A Different Kind of Life

*Warning: Some swearing and murder."

“I didn’t abandon my son,” the old man said as he scratched his gray beard. “He thinks I did, but I didn’t. It wasn’t like that.” The deep wrinkles in his ancient face looked ghoulish in the bonfire's light.

“Why does he think you abandoned him?” the younger man asked. “That’s not usually something a person gets confused over.”

“He thinks I sent him away because he’s deaf,” the old man leaned back against a stump. “I mean, I did send him away because of his deafness, but it was best. I sent him to a school for deaf kids. Did you know they have a language for deaf people now? They talk with hand gestures. It’s quite remarkable.”

“I didn’t know that,” the younger man said, sipping whiskey from his tin cup. “They have just about everything these days.” The night was chilly, and a cool wind blew through the canyon. The old man shivered and hunched his rounded shoulders closer to the fire. Stars above shone in the clear night sky. Tied to a tree a few feet away, their horses nickered and shuffled peacefully.

“It was a good school, and I paid a pretty penny for it,” the old man sighed. “It was the right decision after his mother died. I should have visited, but it was a long way, and I didn’t. Finally, I visited him last year. He has a wife. She’s a pretty little thing. And a son. When we met, he talked in that hand language, and his pretty wife translated, and he told me he wanted nothing to do with me. He said I abandoned him, but I didn’t. I wanted better for him. The life I lead ain’t the right kind of life for a deaf boy or a deaf man, neither.”

“I heard you ran with the Lazlo Gang?” the younger man leaned forward. “I heard you got up to all sorts of shenanigans with them.”

“We did indeed,” the old man looked into the fire. “They were well-paid shenanigans, which is why I asked you out here. You come recommended by a former colleague. He says you’re a trustworthy sort.”

“Was it Old Man Howard?” the younger man asked. “I know Howard a long way back.”

“I know Howard a longer way back,” the old man laughed. “Yeah, he vouched for you. I’ve got a job I need help with.”

“I’m willing and able,” the young man grinned. “I’m up for anything.”

“I need you to dig a hole.”

They looked at each other over the fire.

“A hole?” the younger man finally asked.

“Yes, I need you to dig me a hole,” the old man said. “My hole-digging days are over. I could barely get on my horse this morning.”

“I wasn’t sure if you’d stay on,” the younger man admitted. I wasn’t sure you would make it wherever we were going.”  

“I wasn’t sure neither,” the old man agreed. “I shouldn’t have waited so long. I should have done this long ago. I need you to dig up my fortune and help me haul it back to town. You’ll get half, and then I’ll take the rest to my son, and he’ll get the other half.”

“You’re going to give me half of your fortune?” the young man asked. “Why would you do that?”

“Because you’re going to help me,” the old man said. I’m not just paying for a hole. I’m paying for your honesty and integrity, as well as your time and effort.”

“That sounds like a good deal to me,” the young man said. “I just ain’t sure why you picked me for it.”

“All of my friends are dead or old,” the old man said. “I need a young man, a trustworthy one. But enough jawing. We need some rest.”

The men spread their bedrolls on the ground and stoked the fire. They slept restlessly. The young man tossed and turned, flopping violently under his blankets. The old man shifted gingerly. His old joints popped with every movement. They woke at dawn, sore and angry. After lousy coffee and worse food, they mounted their horses. The younger man helped the old man into his saddle, not ungently. The two started into the canyon.

By noon, they reached a small side canyon with an enormous gnarled tree at the end. Several large boulders were scattered around the rocky ground.

“We’re here,” the old man said. “This is the spot. I’ll need you to help me off again.” The younger man helped the old man off the horse and got the shovel out of his saddle bag.

“Where do I dig?” the young man asked.

“Next to that big red rock,” the old man pointed at an enormous red boulder twenty yards away. “Dig on the south side, in the shadow. It’s not too far down. If you don’t mind, I’ll wait here. That ride took more out of me than I foresaw.”

The old man sat on a rock in the shade of the canyon wall while the younger man began digging. The old man pulled out a whiskey bottle and started drinking. An hour later, the shovel struck metal with a clang. The young man knelt and cleared the rest of the dry, dusty dirt away with his hands. A large metal box was embedded in the ground. The lid was rusty and nearly three feet wide.

“I think I hit something,” the young man called out. The old man got unsteadily to his feet. He ambled over to the hole.

“Yes, that’s it,” the old man said. He stood over it, one old hand on his hip. The young man walked up behind him and pulled a knife from the sheath on his belt. The old man reached for his gun, but the young man stabbed the knife into the old man’s back, just under the ribs and deep into his right kidney. The young man pulled the knife out and slid it in again twice more. His left hand reached across the old man’s body and pulled the gun out of the old man’s holster. He tossed it to the ground a few yards away. The old man’s hands fluttered helplessly as the young man grabbed him and lowered him to the ground.

“I’m sorry, old timer,” he said. “There’s absolutely no reason for me to share this with your son. There’s nothing stopping you from murdering me the second we got your treasure back to the city. I ain’t no fool. I know how it goes.” 

The old man looked up from the ground. His hands moved shakily to his chest.

“I would have shared,” the old man whispered. “I was being honest.” With a cough and a shudder, the man died.

The young man walked around him. He reached into the hole and opened the chest with a creak. The chest was empty except for a small leather packet at the bottom. The young man reached in, took out the packet, and opened it. He threw his head back and laughed.

“One hundred dollars?” he shouted at the dead body. “That’s it? One hundred dollars? A lifetime of stealing and murdering, and all the treasure you got is one hundred dollars?” The young man gathered up the old man’s guns and the money. He returned to the horses, tying the old man’s horse to his saddle. With a shake of his head, he rode toward the city.

Six months later, the young man slid off his horse and fell onto the ground.

“This is where he took me,” the young man said to two men on horseback. “Now, will you let me go?” The men looked at each other. One of the men made a series of hand gestures to the other.

“Edward asks if it was quick or slow,” the other man asked the young man.

“It was quick,” the young man insisted. “I killed him so quick, he barely felt it. He was almost dead anyway. He was so old and sick he ain’t had much time left. He was almost dead already.”

“And you left him lying here for the coyotes and vultures?” the man asked. “You left him here like a dog, like a piece of trash.” The man watched Edward as he signed furiously.

“It’s just a body,” the young man whimpered. “Please don’t kill me. You know, you could let me go. I could pay. We could just knock your employer over the head, and you could let me go.”

“He ain’t my employer. He’s my brother-in-law,” the other man said. “My sister would murder me if I came back without him, and besides that, he’s my best friend on this Earth. Why would I betray him for a lying, thieving asshole like you?”

“Jacob, what’s he asking?” Edward signed.

“He wants me to betray you,” Jacob signed back.

“Of course he does,” Edward signed with a shake of the head. They got off their horses and walked into the side canyon. They left the young man lying in the sun. His bandaged foot bled into the dust.

“If you move, we’ll shoot you again,” Jacob told him. Edward smiled, and the young man nodded frantically.

The two men walked to a large red boulder. A decaying body lay in the shade. The eyes had been eaten out, and large chunks of the legs were gone. The body lay next to an open hole with a large box in it.

“Is that him?” Jacob signed.

“It’s hard to tell,” Edward signed back. “It could be.” They stepped forward and looked closer. The body was bloated and very much the wrong color.

“All he had to do was roll him into the hole, and he would have been buried,” Jacob signed. “What a bastard.”

“It’s him,” Edward signed. “It’s my father. I recognize his belt.” He pointed at a large metal belt with a Mustang running across it.

“Does it look like he’s pointing at something?” Jacob signed. He gestured to the dead body’s hands. The right hand was missing a pinkie finger, and the left hand a thumb, but the sign was clear.

“It looks like he’s making the sign for ‘go there,’” Edward pointed at the tree. They walked over to the large and gnarled tree. It was a beautiful and twisted specimen of plant life. Carved into the base of the tree were the letters EVW.

“Aren’t those your initials?” Jacob asked.

Edward nodded and scrapped at the ground with his boot.

“I’ll get the shovel,” Jacob signed.

Thirty minutes later, the shovel struck metal. Edward and Jacob cleared off the rest of the dirt and looked at each other. It was another large metal chest, exactly the same as the first one. The men opened the chest. It was piled high with leather packets of dollars, bars of gold, bags of jewelry, and more.

Jacob whistled and laughed. “That wily old fox,” he signed. “This is enough for ten lifetimes.”

“I can’t believe he had this much,” Edward signed. “He left no clue in his letter, just that he was going out with this one, and if we didn’t hear from him again, something happened.” He gestured to the young man lying on the ground.

“I think he only wanted you to find it if you came and avenged him,” Jacob signed. “That’s why he didn’t say anything.”

“He was a complicated man,” Edward signed. “And a terrible father.”

“You loved that school,” Jacob shrugged. “They were good to you.”

“Yeah, they were,” a small smile played on Edward’s lips as he signed. They started hauling the loot to the horses and loading it, walking past the young man lying on the ground.

“What the hell’s that?” the young man watched them gather the fortune. “Is it that old man’s treasure? That ain’t right! Half that’s mine. He promised! Half that’s mine.” The young man shouted and screamed from his prone position. The men ignored him and continued loading the treasure on his horse.

Once the chest was empty, the two men took the dead body to the chest and carefully placed it inside. They closed the chest and buried it again. When they had finished, Edward carved his father’s name into the tree.

The inscription said, “Here lies Horace Edward Whitley. May he find true treasure in heaven.”

“Should we pray or something?” Jacob asked Edward. Edward nodded. They took off their hats, and Edward started signing.

“Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil,” he paused after the last line. “That’s as far as I know,” he admitted.

“That’s more than I know,” Jacob shrugged. They put on their hats and returned to their horses. After drinking some water, they mounted their horses.

“Where are you going?” the young man screamed. “You can’t leave me out here! I’ll die of thirst. I’ll starve. You can’t be that cruel. Please!”

“It is rather cruel,” Jacob signed.

Edward nodded and drew his gun. He aimed at the man on the ground and shot. The man’s head exploded in a shower of blood and gore. His body shook, then went still. The horses danced uncomfortably, but the men brought them under control. Edward put his gun back in its holster.

“Happy?” Edward signed. Jacob rolled his eyes, and they headed out down the canyon.