To Hell You Ride

"You heading into town again, Roy? Getting a might cold for that, isn't it?" asked Eli Goldman, coming up to pat Roy's mule, Annie, on the nose.

"I reckon, but I mean to go, anyhow," he answered. He smoothed the blanket into place on Annie's back before hoisting the saddle easily, getting it strapped on good.

"Well, you watch yourself on Fool's Turn."

Roy nodded, giving Eli a tiny smile. Out of all of the fellers he roomed with at Miss Lee's boardinghouse, Eli was the best. Small and dark, with curly hair and a harelip, Eli worked his ass off every week, setting charges and running, quick enough to stay one step ahead of the blasts. Roy liked him.

"I'll do that. Is there aught you'd like from the sundry?"

"Nah." Eli gave him one last grin before sticking his hands in his pockets and turning about. "I'm not fastidious like you, Roy. You have a good 'un."

"I will."

He mounted up and headed out himself, the early morning air so crisp Roy could see his breath. He sighed. Wouldn't be long before the first snows came, and then he'd not be going to town more than once a month if he was lucky, and then on snowshoes. He'd not risk Annie's life for his own frivolity.

The ride down took nigh on two hours, and the town had just started to wake up when Roy paid John Colfax ten cents to stable Annie for the day.

"You might oughta stay the night in town, Roy," John said, spitting into the straw and manure in one of the livery stalls. "Gonna be cold as a witch's tit tonight."

"I'll think on it, John," Roy replied, nodding his head, feeling his too long hair brush his collar. "If I do I'll leave another dime for you in the tinder box."

"Much obliged, Roy."

The next stop would be the barber. The other miners laughed at his clean shaven face as much as they did his Opera house visits, but one followed the other, didn't it? In the hard winter he'd let his beard grow out, but as long as he was visiting town, he'd get it cut off.

"Mornin', Roy," said old Geezer Harris as Roy walked into his shop. The place smelled like Bay Rum and tonic and sweat, with that undertone of burnt hair that made his nose sting.

"Morning. Shave and a haircut today, Mr. Harris." Roy was probably the only man in Telluride who called Geezer Mister, but it never hurt to show some respect, did it? Especially to those who didn't get it elsewhere. Roy knew what it felt like to be thought low of, and he knew he didn't like it one bit.

"That'll be two bits, then, Roy."

Up front. Just in case Geezer cut his throat or something and he couldn't pay. Roy grinned and dished out a quarter dollar, settling in the chair for a little pampering. Geezer didn't have the best hands or nothin', but he did have hot towels, good quality shave soap and a well-honed razor.

By the time his beard got scraped off and his hair trimmed back down, Roy felt almost human, almost good. Until Geezer slipped a little chunk of mirror into his hand to see and he had to look at his big old nose and square chin, his eyes still just as odd a yellow as a cat's.

"Well," he said. "You didn't make me no more good looking, Mr. Harris, but you sure cleaned me up."

"You're a good feller, Roy. Twice as good as and of the others, and three times as good as the placers up on the west end. You don't need a pretty mug."

"Gee, thanks, Mr. Harris." There was no rancor in it, though. Big Roy knew what he was and what he wasn't.

"You going to the Opera House tonight?" Geezer asked, grabbing up a stick of broom and sweeping up the fallen locks of dark brown hair.

"I am." Didn't he always? And didn't they always have just this same talk?

"I hear they've got some fancy new actors. Them's gonna do a play by Mister Shakespeare."

"Yeah?" Well, that would be a first in Telluride. Roy had seen a play by Mister Shakespeare once, in Topeka, long time ago. He'd barely understood any of it, but had been transfixed by the costumes and the fancy accents and all. There had been a man who'd played the lead, some Prince or other, and he'd worn tight black pants, almost like stockings. It had made Roy twitch in a good sort of way.

"Yessir. From back east, even."

"Well then, they ought to do a good job," Roy said, smiling as he donned his coat and hat. "Good day to you, Mister Harris."

"And to you, Roy. Enjoy the show."

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