Dead Man’s Hand by John Joseph Adams

Author:John Joseph Adams [Adams, John Joseph]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Titan Books
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

STRONG MEDICINE

TAD WILLIAMS

Medicine Dance, Arizona Territory, 1899

It was late afternoon, but it had rained the night before and the scent of creosote bushes still hung in the air. Lost Angel Mesa loomed behind the town, its eastern flank shadowed sage-purple. I stopped first at the graveyard on the edge of town to pay my respects, then I hoisted my trunk onto my shoulder and walked down Fore Street toward the Carnation Hotel. I had a feeling that’s where people would be on the day before Midsummer, and I didn’t want to seem like I was trying to sneak into town.

Of course, Sheriff Hayslip didn’t recognize me at first, but he and the other men gathered around the hotel bar certainly noticed that a stranger had walked in. As I lowered the trunk to the dusty floor, they all looked me over.

“What brings you to Medicine Dance, stranger?” the bartender asked. He didn’t sound like he was asking out of pure neighborly friendliness, but under the circumstances I didn’t really blame him.

“Just visiting,” I said.

“Don’t get many visitors,” another man said, a brush-bearded fellow who looked like he’d never got over the disappointment of being a couple of decades late for the Civil War. “Don’t particularly want any, either.” A few of the others grunted in agreement.

The sheriff was examining me. His paunch and thick mustache made him a bit hard to recognize, but I finally found the youthful face beneath all that unfamiliar window-dressing. He seemed to catch on to something too, because when I met his gaze his eyes widened, then he nodded slowly. “You’ve been here before, ain’t ya?”

“A while back.”

“Long while.” Hayslip nodded his head. “I remember. You’ll be needing a place to stay, then. Neddie, you finished with your drink?”

A slender young man sitting nearby stopped staring at me to turn to the sheriff. The irritated crease on his forehead suggested he didn’t like being asked, but it could be he just didn’t like being called “Neddie.” “Uh, yes, sir, I reckon so.”

“Why don’t you take this gentleman over to the Widow Denslow’s. She’s got plenty of room.”

The young man looked surprised, maybe even a bit alarmed. “Denslow’s? You sure?”

Hayslip dropped one right into the spittoon from three feet away. “’Course I am. I know this gentleman—he’s been in town before. He’s all right.” He looked at me. “You take care, now.”

The young fellow shrugged and got up. He wore a gun on one hip, but his holster looked brand new. He eyed my trunk. “You want some help with that?” He bent and grabbed one handle, then lifted. He didn’t lift it far before he whistled in surprise and let it thump back down. “Heavy!”

“I’ve got it.” I hefted it up onto my shoulder, making a show of effort.

“Where’s your horse?” the young man asked as we walked out of the hotel. “Even better, you got a wagon, or you gonna carry that box of anvils all the way out to the Denslow place?”

“Don’t have a wagon.

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