Blackfeather
11 Guns and Ammo
PA SURPRISED US by stopping at the gun shop on Second Avenue before we took Aubrey home.
“You’re hanging around these ranch kids more and more, Aubrey,” Mom Ash said. “You ought to get a look at what they’re looking at.”
“Are we getting guns?” Kyle asked.
“Ramie’s interested in some reproductions, but it’s a good idea for you to have good side-arms when you are out running around the ranch. We’ve been hearing more reports of wolves in the lower hills lately and you might not have time to reach your rifles,” Pa said.
Kurt at the gun shop showed us a bunch of good handguns and Pa made Kyle and me pick out a good sidearm. He told Aubrey to pick one out, too, and he’d keep it up at the ranch for when she visited. She was a little shy of them but once Kurt took us out to his shooting range and she fired off a few rounds, she got a little more enthusiastic. We all walked off with Remington Model 1911s.
But I really wanted to look at Kurt’s classic revolvers. I pointed out the one I wanted to look at. I was sure it was almost like the ones I took off the dead kidnappers and strapped to Miranda’s hips.
“That’s an 1851 Colt Navy reproduction,” Kurt said. “Most everything about it is like the originals. It’s a single action, six-shot revolver. The only difference is that this one takes cartridges and the original was a percussion gun. You had to stuff the cap, powder, and ball into it with this tamping rod built onto the barrel.”
“How do you do that?”
“Well, it’s a simple process but it takes a little getting used to. Let me see what I’ve got here.” He turned and opened a gun safe behind the counter. I was sure he knew exactly what he had. Kurt was like that. He laid a gun almost identical to the reproduction on the felt cloth. “This is a restoration. A few years ago—well, back in the 70s—they tore out the interior of the last brothel in Laramie. That’s where Lovejoy’s is now. It’s on the historic register and I was on the crew that was assessing the reconstruction. We came across this gun jammed into the paneling and I bought it. Wasn’t much. Took me ten years to restore it.”
“Pa, I want this gun,” I said. There wasn’t any question in my mind. I’m sure every Colt Navy felt exactly the same, but damn it! I’d held this one in my hands before. I knew it.
“Whoa! Nobody said it was for sale,” Kurt said. “Course, I’d trade it for your Pa’s Smith & Wessons. That would be even.”
“No!” I answered before Pa could say anything. “Those guns belong at the ranch. If you won’t sell it to me, at least teach me how it loads and fires. Will you do that, Kurt?” He chewed on the inside of his lip.
“How many times a week are you meeting with Merv Longsteer?” Kurt asked me. I looked at Pa quickly and saw his mouth twitch.
“Two… Twice a week. Lunch on Monday and Wednesday,” I said. Apparently, Pa already knew I was leaving school in the middle of the day to go visit Merv. I was coming along with my knife skills and I was damned glad of it.
“I’ve got an after-school job for you if you want it. Tuesday and Thursday afternoon. Still get you home in time for dinner. If your brother and his girlfriend want to work, there’s enough for the three of you.”
I dreamed about the gun that night. Kurt showed me the rudiments of loading the Colt Navy. I kept going over every step in my mind. I was asleep long before Kyle and Aubrey were finished. I had visions of Miranda in my brain and cool air from my open window whipped me away. There was that old raven sitting there and calling me.
Awkawkawkawk!
I couldn’t breathe. It was dark and skinny hard fingers gripped my throat. The bony hand of death had me in his grip. I could see a deeper darkness settling in. I swung my arm with all my force at the monster killing me.
I hit her with the barrel of the Colt in my hand. Hit her hard. She fell off of me and I rolled away coughing and trying to stand up to breathe. I swung the Colt around frantically, looking for a target. There were stars in my eyes but I was beginning to see shapes. Two of them were huddled by the wagon. The other lay sprawled on the ground at my feet. I kicked her in the shoulder and she rolled over moaning.
Well, at least I didn’t kill the little bitch.
“Demon Ramie, you saved me. I thought you’d abandoned me.”
Miranda, I’m not…
“I know. I’m sorry. What should I call you? You are so powerful and you can take over my body.”
I’m not trying to take over your body, Miranda. She was killing us.
“Yes. Thank you. I…”
Could you just call me Ramie? Or if you have to, friend?
“Friend Ramie. You are my friend, aren’t you?”
I’ve been worried sick about you. Are you okay? How long have I been gone?
“You have been gone only a day, but I feel so empty when you are not with me. We are all… frightened. Harriet has been frantic. She sometimes strikes the other girls without provocation. And now this.”
You’re going to be bruised.
“It is painful, but I am alive, thanks to you.”
The girl, Harriet moaned and one of the other girls silently brought water to her. She looked cautiously at me the whole time but carefully helped Harriet drink. I realized I was still holding the Colt in my hand. I didn’t really want to let go of it but resolutely shoved it in the holster. I left my hand there, but relinquished control of Miranda’s body to her.
I’m sorry I took control without your permission.
“Must I forgive you for saving my life? It shocks me, but I cannot object. It is such a strange feeling to not have control over my own body.”
Let’s see if we can get some answers from this bitch.
Harriet was staring at us. Snarling like a wolf.
“Why did you try to kill me,” Miranda demanded. “I have been only kind to you.”
“Witch! You summon demons to do your bidding. Unholy abomination.” I guess that summed up her feelings pretty well.
Bet she’s from Massachusetts. Don’t say that!
“You cannot travel with us if I cannot trust you,” Miranda’s voice rasped. It hurt to speak. “That goes for you two, as well. I am going to St. Louis. I am taking that wagon and horses. If that is not where you wish to go, leave with her in the morning.”
We sat the rest of the night against a tree near the horses. She slept, but I stayed awake. It was odd. I couldn’t see anything because Miranda’s eyes were closed. But I could hear the girls settle down and their breathing even out. I could feel the cold brass of the Colt beneath my fingers. Extending just those senses, I could tell exactly where everyone in the camp was.
It was a long night.
I heard Harriet get up before dawn. Miranda was asleep but I could still manipulate her body—still hear clearly where the girl was. I drew the Colt and held it in my lap following the movement of her steps. Soon, after a quick whisper to one of the other girls—Katie?—she slipped away and I heard her ill-concealed steps as she crashed away from camp and faded into the woods. I opened one eye and Miranda began to stir in the back of my consciousness.
My throat hurt. I lifted my chin to swallow and groaned. Katie was up out of her blanket and scampering to me with a canteen. Beulah rolled over and continued to sleep. The girl held the canteen to my lips.
“Poisoned?” I croaked. She looked truly horrified as she shook her head. Lighten up, kid. It was a joke. I gulped at the water. Every swallow hurt. I hoped the bitch hadn’t done any long term damage to Miranda’s windpipe or vocal cords. I could live without ever feeling that again.
“Must we get up? I am so tired,” Miranda moaned in our minds.
I don’t feel comfortable with that girl wandering around in the woods. We are nowhere near far enough away yet.
“Where are we going?”
Where do you want to go, Miranda? Your stepfather sold you for his gambling debt. Do you really want to chase after him?
“He owes me. He could do the same thing to Theresa. I can’t let that happen. I have to get to her.”
I’ve been studying maps. There are no bridges across the Mississippi south of St. Louis. We’ll have to head straight north as much as possible and sort of follow the flood plains through Kentucky. We still have to get across either the Mississippi west or the Ohio north. It’s 300 miles as the crow flies, so we can count on twice that with horses and a wagon. Let’s move.
Katie was good with the horses. She’d been raised as a servant in Philadelphia. Her father was the coachman for a rich family. The war, however, had ruined her life. Her father had left to fight and the rest of the family was deemed too expensive to keep by the rich folks. The long story made short was that her own mother had sold her to kidnappers with her knowledge. She knew she was going to become a prostitute and was responsible for her own life.
Beulah was a sullen girl who made no secret of her desire to return to her life in Athens, Ohio. She was convinced that she’d simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time. She planned to go home.
I let Katie drive the wagon, giving her the general direction to find a path north while she chattered away. I carefully examined the two Colts as we rode. They were in reasonably good condition. I wanted to get them cleaned as soon as it was possible and to teach Miranda all about how to use them. We were cooperating on the use of her body. I merely gave her instructions on what to do to examine the guns and check the firing mechanism. In the typical fashion, there was one empty chamber in each revolver with the hammer locked over it. I expected Miranda to be skittish over having the six-shooters strapped to her but I was in for another surprise.
“My hands have killed three men with a knife,” she informed me silently. “How much harder can it be to kill a man with a gun?”
I’m so sorry, Miranda. I used you to kill those men.
“You might be able to claim that for two of them. I was the one that sliced the third’s throat to your protests. I may as well burn in hell for three as for one.”
Don’t lose yourself, Miranda. You were not born to be a killer. God willing, there will never be another.
“I take a strange comfort in you, Demon Ramie. Even you pray to God.”
Well, I ain’t very religious but I won’t deny He exists.
We traveled for four days west sticking to wagon tracks that showed minimal traffic. I figured eventually we’d hit the Mississippi and turn north to the Ohio. There was sure to be a ferry there. What we encountered was a small village. It couldn’t really even be called that. There was a building with a buckboard at a hitching post and a couple shacks that didn’t look lived in. As we approached, two men came out of the building, one with a sack over his shoulder that he dumped in the buckboard. The two men stopped and waited for us to approach.
“We need supplies,” Miranda said to Katie. “Let me talk to them. Be ready to get away.”
Katie assented and Beulah stayed mostly hidden in the back of the wagon.
“G’moro. And what have we here?” the taller of the men asked in a thick Irish accent. He wore an apron so it was safe to assume he was the shopkeeper. I let Miranda handle the negotiation while I kept a hand near the guns.
“Refugees from the ravages,” Miranda said. “Our farm was burnt. My sisters and I have little and have decided to take it northward. We need supplies.”
“It’s a bad time to head north,” the other man said. “God’s vengeance on the Yanks is snow.”
“I reckon we have little choice in the matter,” Miranda said.
“Well, come in, young miss. Ye might be wha’ we’re needin’ here. Let’s do some bartering. Sam’el, you be gone now,” the shopkeeper said. The other man chuckled and mounted his buckboard.
“Whichever one you choose, bring ’er out fer dinner with the missus and me,” he called.
Miranda, be careful with this man. You’ll be bedded before the night is over.
We went into the shop. It was pretty modest by the standard of what Mister Jonathan had in his shop, but it was clean. Katie stayed on the buckboard, but I was surprised that Beulah jumped down and followed me.
“Now, you are not from Mississippi and you are not sisters,” the man said. He introduced himself simply as John. “Why are three frightened girls alone on this road? I could see into your wagon and you haven’t even enough supplies to be refugees. What happened to you?”
“We were kidnapped and were being transported to Texas to become whores,” Beulah blurted out. “We got the best of our kidnappers and are trying to get back home.”
“Got the best of them, did you? Where are the bodies?”
“A week east of here,” Miranda said. “Off the road with one of the girls who had already died. Hidden, but if anyone looks, they’ll be found.”
“And that’s where you got the guns you are toting,” he nodded.
“My ‘sister’ is formidable,” Beulah said with a touch of admiration in her voice. “I, on the other hand, need a man by my side.”
What the fuck?
“Well, now, you see, I knew we could do some bartering,” John laughed.
Beulah took me completely by surprise. Until this time, she’d struck me as a sullen girl who just wanted to get home. She’d opened up a bit over the past four days and finally confessed that she didn’t like her home all that much but had no alternatives. Apparently, she found one.
John had been widowed the past year and was definitely looking. Willingness was more important than either beauty or brains so he had no difficulty in courting Beulah instead of Katie or Miranda. The deal we all struck was to live in the store—little more than a trading post—while John courted Beulah over the winter. His own farmhouse was located a mile away but there was a room in the store where we could stay and we would handle customers and trading if he was not there. Once Miranda revealed that she had been a shopkeeper in Baltimore and was intending to set up shop in Omaha, John almost changed his attentions to her. Miranda did not have to repel his advances. Beulah stepped between them at every opportunity. The girl was determined.
As we huddled together on a straw bed that night, Beulah turned on Miranda.
“I will keep your secrets, witch,” she said. “I bear you no ill will and thank you for your rescue of us. But if you step between John and me, I will kill you.”
“Beulah, I do not plan to be here longer than it takes the snow to melt in the spring. By that time, I hope you are wedded, bedded, and pregnant. That is a blessing on you, by the way, not a curse,” Miranda said.
“How about you, Katie?” Beulah demanded.
“I expect I will part my legs for some man—or many men. But for now, I cast my lot with Miranda. If you will have me, demon mistress, I will serve you,” the young girl said.
“Let us not talk of servitude,” Miranda said. “Nor of parting your legs for many men. I will rejoice in your company when we move onward.”
In the darkness of midnight with both girls sleeping, I arose and stepped outside. It was a still crisp night. Winter seemed far away but there were mountains between me and our destination. I knew that staying put was wise.
“Are you leaving me, Demon Ramie?”
I’m not a… Never mind.
“Friend Ramie?”
Friend Miranda. I can almost feel it. I’ve only an inkling of what draws me out of my body and into yours. I thought it was sex but the raven calls at any time.
“The raven.”
I believe so. My pa said a redtail hawk would call him out of his body. Somehow it never occurred to me that a raven might call me from mine.
“‘Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary, Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore—’” Miranda recited.
‘While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping, As of someone gently rapping,’ I added in her mind. Everyone had to memorize “The Raven” in eighth grade.
“‘Rapping at my chamber door.’” We saw a shadow cross the moon above us. “Hurry back to me, Friend Ramie.”
Awkawkawkawk!
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