Read Online Devil's Creek Massacre by Len Levinson - Free Book Online

he had to a family, with Cochrane the father he wished he'd had, while Dr. Montgomery was his Dutch uncle.Johnny Pinto felt more at peace with himself since he'd joined the gang, but it wasn't easy to take orders.
    He opened the bunkhouse door, and everybody went for his gun. They relaxed when they saw him, but he said nothing as he made his way to his bunk, sat on its edge, and pulled off a boot. A terrible odor permeated the smoky atmosphere. Johnny Pinto lay on his bunk with all his clothes on, puffed up the pillow, and relaxed.
    â€œHey—Pinto!” called Beasley, sitting at the table with the old-timers. “Ain't you even a-gonna wash yer face afore you go to bed?”
    â€œWhat for?” replied Johnny. “They say too much water weakens a man.”
    Beasley snorted derisively. “I've never been able to understand how a grown man could be afraid of a few drops of water.”
    The gang at the table laughed, while Johnny Pinto wanted to crawl underneath the floorboards. He hated personal criticism—his father had been expert at it— but this time it was Sergeant Beasley mouthing off, a big fat pain in the ass, and Johnny had to tolerate him if he wanted to remain in the gang. He racked his brain for a clever retort, but nothing came to mind. All he could do was pull on his boots, stroll sleepily past the table, and go outside.
    He found the washbasin, splashed water onto his grimy hands and sooty face, then used the common towel. He was annoyed to be meek like his detestable father, but needed the gang more than they needed him. I can put up with anything to get what I want, he decided.
    He returned to the bunkhouse, passed the table, and waited for somebody to say something. Sure enough,Sergeant Beasley spoke again. “You might want to take a bath tomorrow, kid. You smell like horseshit, you know that?”
    Johnny Pinto spun around, nearly tripping over his own feet. “If that's how you feel about it, Sarge, I'll take a bath right now.”
    He continued toward his bunk, searched through his saddlebags, and pulled out an old wedge of soap. Then he headed for the door, hoping that no one would say anything. A grin was plastered on his face as he reached for the doorknob, and next thing he knew, he was outside.
    The grin vanished instantly in the cool night air. Why're they always picking on me? he wondered. I don't smell any worse'n any of them. They're jealous ‘cause they know I'm a better man than the whole bunch of ‘em put together, and one of these days I'll prove it. He who laughs last laughs best.
    Juanita gazed at Cochrane bent over his maps. It was all he did when home, and they never took walks or went on picnics like ordinary people. He glanced up as she crossed to the washbasin, then returned to his work as if she weren't there. I'm just the person he sleeps with, she thought, and if it wasn't me, it'd be somebody else. When he says he loves me, it's just words.
    Sometimes she thought she should get pregnant, but had no assurance he'd marry her. Accidents happened and she might possibly be pregnant even then, because she'd been oddly out of sorts lately.
    He glanced at her. “Where have you been?”
    â€œI saw the hombre who has been shot. He was having broth, and the doctor said he is getting stronger.”

    â€œDid he say his name?”
    â€œHe could not talk.”
    â€œMaybe in a few days he'll tell us how many men he shot.” Cochrane laughed darkly as he stretched his arms to the ceiling. “I'm getting sleepy. Let's go to bed.”
    That's the way it went every night. They went to bed at his convenience, screwed each other's brains out, and would have little to do with each other until it was time to go to bed again. Sometimes it felt like prostitution to Juanita.
    They washed at the basin, undressed in the darkness of the bedroom, and crawled naked into bed. He embraced her beneath the flannel blanket, kissed her lips, and she