★ Levi and the Ferryman - Ch. 4

Note: I didn’t have the other chapters emailed because I didn’t want to spam anyone with them. Since Ao3 is down, this story will be available and all chapters will be updated here until the Archive is back up and running. A Google Drive with all my previous stories (or at least the working files I used to write them, which may have minor differences) is also available HERE.

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The sunset cast the whole of Bridgeton in a wash of yellows and oranges, casting long shadows over the main drag and shining in miniature dapples through the occasional puffs of tobacco smoke rising up from under porch eaves.  It was after supper on a Saturday night and the boys from around town were filtering their way from their jobs and homes to the saloon or the brothel, looking for the only entertainment little frontier towns like these could provide.

Seth wasn’t all that fond of the rowdier saloons, preferring the sorts of places that catered to a less raucous clientele.  Work like his was of a social sort and as was usual, folks came to him when they thought of things that might help.  It made it easier to be seen in the usual haunts and to be available and approachable—it was how a man made his money with a job like this.

The bar was still a little damp from the towel when he leaned his arm over it to order a shot of something strong and then a beer to wash it down.  With his back against the rail, he tipped his hat up to see proper and took stock of all the patrons, naming them in his head as he went from left to right, forming the web of all he knew about them as he took the time to recall.  Husbands, wives, neighbors, friends, not-friends-but-not-quite-enemies…  Such was life in a town with a small population.

A presence brought warmth to his elbow and he was startled to find himself graced with the presence of the priest.  McOnder was a bit of a paradox and unpredictable as such—unpredictable men were dangerous in Seth’s line of work, but fortunately he was certain that he’d not as yet made an enemy of God—making his presence in the saloon both surprising and unsurprising for different reasons.

“Father,” he greeted, nodding as if to tip up his hat despite that it was already as up as it could be.

“Mr. Knight,” was his answering salutation before he was handed a glass of wine and he turned to face in the same direction, casting an affectionate gaze over to a table where several of the cathouse girls were learning how to play cards from some of the few saloon girls in their dyed feathers and tulle skirts.

Seth cleared his throat, gesturing to the girls with the neck of his bottle.  “That’s a lot o’ leg.”

McOnder smiled minutely.  “Miles, I suppose.”

“I understand you herd.”

“If that’s the term they’d like to use, then I guess I ‘herd’.  Considering the implication of a shepherd and a flock, it’s safe to assume I herd more than just the girls.”  The Irish in his words was light, hidden behind a mask from the eastern coast, but it was still present.

“Does the diocese know you’re married?”

“The bishop is a realistic man.”

“Another Jesuit?”

McOnder smirked, too damned handsome for his own good and very sleek indeed in black.  “Collecting little bits of knowledge here and there, are you Mr. Knight?”

“Habit.  Hard to break.”

McOnder sipped his wine.  “The bishop is indeed a Jesuit and when it comes to little parishes like this, it is best to live in accordance with the prevailing culture, as it is.  Abrupt change is an impossibility in most cases and can cause more harm to the church in the long run.  Lessons learned from the Yucatan, I like to think.”

Seth took a gulp of his beer.  “I’ll pretend I know what that means.”

“There’s actually a reason I came over to speak with you, lad.”

“Is that right?”

His expression was suddenly severe.  “I heard you’re looking to bring him with you.  So he might identify Everwin and make it easier for you to collect the bounty without trouble.”

“It would be helpful,” he provided, conceding to himself that it wasn’t strictly necessary to do so, but what sort of future did a boy like that have in a place like this?  Sure, he had the church and the whores but if he wasn’t taken by a calling in either direction, there weren’t much reason to stay.  It was more likely that he’d be able to find somewhere else to plant himself when it came down to it—a fresh start and a hard-earned lesson in trust he wouldn’t soon forget.

“I know you’re aware of my fatherly affection for Mr. Brandt.  I beg of you to keep your judgments of him within your own heart, much as that might seem a burden to you.”

Seth blew a little laugh out his nose.  “You ain’t gotta worry about my judgments, Father.  I usually save those for the men staring down the barrel, not that they’re mine to give.”

“I appreciate that, Alpha.  And I would appreciate it more if you kept him as safe as you possibly can.  He was born and bred out here, but he’s hardly got an inch o’ savagery in him.  If you put a gun in his hands, you best be prepared that he may not be able to pull that trigger when it counts.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.  He a uh…frequent visitor on Sundays, Father?  I’d think a boy like him might be a little skittish about that kind of thing.”

“If you’re wondering what kind of superstition Mr. Brandt might have, you may as well know he’s not exactly a staunch Catholic or even a Christian by any means.  But I do know he sure as rain believes in the Devil, as many do out here.”

“Might as well,” Seth sighed, gulping down the last few swallows of his beverage before he held up a finger to the bartender for another.  “I’ll keep him as safe as I can.  Some of that won’t be in my hands, but I’ll try to make sure his are up to the challenge.  If there’s anything he’s already proven it’s that he’s got the will.  More than half the battle, that.”

“True enough.”

The rest of his night was spent with the attempt to remain as casual as possible though being what he was, he was naturally set upon by those who wanted to talk about the most interesting thing that had happened in the last year or so in a backwater like Bridgeton.  He listened politely as he could, tempering his scent when certain opinions were shared and waiting for them to pass so that he might glean something useful from between all the blathering.

“Well, I can’t believe that nice boy Jameson would have been so swayed to sin, though I can’t say I’m all that shocked about Brandt.  Did you hear about his father?  A no-good reprobate, as far as my Papa recalls.  Managed to get his’self hanged near fifteen years ago, not that Levi ever really knew him but they do say that apples rarely fall far from the tree, isn’t that right Mr. Knight?”

A casual grunt had taken care of that one.

“Ain’t no good come of a boy without a decent father.  I feel damn sorry for that Everwin.  Damn shame he had to end up on that ranch tempted like that.”

He’d had to bite the inside of his lip not to roll his eyes into the back of his skull.

“I was friends with Mr. Truman and he liked that boy, Levi.  If he liked that boy, I think there was a good reason to do so.  Saw good in ‘im.  He wouldn’t have given him a place to stay like that and fed him and clothed him and cared for him otherwise.  A family of saints if you ask me, and if what they’re saying is true—that this transient, no matter how nice he was, killed them all and skipped town…well I’m damned glad Levi made it, sad as it is he’s gonna have to live without the only people what made him a proper home.”

Seth made certain to remember his face and shook his hand when he left, happy to at least have met one decent fellow aside from the priest.  Eventually, he found himself alone at the corner table so he put his feet up on the chair beside him and leaned back to watch the saloon girls delivering shots on their silvered platters to the boys at the card table, their feathered headdresses swishing back and forth from the cool breeze let in from open windows.

Eventually, a hot smoky scent hit him from the doorway and he welcomed Cole Harper to sit, trading pleasantries while a girl brought him a drink before they both leaned forward in tandem and settled in.

“I plan to start along the trail through the pass and see if they’ve seen hide or hair of ‘em down by Griggson’s Mill.  If they haven’t, I’m plannin’ on a sweep down toward the plains and back.  If he’s in with a gang, they won’t be far from somewhere they can replenish supplies.  If it ain’t a town, it’ll be a common passage with plenty of wagons comin’ through.”

Harper nodded.  “And if he’s alone?”

“If he’s alone, he’s stupid.”  He wagged his head back and forth with consideration for the thought.  “Then again, he might be alone just to ditch the heat before he heads on back.  How long is a question for certain, and where he might’ve stashed the money is another.”

“Money won’t change his scent.  You got a good memory for it?”

“Not as good as yours.  Damn him bein’ a Beta, for that matter.”

“Difficult but not impossible.”

“I saved the pillowcase from the bunkhouse but I suspect he didn’t use it as much as he did the nest ‘e shared with…”  He trailed off, flicking his eyes up to Harper who didn’t react at all.  “Inconvenient…havin’ ‘em all mingled together like that.  I ain’t good enough at sniffin’ to be able to pick ‘em apart rightly.  Especially Betas.”

“It’ll be easier since you’ll have Brandt with you.  You’ll get used to ‘im and you’ll be able to pick out the other one better.”

“I s’pose you’re right.  I do set myself to wonderin’ if it might be a bad idea to bring him along.  No voice?  On the trail?  Might be more trouble than it’s worth to have ‘im.”

“Without a wanted poster though…”

“I’m sure someone could describe him…”

Harper shrugged a shoulder.  “I’d bring the kid if I was you.  He’s the most reliable identifier you’ve got.  Just…be careful with ‘im.  I’d hate for you to have Saul on your ass about him gettin’ hurt.”

He grunted.  “It seems he’s a rather contentious fellow.  Loved or hated and not much between.”

Harper sipped his beverage, his tongue poking out to lick the foam from his whiskers.  “Always kinda kept to ‘imself.  Nothin’ wrong with that, just something people notice.  Everwin was the opposite, always a kind word and a helpin’ hand.  Joined a posse once to catch some miscreant what poisoned his wife and skipped off into the wilderness.  Seemed like a decent sort and always made time for folks.  Things people remember.  Things people appreciate.”

“Doesn’t take much, do it?” he muttered.

Harper shook his head.  “Not out here.  Throw in that Levi’s been uh…bending over…well…”  His brows came up as he swiped his thumb up the side of his pint glass to catch some of the moisture.

“Pardon me for sayin’ so but what a man does in his own damned bed ain’t the town’s business.”

“Invite me when you decide to inform them of that, it might be worth an entire day of entertainment.  Times like these, it’s easier for folks to forgive certain things if you made them feel heard and important a time or two before that.  Everwin was good at that kind o’ thing.”

“You’d think it would make the betrayal hit harder.”

“Maybe.  But if they’ve got someone else easier to reach, they’ll take him instead.”

“Savages,” he muttered.  “He don’t deserve any of this.”

Harper pulled a rolled cigarette out of the front pocket of his shirt and placed the end of it into his mouth, giving Seth a long, contemplative look before he lit his match and puffed the first few drags.  “You’re an interesting fella, Mr. Knight.”

“You think so?  I think you’re kinda interesting yourself, Mr. Harper.”

A devilish little smirk graced the other bounty hunter’s mouth as he smoked.  “You might be right about that.  Anyway, I’ve gotta git.  I’m bein’ waited up on and I ain’t one to keep ‘em guessin’.”

“Alright, Alpha.”

He was again alone and it was dark outside, the night’s warmth slowly giving way to a slight chill in the breeze as the deep purple sky clouded over.  He was on his last drink–so he thought–when a girl sat down beside him.  Not a saloon girl, as one might have assumed in the low light and at this time of the evening, but one of the girls from the bedhouse.  She wasn’t quite familiar to him, but he could still remember her name and he pointed toward her with narrowed eyes.

“Kitty.”

“That’s right,” she cooed, her ash blonde hair tumbling over one of her bare shoulders as her little tunic sagged off of both to give her a sultry appearance while her bodice bolstered the rest.  “You free tonight?”

He laughed.  “Yeah, but you ain’t.”

Her smile was sweet as she turned her head and tucked her hair behind her ear in a practiced gesture.  “That wasn’t what I meant when I came over here to talk to yah.  I was thinkin’ about what I might be able to say about–”

“About Levi?  I know ‘e spent time at the bedhouse, but I was told he was more fond o’ Saul than you ladies.”

“Actually, about Jamie.”

The effects of the booze seemed to suddenly lessen, the edges of the world becoming sharper and the image of Kitty becoming clearer.  He leaned forward again.

“Father McOnder don’t like when the men put their hands on us in certain ways, as you might understand, but if we don’t see no harm in it, we just charge a little extra for some of ‘em to get a mite rough.”  She smiled at the saloon girl who came by and placed a shot of clear liquor in front of her.  With two well-manicured fingers, she twisted it but didn’t drink it.  “Well, you see…Jamie might well have been buggerin’ Levi but when he wasn’t, he was spendin’ his money with me.”

“I’ll be damned.”

“He weren’t as sweet and kind like as the married women might tell you, Mr. Knight.  He was a brute, that one.  Worst I ever had.  What made ‘im so bad wasn’t that he was mean but that he talked nice while he was hurtin’ ya.  I don’t think he was like that with Levi–a man might do more about it, you ken?  A man who ain’t gettin’ paid to put up with it wouldn’t let another man put his hands on him so.”  She crossed her arms in front of her in a subtle defensive posture, as if guarding her breasts.  “He weren’t no saint.  Not even close.”

“You and the marshal seem to be on the same page on that.  Must’ve been whatever he saw in ‘im when he had ‘im in a posse.”

“Wouldn’t surprise me.  Brings out the best or the worst in all men to think they’s right about something for once.”

He smiled at her and was tickled pink to find her disarmed by it.  He knew he was easy on the eyes, but women weren’t all that common—nor in his case desired—so it was a novelty to find one flushing at his grins.  “Very true, little miss.  Thank you for talking to me.  I appreciate knowin’.”

“Take care o’ that boy.”

“I will.”

“Alright.  You promise?”

“I promise.”

She shook his hand as she got up, her grip tight and serious.  

He didn’t let her go.  “Tell me one more thing, darlin’.”

Kitty sat back down, her hand still in his.

“How come y’all like him so much?  Every respectable person…or at least most of ‘em…think he was destined for the noose.  Had an outlaw for a father, a shameful mother, grew up a quiet boy left to care for himself and mostly untouchable save the occasional kindness of others…why do you all care about what happens to ‘im?”

She squeezed his hand again, this time with an affectionate warmth.  “Who else but us?  It’s what we’re made to do…forgive and give and give.  He’s one of us, Alpha.  He’ll do the same.  Forgive…and give…and give.”

A vessel of Grace.

He rubbed his thumb over her fingers and let her go.  “You’re a remarkable set of folks.”

“No we ain’t.”  She got up and left him sitting there alone with his beer in the low flickering lamplight.

There wasn’t much more for him to learn now.  The breeze was bordering on cold when he broke away and settled under the outside eave to smoke, watching the haze of it dissipate into the clear night.

Brandt had looked downright shocked to realize that he was coming on the hunt and it seemed most people in this town would have agreed that to bring him was to act a fool.  Men like Brandt were considered soft but how long had he been working in a hard life doing farming and ranching?  He was lean but muscled and in a few years he’d fill out well.  Provided he made it that long, of course.  Maybe he’d learn how to shoot, but some men weren’t cut out for killin’ as the preacher had mentioned and he did get a feeling that might well describe Brandt.  It wasn’t softness as much as it was a respect for life…something Seth held in rather high regard.

How many newborn foals had the Beta helped pull into the world?  How many small calves had blinked open their long-lashed eyes and seen their first kindness in him?  How many chicks had been held in his calloused palms and warmed by his touch?

Seth sighed out a cloud of tobacco smoke and rubbed at his eyes.

How many people have touched him in anger?  Have hurt him and gone on without a single thought of what they might’ve done wrong?

How many times has he had to forgive?  And give?  And give…?