Ralph Compton Snake's Fury

PART ONE

THE GOOD OLD DAYS, WHEN WE KILLED EVERYONE, AND NO ONE KILLED US BACK

CHAPTER ONE

William Fox woke to the smell of coffee brewing and bacon sizzling in a pan. He sat up on his bedroll and collected himself. The Captain was hunched over in the woods, not too far away from the clearing where he’d set up his kitchen. Fox watched the old man bend down to tear a handful of herbs out of the ground and come up grinning. He held the greens to his face, inhaled their fragrance, and lumbered over to the large iron pot in the center of the clearing to toss them in.

Anyone who saw the Captain, with his fluffy white beard and unevenly cut hair, standing shirtless with his belly hanging over the waist of his pants, pale and slick like the underside of some enormous sea creature, would think they were looking at a fool. There were things about the Captain, though, that few other people knew. William Fox wasn’t sure he even knew the half of it.

The rest of the group known as the Yates Gang were asleep all around Fox. The men were scattered at the edges of camp and half of them had not made it back to their bedrolls. A few were propped up against trees, still clutching the empty bottles they’d passed out holding the night before.

The women were grouped together at the center of camp. They’d been herded there by Mother Marie, who wrangled them every night like a tenacious sheepdog. Mother Marie could go from nice as pie to meaner than a schoolmarm like the flick of a switch. She had curly black hair lined with streaks of silver that she always kept tied back in a bun. She was short and squat and she had a copious bosom and that’s where she kept her favorite weapon.

For as long as Fox had known her, she’d carried an old policeman’s baton between her breasts, with its leather strap hanging out the front of her shirt. The baton was as long as her arm and made of thick hickory. No one was sure where she’d gotten it and she wouldn’t ever tell the same story twice in a row. Over the years, Fox had heard her say she inherited it from her father, who was a policeman in Chicago, or that she’d won it in a card game in Kansas City from a group of policemen who were all trying to bed her.

The other story she told was that her first husband, whom she’d married at fourteen, used to get drunk and beat her with it. One night, she waited until he passed out. Then she picked up the baton and smashed his brains to pieces with it.

In all the time that William Fox had been a member of the Yates Gang, Mother Marie had always been in charge of the women. Nobody could tell the women what to do unless they had her say-so. Anyone who tried did not last long.

If a girl had to get up to relieve herself in the middle of the night, another was woken up to go with her. If a girl was caught in the bedroll of one of the men and hadn’t gotten permission to leave the sleeping area, Mother Marie would come after them both with her baton, and nobody would dare intervene.

Fox had seen Mother Marie chase stone killers out of camp with her stick, and when they’d finally return a few days later, they weren’t allowed back into the group unless they went to her and apologized.

That was a damned sight, for sure, Fox thought. A grown man who’d killed more people than he could count walking across camp with his hat in his hands and too nervous to speak to a fat old woman and ask her permission to come home.

As mean as she could be, Mother Marie had never turned any one of them down. She’d wait for them to finish apologizing. Then she’d wrap her arms around the man and pull his face down against her heavy chest and pat him on the back of the head and tell him that she knew he’d behave from now on, because she loved him and he was a good boy in his heart. Fox had seen more than a few of those men come away from her embrace crying.

Fox pulled on his shirt and buttoned it. Then he drew on his suspenders and slid his feet into his boots. He checked the next bedroll and saw that it was empty. No boots, no hat, no gun belt, and no gun remained there.

Fox made his way toward the kitchen area. The Captain had gone off again, in search of more ingredients for his stewpot, no doubt. There were several other pots cooking in the fire as well. Smaller ones filled with beans, or sliced apples bathed in melted sugar and butter, and another with so many eggs they were bubbling over the top.

There was a heap of freshly cooked bacon set on a tray and the ones on top of the heap were still bubbling hot. Fox grabbed a piece and blew on it to cool it, but before he could slide it into his mouth he heard someone call out, As long as I been cooking for you, I ain’t once missed telling you when it was ready, did I?

Fox inspected the bacon. It looks ready to me.

The Captain came around him toward the cooking pot with an armful of mushrooms that he tossed inside. Well, it ain’t, cause I ain’t said it.

My apologies, Fox said as he put the bacon down.

Well, don’t go putting it back with the others after your grubby hands touched it!

You just said I couldn’t eat it!

You’re the damn commander of this outfit. I reckon you can do as you see fit even if it’s eating food that ain’t ready yet!

Fox picked the piece of bacon back up and stuffed it in his mouth. He chewed and pointed at the pot. Looks like you’re making something special. What kind of mushrooms did you find?

Oh, just some of the ones that make a man see all manner of demons and specters, that’s all. Should be fun around here later on. The Captain went over to the stewpot to inspect it and Fox snatched two more pieces of bacon off the pile and stuffed them in his mouth. The Captain looked up from the pot and Fox stopped chewing.

You think you’re slick but you ain’t, the Captain said.

Fox swallowed the food and said, Is the coffee ready at least?

It is, and I made it thick enough you’ll need a spoon to drink it, the Captain said. He grabbed a mug from the nearest bucket and poured it full of steaming coffee.

Fox took the mug and sipped it. Seen the kid?

He’s down by the river, the Captain said.

Fox looked in that direction. How is he?

Last I saw, he was chucking rocks at the water and having a regular old conversation with himself.

About what?

Let me think. Oh, it was about some big, stupid, ugly sumbitch who treated him like a fool.

Fox nodded and took another sip. Well, act like a fool and I expect that’s what happens.

The Captain grabbed a plate from the bucket and carried it over to the fire. He ladled up beans and eggs until the plate was full and handed it to Fox. Now the food’s ready.

Fox reached for the bacon and the Captain said, You had your share of that already, boy.

I was just testing you, old man, Fox said. He leaned back against a tree and started to eat. The Captain found a chunk of bread and handed it to him to sop up the beans with. How long do you think I should let him chuck rocks and curse me?

Hard to say, the Captain said. Maybe he’ll understand why you did what you done and be a better man for it. Or maybe the memory will bore into his brain like a worm and rot it from within and he’ll grow up evil and hateful and it will be all your fault.

Fox kept eating. I had good cause to do what I did.

Didn’t expect you did.

We’re not killers.

The Captain let out a small hoot of a laugh.

You know what I mean, Fox said.

The Captain went over to the stewpot and started to stir it. You know, a lot of this is your fault.

How so?

Gang needs a number two. Someone to help share the burden of leadership. That way, you get to sit back and let the number two do the disciplining and such. Meanwhile, you get to be everybody’s friend.

Fox, who’d been staring at his plate as the Captain spoke, finally said, Gang has a number two.

It does? the Captain asked. He leaned over to look past Fox with wide eyes. Who’d you pick?

You know damn well who I mean. Jasper’s the number two in this outfit until I say otherwise.

Well, he ain’t here, is he?

He will be.

When?

When he’s ready, Fox snapped.

Fine, fine, the Captain said. All I know is, we got a fair amount of folk here who’d give anything for that position and only a handful who’d be worth a squirt doing it. That boy down there is your best of the bunch, far as I can see.

He’s too young.

You were young once too, from what I recall.

I had a better man in charge of me than the one they do now, Fox said.

The Captain snorted. Mark my words, William, the longer you let this go on, the worse it’s going to get. Those with any sense will move on and all we’ll be left with is the worst of the bunch. If you can’t make peace with that boy, best thing you can do for him is run him off now, before he turns.

Is that what you think I should do?

Don’t matter what I think. You’re the one in charge.

Fox scraped the rest of his eggs off the plate until it was clean, and chewed. If that was me down there chucking rocks at the river, cursing your name, you’d have gone and talked to me.

I reckon that’s true, the Captain said. But then again, look how hopeless you turned out to be.

*   *   *

Fox made his way through the woods toward the river that ran behind their camp. It was a good natural barrier. The water was deep enough that any sheriff’s posse would have trouble crossing it on horseback without kicking up a hell of a racket, and better yet, it was full of snakes. Water moccasins were plentiful anywhere south of the Missouri River, but in this particular spot, there were so many of them you could see the sun reflecting off their speckled bodies on the surface of the water.

Every time someone in the gang went fishing he’d come back with more snakes than fish, but that was all right. The Captain had a recipe to slather them in oil and salt and fry them up in strips.

Fox had no great love of snakes. One had bitten him as a child and he could still recall the terrified moments as his older brother held him down and his father cut an X in his heel with a sharp knife to draw out the poison. There were plenty of thin tree branches scattered on the ground near the water and Fox inspected each one as he walked near, making sure a tree branch was all it was.

He walked the embankment until he saw the young man standing on a large flat rock, looking out at the water with both his arms folded. His head turned as Fox approached, but he looked away again when he saw who it was.

Fox came up alongside him on the rock and stood with his hands on his hips, looking out at the water. Breakfast is ready.

I’m not hungry.

You going to just stand here like so, then?

Something wrong with how I stand now too?

Fox ran his tongue around the inside of his mouth. Nope. Stand here long as you like. Guess you ran out of rocks to throw. I’m right here if you want to keep cursing me, though.

The younger man sniffed in disgust. That old bastard’s mouth is almost as big as his gut. Somebody ought to put a knife in it and see if maple syrup don’t spill out of him.

Fox closed his eyes. He took off his hat and wiped his face. His skin felt hot against his palm. What the hell’s wrong with you, Ash?

What the hell’s wrong with me? What the hell’s wrong with you?

Fox swatted the hat from the young man’s head, knocking it into the water. Fox peered down at him, so close that their noses were almost touching. You got a problem with me? Let’s address it right now.

Ashford Sinclair’s eyes were wide with anger. He’d been surprised at how fast Fox had moved to knock away his hat. How close he’d come to being struck across the face. Fox was taller than him and broader at the shoulders and it suddenly occurred to him that the gang’s leader could hold his own in a fight. He swallowed his pride and said, You had no cause to chastise me like that in front of everyone.

You shot a man in front of his son.

One that was going to shoot you if I didn’t.

I had the situation under control!

Like hell you did, Ash said. I saved your life and all you done since was act like I committed some kind of mortal sin.

That boy was only ten years old and you killed his father directly in front of him. Do you know what that means? He’ll be hunting us the rest of his life. He’ll spend the next sixty years trying to get revenge, all because of you. Those are problems we don’t need! We’ll both be old men looking over our shoulders for him and a dozen others like him if you don’t get smart.

"Well, I tried to fix that problem."

We’ve been together awhile now, Fox said. And I have affection for you—I honestly do—but so help me God, you ever threaten the life of a child again, if you ever suggest we harm a child again, if you so much as think of touching the hair on the head of one child, ever again, I will kill you. Do you understand me?

It was only because he’d seen us—

Do it again, I will kill you.

All right, I heard you, Sinclair said. He took a step back from Fox and ran his hand through his hair. I was only trying to scare him a little. I wouldn’t have done it.

Fox pressed his fingers against his forehead and squeezed. Listen, I know why you shot. It’s just, that’s not how I want us to do things. From now on, you do as I say. Is that clear?

Even if it means you get killed?

Even if it means I get killed, Fox said.

Sinclair shook his head. That don’t make no kind of sense.

Listen, if you don’t want to follow my orders, you’re free to go. There’s plenty of bloodthirsty maniacs out there raping and pillaging everything they see. I’d suggest you take a look around, though. We haven’t lost a man in two years. We got food aplenty. We all get equal share in every score. The law’s not breathing down our necks either, is it? Anybody thinks they can find a better deal somewhere else, I say go find it. Anybody who stays does it my way, come hell or high water, and that’s final. Now, you want to continue to be a part of this outfit or not?

Sinclair squinted at Fox in the overhead sun. If I left you alone with these fools, you’d be dead in a week.

We might.

I suppose someone ought to keep an eye on you. Guess I’ll stay.

Good, Fox said. He put his hand on Sinclair’s shoulder and squeezed. It’s not always easy following orders. Trust me, I know. But following them will make you better prepared for the day when you’re running things and you’re the one handing them out. Especially to snot-nosed punks who think they know better.

I’m never running nothing.

Just you wait. Someday I’ll be the old man cooking and you’ll come to me and say, ‘I can’t believe how right you were all them years ago. I wish I’d seen how smart you was.’

Sinclair laughed. That’ll be the day.

Fox leaned sideways to see where the younger man’s hat had gone. It was sitting upside down in the water several feet off the shore. We’d better get that before it floats away. I’ll find something to fish it out with.

He got down from the rock to find a long enough branch, but when he turned around, Sinclair was already heading into the water.

Hey! Fox cried. Get out of there!

Sinclair was thigh deep in the river by the time he reached his hat. He bent forward to scoop it up, turned it upside down and brushed it off, then put it on his head and started back toward the shore.

As he came up on the shore, Fox saw something dangling from the young man’s belt like a length of black rope. It was long and coiled and writhed as water dripped from its reticulated body. Fox leapt backward and clambered up the embankment, jabbing the air with his finger in terror.

Sinclair looked down and saw the cottonmouth dangling from his belt. Its jaws opened wide to reveal its fangs. He grabbed it behind the head and pulled it away from his belt to look at it. Looks like I found someone who wants to join the gang.

The snake twisted and hissed and struggled to bite Sinclair, and Fox sputtered on his words, trying to tell him to be careful.

Sinclair flung the snake back into the water, then wiped his hands on his pants. Let’s go eat.

*   *   *

Mother Marie stood at the edge of the clearing with her hands planted on her hips. I’m going down there, she said.

No, you ain’t, the Captain said.

Yes, I am, and don’t you tell me what to do, you old coot.

Now, you leave them be, woman. I told you it’s business between them and it’s them what need to sort it out.

Mother Marie sniffed. You never once told me nothing except a bunch of nonsense.

I told you everything you ever known that’s worth knowing!

Ha! Mother Marie said. Did you save enough food for Ash?

If he wanted to eat he should have been here when breakfast was served, I reckon, the Captain said.

Mother Marie raised her police baton and leveled it at the old man. I told you to make sure you saved him some.

I’d have been able to if you hadn’t taken seconds.

I did no such thing!

I saw it with my own blamed eyes!

You’re too blind to see your hand in front of your own face! It’s a wonder you ain’t poisoned all of us with whatever it is you put in that stewpot!

My eyes were good enough to see you eat six pieces of bacon and four—no—five eggs!

Mother Marie drew her baton out of her chest and the Captain threw up his arms and ducked when someone called out, What in the world is all that racket?

William Fox and Ashford Sinclair emerged from the trees. Fox waved for Mother Marie to lower her baton. I can’t leave you two alone without you being ready to tear each other’s throats out?

Let ’em go, Sinclair said. He winked at Mother Marie. My money’s on the pretty lady.

Mother Marie’s cheeks puffed out in a smile as she swept around to loop her arm through Sinclair’s. She pinched him on the cheek and said, That’s why you’re my favorite out of all these degenerates, sweetie.

Glad to see you both back, the Captain said.

Fox nodded and clapped Sinclair on the back. He heard there was breakfast to be had and couldn’t stay away.

Well, he’s out of luck, Mother Marie said. This old fool didn’t save him none.

The Captain reached under a cloth near the stack of dirty dishes and came up holding a plate piled high with beans, eggs, bacon, and a chunk of bread. He passed it to Sinclair and said, Here you go, son. Don’t listen to this old bat. I’d never let you go hungry.

Sinclair carried the plate back to his bedroll and Fox followed behind him.

The Captain stood next to Mother Marie to watch them walk away. I hope you die, she muttered. The Captain folded his arms over his round belly and chuckled with laughter.

*   *   *

By nightfall music filled the camp. Ernest Berry, the gang’s dynamite man, was a mean fiddler despite missing three fingers on his right hand. Grover Hill, a gunman who’d joined the crew the year before, only had four teeth but he did not let that stop him from clenching a jaw harp in his mouth and strumming it until even the sternest members of the outfit found themselves tapping their thighs along with him.

A group of the women danced in a whirling circle under Mother Marie’s watchful eye. They waved their long skirts and kicked their feet up high, making the men who watched clutch their chests and pretend to pass out when they caught a glimpse of the undergarments hidden beneath.

The Captain leapt into the fray like a potbellied spring that coiled and bounced in time to the music. Mother Marie chased after him, yelling, Get away from my girls, you idiot! You’ll fall over and crush one of them to death!

The Captain bounced down, out of sight, between the girls as Mother Marie ran after him. He reappeared behind her and grabbed her around the hips. She yelled at him to quit it but he smiled at her foolishly and kept dancing long enough that before long, she was dancing too.

While Mother Marie was occupied, several of the unattended girls snuck off into the woods to be with their men. A couple scurried up the nearest hill, where they saw William Fox leaning against a tree, staring down at them.

Roger Albright and Wendy Jenkins both froze in place at the sight of him.

Roger Albright was in his mid-twenties and had been with the gang for three years. He was a capable man but not remarkable in any particular way. He looked average, he spoke and thought average, and he robbed trains and banks in the average way. He was the kind of man Fox never expected to take a lead in the gang, but also the kind he figured wouldn’t lead them all to ruin.

Wendy Jenkins was a good girl, as far as Fox knew. She wasn’t one of the loose women who seemed to make a sport of bedding every man in the gang like it was worth points in a strange game. She did her share and listened to Mother Marie. She was blond haired and pretty enough, with a wide nose and thin lips. She was, Fox thought, about average in terms of the women there in the same way that Albright was average in terms of the men.

If they were together, Fox thought, good for them. Maybe they’d make something of it and run off together and get regular jobs and raise a whole gaggle of average kids.

Hey—hey, William, Albright said. I, uh, I was just showing Wendy this—uh, you see—there’s a tree I wanted to show her, he said.

William Fox took a drag from his long-stemmed pipe and blew smoke from the side of his mouth. A tree?

Yes, sir, Albright said, and swallowed again. It’s a special one.

Fox glanced at Wendy. How about you, Miss Jenkins? Mother Marie know you went off to see this special tree?

Wendy’s eyes widened. I would have asked her but she was too busy dancing.

Fox looked past them and saw that Mother Marie had locked her arm with the Captain and the two of them were doing the do-si-do. Make sure you’re back before you’re missed, Fox said. We never saw each other.

They both thanked him and hurried into the darkness.