, I know that young lady.”

  ***

  Chip and Diamond traded skids over the counter for ammunition then spun around to the eyepatch wearing old man, who was extending his neck up to a full grin. “Gal, do you remember me?”

  “General Jones.” She smiled. “Of course.”

  If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  “And you’re the sheriff,” he said, eyeing Chip’s badge.

  “That’s correct. And General, thank you for your service.”

  “If you really want to thank me, why don’t you and that gal go up there on that stage after the banjo player finishes. I want to see a show.”

  Diamond fanned herself. “General Jones, you’re putting me on the spot, aint you?”

  “Gal, ever since I left Grand Jose, I been longing— I say longing—for the songs, jokes, and stories you would perform at the Saloon in Grand Jose. If you can’t do it for me, do it for ma service.”

  Diamond batted her eyes, while Chip gripped his forehead in unease.

  “It’s ma dying wish.”

  Right then, the last lyric of the banjo popped, and the player bowed. General Jones said, “Excuse me.” He made his way through the soldiers. His approaching the stage replaced the applause with silence. “Ladies and gentlemen, I present the pharmacy gal and the sheriff.”

  The smiling crowd narrowed in on them, forcing them up on stage. Chip had a thumb pressing one temple on his head and a middle finger, the other.

  A compassionate look came over Diamond’s countenance for the wounded general. She threw a finger up, raised her voice, and said, “Sheriff, you’re in here with a cold again this week? I would give you cough syrup to clear your lungs, but by now I imagine you done hacked the last one out.”

  “Jesus H. Christ. Let me go back to my room,” Chip shouted to ensuing laughter.

  “Now I been telling you it aint polite to be taking the Lord’s name in vain, and there you go adding an H to it.”

  “Shit.”

  She put her hands on her hips. “Ok? I have opium to help your digestion, but is there a more polite way you can ask?”

  The crowd laughed and pointed. From among them, the eyepatch wearing man shouted, “He has the backdoor trots.”

  When Chip turned to Diamond, fuming, she began to serenate him in song, swaggering and kicking her dress up to clapping and whistling.

  Right when Chip would walk away, he turned and saw a sparkle in her eyes. She took his hand and pulled him in, singing and dancing.

  At one point, she went to a slow song and placed her head on his chest. He held a stoic expression, hiding the tingly feeling inside his gun holstered heart. “It’s an act,” he said to himself. “Don’t fall for her more than you already have, big boy.”

  The voice of his stepfather came through. “No girl of value will give herself over to a nitwit like you.”

  As Diamond finished and curtsied, a man in the crowd said, “We wanna see a smooch.”

  She shook her head. “Seriously, I never kissed a boy in my twenty-three years.”

  “Kiss him.” The soldiers chanted with foot stomping and table rocking.

  If a stare could penetrate, hers would have cut right through the sheriff’s eyes. She heaved a breath. Our grappling champ felt his lips quivering.

  Right when the room went silent, heads began to turn the other way, and murmuring began. One voice after another said, “The evangelist is here.”

  Two African accented voices shouted, “Make way, make way. Do it before we strike you.”

  After the crowd was displaced to either side or the other, the evangelist was seen betwixt his slaves, hand on cane and leering.

  He tipped his hat, strode forward, and hopped on stage. “If the lass will be macked with such affection she’s neva felt, let it be by such a one as myself whom all women long to touch.”

  Diamond turned red as fire and said, “You’re quite fancy and romantic, and may I say self-absorbed for a preacher.”

  He twirled his cane, leered at the audience, and turned his attention back. “Each lace of velvet you see me in has been bought by my pofound passion and most commendable life commission. What possibly could be godlia than my ethic?”

  Chip shoved him. “You’re making her uncomfortable.”

  “Sheiff, what has led to such hostility? Maybe, we should stat ova? I’m seeking to offa help. So, let me fust say, pay patton me for the tough demeana of my savvents, but let me tell you! Doc Apollo in my S.H.D.E Saloon upset them.”

  “Yeah, what’s your point,” Chip said.

  “My point is this. Do you stand by a man who said to me—Mind you, I’m a man of the cloth and with a schedule you’d neva believe, and I’m taking time to speak to him of danga in his path—and he told me.” He looked around at the crowd and made a fist. “He told me and I quote, ‘fuck you, you son of a bitch.’”

  Diamond’s eyes popped, while the crowd gasped and murmured.

  “Attention, everyone. Let this bull of the law tell us if that is just.”

  “It’s atwixt him and you.”

  “Atwixt us? Point taken.” He traversed from stage to crowd with big steps, turned back to Chip, wagging his cane. “He’s not ya; ya not him. So, let’s see how ya take my advice.”

  Chip threw his hands up. “Go on.”

  “Let me commend ya. I neva, Sam Hill neva, the dak entities neva, not even the clayavoyant entities neva guessed ya would get through the Indians, much less make acquaintances with the chief, and then obtain the savvices of those light entity animals that flew ya this close to Mexico. We all assumed ya’d die on the way.”

  “Please, tell us what you have to say,” Diamond insisted.

  Leaning forward with hands resting between his chin and cane, he said, “The powa of entities comes with a payment of blood. What blood loan did that big Indian take out to pay for ya light entity flight?”

  Right as he spoke, Chief entered from the downward stairwell, brandishing a stone scalping knife. “Why everyone look at me? Just got back from outhouse and wanted to find blacksmith to make sword sharper.”

  The evangelist winked at the audience. “At sun up, mista law man, you will indeed meet Calamity Dya on a ship that will take you to Mexico, but don’t get ova eaga. You will not do battle. It will be a mutual ship with both dak and light entities mediating. Doc Apollo, for how well he reppasented himself to me, can meet one on one with Calamity. There, she will infam him on the oath that Indian must pay. Then, Calamity may get a head stat to the pat of Mexico she will stay.”

  The chief frowned, looking as if he may surge forward, causing the evangelist to cower behind his slave men. “Now, I’m much too busy to be on the ship, but I’ve passonally stated to Dunba that he shall not tell you the location whea Calamity will go, until the light entities have been made whole with eve’y last drop of blood that Indian owes.”

  As the crowd went into an uproar, the evangelist taunted the chief with his stick, while high-tailing it to the nearest exit.