The stranger came up sputtering. Damn, that water was cold! Even though it was mid April, he'd broken ice going in. What kind of town was this, anyways? All he'd done was ask for a bite of breakfast. Next thing he knew the tall woman had grabbed up that rifle and backed him right to the wall. Then the blonde one, the one dressed like a man, had seized him by the collar, and together they had given him an unceremonious trip down the main street, culminating in a frigid bath in this trough.
"Now, see here, Missy," he started to say.
"Don't you missy me!" The tall woman spat at him. Her blue eyes snapped. "We don't cotton to the likes of you round here. I don't like strangers coming into my hotel begging." She kept the rifle leveled at his chest as she spoke. He would have liked to exit the trough, but he thought perhaps the wisest course of action would be to keep his hands raised, where she could see them.
"I was aimin t' work fer it," he started to explain. "I can wash dishes."
"Like Hell!" the tall woman exploded, "As if I'd let you touch my good china that I sent all the way to San Francisco for? You're the fourth freeloader I've had this week. And that's four too many."
Some other folk had started to gather round. One of them, a tall man with a badge turned and addressed a disheveled fellow in a dirty, fringed jacket, who had just sauntered up to the group.
"Why didn't you step in, Call?"
The other man shrugged. "You're the law around here, Austin, as you're fond of remindin' us. Figured you could handle it. Ain't my business."
"Still, I think you could have showed more concern for the women folk."
He glanced meaningfully at the blonde woman who stared back at him resentfully.
"Things are hard enough around here without men taking advantage," she said. She also directed a glare in the direction of the man in the fringed coat.
The unkempt one shrugged again and moved off across the street. The stranger saw that he sat on a nearby bench. But he kept an eye on the proceedings from that vantage point.
"He's vermin. Lock him up, Austin," said an older gray haired man. "We need to keep riff raff like him off the streets of Curtis Wells."
"Be quiet, Father, I'll handle this," the sheriff replied.
"Well, how 'bout it, Sheriff, you gonna lock him up?" the tall woman asked. She lowered her weapon, and the stranger climbed out of the freezing water. His limbs were terribly stiff, and he had begun to shake violently.
"The man committed no crime just by begging, Amanda. I can't lock him up for that."
Noticing movement on a balcony above the street, the stranger looked up to find a well-built dark-haired man gazing down at them. He was smoking a cigar.
"What seems to be the trouble, Sheriff?" the man drawled in a decidedly Southern accent. "I thought I was payin' you to keep the peace in my town." He muttered something under his breath, turned, and entered the building.
The sheriff grimaced. Then without further ado, he trundled the stranger down the street to the jail. The others returned to their previous occupations.
Inside the jail, the stranger asked the sheriff for a blanket.
"Name's Sheriff Peale," he responded, throwing some dirty rags to the stranger, who dried off as best he could with the meager offering.
"I don't suppose you could get me something to eat, Sheriff Peale?" he asked hopefully.
"Nope, food costs money. I'm not in the business of giving handouts." The sheriff rifled through a stack of wanted posters to see if the stranger was a wanted man or just an unwanted vagrant. "That beat up old nag at the livery belong t' you?" he asked finally.
The stranger nodded. He rubbed his hands together and blew on them. Sheriff Peale didn't have a fire going in the stove.
"Best be headin' out then; there's nothin' for you here."
The stranger trudged dejectedly down the street. He didn't know when he'd been so down on his luck. Things had been going badly of late; though he didn't usually receive as chilly a reception as he had in this town.
When he reached the livery, he was surprised to find a tall thin man in overalls feeding his mount a carrot. The mare had been brushed, and at her feet was a small pile of fresh hay.
"Who're you?"
"My name's Unbob. See, she likes me." The mare was rubbing her head against the man's shoulder almost knocking him over in her enthusiasm. "I like her too," he said smiling.
"Got any more o' them carrots?" the stranger asked Unbob.
Unbob produced several more and handed them over. He also pulled out two apples and fed one to the mare. The second one he gave to the stranger. The mare went back to munching her hay. The stranger waited till she had finished, then he led her outside and mounted up. As he started to head out, he reined in, and turned back to Unbob.
"Thanks, mister," he said.
Unbob grinned and waved.
The stranger was amazed at how the man's simple act had heartened him. "Maybe things ain't so bad after all," he thought to himself. The sun was showing some strength, and his clothes had begun to dry. "Maybe I can find work in Miles City."
With that the stranger turned and rode out of Curtis Wells.
The End
8/2001
