"So, you! I never forget a debt. That was for my brother!" she said. It's then I noticed her eys. I never forget the eyes. Just like her brother? and her mother. It all came back to me. Laramie, a card game, a marked deck. Some cheap, two bit hustler who had the same eyes as the OutLaw/Lady standing before me. He took my two bits and I'd have cut him a new mouth in his throat with my Bowie if I hadn't seen the locket around his neck. The picture of the woman, slightly older than I'd remembered her?And now standing before me was the spitting image of the woman in the locket, except a younger and tougher version of the woman I'd remembered from childhood. As for her brother, that two bit scalawag had signed up with the Union, got captured by Johnny Reb at Shiloh and died a prisoner-of-war at Andersonville. I think he discovered courage, but I'd never know for sure.
The General interceded quickly and separated the Lady and me before any harm could come of it. 'Sides, I can understand her defending her family, no matter what they had or hadn't done to her in the past. It's just funny that she doesn't know the truth about us, a truth that came ringing clear to my ears with that one punch, the flash of her eyes and the comment about her brother. She'll learn one day. One day soon I reckon.
As I was composing myself, I saw a man enter, someone I'd heard tall tales about but had never met in person. The frontiersman Geo, the b@st@rdo! All decked out in fringed rawhide, thick soled boots and drinking from an everpresent bottle of wine. Many men feared the tread of his boot, the lash of his tongue. The b@st@rdo could cut a tall man down to size in no time without even getting up from his chair. The General, the Lady and b@st@rdo all knew each other. I didn't. I took my seat and listened in to their plans. Geo laid it out: the General was to raise a posse to protect Vashe and her tobac plantation from some red~zoners in exchange for half the harvest. Sounded like a square deal to my ears. 'Sides? they didn't know this but I had my own score to settle with the red~zoners for what they did in El Rey when we busted Indio out of that Mexican prison. Bunch of no good double crossers! Heck, I?d defend Vashe's fields for free just to get a pound of horse flesh from those red~zoners. That and 'cause of my connection to her.
Finally, they turned to me. "How about it Angel Eyes?" the General asked in that firm voice of his. "You in with us?" Vashe looked at me warily. She knew I'd sent more than my fair share to boot hill for a lot less than she'ld just done to me. I picked up the glass of bourbon with my smoldering cheroot in it, glancing down at the charred remains. I looked up and smiled at them. Geo knowingly smiled back. "Tell you what. I reckon you give me a new glass of whisky and a new smoke and we've got a deal." Vashe smiled, reached into her vest and produced a beautiful dark wrapped cigar. "Damn!" I thought, "This must be one of them fancy, hand-rolled 10 cent cigars! A wrangler like me can only dream ?bout smoking one of them!" I took the cigar from her beautiful hand and gave it the once over twice. "I grow and roll these myself. Best tobac in the whole state!" She was beaming. I had to accept. I bit off the end and struck a match on my boot heel, flaming the end of the stogie. And I drew some smoke into my lungs, blowing out rings?
The General looked up from his drink. "Begging the Lady's pardon, I think it best if we head back to your ranch before the Sun sets. These roads are filled with scalawags, backstabbers, deserters and all other manner of vermin." Vashe smiled "Much like this watering hole. HA! Let's go."
I finished my smoke and Geo downed his last glass of red wine. "I've got a wagon out back loaded with some kegs," the b@st@rdo exclaimed. "I can run anyone out to the ranch who wants to join me." The General replied "That's ok. I've got my stead and Angel Eyes road here on his. But I'm sure you can give the Lady a ride." Vashe glared at him. "I road here myself as well. My stallion is outside. Don?t EVER underestimate me."
She strutted off through the saloon, every pair of eyes watching her pass. She looked just as fine going away as she did coming towards you, her spurs clicking time on the hardwood floor. We followed her out the swinging doors. She loosened the reigns on her horse and, in one motion, leaped onto the saddle. Her horse was a tough stallion, a strong male tamed by a stronger woman. As she turned, the setting sun caught her eyes, adding fire to the gleaming jade green.
"My men will have some grub ready by now," she said to us from the saddle. "Men?" I asked. "I thought you tended the crop of tobac yourself?"
"You know Angel Eyes, you ask too many questions." She eyed me warily. "No, I have two helpers, the Professor who helps me with the crop. A very bright but eccentric man. And Festr, my caretaker. You wouldn't know to look at him, but he is quite handy with a Remington rifle."
The General lit up a fat stogie and started puffing away. Wheeling his horse next to Vashe's, he handed her the cigar and then pulled its twin out of his blue Union coat and lit that one up as well. I didn't expect any charity from him, and none was forthcoming. We had too much history to live down 'tween us for he'd ever give me the benefit of the doubt again. No, I had satisfy myself with another cheap cheroot. Geo amused himself with another mug of his best red wine, taken from one of the four kegs on his wagon.
As we road west, into the sunset, I started hearing a beautiful sound, like a lonesome dove or a waterfall. I realized it was the OutLaw, singing to herself. I pulled out my git-fiddle and started strumming in time to her humming.
The words came cascading out of her mouth; beautiful, haunting words?
The sky was swath of color; the reds, golds and purples maginificantly painting the land of my birth. They glinted in the glossy coat of my stallion, Argile, an Arabian stead with a long lineage. I always loved riding, even as a little girl of five, the beginning of my tutledge. I took to the freedom of riding right away. The feel of the horse's muscles moving under my thighs, the wind whipping through my hair, the smell of heat, rising from the mount's coat. Saddle or bareback, riding was my passion. I soon relaxed into Argile's long stride. A song heard long ago, unwound from my mind in my mother's voice with haunting: