First Rate Brother

Momma called you Newt on account of your size. Poppa liked things formal, so Newton Shea became the name. A fine name. It suited you too. Small and mighty. You turned orange, like one of those Eastern Newts, to ward off predators. You’d raise those tiny fists and kick at friends and foes. Heck, you’d even attack yourself if a limb took you by surprise. We were instant buddies and I swore an oath, before I knew the words, that nobody would hurt you.

“Need you, El Paso” was the message over the wire. Six long hot days driving wagon over Dallas and I’m here. It’s taken time to find you. In newly formed towns like El Paso everyone is a stranger. Once I had you in my sights, I sat back. I needed to know what was what. There is no one to rescue me if I need it. I’ve asked around and no one knows you have a brother. Happens that’s for the best.

I allers was one to hang back. Remember when we raced tadpoles down the ford at Bryan’s Bluff? You were still a button 'bout four years old. I was a foot taller so I could see which polliwog swam best. Height gave me an advantage. Temperament too. You told me your ‘rogs’ would hack me up in my sleep. I laughed so hard. But you stood up to your elders and I respected that. I picked your polli’s after that. Winning suited you better.

“Need you, El Paso” has urgency. I wondered what could be so serious that you’d call in an old promise. I’ve been watching from afar, the comings and goings, assessing the whys and the why nots. I think I’ve put it together.

Back at Bryan's Bluff, frog songs sweetened the night's chorus. We’d wait for momma to finish her work and pick out breeds by sound alone. You had a real sense of detail and stored away specimens, red ones, black, brown, spotted and horned, like a bone fide collector. I was in complete awe. I knew you would be a big bug one day, an Alderman, heck maybe even a Mayor. Mayor Pryor saw it, taking you under his wing, with daddy gone to consumption and all. I was proud to know you.

I didn’t see you much after the mayor took you in. There was that nasty business with the town square fire. Public mobs demanded a lynching. I couldn’t see it myself, but others must have seen something I didn’t. While I was heading out to Uncle Bill and his teamsters you were at public whippings with Pryor. I remember leaving town and seeing you at the front of a crowd in the square, fifteen years old, bright red, fists up in protest. You were totally at ease with the chaos.

I guess we lost track of each other after that. I didn’t have the urge to check on you. I must admit I was jealous. Momma sent me news every now and again. She was so proud. Then she wasn’t. I got the jist from some fellas on the road. You used your connections to open a bar in Houston. That is some going for a kid atwixt hay and grass. It looks to me like you are branching out into El Paso. Makes sense. It’s a new town, plenty of prospects come this way and a regular flow of customers arrive through the railway line.

“Need you, El Paso”. It is so ding hot out here. No water. No shade. There's just your bar and one stable block. Watching from my vantage point about a quarter mile southwest, I see some rumblings. Two teams of four men. They stay out of sight. Tigua, maybe Cheyenne. One team stays with the hosses, hiding behind a crag, about a mile back. The other lies in the grass. I watch them looking at you. You have pals around you but you’re in the sun drinking dynamite most of the time. Dog soldiers could bed you down and be out fast.

My part seems clear. Dang, I’m heeled. Winchester. I could have given them hell already. But that’s not all of it, Newt?

I’ve allers been at sea with women. But you, with that flashy smile and flannel mouth, cut a swell. That was also your downfall. Bill told me you got given the mitten because of cheating. Daughter of a Spanish teacher? Marriage like that should have set you up for life but you blew it. You liked variety, the red, black, brown, spotted, and horny ones.

My girl at Fannie Porter's had some scuttlebutt. You owned a bedhouse, she heard? That you got customers what they wanted? I couldn’t believe it. You were also known for your blowhardiness. Women flocked to Fannie for protection. Protection from you. I wouldn’t believe it. Damn near slapped Della in the face for suggesting such a thing. I bought sex. Who didn’t? Who was I to judge? Who was anyone to judge? Some of these girls don’t mind how it is. But then I started to see things for myself.

I remember when glassy-eyed frogs appeared each morning near Bryan's Bluff Ford. You’d point at a carcass and say ‘I didn’t like that one’, or “I already have two of those”. It seemed fair I guess but we didn't have much money for food back then. "Not worth eating" you’d say. They'd been burned, drowned, strangled or cut open. I paid it no mind at the time. Not enough mind at least.

Burn marks, rope marks, young limbs dragging heavily due to a beaten up heart. Some of them still buttons themselves. Got Della down. Got me down. By all reports you had them locked up in a stable at night. Half of them had been bought and the rest taken. Juneteenth meant nothing to you. I tried to pretend it was the people around you but my calico queen knew better. Women have more cow sense than men half the time. She knew you were shoddy and cruel. She asked me to talk to you but by then men were looking to drive you out of Houston. You got wind and took French leave.

Not long after a glassy-eyed Indian girl floated up at Bryan’s Bluff. She had been interfered with. Bound. Mangled. I was a ranch hand at the time, but I knew. First time back in Dallas for ten years and difficulty occurred at that exact spot? No one but me put the two together. That was six months ago.

“Need you, El Paso”. Something has caught up with you. I’ve been a big brother for 27 years and allot upon keeping my word. I need to quit beatin’ the devil around the stump.

What gets me though, what always troubles me, is that nobody tells you that your shit stinks. No one dares challenge you. Particularly when you have a bee in your bonnet. Living with mayors and fancy folk makes you think you are better than some. Maybe you assume all men think the same way as you. You probably confuse some of them too. Many good men wonder why they never fetched you a punch in the nose. You quit town when they get around to it.

You have devious needs and callous solutions to satisfy those needs. I tried to convince Della that trouble had found you. But last night, while you slept, I emptied the stable. I saw that you had created and dealt with trouble in the same way you dealt with those frogs back when we were kids.

The smell hit me first. The floor was wet with waste water. The compartment doors were locked from the outside and barricaded from within. You didn’t want to let them out. They didn’t want to let you in. I could hear whimpers softer than horses. The kind of noise that stays with you forever. It could drown you at sea or on shore. They needed some convincing that I was there to help. You cultivated chaos so well that they did not trust kindness. I had to get one of them out so she could cajole the rest into opening their compartment doors. Six pairs of desperate eyes ill accustomed to daylight. Six frail bodies that wore dirt and bruises for clothes.

I took the chance that these Indian brothers were preying on you because you had nabbed some of their own. And you have. Two of the six were reunited with their kin. I have never seen so much joy and horror at the same time. While there was a language problem, I think the Indians promised to bring the remaining women back to their families. In exchange for returning their daughters they promised to let me deal with you. They have free reign to kill your crew. I’ll be long forgotten by then.

And so here we are. I’ve been lying here in my usual spot waiting for you to rise. Indians watch me wait for you.

And here you are, still as full as a tick.

That’s it. The stable door is wide open. There you go, game as a banty rooster.

That’s right, here comes the bulldozer. Doesn’t matter how many men you send in how many directions you won't find those girls.

You’re in my beady sight, Brother. Why couldn’t you just pull in your horns? Happen we should have talked it through, waited for you to acknowledge the corn but I doubt you would have ever done the clean thing

Ah Newt, it’s acock.

Still so small and mighty. Your fists thrash, your legs kick at anyone stupid enough to help you. It sinks in. You’re approaching death. You can’t hurt anyone now. But nobody can hurt you. I kept my promise.

Here comes the cavalry for your pals.

Now to head back to Dallas in less than six days hopefully. I'm travelling lighter now.