The Curse of Mescalero

             At first glance, it was easy to miss the man under the cedar tree. The silhouette of his slouching body faintly extended beyond the horse underneath him. He might be dead. Jeremiah scanned the barren stretch of land running for miles. Mesas, like tiny footstools, dotted the horizon. A man could ride in one direction for days and run into no life. The tree rose from the dirt, towering above the bushes and tumbleweeds around it. The gnarled trunk forked into two branches, each sprouting a sparse bundle of leaves, providing the only patches of shade in sight. Jeremiah rode in the direction of the figure, his back tightening. He leaned forward in his saddle as he got within shouting distance.

            “Hey, sir. Are you alright?” He craned his neck to make out any features he could, wiping away the sweat that kept reappearing on his brow. “Sir, are you-” His voice letup as he made out shapes beneath the tree. Two bodies, crumpled down in the dust, kissing the earth. Jeremiah slowed his horse down to a trot, glancing back and forth between the two bodies.

            “Well, howdy there, son.” The voice had come from the tree.

            Jeremiah’s head shot up and locked eyes with the man. He was close enough now to see the rope wrapped around the man’s neck. His eyes followed the rope up into the tree branches. He had his hands behind his back, most likely also tied with rope. Even from here he could see his blue eyes gleaming like sapphires and his wide smile was framed on his face with perfect symmetry. It was a winner’s smile, the kind that could almost make someone forget this was a man tied up with two dead bodies beside him. Jeremiah stopped twenty yards from the man. Their horses faced each other, their heads turned, gazing towards the buttes in the distance. No one moved for a few seconds. Then, Jeremiah turned his horse around and started trotting away.

            “Well, hey, come on, son, don’t leave me here like this.”

            Jeremiah quickened the pace, already planning what he would say to the sheriff in his head.

            “There’s treasure in it for you, if you come help me down.”

            Jeremiah stopped his horse. He stayed like that for a beat, facing away from the tree, frozen in space as he weighed the options. This man was not good news. But, gold was very good news. Gold was a chance to move their family elsewhere. They had been struggling for as long as he could remember. Each of their last harvests had shrunk more and more and they were running out of options. His father had left weeks ago, in a last ditch effort, to bring back home cattle from their cousin’s homestead. Jeremiah had been sent to find his father and bring him back home. The sweltering air weighed down on every inch of Jeremiah’s skin, it clouded his brain. He struggled to think about anything other than the suffocating heat. He finally turned back around and saw the same smile on the man’s face. It made him want to turn back around again, but his mother and sister’s faces flashed in his mind.

“There ya go, boy, make your father proud. And make him rich.”

“I never said I was helping you,” he spat, in a higher pitch than he would’ve liked. “Tell me about the gold. Where is it?” Jeremiah could sense the presence of the two bodies flanking the tree even stronger now. They lay, rooted on either side of the tree, their heads facing inward, burning into Jeremiah’s periphery.

The man’s eyes flicked to the body on his right and his smile grew wider. He closed his eyes and breathed in as he began speaking. “Well, it’s not just any gold, it’s The Treasure of Mescalero.” He spoke like a traveling salesman, Jeremiah was certain if his hands were free he would be constantly slicking his hair back. “However,” he continued, like it was a memorized pitch, “there’s a curse too.”

            “Lemme guess, ‘The Curse of Mescalero’?”

            The man’s smile slowly spread back across his face and he chuckled, “Now, before you go and write this off as a bunch of hooey, labeling me as some ‘outlaw,’ ask yourself, how could I have killed these two men, while I was tied up like this?”

            Jeremiah held his eye line on the man, then glanced down at his horse. “What’s your name?”

            “Coop. What’s yours?”

            “You never told me where this gold is.”

            “Well, it’s far from here. You’d have to untie me and let me take you there. If you want a piece of it, that is.”

“If you know where it is, why haven’t you gone and got it?”

“I’m a little preoccupied at the moment.”

“Don’t you mean ‘tied up?’”

The man bellowed out a rich laughter “Well, aren’t you the clever one. Say, what's a boy like you doing out here anyway? What are you, sixteen?

“So, if I untie you from that tree, you’re gonna lead me to this gold?”

The man bowed his head and closed his eyes, “On my honor.”

            Jeremiah got down from his horse and started toward the man, giving both him and the body on his right a wide berth. He stood behind the man, as far back as he could, while still within reach of the rope. His fingers worked the knot until it dropped from his neck and began swaying in front of them. Jeremiah backed away slowly until he reached his horse and climbed back on.

The man breathed an exaggerated sigh of relief, stretching his neck around, “Much obliged.”

            “Now get off the horse.”

            The man started laughing and swayed his head in two slow shakes. “Now, boy, you’re not going to make me walk this whole way when I have a perfectly good horse right-”

Jeremiah cut the man off as he pulled out the gun he had tucked into his belt. He held it steady at his side.

The man whistled, “Alright, then, boy, walking it is.” He dismounted the horse and continued talking to himself as he approached Jeremiah.

“That’s close enough.”

The man held his hands up, his palms facing Jeremiah, “Hey, you’re the boss here.” He smirked and planted his legs where they were. He stood comfortably and stared at Jeremiah, as if he didn’t have the gun at his hip. His hands were still up.

“Well?” Jeremiah said.

“Well, what, son?”

“Which direction is it?”

The man flicked his wrist, pointing to the left. Jeremiah turned his head, shielding the glares of the sun with his hand and looking in the direction the man had pointed. He saw nothing. Jeremiah raised his eyebrows. “I don’t see anything over there.”

The man dropped his hands down in a shrug, “Well, it’s not like there’s a big red ‘X’ pointing to where the treasure is. It ain’t too close either, we’ve got quite a bit of walking to do. Well, riding, for some of us.”

Jeremiah jerked his gun to the side, directing the man towards the sea of dirt that lay ahead of them.

*  *  *

            “You got a name, boy?”

            “It’s not ‘boy.’”

            “Well, what is it, then?”

            “Jeremiah.”

            The man turned his head and looked back at him. They had been traveling like this for at least a few hours, the man rarely turning back around, even when he spoke to Jeremiah.

            “What are you looking at?”

The man turned his head back around and moved forward, without replying.

“What about you, got a full name, or just ‘Coop?’”

            “Just Coop is fine.”

            “How come I’ve never heard of ‘The Treasure of Mescalero?’”

“Only two people know about it. Alive that is. Those two men you saw, dead, under that tree, they died right after I explained it all to them.” Coop nodded his head to an invisible audience in front of him. “Just dropped into the dirt, outta nowhere. So, for your sake, it’s really best if I spare you the details.” Jeremiah looked back at their prints in the dirt. They trailed off and disappeared at the horizon. He would have even more ground to cover in pursuit of his father.

“You can at least tell me what we’re gonna find there.”

Coop chuckled, “Truth be told, I don’t know exactly what there is to be found. But, I have heard enough stories to know there’s more than enough riches to share.”

“Who’s the second person?”

“Huh?”

“You said there were two people alive who knew about the treasure.”

“Well, that’s me and you.”

Their feet kicked up dust as they shambled along, the cloud trailing them wherever they went. Coop said he knew where he was leading them, but as far as Jeremiah could tell, he had set out on a straight line and followed it for the entire trip. They tread on, every step a battle against the punishing sunbeams, until Jeremiah had watched the sun tick down little by little and finally disappear beneath the ridge. The night air replaced the humidity with a cool, spacious, breeze. It trailed up his back and across his skin, without disturbing the dirt around them. Jeremiah knew the night would soon turn cold.

“You said we’d get there by nightfall.”

“Be patient, we’re getting there.”

He had been giving answers like that the whole time. Jeremiah felt his belt for the gun, just as Coop stopped for the first time since they had set off. Jeremiah stopped too. Coop looked around to either side of him, then up at the night sky.

“This way.” Coop said, as he made a sharp left turn from their path and began walking. “So, where did you get a gun like that anyway, boy? Never seen one white and gold like that.”

“It’s my father’s.”

“Your father a lawman?” Coop had turned back around to face Jeremiah.

“Just a farmer.”

“That’s a lawman’s gun if I’ve ever seen one.” Jeremiah ignored him. “So, what’s a farmer’s kid doing riding out in the middle of nowhere with his father’s gun?”

“What’s a man doing tied up, about to be hung, in the middle of nowhere?”

Coop looked angry for a second, then he burst out laughing. “I like you, you got a quick wit.”

“Just keep walking.”

“Well, I got good news for you, Jerimiah, we’re just about there.” Jeremiah looked around and saw nothing. Night had dropped its lush curtain around them, wrapping them up in a thick cocoon that even the light from the full moon could barely penetrate. Jeremiah turned his head and squinted, making out the glow of a light in the distance.

“We made it, treasure’s just up ahead.”

Jeremiah followed behind, scanning their surroundings and doing his best to make out any shapes up ahead. All he saw was the light. As they got closer, Jeremiah saw it was coming from a lantern, hanging on the porch awning of a house. He grabbed the gun from his belt.

“Stop right there,” Jeremiah said, his blood boiling. Coop turned around and looked at him, his face curved upward in confusion. “You dragged me all the way out here, to some house in the middle of nowhere. This your house?” He gestured with the gun. Coop lifted his hands up and opened his mouth to explain. It was the first time Jeremiah had seen him looking flustered.

“Now, son, I would reckon I was the one who got dragged, you’ve been up on that horse the entire trip. And it’s not just any house, now come on, you’ve trusted me this much, you gotta--Jeremiah, now why are you pointing that gun at me?” Jeremiah watched the slight panic wash out of Coop’s eyes, as he dropped back down into the cool and casual expression he had gotten used to. “You’ve never shot anybody, have you boy?” Jeremiah cocked the gun. “Come on now, don’t be silly, if you shoot me, then no one gets that gold. You’re not gonna find it without me.”

The slamming of a door rocked both of the men’s heads towards the house. A man had burst out onto the porch. A man. He was holding a rifle. He pointed it in the general direction of both of them. “Who the hell are you two and what are you doing here?”

Coop answered, “We mean no harm. We’re just two tiresome travelers. Looking for the Treasure of Mescalero, in fact.”

The man with the rifle lifted his head up from the gun.“The treasure of what now?”

“The famed Treasure of Mescalero. I’ve been told I could come here and you would lead us to it.”

“You mean it isn’t even here?” Jeremiah breathed through his teeth. “You don’t actually know where it is?”

“I ain’t never heard of no ‘Treasure of Mescalero,’” The man called back. Jeremiah sat up straighter on his horse, tightening the grip of the gun he still had pointed at Coop. “I don’t know who told you such a thing, but I sure as hell never told anyone about any treasure.” Jeremiah saw the man raise the gun back up and aim it at Coop “Wait a minute, is that you, Coop?” Jeremiah’s head rocked towards Coop, the gun in his hand following suit.

Coop spoke, unaware of Jeremiah’s gun pointed at him. “Well, hell. I figured this would’ve gone a lot smoother. Yes, it’s me, you idiot. Shoot the kid.”

Jeremiah shot first. He got one shot off, in Coop’s direction before the man with the rifle shot Jeremiah square in the chest. He slumped off his horse before he could even see if he had hit his mark. His limbs draped down like a contortionist as his horse galloped away into the dark. Jeremiah’s body crept down the side of the horse, inching its way down, wrenching out the last few moments of its fluid existence, before it finally dropped down into the dirt, a mushroom cloud of dust rising around him.

*  *  *

Coop slept soundly that night, until the sun had started to creep into his room. There were no bullet holes in him. Jeremiah had missed, his bullet flying through the air, untouched, until it finally dropped down to the earth. He rose slowly, putting on his boots and his coat. He grabbed a shovel on his way out the door and set off. The sky was layered in hues, an orange glow hovering lowest, casting the land in its light. It painted the dirt and made Coop appreciate the warmth it brought, as it eased the biting cold of the night out of the air and out of his bones. It wasn’t long until he saw the body off to his side. The horse was nowhere to be seen, but the boy lay face down in the dirt, three limbs sprawled out and one arm tucked under his body. He started digging. It was hard work, but he took his time. Eventually, he stopped, stood up and eyed the hole he had made. It looked big enough. He knelt down and flipped the boy over, uncovering his left hand, still gripping the revolver. He bent down and pulled it from Jeremiah’s hand, then rolled him over and into the hole. His grave. Coop dropped down to his knee and brought the gun closer to his face. A silver barrel. A white grip. And the initials ‘J.D.’ carved into it. He knelt there like that, for a long time, looking at the boy in the grave. Jeremiah’s face looked back up at him, his eyes eternally frozen looking, towards the sky. Coop tossed the gun into the hole and grabbed the shovel to finish burying him. Dirt rained down on Jeremiah and covered his face.