Holmes on the Range by Steve Hockensmith

Author:Steve Hockensmith [Hockensmith, Steve]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Fiction, Mystery & Detective, Historical, Westerns
ISBN: 9780312347802
Google: ggE3VLUd9EcC
Barnesnoble:
Goodreads: 1896744
Publisher: Minotaur Books
Published: 2006-02-06T16:00:00+00:00

Twenty-one

FRIENDS AND FOES

Or, We Separate the Men from the Hornet’s Nest Boys

As we walked toward the corral, I saw that Tall John and Crazymouth were the lucky hands that day. They were the ones on horseback, leaving Anytime and Swivel-Eye to smear oil and acid on the latest batch of maggots.

So it was only natural that Anytime and Swivel-Eye should look about as pleased as a fellow who’s fallen face-first into a dung heap. And yet they looked even more disgusted when they glanced up and saw us.

“Well, ain’t this a surprise,” Anytime said. “Big Red and Old Red comin’ round when there’s real work to be done. I thought they’d still be off playin’ Sheerluck Jones or Morecock Bones or whatever the hell that feller’s called.”

“Sherlock ‘olmes,” Crazymouth said.

Anytime nodded. “That’s the one. Holmes. I’d forgotten all about that dandified fraud till Old Red here started puttin’ on airs.”

Tall John rode toward us as we came in through the gate. “Maybe we oughta stop callin’ him Old Red and start callin’ him Old Holmes.”

“Or Little Sherlock,” Anytime suggested.

“Or the Sherlock Kid,” Tall John shot back, fighting giggles.

“Yeah, that’s it—the Sherlock Kid,” Anytime snorted. “Fastest Brain in the West.”

“If you’re lookin’ for fancy new ways to goldbrick!” Tall John said, his tittering turning to outright guffaws.

Swivel-Eye and Crazymouth watched silently, neither joining in the hilarity nor taking issue with it.

Gustav didn’t have much of a reaction, either. In fact, he didn’t so much as blink. Before that day, such mockery could’ve shriveled him up like a prune. But being a genuine consulting detective—at least for the moment—seemed to make insults irrelevant. They wouldn’t help him crack his mystery, so they just slid off his ears like water over an otter’s ass.

I wasn’t immune to all the japing and jeering, however. But the air of purposeful calm that surrounded my brother seemed to reach out and wrap itself around me, and I managed to resist the temptation to grab Tall John and Anytime by the neck and play their heads like maracas.

“Is that what you think?” Old Red said, turning to Crazymouth. “Sherlock Holmes is a fraud, and I’m a goldbricker?”

The English drover ambled his mount closer, looking first at Old Red, then at Anytime and Tall John, then back at Old Red.

“No,” he finally said. “I gave Blighty the dodge five years ago, and you wouldn’t find ‘olmes in the fish-and-chips then. But you’d hear of ‘im if you knew the wrong people. I ‘ad friends in low places in them days, and more than one ended up in gaol thanks to that geezer. So he ain’t any kind of fraud, I can vouch you that.”

Crazymouth tipped back his hat and squinted at Old Red for a moment before continuing.

“As for you, you ain’t lazy. Crazy maybe, but not lazy. If you want to stick your neck in the gander, mate. . .well, I’ll wish you a drake, that’s all.”

Gustav turned his gaze on Swivel-Eye. “What do you think?”

Swivel-Eye nodded at Crazymouth.

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