The Sisters Brothers Read online

  ‘That is all right by me,’ I replied, standing. The room stunk of ash and charcoal and my eyes were raw and burning. I had to make water and moved to exit the cabin but Charlie blocked my way, his face gaunt and unrested. ‘She has left,’ he said, ‘but has kept us with something as a remembrance.’ He pointed and I followed the line of his finger. The woman had hung the string of beads around the jamb of the door. I will be mostly gone, I recalled her saying—mostly but not completely.

  ‘What do you make of it?’ I asked.

  Charlie said, ‘It’s no decoration.’

  ‘We could take it down,’ I said, reaching.

  He caught my hand. ‘Don’t touch it, Eli.’

  We stood back to consider the options. The horses heard our voices and were watching us from the field. ‘We won’t walk beneath it,’ said Charlie. ‘The only thing is to knock out the window and climb through.’ Feeling my middle section, which is and always has been bountiful, I said I did not think I would fit in the small opening. Charlie mentioned it was worth a try but the idea of failing—of climbing back away from the hole red-faced—was not something I was eager to experience, and I said I would not attempt it.

  ‘Then I will go alone,’ said Charlie, ‘and return to you with some tools to cut a larger piece away.’ Standing on the old woman’s wobbly chair, he knocked out the glass with the handle of his revolver and I boosted him up and out the window. Now we faced each other on opposite sides of the door. He was smiling, and I was not. ‘There you are,’ he said, patting the glass shards from his belly.

  I said, ‘I don’t like this plan. Striking out into the wild with hopes of finding a gentle soul eager to loan out his tools. You will ride aimlessly while I stew in this hovel. What if the old woman returns?’

  ‘She has left us her evil tidings, and there is no reason for her to come back.’

  ‘That’s easy for you to say.’

  ‘I believe it to be true. And what else can I do? If you have another plan, now is the time to share it.’

  But no, I did not have one. I asked him to bring me my food bag and I watched him walk out to the horses. ‘Don’t forget a pan,’ I called. ‘What man?’ he asked. ‘A pan! A pan!’ I mimed a cooking-with-a-pan motion, and he nodded. He returned and pushed my effects through the window, wishing me a happy breakfast before mounting Nimble and riding away. I experienced a miserable feeling at their leaving; staring at the opening in the tree line where they had disappeared, I felt a premonitory concern they would never revisit it.

  I gathered up my reserves of cheer and decided to make a temporary home of the cabin. There was no chopped wood or kindling available but the ashes and coals were still glowing hot so I demolished the old woman’s chair by swinging it widely and crashing it over the floor. I stacked its legs, seat, and back into the fireplace in an upside down V shape, pouring some of the lamp’s oil over top of the pile. A moment passed and the chair ignited all at once. I was heartened by its light and fragrance. It was made of hard oak and would burn well. ‘Little victories,’ my mother used to say, and which I then said aloud, to myself.

  I spent some minutes standing in the doorway, looking out at the world. There was not a cloud in sight and it was one of those purple-blue days where the sky appears taller and deeper than usual. Melted snow-water came draining off the roof in rivulets and I held my tin cup out the window to fill it. The tin turned frigid in my hand and small islands of translucent ice floated on the water’s surface, stinging my lip as I drank. It was a relief to wash away my mouth’s ghastly coffin-taste of stale blood leftover from the day before. I warmed the cold liquid over my tongue, pushing it back and forth in hopes of cleansing my wound. I became alarmed when I felt something solid come loose, knocking around in my water-filled skull. Thinking the object a flap of skin, I spit it out onto the floor. It landed with a sickening slap, and I crouched down close to inspect it. It was cylindrical and black, which brought my heart to a trot: Had Doctor Watts slid a leech into my mouth without my knowing it? But when I nudged the thing with my thumb it unraveled, and I recalled the cotton he had tucked beside my gums. I flung it into the fire and it slithered down a flaming chair leg, bubbling and smoking and leaving a trail of blood and saliva.

  Staring out at the steam rising in the field, I felt a gladness at having survived the recent series of happenings: The spider, the bloated head, the curse averted. I filled my lungs with all the cold air they could hold. ‘Tub!’ I shouted into the wilderness. ‘I am stuck inside the cabin of the vile gypsy-witch!’ He raised his head, his jaw working on a mouthful of crunchy grass. ‘Tub! Assist me in my time of need!’

  I made myself a modest breakfast of bacon, grits, and coffee. A piece of gristle lodged itself into my tooth-hole and I had no small amount of trouble removing it, thus irritating the wound and causing bleeding. I thought of the toothbrush then, which I retrieved from my vest pocket along with the powder, laying these neatly on the table beside the tin cup. Watts had not said whether I should wait for my mouth to heal entirely before using the tool but I thought to go ahead, albeit cautiously. I dampened the bristles and tapped out a thimbleful of the powder. ‘Up, down, side to side,’ I said, for these were the words the doctor had spoken. My mouth was filled with the mint-smelling foam and I scrubbed my tongue raw. Pulling myself up to the window, I spit the bloody water into the dirt and snow. My breath was cool and fine-smelling and I was greatly impressed with the tingling feeling this toothbrush gave me. I decided I would use it every day, and was tapping the tool on the bridge of my nose, thinking of nothing, or of several vague things simultaneously, when I saw the bear lumber out of the woods, toward Tub.

  Chapter 9

  It was a grizzly. He was large but rangy and had likely just awoken from hibernation. Tub saw him or smelled him and began bucking and jumping but could not loose himself from the tree root. Standing shy of the doorway, I raised my pistol, firing six quick shots, but these were taken in a panic and none of them hit their mark. The bear was unimpressed with the gun’s report and continued on; by the time I took up my second pistol he was standing over Tub. I fired twice but missed and he lunged, knocking Tub to the ground with a heavy blow to the eye. Now he was standing on the far side of Tub and I could not get a clean shot without putting the horse in danger, and so with no other option but to watch my animal slaughtered, I crossed the cursed threshold, running into the fray and screaming just as loud as I was able. The grizzly took notice of my approach and became confused—should he continue the killing of the horse, already under way, or should he address this noisy new two-legged animal? While he pondered this I put two bullets in his face and two in his chest and he fell dead on the ground. Whether Tub was alive or not, I could not tell. He did not appear to be breathing. I turned back to face the black mouth of the cabin. A trembling grew in my hands and in the flesh of my legs. I was ringing all over.

  Chapter 10

  I returned to the cabin. Cursed or not I did not see the point of letting Charlie in on the news. I took stock of my health but could not pinpoint any particular feeling besides the ringing, which I decided was nerves, and which at any rate was abating. Tub was still not moving and I was certain he was dead when a nuthatch lit upon his nose and he leapt up, shaking his head and panting. I walked away from the door and lay on the bed. It was damp and lumpy and smelled of sod. I cut away a hole to look inside and saw it was full of grass and earth. Some kind of witch preference, perhaps. I moved to sleep on the floor before the fire. I woke up an hour later. My brother was shouting my name and attacking the window frame with an ax.

  Chapter 11

  I crawled out the hole and we walked over and sat on the ground next to the dead bear. Charlie said, ‘I saw this gentleman lying here and called your name, but you didn’t answer. Then I looked in the doorway and saw you on your back on the floor. That is an unpleasant feeling, wanting to cross into a house but not being able to.’ He asked me what had happened and I said, ‘There’s not a lot to i
t. The bear came out of the woods and knocked Tub to the ground. I took careful aim and killed him dead.’

  ‘How many shots did you fire?’

  ‘I emptied both pistols and hit him two with one and two the other.’

  Charlie examined the bear’s wounds. ‘You fired from the window or the door?’

  ‘Why are you asking all these questions?’

  ‘No reason.’ He shrugged. ‘That’s some nice shooting, brother.’

  ‘Lucky, is all.’ Hoping to change the subject, I asked about the ax.

  ‘Prospectors heading south,’ he said. There was a divot of skin gone from one of his knuckles and I asked how he came to be injured. ‘The men were hesitant to loan me their equipment. Well, they’ll not need the ax, now.’ He returned to the cabin, entering through his hole. I did not know what he was doing at first, but soon saw the smoke issuing from inside. Next, my bag and pan jumped out the window, with Charlie following closely behind and wearing a wide smile. As we rode away the structure was a whirling tornado of whistling heat and flames and the bear, which Charlie had coated in lamp oil, was likewise burning—an impressive sight, but sad, and I was grateful to take leave of the place. It occurred to me that I had crossed the threshold for a horse I did not want but Charlie had not done the same for his own flesh and blood. A life of ups and downs, I thought.

  Chapter 12

  Tub’s eye was red and swollen and dead-looking, and he was acting strangely, turning right when I pulled left, stopping and starting of his own accord, and walking sideways. I said to Charlie, ‘I think there’s been some damage done to Tub’s brain by that grizzly’s paw.’

  Charlie said, ‘He is probably only dazed temporarily.’ Tub walked headfirst into a tree and began loudly to urinate. ‘You’re too kind with him. Stab him in the ribs with your heels. This will give him all the focus you could want.’

  ‘The last horse didn’t need such prodding.’

  Charlie shook his head. ‘Let’s not talk about that again, thank you.’

  ‘The last horse was smarter than many grown men I’ve known.’

  Charlie shook his head; he would not speak of it anymore. We came to the camp of the dead prospectors, or to-be prospectors, or never-to-be prospectors. I counted five bodies facedown on the ground, and none of them was lying next to another. Charlie told me the story while emptying their pockets and bags of valuables: ‘This fat fellow here, he was the tough one. I tried to reason with him but he wanted to make a show for his friends. I shot him in the mouth and everyone ran. That’s why they’re all scattered and back wounded, see?’ He squatted before a slight body. ‘This one here can’t be more than sixteen, I’d say. Well, he should have known better than to travel with such hotheads.’

  I said nothing. Charlie looked at me for a reaction and I shrugged.

  ‘What’s that mean?’ he said. ‘You had a hand in this, let’s not forget.’

  ‘I don’t see how you can say that. I did not want to stay the night in that old woman’s cabin, remember.’

  ‘But it was your illness that made such a stop necessary.’

  ‘A spider crawled into my boot, there is the cause of my illness.’

  ‘You’re saying you wish to blame the spider?’

  ‘I don’t wish to blame anyone. You’re the one who brought it up.’

  Speaking to the assembled dead, Charlie said, ‘My good men, it is a spider to blame for the early demise of your group. A woolly, fat-bottomed spider in search of warmth—here is the cause of your deaths.’

  I said, ‘All I am telling you, brother, is that it’s a shame they had to go. And it is a shame. And that’s all.’ I rolled the boy over with my boot. His mouth was slack and a pair of hugely bucked upper teeth pushed past his lips.

  ‘There’s a handsome lad,’ Charlie offered drolly. But he was feeling remorseful, I could see it. He spit on the ground and tossed a handful of dirt over his shoulder. ‘All these people searching out their fortunes in California would do better to stay where they are and work their own land.’

  ‘I understand it. They are looking for adventure.’

  ‘These men found theirs.’ He resumed rifling their pockets. ‘This one has a fine watch and fob. Do you want it? Here, feel how heavy it is.’

  ‘Leave the man his watch,’ I said.

  ‘I would feel better about this if you took something.’

  ‘And I’d feel worse. Leave the watch, or take it for yourself, but I won’t have it.’

  He had also killed their horses. These lay in a group at the bottom of a gully past the camp. Normally this would not have bothered me but two of them were fine animals, greatly superior to Tub; I pointed this out to Charlie and he became bitter and told me, ‘Yes, and their marks are here for anyone to see. Would you be so stupid as to ride a murdered man’s horse into California, where his arrival is expected?’

  ‘No one is expecting these men. And you know as well as I do there’s no better place in the world to hide than California.’

  ‘I’m done talking about your horse, Eli.’

  ‘If you think it will not come up again, you are mistaken.’

  ‘Then I’m done talking about your horse today. Now, let us divide the money.’

  ‘This is your killing. You keep it.’

  ‘I killed these men to free you from the cursed shack,’ he complained. But I would not accept the coins and he said, ‘Don’t think I’m going to force it on you. I am overdue for some new clothes anyway. Do you think your mangled, brainless horse can make it to the next town without hurtling itself off a cliff? What’s that? You’re not smiling, are you? We’re in a quarrel and you mustn’t under any circumstances smile.’ I was not smiling, but then began to, slightly. ‘No,’ said Charlie, ‘you mustn’t smile when quarreling. It’s wrong, and I dare say you know it’s wrong. You must stew and hate and revisit all the slights I offered you in childhood.’

  We mounted to leave the camp. I kicked Tub in his ribs and he lay down flat on the ground.

  Chapter 13

  It was after dark by the time we came to the next town, and the trading post did not look to be open for business. But the door was unlocked and the chimney was smoking, and we knocked and entered. The room was warm and still, the smell of new goods strong in my nostrils—pants and shirts and undershirts and stockings and hats filled the shelves in neat piles. Charlie knocked his boot heel on the floor and a spry old man in a sagging undershirt emerged from behind a heavy black-velvet curtain. He did not return our greeting but moved silently from place to place, lighting the lamps on the counter with a thin stick of pine, its end glowing and bobbing in his hand. Soon the room was bright in the golden glow, and the old man laid his hands on the countertop, blinking and smiling inquisitively.

  ‘I am looking for some new clothes,’ said Charlie.

  ‘Top to bottom?’ said the old man.

  ‘I am thinking of a new shirt, foremostly.’

  ‘Your hat is tattered.’

  ‘What do you have in the way of shirts?’ asked Charlie.

  The old man studied Charlie’s torso, reading his measurements with a trained eye, then turned and scurried up a ladder just behind him, pulling from the shelves a short stack of folded shirts. He descended and laid the stack before Charlie; as my brother sorted through these, the old man asked me, ‘And you, sir?’

  ‘I am not looking for anything this evening.’

  ‘Your hat is tattered, also.’

  ‘I like my hat.’

  ‘You seem to have known each other a long while, judging by the sweat rings.’

  My face darkened and I said, ‘It is impolite to speak of other people’s clothing like that.’

  The man’s eyes were black and slick and he reminded me of a mole or some other type of burrowing animal: Quick and sure and single-minded. He said, ‘I did not intend to be impolite. I blame my line of work. Whenever I see a man in compromised attire I am drawn to him in sympathy.’ His eyes grew wide and innoce
nt but while he spoke his hands, working independently, laid three new hats out on the counter.

  ‘Did you not hear me when I said I wanted nothing?’ I asked.

  ‘What will putting one on hurt you?’ he wondered, propping up a looking glass. ‘You’re just passing time while your friend here tries out shirts.’ The hats were black, chocolate, and dark blue. I laid mine next to them and had to admit it was in poor shape by comparison. I said I might try one on and the old man called out sharply, ‘Rag!’ Now a pregnant and markedly ugly young girl emerged from behind the curtain with a steaming cloth in her hand. She flung this at me and returned without a word from whence she came. I stood handling the hot rag, tossing it back and forth to cool it, and the old man offered his explanation: ‘If you wouldn’t mind wiping down your hands and brow, sir. We can’t have the merchandise sullied by every fellow who enters the room.’ I set about cleaning myself while he turned his attention to Charlie, busily buttoning up a black cotton shirt with pearl snap buttons. ‘Now, that is a beautiful fit,’ the old man said. Charlie stood before a long looking glass, moving this way and that to view the shirt from each angle. He turned to me and pointed at the garment, his eyebrows slightly raised.

  ‘It is a handsome one,’ I said.

  ‘I’ll take it,’ Charlie said.

  ‘And what do you think of your friend in this?’ the old man asked as he put the chocolate hat atop my head. Charlie considered my profile, then asked to see what the black one looked like. When the old man swapped them out, Charlie nodded. ‘If you were after a hat, you could stop right there. It’s not going to get much better than that. And I think I might like to see the blue one, while they’re out.’