Disclaimer: The characters in this story belong to Rysher Entertainment and are used without permission. This story is not for profit, and no copyright infringement is intended. The original content of this story is my fault, and I take full responsibility for it. Please do not use any of it (and why would you want to) without permission.
Author's Notes:
The character of Maria Bennett is the creation of Darcie Daniels and is used with her permission.
~~~
Call sniffed loudly and wiped his nose on a filthy sleeve. His lovely blue eyes filled with tears. This was all Maria's fault, he reckoned -- that day on the prairie -- it was yet another one of Maria's misadventures. Hannah's cousin had taken a liking to Call soon after her arrival in Curtis Wells and was known to dog his footsteps, much to the bounty hunter's annoyance. Last week she had insisted that he accompany her on a wildflower-picking excursion. In the face of extreme pressure and against his better judgment, he had finally given in, and Maria's joy had known no bounds.
The wealth of early spring Yellow Bells, Shooting Stars, and Prairie Smoke they found sent Maria into realms of delight as she darted about, picking first one variety and then another, but always when he suggested that they return to town, she would find another flower, as yet ungathered, to add to her burgeoning bouquet.
That aside, it had gone fairly well until she saw the Blue Mugwort -- at least that was what she called it. (Call thought it was Stink Weed.) Maria had dropped all of her other prized blossoms and gathered great armfuls of it, bringing it to Call and holding it up for his inspection.
"Oh, Newton, just look at it -- it's such a lovely shade of blue -- it just matches your eyes! And what a lovely fragrance it gives off! Here, smell it; DRINK it in!"
And before he could fend her off, it had happened. "Achoo! Achoo! AH-CHOOOO!! And Call had been sneezing ever since.
He had already had enough advice from everyone to fill several medical volumes. Mattie had seen his red nose and told him to see Dr. Cleese, because there was most likely mucous and phlegm and who knew what manner of evil in his sinuses. Call had shrugged and grimaced and flatly refused to do it.
Then Unbob had stopped him and offered to let him sleep with his pigs, because his parents had cured his brother, Bob, of the Croup that way when they were children. At least, that's what Unbob claimed. Call thanked the simple man politely, but he had no plans to take him up on his generous offer.
Luther claimed that a night of unfettered fun at Twyla's pleasure palace would cure him of what ailed him, and Call had accompanied him to the whorehouse. But when Twyla met them at the door and ushered them inside with a sweep of her feather boa, all had been lost.
No mistake about it, Call was downright miserable. He couldn't abide the perfume Twyla's girls wore and would cross over to the other side of the street when he saw any one of them approaching. And as for paying Florie a visit, well, there was absolutely NO chance of that.
Call had tried to content himself with Enona. After all, he quite liked his women with the scent of wind and grass in their hair. But their latest tryst in the hayloft had proved to be an unqualified disaster. He knew he would have to stay out of the loft all that dust!
Austin had been snickering at him all week, and Josiah was consulting the good book because he thought Newt might be possessed of a demon! Now, as we all know, it ain't easy gettin' rid of demons, but Call didn't really think that was the problem.
By now, everyone in town was starting to give him a wide berth; and to add insult to injury, Amanda was requesting that he take his meals someplace else besides the hotel dining room, because she was afraid he was going to infect her customers with some hideous disease!
He had even had to give up bounty hunting for the time being. It seemed like every time he got the drop on some ornery sidewinder and was about to squeeze the trigger, he'd sneeze; and the gun would go off prematurely, ricocheting off the canyon walls and giving his prey plenty of time to make a clean get-away before he could recover.
Call wandered down the street disconsolately and plopped down on his bench to think, but painful memories assailed him. Why, just yesterday he'd sneezed violently while cleaning his big gun, and it had gone off, shooting Ike in the foot. All he could do was shrug, "Sorry, Ike."
Ike had hobbled off down the boardwalk muttering to himself about people who insisted on cleaning their weapons on the street.
Mosby, who had witnessed the spectacle, was quick to point out, "You're a public menace, Call. You'd best do somethin' about that hay fever. Can't have you shootin' my deputies, now can I?"
Call had scowled at the town proprietor. Mosby's cologne made him sneeze, and it was difficult to keep an eye on him and glare at him while his eyes were watering. Curse the rotten luck!
Things were really getting out of hand.
Finally, Call made a desperate visit to Doc Cleese and prevailed upon the little physician to heal him.
"Yes, it's hay fever that's afflicting you, Mr. Call. But I'm afraid this is not Maria's fault -- at least not directly. My suspicions are that you are allergic to yourself. You're covered in dust, and dirt, and grime, and now there's pollen in the mix. It's a bad combination. You are going to have to take a bath and clean yourself up a little. I'm talking about clean clothes too, do you understand me? That's the only remedy I can prescribe."
Alas! This was NOT what Call wanted to hear. It was not yet time for him to make a trek to Lau's for his annual bath. He was still sitting on his bench brooding about this when Maria happened upon him. The very sight of her made him start to wheeze.
"Hello, Newton, I've brought you some clean handkerchiefs," she said with trepidation. She knew that Call held her responsible for the shape he was in. It made her feel very sad, but she did not know what she could offer him besides sympathy and clean handkerchiefs. She held them out to him, but he merely sniffed at her and refused to take them. Maria sighed and sat down beside him on his bench. She thought it might help if she read to him to take his mind off things.
"I've also brought you some of Mr. William Shakespeare's Sonnets, Newton. I'll read one out loud to you; I know it will make you feel much better. I think you'll like number eighteen -- it's one of my favorites."
Call looked at her suspiciously, but he didn't reply.
"Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?" she began. "Thou art more lovely and more temperate. Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May, and summer's lease hath all too short a date."
Newton's eyes were closed, and it was difficult to tell what effect, if any, the verse was having on him.
She continued, "Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines, and often is his gold complexion dimmed."
Maria ventured a peek at Call, but he remained motionless, and that gave her the courage to go on to the end.
"So long as men can breathe or eyes can see, so long lives this, and this gives life to thee," she finished and shut the book.
By now tears were running down Call's face, whether from hay fever or emotion it was difficult to tell. She preferred to think it was the latter.
"Oh, Newton, I'm so glad you were touched by Mr. Shakespeare's sonnet. His words are so beautiful, aren't they?"
"Achoo! Maria, get out of here and leave me be. Now git! Ach-oooooo!!"
Maria left her blood brother reluctantly, with many a sympathetic backward glance.
By the next morning, Call had had about all that he could stand, and he decided that a visit to the Indian encampment was his best and only hope. Red Crow met him as he dismounted, and they took a walk on the prairie together. Call pointed out the blue flowering plant that Maria had thrust at him. Red Crow seemed to be familiar with it.
"It is called Psa-pi-pa-zi-hu-ta. My people use this plant to drive out the evil spirits. There must be something evil inside you that needs to come out."
"Well, it oughta be out by now," Call wheezed. "You got a plant that stops sneezin'?"
Red Crow smiled. "Come with me," he told the bounty hunter.
Call trusted the Indian Medicine Man. Those Willow shoots he had given him to chew on a few months back had cured him of his toothache in short order.
Inside the sweat lodge, Red Crow treated Call with a whole arsenal of medicinal plants: Stinging Nettle, Mullein, Skunk Cabbage, etc., and it wasn't long before he was feeling much better. Red Crow assured him that the blooming season of Psa-pi-pa-zi-hu-ta was short and would soon be over. He gave Call some herbs to take with him, and the bounty hunter headed back to Curtis Wells feeling like a new man.
Now, I wish I could report that Call got rid of all his demons, but unfortunately, that wasn't the case. He still had town proprietors to glare at, he still couldn't get it together with Mattie, and he still had Maria to contend with.
But the good news is, he got out of taking that bath!
The End
3/2003
Author's Note:
According to Plains Indian tradition, sneezing is sometimes believed to cleanse the body of certain ailments, and specific medicines have occasionally been inhaled to induce sneezing. One of these medicines is Psa-pi-pa-zi-hu-ta or Sneeze Root. I do not know if it has a blue flower. <g>
