“Un Dios Feliz”
Tombstone, Arizona
Fall, 1889, Summer, 2007 & Winter, 2016 (c) Stu Jenks.
(From my e-book, The Transpersonal Papers)
Stony walked out of the whorehouse dissatisfied. He figured that might happen, but he went anyway. It’s just a little before midnight, and tomorrow is his 26th birthday. It’s been a good week at his claim. Good six months, actually. Anyway, he felt like giving himself a present and that present was Crystal. But while he was thrusting into her from behind, watching her breasts sway, he had a passing thought of Henrietta back home. He came quickly, gave Crystal a kiss on the cheek and paid her double her usual rate. Seemed rude that he had thought of Henrietta when he was inside of her. Crystal smiled and kissed him on the neck and told him to come back any time. She pinched him on the ass as he walked out the door.
He’d left Henrietta a year ago in the Valley of Virginia. She still lives with her widowed mother on those fifty-two acres they pretend is a farm. Singing in the church choir every Sunday, so said her letters. Wishing he would call for her, to board that train to Tucson, she written twice already. It just wasn’t time yet, he wrote back.
Henri turned every man’s head on the Saumsville Road when she took the wagon to town. The prettiest girl in the county. Top three at least. Bright smile and full lips, long blond hair the color of straw, cheeks like red apples, a body thin yet strong like a fence rail. The night before he left for Arizona he promised her that if he struck it rich, he’d send for her. They kissed each other long and hard on her front porch, their hands all over each other’s bodies, as if by touching everything, they would forget nothing. He’s made some good money now, but he hasn’t built a house yet. He needs to have that house built before he calls for her.
The muddy street’s filled with cowboys and miners, going from hotel to saloon, spending their week’s earnings on whores, poker and whiskey. The Full Moon’s almost directly overheard. He stops in the street and gazes up at the Moon, thinking about Henri and thinking all he really wants in the world, right now, was a hot bath. He turns and as he’s walking across the street toward the Chinese bathhouse, he hears his name called.
“Stony! Hey, Stony!”
He turns. It’s Merle Johnson. The luckiest, stupidest man in town. He’s also his best friend.
“Hey, Merle. How are you doing this evening?”
“Mighty fine. Hey, are you going to the The Grand tonight, to play cards?” Merle seems a bit agitated.
“I wasn’t planning on it,” says Stony.
Merle looks a little disappointed, then bites his lower lip. He does that when he’s thinking hard. What’s the big deal? He usually only goes to The Grand a couple times a week at most, not every night.
“Can I find someway to persuade you to come play poker with me tonight?” Merle asks.
“Merle, what going on?”
“Hell, Stony. Just come over to fucking Grand tonight, OK?”
“Just tell me what the fuck is going on. I need to get a bath and then I was thinking of turning in. Unless you got something special planned, I think I’ll pass.”
Merle bit his lower lip again, then smiled to himself and shook his head.
“Just like you, Stony, to spoil the fucking surprise. A bunch of us are waiting for you over there. Tomorrow is your fucking birthday, as if you didn’t know, and we thought we’d throw you a little surprise party. Both Bobbys are there, young Bobby Christiansen and old Bobby Lopez! Mexican Bobby came all the way from Fronteras, Stony, to celebrate your goddamn birthday.”
“Bobby Lopez is here in Tombstone?”
“Do I fucking lisp? Yes, Bobby Lopez is here. And Charlie McLean left his claim in Charleston for the night, to raise a drink to you, too.”
Stony’s mouth dropped open.
“Charlie came to town?” Charlie only came to town when he is down to his last pound of flour and his last jug of shine.
“Yes, yes, yes, you dumb cocksucker. Charlie’s here and Harry Wood has even closed up shop at the newspaper to see your birthday come in, and he’s brought Millie Benjamin with him too. And Karl Eisenfelder and his wife are there as well. God damn it, Stony! We’ve been waiting a fucking hour for you to come out of Madame Clarice’s.”
Merle bites his lip again.
“I suppose we could invite Crystal, couldn’t we? She is a whore but I don’t that hold against her, and I know you like her a lot,” says Merle.
Stony stood dead still in the middle of the thoroughfare. He looked at the bathhouse. He looked at the whorehouse. He looks down the street toward The Grand Hotel. Bobby Lopez stood on the front stoop of the hotel, his arms crossed, his sombrero silhouetted against the golden light coming from the hotel bar. Stony felt his eyes mist up. He smiled. I’ll be God damned. Bobby’s here.
He started walking toward the hotel when he heard a clap of thunder. Little late in the year for a monsoon. Then he stopped walking. He felt short of breath, and oddly warm and wet. He grabbed Merle’s shoulder to steady himself. He then looked down and saw the large red hole that was his stomach. He collapsed in the mud.
Next to the last thing he saw were the tears in Merle and Bobby’s eyes, as they looked down at him in the muddy thoroughfare. The Full Moon shone above their heads.
Then he saw a beautiful ball of purple light being born out of the Moon. The purple ball seemed to come down Fremont Street and surround him, engulf him in its light. He no longer saw Merle or Bobby’s faces. He no longer saw anything or anyone. He felt just fine. Fine for the first time in a long time. Then, suddenly, he was above Tombstone, flying in the night sky, heading fast and true, due east, toward the Valley of Virginia.
Comments