Read Online Redeye by Clyde Edgerton - Free Book Online

shot.”
    â€œAnd fed to the horses. Or to the dog.”
    â€œBut it was me with the great limb.”
    â€œI will put mine on the table and you will be ashamed to put yours on the table.”
    â€œWith mine, the table will fall.”
    â€œHave a drink.”
    â€œMy limb wants a drink.”
    â€œDoes he have hands to hold it?”
    â€œThe last time I looked upon him, he did not. But he has a great head.”
    â€œWe must keep them in our garments so that they do not drink all the whiskey.”
    â€œYes. I think you speak truth.”
    We finish the whiskey and go out into the night and dance. We only do this when we know that no Mormon will see us. We dance the dance of our fathers for the hunt of the rabbits and then we sit and laugh. I tell about the rabbit that escaped the snare with a broken leg so that we chased and chased him and he wiggled from our hands and we chased him again and he was such a brave rabbit we kept him.
    When we came to my shelter, my belongings were not outside so I knew peace with my woman was possible. My woman was asleep and I was quiet. And as I do when I have the whiskey I call out to the hidden sun and to the four breaths of winds and to the spirit of water, for when I drink the whiskey I am unable to find the One Creator of the Mormons. But I call out quietly so I will not wake my woman, who makes the loud breathing noises under her covers.

BUMPY
    Next morning, Cobb Pittman cooked breakfast on a flat rock that was in the fire all night. He knew what he was doing. You cantell he’s at home on the trail. That’s kind of the way I want to get to be.
    When we got ready to start out, and counted up, three steers had wandered off. Mr. Pittman found their trail and we followed it up this gorge on the north side of the mesa. Before we got far we saw two fellows just breaking up camp.
    â€œHell, that’s Markham Thorpe and somebody,” said Zack. “Bishop Thorpe. Runs the ferry.”
    We rode up.
    â€œSeen any lost steers, Bishop Thorpe?” says Zack to the old one.
    â€œMatter of fact, we heard some in the night,” he says. He looked at me and I remembered him from times at the ferry. “They seemed to be heading up the canyon here,” he said.
    â€œYeah, well, we had three wander off last night.”
    â€œYou’re working some for Merriwether now, aren’t you, Brother Zack?”
    â€œThat’s right. Sometimes.”
    â€œThis is my son, Hiram,” the Bishop said to all three of us.
    Hiram was mounted and leading their pack mule. I was leading Jake. I’d seen Hiram but never met him.
    â€œThat’s Jake, ain’t it?” Hiram said to me.
    â€œSure is.”
    â€œAnd you . . . ?” Bishop Thorpe said to Mr. Pittman. “You’re . . .”
    â€œCobb Pittman.”
    â€œMr. Pittman.” The Bishop touched his hat. “You’re working for Merriwether, too?”
    â€œToday.”
    â€œI’ve not seen you around these parts.”
    â€œHadn’t been around long.”
    â€œAnd you?” the Bishop asked me.
    â€œI’m Bumpy—Bumpy Copeland. I live with Mr. P.J. Copeland.”
    â€œCopeland?”
    â€œCopeland. They adopted me.”
    â€œAh, I’ve heard about that. Copeland’s is where I bought this very saddle,” he said, patting it. “And a fine one.” He was a kind of big square old man with a big flat face and eyebrows that went every which way and eyes underneath them that stared at you hard. I’d heard about him having visions and how he’d had three wives that he said were just his friends now. They say Brigham Young had nineteen wives and about sixty children and Mr. Copeland said when one of the wives tried to divorce him and asked for a lot of money, he claimed they won’t married.
    â€œWe’ve been witnessing to the Indians,” said the Bishop.
    â€œNot many in here no more,” said