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Short Stories & Tall Tales
Freckles in Love
By Ryan Bruner
I’s already in the bathhouse when Freckles comes in, gun on his hip, arms poised like he’s about to have a gun fight. Course, he ain’t never been in a gun fight in his life. He’s nineteen, but he carried himself like he’s in charge of his life with no one to stop him.”
“G’morning, boys,” he says, grinning like a man on tequila. “Time to get all gussied up. I got myself a date!”
Sven didn’t hesitate. He practically yanked him out of his clothes and pushes him into the tub next to mine.
”No need get yourself all spic-and-span to see one of them saloon girls, son,” I tell him, and drag a razor blade across my face. “They takes you any which way...so long as you pay.”
Freckles etched some dirt out from under his fingernails, happier than I ever seen any man. “Sheriff’s daughter,” he says.
I nearly sliced my neck open. “Marianne? You know what you’re getting yourself into, kid?”
”She’s as a pretty as a summer cactus, is all I know.”
”There’s more to love than a whole lotta pretty,” I says.
He nods his head, all knowin’-like and finishes his bath. In such a hurry, he don’t even bother to dry himself off before he’s back in his dusty old clothes tossing coins at Sven and riding off.
* * *
John Duggins tells me the boy’s an idiot. Course, John spits and slobbers all over himself when he says it. If anyone’s the idiot, it’s Duggins, but I ain’t never telling him that. He wiped the slobber from his chin before taking another drink. He’d had himself one too many drinks about two drinks ago.
”Max,” he says, “that kid ain’t know nothing about women, him going after the Sheriff’s daughter. He ain’t got no brains in that head of his.”
Dixie Lee winks at me from above, and as much as I’s tempted, I’s out of money to oblige her. “What you mean, he ain’t got no brains?” I says to Duggins. “He’s smart enough to catch a date with Marianne, he is.”
”That’s cause he comes from that highfalutin family. Rich as all get out. Besides, Sheriff ain’t never let anyone near his daughter before.”
”Never let you near her, ya mean.”
John don’t like that and pulls his gun on me. “I’m a good man,” he tells me. “I take care of my wife. Give her a roof over her head, put food on the table. Without me, she’s nothing.”
Which makes perfect sense, considerin’ Miss Dottie Duggins has tried to run away from John Duggins more times than I got fingers for.
”I ain’t arguing with you about that,” I says. No point in arguing with a man set in his ways. “I’m just saying, is all.”
He don’t holster his gun until he drains his mug. He sways this way and that, probably too drunk to even piss straight. He smiles up at Dixie Lee and tips his hat, then staggers his way up the stairs. Dixie ain’t too pleased about it though and tries to pull away, but he’s got a fistful of coins and drops them into her bosom. She gives in and they disappear together.
* * *
John was tellin’ the truth about Freckles, though. As a kid, Freckles nearly suffocated helping his father dig a well. Mr. Eckles managed to get him out, but he ain’t never been the same again. Wants to be a man, but is as gentle as a feedin’ dove. I’s riding down to Gulliver’s Creek when I seen him trying to talk a head of cattle out from the stream. “Come here, girl,” he says. “I got some flowers for ya.”
Sure enough, he’s holding out a bunch of daisies. Weird thing is, it works. The cow meanders itself across the water and muches off the petals.
“Howdy,” I says to Freckles.
He tips his hat my way.
“Mornin’, Max."
“Mornin’ Frank.”
See, his name wasn’t actually Freckles. Course, everyone called him Freckles. But there wasn’t a freckle to be seen anywhere on him. No, he was named after his father, Mr. Frank Rolland Eckles, owner of the largest cattle ranch in the state.
“So,” I says. “How’d that date for your with Marianne go?”
Freckles shook his head and frowned. “Never made it. Had to rescue someone even prettier.”
“A lady?”
“Yep. Brought her back to my pa’s place ’til we figure out what to do.”
“Who is she? Why she need rescuing?”
“She’s running away from home, see. Got herself lost in the canyon, and tries to make it down the side. You imagine it? A girl all dressed up in her dress like that, climbing the side of a cliff? But she does it, trying to get away. But then she slips and falls. Must have been an angel there to catch her, though, cause when I found her, she’d landed on a ledge barely big enough for a small child. She’s there I don’t know how long until I hear her calling out for help. Course, what I supposed to do? I’s all cleaned up for my date with Marianne, but I had no choice. Got myself filthy, but I managed to lower a rope to her and hoist her up.”
He gets this glint in his eye. I knew that look a mile away, I did. Freckles was in love.
“She’s pretty banged up,” he went on. “But nothing broken. Wouldn’t let me call no doctor. She said the doctor’d only tell her husband where she run off to, and that’d be no good for anyone. So, Pa’s keeping her safe. Ma’s taking care of her.”
“She’s married?”
He nods.
“Son, you don’t know the headache you’re causing yourself. That’s Dottie Duggins!”
“Sure is.”
“Her husband won’t take kindly to anyone helping her run away.”
I don’t think he understood, though. Dottie Duggins took to runnin’ away every time she found out about John’s philandering, or anytime he started hitting her, which was just about once a week. She always come back to him. No place for her to go in these parts. Not without a horseand John Duggins only got the one. Freckles shrugged it off, though, and I got this nervous knot in my gut. I’s involved now, and I didn’t like it. I couldn’t lie to John Duggins if he found out I knew something. He might come and shoot me in the leg. He’s done a lot worse for far less.
“I promised Miss Dottie I’d protect her, and that’s what I’m gonna do.”
* * *
Sheriff Wilcox was talking to John Duggins when I rode into town next morning. John’s furious, his hand itchin’ to grab his pistol and shoot something. Or some one.
“You find the bastard who did this,” he says.
I try to head to the saloon without them noticin’ me, which was just plain foolishness on my part.
“Max!” Sheriff says.
“Yes’um?” I says. I ease closer trying to stay calm, but I’s as skittish as a spooked horse.
“Mr. Duggins, here, tells me that Mrs. Duggins is missing again.”
“Again? Third time this month, isn’t it, John?”
Duggins glares at me, and I wonder if Old Paint’s fast enough to beat out John’s trigger finger.
“He says he found some of her things at the bottom of Grafton’s Canyon, and a rope at the top, not attached to anything. Which means, someone must have fished her out of there.”
Seems weird to me that a man would leave his rope behind, but then John Duggins squinted at me, like he’s aiming to scare the truth out of me. I’s torn. Concerned for my own life, sure. But also the life of Freckles, and even Miss Dottie. She’d end up punished for running off, but she’d live, I’s sure. No way Duggins would risk losing his wife, not after now much he paid for her. He’d beat her bad enough to keep her from runnin’ away again, though. At least for a few weeks.
“You know something,” John says. “Don’t you?”
I wanted to shake my head, scoff at the idea, but I takes too long. I’m no good at lyin’, so I tell the truth. “Freckles saved her life,” I said. “Said she was pretty beat up”
“I didn’t touch her,” John spat out, pitching a glance to Sheriff Wilcox. That’s because Sheriff Wilcox’s sensitive about a man beating a girl, after what happened to Marianne.
“Well I didn’t say you did,” I says. “She fell, see? And Freckles came and rescued her.”
Sheriff Wilcox seemed satisfied, slapping Duggins on the back. “See there?” he says. “She’s fine. Nothing to get yourself all worked up about.”
“Is that all?” I said. I’s sweatin’ clear down to my trousers.
Then the Sheriff looked at me all funny-like. “Why was Freckles over near Grafton’s Canyon, anyhow? He was supposed to be on his way to see my Marianne.”
Good question, I thought. Never occurred to me. Opposite directions, really. So I shrugged.
Duggins didn’t like no mention of Marianne. He’d always wanted her for himself, but settled on Dottie, his mail-order bride, when he knew there was no getting around the Sheriff in order to get to her. Duggins kicked up some dirt like an angry horse, sayin’ nothing.
“Well,” Sheriff Wilcox says. “How about we all take a ride out to the Eckles ranch and set our minds at ease.”
* * *
When FrankFrank the firstcomes to the door, he nods politely to each of us. His gaze lingers on Duggins before he says, “Sheriff.”
“Howdy, Frank. Good day to you.”
It seemed John was right again. Educated folks like Mr. Eckles and the good Sheriff treated each other far more kindly than us regular folk. They showed respect and got respect, which is probably why Sheriff Wilcox allowed Freckles to date Marianne to begin with.
Eckles stepped out onto the front porch and says, “Is there something I can do for you?”
“We’re looking for your son,” Sheriff says. “We want to talk to him.”
Freckles called out just then from behind. “You can’t have her back,” he says. “I won’t let you hurt her again.”
Duggins spun around, drawin’ his gun. Sheriff Wilcox grabs at his arm, but it fires, kicking up the dust at Freckles feet. “Dang it,” John says. “You done heard him. He’s messin’ with my wife!”
“I done no such thing,” Freckles says. “I ain’t done no messin’.”
John tried to wrestle his gun from the Sheriff, but eventually he gives up and shoves it back into his holster looking like a kid caught sneaking candy from Old Man Travis.
“She don’t love you,” Freckles says.
“She ain’t got to love me,” Duggins says. “But she’s mine, all the same.”
“You don’t love her,” Freckles says.
“What’s love got to do with any of it?” Duggins says. “I ain’t got a wife to love. I got me a wife to do what I says. She agreed to do what I says when she signed that marriage license.”
“I’m afraid,” Sheriff says, “Mr. Duggins is right. He’s no idiot.”
Freckles shrugs and says, “No gentleman should ever treat a lady that way.”
“Frank?” Sheriff says. “Why were you at Grafton’s Canyon instead of on your way to my house?”
Freckles paused, standing taller, about to say something. Something stupid, by the looks of him. Mr. Eckles noticed, too, and interrupted.
“I sent him,” he says.
“That’s not true,” Freckles said. The poor kid was just aimin’ to die young. “I...I love her.”
At that, John Duggins slammed into the Sheriff, knockin’ him clear through the porch rail, and pulled his gun again. He fired, but Freckles was quicker than a rabbit chased by a coyote. He jumped out of the way, running for the cover of a tree. John fired again and again, splintering the tree.
The Sheriff manages to get himself up, pulling his gun on Duggins. “Put it down,” he says.
Duggins freezes. “Dang it, Sheriff. You heard the man. He’s messin’ with my wife!”
“No, I’m not!” Freckles yelled from behind the tree. “I ain’t never messed with anyone in my life. I’m respectable.”
“Nevertheless, son,” Sheriff says, “you’re talking about kidnapping.”
“Miss Dottie ain’t no kid. She’s a lady.”
“She’s my wife!” John says.
“Put the gun down, John,” Sheriff says. “We’ll settle this like gentlemen.”
This shocks me. Gentlemen fights were illegal. Why any law-enforcing sheriff like Sheriff Wilcox would suggest such a thing, I couldn’t fathom.
John’s stubborn at first. As Freckles peeked out from behind the tree, I could see John was still itchin’ to pull the trigger. But eventually, he lowered his gun and smiled. “Gun fight,” he says.
* * *
Mr. Eckles wasn’t a bettin’ man, and didn’t take kindly to the Sheriff’s willingness to gamble his son’s life. “He never shot another person in his life,” he says. “He’s no match against John Duggins.”
Sheriff smiled. “The good Lord gave victory to David over Goliath, didn’t he? Five stones, and all it took was one.”
Freckles didn’t seem like no David to me. Not in a gun fight with John Duggins. But Sheriff seemed almost insistent. Said it was John’s right, given the circumstances. A wife is nobody’s business but her husband’s, and Freckles broke that sacred covenant. Or something like that. Sheriff said it prettier than me. Still, I couldn’t see how anyone could rightfully be on John’s side. Seemed to me the Sheriff was scared of him, too.
Sheriff set the rules. He prepped the guns, paced out their positions, and said if either of them fired before their time, he’d shoot ’em his self. Had his gun at the ready, just to be sure. Freckles stood like he did that day at the bathhouse, arms ready for something he ain’t never done. Course, his face was as pale as Miss Dixie Lee’s undergarments.
“Max?” Sheriff says to me, taking a position across the way. “I want you to tell them when. Okay?”
I nodded, but hated all of this. Wasn’t supposed to be involved.
“Ready?” I says, then wait. Maybe there was another way. Freckles was a good boy. All he had to do was give in. Say he was wrong. Sheriff was being crazy. But no one stopped me. I swallowed and said, “Draw!”
That’s all it took, and it was over. Bang, and Freckles was...well, he was fine. Just stood there, gun out, aimed at Duggins, while Duggins was bleeding from his hand. His gun was on the ground. Freckles stared at his own gun as though he wasn’t sure how it got there.
“Guess that settles it,” Sheriff said.
“You done shot my shootin’ hand!” John says.
“You can put your gun away now, son,” Sheriff says to Freckles.
He does, too. Shoves it into his holster and runs clear toward the house. John’s real angry now, picks up his gun with his bad hand and goes to shoot Freckles coward-like. But Sheriff beat him, fires off a shot.
Duggins was dead.
* * *
“G’morning, boys,” Freckles says, grinning like a man on tequila. Again. “Time to get all gussied up. I got to look good for my bride.”
Sven yanked him out of his clothes, and pushes him into the tub next to mine. “Heard how you beat Duggins,” Sven says. “Max, here, was just telling us.”
“Wasn’t me,” Freckles said, then dunks his head into the water.
“What ya mean?” I said. “I saw you. You got him, fair and square.”
Freckles shook the water from his face. “I ain’t never shot anyone in my life.”
Poor kid had gone mad. Or maybe he just couldn’t remember, being an idiot and all. John Duggins had been right about that. John Duggins, it seemed, had been right about a lot of things.
“So, what happened, then?” Sven asked.
“Don’t know,” he said and shrugged. “Pistol was empty. No bullets.”
No bullets?
“But I thought the Sheriff prepped your gun,” I says. Then it dawns on me. Ain’t no one ever beat John Duggins in a gun fight. “Did you really have a date with Marianne?”
Freckles laughs at this. “Sheriff won’t let no one date Marianne. No one. It was just a cover.”
“Not a very good one,” I tells him.
“I don’t care,” he says. “Miss Dottie and me love each other. We’re gettin’ married today, so it all worked out.”
Later, at the weddin’, Sheriff was there with Marianne. Pretty little thing, except for the scar on her cheek. Never thought much about that scar. Never thought much about the reason Sheriff wouldn’t let no one date Marianne. She’s old enough. But there she was, stuck to her father’s arm like a porcupine quill to a dog’s nose.
“Sheriff,” I says, nodding politely like Mr. Eckles.
“Max,” he nods back.
“Curious thing,” I says. “Freckles tells me there weren’t no bullets in his gun.”
“Really?” he says. “A bit of a miracle, then, it seems.”
“A miracle, thank the Lord,” I says. “Especially after what John did to Marianne.”
Sheriff Wilcox ain’t so much as flinch. I figured as much. But Marianne? I’s right about it, and she looks uncomfortable enough to go searchin’ for the out house.
“I don’t know what you mean,” he says.
“Dueling’s illegal in these parts,” I say. “No way you’d allow two men to duel like that, would ya? And there ain’t no way Freckles could have pulled his gun against John Duggins. Which means Freckles wasn’t the one who shot John Duggins in the hand, was he?”
He smiles.
Freckles and Miss Dottie hop around like little sparrows, holdin’ hands and kissin’. Seems everything worked out, I suppose.
“Freckles in love,” he says to me. “He deserves it. And Miss Dottie looks happy, too.”
“So do you,” I says. “So do you.”
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