Soul Catcher (39 page)

^{Strofe and his brother agreed to play as well. Dr. Chimbarazo proved to be a skillful player of the game of poker, one who, Cain could tell, was used to parting hayseeds and hawbucks and untutored farm boys from their money. Cain did take note, however, that when the crookback grew unsettled about a situation, he would suck on his lower lip like a babe. Still, by the end of the evening the crookback had skunked them; he'd won a large pile of gold and silver coins.}

^{"Hell, I'm out," Strofe said.}

^{"Me, too," added Preacher, eyeing Dr. Chimbarazo. Later, Cain would hear him grumbling about that "cheating little nigger," but other than that, he didn't do anything.}

^{"How about you, sir?" the man said to Cain.}

^{Cain had been sitting there going it strong with the laudanum and was feeling no pain. He knew better than to get into a game of cards with such a fellow as the crookback without a clear head.}

^{"Thank you. No," Cain said.}

^{Every once in a while the crookback would glance over at Rosetta, who sat manacled to a tree near Henry. He'd lick his lips greedily, the way a man dying of thirst would on seeing a glass of water just out of reach.}

^{In the morning as they saddled up, Dr. Chimbarazo took Cain aside. "May I have a word with you, sir?" he said.}

^{Cain and the crookback walked over to the far side of the caravan. The man reached into his coat pocket and offered Cain a cigar, which he declined. He smiled up at him and stroked his goatee pensively. Only then did Cain realize that the white teeth were fashioned from ivory.}

^{"My last assistant deserted me some time ago. Ran off with a cooper who came to one of our shows. Belinda May was the creature's name. She was in all respects quite unsuited to the demands of being my assistant. Dumb as a rock. However, she was a sweet young thing who drew customers like moths to a flame. Besides which, Belinda May made up for her lack of native intelligence by being skilled in ways especially useful to a bachelor on the road for long periods of time."}

^{He offered Cain a conspiratorial smile at this.}

^{"What does all this have to do with me?" Cain asked brusquely.}

^{"Of course, more matter and less art," the man said. "Well, since she left I have been quite busy bringing relief to the suffering and hope to the hopeless, and have not had the opportunity to enlist the services of another assistant. I wonder if I might purchase your enchanting Negress there," he said with a nod toward Rosetta.}

^{"She's not mine to sell."}

^{"I assure you I would be willing to pay her owner more than a fair price for such a fine specimen."}

^{"I said, she's not for sale."}

^{"Very well, then," the crookback said, nodding pensively. "Perhaps, sir, we might still work something out that would be to the advantage of both of us."}

^{"What are you talking about?"}

^{"As you can imagine, it gets rather lonely traversing the countryside, and I have had only myself to relieve my masculine needs, which are, despite my stature, quite formidable," he said. "I have not had the pleasure of a female's company in nearly two months' time. To put the matter bluntly, sir, I am in desperate need to fornicate."}

^{Cain looked at the man and frowned.}

^{"I would like to rent the services of the wench."}

^{"Rent her?"}

^{"I would, of course, be willing to pay you handsomely," he said as he removed his billfold. "You could pocket the proceeds, and no one would be the wiser. We would both be well pleased with the arrangement. Shall we say ten dollars for an hour's service?"}

^{Cain turned and started to walk away, but the man hobbled after him and grabbed his coat sleeve.}

^{"Fair enough," Dr. Chimbarazo said. "Let us say twenty-five then."}

^{Cain turned on the little man savagely. "What do you take me for?"}

^{"Come, come, my good fellow," the crookback offered with a laugh. "You are, after all, a slave catcher."}

^{"I'm not some damn pimp," Cain said, yanking his sleeve away from the man's grasp and once again starting to walk away. However, the little man was, if nothing else, persistent. He hurried after Cain, caught him just as he was about to round the caravan.}

^{"I can see that I've offended you. My sincerest apologies. It's just that I've never found myself so smitten by the fairer sex. I'll go you fifty dollars, sir. Besides, she will get as good as she gives, I assure you. Any woman who lies with Dr. Chimbarazo is not left unsatisfied. That comes with a money-back guarantee, as well."}

^{The man thought this last comment funny and chuckled, his mouth all gleaming white teeth.}

^{Cain suddenly lost his temper. He grabbed the small man by the throat, hoisted him into the air, and slammed him hard against the caravan. The crookback tried to wriggle out of his grasp but Cain held him firmly pinned there. The small man reached for his pepperbox, but Cain easily twisted it out of his hand and swatted him across the face with it. His broad gambler's hat was knocked to the ground. Cain squeezed the man's scrawny neck until his eyes bulged and his lids fluttered rapidly, and he appeared on the verge of passing out. Relenting finally, Cain relaxed his grip a bit so the man could breathe.}

^{"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't thrash you all hollow," he said.}

^{"Please, don't," Dr. Chimbarazo pleaded in a raspy voice. "I have a sick old mother depending on me at home."}

^{"I thought you said she was dead?" Cain replied.}

^{"She's near on to death," the man pleaded. "Could pass at any moment." He went on to explain that if anything were to happen to him it would certainly be the end of her. Though he knew it to be a cock-and-bull story, Cain nonetheless let the man drop to the ground. He fell to his knees, hacking and coughing, fighting for breath. Cain bent and picked up his hat and shoved it onto his large head. Grasping him by the collar, he escorted the man roughly to the front of the caravan and said, "Get your ass going before I change my mind." The crookback hurriedly climbed up into the seat of the caravan. He took hold of the reins but turned toward Cain and asked, "May I have my gun back, sir?"}

^{"Consider yourself lucky to leave with your life. Gitup!" Cain said as he slapped the horse's rump.}

^{The caravan started off down the road in the opposite direction. Cain looked at the ugly-looking pepperbox in his hand, its six stubby barrels like a nightmare of Vulcan's. He was going to heave it into the woods. He'd never liked that sort of gun. For a small thing it was unwieldy, and with all those barrels it misfired as often as not. And you couldn't hit a bull in the ass if you were holding on to its tail. Still, he thought better of it and decided to shove it into his boot.}

^{Chapter 13.}

^{W
hen they crossed the Mason-Dixon line into Maryland, Preacher took off his derby and waved it about. "Hell's bells," he cried. "We's back home, boys." Then he stood in his stirrups, pulled down his trousers, and, aiming his fish-belly-white rear end toward the north, farted loudly. This proved a bad omen.}

^{Shortly after this, Preacher's horse threw a shoe and he had to double up with Strofe until they could find a livery. After that, Strofe was hit with a new wave of stomach cramps that made him groan in pain. Then they passed a farm whose house and barn had recently burned to the ground, leaving its dozen sooty-faced inhabitants to camp under a chestnut tree, in the branches of which a hoot owl sat plain as day, going
whooo . . . whooo.
Little Strofe said everyone knew that sighting a hooty owl in broad daylight was a sure sign of bad luck. He took some salt from his saddlebags and tossed it over his left shoulder, but it wasn't enough to prevent the omen from working itself out. What had been a clear, pleasant day soon clouded over. The skies mushroomed with a greasy blackness tinged with gold and green, and there hung in the air the hard smell of axle grease and burnt hair, and before anyone could say "Catch a weasel asleep," it began to rain. Heavy drops exploded when they struck stone or earth, stinging when they met with flesh.}

^{The April rain continued unabated for several days, a cold, leaden downpour of apocalyptic proportions. It flooded rivers and creek beds, hollers and low-lying fields, washing away the newly planted crops. The swollen rivers flowed over their banks and scooped up all manner of things: trees and fence posts, chicken coops and corncribs, and even the occasional cabin, and sent everything careening downriver in a churning brown stew. They saw the dead and bloated bodies of horses and pigs and cattle being swept along. In one flooded river just east of Hagerstown, they saw floating along a small log cabin, on the roof of which lay a red-haired woman buck naked. She looked like some damsel out of a fairy tale, waiting for the kiss of a lover.}

^{"Damn. Looky, there," cried Preacher. "If only I could swim."}

^{She didn't move, not even when they called to her, and no one knew if she was dead or alive. On the same river they saw just the steeple of a church, with the bell still in it and clanging away, as if calling people to service. The rain turned the hilly back roads of the Maryland panhandle into treacherous quagmires where the horses lost their footing, slipping and sliding as they plodded along. Once, as they were descending a steep hill into a valley of small farms, Strofe's Percheron, a clumsy animal under the best of conditions, tripped and fell headlong down the incline, pitching Strofe into the muck. Even with their oilskins on, the damp leached into the bones of the six riders, and neither fire nor whiskey nor exertion could drive it out. Cain feared he would never be warm again.}

^{"Ain't felt my feets since Harrisburg," lamented Henry, who sat shivering on the back of Little Strofe's mule.}

^{"Hit's the end of the world," Little Strofe said.}

^{"You speak da trufe. Ain't never seed such a low-down, mean- spirited rain."}

^{"Wouldn't s'prise me one b-bit to see old Noah hisself come sailing by in his ark."}

^{The one good thing--Cain knew it would make Brown's following their trail nearly impossible.}

^{The horses and the mule plodded dumbly along, no doubt wondering at their masters' lack of sense to be out in such conditions. Little Strofe's remaining dog, Louella, trotted along with her thin, lizard head hung wretchedly between its shoulder blades. It was hard to tell whether she was more affected by the loss of her companion or by the sheer inhospitality of the weather.}

^{They were forced, finally, to seek shelter at an inn. The owner, of course, wouldn't take in Negroes, so he put all of them up in the barn out behind the inn. Built in the Dutch manner, the barn proved to be quite comfortable, tight and dry, with piles of hay to sleep on and the yeasty smell of grain mingling with the sweet pong of cow manure. All in all, it suited them just fine. Not only did they appreciate getting out of the cold rain, but they also savored the respite from the daily grind of travel, giving their backsides a much-needed rest from the pounding of the saddle twelve hours a day for all those weeks. They spent the next three days mending harnesses and repairing boots, sewing clothing, drying out and oiling saddles, reloading firearms, washing clothes, shaving, even trimming their hair and beards. With some lye soap, Rosetta washed in the horse trough and then set about braiding her hair. While oiling his gun, Cain watched her unawares. She happened to look up and catch him, and he pretended sudden interest in his revolver.}

^{Henry, who'd worked in the tannery on Eberly's plantation, knew his way around shoes and boots, and with some nails and a hammer he scrounged up from the barn, he set to work repairing the footwear of those who'd worn holes in their boots. They all enjoyed the break, all, that is, save Preacher, who grumbled about wanting to get back to Richmond, since he was, as he put it, "randy as a old tomcat." He couldn't wait to spend his share of the reward money getting good and corned, and seeing a certain whore by the name of Sweet Nance. Little Strofe, still troubled by the disappearance of his dog, occupied himself by playing his Jew's harp. He would sit there alternately playing and then petting his one remaining dog and staring glumly out into the rain, wondering what had happened to Skunk. The ointment Cain had put on Henry's wrists had seemed to work; the wounds from the shackles were almost healed. Strofe had less success with his purchase. Dr. Delacroix's Sagwa tonic didn't help him a whit, and, if anything, seemed to aggravate his intestinal troubles. The flux had him running to the outhouse out in back of the barn every ten minutes.}