Seeing Grey Horses
by Eli V. Washington
The rope was itchy around my neck. I looked at the tree branch it was tied to, and despite its lack of leaves, the tree looked strong. The heat from the sun poured down my body like rain as sweat was running into my eyes, despite my heroic efforts to blink them away. My legs were wrapped firmly around the sides of a black Mustang and my hands were tightly bound behind my back.
“Taking it all in for the last time, lad?”
Despite my blurry vision, I could tell who it was from the faint Irish accent. Chris McGowan, head of the McGowan Crew. They were known as cruel, tough, and ugly sons of bitches. Chris was the ugliest, something you could see even with sweat rinsing your eyes. He made sure to surround himself with the rest of his posse, eyeing me down with twisted smiles on their almost as ugly faces. I tried to move my hands, hopelessly thinking the rope was old or the idiot who tied me up did a poor job, both were proven untrue.
“Lucky for you, I’m feeling pretty gracious today. I don’t take very kindly to dirty little thieves running around in my camp. Especially the fecking likes of you. The fellas wanted me to cut open your belly and send you on a walk, leave you out to die for the savages to mistake your dark body as one of their own if they see you.”
He and his boys chuckled at the thought of it, but I paid them no mind, worrying more about the horse as it was shuffling its hooves in place.
“But I said ‘Naw, I’ll let the bastard hang off the tree like fruit. I’m sure he’d be a lot more familiar with that.’”
If the thought of me laid out with my guts hanging out was amusing to them, my body swinging off the branch really gave them a laugh. They started guffawing and wheezing, part of me was scared it was going to set off my horse. Chris started to recognize my silence.
“You can keep your mouth shut all you like,” he snarled, “It won’t change my mind none.”
Chris reaches at his side for his Colt, aiming it at the ground near my unsteady steed.
“I bet I’ll hear your gurgling cries after-”
Whatever Chris wanted to say was interrupted by an arrow sticking through the side of his neck. Chris slid off his horse, crumpled up on the ground as he tried to weakly pull at the arrow. Blood was already pouring out of his mouth, but he still tried to make a sound. That was then followed up by a haunting swirl of hollers that were trailed by tan men dressed in paint, feathers, and buckskin. Natives.
They were still a distance away from us, so the McGowan Crew gathered themselves to charge ahead towards them. Most of my focus was on calming down the horse as all the noise and carnage made it start to briefly buck and trot but not at enough speed to cause me to fall off, surprisingly enough. However, from what I did see, it was a clash of white and brown trading blows with each other. The McGowan Crew shot wildly at the Indians, nicking a good number of them but only killing two. The Indians fired back with arrows and what few that didn’t have arrows, used clubs and tomahawks to ram into the skulls of the Irishmen. One of them even tackled a McGowan off their horse to the ground, bashing in their head with a nearby rock. The brain oozed from the top of the head like a jar of broken molasses.
After the dust settled, the Indians came out victorious. As they cheered in celebration, one of them noticed me trying to wrangle in my horse and made his way closer to me. He set his arms apart, cupping his hands, and slowly opened his mouth. I realized what he was going to do. My body stiffened up as I prepared for what was to come. It was only then that the Indian dropped his hands and rode off with a satisfied snigger.
Like a jewel on a crown, I would study its leather handle, there was not much else I could do with it. Even if I slid off my horse, I could hardly pick it up, even with my feet. And suppose I did escape; with no sign of a town nearby, I’d surely die of thirst out in that maddening desert. In my anger, I spat at Chris’s face, summoning whatever moisture I had left in my mouth, hitting the cheek of his limp face. A victory in my eyes, but an inconsequential one. I raised my head to look around and to keep my neck from locking in place.
It was in the distance I saw it. The dark cross stood tall in a shimmering haze, instead of planted to the ground, it seemed as if it was floating slightly as it towered over me. Dangled to the cross was the Lord himself above me. His head hung limp as his thinning, disheveled hair covered where his eyes would be. His jaw was slack, opening his mouth ever so slightly to reveal his sickly yellow teeth. The rest of his body was weak and skinny, but most importantly, rotting. Though he was still nailed to the cross, it was clear as day his body was moments from falling apart. His skin was peeling like old paint and what flesh he had left was slowly sliding off him as maggots crawled through his orifices.
“I reckon yew didn’t do this to yourself?”
I turn to see a man ride up next to me on his horse grinning. The man had sandy-colored hair and a thick mustache wearing a snow-white colored hat. I couldn’t even muster up the energy to answer him back, not even fully certain if he was of this world.
The man took out his gun and aimed at the rope tied to the tree branch. A loud CRACK could be heard as he hit the rope. The horse finally took off and I came crashing to the ground. The last things I saw were the man’s black boots as he climbed off his horse before I lost consciousness.
I felt a warm liquid run down my face and my eyes began to stir awake.
My eyes snapped open, assuming the worst had happened. Thankfully, what I saw was a canteen of water running down my face, held by the same sandy-haired man. Once he noticed I was awake, he capped up the canteen and his stern expression switched to a toothy grin.
“Thought I’d lost ya there,” he said, tying the canteen to his horse’s saddle. “Be a shame if yew were sent away too early.”
Even after he told me that, I was still drifting in and out of consciousness. As my eyes were beginning to open again, I felt my back against a rough surface. I looked up and saw that I was at a tree different than the one I was set to hang at, this tree had actual leaves which provided relieving shade from the scorching heat. The sky around me was painted with additional purples, reds, and oranges as the sun began to set. The man’s horse, a grey stallion with white spots, was standing near me nibbling at what little grass miraculously grew from the desert floor. I looked down at my hands were still bound with the same itchy rope.
“Y’know when I saw yew,” the man continued while reaching into his saddle bag. “I thought you were just a poor fella having ‘imself a hell of a day. Especially getting tangled with the McGowan Crew, assuming the fellow I saw melting on the ground next to yew was really Chris McGowan ‘imself. I was ready to cut yew loose and send yew on yer way.”
He pulled out a folded-up piece of paper and brought it over to me.
“Until I got a good look at ya and realized this was an act of God and yew ain’t just some poor fella, Sam Kennedy.”
He unfolded the paper to reveal it was none other than my wanted poster:
SAM KENNEDY/CAPTURED ALIVE IS $400, CAPTURED DEAD IS $200
“Theft, bank robbery, murder, aggravated assault, yer a regular scourge on the earth, aren’t you? Got a pretty penny on you, that’s fer sure. Truly an act of God I found yew before ya hung.”
“How so?” I croaked.
The man looked confused as if he’s never considered that. “Well, I just told yew,” he said. “God kept them McGowan boys from stringing yew up.”
“It was the Indians that killed them that kept them from stringing me up,” I replied. “Maybe it was their God that kept me alive.”
That set him off good. His bemused grin turned to a sour grimace.
“Them beasts wouldn’t know the sun from the moon.” He growled. “The only ever sense they had was given by our Lord to kill them Irish bastards. And answer me this, if yew have all the answers, why would those savages even keep yew alive in the first place?”“Well, they ain’t exactly cut me loose.”
“They ain’t exactly let ya hang either. Why do yew think that is? ‘Cause God gave them the sense to realize yew were here sent fer me, Jonesy Moore.”
Though his argument didn’t convince me, I will admit I was stumped as to why that Indian didn’t just let me hang or just kill me himself. I had no use for him, and I doubt even he would’ve lost sleep at night over doing it. Instead, I came up with a different response.
“I’ve been on this earth for a while now,” I replied. “I don’t think any of the things in my life can be ruled as ‘an act of God.’ Even after the War, it didn’t make my family no difference. If there was a difference between a slave and a sharecropper, I couldn’t see it if you told me. All the skirmishes and dustups I’ve gotten myself into, wasn’t no God that saved me, either the bastard missed, or I did. All the run-ins I’ve had with the law, wasn’t no God that saved me, my horse was simply faster than theirs, or slower. If God was there during all those times, I couldn’t notice him if you pointed him out to me.”
Jonesy was gathering up branches during my speech, piling them up in preparation for a fire.
“Can’t expect God to hold yer hand through everything now, can ya? God gives us the freedom to make our own choices. Can’t blame him just because yew made the bad ones.”
“You said I was sent on that tree for you to find,” I spat. “Which one of us chose that, you or me? ‘Cause I for damn sure didn’t ask to be anyone’s bait.”
“God can’t save those who don’t wanna be saved,” Jonesy said simply. “And he rewards those who do.”
After a dinner of hardly warm beans, prepared and force-fed by Jonesy, I laid down on the sandy dirt. Although I desperately wanted to sleep, my racing thoughts, as well as Jonesy’s farts, kept me awake. Jonesy’s knife and gun were on his belt hanging on the horse’s saddle and even I don’t have the craft to lift either from his belt without waking it up. Jonesy and I both knew I wouldn’t know up from down in that desert, that’s why he was so comfortable sleeping for the night, I reckon. Running was out of the question, regardless. Then, I tried thinking if I could escape while I was brought to whatever town he was reporting to, commandeer me a horse, and ride off. That wasn’t gonna work either, seeing as I’d be gunned down before I’d make it out of the stable. Ready to accept what was to come, I finally drifted to sleep.
I awoke to the sound of Jonesy’s horse whining loudly, snapping my eyes open. To my surprise, Jonsey was trying to settle down the horse while it was bucking and neighing a distance away.
“Settle down, girl! One scorpion ain’t gonna kill ya!”
As I sat up, I noticed Jonesy’s belt lying on the ground, knocked off the horse’s saddle when she got stung. I inched my way towards it while making sure Jonesy was distracted. I used my feet to dislodge the knife from the sheath before scurrying back to where I was resting. I quickly fumbled the blade to cut on the ropes, most likely nicking my fingers in the process. Once I felt the ropes come loose, I hurried to put the knife back in the sheathe as Jonesy finally settled her down and walked her back to the smoky fire pit. He reached down to pick up his belt.
“Yew would’ve thought this girl was shot at the way she was actin’!” Jonesy said bewildered. “And right after I had the perfect dream!”
Feeling particularly good about myself, I decided to mess around with him a bit.
“What was the dream?” I smirked.
Jonesy looked down on me with a disapproving look. “Not that it would interest you none, but I happened to get a vision from the Lord.”
“Is that so?”
“Yessir, I did. It happened right here at this campsite, but instead of the fire, it was Jesus on the cross Himself surrounded with golden light. The cross must’ve been ‘bout eleven feet tall, towering over me the way it was, made from this beautiful, shimmering wood. And on the cross was Jesus Christ of Nazareth. The strange part was, the light was so darn bright, I couldn’t even see what He looked like! It was just a blurry figure of Him, but no doubt in my mind it was Him.”
“You just said you couldn’t see him.”
“He was there on the cross, I just couldn’t get a good look at him exactly.”
“Y’know, I had a vision of him too.”
“You did?” His hand began to lower to his Colt. “Or are you just trying to get a kick outta me?” he asked with a snarl.
“No, no. I’m telling the truth, honest. Right before you got me down from the hanging tree.”
“Well, what happened?” he asked excitedly.
“I was seeing the same things you saw. Instead of the tree that was set to hang me, I saw the cross with Jesus and all.”
“I’m guessing you didn’t see him either, huh?”
“The opposite, honestly. You wanna know what I saw?”
Jonesy finished fastening his belt as he heard that, snapping his head up in shock.
“What yew see?”
“A rotting, disgusting, corpse.”
As I began to chuckle to myself, Jonesy drew his gun and aimed it at me, and for whatever reason, I didn’t need to laugh anymore.
“Now, I’ve been nothing but hospitable to yew. I could’ve let yer black body dangle off that tree and just brought ya in for a lower pay. I gave ya water, beans, and rest even after you disrespected my Lord. But after that little remark, yew done flat-out spat in his face, and I don’t know if I can let that go unpunished.”
“Just telling what I saw, is all.” I shrugged.
“That ain’t what ya seen!” Jonsey screamed. “Yew were probably just delirious from the sun, that’s it!”
“And who’s to say you weren’t delirious from those beans?”
Jonesy cocked back the hammer from his gun. In an instant, I dove out of the way, scooped up sand and rocks, and threw it in his eyes. He roared in pain as he raised his arms, barely missing my head as he fired. I got up to tackle him to the ground and the gun skittered from his hand to the floor in front of us. We were both entangled in each other as we tried to go for the gun. Jonesy reached in his belt for the knife and tried to drive it into my chest. I put my hand up to block the knife and it drove through my hand. I roared and fell back in pain. Despite the pain, I yanked the knife out of my hand and tried to lunge at him, but he kicked me square in the chest sending me back down to the ground.
Jonesy was still crawling for the gun before I stabbed him in the thigh and climbed over him to grab the gun. Once I had it in my hands, I turned around to see Jonesy dive at me with the knife. I dropped the gun and held my arms forward to keep him from thrusting the knife into my skull. I struggled to keep the knife from descending, but Jonesy was putting all his weight into it. Even his eyes were trying to pierce into mine with a crazed and hungry desire until he momentarily looked up. Once he did, his eyes were glued to whatever it was he saw as if he was entranced, and because of that, he took some of the pressure off the knife. I reached my hand to grab the gun and bring it to the side of his skull.
He came down hard to the ground beside me and I immediately jumped up and aimed the gun at him. With no hesitation, I fired, sending a bullet through the back of his skull. Blood erupted from the back of his head as it hit the ground with a wet thud and moisturized the dry dirt. I stood over him for a few more moments, basking in my victory. Once I looked up, I noticed what Jonesy was looking at.
A short distance away from me stood a man sitting on his horse. The man wore all dark grey clothing as if he were a pillar of smoke. The horse he rode stood perfectly still, not even flicking its tail, and its eyes were glazed and cloudy. Despite this, you could still determine there were signs of life in the horse. Although cloudy, its eyes were bright and alert, it had a beautiful grey coat to match its rider, and its body was not sickly or frail, but healthy and strong. The man immediately steered the horse towards me, and my body tensed up in anticipation. The air went dry and frigid as they drew closer, the teeth in my mouth began to hum steadily, and the hairs on the back of my neck rose with perfect rigidity. I wanted to run, fight, and yell at the same time but my body refused to obey me.
But as the horse strode towards me, I tried to get a good look at the rider, but to my surprise, I couldn’t make out his face. Not as if his face was covered, but as if he had no features to discern. His face shimmered like a ripple in a pond. He continued his travel, not even stopping or turning his face to me as he rode, carrying on with complete indifference as if he did not see me kill a man. The air began to heat up again, my teeth settled down, and my hair began to fall again.
Even as I live today, I still haven’t the slightest concept of what it was I saw in that desert, and I am beginning to doubt if what I could even be explained. Soon, after the stranger was a good distance away from me, I realized whatever had happened was not going to bring me closer to town, so I began my journey, taking Jonesy’s horse with me after settling her down. But as I did, I could think of two things: There was no more water in Jonesy’s canteen, and that was not the Lord.
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