The Gentleman Outlaw and Me-Eli (5 page)

"Don't you believe him, Eli," Miss Pearl called from the kitchen.

The Gentleman Outlaw spun around to face her.
"Why, Pearl, the next time you see me, I'll be riding a fine horse and wearing a proper gentleman's clothing."

"I won't hold my breath," said Miss Pearl. "And, Eli, you better not hold yours either. Calvin's a fine one for promising the moon and coming up with a handful of dust."

As Calvin headed for the door, I followed close at his heels. Like Miss Pearl, I knew better than to believe in promises. I wasn't planning to let Calvin Featherbone out of my sight. Not while he had my money.

H
OURS LATER, CALVIN AND I WERE BUMPING
along a dusty road in Miss Pearl's buggy. Just before we left her place, she'd had a softening of the heart. We could borrow the buggy and Fancy as long as we promised to leave them at a certain livery stable in Dodge City. The owner would be happy to drive them back to her, Miss Pearl said, flashing those gold teeth one last time.

When I'd asked Calvin why we couldn't get on the train in Elms Bluff, he'd said he had too many enemies in these parts, including the sheriff. They'd be sure to watch for him at the depot. That was why we were skedaddling under cover of darkness, like true wanted men.

As we passed through woods and fields, I could scarcely believe I was traveling with a genuine outlaw. Train robberies, bank holdups, shoot-outs with sheriffs, wild Indians—why, there was just no telling what dangers lay ahead for Calvin and me.

Even Caesar seemed to sense something exciting was about to begin. He lunged around in the back of the buggy, sniffing the night air and barking every now and again as if he could barely wait to get wherever it was we were going.

I nudged Calvin. "Can I have a name like yours?"

"Surely you don't want to change
Bates
to
Featherbone.
"

"No," I said, giggling at the idea of having a name as silly as Featherbone. "I'm talking about an outlaw name. You know what I mean—the sort you see on wanted posters."

Calvin chuckled. "Why, you can give yourself any sobriquet you like, Eli."

Sobriquet
—I mouthed the word silently, enjoying its sound. To Calvin I said, "My sobriquet is Kid Bates. If we hold up any banks, that's what I want you to call me."

Calvin nodded. "The Gentleman Outlaw and his accomplice, Kid Bates. Yes, that will do nicely."

"We might rob a bank or hold up a train," I said, "but we won't kill anyone."

"Not unless we have to," Calvin agreed.

"And we'll share our loot with the poor unfortunates of this world," I added.

Calvin sighed. "I doubt we'll meet anyone more poor and unfortunate than ourselves."

I studied his face to see if he was pulling my leg, but his features were hard to read. "The James brothers always gave to the needy," I reminded him. "I
heard they once saved a widow's farm by paying off her mortgage."

Calvin nodded. "I've heard that story," he said. "Frank and Jesse held up the bank the very next day and stole the money back."

'Yes, but the widow kept her farm."

Calvin had no more to say on the subject, so we rode along for a while without talking. The moon came with us, turning the dusty road to a chalky white barred with black shadows. On either side, the woods were dark and still. There wasn't a house in sight nor any sign of a human being. Frogs peeped and thrummed. The wind whispered in the leaves, and an owl hooted. It was a lonely place.

Calvin slowed the horse and peered into the shadows ahead. "It was in a spot like this that Roscoe and his boys ambushed me," he muttered.

I shivered and drew a little closer to him. "What did you do to make those men hate you so?"

"Quite simply, I won their money in a game of cards. Poor losers, that's what they were."

"Miss Nellie told me you cheated Roscoe. She begged you not to, but you wouldn't listen to her."

"Nell said I cheated?" Calvin turned up his nose. "The very idea. I merely used a few tricks my father taught me."

"But aren't tricks the same as cheating?"

"Certainly not," Calvin said. "My father was a man among men. He didn't need to cheat to win."

Without looking at me again, Calvin flicked the
reins to remind Fancy she was supposed to be pulling the buggy, not eating honeysuckle, and we moved on, bouncing and swaying over the ruts in the road. Lulled by the rocking motion, I fell asleep with my head resting on Calvin's shoulder.

***

When I woke up, the sun was just starting to creep above the horizon. Calvin estimated we'd put twenty miles between us and Elms Bluff, but it was at least another day's ride to Dodge City. Turning Fancy off the road, he found a nice stopping place in a grove of trees.

'You and Caesar slept for hours," he said, "but poor old Fancy and I have been awake all night."

We ate the food Miss Nellie had packed for us, and then Calvin lay down in the buggy and fell fast asleep, leaving me to entertain myself with my own thoughts, which tended to center around my future exploits as Kid Bates.

After a while, I got out my harmonica and went through my repertoire, which consisted of songs like "The Old Folks at Home," "Jeannie with the Light Brown Hair," and "Home Sweet Home." They were mostly sad and mournful tunes, the kind that sound best on a harmonica, which makes music just about as lonesome as a train whistle late at night and far away.

While I played, Caesar lay at my feet. Sometimes
he accompanied me with a soft whimpery howl, but for the most part he was content to look pitiful and sigh now and then in a melancholy way.

When I stopped to get a drink of water, I saw Calvin sitting up in the buggy, watching me. I started to apologize, thinking he was mad because I'd waked him, but he jumped down from the seat in good spirits and slapped me on the back.

"That was fine playing, Eli," he said. 'You and that wretched dog could wring tears out of the hardest heart—and silver as well."

I looked at him. "What do you mean?"

"We'll go into the next town and pick a nice spot where you can play your harmonica," he said. "If we're fortunate, passersby will take pity on you, a poor orphan boy."

"Are you asking me to stand on a corner and beg?" I felt my face heat up like my brain was about to explode. "There's no way on God's green earth I'll do something that shameful!"

Calvin's good-natured grin disappeared as if somebody had wiped it off with a rag. "We have twenty dollars to our name," he said. "How far do you suppose that will get us?"

I didn't rightly know, so I didn't answer. Nor did I look into those blue eyes of his. I just stood there, scuffing at the dust with the toe of my old boot.

"Are you going to allow pride to stand between you and finding your father?"

Calvin's voice had softened a bit, but I wasn't
about to surrender without a fight. "Why can't we hold up a bank or a train instead? We'd get us a sight more money."

"Must I remind you again? I have neither a gun nor the money to purchase one."

"That wouldn't stop a man like your father," I said. "He wouldn't make a kid beg for him. No, sir, he'd find some other way to get money."

For a moment I thought Calvin was going to haul off and hit me, but he controlled his temper. Turning his back, he climbed onto the buggy seat, clucked to Fancy, and asked me if I was coming or not.

I scrambled up beside him. "Since you have my twenty dollars," I muttered, "it seems I got no choice."

"Smart boy," said Calvin, showing off a set of teeth Doc Holliday would have been pleased to see if he decided to take up dentistry again.

And that was that. As usual, Calvin had gotten his way. Off we went, with Caesar trailing behind, leaving his mark on as much of Kansas as he could.

I
N THE AFTERNOON WE CAME TO A GOOD-SIZED
town with wide, dusty streets. It boasted a new church, a schoolhouse, a handsome bank, a goodly number of business establishments, and a fine selection of homes, some more respectable than others. The wood sidewalks were crowded with folks going about their Saturday shopping, and the streets were full of horses and wagons.

Calvin picked a nice shady spot across from the bank. "Lay your hat on the ground," he said, "and play soft and sweet, Eli. Look as sad and lonesome as you can. If folks ask, tell them you're a poor orphan child with no one to love or cherish you."

Calvin paused to study Caesar who lay beside me, his head on my shoe, his eyes as sorrowful as a hungry dog's can be.

"Perfect," he said. "Some folks will feel sorry for you, but others will pity Caesar. Frankly, if given a
choice, many people would rather see a human die than an animal."

With that, Calvin walked off and left me. He had business of his own to tend to, he said.

I watched him disappear, sidestepping piles of horse dung in the street as dainty as a fancy dancer. Then I raised my harmonica to my lips and began to play "Home Sweet Home." It wasn't hard to act the part of a lone, lorn orphan. In fact, I just had to be myself.

Before long, a pretty lady in a red dress tossed a penny in my hat. Soon I had ten coins, then too many to count. Inspired by my success, I began to branch out and play hymns from church.
Clink clink clink
went pennies and nickels and even a silver dollar from a gent carrying a gold-headed cane.

Some folks asked me questions and clucked their tongues when I told them I was an orphan. Others worried about Caesar. Was he getting enough to eat? Was I treating him right? One lady actually went into a nearby butcher shop and came out with a bone for him. An old man brought him a bucket of water. I couldn't help noticing nobody gave me a thing to eat or drink. Which led me to believe Calvin was right about folks pitying animals more than people.

Every now and then one or two passersby would pause nearby and chat for a while. More than once I heard them speak of the poor orphan girl who was
murdered so cruelly in Bartlett. It surprised me to know my fame had spread so far, but I learned right quick to play the saddest songs of all when I heard my name. Eliza Yates's dreadful fate reminded folks of me. Here was a living orphan they could help. It tickled me to profit from my own death.

After an hour or so, a gentleman wearing a top hat and a look that matched came up to me and said, "We don't take kindly to beggars here. Move along, you wretched little miscreant. And take that pathetic excuse for a dog with you before I get a notion to shoot him as a public nuisance."

Just as I was about to be run out of town, the Gentleman Outlaw came strolling around the corner. He took one look and doffed his hat to the important gentleman.

"Good afternoon, sir," he said with all the politeness a body could want. "I see you've found my poor little orphan brother for whom I've been searching."

Calvin reached for me. In so doing, he tripped over Caesar, lost his balance, and fell against the important gentleman. After apologizing profusely, he turned to me, still acting weak and wobbly. "I know you wanted to help, Elijah, but I'd rather be dead of this plagued consumption than see you beg for our daily bread."

I stared at Calvin, too surprised to speak, but he leaned against me, coughing into his handkerchief
as if he'd left his deathbed to find me. Never had I seen a more piteous sight. If I hadn't known better, I'd have thought he was about to expire in my arms.

By now a goodly crowd had gathered, many of whom had helped fill my hat with coins. It was plain to see where their sympathy lay, but the important gentleman was too puffed up with pride to notice.

"What your brother needs is a good flogging," said he, twirling his mustache like a regular villain.

"Indeed, sir, I'll make sure Elijah doesn't bother you again," Calvin said with mock humility. Turning to me, he told me to pick up my hat before someone tripped over it.

While I stood there, clutching the hat to my chest, Calvin returned his attention to the important gentleman.

"Please accept my apologies for offending your sensibilities, sir. I realize that respectable citizens such as yourself prefer us unfortunates to suffer and die out of sight, sir."

The important gentleman glanced around uneasily, as if he was just beginning to notice the mood of the crowd. "It's high time you both moved along," he said, not sounding quite as sure of himself as before.

"Yes, sir," Calvin said, "it's high time, high time indeed." With a tip of his hat, he led me away, still leaning on my shoulder and coughing dramatically.

Behind us, the crowd hooted and jeered at the
important gentleman. The last I saw of him he was striding toward the bank, swinging his cane and doing his best to ignore the children parading along behind him mimicking every step he took.

After a few minutes, Calvin ducked into an alley between two shops. Twirling a gold pocket watch in my face, he said, 'Yes, sir, it's high time, Eli, high time indeed."

"Where in tarnation did you get that?"

Calvin gave me a scornful look. "Where do you think?"

'You stole it from the gentleman."

"'Stole' is a harsh word, Elijah. As for 'gentleman'—well, I wouldn't honor that rogue with such a fine appellation. Flog you indeed. The very idea. If I weren't dying of consumption, I'd flog
him.
"

Calvin examined the watch and dropped it into his pants pocket. "Not very good quality, I fear, but I suppose it will do for now."

I stared at him, speechless. I knew he robbed banks and trains and such. But to think he was also a common pickpocket was a mite disappointing.

'You look rather glum, Eli."

Calvin had read my mind, just as if the thoughts I was thinking were written on my forehead for him to see. "Well," I admitted, "somehow it doesn't seem very sporting to snatch a gentleman's watch without even telling him."

Leaning closer so we were eyeball to eyeball,
Calvin said, "Consider this, Elijah Bates. I didn't hurt him or kill him, and no one could fault my manners."

"I don't recall you thanking him for the watch."

Calvin laughed. "You're a clever lad, Eli." Taking the hat from me, he counted the coins. It seemed I'd gotten a total of three dollars and forty-seven cents, plus a shiny silver button and a fine-looking agate shooting marble. Not bad for an hour's work, I guess, but nothing to be proud of.