Unbury Carol(67)

What people don’t know is why Moxie was facing Daniel Prouds in the first place. And don’t you know that’s the least interesting color of the yarn. But it helps shed light ’cause once you get the idea that Prouds was a sack of pig-shit you don’t care about fair fights or the rules of engagement and all you wanna hear is how someone like Moxie came in and skinned the swine. Down in Pruetville a man tells me James Moxie wasn’t a good outlaw ’cause he didn’t kill enough to count. I told him I was under the impression Moxie done lived off his outlawing for some eleven years and if that ain’t good work, you’ve got your facts twisted. He said I was right, but then he said magic doesn’t count. I laughed then and I laugh now. Magic most certainly counts. And in the case of James Moxie and Daniel Prouds, magic happened, though I know it weren’t the type that man and most men imply.

The magic is in Moxie’s brain. ’Cause the idea to do what he done didn’t exist until it did. Presto. And how do you explain that?

Moxie and I were on a cross-country crime spree when our horses stepped over the Abberstown border. Ignorant as it was, we saw ourselves as vigilantes, spirit-riders on the Trail who put it good to the pig-shitters of the world. I’m not saying we were the good guys, but there’s no questioning whether or not James Moxie and myself were on the opposite side of the coin as that throat-slitter shitter Daniel Prouds.

Nobody knew our names yet in them days and we used them freely. Down the road Moxie would have to pretend to be someone he wasn’t and I think all that got to him ’cause he stopped wanting to talk about it. But when we first crossed into Abberstown I introduced myself as Jefferson and James introduced himself as James. The town was even more alive then than it is now and we rode Main Street with fire in our hearts for we knew we weren’t getting out of there without some fun. You can tell with the bigger towns. Albert’s Port and Donner ain’t no fun. Neither is Kellytown. Never had no fun in any of them places. But Griggsville…Harrows, too…and most definitely Abberstown…now, these are the places a man beneath the law can scoop something up nobody else noticed ’cause everybody else was busy scooping their own. I laugh now remembering Moxie tipping his hat to a lawman who passed us upon entering. He done tipped his hat and said, ‘Afternoon, Officer,’ before muttering ‘You’re gonna come looking for us later’ under his breath.

We were an exciting duo, the sort of fellows outlaws could recognize at a glance. Not because we were wanted, though we were, but because like kind recognizes like kind. Like vampires, understand, or drunks: An outlaw can see himself reflected in the eyes of another, no matter how black or gray his heart may be. We seen a couple upon entering and they seen us. Men outside the tavern. Men at the hitching post out front of the bawdy house.

But neither of us saw Daniel Prouds until we started to drinking at a place they used to call Leonard’s Barnburner ’cause his theme was fire and his ladies set drinks aflame. Back then I brought some books with me on the Trail. There were a heap of lonely nights by the fire, understand, and I defy anyone to name a man I rode with who didn’t eventually ask me what went on inside them. Now, I don’t recall the exact volumes I had on me, but I carried them with me into Leonard’s lest a rapscallion come nab ’em from my horse.

I’d no way of knowing that a routine gesture like that, just bringing in my books, would spark the single most interesting moment in outlawing history thus far.

Moxie and I done drank three beers apiece ’fore I mentioned to him we had no way of paying for what we drunk. He shrugged and reminded me we done drank many times without knowing who was paying. So we ordered another and watched as the ladies set our neighbors’ drinks aflame. It was like a wedding in there, people were having so much fun. ‘We gotta come to Abberstown more often,’ Moxie said. But we never went back through there again.

Another round and Moxie suggested we see what else the town had going for it. I told him we’d be in trouble if we didn’t pay and then planned on staying in town. Moxie thought I was right but gave me no good plan. I told him we could trade in my books for the beer. He told me I liked my books and shouldn’t have to part with them. I told him I done read them all three and wouldn’t mind and I’d just as soon get some more in Kellytown. He shrugged and said it was my decision but he’d like to help sell ’em. We were young, understand, not so young that we were stupid but young enough to think trading books for beer was equal and fair.

Moxie took my stack and crossed the room and stood next to a table of well-dressed gentlemen and asked if they’d like three leather-bound good books if they’d buy us our beers. The men laughed and Moxie did, too, and then he brought the stack to another table and soon the place was all shouting out about the men with the books but no money for beer. Moxie was pure then, not yet tarnished by his own name, and he went to just about every table in the joint and by the last couple was plopping himself in chairs along with the Abberstowners and going into a routine that had us all laughing. I could tell we were gonna get our drinks paid for and Moxie gave me a wink, letting me know I’d come up with a good plan. And it worked. Sort of it did. An elderly man seated at the bar called out, ‘Hear hear, I’d like a look at them books.’ Moxie got to his feet and carried them o’er to him and the man brought out his specs and examined their spines. ‘These are good titles,’ he said, and I answered, ‘I know they are.’ ‘Haven’t seen this one in some five years,’ he said. ‘I got her in Ecksburg,’ I told him. He looked me over like I might have taken it as opposed to having read it. I told him my favorite scene and why and he said, ‘Gentlemen, let’s go out back and take a closer look at these and if I like them I’ll buy your beers indeed.’ ‘Why don’ we take a look out front,’ Moxie said. The man smiled and said, ‘?’Cause I’d rather do so in private.’ Moxie and I followed him through the back door of Leonard’s in Abberstown and into the sun-soaked alley behind the bulk of Main Street’s storefronts. It was in that alley that we done met Daniel Prouds.