Chapter 2: Bless'd Be the Lies that Bind
@dollarstrilogyevent Prompts: LIES and BONDS
“The way back to town is only 70 miles…”
Just like that, eh, Blondie? Just like that, after months of trusting your aim and choice of towns. Trusting your timing. What did trusting a lying whoreson like you get me? Should I laugh, or CRY, or scream at God again? No…I’m not wasting a DROP of my sweat for you. Not now…
Tuco walked until a little after sunset. The “way back to town” was actually SIXTY FOUR MILES, you gringo bastard! Well. To a DIFFERENT town.
He did not run, but walked with purpose. Once the moon rose and the temperatures fell, he would be able to rest. He knew which shadows he needed to chase, and walked until…
…There. A Saguaro. THANK YOU, TIO!!!!
His Uncle Hector taught him long ago how to survive in the desert.
That big, spiky cactus was your best friend, but you might have to run off a few other animals to claim it; sometimes even coyotes. Tuco was lucky; only a little Owl.
I’ll find you a nice mouse if you let me borrow a few things tonight!
It did not take long to cut the three strands of braided rope with the prickly, rough spines, but it felt like an eternity. The red marks around his wrists throbbed as the blood came rushing back into his hands, but his thirst was greater, still.
Luckiest-Cursed Bastard Alive, Tuco Ramirez! I am cursed with surviving.
This Saguaro still has its fruit. He bites off a piece and ever so slowly lets it dissolve under his tongue. Again he does this, and again, until he feels enough vitality return to try to find food.
The desert beetles come out at night; they’re bitter, but he swallows them without gagging. The owl returns, having found a bat, and devours it in three quick gulps.
I envy your ability to do that, little friend. My stomach would turn inside out, and that I cannot afford.
Tuco puts the rest of the cactus fruit into his pocket. The sun will be up soon, and he HAS to make it back to town. Alive.
Cursed with Surviving. He owes me money.
Suddenly Tuco realizes that the noose is still around his neck. He pulls it off to throw it as far away as he can, but he stops and looks to see. The uneven “cut.”
You punished me for your own failings, Blondie. You punished me, just like Pablo did.
Pablo didn’t like that Uncle Hector taught him things. Pablo tried to teach him to read, but the letters just ran away from the page. Tuco thinks in pictures.
Tio understood that! Tio knew that I wasn’t dim witted.
Hector taught Tuco how to change the weight of dice, and how to swap the regular ones with the quickest motion of his hands. He quizzed him on which possible card combinations he could be holding when they played five card draw.
Hector showed him how to kill a rich man’s chickens or pigs with poison that would not harm the meat for human consumption. Then, if a poor boy came begging, the “bad meat” would be quickly handed over EVER so generously.
Hector guided him to always be alert for opportunity, because the Land was fickle and the Governments miserly with the likes of them. Clay fields didn’t drain, or crops died without water, and their own animals died or were taken.
“Farmers scrape and bow and grovel to the majordomo for the water supply and to the local government, whoever happens to be in charge that month. Then, one army requisition officer says ‘we need your grain for this cause,’ and another says ‘for that one,’ and then the bandits take what the army leaves behind!” That’s what Tio helped me to see. While Pablo wanted me to read almanacs and holy books and supply catalogs.
And then, that night. Was I 12? I couldn’t even shave yet.
Another full moon. He’d been so EXCITED at the prospect of helping Tio Hector with a bigger “enterprise.” But it was Pablo that came running towards the appointed waiting place, grasped him by the shoulders, and told him that he was in danger. He needed to run.
And I did. Into the desert. But I CAME BACK. And when I came back, Hector was gone and Pablo had joined the church. I KNOW he gave Tio up to the law, and left me to care for our parents. To order from catalog pages whose words ran away from me.
One foot in front of the other. Tuco Benedicto Pacifico Juan Maria Ramirez walks. One foot in front of the other, knowing that he is not far from the town.
It was hot, but it had been hotter in that jail. He suddenly remembers a time, when they lit the beds on fire to get out. Tuco laughed, and felt genuinely happy for a moment remembering that other clever sonofabitch…
What was his name? Dakota? Cheyenne? Maybe I should have followed him out farther West.
West. The sun was on its way West now. But there. There was a BRIDGE, and a bridge means people and usually leads to a town with a mercantile or sutler's store. Tuco picks up his pace now and begins to run. He swears he can almost smell the water.
Words ran, and Pablo ran and Blondie left me there to die. I hope you enjoyed your head start, you bastard! You left me alive, and I warned you what would happen if you did!