Kid Barlow's Ace in the Hole

Chapter 3: Crying Times

Four years later, Kid’s bankroll equaled $136 dollars. He felt like a rich man. I think I gotta have me a horse if me and Pa ever gonna make it over to Memphis for the Big One. Maybe the boss man can help me out.

Just as Kid started to hunt up the boss, a man dressed all in black entered the stable on a beautiful black gelding. Red road dirt covered both man and horse, but Kid never saw such a cowboy as this. His hand-tooled saddle creaked and the silver spurs clinked as he dismounted. The man steadied his hat pulling the wide brim down over his eyes. Kid stared at the silver and turquoise Concho circling the hat. The man wore a bullet around his neck and his essence seemed to suck up all the light in the room.

“Can you look at my horse’s left rear hoof?”

“Sure. How soon you need it done, Mr…er...”

The man didn’t give a name. Kid didn’t notice. He stared at the two .45 colt Peacemakers the man carried. Light danced off the silver grips. The man bent down and re-tied one of the suede straps around his leg that held each gun pouch down.

“No rush. I get him tomorrow. Got a stall?”

“Yes, sir. No problem. I’ll have him ready tomorrow wherever you want him.”

The man nodded, turned and left.

Kid took the horse over to a stall and unsaddled him. He heard Mr. Roberts outside and went to help his boss finish loading up Mr. Ballentine’s buckboard with horse feed. Them feed bags sure looks purty. I bet Mrs. Ballentine will sport a new bonnet soon.

“Nice doin’ business with you, Ballentine. Tell the missus hello.”

“Will do, Henry.” The wagon creaked under the weight as Ballentine got in and pulled off.

“Ah, Mr. Roberts, sir,“… Kid held his lower lip between his teeth. “Ah, about that money I got saved up.” Kid swayed from one foot to the other.

“Sure, Kid. You needing some of it?”

“Not exactly, sir. I’m wantin’ to buy a horse. I oughta have ‘bout half the money I need. Could you help me find a good one? You know we could just look around a bit.”

“Glad to help. Tell you what, we’ll start looking for one and if we find a horse before you save all the money, I’ll loan you the difference. No interest. You can keep your horse down in that last stall if you’ll clean out all the junk, haul it out back, and burn it. You can have the stall at no charge, but you will have to pay for the feed. That okay with you?”

“Mighty fine, sir. Can’t thank you enough.” Kid grabbed Roberts’ hand and started pumping it.

“Whoa, Kid. You gonna detach my arm if your not careful.” He laughed at the exuberant twenty-year old.

Gun shots halted the laughter. “That damn old Gus! Drunk again and trying to shoot Miss Lila’s cat,” said Roberts. “Miss Lila’s will screech like a banshee if that cat’s dead.”

“Let’s keep this horse thing one of them secrets jist me and you know about. I can’t let on to Ma none. I’ll tell Pa later. Me and Pa will travel to the Big One on a real horse. Pa always dreamed of winning the Big One in Memphis. Now, we‘ll go together.”

“I understand, Kid. That’s not a problem.”

The door crashed like a herd of horses stampeding through. Startled, Roberts drew his gun as he and Kid looked up.

“Kid, your Pa’s shot! It were a ruckus over at the saloon! Come quick……they’s done sent for the doc!”

Kid sprinted to the saloon; his hat flew off his head; he didn’t care. Covering the five rickety steps in two leaps, Kid slammed both doors against the inside walls. Bam!

Kid blinked his eyes to help adjust to the dim room. Bartender George Pennington pinned a stranger against the bar and Willie Martin pointed a gun at the man’s head. Kid recognized the black tooled boots and silver spurs.

“PA? PA!”

Spying a group circled in the back, Kid rushed over pushing everyone out of his way. “Pa, Pa!” he howled amid deep sobs.

“Get away from my Pa. I mean everyone. Go see what’s keeping that doctor.” He dropped to the dirty floor pooling with Pa‘s blood and cradled the beloved head in his lap.

“I’m here, Pa. I‘m right here beside you just like always. Pa, look at me. Open your eyes.”

Jess rasped with a labored air supply, “I’ll…get…alright, Son. Don’t...you...worry none.”

“Outta my way, you jackasses. Let me take a look see at Jess.” Doc Hardin tried to kneel but his huge belly halted his progress. “Put him up on the table.”

Several men hoisted Jess on the poker table where he played cards for so many years. They stood back and let the doc in. “Why’d that man shoot my pa?” Kid asked no one in particular.

“The stranger cheated. Jess called him on it and stood up. The stranger stood, drew his pistols cross-armed, and fired," answered Cameron Weiss. "Jess never saw it coming. Quick as lightening it happened. That hombre displayed some mighty fancy shootin‘. I bet he's not just any gunslinger!”

Doc finished examining Jess. “I ain’t gonna lie to you, Jess. Bad, real bad…I can’t get the bullets. Gotta bandage this up and send you on home. You got hit in the gut and I suspect in a lung.”

Jess coughed. “Kid?”

“Yes, Pa?” His face looked chalk-white; tears surged down his cheeks.

“Ask… Henry…borrow…wagon…take me home.”

Kid turned to get a wagon, but Henry Roberts stood behind him. Roberts put a hand on Kid’s shoulder. “I’ll get the wagon. Won‘t take me fifteen minutes.” He turned and left.

The sheriff arrived and went over to the shooter. He hand-cuffed the man. Them hands appear awful small for a gunfighter. He turned the man around. This ain’t no man. Whoever see’d a man with such a tiny waist and rounded hips? Sheriff Perkins jerked the black shirt open. “This ain’t no man! It’s a damn woman. Look at these bound-up breasts!” He took out a pocket knife and ripped the binding half way down from the top. No doubt about it. A woman done shot Jess.

The crowd gasped and gaped. Everybody started talking at once.

“What in the Land of Hell did you do, woman? Why’d you shoot Jess?

The woman spat in the sheriff’s face. His backhand busted her lower lip. This time she spat spittle mixed with blood in his face.

“Take her and lock her up.” His deputy wrestled his prisoner none too gently toward the door. “Wagons’ here,” he yelled back as they exited the Tumbleweed.

Four men carried Jess to the wagon and gently put him down. Kid crawled up and took the reins. “Does Ma know?“ Kid asked no one in particular.

“Yeah, Brad Tucker went to tell her.” Three men climbed into the wagon with Jess.

“Kid, you just stay home the rest of the day,” Roberts ordered. Kid started to tell him about the new horse that needed taking care of. Then, he remembered who owned it and said nothing. Kid flicked the reins and the horse pulled the wagon taking Pa home to die.

A dry-eyed Ma met them at the door. “This way,“ she said wringing her hands as she led them to her bedroom, a first in the last ten years for Jess. The men left with the wagon. Kid pulled the rocking chair beside the bed and sat beside Pa. Ma came to apply a cool compress to Jess’s forehead.

Kid jerked the rag from her hands. “Get out,” he spat through clenched teeth. “I’ll take care of Pa. You haven’t tended him for years, so don’t start now. He’s mine, not yours. Git away.”

Ma turned and left the room without uttering a word. She shut the door to the bedroom and started cooking for lack of anything else to do.

Kid cleaned Pa’s face, checked his bandages, and sat by him through the night. The house seemed eerily quiet as Pa lay unconscious. Funny how you can hear the silence. Awake, Pa coughed up blood and tried to tell his son important things.

He made sure to give Kid his hat, .44 pistol, playing cards, and good belt. Later, he told Kid where he hid the gun. “You… keep it… hid from… Ma.”

“I will.” Kid clenched Pa’s hand most the night, his tears washing their clasped hands. If You want Pa, Lord, your gonna have to tug him all the way to Heaven. I ain’t letting him go without a fight.

At dawn the rooster started to crow, Pa roused and motioned Kid in close to his lips. “I…ain’t…never…. gonna….git…“ He coughed. “To…win… Big One, Kid. You gotta… do… it. Promise me.”

“I promise, Pa.”

He coughed twice more. “You remember: play relaxed… controlled…straight faced.”
Pa closed his eyes, squeezed Kid’s hand and a last whoosh escaped his chest.

Kid put his head down on Pa's chest, then wiped his tears, and closed Pa's eyes. "I love you, Pa and always will. I'll get that tournament fer us. Truly, I will." He kissed Pa's cheek and looked at him one more time before turning away.

Kid opened the door and told Ma she could go in. She looked Kid in the eyes. They stared at each other for a brief time. Then, she shook her head in agreement and went in.

Kid went outside to feed their donkey and Ma’s chickens. He found Pa’s gun in the lean-to the two built for the donkey. Kid rubbed the gun like he expected a genie to appear and make things right again. He never owned anything near as valuable as a gun. He replaced the gun in the hiding place and went inside.

He found Ma rocking beside the bed and just looking at Pa. He wondered what she thought about, but sure wasn’t gonna ask. “I’m going to work, Ma.”

“When you get your break today, go by Holstein’s and git a casket.” She went to one of her hidey holes and took out some cash and handed it to Kid. “This ought to cover the charge. Then, ask the preacher if he will meet us at the cemetery tomorrow afternoon at two o’clock to say a few words over Pa.”

“I’ll borrow Mr. Robert’s wagon to bring the casket home and take it to the cemetery. He won’t mind.” Kid left and started the long hike into town with an empty heart and gut to keep him company.