The Sisters Brothers (18 page)

Chapter 49

We stoked the fire and sat to discuss our partnership. Charlie was for dumping a barrelful of the formula that night but Warm demurred, saying he and Morris were drunk and exhausted besides. Morris, I should say, eventually emerged from his hiding place, gripping his arm in discomfort but hoping to appear nonchalant or cavalier about it. You could see he was troubled by our joining up with them; I watched Charlie watching him and was concerned about what my brother might say or do to the man. It was a relief when he greeted Morris without malevolence, extending his hand and saying he hoped they would let bygones be bygones. Morris shook Charlie’s hand reflexively; looking at me, he shrugged, and passed over a long silver flask. His mustache was frayed at its ends and his eyes were red and swollen and he said, ‘I’m tired, Hermann.’ Warm regarded him with fondness. ‘It has been a long one, has it not, my friend? Well, why don’t you go sleep it off. We’ll all have a rest and regroup as a quartet in the morning.’ Morris said no more, but retired to his tent. I had a drink of whiskey and handed the flask to Charlie. He took a drink and passed it to Warm. Warm took a short sip and screwed the top on tight, hiding the flask away in his coat pocket as if to say: That is enough of that. He licked his palm to smooth his hair and tugged on his lapels to straighten them. He was working through a fog, making an attempt at seriousness.

It was decided my brother and I would keep half of whatever we culled from the river, and that the remainder would go to what Warm called the Company.

‘The Company being you and Morris,’ Charlie said.

‘Yes, but it’s not as though the profits will be spent at the saloon. They will be used to finance future excursions, similar to this one, though more ambitious, and so more costly. Anyway, if this goes as I believe it might, the Company will grow quickly, with several operations under way simultaneously, and there will be opportunities to become further involved should one prove himself trustworthy. As for now, why don’t we wait and see if you and your brother can make it through this modest expedition without slitting my and Morris’s throats, eh?’

Fair enough, I thought. Warm began itching his ankles and shins and I asked him, ‘Did you pull very much from the river last night?’

He said, ‘We were so tickled with the spectacle that a good amount of time was wasted simply staring and wading and laughing and congratulating each other, when we should have been working. But in the quarter hour we labored before the gold ceased its glowing we removed what would have taken us a month if we had panned it. The formula works, all right. It works just as well as I had hoped or better.’ Looking over his shoulder at the river, Warm was contented to be thinking of his successes, and I felt a powerful envy as I watched him. He was reaping the benefits, both monetary and spiritual, of his hard labors and intelligence, and it made me think of my own path, which by comparison was so much the more thoughtless and heartless one. Charlie was also studying Warm, though his expression read less of admiration than enigmatic curiosity. Warm I do not think noticed our attentions to his person, and continued with his story: ‘It was just the prettiest thing I have ever seen, gentlemen. Hundreds upon hundreds of pieces of gold, each of them lit up, bright as a candle flame. I will call it the most pleasing work I’ve taken part in, stepping up and back in the water and sand, picking out the golden stones and plunking them into the bucket.’ His eyes were sharp and focused at the memory; a shiver ran through me as I gazed at the river and imagined it as he had described. ‘Twenty-four hours,’ he said, ‘then you will see for yourselves.’

Once again he began scratching his shins, more fiercely than before; I noticed in the firelight the coloring of his skin had darkened, and that the flesh was agitated and raw. He nodded his head at my curious expression and told me, ‘Something I did not account for, it’s true. I knew the formula to be caustic, but I had assumed it would do no harm once diluted in the river. In the future we should equip ourselves with a kind of covering for our feet and ankles.’ Morris called to him from the tent and Warm excused himself; when he returned he wore a grim face and confided in us that Morris was having some difficulty acclimating himself to life out of doors. ‘God knows I am indebted to him, but you should have seen his face when I forced him to leave his powders and scents in San Francisco. How he made it to California from Oregon City carrying all those bottles and boxes is beyond me.’

‘How is his arm?’ I asked.

‘The bullet only nicked him, and he is in no danger that I can see, but morale-wise he is doing poorly. Your both being here is weighing on his mind, and his legs are bothering him, more than mine, even. But you said something about medicine? It would put him at ease, I think, your making good on the offer of help.’

Charlie sent me back to our camp to collect our effects while he and Warm hammered out the final details of the consortium. When I returned with Nimble, weighed down with both our saddles and baggage, Charlie had dragged the three dead brothers nearer the fire, which I understood at once but which Warm, standing by, could not fathom. ‘Would it not be best to haul them into the forest?’ he said. ‘I should not like to look at their faces in the morning.’

‘The sun will never shine upon them,’ Charlie answered, and he pulled one of the men directly over top of the flames.

‘What are you doing?’ said Warm.

‘How are you fixed for lamp oil?’

Now Warm understood. He fetched his supply of oil, and I in turn gave him the alcohol and numbing medicine. He left to tend to Morris while I assisted Charlie in disposing of the corpses. We coated them head to foot in the oil and they were soon all three of them burning exultantly, their bodies stacked and blackened at the base of the blaze and I thought, So much for the calmer life. Warm’s face appeared at the entrance of the tent to watch the gruesome spectacle. He looked sad. After a time he said, to no one, ‘I have had enough of this day, today.’ His head disappeared, and I was alone once more with my brother.

Watching him roll out his blankets, I wished to ask him what was in his heart just then, for I wanted so badly to trust him, that he had at last made a moral decision, but I could not think of the correct words to say, and I was fearful of what the answer might be, and besides that I was spent, and just as soon as I laid my head on the ground I dropped into the most impenetrable kind of dreamless, leaden sleep.

Chapter 50

When I awoke, the sun was upon my face, the river sound was in my ears, and Charlie was not beside me. Warm stood stiffly over the bonfire ash pile, a long stick in his hand, half raised as though set to strike. He pointed out the gray-black skull of one of the dead brothers and said, ‘See it? Now, watch.’ He tapped the top of the skull and the entire visage collapsed to dust. ‘There is your civilized man’s last reward.’ His words had an embittered edge to them, so that I was moved to ask, ‘You are not the God-fearing sort, Warm?’

‘I am not. And I hope you aren’t, either.’

‘I don’t know if I am.’

‘You are afraid of hell. But that’s all religion is, really. Fear of a place we’d rather not be, and where there’s no such a thing as suicide to steal us away.’

I thought, Why did I bring up God so soon after waking? Warm returned his attentions to the ash pile. ‘I suppose the brain cooks down to nothing?’ he mused. ‘The heat converts it to water, which then evaporates. Just a slip of smoke and away floats the precious organ onto the breeze.’

‘Where is Charlie?’

‘He and Morris went to have a swim.’ Warm found another skull and likewise tapped and collapsed it.

‘They went together?’ I asked.

Looking upriver, he said, ‘Morris was complaining about his legs and your brother said he thought a dip might soothe the burning.’

‘How long ago did they leave?’

‘Half an hour.’ Warm shrugged.

‘Will you take me to them?’

He said he would. He was not alarmed and I did not wish to alarm him but I tried to hurry him along as much as possible, acting as though I were overheated and ready for a swim myself. Warm was not a man who liked to rush, however; in fact he appeared to insist upon stopping and dissecting most every little thing. Pulling on his boots, he wondered, ‘What do you imagine happened to the first man who wrapped his bare feet in leaves or leather, to protect himself? Likely he was pushed from the tribe, emasculated.’ He laughed. ‘He was probably showered with stones and killed!’ I had nothing to add to this, but Warm did not need any reply from me, and he continued his speech as we set off upriver: ‘Of course in those times people’s feet were covered in the very toughest calluses, so the desire for footwear was likely more for appearance than comfort or necessity, at least in the warmer climates.’ He pointed out an eagle flying nearby; when the bird swung down and collected a heavy fish from the river, Warm applauded.

His legs were troubling him and I offered my arm, which he took, with thanks. The sand was soft and deep and he asked me once and then again if we might rest, and though I was loath to hesitate anymore than was necessary, I was also hesitant to explain my reasons for hurrying. But Warm deduced it; he chuckled and asked me, ‘You do not trust your brother completely, do you?’ In the context of our tentative business alliance, and because Charlie was currently alone with Warm’s weakened comrade, here was a serious question, and yet his expression spoke only of amusement, as though we were engaging in the lightest type of town gossip.

‘He is a difficult one to pin down,’ came my sideways answer.

‘Morris, I think, actually despised your brother before your helping us last night. And yet this morning they were walking arm in arm. What do you make of it?’

‘I don’t know what to say, other than it is out of character for him.’

‘You do not think his assistance is wholesome?’

‘I am surprised to hear it, is all.’

Warm paused to scratch at his shins, and I could see his skin had become considerably darker, with blisters beginning to bloom upward toward the kneecap. His scratching grew more furious, so that he fairly shredded his own flesh with his fingernails; I believe he was frustrated about the formula acting as an irritant, and thus marring the beauty of his plans. At last he fell to slapping his legs to quiet the maddening itch, and this seemed to bring him some relief. Straightening his pant legs, he asked me, ‘But you don’t really think Charlie would
kill
old Morris, do you?’

‘I do not know. I hope not.’ He put his arm on mine and we continued upstream. I said, ‘I’ll admit it feels unusual to speak this way with you.’

He shook his head. ‘Best to keep it out in the open, as far as I’m concerned. And isn’t it already? And really, what can Morris and I do about it? We would rather you and your brother
not
kill us, but we’re at your mercy more or less, aren’t we?’

‘It’s quite a group you’ve assembled, Warm.’

Gravely, he said, ‘Dodgy, isn’t it. A dandy and two infamous murderers.’

I began to laugh, and Warm asked me what was funny. ‘You, and your purple legs and hands. Morris and my brother, and the men piled high in the fire. My dead horse tumbling down a hill.’

Warm appreciated the sentiment, and stood awhile to beam at me. ‘Touch of the poet in you, Eli.’ He said he would like to ask me something personal, and I granted him permission, and here is what he wished to know: ‘It is a question I put to Morris some time ago, but now I am wondering the very same thing about you, which is how you came to work for a man like the Commodore.’

I said, ‘It’s a long story. But basically, my brother knew violence from a young age, thanks to our father, who was a bad man. This brought about many problems for Charlie, one of these being that whenever he was insulted he could never engage in your average fight with fists or even knives, but had to see each episode through to death. Well, you kill a man, then his friend or brother or father comes around, and it starts all over again. So it was that Charlie sometimes found himself outnumbered, which was where I came in. I was young, but my temper was always high, and the thought of someone causing harm to my older brother—up until then he had been a very good and protective brother—was enough to make me partway insane. As his reputation grew, so did the number of his opponents, and so did his need for assistance, and in time it was understood that to come up against one of us was to do battle with both. It turns out, and I don’t know why this is, and have at times wished it were not so, but yes—we had or have an aptitude for killing. Because of this, we were approached by the Commodore, who offered us positions in his firm. At first this was more muscle work—debt collection, that type of thing—than outright murder. But as he took us further into his confidence, and as the wage increased, it soon devolved to it.’ Warm was listening intently to the story, and his face was so serious I could not help but laugh. I said, ‘Your expression tells me your opinion of my profession, Warm. I am inclined to agree with you. At any rate, and just as I was saying to Charlie, this job is my last.’

Warm ceased walking, and turned to watch me with a lost, fearful look on his face. I asked him what was the matter and he said, ‘I believe you meant to say the job
before
was your last. For you do not plan to see this one through, isn’t that the case?’

We had just cleared a curve in the river; looking up, I saw Charlie, naked, stalking from the water to his clothing on the shore. Morris lay floating just behind him, belly up, his body still. When Charlie turned toward us, his face broke into a smile, and he waved. Now I saw Morris was sitting up, unmolested, and he too waved and called to us. My heart was pounding hard; it felt as though the blood was draining right out of it. Returning my attentions to Warm, I answered him, ‘It was only a mix-up of words, Hermann, and we are through working for the man. I give you my word on it.’

Warm stood before me then, looking into me; his manner conveyed several things at once: Sturdiness, wariness, fatigue, but also an energy or glow—something like the center of a low flame. Is this what they call charisma? I do not know, exactly, except to say Warm was more
there
than the average man.

‘I
believe
you,’ he said.

We made our way to the others, with Morris calling from the water, ‘Hermann! You must come in! It really is a great help.’ His voice was high pitched, and he was outside of himself, removed from his personal constraint of rigidness and seriousness, and very much pleased to be. ‘The gay little baby,’ Warm commented, dropping onto his backside in the sand. Squinting in the sunlight he looked up and asked, ‘Help me with my boots, Eli, please?’