T H E C A M E L S' T A L E
A N o v e l
P u r e F i c t i o n
The Brevet Major did not recall how or when he became transparent, though he knew that a green eyed woman, tall and slender, was present at the time.
He did not at first notice the transparency of his men and camels. Only when he rested a hand on the bugle boy's shoulder did he become aware that although he sensed the worn cloth and the child's frail bones there was no substance there.
Then as he watched the camels drifting in the dusk, they seemed to fade and merge in light and shadow.
The Brevet Major knew that a coded heliograph message flashed from a hilltop gave the order to release the remaining camels. The Brevet major knew that he would not do this.
And in that wild country where Comanche warriors ruled, the camels left no footprint and the water they drank remained, and the plants they grazed on were untouched.
The Brevet major's men trapped and ate jack rabbits who then sprang away whole and free and the setting sun glowed through their tender ears. And neither camel nor man nor dog left turds to mark their passing.
As day and night flowed before and after them the quiet words of Al Katib and Sergeant Cassidy filled the ears of both men and camels. Stories of other places, other times wove into their minds.
The desert nights grew cold. The Brevet Major joined his men in sleeping close to the camels, and men and beasts breathed and belched and farted in warm unison.
***
After weeks of traveling the train approached the town of Tyson's Wells and Al Katib led the camels through an opening in the earth to a great chamber that extended far beyond the town. The chamber was vanishing high and long, used since forgotten times and the walls were covered with paintings of strange beasts and beings. In the great chamber the camels were serene.
***
The Brevet Major walked into the town and no one saw him. He picked up a ham at the General Merchandise and the ham remained on the counter as he walked away with it. The Brevet Major caressed a woman as he passed her and she did not flinch but brushed the thought away.
As he passed the Assay Office the green eyed woman, tall and slender, caught his eye and beckoned. The Brevet Major looked away.
Every day a child of four years sat at the General Merchandise door and when the Brevet Major saw her he would touch the warm silk of her hair and something unremembered sparked briefly in his mind.
Once as he reached out to the child he thought he heard a whisper: "I know you are here."
The Brevet Major would take his soiled clothes to the Chinese wash house and leave them in a pile on the counter.
One day as he picked up his clean clothes from the counter some words in Cantonese rose in his mind. The laundryman seemed to see him. "I know you are here."
Sergeant Cassidy and Al Katib agreed that there were those in the town who sensed their presence. What was to be done?
The Brevet Major walked in the town until he found the green eyed woman and he confronted her.
"What is it that you want?"
"You would not die," the green eyed woman said, "You would not die when the early blizzard engulfed you all out on the high plains. You, your men and camels and dogs you froze but you would not die. Your spirits all lived on. Your daughter calls another man father now. Give me your soul and I will return you to life but not your men, your camels or your dogs."
The Brevet Major turned away. He returned to the great cavern, to the soldiers, the camels and the dogs.
***
Sergeant Cassidy was lounging in the morning sunlight. A group of children passed him on their way to school. A tall girl in a ragged, unshaped dress and broken boots lingered behind the others. Her drab hair may never have seen a brush or comb. Her body was stick thin and straight. The merest suggestion of breasts showed against the murky cotton of her bodice. The sergeant allowed himself a lingering look and a slight leer. The girl stopped, turned and sent an arc of tobacco juice which landed on the toes of the sergeants boots. It took a few seconds for him to register that the girl must have been able to see him. She caught up with the other children and did not look back. The sergeant took out his bandana and wiped the spit from his boots.
"There are those that see us," the sergeant said to the Major. He pointed to his boots where the remains of the tobacco juice still showed. "See that? That's tobacco juice that the tall skinny girl with the tangled hair spat at me. She must have seen me to hit so neatly."
"Ah yes, the girl Primrose. More animal than human I suspect."
"But if she can see us others must have the same ability," the sergeant answered.
"Restore the shine to your boots." The Major replied. “It seems to me that this is as good a place as any to rest and recuperate. Our mission I think should be to do good. To be a credit to the community. We must comport ourselves with dignity and give no cause for fear. We invisibles engender fear among mortals it seems."
***
At the Sheriff's office an informal meeting was taking place. The Sheriff had his feet propped up on the desk so that all could plainly see a rag of filthy sock peering out from under the pointy toed upper of his right boot.
"Past fixing," he said. "Got to get me to Yuma and find me another pair."
"So what's the reason for this confabulation?" The assayer inquired.
"Well we've been hearing stuff and I myself have had a sensation......"
"A sensation?" The others allowed themselves a snigger .
"Yes indeed a sensation. A feeling that there are unseen beings among us."
Loud laughter. Somebody missed the spittoon with a blob of tubercular sputum. He looked thoughtfully at the blood flecks then turned away.
"Well all I can say is keep aware." The Sheriff said. "Tell me anything you witness that seems out of the ordinary."
The jailer, the doctor, the teacher and the two deputies, all feeling slightly uneasy, filed out into the cold sun. The assayer stayed behind. He looked at the Sheriff.
"I've had that feeling. I even thought I saw something. Not a man. Maybe a horse or maybe something like a camel."
"Aah!" Said the Sheriff. "Keep me informed. I suspect that mere mortals have a hand in whatever is going on. A hint to you sir. Be aware of suspect persons bringing in metal.”
There was fear in the town. A band of ruffians, some locals and some coming out of nowhere, were forcing lonely miners to hand over their claims. Sometimes they killed the miners, sometimes they didn't. The robbers sold the claims to a mining company in London. The company used employees from the Coopers and Coffin Makers Bank to perform their transactions. Sometimes the miners would band together to fight off the ruffians, but they were outnumbered.
The Sheriff laid low and said nothing. He no longer worried about unseen beings. He knew he could not fight the claim grabbers. All he could do was lie low and do nothing. If things got much worse he would try to get the Military involved.
"Call in Pinkerton," a deputy suggested. The Sheriff shrugged.
"That takes money," he said.
"There's trouble in the town," the Major said to Sergeant Cassidy. There's claim jumpers grabbing any little claim with the smallest promise to it. What can we do?"
The Sergeant looked at his boots.
"Well I don't know. There's something I can look into though. I think the girl Primrose may be able to hear me as well as see me. I could give it a try. We might be able to help through her, though I don't see how. And what about the green eyed woman?"
"She is the enemy," said the Major. "We must be very careful."
***
The Tyson Hotel was a two story structure built from adobe. The front entrance was almost imposing and the windows were hung with red plush curtains that were already faded.
The hotel was the place where prosperous salesmen stayed. A representative from the London mining company came through every month to buy from the independent miners. Those who did the dirty work, locating gold in the oven heat of summer and bitter cold of the short winter. Dying of thirst and hunger and broken bones in the harsh desert world, and so often finding nothing. In the past few months the representative sensed something different going on. A middle man had appeared. A man named Slight, or so it was said. People said he claimed to speak for the owners of several productive diggings, and they said he had the gold to prove it.
The mining company representative was named Cholmondely (Pronounced 'Chumley'). He smelled a rat. He paid a visit to the Sheriff.
"There's miners disappearing," the Sheriff said, "they could of left town. They could of died. My bet is they died and not by natural causes. Then Slight picks up the claim. Then there's others who say they never sold their claim to Slight, but he has people working it for him. They say Slight pays them. What can I say?"
"Gold is gold," said Cholmondely (pronounced Chumley). "If a man comes to me with gold to sell I have no way of knowing if he owns it. Frankly I don't care. The Company has no wish to be involved in Wild West Show histrionics." He offered the Sheriff a cigar and the Sheriff took a second one for his deputy.
***
Big Tom Goodwood rolled flatulently out of bed in a Denver brothel. He held a crumpled telegram in his hand. He blundered to the window to better see the words. Trouble among the gold miners in the southern Territories. What in hell was he supposed to do? The big mines down there were for copper, with good organizing potential, but the one man one burro operations out there in the desert were not worth his while. He'd tried to organize the cowboys once. A big defeat for him. Like trying to herd cats.
Tom sat on the edge of the bed with his face covered by his hands. He felt like shit. His sister in law entered the room.
"Tom are you feeling all right? You got a rally in Telluride today. Better get a move on." She brought coffee. Tom waved it away. He knew he wasn't going to Telluride. Something must be done, he thought, and he knew he was the only one who could do it. He had to dry out. A trip south away from temptations of the flesh might help. Probably not, but at least the booze and women wouldn't be as easily obtainable.
***
Sergeant Cassidy started hanging around town when the kids were on their way to and from school. He did not see the girl Primrose. Then one day he did see her stirring a cauldron full of linen out behind the hotel. She pounded the sheets and towels with a palo verde post and watched the fleas and bed bugs and cockroaches drown and boil in the filthy water. Every now and then she would hoist up a sheet or towel with her post and spread the grayish linen, un-rinsed, on rocks to dry in the sun.
"Hey girl!" The sergeant shouted. She did not turn her matted head.
"Hey girl! You hear me?"
"I hear you loud and clear. No need to shout."
"The Major wishes to talk with you."
"Then let him talk."
"Do you see the Major?"
"I see you all. And your camels. And your dogs."
"Do others see us?" The girl turned back to her work.
"Who knows?" She said.
"So we have no secrets?" The Brevet Major says to Primrose. She looks down the dusty street. The heat of the day is building.
"I can't hear you when I can't see you. You see me I see you. Keep your secrets if you got any. Sometimes I don’t see you anyway. Comes and goes it does. Sometimes"
"You know there is trouble in the town?"
"So they say."
"Would you be willing to help us restore the peace?"
"Why would I do that?"
"Because it is the right thing to do."
"Who says?"
"The Bible says."
"I don't do Bible whatever it is."
"Would you help us anyway?"
"What's in it for me?"
"Possibly some gold. You might get killed if people think you're up to something."
"That's a thought."
"I'll ask you again tomorrow," the Major says.
***
Wilkie Wilkie scraped the sweat off his face with the side of his hand. He coughed out some brown phlegm and rubbery saliva. He shook the last of the flour into his sourdough and set it aside. Time to go back to town almost empty handed. They had come in the night and looted his meager takings. They didn't kill him because they did not find him clinging to his burro in the desert dark. He saw them though, by the light of the fire. He recognized them. In the morning he would return to town and hopefully put together another grubstake. And maybe talk to the Sheriff. Maybe not.
He woke before light and threw half the sourdough onto rancid grease in the bottom of his cook pot. He lit a small fire and heated the pot until the dough was part burned and part raw. He gnawed on it as he and his starved and thirsty burro started back.
As he passed Clap Sally's shack at the edge of town he heard gunfire. More than usual. Six horsemen galloped past him. A shot screamed over his head. The Sheriff and a motley collection of citizens were following in pursuit. They slowed down with some relief and turned their horses back.
The Sheriff did not see the Brevet Major and his men and camels who followed the raiders' trail. They left no print.
When the Major could no longer discern any tracks on the gravel of a baked hard playa, Al Katib claimed to still see the path the gunmen took. He also saw that the camels' feet were cut and hurt by the sharp stones. He would go no further.
"They must be heading for the railroad," the Major said.
***
The Brevet Major was born and raised in the Quaker community of Salem, Iowa. It was his outrage at the existence of slavery in the United States that motivated him to join the Union Army. His sense of morality was deep and cold.
When he found himself looking at the girl Primrose with the same scarcely suppressed lust as the Sergeant and even the bugle boy he felt confused. She was a child wasn't she? Most of his interest was for her hair. How could a person have lived thirteen years without ever having anyone tend to her hair?
He found himself thinking in engineering terms. First dip the whole mess in kerosene? Or shear off the huge matted lumps that fell around her face and down her back? He decided it would be necessary to shave her head and then scrub her scalp with the corrosive laundry soap that she scraped into her cauldron. The girl would be bald for a while. Perhaps she wouldn't care.
But the matter never came up. The Major was too shy to mention it.
***
The Sheriff was reclining at his desk and paring his fingernails with a kitchen knife. The door burst open. A large bellied man in a shiny black suit stood before him.
"Sir, allow me to introduce myself. I am Tom Goodwood, I represent the American Mine Workers Union."
"Howdy," said the Sheriff, "how can I help you?"
"It has come to the attention of our office that miners in this area have been killed, robbed and victimized by an unscrupulous gang of ruffians in the pay of certain banks located beyond the jurisdiction of this nation. Sir, would this be an accurate depiction of the situation here at Tyson Wells?"
"That ain't what I heard," said the Sheriff. "There's stuff happening out there but I never heard nothing about banks and that. In addition to that sir you are in error as to the name of this town. It is now named Quartzsite due to a clerical error but nevertheless Quartzsite with a zee and an ess it is."
"My apologies," said Tom Goodwood. "I will make a note of it on my map. Nevertheless a situation exists that must be corrected. I hope I have your co-operation in this matter?"
"Well sir to be honest with you I must tell you that I have little faith in your organization. I would prefer to maintain a respectful distance from anything that you might attempt."
"I quite understand. I will of course expect you to supply me with information you might have that is part of the public record. I think you will find that is my right and your obligation."
"I will consult my attorney if necessary," the Sheriff answered. There might be a lawyer in Yuma but he certainly wouldn't think of going there.
"Thank you sir. We understand each other I think."
Tom Goodwood retired to his hotel room and called for hot water. None was forthcoming.
Wilkie Wilkie sat on the hotel steps. The burro was tethered in the shade. Wilkie was scrabbling in his pockets for a forgotten scrap of gold bearing quartz or an odd coin. Nothing. He scooped foul water from the horse trough with his hand and drank. When he'd rested a little he would go through the town looking for an odd job. He had lost self pity or any other emotion on his fifteenth birthday forty years ago. Now he just looked around to see what opportunity would present itself.
Tom Goodwood stepped out of the hotel and looked up and down the street. Nothing much moved. He looked down at the filthy ragged man on the step.
"Howdy," Tom said.
"Howdy," Wilkie answered.
Tom offered Wilkie a cigar. Wilkie took a bite out of it and started chewing. He did not say thank you.
"How's things going?" Tom asked.
"Not too good," said Wilkie.
"Problems?"
"You could say. Got my gold all stoled."
"Someone took your gold?" Tom brightened considerably .
"Sure enough. That make you happy does it?"
"Not at all, but I might be able to help you." Tom slipped Wilkie a handful of dollars to buy feed for
himself and his burro. Wilkie took the money wordlessly and limped down the dusty street.
Primrose was shaking out rugs in the hotel's back yard.
"'Morning my girl," said Wilkie.
"'Morning uncle. How you doing?"
"Got my gold stoled. What I dug the last couple months."
"Slight's boys?"
"I reckon. Didn't get a clear view. There's a union feller in town. Said he might help. Gave me cash to get supplies."
Primrose raked the ashes out from under the cauldron. She considered the wash water and wondered if it was about time to discard it. She ran up the back steps and called to the cook.
"You got any soup or anything to simmer? I got red ashes out here." Maggie the cook came out with an iron pot of beans. Maggie dressed as a man because she drove a freight wagon to Yuma and back every week. She got paid same as a man and no one complained. She set the three legged pot over the still glowing ash. If the beans were not cooked by lunch they'd get eaten anyway.
Primrose shouldered a couple of rugs and trudged back up the back steps.
***
Wilkie Wilkie led his burro up a dry wash bordered by palo verdes. He punched in a can of sardines and slurped out the juice. He pulled off his boots and massaged his right foot. Always a careful man, Slight's men did not get all his gold. Wilkie kept the higher value stuff in his boot. The sole of his foot was sore and smelled bad. He soaked his bandana in the kerosene he had bought and bandaged
his foot. He examined his little horde. One small nugget gleamed beautifully. The other stuff might have looked like gravel but Wilkie knew it would assay out at something once it was cooked down.
Trouble was he didn't want to go to the assay office in town.
Tom Goodwood was lingering over a cup of uniquely bad coffee in the hotel dining room. He was reading a week old edition of the Yuma Sentinel. Across the room Cholmondely gazed out the window at blowing dust. He was contemplating his return to San Francisco. The gold he had purchased from Slight’s men was already on its way, secreted in a freight wagon. Maggie was driving. He trusted Maggie. He paid her well. He got up from his table and approached Big Tom.
"Mr. Goodwood I believe?"
"Indeed."
"Trying to organize out here?"
"There's some you can't organize. Wild cards with crazy dreams and no sense. There's a lot of them out here. They go mad and die. No point in trying to organize them. They're being victimized though, from what I hear. I'm just taking a look at the situation."
"Your investigation happen to involve a man named Slight?"
"Sir I do not share information indiscriminately."
"I only ask sir as I have some concerns regarding Mr. Slight," said Cholmondely.
Tom put down his newspaper. "You represent the interests of Coopers and Coffin
Makers Bank of London? Is that not so?"
"I am proud to be an associate of Coopers and Coffin Makers."
"And I represent the working people of America. Perhaps we share a common enemy in Slight."
The two men took a stroll around the block, heads bent against the flying dust. They were attempting to converse over the sound of the wind. Miss Primrose, sweeping blowing embers back into the captivity of the laundry fire, strained her ears but heard nothing.
***
The Brevet Major was experiencing a panic attack.
He sat in the camel cave wondering how and why he had become unreal. After a few minutes he realized the pointlessness of such thoughts. He raised his head and saw the green eyed woman looking down on him.
"Why do you want my soul?" He asked.
"I deal in souls. The market is good right now for quality souls, especially on the London exchange."
"You use the telegraph?"
"Of course."
"If I telegraphed to my wife, would she receive the message?"
"I doubt it. You are not in the Realm of Real anymore."
"But you are not in the Realm of Real yourself so how can you do business on the London market?" The green eyed woman smiled. "Your mind has limitations," she said.
***
Wilkie Wilkie was making his way to the Assay Office in Yuma. He crossed Tyson Wash where he found an abandoned and broken dry washer machine. Wilkie Wilkie considered the apparatus. By working the bellows long and hard a person could shake down a hundred dollars a day of gold dust if the ground was right. Otherwise you wasted your time. Wilkie Wilkie regretfully left the contraption. Storm clouds were gathering to the south. He left the road to climb above a small arroyo that scored the slope of Dome Mountain. He knew of a small spring seep up there. He found the seep as the last light faded. He awoke in the night to the sound of water roaring down the arroyo. He led his burro further up the mountain and watched as the arroyo filled with flying water. By morning the flood had subsided. Wilkie Wilkie was at the edge of the small wash where the arroyo flattened away. He used a kind of crow bar to scuffle the dirt in search of nuggets. Plenty of water available to wash dirt in his wooden bowl.
By noon he believed that he might have made three hundred dollars. He knew that all over the area men, women and children would be mud wallowing for gold along the washes. And Slight's men would be watching.
He sat on a rock above the receding water in the arroyo and pondered his next move. When he saw the nugget caught momentarily in a riffle, he leapt like a giant frog and scooped it up before it could continue downstream into the hands of some other desperate being. He looked at the ridge above him and at the scrub land around him. He might have seen something move along the edge of a gravel playa but he wasn't certain.
He took a nonchalant bite from the cigar Tom Goodwood had given him. He chewed for a minute and then spat. The nugget was now out of sight. He loaded the burro and continued on to Yuma.
***
Tom Goodwood hired Maggie to take him to the Morse and Maddox copper mine at Bisbee. He had friends there. When Morse and Maddox discovered their workers' membership in the American Mine Workers Union, Pinkerton men were called in to put an end to the nonsense. Tom's intention had been to detonate a few Pinkertons (he himself far away at the time of course). He now changed
his mind. With Maggie as interpreter he recruited a hundred men and one or two women to march on Quartzsite and run Slight's men out of town. It would be a long hard march, and Slight's men would most likely attack them as they approached Quartzsite. Tom carried only a Cooper pocket revolver and some of the miners carried battered relics of other wars. They had little ammunition.
Wilkie Wilkie came across this army plodding round the base of the Divine Mountains. Wilkie recognized Tom.
"Can't help you," he said. "You going to get mutilated."
"We have blasting powder." Tom answered. "You know where you going to put it?" Wilkie led the miners to a great cave he knew a few miles from Quartzsite. Some of the miners were uneasy. They sensed a presence in the cave, and they smelled something that they did not recognize. The ghost camels clustered at the far end of the cave and looked on fearfully. Wilkie went on into Quartzsite to confer with his niece.
Miss Primrose had hacked off some off her tangled mats of hair and she had cleaned out her ears for the first time ever with a cotton rag and whiskey. She could hear a little better now. She didn't look any better. She went in search of Sergeant Cassidy who was at the bar drinking his dinner. The stool he occupied was also inhabited by one of Slight's men. They drank from the same glass and did not know it. Miss Primrose saw only Slight's man on the bar stool.
The Brevet Major felt a rush of joy. Action at last! The Ghost Camel Corps had a role to play. But what could they do? Their bullets left no mark. The booby traps they might set would not be there. All they could do was spy. It had never been possible for them to move around by trans-substantiation. They had always put in the long hard miles to get from one place to another. They had always needed to eat and drink even if the food and drink they consumed remained entire. But still, with Miss Primrose and Wilkie they could engineer the downfall of the Slights and the Pinkertons. Couldn't they?
The Brevet Major loved the idea of making an improvement to society. It made his life worth living.
Sergeant Cassidy did not see Miss Primrose at the hotel. He found her sweeping out the school house and singing a song about love and death. Her voice was rough but not unpleasing. Sergeant Cassidy took the broom from her and continued sweeping the packed dirt floor, but the dust stayed in place.
"Sorry,"he said. Primrose took the broom from him.
"I need your help," the Sergeant said.
"What's in it for me?"
"Nothing I know of. Just need your help."
"And?"
"We need to know where Slight's men can be found. Can I trust you?"
"You have no option."
"What do you mean by that?"
"Believe me. You have no option."
The Sergeant experienced a sense of foreboding.
"Then I am at your mercy," he said.
“I cannot help you,” she answered.
The Sergeant and the Brevet Major with Sid, the bugle boy, rode the periphery of the town. They took a camel and three dogs. They searched for tracks leaving town in many directions. When they found a place where hoof prints indicated much traffic they would direct the dogs to follow. They found small huddles of shacks and tents and sometimes underground shelters where the poorest and hungriest of dreamers clung to life.
At one jackal a small child pulled a shred of canvas around herself and appeared to see them. The ghost soldiers turned away fast.
As the sun slipped away they followed a last scent. There were no hoof marks in the hard gravel flat but the dogs insisted. There was no cover.
"Mark this place," the Brevet Major said, "mark it well. We will return at dark. We cannot risk Slight having in his band a being like that child. A being who sees us."
"No person sees me," said the bugle boy sadly, "I wish someone did."
Even before he became invisible Sid the bugle boy knew that other humans seemed to discount him. In any battle it was the bugler who was the chief target because the bugle calls directed the battle, but Sid had never come close to being shot. True, at four feet tall he was easy to miss.
Later that night Sergeant Cassidy and a single dog returned. It had been decided that the fewer there were the less likely they were to be seen. There were flaws in this logic, but you never know, do you?
The dog, a foxhound greyhound mix, led them unerringly to a collection of rubbish that may have been Slight's camp before the flash flood. Now it was a collection of ruined and worthless trash caught up in a cactus that was nestled close to a palo verde. The Sergeant wondered how the dog could have followed scent on the recently water soaked ground. It seemed to him that Slight's men could be close.
The night was not dark. The Sergeant shivered and wished he had his warm canvas jacket. He decided to hunker down and wait.
***
Slight's men began to show up around two a.m.
Using discretion rather than valor, Cassidy hobbled his horse and approached cautiously. One horseman actually rode through the Sergeant, his horse making an attempt to leap. The rider cursed and kept his seat.
Slight did not appear, but a spokesman did. He told the group that Cholmondely wanted more gold. The amount he was buying in Quartzsite wasn't worth the time and money it took to buy it. Coopers and Coffin Makers was becoming interested in copper rather than gold. Copper had many industrial uses. Gold was just a dream. Slight’s men would have to bring in more gold. The spokesman kept his face covered, though he was kidding himself if he thought he wasn't recognized.
"There aren't that many claims," someone spoke out of the dark.
"Look further, work longer." Slight's man said. He disappeared into the dark as quickly as he had appeared.
"There's a union man in town," said a voice. "We need a union. A bandit's Union. Who's for a union?"
"What in hell is a union?"
"It's getting together to stop bosses from bullying us."
"Hell with that. We're out of here. There's money to be had up in San Francisco. There's better games to play than this shit." The four Batty brothers turned their horses and were seen no more.
***
Tom Goodwood stood with the green eyed woman in a patch of sun outside the hotel. A cold wind made dust devils in the street. Tom was enchanted by the green eyed woman. He thought of his wife Arizona Jade who had lost her mind one winter in a snow bound mining camp in Colorado. For some reason the green eyed woman reminded Tom of Arizona Jade when she was well and happy and rode half broke horses astride and like the wind. Snow and childbirth had put an end to that. Now Arizona was kept by a sister and a daughter who took turns being her care giver. Tom reached a hammy hand to touch the green eyed woman's left breast. To his surprise she dematerialized and re-appeared a few feet further away from him.
"None of that Mister Goodwood if you please," she said.
"Please accept my most humble apologies. For a moment you reminded me of my dear but damaged wife. A thousand apologies."
"Don't overdo it. I get the message," said the green eyed woman. "We have business to discuss."
"Indeed."
"Your plan is to attempt to organize our independent prospectors I take it?"
"Madam these people are exploited. Their mule headed independence deprives them of the power that a union can produce for them. Please note I did not use the word 'give'. I appreciate that these people want to be 'given' nothing."
"How very kind of you. Such delicacy emanating from so large a man. Really quite commendable."
"Madam you make fun of me. As a boy working on a Nevada hay ranch I learned that all men deserve respect no matter what their markings. And women too of course. Sometimes my natural appetites interfere with my better judgement regarding women."
"Indeed. Now what is it you want?"
"I suspect you are aware that my intention is to organize a branch of the American Miner's Union here in Quartzsite. A battalion of members from Bisbee will be here in a few days. It is my hope that they will be welcome. I believe you could be instrumental in this enterprise".
"To be practical, Mister Goodwood, this so called battalion will require food and shelter. A boon to the merchants of the town. It would behove you to procure sufficient food and drink by sending Maggie and another wagon to Yuma immediately. I have heard that a large shipment of bacon and Jamaica rum is off-loading today or tomorrow."
"I will have to secure a line of credit. The Bisbee miners will of course pay for what they consume." "Will not your union reimburse them? They will be losing work by coming here."
"I'm hoping for a hundred," said Tom, "but as you say there may be problems. It is sad, madam, that money so often calls all shots."
The green eyed woman smiled. "You would like to borrow money? That can be arranged. Ten percent interest would be acceptable to you?"
"Madam I have few options. I will of course sell the supplies to the hotel and other establishments at a small profit to myself, and they of course will benefit."
"How pleasant," said the green eyed woman, "we will all benefit at the expense of the Bisbee miners who could lose their jobs or at least a week of work and may return much poorer than when they came. Perhaps some will lose their lives. They will be most unwelcome to some here you know."
The green eyed woman faded away almost imperceptibly .
Tom found himself in the company of Wilkie Wilkie. For a reason that Tom could not understand Wilkie looked a little sinister. Perhaps it was the odd swagger to his walk that he had been cultivating. It certainly wasn't his haircut or his clothing.
"You got any more of them cigars?" Wilkie asked.
"Unfortunately not."
Wilkie Wilkie giggled to himself and walked on. He had a new claim on Dome Mountain and ten thousand dollars against his heart.
Tom did not think much about Wilkie. He was thinking about the way that the green eyed woman's slender waist gradually curved into smooth round hips. They seemed to move subtly independent from the rest of her body. He sighed and lit up his second from last cigar.
***
In the camel cave Sergeant Cassidy found a newborn Bactrian, lusty and like to live. The baby suckled noisily and the Sergeant sat down beside mother and child and wept loud for the camels so far from home and for his own lost self in the American wilderness. He sprang up instantly when Miss Primrose touched the back of his sun wrinkled neck.
"Get the hell out of here!" He screamed at her. "Calm yourself Sergeant. I mean no harm."
"You are not what you seem. Stay away from me."
"But none of us are. Even you. Why do you weep?"
"None of your damn business. Get the hell away from me. You drag me into the darkness. I can take no more." Miss Primrose pulled him gently close and softened her body against his. Half in sleep he pulled up her ragged dress to find no underwear. Her characteristic odor of unwashed body seemed to change to the scent of winter violets back home in County Clare. She moved tenderly to welcome him. He woke alone, curled against the soft warm fur of the new born camel. A dream, he thought. A good dream. He needed that.
***
The Sheriff had a list. He wrote with a pencil along the margin of an old newspaper because it was all he could find to write on. After much thought he came up with six names. Six men he could deputize if and when the Bisbee miners showed up in town. Six men who were relatively cool headed, at least when sober. The Sheriff was hoping that the Bisbee contingent would be picked off by Slight's men. His fear was that the local prospectors and miners would come to town and join a riot with the Bisbee people. There was always the possibility that the Pinkertons might join the fray, but Pinkertons tended to stay away from mob violence. They preferred more subtle methods. With Tom Goodwood at their head the miners and prospectors might create a lot of publicity that could spread far what with the damned telegraph. He would barricade the telegraph office if necessary.
"Trouble sir?" Cholmondely stood in the door looking somewhat disheveled. He had just returned from the Mexican copper mines.
"Could be."
"Would it change the situation if I told you that I am relinquishing any interest Coopers and Coffin Makers may have in gold from these small miners?"
"It might."
"Unfortunately I am not quite ready to do that. Despite the collapse of the La Luz mining district my experts tell me there remains a decided possibility that a major vein of gold could exist in the area."
"And would it interest you to know that it has come to my attention that your life is in immediate danger?"
"Exactly," Cholmondely said with a slight smile.
"In the event of trouble might I deputize you? I hear you have much experience in India."
"Alas I have only a Derringer."
"Then good luck," said the Sheriff.
Cholmondely decided to remain in the hotel, as far
from any window as possible, and await the stage for Yuma.
The Brevet Major and the green eyed woman sat by the fireplace in the hotel lobby.
"If you took my soul you say I could return to my family. Without a soul how could I exist?"
Oh quite easily. You would simply lack a soul. Sympathy. Empathy. Any sensitivity to the souls of others. It is really quite freeing. No more guilt. No compunctions. Of course someone would kill you within a few years. You would be deemed too callous to live. However your body would get a few more years alive. You would see your daughter grow to adulthood. Not that you would care."
The green eyed woman was now peering over Tom Goodwood's shoulder. She was not visible to him and he had seated himself on the same chair. Tom was striking up a conversation with Cholmondely who was sitting on the sofa next to The Brevet Major.
"So you are leaving sir?" Tom asked. Tom was experiencing a rather odd feeling. He couldn't identify it. Perhaps lust. But for whom? Certainly not Cholmondely. The green eyed woman winked at the Brevet Major. How disgusting, she said. She removed herself from Tom and the chair and stood close to the fire place.
"We must talk," she said to the Brevet Major.
"We must talk," said Tom to Cholmondely.
"Let us find a more secluded place," said the green eyed woman. Suddenly Tom Goodwood felt much more normal.
He gathered his thoughts for a few seconds and then said "Mister Cholmondely, I believe we may share some interests."
The Brevet Major and the green eyed woman had retired to the empty dining room.
"It seems that Slight's men are planning an ambush on the Bisbee people."
"And the Sheriff says he has heard that the Bisbee miners plan to kill poor Cholmondely."
"Which most certainly could cause an international incident. Cholmondely is evidently a dear friend of the Prime Minister."
"So where is Tom Goodwood in all of this?"
The green-eyed woman smiled. "We should return to the lobby. God knows what his plans are. I believe I will become visible in a few minutes. You must excuse me."
"Who are you? What are you?" The Brevet Major asked as the hair on the back of his neck stirred. "Are you ghost or human?"
"Your question is simplistic sir. You must excuse me for a moment." She slipped into the ladies' cloak room.
The Brevet Major did not see her leave.
***
Cholmondely sat with his back to the wall and facing
the window. Tom noted his anxiety and allowed himself a sneer .
"The West must seem wild indeed to you."
"Indeed. I find that vigilance pays."
"But will not save you."
"That is in the hands of the Lord."
"Who exists only in your mind. Therefore you look to yourself only."
"You are a philosopher I take it?"
"My university was the school of life sir."
"A self made man."
Goodwood took a Mexican cigar from his waistcoat pocket. "The Bisbee men should arrive tomorrow. They have apparently been joined by workers from across the line. They bring dynamite and have plans to use it."
"Ah." Cholmondely wondered if the stage would leave on time.
The Brevet Major heard it all. He went in search of Sergeant Cassidy and Primrose. Primrose was filling the horse trough outside the Sheriff’'s Office.
"Miss Primrose can you see me? Can you hear me?" It seemed that she couldn't. He rode on to the camel cave and found the Sergeant waxing his boots with tallow. "Sergeant you are needed. A contingent of armed miners and ruffians from Bisbee are approaching. They have dynamite and trouble in mind. Miss Primrose cannot perceive me today. You must tell her to warn the Sheriff. She is outside his office or was a few minutes ago."
The Sergeant yawned, harnessed a camel and rode after Primrose. He found her sitting at the Sheriff's desk. She had her feet on the desk. One boot was a boy's lace up, the other a button boot with the high heel broken off. Both were for the left foot. She was drinking the dregs from a bottle of whiskey.
"You need me Sergeant?"
"I need you to find the Sheriff and tell him that an army of miners are converging on Quartzsite. They come to kill Slight's men. They have dynamite."
"What possible use is the dynamite?" Said Primrose, "Slight will round them up and blow them to kingdom come with their own dynamite."
"Be that as it may you need to tell the Sheriff."
"I am quite sure that he already knows. Cholmondely should be told. He may be harmless but the Bisbee people won't know that. He should be on the Yuma stage this afternoon."
"Then warn him."
Cholmondely was still in the hotel lobby. He did not see the skivvy who was polishing the reception counter. Such persons came and went without notice to the Coopers and Coffin Makers man.
"You must be on the Yuma stage today."
"My dear child what possible reason do you have to speak to me?"
"Listen to me or not that's not my concern. I am telling you to be on that stage."
"My dear child that is my intention. Please go away ."
He did not see her leave.
***
Cholmondely found himself squashed between two
large women from Australia. They smelled of laundry soap and cow shit. One of them turned to him, her face close, her breath smelling of alcohol and Parma violets.
"Men sit outside." Her accent was Lithuanian, Cholmondely guessed.
"I fear for my life. Please accept my presence." Across the coach an ancient cleric nodded and smiled.
Deaf. Two children stared at him. "Fear for your life? You bring trouble to us,” a child
said.
Revolvers appeared from the ladies' skirt side pockets. "We will protect you." One said. Her eyes gleamed and her trigger finger twitched.
"The driver is well armed I assume." said Cholmondely . The road was rough the night was long. The passengers rocked and jolted in unison. A child slept with his mouth open, drooling on the old cleric's black cape. The other child was a snail shell curled tight into a corner. The cleric smiled expressionless into the night.
The two immigrant ladies snored and groaned and shifted about in their sleep. Cholmondely felt the fear in his throat. They would not get to Yuma without incident. Of this he was certain.
***
The stage driver had a gun against his side. It felt hard as a stitch. He had been told by Miss Primrose to take the Ehrenburg road and cross the Colorado there and then head south to Yuma. It was Wilkie Wilkie who held the gun. Wilkie realized that the stage was taking a peculiar route to Yuma but he had no time to find out why. A few miles from Yuma Wilkie jumped from the stage.
"Just keep driving. No games!" He shouted at the driver as he flung his case off before jumping. He continued behind the stage to Yuma. The case dragged him down. A couple of times he had to rest. He sat low on the ground, his head turning sharply in all directions like some wary wild creature's. He had to hurry. He had to catch Cholmondely before he boarded the ship.
Cholmondely arranged to have his valise transported to the Arabella, the vessel that would take him to San Francisco where he would board ship for the journey round the Horn to Gravesend. When he saw Wilkie Wilkie he half recognized him.
"But my dear sir, I carry no gold. My transactions are always on paper. If I agreed to buy your gold, which I cannot do because I need an extensive evaluation of whatever it is you have in that case, I would have to telegraph our bank in San Francisco to authorize the purchase. Really this is quite irregular. Our purchases are always expedited by Slight We find him quite trustworthy. My dear sir, I never see the gold."
Wilkie had dealt with Slight's men before. They paid far below the going price. They had looted his claim. They had the assayer in their pay. Once Slight's men had not paid him at all. Instead they had struck him on the head and left him lying in the middle of the street. No one would touch him until they were certain that Slight's men had left the area.
Wilkie had hoped that he could establish business with Coopers and Coffin Makers through Cholmondely. The gold vein he found was more than he could handle. If he sold his gold in Yuma word would get to Slights men. Even in San Francisco word could get to them. His only option was the Sierra gold fields. Perhaps Slight's men had no reach to Bodie or Hangtown. Wilkie Wilkie thought about the vein he'd found deep in an abandoned La Luz working. He hoped he had left no clue to his activities there. Then it occurred to him that he didn't really care.
He thought of the union rabble he'd led to the cave. They and their horses seemed uneasy there and chose to sleep outside.
They would be in Quartzsite by now. Perhaps he would join them.
***
Safe in his state room on the Arabella, Cholmondely worried that perhaps he had missed a valuable opportunity. Perhaps Coopers and Coffin Makers would have been interested in purchasing Wilkie Wilkie's gold. Certainly he seemed to have found a considerable source.
Cholmondely had been relegated to the remoter districts of the American West because of a handful of unfortunate errors in judgement he had made.
South Africa was his home. The place he wanted to be. The only place worse than the American West was Australia. He would go back to selling homes in the growing London suburbs before he would go to Australia.
Coopers and Coffin Makers were losing interest in gold. Gaining an interest in copper mines was now their intention. Copper was such a sensible metal. Cholmondely had no access to the great families who now controlled much of the copper. They all lived in Boston or New York. Few had ever seen the West. He'd made forays into the copper districts and let his interest be known, but he was out of his depth and he knew it. What was one to do?
He joined the Captain’s table for dinner and cigars.
As Cholmondely was finishing his port, Slight's men were milling about in confusion on the Yuma road. They were at La Llorena Well where a pair of angry passengers waited in vain for the stage. Slight's men's horses had been restive for the whole trip. They shied and side stepped for no reason. The men themselves were uneasy. The world seemed wrong, puzzling. Sergeant Cassidy and Al Katib, both mounted on camels, led their herd randomly among Slight’s horsemen. Even the Bactrian and her baby were there. When Slight’s men realized that they had been hoodwinked in some way they turned back for Quartzsite cursing and grumbling to each other.
"We must return to our cave. The camels should go no further. They are unused to such treks." Said Al Katib.
"I think our work here is done." Cassidy answered, “the stage must be safely near Yuma by now on the Ehrenburg road”
Tom Goodwood sat his horse well. Once he had been a cowboy, but he preferred herding humans to cattle. He rode out to the cave with the dirty ragged girl running beside him. For all her broken, mismatched boots and scrawny body she kept up with him and showed him the way. He was disappointed to find a mere handful of miners sitting in the sun cleaning their guns. He did not see any local prospectors except the man who ate the cigar Tom had given him.
"Where can we confront Slight's men?" Tom asked Wilkie Wilkie.
"Where ever's you looks you'll see one." Wilkie said.
"Then we will march into town to inspire the people to turn against their exploiters"
Wilkie Wilkie wondered if that was a particularly good idea, but Tom had come all the way from Denver and would not leave without making some sort of impact.
"Tell me sir," said Tom, "do you have any experience with dynamite?"
"I've done a little blasting in my time."
"And would you happen to know the abode of Mister Slight?"
"Slight has no abode that anyone knows of. Most peoples never seen him."
"Do you know his habits? Where he might be found?"
"Can't help you." Said Wilkie. "Was you thinking of blowing him up?"
"Only if the opportunity offered itself. It seems Mister Slight stays in deep cover."
"Well sir there's them that think he don't exist. It'd be like blowing up a ghost."
"I see," said Tom and offered a cigar to Wilkie.
"I have my own thank you sir." Wilkie took a fine fat Cuban from a silver case in his pocket and bit off the end. Tom Goodwood looked at Wilkie a little more carefully. Something had changed.
Deep in the cave the Brevet Major watched and waited for the Sergeant and Al Katib to return.
***
Tom gathered the Bisbee people around him and gave a splendid speech. Slight’s men, back from their unsuccessful foray on the road to Yuma, watched from the periphery. The miners felt much more secure now that Tom was with them. They raised a few tattered union banners. Tom realized for the first time that many of the miners had come all the way from Bisbee on foot. This strengthened his resolve to make a mark. To start some changes.
Primrose stood before him. One eye looking straight at him, the other turned slightly south.
"You want to find Slight you need to follow the green eyed woman."
"And where will I find this green eyed woman?"
"You sat on her lap at the hotel though you did not seem to know it. You might find her there. Look carefully and you are more likely to see her."
Tom was a man who liked things cut and dried. The child was fantasizing clearly.
"Go away ragamuffin," he said.
***
The Brevet Major watched the tatterdemalion army
march away. A terrible sadness filled him. "Why is life so cruel?" He asked Sergeant Cassidy. "Wouldn't be no fun if it wasn't." Said the Sergeant. "We will follow them."
Only Al Katib stayed to tend the tired camels. All the ghost soldiers saddled up. Sid the bugle boy and Sergeant Cassidy slipped ahead to see what they could see. The ladies of the town peeped from drawn curtains. A mob of locals and miners crowded the street from the hotel to the Sheriff's office. The Sheriff was nowhere to be seen.
As Tom Goodwood stood before them. He slipped a horehound drop into his mouth and tried to coat his throat before addressing them.
"Let's drink!" He shouted. Slight's men were silenced by surprise.
"Let's drink!" The Bisbee men shouted.
"Let's drink!" Slight's men responded.
"The American Miners Union will pay for all!" Tom proclaimed to the terrified barkeepers.
***
Only part of the town burned. No one owned to the bomb explosion that started the fire at the assay office. A flash flood came roaring down Tyson Wash at about dark and bucket brigades and the fire pump had access to plenty of water. Most of the hotel was saved and both barrooms.
Muddy water poured down the streets and a couple of Slight's men drowned in either water or their own vomit. Tom Goodwood organized a formidable bucket brigade while Wilkie Wilkie was able to slip into the bank vault and help himself to quite a lot of money. Sometimes his run of luck humbled him. Why me Lord? He asked. He would start an orphanage. Yes. Then he realized that the vault had locked behind him. Perhaps he would be roasted. Perhaps they would find him alive, caught in the act. He lit a match and saw the manager's black fustian work coat hanging by the door. A key was chained in a pocket. The key to the vault.
Laden down with gold and paper Wilkie Wilkie freed himself and rushed to join the bucket line.
The Brevet Major's bucket brigade worked tirelessly until all danger was past and the clean-up had begun. The ghost soldiers dumped hundreds of gallons of water on the fire and had even plunged into the inferno to rescue small children and kittens. Their water made no difference to the fire and the children and kittens seemed unaware that invisible beings had rescued them. They believed that they
had saved themselves and perhaps they did. The green eyed woman was nowhere to be seen. Tom
Goodwood searched the town. Did he really sit on her? He had no dealings to speak of with women since he left his sister in law's bed in Denver. He wondered if he really needed to find Slight. Was the gold under the ground in this god forsaken place worth any investment of either time or money? The mines in the Sierra and further north were turning to hydraulic mining now to wash the ore out. Fine for them with plenty of water. He should be working with the copper miners. They were employees, not wild eyed crazies working on their own. Still the wild eyed crazies were victimized by Slight and his ilk. They needed a union too, but really they were not worth his time.
Most of the big copper mines were in Mexico. He would have to approach them with caution.
In the meantime he was looking for Slight and the green eyed woman and wondering who in hell she was.
***
Miss Primrose was hard at work in the hotel barroom.
The bar had come round the horn decades ago. It had been transported to La Luz when it was Mexico and when the town failed it had made the painful trek to Quartzsite, then named Tyson Wells. In all its long journey the back mirror had survived. But now the mirror was cracked and discolored. Primrose was on her hands and knees behind the bar picking up mirror fragments with the forlorn hope that she could piece them together and glue them back in place.
Tom Goodwood surveyed the scene in the barroom and leaned over to investigate a scrabbling sound. The rather unsavory girl was on her hands and knees carefully picking up glass fragments. Women! Tom thought. Women should be unionized too. Something to think about. He had just received a telegram from his wife Idaho Rose saying that she had hired a faith healer who promised great things. He answered somewhat harshly that he was not made of money. Where would Idaho Rose be today were it not for him? Begging in the streets or more likely in some pauper’s grave. He remembered carrying her in his arms across the Nevada desert for twenty miles to soak her in a sulfur spring believed by Indians to have curative powers. All to no effect. Idaho Rose lived in pain, Tom was quite aware of that, but damn it was hard on a man to live with such a wife.
“You’re wasting your time,” he said to the scrofulous child behind the bar. “You would be better off removing the mess and pulling out all the remaining glass. It should be possible to order a new mirror from San Francisco.”
“Shame on you sir! She is just a child. Kindly allow her to work without harassment!”
The green eyed woman, tall and slender was glaring at him from across the room.
“Madam I assure you my intentions were entirely honorable. I was simply instructing the child on the best way to go about her work. The mirror is clearly beyond repair and yet she insists in picking up the shards.”
“She is a frugal child. If we repair it temporarily the customers will have a reminder of what took place here. Your generosity I believe sir was the main cause of the disaster.”
“My intention was to free this town of the rapscallions who have a corner on the gold market here and cheat the miners of half the value of their gold. It is a deplorable situation and should be righted.”
“Slight’s men have families and homes here. They spend money and in many ways contribute to the community .”
“Are you suggesting madam that they are in need of a union to represent them?”
“It had occurred to me Mr Goodwood.”
“But madam they are bandits!”
“And you sir with your affirmation of the pledge to overthrow our elected government by any means necessary, you are not a bandit?”
“My aim is to make America or at least the United States of America a place where all people share the benefits of the state.”
“And do not Slight’s men find their living standards raised, their children fed and educated as well as most Americans, does this not constitute an equal share?”
“No madam it does not. The rich suck the cream from the milk of commerce and live like royalty in palatial mansions and have more money than they and their descendants can ever need.”
“But without the rich who would employ the poor?”
“The workers would own the means for production.”
“You confuse me sir. I think your brain is addled. Excuse me. I have work to do.”
“Excuse me madam. If you are the green eyed woman I am seeking perhaps you could guide me to Mister Slight? I would very much like to speak with him.”
"Quite impossible."
"I have been told that Mister Slight does not exist. Have you heard such a thing?"
"Certainly I have, and that is Mister Slight's wish."
"If Mister Slight exists then I should be able to request an interview with him."
"I will discuss the matter no further Mister Goodwood. Good day.”
***
Miss Primrose was shoveling horse shit from the street. She loaded it into a push cart and dumped it behind the livery stable at the edge of town. The livery stable paid her a nickel a push cart full and sold it to farmers along the river for five dollars a wagon load. Miss Primrose hoped to buy a new pair of boots when she had shoveled up one hundred loads of shit. She had forty seven loads to go according to the marks she made on the livery barn wall.
Sergeant Cassidy was watching her and wishing that he could help. He could load shit all day and it never showed up in Miss Primrose's cart. The Sergeant sang an old Irish lament about harps and minstrel boys. Primrose started to sing along. Her voice was harsh and surprisingly low for a girl her size. The Sergeant had an idea.
"Can you read?" He asked Primrose.
"Sort of."
"Can you write?"
"Sort of."
"Want to learn to play the piano?"
"You want to teach me? And to sing?" Primrose allowed herself a smile. She knew the Sergeant well enough to allow him to see her black and broken teeth.
***
The Brevet Major found Al Katib weeping among the camels. The Bactrian's baby was not thriving. "They want to go home." Said Al Katib.
"And you?" Asked the Brevet Major, "Do you wish to go home?"
"There is no home," said Al Katib.
"There is no home," the Brevet Major agreed. "We are lost, all of us. Lost. There is nothing we can do." He added his sobs to Al Katib's.
Sid the bugle boy placed the back of his hand against the Major's tear wet cheek.
"It doesn't matter. Nothing matters." The bugle boy said.
The Major awoke to loud shouting in the cave.
"Gold!"
The Brevet Major had been aware that some of the soldiers were hunting for gold in their abundant spare time. It seemed a harmless occupation.
But now the bugle boy was holding an enormous nugget of the beautiful metal.
A fortune for us all someone said.
"You are aware of course that when you take the gold to town no one will see it. No one sees us. No one will see the gold. A few beings of questionable reality may see what we have found. That could cause problems. We must think."
"There’s much more where this came from," said the bugle boy. "It came from the old La Luz workings. Someone had been digging there and covered up his work, but we saw didn't we? The two Private Duggans nodded their heads in unison.
"There's a seam of gold seven feet deep there!"
"Someone has a right to it. Someone has a claim."
"Those claims were all vacated long ago," said Sergeant Cassidy, “someone was just digging there on spec. Like us."
"If we had an agent, a representative who could purchase and sign contracts for us we could exist among the real. We could own houses and employ servants......" Sergeant Cassidy broke off in mid dream. Would he really be happier? People were looking at him. His friendship with Miss Primrose was known to all. What better representative? The Brevet Major voiced the obvious. "But she is just a
child."
***
“Things have changed,” the Brevet Major said.
He found the green eyed woman having her hair curled in Madame Marguerite’s salon. The room reeked of French perfume and burning hair.
“I will be free for lunch. Would you join me then?”
“Certainly madam. At noon?”
“Certainly sir.”
They dined in a private room. The Major selected morsels from the lady’s plate. So embarrassing to order a steak, eat it, and find it still entire and steaming on the plate, his chair unoccupied.
“We have found gold. A seam seven feet deep. There seems no end to it.”
“And?”
“Madam this presents a problem. We can mine the gold but it remains in the ground. We cannot sell it. We cannot file a claim when the papers on which we write remain blank. We need a representative from the realm of reality. Our thoughts have turned to Miss Primrose.”
“But she is just a child!”
“Yes. She is not of age to sign a contract or make a claim although I suspect that such obstacles could be leapt in a single bound in this community.”
“Be silent, Brevet Major. There are things you do not know. Of course you will remember the offer that I made to you? You chose not to sell your soul. I on the other hand sold mine. When my body was murdered by my husband who I had cuckolded a dozen or so times, I became both soulless and dead. In this condition I survive as both human and ghost. Although I most commonly inhabit a tangible form, I sometimes disappear and this is not something that I can control. I have to be very careful. Unlike you I may sometimes transmigrate, as when I found you nearly frozen on the high plains. This also is a phenomenon that I cannot completely control.” The green eyed woman sighed a little.
The Brevet Major was surprised to see Miss Primrose appear beside her.
“Perhaps Major, you have not observed the similarity between Miss Primrose and me? We are in fact simply aspects of a single self.”
“How on earth could this be?” The Brevet Major wanted to vomit.
“My dear sir, how could you possibly have believed that all aspects of myself could inhabit the same body?”
“And Slight. You are Slight too?”
“You are mistaken there sir, Slight is a full human with both a body and a soul.”
“So if I had traded you my soul and resumed my life and then died, I would be like you?”
“Possibly. One never knows, does one?”
“I would be trading souls on the London exchange?”
“Perhaps.”
“Then it is possible that you could become our representative to buy and sell and sign contracts?
“I believe not, sir.”
“Would you tell me why?”
“Because sir I am an employee of Mister Slight. Yes indeed a mere mortal is my master. Love, sir, love. I am a victim of love.
“And Miss Primrose?”
“She is my wiser self. I am surprised you did not see that. Allow me to suggest the man Wilkie Wilkie to be your representative? He is completely untrustworthy but he has an interest in your find. If you maintain absolute vigilance I believe it could be a mutually beneficial relationship. I believe that Wilkie Wilkie may be a worthy opponent to Mister Slight who seeks more challenge in his life.
“Too difficult, madam. We are all so tired. Mister Wilkie Wilkie is I believe now well qualified to challenge Mister Slight in the realm of reality. He does not need us. The camels are tired. It is my belief that all of us seek oblivion. The perfect peace of nothingness. We are all exhausted. The dogs are weary of this half life too. I will return to the cave and discuss your proposal with my men, then we will all sleep on it. Good night, madam.”
But the green eyed woman was nowhere to be seen.
***
The wind came up that night. Such a wind no one could remember. It sucked up horses and buildings and palo verde trees, roots flying.
It sucked up the Camel corps in its entirety. Sucked them right out of their cave. They all whirled away, the Brevet Major, his men, dogs and camels surrendering to the wind and dark. Sid the bugle boy played a sad military air as they all began to fade. All but the little Bactrian camel who staggered into town the following morning and was adopted by Miss Primrose.
Oh yes. Sergeant Cassidy escaped the wind in Wilkie Wilkie’s mine, waiting out the storm.
***
End
66
No comments:
Post a Comment