Cowboy Samurai

When Augustus McCrae came to, it was to the sound of knickering and a cold, hard breeze. The fire was reduced to a smoldering heap. His horse–eyes illuminated by the last embers–gazed past the bend that concealed the cave exit.

“What is it, Nobu?” Augustus asked, placing a hand on his coal-coated stead.

Rather than answer, Nobu held his stare. Not for the first time in the last five years, Nobu showed why he was different. When faced with the unknown, most animals give in to fear or intrigue. Nobu embraced both, approaching situations like a human. It was that balance between curiosity and caution that had saved Augustus many times.

Augustus grumbled to his feet, rubbing the sleep off his eyes and shaking the soreness out of his legs. He was no stranger to hard travel, but eleven days without seeing a bed or a soul was pushing it, even for him. His back groaned at the thought of the days still ahead. All this for a face he could barely recall.

It was ironic that he spent more time thinking of Aki since they split than when they were together. Every morning, Augustus would sit with his coffee, put himself in the man’s mind, and plan his routes accordingly. Every town he reached, he’d scan the papers—half terrified, half hopeful–searching for some sign. When he felt tired, Aki shook him. When it hurt, Aki numbed him. When he wanted to give up, Aki picked him back up.

And yet, his old master’s face had faded to an outline. In his dreams, Aki told him stories with his deep, baritone voice. His coarse hands waved along as if playing conductor to the tale. In his nightmares, Aki’s eyes-and only his eyes-glared at Augustus through the dark. It was that look from their final encounter. Sometimes, it scorched its way into Augustus’ waking moments.

When Augustus turned the bend, he was greeted with the bitter cold. The wind tore fresh snow from the valley and stifled the night sky with curtains of white. The crescent moon shuffled from cloud to cloud, piercing the powder with a yellow haze. The haze dimly illuminated the surrounding mountain peaks–and the bear standing atop one.

Seeing a grizzly didn’t surprise Augustus. It was the mountains, after all. He was concerned, however, by the bear’s fixation. Surprise, intimidation, proximity to their young–these were the things that provoked a bear. Augustus had taken part in none of them, yet the bear was inching down the mountain toward him.

Augustus contemplated what to do. His gut–and Nobu’s instinct—told him something was off with that bear. He could stand his ground; he had faced worse things in the past. But that was also the past. His rust might bleed through, especially when his only options were a cramped cave or the blinding outdoors.

A soft swish preceded Nobu as he stepped out of the cave and stood by Augustus. His gaze looked down the U-shaped valley toward the direction they had come from. Augustus gave the bear one last look and made up his mind.

He took stock of everything that he owned,which admittedly, wasn’t very much. He started with the essentials. Food, ammo, coffee, a bedroll, and more–once these were saddled or secured in a saddlebag, he focused on his weapons. There was his beat-up old rifle, which he used for hunting, and his Colt pistol, which he used for everything else. Neither would do much to a bear except piss it off. He holstered both and turned toward his sheathed katana.

The lacquered scabbard felt worn between his fingers, the glossy texture dulled by time. Augustus held it over his head and unsheathed the katana slowly. Inch by inch, the exposed steel cut through the years. He could feel a hand over his, guiding him. The blade’s resonance tingled with a faint, easy laugh. He almost had it out of its shell before those terrible eyes found the katana and reflected back at him.

With a violent motion, Augustus slammed the katana back into its sheath, and the cave was empty again.

When he stepped out again, the wind had picked up. The bear–already at the base of the mountain–was nothing more than a blinking silhouette. Today, like most days, would not be easy. Augustus bent down, bundled some snow together, and tossed it at the fire. It sizzled and died, plunging the cave into darkness. With that, he mounted his horse.

“Come on girl, let’s get,” Augustus clucked, and soon they were trudging through one hell to escape another.

The snow danced miserably around him. Augustus pressed his hat down to his eyebrows, pulled his scarf over his nose, yet still, the snow stung his cheeks and dug deep into his eyes. Once, while on the run, he had traveled a hundred miles into the Mojave. He remembered wishing he could lick off snow from his lips rather than sweat. Now, he didn’t know which he preferred. At least sweat didn’t bite so incessantly.

Within a short distance, a white void surrounded them in every direction. Their tracks from earlier today–tracks that Augustus depended on to find their way back–were already replaced by another layer of snow. Nobu had a strong sense of direction, but weather like this was bound to rob you of your senses.

Worse yet, Augustus couldn’t keep an eye out for the bear. When his eyesight cleared, it was too dark to see without the moon. When the moon was out, the snow had their way with him again. In the rare times he had both sight and light, he glimpsed a large silhouette teetering behind.

Augustus tried to think, but the wind was just too damn cold. He wished more than anything for a roaring fire, his bedroll, and…a windbreak. ‘You can find a campsite that’s warm and dry’, Aki would say, ‘but if you don’t account for the wind, it’ll turn into a nasty night.’

It was shaping up to be one of those nasty nights. Augustus held his hand up and had it pushed straight back. The valley opened up in the same direction as the wind, allowing it to sweep past undisturbed. He thought back to landmarks from earlier today–something that could stand between him and the wind . It would have to be tall enough to service as a shield, and wide enough to contain a possible bear fight. Among thoughts of pine trees and river gullies, only the overhang struck him as viable.

The moon peeked its yellow head, illuminating rows of snowy peaks. He thought the overhang came from the second mountain to his right. What if it didn’t? What if he veered off the trail and got turned somewhere? He’d be blind, lost, and most likely still chased. But if he stuck to the trail, he’d definitely be blind, lost, and chased.

With a loud ‘HYAA’, he pushed Nobu off the path and off toward the mountain.

Almost immediately, Augustus sank. His feet carved through the soft snow, splitting it like a ship in water. Nobu struggled twice as hard, but he could only make half as much ground against the powder. Soon, the snow lost any sense of solidity, and it forced them to swim rather than lope.

The bear, however, charged through the hollow terrain with its same, steady pace. Augustus still couldn’t see it, but he could smell it. When the winds stilled, a sickly scent would waft through. It reminded Augustus of death. Or rather, something that should have died, but couldn’t.

While the wind played an orchestra of howls, shrieks, and roars, other sinister notes crept their way in. A wheeze–tight and irregular. A growl–low and gurgly. They grew louder until they drummed in his ears and beat along to his racing heart.

Augustus cursed himself for being a fool. He had lost all sense of time and place. The world was so featureless, he could be riding toward the bear and not even know. Every issue with the trail had followed him out into this wasteland, and now there wasn’t even solid ground to stand on. The katana, quiet until now, stirred against his waist.

But, like a drowned man breaking through the water’s surface, Augustus was wrenched out of the snow. Nobu followed, his steed finding chunks of compact snow to stand upon. The pair rose higher and for longer as the landscape leveled out into solid ground.

At the same time, the wind drew back a little. In the distance, Augustus could see a cliff edge. Shaped like a shallow, sideways V, it stretched further and taller than he remembered. It shimmered in the snow like a mirage, until it was blotted out again. His sanctuary. The overhang.

“COME ON BOY,” Augustus yelled, “FAST AS YOU CAN!”.

Nobu charged along the flat, dense ground, sending spurts of snow behind them. Even going as fast as they were, the wind didn’t whip as hard anymore. Augustus could raise his head higher, and when he turned back, he saw the towering snow fog they had escaped from. The bear was in there somewhere, wheezing and leaking its sickly stench.

When Augustus turned forward again, he saw the back of Nobu’s head, and found himself nearly bucked off as his horse reared.

When Nobu came back down, Augustus heard a dull crack. He looked down, assuming frost, but saw an abyss instead. An ice sheet, maybe six inches thick, was all that stood between him and the empty void below. The gorge stretched only a few feet forward, but it ran left and right like a long, horizontal scar.

It wasn’t the only crevice either. From here to the overhang–and perhaps beyond–dozens more appeared. Some were wider, others lacked an ice sheet, but all of them cut into the belly of the world.

He hopped off his horse and gave the ice two swift kicks. His foot bounced back as though he had struck solid ground. He leaned his weight into the ice sheet. Again, nothing. But then, he pressed his foot over the dent Nobu made. The ice hissed, and a series of thin cracks shot out from under him.

As Augustus contemplated what to do, that faint odor clawed its way back to him. It latched onto his hand like a hook, dragging his fingers toward his katana. When he went to unsheathe, he found that he couldn’t. Dread sifted down his stomach like sand.

He tried to grip the handle, but his palms turned clammy. He went to take a breath, but his tongue remembered the taste of blood. The katana–unbearable in its weight–crushed his spirit like a boulder. When he finally let go, something unclenched, leaving him a little empty inside.

He couldn’t run; walls of snow billowed around him. He couldn’t fight; the past erected its own walls, impenetrable even to the crashing sense of death. The overhang was his sanctuary; the overhang housed his last stand.

He looked again at the dent Nobu made. Amidst ice thick enough to hold his weight, this spot threatened to plunge him straight down to hell. If it could damn his soul, it could damn something bigger too.

“”Alright boy,” Augustus said, unhooking a saddlebag, “time for you to go.”

Nobu didn’t go. Instead he looked at Augustus with stubbornness and concern. Augustus smiled. The last few years haven’t been easy. Mostly, they had just been lonesome and empty. But through it all, he at least had Nobu.

“I’ll be fine,” he said, scratching Nobu behind the ear before pushing him away. Now go on. GET!”

Nobu went a few paces, turned his head, and then spirited away. Augustus–saddlebag in hand–watched the black dot grow smaller. Once it disappeared into the white expanse, he ran.

He scanned the ice sheets as he passed them by. The first few stretched only a few feet–too narrow for his purposes. After several more, he finally landed on the perfect one. Like all the others, it went far lengthwise, but it also ran wide, forming an ice covered crater.

As soon as he reached the edge, Augustus lifted the saddlebag over his head and slammed it down into the ice. The impact left a hexagonal ring of cracks that broke off into their own series of uneven lines. Augustus tested the dent with his foot, and was satisfied when it raised a round of fizzles. He sprinted over the ice, turning around every few feet to raise his saddlebag and smash the ice. He did this over and over until the sheet had over a half dozen indents.

Once he reached the other side, he tossed his saddlebag in the snow. It had aged more in the last five minutes than the five years he had it. With the trap set, Augustus knelt and waited. The overhang lulled the air into stillness. The sounds and smells–faint until now–latched onto that stillness, growing sharper and louder. Then, the bear appeared.

Even from a few hundred yards away, Augustus could see it was maimed. Three long claw marks carved the side of its belly. It was missing flesh and fur at the top of its neck, as if it had been gouged out. Both places trickled out a greenish pus. It leaked and left a trail of stained snow. The acute stench the pus produced made Augustus dizzy.

When the bear spotted him, a foggy tint passed over its eyes. It jerked toward him, but also held itself back, the way a horse would when you lead it near something dangerous. Then, without warning, it stood on its hindlegs and roared. Whatever hesitation it had seemed to snap. The bear fell back down into the snow and charged.

It tore through the snow, moving nearly as fast as a horse. When it reached the dent Nobu had made earlier, Augustus witnessed a terrible sight. The ice sheet around the bear fizzled and snapped, but before it could break, the bear was already a few feet closer.

Augustus threw the saddlebag over his shoulder and brought it down into the ice. The ice shook, but it still held its structure. He brought it down again. The ice buckled some more, but still didn’t break. The bear was only two hundred yards away. Augustus thrusted the bag with his entire body. The latches came clean off and so did his things. Ammo, food, coffee grounds–they all skittered and scattered over the ice.

The bear was approaching the edge of his ice sheet–and in full sprint. Augustus tossed aside the bag and pummeled the ice with his bare hands. His palms turned numb and his vision turned watery. His consciousness drummed between the stench, the wheezing, and the ice. Through teary eyes, he could make out two red lumps–his bloody fists?--yet he still struck the ice until-

A thin stream of ice shot out from under him. It flew past the bear, reaching another indent. From there, it shot out again, going from one impact site to the next until it reached the other side of the sheet. For a moment, everything went still, as if the world was bracing for change-then the ground fell apart.

Chunks of ice cascaded down the put. It started from the center split, but quickly reached the sides like a row of dominoes. The bear,too wrapped up in its fury to notice, lunged at him. Augustus leapt backward, narrowly avoiding a swipe from the bear’s claw. The bear–expecting to land on solid ground–found itself teetering on the edge with nothing but an ice wall to hold on to.

With all its weight on one side, the bear slipped twenty feet before it could get a proper grip. Augustus leaned over the edge and stared down the bear. Its green-tinted eyes were fixated on him-until a look passed over the bear. It looked away from Augustus and worriedly at its surroundings. It clung to the wall more desperately and gave soft cries of panic. It looked less like a monster, and more like a scared wild animal. And yet, monster or not, it lost its grip and disappeared all the same.

Augustus, suddenly tired beyond belief, fell back into the snow and closed his eyes.

When he opened them again, there were two horses and a man looking down at him. One was Nobu. The other, a chestnut steed. Between them was a man. He clutched both reins and regarded Augustus quizzically.

“Having trouble there, friend?” the man asked.

“My troubles went down there, I reckon, along with all my stuff,” Augustus groaned. He scooted back from the hole and stood up.

“Better your things than your life,” the man chuckled, extending his hand. “Willy Barger.”

“Augustus Mc–SHIT, OW!”

With the adrenaline gone, his hands were at their tender worst. Pain throbbed through one side, numbness on the other. The spot where he shook Willy’s hand burned. It felt like clutching a chunk of ice.

“That does not look ideal,” Willy said, crouching. “We got some medicine stored up in the cabin, along with some food and brandy. A bed too, if you’re in need of one.”

Willy didn’t look like a bad man, but bad men didn’t always look the same. Everyone from hoboes to governors had the capacity for evil. The smartest knew they could get further if they hid their blatant cruelty. Willy could be one of those men. His kindness could be a mask to lead Augustus into an ambush.

But Augustus’ knuckles ached and his stomach rumbled. It had been almost two weeks since he slept indoors or talked with another person. All he ate everyday was canned food, dry jerky, and coffee. The possibility of a nice dinner was at least worth a shootout.

“I’d be much obliged, Mr. Barger. Lead the way”

They mounted their horses and set off toward the cabin. The wind was still strong, but it was starting to lose its bluster. After fifty paces, Augustus could look for Bessey rather than her tracks. After another hundred, he could talk over the wind.

“I’m real lucky you found me, Mr. Barger.”

“You’re real lucky your horse found me. Smart feller, unlike my Bessey.”

“Ok, let me rephrase. How did you find my horse in all this?”

“I was looking for…well…never mind that now. Let’s make some ground, Mr. McCrae. It’s getting cold.”

Willy was right. Without the prospect of death draped over him, Augustus trembled against the chilly air. He could barely grip the reins, and his hands stung everytime the wind pricked at them. Using his legs more than his arms, he urged Nobu to pick up the pace.

After twenty minutes of silent riding, the wind had died out. The snow was still fresh in these parts, but it wasn’t so deep. Augustus nodded off a few times. He should have been more vigilant–and more curious about the bear–but he just didn’t have it in him. When his mind wasn’t fading, he thought of food and fire. Lost in his dreams, it was Nobu who had to stop them from riding past Willy.

“Everything alright?” Augustus called out.

Willy didn’t answer. His gaze was stuck on the mountains.

“Mr. Barger?”

“You ever seen a strange man in these mountains, Augustus?”

“Other than you?” Augustus smiled.

“Other than me,” Willy replied with a weak smile. “See, there’s this feller. Dons a black hood, keeps his distance. Sometimes he just sits and stares, but most of the time he’s… digging I guess?”

“I see. He tell you what he’s doing?”

“That’s just the thing! He never stays long enough to talk. I’ll be coming back from town, or hauling wood, and there he is. Atop some mountain with a shovel in his hand. I’ve tried riding toward him, but it’s no good. If I turn my head back or blink too long, he finds a way to be gone.”

“Well, I don’t know what to tell you Willy. Strange things are just part of living in this world.”

“But I can’t help thinking it has something to do with me. The holes it leaves behind, sometimes it’s one or two, but I’ve never seen it cross four. My family…”

Willy squeezed his temples and let his words trail off. When he let go, his expression was pleasant again. It was like a mask being put on.

“Look at me, talking your ear off when you’re about to chatter your teeth off. Come on, we’re close now.”

“Willy wai-”

But Willy was already off. Augustus searched the mountains as he followed. Was there really something there that wasn’t a delusion? All he could see–all he should have seen–were snow, trees, and rocks.

When they stopped again, it was at the top of a bend. A series of mountains encircled the region, and at the center sat a frozen lake. Not far from the shores was a shoddy barn, a magnificent tree, and a well-lit cabin.

Willy led him around the edges of the lake. Just looking at the ice made Augustus’ hands tingle. Once they reached the barn, Willy dismounted and pushed open the doors. He led Bessey into one pen, and gestured at another for Augustus to use.

“There you go you useless brute,” Willy said, once they had both horses hitched. “I tell you Augustus, if you had my horse, she wouldn’t stop for help. She’d run and keep running. Only thing she’s ever interested in is her own skin.”

“Honor walks so long as Life is there to hold the leash.” Augustus said with a chuckle.

“Sorry?”

“It’s a saying my… friend taught me.”

“Some saying. I don’t know if Bessy would have either if we weren’t here. But my wife loves this horse, so that means I do too.”

Willy spent a long time brushing Bessey and feeding her. It became apparent he was stalling. Rather than question it, Augustus went outside to wait. There he saw a tree.

It was a beautiful tree, even without leaves. The trunk broke into a hundred branches, and each one broke into a hundred twigs. In the spring, it probably gave a thick pop of green against the grey rock. It would make a nice spot to sit. At a certain angle, you could catch the lake, cabin, and mountains in one view. Augustus was about to sit there himself when Willy came out. He plastered on a weary smile.

As they approached the cabin, Augustus kept his pistol within grasp. If there was going to be an ambush, it would be here. Willy walked in front, slowly and with his brow furrowed. Augustus had his pistol halfway out of his holster–ready to use it–until he heard the sound of children. They were arguing over toys. A tired, womanly voice screamed and gave them what for. The conflict stilled, but a second later they got right back to it.

Augustus let his pistol fall back into his holster. He was relieved, but he also felt justified in his paranoia. Death was waiting behind every bush, tree, and hill when you travel alone. No matter how unlikely, it was important to stay wary. Death only had to win once, after all.

If Willy noticed anything, he said nothing. He climbed the steps with that same tense look on his face. The children were still shouting, and the woman was still screaming. Willy placed a hand on the door and paused.

“You know, one time, I did get close enough. Close enough to see there was no look on his face. There was no damn face at all.”