Marshall Santos is kneeling down beside a grave marker in Boot Hill Cemetery just outside Dodge City. He mulls over a few things.
"Around Dodge City and in the western territories, there is just one way to handle all the killers and the spoilers, and that is with a US Marshall and the smell of gun smoke. This is Mannysmoke, the transcribed story of the violence that moved west with young America and the story of a man who moved with it. I am that man, Danny "Matt Dillion" Santos, United States Marshall. Out here, I remind myself of how violence always ends, buried in the rim of a nation on the edge of the wild frontier. Some were slaughtered aimlessly, the rest I killed. I'm a lawman and a US Marshall. Law comes hard to the frontier and men like these did not want it. And there are more men alive today who will come to Dodge City that do not want it. They are the drifters and the lawless and they have to be dealt with. I am the first man they look for and the last one they want to meet. It is a chancy job, and it makes a man watchful and a little lonely."
His hand slowly drifted up her leg, stroking and thumbing its way up her petticoats. He half nibbled, half bit at her neck. He hummed the tune to the Battle Hymn of the Republic while thrusting his hips at her own. Oh well, she thought it is his quarter, he can do this anyway he wants to do it as long as it is quick. Then she felt the cold metal trace up her leg and she sat up straight.
She said, "You will stop that now, right now, get your hat and coat, and leave this salon immediately."
He hesitated, then sneered at her and slowly got up off the bed. Mrs. Selena Davis, Lady Gay herself, watched the local bank president leave the room. He threw down two sawbucks for her trouble. Mr. Ben Warren was an odd one, a very odd bird at that.
Luckily, Drew warned her in advance about this guy so she was prepared. There was only one saloon left in town that would allow this man to partake in its fare and that was the Towers Saloon run by the Raines women. They allowed anybody and everybody into their club, even half-breeds like Alan Spaulding's spawn. Selena did not like Beth and Lillian; still she hoped nothing bad happened to them. Lillian was always administering aid to all of her customers, feeling their foreheads, checking their tongues and eyes for signs of ill health. She ladled out as much chicken soup as she did liquor at the Towers. Her daughter, Beth, was the exact opposite of Lillian Nightingale. Beth was needy and hung on all the men at the Towers. They all loved her for a good time but she was like a horse that had been rode too many times without the proper grooming afterwards. Her story was a sad one, too sad to tell in a short fiction like this. Maybe someday, someone will come along with a story to do her justice.
Selena made a mental note to post a complaint over at the Marshall's office. Danny Santos was good at keeping the riffraff and the disturbed men out of the saloons once a complaint was on record. The Marshall was due in on the stage sometime today as well as two European men who booked rooms at Selena's establishment via telegram. Selena assumed this was a mistake and rebooked them at Miss Vicki's proper hotel.
Michelle watched her class playing at recess. The deputy Marshall, Jesse Blue, really liked recess and often taught the youngsters to shoot tin cans off posts. After a few weeks, the boys and girls were giving the deputy lessons. Jesse Blue's progress amazed her. He was beginning to read from his primer now. Soon he would be able to tackle some passages in the Gospels. The deputy already signed on to a whole years worth of schooling so that he could learn arithmetic too, he said.
After today, there would be no class for two weeks so that the children could assist the farmers with harvesting tasks. Michelle had no immediate plans other than to try to help her brother win over Miss Abigail Blume's heart. Doc Rick was proving the hard headed fool she'd always remembered him to be, once he saw something was out of his reach, he'd always want it all that much more. Michelle had some ideas for getting the two to work together; several broodmares were set to foal soon at Ray Santos' ranch and another was due at Cassie Jessup's farm. The two properties adjoined one another. If you believed the gossip her brother was bandying around, those two were living together in sin.
Mrs. Drew Kitty, one of the town's local saloon owners, said never to pay any heed to what Doc said until the proof was in the pudding. Michelle made a note to learn this part of the country's colloquialisms. She also wanted to talk with Mrs. Drew Kitty and determine what would make a smart woman like her want to own a tavern. Knowing and socializing with such a woman back east was inappropriate but here in the west, such friendships amongst women were actually quite common.
Marshall Danny Santos told her that he would be gone for three weeks and it had been three weeks to the day. This morning Jesse Blue told her that a wire came in over at the newspaper office saying that the Marshall was due back via the Topeka line this afternoon. Michelle wondered if the time separation would matter to the Marshall. Their last encounter had been heated and passionate. She had two weeks off, would he want to spend them with her or would he prefer they just be friends. Miss Bauer decided not to let this plague her, much.
After school, Michelle walked back to the jailhouse with the deputy. On the way, the stage arrived at Meta and Hawk's depot and after much to do, the passengers disembarked. The first passenger was a woman cloaked in black with opaque netting preventing even a partial view of her face. She spoke quietly to Meta and walked towards the hotel. Then two dandy looking men jumped out. They appeared weary from the travel but their attire spoke of a different place and a different world? When she was a young girl, Michelle traveled extensively to Boston, New York City, Baltimore and Chicago in addition to her schooling in St. Louis. Never in all of her travels had she seen the fancy garments that these two wore. They shook hands with the depot owners and walked towards Selena's saloon, The Lady Gay.
Finally, Marshall Santos got out of the stagecoach. He exchanged a few quick words with the stagecoach drivers and with the Shayne's. One of the drivers brought down the strongbox and Hawk ambled across the street to the Savings R Us to deposit the currency. Danny Santos turned as he removed his hat and using his red silk bandana wiped his brow. He stopped when he saw his deputy and Michelle. Then he started walking towards them quickly.
"You can go Jesse, I've got everything under control here." Jesse for the first time in his life took the hint and sauntered back to the jailhouse. It was about time for Alan Spaulding's evening meal, which meant it was almost time for him to eat too.
Danny took Michelle's arm and glancing around him walked her over to the private courtyard behind Doc's office. He knew Rick Bauer and at this time every day, he was knocking back a few at Mrs. Drew Kitty's saloon. Once in the courtyard, he drew her tightly to him. She smiled up at him and his lips lowered to hers. A gentle kiss turned more passionate and she leaned into him. Michelle swayed against him, unconsciously pushing her hips toward his in some sort of primal mating instinct. He pushed back and when he started to undo the buttons at her throat, he shook his head and came to his senses. They were in a semipublic place. It was daylight; she was the town school marm.
The Marshall pushed her away, and she stepped forward losing her balance. He put his arms out and caught her and she looked up at him dreamily. Danny thought that he could get lost in those eyes and never reason about life and reality ever again if he let himself.
"Michelle, I've missed you, every day for the last three weeks. I think we need to talk, I live a rough life but since you and I met that first day, things have been different for me. I've been different."
"Danny, I have thought about nothing but you. This is all so new."
Then as usual, an interruption occurred. The two new dandies came through the garden gate and the younger more attractive gentleman, called out, "Oh Marshall, excuse me, my good man, can you tell us if the doctor is in, we need to get a dosage of laudanum for our travel weary bones."
Danny stepped back and formerly introduced Michelle to Edmund (the younger and more friendly of the two) and Richard (the stiff almost wooden older brother). Michelle offered polite inquiries and the two gentlemen let on that they came to town as a way of learning more about the Wild West. They explained their great interest in the west came from the recently published works of Bret Harte and Samuel Clemens/Mark Twain. The gentlemen said they were making their way across America and found the journey highly enjoyable and the countryside and people fascinating. During the short talk, Edmund spoke for both brothers.
Finally, Richard leaned over to Edmund and spoke behind his hand laughing and snickering.
Edmund looked at Michelle and said, "Forgive my brother and I, we are both a bit weary you see and the excitement on the stage which I am sure the good Marshall just told you about, well it has all been too much."
"Listen up," Danny interrupted, "there is no need to upset the lady. If I see Doc I'll send him over to the hotel, all right."
Edmund smiled and nodded then shook his head, "No, we are actually ensconced at the Lady Gay Saloon. Somehow, our reservations were misappropriated but we straightened everything out. Can you tell us where we might secure horses, particularly English pleasure horses for a morning ride?"
"Sure, go down the street and turn right at the Gunsmith. The blacksmith and livery are right behind the gun shop. The blacksmith goes by the name of Matt "Quint" Reardon. You'll recognize him when you see him, goodnight gentlemen."
The two men disappointed at not getting their laudanum but obviously now amused at something else, walked off. Danny breathed a sigh of relief but did so just a bit too soon.
Richard quiet until now said aloud, "You know these people are such barbarians. Less than 3 hours ago, that man gunned down 3 robbers right before our very eyes and now he is pitching woo to the town school teacher and has pitched a bit too much if one was to ask me, she is covered in the dead men's blood."
Michelle looked down at her pale pink damask dress. The entire bodice of her dress was tinged with blood; she looked at Danny and saw bloodstains on his person as well. His shirt was salmon colored so she failed to notice the stains when they first exchanged greetings. She felt ill. What kind of life did the Marshall lead, what was she getting herself into, how could she ever be with a man who gunned people down even if it was justified?
She started to walk away, then started running. Danny called after her but she did not hear his words, she was crying tears of fear and rage and hurt. She ran to her room at the boarding house and tore off her dress. Pouring water from the basin on her dresser, she started washing the blood off her skin and after a few minutes sank down to her knees sobbing.
Danny was furious at himself. What was the matter with him acting like some lovesick wolf? Embracing her like that in a place where anyone could observe them, again! This time she had come face to face with the very issue, he wanted to avoid at all costs, the nature of his job and the brutality of it. He walked back towards the jailhouse. This had been one hell of a long day; he started out in Topeka and rode like hell until he caught the stage. Rumors were rampant that the Topeka line was due for a robbery. Once on the stagecoach, he had to contend with those English fops for hours on end listening to them drone on and on about English culture and literature. They were dressed fancy but he personally would not be surprised if they were from California or the USA capital in Washington.
These two were definite suspects to keep an eye on in the future. He decided to telegraph several other cities to check on reports about suspicious goings on. The other stagecoach rider seemed innocent enough under all that dense fabric covering her and making up her widow's weed attire. Why was he so apprehensive of a simple widow? He needed to stop thinking about work and change clothing after he filed his report. He would walk over to the boarding house and take Michelle Bauer the gift he brought her from Topeka. It was bound to make her smile.
It turned out that the jailhouse was a hotbed of activity. Mrs. Holly Reid brought Alan Spaulding his dinner and Jesse was choking down the remainders of it. Alan was playing the guitar and singing a tune. This tune was different. It was melodic and the words kind of pretty. Yep, this song was delightful.
He called out to Alan, "I'll let you out of jail right now if you name that song and play it again for us."
"Sure thing, Marshall. The song's name is "Reborn in the Blues."
I'm a lonesome Spaulding
Unlucky in love
Got a bug stuck in my beard
Haven't shaved in a month.
I look for love in all the wrong places
And all my wives left me
Dear God here is a scary thought
I'm starting to feel like poor Jesse.
CHORUS
I'm a cowboy man
Reborn in the blues
I was great and grand
I'm the king of fools
But I'm a proud cowboy man
Reborn in the blues.
There's my control freak son
And his bimbo of an ex
Now let me sleep it off
I might say things I'll regret
'Cause I'm a lonesome Spaulding
Lost in this town
With teenagers frolicking
Stealing my airtime
(repeat CHORUS)
So I sit on my porch
Cradling my Gold mine
Pulling a few chords
Watching the sun rise
'Cause I'm a cowboy man
I'm the king of fools
A lonesome old Spaulding
Reborn in the blues.*
*--words by Andrea Hebert-copyright 1999
Holly, Jesse and even Danny clapped at the end of the song. Alan Spaulding showed something akin to pride at this adulation. Danny unlocked the jail cell and asked Alan to escort Mrs. Holly back to her abode above the newspaper office. Alan agreed a bit too readily not to arouse suspicion but the day had been too rough to do more than smile about it all.
Danny called out, "Play those kind of songs at Towers and I may not be as quick to arrest you again, okay Spaulding?"
Spaulding now free sneered at the Marshall as if taunting him with a nonverbal catch me if you can look. Once inside Holly's office, she checked her telegraph board and found a message decoded by her assistant, Louisa. "Wait Alan, this is for you," she called out.
Spaulding tore open the Western Union Telegram and read it aloud. "Philip Spaulding not returning to ranch this year, STOP. Have reenlisted in Texas Rangers, STOP I've lost 2 wives over this decision so ask that you respect my choices, STOP Thinking of you dad, stay off the Towers Saloon Water Tank, STOP. Cordially your son, Philip, STOP."
"Damn," Spaulding cursed. "This beats everything. With Philip going back into those darn rangers and David Grant talking about becoming a minister and marrying Miss Vicki proper like, I am losing my gang. What is a gang with one leader and 20 mixed up cowhands? Holly I need a guiding post, a compass point. I need help."
"Alan Spaulding," Holly Reid answered with a smile, I see you going due north and up those stairs. I will help you if you are willing to stay away from the saloons a bit and give me that loan for the new printing machine, I have been eyeing. It is just a loan though."
"Why Mrs. Reid I didn't know you had a devious mind and a calculating heart."
"Oh Alan, you don't know women writers, we all have ulterior motives. We all do and it is time that you took notice. Come with me."
Alan Spaulding obediently trotted up the stairs after Holly. Soon the gas lamps turned down and the only sounds in the newsroom came from Tommy, the tomcat who was snoring.
The Marshall ended up going back to the hotel and passed out before going over to the boarding house. Michelle cried herself to sleep. Jesse ate two pies that Eleni made for tomorrow's potlatch social and fell asleep with cherry juice dripping down his chin. All was quiet in Dodge City until about 3 AM when all hell broke loose in the name of Beth Raines.
Three broodmares were stolen from Matt "Quint" Reardon's livery in the early morning and the marauders also stole Beth Raines, tied up her hands and gagged her and threw her on the back of a horse. The next morning, the townsfolk were going to be awful upset over the stolen horses. This was something that would soon unfold into the "Broodmare Incident."
Miss Michelle Bauer's Lesson for the Day
Bret Harte published "The Luck of Roaring Camp and Other Sketches," in 1870. The book was a compilation of yarns based on his years following the Gold Rush in California. He worked at this time as a journalist in San Francisco. This collection painted a picture of "uncouth frontier characters," to quote his own words. This set of stories established a set of stereotypes that helped define the myth of the American west.
In 1872, Samuel Clemens/Mark Twain published "Roughing It," a witty report of his adventures as an up-and-coming columnist in the west. This book added a self-conscious depth to the entertaining western myth pioneered by Twain's first journalism mentor, Mr. Bret Harte. Clemens worked with Harte in the early 1860s while the latter was editor for the "Californian." Harte and Clemens shared a common drive to succeed, entertain, and enlighten readers. Harte provided Clemens with the lessons to develop his sense of humor through writing and a natural easy flowing conversational style of writing. After the publication of Clemens 1872 book, the two became adversaries. In later years, Harte said Twain was a hack who wrote only to pay off his large bills and bad investments. He thought that Twain sold out by giving up his journalistic style in order to write dime store novels. Obviously, history has shined brighter on Twain's career than Harte's.
"Roughing It" is an autobiographical account of Mark Twain's early years as a journalist in the west. He spins his tales in an amusing travel writing style pitting the self-confident tourist against a setting that he both foolishly misreads yet as luck would have it also understands very well. The element of awkward sarcasm, rooted here in memory, would become the trademark of Clemen's best work in later years. Following the publication of his book in 1872, Samuel Clemens began to use the pseudonym, Mark Twain, exclusively. He found his voice through the expression of idiomatic phrases common to western society and through his varied descriptions of western landscapes.
