CHAPTER THIRTY

   Leonard woke up next to a tombstone.

   A minute later Clayton sat up, sleepily hocking up phlegm and spitting it through the mouth-hole of his donkey mask.

   Then Sergio awoke abruptly. He was always the last to get up, saying that he had nightmares that he couldn’t escape from no matter how hard he tried. The nightmares were always the same. He was back in the prison camp. A confederate soldier is poking him with a thin, slimy sword. Sergio can feel himself bleeding but when he looks down, he only sees dust falling out of the wounds.

   Then came the machine.

   It was unlike any machine Sergio had ever seen and it always scared him how his brain can create something that didn’t exist. It was made of green metal and red flesh. Its size never stayed the same. At first it was small enough to fit into the soldier’s hands but as it crept closer to Sergio it grew to twice the size of a man. However, in most dreams it stayed small enough that the confederate soldier could hold it while it did things to Sergio that he could never bring himself to speak about.

   The nightmares always ended the same way. A large figure smelling of alcohol and apples would come up behind him and say, “Are you ready for Captain Burroughs?” Sergio would feel a sharp pain in his scrotum and then he’d find himself crawling out of the prison camp and into the burning sun where his frowning father awaited him, shaking his head in disappointment.

   Now fully awake, Sergio stood up. Leonard had the urge to ask him if he had the dream again but stopped himself. There was no use putting the man in a bad mood on the day they were going to pull their gold heist.

   Leonard said, “You ready?”

   “Yeah,” Sergio said, running his hands through his dark hair. “I’m ready.”

* * *

   After he came back from getting his morning coffee, Mayor Douglas found another black envelope lying on top of his grey velvet couch.

   There was no use in opening it. He knew the sort of picture that would be inside. Instead, he put it in his box of teeth along with the first photograph. He then rummaged through the box, looking for a tooth that would perhaps take his mind off the envelopes. He found it. It was a whore’s tooth, cracked and yellow.

   He popped it into his mouth and sucked on it. That always made him calmer. It was almost as if he was sucking the whore’s life away. Later, he would sleep with it under his pillow and dream about the woman he got it from.

   The memories started to get him aroused so he unbuttoned his pants and pulled them down.

   “Jesus Christ!” he said. The red tattoos had spread and now covered not only his crotch and belly but his thighs as well. What was happening to him?

   The new tattoos ruined his mood and Mayor Douglas decided not to jerk off to his teeth collection. Besides, a whole mess of trouble had blown through Screwhorse and he would ultimately be responsible for cleaning it up. Seems like running the town has been more hassle than it was worth. Perhaps he’d go to California and dabble in something that wouldn’t give him such a headache. Maybe he’d invest in the Chinese slave trade. That’d make it easier for him to get pussy, that’s for sure.

   Mayor Douglas took a handful of whore-teeth from the box and tried using them to scrub the red tattoos off his body. When it didn’t work, he threw the teeth across the room like dice.

   He slammed his fists into his thighs, making them jiggle. “Fucking Italians…”

   Then he heard several gunshots in the distance. What the fuck was happening now? The mayor pulled his pants up and headed out towards the jail. He’d have to beat some sense into that goddamn sheriff.

* * *

    After Sheriff Doyle let Tom and Bluford out, he heard the shots coming from the hotel but didn’t move an inch. He just knew it had something to do with that goddamned stranger who had some trouble with Nix Morrow. But Lyons said he had taken care of that, didn’t he?

   Doyle didn’t feel like cleaning up another mess. It was bad enough there was someone going around killing whores. Too much shit happened in Screwhorse and he felt like he was getting too old to deal with it all. It wasn’t that he didn’t care. He never considered himself a bad man but sometimes it was easier just to go through the motions.

   The door swung open.

   “Jesus Christ, man, are you deaf or something?” Mayor Douglas said. “I even heard it from my house.” His face was flushed and his belly looked even fatter than the last time Doyle saw it.

   “Yeah, I heard.”

   Mayor Douglas slammed his knuckles down on the desk. “You get your ass over there and take care of things.”

   “You walked all the way down here just so you can tell me how to do my job? With all due respect, mayor, I’d much rather sit here and let things fix themselves. I’m already busy having to deal with those killings at Betty’s.”

   “Who gives a shit about some dirty whores?” Mayor Douglas said. “I don’t need a goddamn shootout in the middle of my town. Next thing I know, they’re sending in some government son of a bitch to investigate and then I’m out a job. And that means you’d be out of a job, too.”

   “Frankly, I wouldn’t give a shit. Besides, none of this was my doing. Your man Lyons and his three assholes started this shit.”

   “I don’t give a good goddamn who started it. You get the hell over there and take care of it or I’ll have you tied to the railroad tracks. You ever been buggered by a Chinaman? It ain’t pleasant. They know all sorts of tricks that’ll make your ass bleed for days. Do you understand what I’m saying to you? You make any more excuses and I call my friend Shanghai Joe. Got it?”

   Doyle said, “Sure do, mayor. I guess I’ll go head over there, see if I could talk some sense into everyone.”

   “I was told that stranger was dead. Now I’m told by some whore that he’s alive. If that stranger isn’t dead yet, you better make sure he gets that way.”

   The sheriff picked up a shotgun and then stood in front of the mayor. “You keep talking, I’m not going to get a chance to do anything. You done?”

   “Watch that smart mouth of yours or you’ll be picking Chinese teeth out of your ass,” he said, digging into his pocket and pulling out a whore’s tooth. He held it up to show Doyle. “I’m going back to my house for a fuck. When I come back, all this shit better be finished, got it?”

   “Yeah. I got it.” Doyle walked out slowly. He figured he’d take his time looking into things. Who cared if the stranger was alive and taking care of business? Maybe he’d get rid of Lyons and his jackasses. That’d make his job as sheriff a hell of a lot easier.