Fistful of Feet by Jordan Krall Read Free Book Online

coyote or pronghorn while mother stayed at home and did housework, eagerly waiting for her men to get back. It was all just so splendid. She couldn’t stand it any longer.
       June grabbed the starfish in her hands and hugged it tightly. She didn’t feel sick anymore.
       “Mother loves you.”
       

 
    CHAPTER NINE
       
       Calamaro was enjoying Stacklee’s company. The man was kind without being feminine, tough without being an asshole.
       “You headed somewhere in particular?” Stacklee said, downing another whiskey shot. “Or are you just drifting through this wonderful desert of ours?”
       “I had to get as far away from home as possible,” Calamaro said.
       “Where’s home?”
       “New Jersey.”
       Stacklee said, “So it’s bad back east? I always hear people talking about how great it is.”
       Calamaro put the shot glass to his lips but then put it down. “Not that great.”
       “I guess all sorts of shit happens everywhere. Can’t escape it, eh?”
       “Nope.”
       Stacklee could see that the topic of conversation had changed Calamaro’s mood. He went from happily drunk to drunkenly sullen. “Sorry I brought it up.”
       “My fault,” Calamaro said. “I guess I never expect for the past to come up in conversation even though it always does. One memory can crush my peace of mind in a second.”
       Stacklee screwed the top back on the whiskey. “Something happened to you, huh? Something bad?”
       “Yeah,” Calamaro said. The color drained from his face.
       “I need to keep my big mouth shut.”
       “No, don’t worry about it,” Calamaro said. “I think about it anyway so there’s no use in hiding it. I had a family once. Wife and daughter. They were killed.”
       Stacklee dropped his head and looked at the floor. “Sorry to hear that. I really am.”
       “I know things like that happen all the time but it wasn’t from a sickness or accident. A bunch of Union soldiers killed them both. Thought my wife was a spy for the Confederates since she had family in Kentucky.”
       “Shit,” Stacklee said. “I don’t know what to say.”
       “You don’t have to say anything but now you know why I’m exploring this wonderful desert.” Calamaro forced a somber smile.
       “I was you, I wouldn’t tell Betty about it. That’s the kind of thing makes her cry. She’s tough and all but she’s still a woman.”
       Calamaro nodded. “I think I’ll head back to my room. Need to rest, get my head right.”
       “I understand. You take care,” Stacklee said.
       Calamaro left the brothel and walked back to the hotel. He had enjoyed spending time with Stacklee. Though he had never known a black man personally, Calamaro never had anything against Negroes. The ones he did come in contact with had been no different than the white people he knew. They might not have been as well-dressed or well-educated but they had the same virtues and vices as anyone else. For that reason, Calamaro never understood why people gave Negroes so much trouble.
       Nix Morrow and his two friends were a different story. Calamaro had known people like that his whole life. They were bullies, plain and simple. It was satisfying to see them intimidated.
       Then Calamaro thought about the gold.
       There were rumors that a renegade Confederate soldier named Bert Cavanaugh stole a cache of gold and hid it in Screwhorse. Cavanaugh disappeared and now the gold was up for grabs. Calamaro thought it might be nice to find that gold and move on to California where he could start a new life.
       Once he was in his hotel room, Calamaro laid on the bed without even taking his boots off. He stared at the water stains on the ceiling. The stains were in the shape of a woman’s shoe. Then there was the sound of high heels on a hardwood floor and soon, the smell of the worn leather of a woman’s shoe mixed with