Cool Water

"How much further?" the younger Reynolds boy, Jimmy, whined as he vainly wiped his face with his father's handkerchief.

"Still a week's trip to California," his father told him. Scanning the cloudless blue sky, Sam muttered to himself, "No relief in sight."

Sam Reynolds' momentary deep thoughts were interrupted by the wagon trail boss, 'Big' Bill Schuller.

"We gotta get these horses some rest." There was a short pause as Big Bill drained some tepid water from his canteen. "A little water for them would be good too."

"Been three days since we've seen any drinkable water," Sam reminded him.

"Ain't gotta tell me that," Big Bill replied, kicking up dust as he slid down from his steed. "There's a town called Prairie View 'bout four miles from here. We should be able to make that with no problem."

Sam Reynolds looked back at the other four covered wagons behind him, each bearing a different family and their favorite possessions. "We got a lot of tired, hungry people back here, so I don't think four miles will be a problem." Looking back at his son, Sam found himself wondering if this trip was such a good idea.

Sam had been forced to uproot seven year old Jimmy and his older sister, Sarah, from their school and friends for this trip. The journey also caused Rachel to leave the teaching position she'd sworn never to abandon. But, after Sam's troubles with the law, he felt he needed a new start and the lure of luscious green pastures in California had been too much to resist. Rumors of gold in the California hills just made Sam more anxious to get there.

The caravan made it to Prairie View within an hour. The travellers were greeted by a thin man in a tall hat.

"Good to see you folks. Mayor John Jenkins is my name and this is my town."

The mayor pointed the dusty travelers in the direction of the livery stables and helped them disembark.

While the Scott twins, Eddie and Foster, led the group that took the horses to the livery stables, Sam and Big Bill headed to the nearest saloon, making sure the children wouldn't follow them in.

They had no sooner been seated than a thin man bearing drinks approached them. "What''ll it be gents?" He flashed an obviously forced smile.

"Water would be fine," Sam muttered.

The bartender laughed.

"Something funny?" Big Bill asked, unconsciously clenching his fists and rising from his chair.

The bartender's laughter stopped. "Uhh, n-no, sir. Not at all." He backed up a step and his hands went up defensively. "It's just that we ain't seen no rain in these parts in more than a month. Folks are getting scared, some are even moving away." He forced a smile.

Sam rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "This drought must extend all over Kansas."

The bartender laughed nervously. "Guess so. So what'll it be, gents?" He stepped back toward the beer keg, happy to put some distance between himself and these newcomers.

Both men chose beer. As he delivered watched his hostess deliver the men's drinks, the bartender noticed the deep worry lines on the faces of each man. Being a bartender had taught him to read faces and the faces of these men showed not only worry, but fear. It was the same look most he'd noticed on the faces of all the men in Prairie View lately.


The two men ambled from the saloon, each wondering how to break the news to the rest of the wagon train that this town was short on water, too. This would make the last four towns they'd stopped in short of water.

"You're gonna tell 'em this time, Sam," Big Bill said. It was more like an order than a mere statement. It was only fair though, since Big Bill himself had broken the news in the previous towns.

The ladies, specifically Bettie Johansen, saw it first. It was the look in the mens' eyes that told the story.

"No water here, either, huh?" She already knew the answer. Bettie was wise for her twenty years.

Sam shook his head slowly. "Nope. No water here. No relief for the horses, either."

"Hell with the horses, what about us?" Chester Fitz grumbled. "If we don't get any water soon, it ain't gonna matter what happens to the horses."

"Three more miles to Anderson," Big Bill chimed in. Maybe there would be water there. Big Bill sure hoped so. Silently, he even found himself whispering a prayer that Anderson would have water.

"What if there ain't no water there, either?" Chester spat. "Then what?"

Sam sighed. "Chester, we'll find water. Your complaining is doing nothing but upsetting the ladies."

Chester mumbled something inaudibly and stomped off toward the wagon he shared with his two boys, Lester and Arnie,and their collie, Shep.

Bettie Johansen spoke next. "Do you really think there is water in Anderson, Sam?" The desperation in her voice was evident.

Sam shrugged. He didn't want to lie to her, but what else could he do? Even he, himself didn't think they would find water in the next town. But, as one of the caravan leaders, he couldn't let on.

"There's a good chance we'll find water there." He cursed himself for lying to her.

Bettie smiled, nodded and returned to her family's wagon.

Big Bill slapped Sam on his shoulder. "I hope we find that water, for your sake."

Sam frowned and followed Big Bill into the lead wagon. It was time to move on. Sam wondered if they would ever find water.


Almost an hour passed before the caravan reached Anderson. They'd been careful to leave after dark. The sun would be no problem then and the need for water would not be as dire. All the caravan's members, besides the drivers, slept. A peaceful, cloudless night settled in. The temperature dropped, but not enough to call it a comfortable night. It stayed hot and muggy. Except for the sounds of the wagon bumping along the ground beneath it, the night was almost completely silent. An eerie grayish moonlight seemed to guide the caravan.

Sam broke the silence. "How much longer can the horses go?"

Big Bill sighed. "Two, three days maybe. We're asking for it beyond that."

"Two or three days to find water." Sam shook his head. "Damn."

"Yep." That was the only word Big Bill found to say. "We're right outside of Anderson now. We can make camp here tonight and head into Anderson in the morning, which should be in just a couple hours."

Before Sam could answer, both men heard a young boy's voice shout out.

"There's somebody comin' to meet us."

Sam recognized the voice. "It's Tommy Matthews. What's he doing awake at this hour?"

Big Bill glanced off to his left, oblivious to Sam's words. There was, indeed, a single wagon headed in the direction of the caravan.

"Why would anybody be out here travelling alone in the dead of night?" Big Bill asked, to no one in particular.

No one answered.


As the caravan came to a slow halt, so did the lone wagon, just twenty feet away. The wagon was close enough for Big Bill to read the words on its side, though. 'Mermaid Water Services' was printed in huge, bold letters on the side of the wagon.

Big Bill looked over to Sam. "Travelling salesman, it looks like."

"What in Sam Hill's he doin' out here alone?"

Before Big Bill even answered, he released the reins and headed in the direction of the salesman's wagon. "Maybe we'll just ask him," Big Bill said over his shoulder.

With a sigh, Sam joined his partner in a trip to meet their unknown companions.

Halfway there, Sam and Big Bill were met by an older man who emerged from the sales wagon.

"How do, stranger?" the man asked, his hand extended for a shake.

Big Bill shook the man's hand. The stranger's grip was firm, yet cold.

Big Bill introduced himself and Sam, then turned his attention back toward the stranger. "You know how dangerous it is out here travelling alone?"

The stranger nodded and smiled. "Never had any trouble out here before."

Something about the man bothered Sam. "What's your name, Mister?"

The man's smile radiated outward, as if he expected the question. "I've been called many names by many different people, but you can call me, uhh, Mister Dark."

Sam shrugged. "You got a first name, Dark?"

Dark's smile never waned. "In my line of work, I got no use for a first name." There was a short pause, then he continued. "But you can call me Judah if you'd like."

Big Bill guffawed, but if it had any effect on Dark, he didn't acknowledge it. "I get that reaction from many people, but it doesn't bother me." Dark's smile grew even further. "That's why I prefer to be called Mister Dark."

As the men spoke, other caravan members gathered around. The priest, Father Mitchell made his way toward the speechmakers. As he approached, Dark's smile seemed to falter, but just for an instant.

"I'm Father Mitchell," the priest said, extending his hand. "I'm the clergy accompanying this group."

Dark chuckled, but didn't take the preacher's hand. "You'll excuse me, Father, but I really have no use for the holy book. Just a difference in perspective, you might say."

Father Mitchell retracted his hand. He'd met unbelievers before. "I'm sorry to hear that. Perhaps, in time, you'll come to see things differently."

Dark never lost his smile. "I really don't think so, Father."

"There's always hope," Mitchell replied, sinking back into the crowd with a wave of his hand.

Dark didn't answer, but his eyes never left the priest until Father Mitchell had disappeared back into a wagon.

Sam snapped the salesman out of it. "Where ya headed, Dark?"

Dark spread his arms wide. "Why, I go here, there and everywhere, my dear man."

Before Sam could reply, a woman stepped from behind Dark's wagon. The men instantly looked.

Dark took the cue. "Ahh, yes, gentlemen, this is my lovely partner, Desire. She is quite some comfort on these long trips."

Desire looked no more than half Dark's age. She could have passed for his daughter.

She didn't speak, but simply nodded her head, smiled and gave a slight wave to the onlookers.

"You got water in there, Mister?" a voice bellowed. The voice belonged to Chester Fitz.

"Great," Sam mumbled. "We don't need Chester getting us in bad with this man."

"If you got water, Mister, we want some." Tact wasn't in Chester's vocabulary.

His statements did create a stir within the group, though. If there was one thing the group wholeheartedly agreed upon, it was the need for water.

Dark waved off the comments. "Why, yes, it is true. I do have water and plenty of it."

Cheers and catcalls echoed through the crowd.

Dark continued. "And dear Desire and I have no problem sharing it."

More cheers.

Sam Reynolds cheered as well.

Then he noticed the brief, sinister look that flashed between Desire and Dark. It was a look that made Sam think somehow the entire caravan was in trouble.

When the crowd began to mill around the salesman's wagon, Dark waved them off, his smile never wavering. "Now, folks, there's plenty enough for everyone. No need to push and shove."

Big Bill and Sam managed to get the thirsty travelers back away from the wagon.

"Let's see this water you're carrying, Dark," Sam said hopefully.

"Why I thought you'd never ask, friend." With a step to his right, Dark stood near the end of his wagon and quickly lifted the sign covering it.

The travelling party stood, mouths agape at the sight of dozens of glass jugs, each apparently filled with water. A cold mist seeped from the jugs.

Sam licked his lips at the sight. Words weren't forming quickly enough in his brain.

"Well, Dark, uhh," he stammered. "I guess you were right."

Dark tipped his hat, saying nothing. Desire flashed her expensive smile.

"What are we waiting for?" Chester Fitz growled from the middle of the crowd. "We need water and he's got water. Problem solved." Chester strode menacingly toward the wagon.

Dark stretched his arms out, as if to intercept Chester. "Now. let's do this like gentlemen, shall we? I am a businessman, afterall."

Big Bill caught on quickly. "So what's your price, Dark?"

The salesman smiled, apparently expecting that question.

"Why don't we split up the product first, then discuss price later?" Dark asked.

Sam shrugged. "We can pay you later?"

Another smile from Dark. "Oh, yes. There's always time for payment later."

Bettie Johansen spoke up. "But, then, how do you know we'll pay you at all?"

Dark addressed her with a tip of his hat. "Oh, don't you worry none about that, young lady. I'm sure I'll get paid."

Desire whispered something into Dark's ear. It must have been funny, because they both laughed.

"Yes," Dark repeated, "Payment will be made."

Sam didn't know why, but something about Dark's tone told him there was a threat in that statement.


Cool Water- Part Two

Within minutes, the water was divided among the families, each family getting a ration depending on family size. Never before had Sam seen this group so happy.

"Water's nice and cold," Jim Simmons called from his wagon.

"Just the way it should be," Dark answered with a smile. "A good salesman always aims to please his customers." He nodded, always the showman.

"This guy's good," Big Bill commented between slugs of water. "This water's better than it is from the well. You oughta try some." He thrust a bottle in Sam's direction, but Sam waved it off.

"Not right now, Bill. Maybe later."

Big Bill shrugged. 'Suit yourself."

Sam looked at Dark. "How did you manage to keep the water so cold? It must be eighty degrees out here in daytime."

Dark fielded the question like a politician. "A good magician never reveals his secrets. And that, I'm afraid, is a professional secret."

Satisfied, Sam turned and walked back toward his fellow travelers.

Shortly, Desire joined Dark near their wagon.

"Is he going to be a problem?", she pondered aloud.

Dark sighed. "Maybe, but it doesn't matter. Our mission remains the same."

Desire laughed softly.

In his wagon, Father Mitchell watched the proceedings with growing anxiety. While it was good that God had blessed them with water, what were the odds of them finding it in the middle of nowhere?

Father Mitchell decided to find out. The best way to do that, he surmised, was to ask the man who had supplied the water.

The priest made his way through the crowd purposefully, oblivious to those in his path. He bumped more than a couple of unappreciative cowhands on his way to see the mysterious Mister Dark.

Mitchell found Dark and Desire beside their own wagon, speaking in low tones. Their conversation ended before Mitchell could hear anything they were saying. Somehow, the priest had the odd sensation that they knew he was coming and even anticipated his arrival.

"Well, preacher, what brings you back here? I trust you got a taste of the water." Dark's smile didn't waver this time.

"I thought we might talk, Dark." The priest ran his hands nervously over the worn Bible he always carried. Normally, it gave him courage. This time, though, he couldn't escape the chill he got in the presence of Dark and Desire.

"Well now, what might we have to talk about, preacher?" Dark asked.

"Uhh, well, it is, umm, a little strange." The words weren't coming easily for Father Mitchell. Never in his twenty six years in the priesthood had he had a feeling of unease like he had here.

"Strange?" Desire interjected. "How so, Father?"

"Well, I mean, you being out here in the middle of nowhere with water." After the words came out, Mitchell realized how foolish they sounded.

"What would we drink if not for water?" Dark asked.

Mitchell wished they'd quit asking him questions. Questions required answers and answering meant he would have to address them again.

"Well, uhh, it's just a little strange that we'd find you just when we were needing water."

Dark chuckled. "The Lord works in mysterious ways, preacher. Doesn't your book say that?" He pointed to the Bible in Mitchell's hands.

"Uhh, why, yes. I suppose he does." He clutched his Bible tighter.

Desire spoke up again. "Maybe you shouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth, preacher. Be thankful for this gift."

Mitchell nodded. "Maybe you're right."

"Anything else we can do for you, preacher?" Dark asked.

If there was, Mitchell wasn't about to admit it. "Uhh, no, I guess not. Thank you for your time."

Dark nodded. "Not a problem."

Desire flashed a toothy smile at the priest, who quickly made his way from their wagon back to his own. The farther away he got from Dark and his strange consort, the better he felt.

Father Mitchell noticed how much warmer he felt when he was outside their presence, too.


Part 3

Morning came none too quickly for Father Mitchell. Restless sleep marked his night. Strange images of Dark and his companion kept replaying in the priest's mind. The water had been a godsend, but somehow, Father Mitchell couldn't shake the feeling the travelers were in way over there heads with the mysterious Mister Dark.

The aromas of breakfast swirled around Big Bill as he bounded out of the lead wagon and toward the wagon bearing Bettie Johanssen. Bettie was single and Big Bill had been meaning to talk to her. This was his chance. He'd made it nearly halfway to her wagon when he heard a child scream from near the rear of the caravan.

The voice in agony was Chester Fitz' youngest son, Arnie. The child was crying and waving excitedly at something on the ground on the far side of the Fitz wagon.

"Dammit," Big Bill cursed, slamming his hat to the ground. He stomped off in the direction of Arnie Fitz. Sam joined him halfway there.

"What happened?" Sam asked, downing the last swig of coffee from his tin cup.

"Don't know," Big Bill replied. "I just heard the kid scream."

Chester Fitz could be heard alternately swearing and comforting his son.

Big Bill nearly tripped over something just around the corner of the Fitz wagon. He
looked down just in time to see it. The body of the Fitz boys' dog, Shep lay on its side. Sightless eyes gazed up at Big Bill and Chester, who were now joined by most
of the group.

"Sorry, son," Chester Fitz mumbled, placing his massive arms on Arnie's shoulders. "He was a good dog."

Word quickly spread around the wagon train. Shep had been with the group so long, it was like he really was a family member. Few in the train could remember a time without Shep.
It was Big Bill who passed the news on to Dark and his sultry companion.
"A shame," Dark commented, although the words seemed forced. "How's the boy doing?"
Big Bill shook his head slowly. "Takin' it hard. That dog was like a brother to him. We're gonna bury him and say a few words. It might help Arnie out a bit."
Dark grinned. "Prayers for a dog? Seems kinda silly doesn't it?"
Big Bill shrugged. "Maybe, but it's for Arnie's sake."
"Of course," Dark added.
Big Bill turned and left Dark's wagon, leaving the salesman and his companion alone.
"Praying for a dog. Pitiful," Dark muttered.
"If only they knew," Desire commented.
"In due time, my dear. In due time."