Chapter VII
A New Path
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Chapter I, Chapter II, Chapter III, Chapter IV, Chapter V, Chapter VI
Too much whiskey the night before. I stumbled out of bed with a big head and cotton mouth. The bar looked like hell; the whole world looked like hell. The smell of coffee came from the kitchen first made my stomach clutch, then growl. I walked over to the pot. Heinz was already up, but neither of us wanted any talking. No words; just him pouring me a cup and then handing it to me, with a slow nod of acknowledgment on my part. I took a sip. My body shook, rebelled, and then my taste buds stirred. Eggs. Bland and soft, with a little grease--I thought my stomach could handle that. I asked Heinz for a scramble and then went over to the bar to steady myself.
Now in the time I had known Asiago, he had been a pretty straitlaced fellow. Aside from liking frequent manicures and occasional whiskeys, he didn't seem to have any vices, and rarely did nothing beyond be polite and talk friendly. But the night with Jack and the four arrows must have done something to him. Maybe it was threatening to cut a man's balls off; maybe it was the history with Old Injun. Whatever it was, Asiago kept swallowing the whiskey until he left. From what I saw the next morning, the night hadn't ended with our drinking. Just as I was taking my first forkful of eggs, in walked Asiago, red eyed and bow-legged.
"Here comes 'Mr. Death Warmed Over,'" I muttered.
Asiago hobbled to a table. "Them eggs smell good. Any left."
"Heinz," I yelled, then grabbed my head. No answer, except the sound of eggs cracking.
"Well, I seen plenty of hangovers, but you got yourself a champion there, Mr. Cheese."
He lifted his head but had no clever remarks. "Looks like you went for more than a manicure last night."
He snarled: "I went to see Crystal, and she gave me some comfort; not that it is any of your business."
"No, guess it's not. Just that I never seen you like this. Mind if I sit down with you."
"It's your place," said Asiago, in less than welcoming tone.
Well it was my place so I sat down. Heinz brought me a second helping of eggs, and Asiago his first. Heinz also set two glasses down filled with a dark red liquid. "Drink it," he said. "It'll make you forget the shit in your mouth." I wasn't sure if he was referring to his eggs or the parch on my tongue.
Asiago and I both took a sip, then a bigger sip, then gulped the rest down. The concoction burned our insides back to life, and in a minute I could feel the lead leaving my brain. A few minutes from that, Asiago and I were back in civilization.
"What is that stuff, Heinz," asked Asiago, a good deal brighter.
"Best you don't know. If it doesn't kill you, it will make you feel better."
"Damn cold comfort," I said and we all managed to smile.
A pot of coffee later we were still talking but no one went over the events of the night before. Despite the miracles of the eggs and Heinz's potion, I think we were all afraid of straining our brains by tackling any complications. Weather and whiskey were the main topics, along with the cruelties they both drop on the human race. Suddenly, Asiago threw his head back.
"Where's Injun."
In the midst of our miseries and recoveries, we had missed a key part of the morning routine. Most mornings, Old Injun would come around just after the sunrise, pick up the place, and start the coffee. He was part of the rhythm of the place and we just kind of figured he was there even when he wasn't; at least until Asiago spoke up.
"Yeah, I made the coffee," said Heinz. "Maybe he is sleeping it off."
"Injun don't drink," I said. "Never seen him take a drop."
"Well," Heinz scratched his head, "maybe he's down at the Clapper."
"Not likely," I said. "I never known Injun to go whoring, and besides the ladies at the Clapper are particular."
"You mean they won't whore Indians?" asked Heinz.
"I don't know about that. But some of the ladies down at the Clapper are Sac-Fox, and won't consider having a poke with a Cheyenne."
"Kind of snooty for a whore, don't ya think," said Heinz, "particularly for an Indian whore. I mean an Indian is an Indian. What difference does it make to them, if the man can pay."
"Well," Asiago said, "when you got nothing, your tribe might seem pretty important. Whites aren't that much different. The English get sniffy about the Germans, the Germans about the Spanish and Italians, and they all don't hold the Irish in high regard. We're all tribes. Anyway, Injun wouldn't be at the Clapper. If he isn't here, something has pulled him away."
We sat silent for awhile, then Asiago pushed back his chair, got up, looked around, and walked back to the storeroom. A moment later, "Lilly"!
I ran back to the room. Asiago pointed to the floor. "Has that board always been cockeyed"?
"No," I answered. "A little creaky, maybe, but in place."
"Well, it's not in place now. When was the last time you were back here"?
"Yesterday afternoon I guess."
"Was the board in place, then"
"Yeah, or I would have fallen over it."
"Last night," Asiago said, "Isn't this where Old Injun came to get the arrows."
"Yeah. So what."
"He was hiding them under this board. He must have come back to get them last night."
"I didn't see him," I said.
"You wouldn't. And if the arrows are gone, he's gone." Asiago voice had changed; he was announcing grave news, though I couldn't put the pieces together.
"Where is he going to go," I asked.
"I don't know." Asiago shook his head. "But I got to find him. He is too old to be chasing history."
"What are you talking about, Asiago."
"I gotta go, Lilly."
To be continued.