When Devils Play in the Pale Moonlight
by BamBoncher
I wrote this as a submission for a weird west anthology, but alas, it didn’t make the cut. I’ve poked around to see if it would work elsewhere but haven’t come up with a good fit for it, so I’ve decided to post it here for your enjoyment - I need more stories anyway!
Hope you enjoy it!
UPDATE: I’m very grateful to have found that the list “Top in Fiction” has included this story in their week 22 roundup of best fiction on substack. They even gave me a nifty medallion as a keepsake! If you are interested in what they have gathered, the link can be found here:
Top In Fiction Volume 1 Issue 22 Nov 30 to Dec 6, 2024
The hunter’s moon hung in the dark sky, illuminating the Kansas prairie in moon-glow bright enough to cast shadows across the landscape. All lay eerily quiet, save for the rustling of the grasses in the light breeze. The soft thump of Ruby’s button boots on the dusty road was almost profane in the cloying stillness. The autumn air held a cold bite, and the wind stirred a few strands of long red curls across her face from under the felt hat she wore and wrapped her skirts around her legs, but she continued on with steady steps, keeping her eyes on her destination that lay ahead. The moonlight was bright, but she still held a hooded lantern to light her path, its warm glow a welcome companion on the lonely road. Her other hand clutched the handles of a worn carpetbag.
Ruby stopped at the intersection of two roads and shook off the chill that skittered down her spine. It was more than the cold of the night air; a tinge of otherworldliness lay over the location that left her nerves on edge, a warning to get away from whatever ghosts haunted the landscape. She shoved the urge aside and straightened her spine in resolution.
She raised the lantern high but away from her face and took a long look around her. Dry, yellow grass stretched to the west whence she’d come, while a large wild rose bush, bare from the frost, stood sentinel over the southern road. To the east was more grass. A dark line of fencing ran the length of the road from the east and around the corner to the north, the cornfields beyond barren now that harvest had ended. A ratty scarecrow sagged from its crossbar near the dirt track, its painted face smiling at her from beneath the straw hat perched on its burlap head. A weather-worn signpost marked the fence corner. She could just make out the words “Fort Dodge 20 miles” on the top marker and “Petersburg 15 miles” on the bottom.
Ruby pulled a silver watch from the pocket of her wool coat and flipped the ornate cover open to reveal the face in the lantern light. It read 11:55 pm.
“Well, I suppose I should be gettin’ started,” she muttered to herself, closing the watch and putting it away. She set her lantern down and moved to the middle of the crossroads, checking to be sure she stood dead center. She pulled a sachet from the depths of the bag and, from it, poured a line of salt in a wide circle, giving herself plenty of room within to move around. She set her carpet bag down outside the arc and gently lifted an old, worn fiddle from its depths.
Ruby looked up at the moon’s pale face and fingered the delicate strand of beads with the smooth cross that hung around her neck. Would heaven approve of what she was about to do? She shook her head to banish the thought and refocus on the task at hand. She pulled a silver dollar from her pocket and turned the shiny coin over in her fingers a few times, building up her courage with the movement, before gingerly laying it on the ground in the center of the circle. She then straightened and, with a deep breath, pulled the bow across the strings.
The instrument sprang to life with a haunting folk medley, its notes echoing down the road and across the fields in a flowing lament. Another light gust of wind bent the grass in waves across the landscape in a rhythm that kept time with the pace of the song. It pressed against her, chilling her, but it was more than the eerie moan that set her blood pounding in her ears; beneath the cold, she felt something unseen coming nearer, something that sparked dread in her heart. The breeze died as she concluded her song with a final ringing note, leaving the air hanging heavy around her. She lowered her bow to her side and stood in the center of the circle, holding her breath, waiting for…something.
Clapping suddenly broke the silence.
Ruby whirled around to see the smiling face of a short, rosy-cheeked man who leaned against a fence post along the eastern road. He wore a bowler hat cocked merrily on top of his head, along with a black tailcoat and a green brocade waistcoat. White spats peeked out from beneath his trousers. He smiled cheerfully, but something malicious glittered behind the bright hazel eyes.
“Bravo!” He clapped again. “Bravo! That was quite the show, Young Lady, quite the show indeed! One would think you were performing before a crowd of hundreds in a music hall instead of standing alone in the middle of nowhere and throwin’ away good money.” He held up a familiar silver dollar, and she glanced to her feet, startled to see that the one she had laid down was gone. “It does make one wonder why.”
Ruby licked her suddenly dry lips. “I-I’ve come,” she coughed a little and tightened her jaw, annoyed at the timidity of her voice, “I've come wanting a word with Mr. Scratch, the demon with the white wood fiddle. I’ve followed the rules and made my payment and now I wish to converse with him.”
“You do, do you?” the man began rolling the coin across his knuckles. “And what would a fine, Christian young lady such as yourself be wanting with just such a fellow as Harry S. Scratch?”
“I wish to challenge him.”
“Challenge him!” the man laughed. “Whatever for?”
“ Sixty years ago, he beat a man name of Sean O’Leery down Macon-way in a fiddlin’ contest,” Ruby answered. “He cheated the poor man’s soul from him. I’m a aimin’ to get it back.”
“Cheated, you say?” the man shook his head. “The way I heard it, he lost it fair and square.”
“He cheated him,” she insisted. “He set him up right pretty, he did, catchin’ poor Sean when he was in his cups and not thinkin’ straight. Sean would’na ever gotten into a contest with a demon had he had his full wits about him.”
The man slipped the coin into his waistcoat’s pocket and leaned back to lay his arms along the top rail of the fence. “Poor Sean, as you call him, was an arrogant young man who thought a mighty high of himself and learned a hard lesson in humility. He knew what he was doing and he lost fair and square. And a deal’s a deal. Says so in the contract young Sean put his mark to.” He flashed her an apologetic smile.
“Then I wish to renegotiate the terms.”
He dismissed the notion with a wave of his hand. “You weren’t party to the deal, Lassie.”
Ruby lifted her chin. “I’m the man’s granddaughter and his only kin left and as such, I’m in charge of settlin’ his affairs afore he passes on. This deal lays heavy upon him, it does, and I wish to ease his heart before he faces final judgment.”
The man doffed his hat and held it over his heart, his face sliding into an exaggerated, mournful expression. “It's truly a sad day to hear of the coming loss of your loved one, and while I’m sure his imminent departure from this mortal coil does weigh heavy upon him,” he flipped his hat back onto his head and folded his arms, ”the contract is binding. Sean O’Leery will be called upon to pay in full, and soon, I promise you that. Kinfolk or not, I’m afraid there is nothing you can do to stop it.”
He pushed away from the fence and sauntered around her. “Unless,” he tapped his chin with a finger in contemplation, “you have something you could offer in return? Something that Mr. Scratch would find interesting?”
Ruby turned within her circle, following his progress. “What if I offered him a deal o’ my own?”
The man laughed. “Well now, this is a most interesting proposition we have here; it truly tis. But,” he looked her up and down, “while Sean O’Leery was known to be the best fiddlin’ man in Georgia state, you are unknown. What be your credentials, Lass, to think that Mr. Scratch would find your offer worth his time?”
She lifted the fiddle in her hand. “You heard me playin'; that’s why you come to the summons. Said I was good enough for a concert hall you did.”
“That I did, but that doesn’t mean you have the chops to challenge Mr. Scratch himself. He only plays with the best of the best, you know.” The man regarded her for a moment. “However, as I am always on the lookout for fresh talent to recommend to Mr. Scratch, I’m willin’ to give you a chance to prove your skill. A test, if you will.”
She frowned. “What sort of test?”
The dandy smiled. “Simple, really. You play a tune that will make that there scarecrow,” he pointed to the sagging hay-man hanging on the other side of the fence, “come down off his pole and dance.”
She looked at the scarecrow in disbelief. “Make it dance? And how am I to do that? I’m no enchantress.”
“Ah, but I happen to be a purveyor of the arcane and mysterious ways of the other realm,” the man tapped the side of his nose with a wink. He leaped up onto the fence rail in a single bound and walked the length to the mannequin. He pulled a golden snuffbox from his waistcoat and took a pinch of powder from within, which he blew gently toward the scarecrow before snapping the box closed and putting it away as he sat down on the rail. He leaned forward onto his knees, facing her. “You play a lively tune skillfully enough, and I promise that scarecrow will dance as pretty as a maid on May Day.”
Ruby looked from her fiddle to the scarecrow to the dapperly dressed fellow on the fence rail in uncertainty.
“Go on,” he encouraged. “Prove you are indeed a scion of Sean O’Leery. If you want to free your grandfather’s soul, this is the way to do it.”
She closed her eyes for a moment, suddenly unsure, before taking a deep breath and looking up at the bright moon. “Saint Brigid, let not your protection fail,” she muttered as she set the fiddle to her shoulder and raised her bow.
She began a fast jig, filling the air with a jaunty tune she had learned at her grandfather’s knee, her fingers flying up and down the fingerboard in a series of slurs and triplets that skipped and waltzed through the air like the swallows for which it was named. She unconsciously tapped her toes in time with the beat.
The scarecrow shivered.
She played the second round with more ornamentation, her hips now swaying, sending her skirts fluttering around her legs as she danced a few steps. The music enveloped her, warming her soul like a comforting blanket.
The scarecrow’s gloved hands shifted.
She slid up an octave with the start of the third verse, playing even faster than before, her bow a blur across the strings, sending the spritely tune coursing across the landscape as though it were a living thing set free from captivity.
The scarecrow gave a tug, then another, and with a final, mighty pull, fell to the ground in a heap. It lay still for a moment, then stood up on shaky legs and straightened its shirt cuffs.
Ruby nearly skipped a note in her shock but quickly gathered her wits and continued playing, watching in fascination as the stuffed man’s head began to bob with the tune before it vaulted over the fence rail and immediately began a wild and clumsy jig, its arms gyrating with its comical dance and lively hops. She laughed out loud at the ludicrous display, hardly able to believe what she was seeing.
She brought the song to its climax and ended with a bow toward the dancing scarecrow. It dipped so low in return that its hat fell from its head, sending it scrambling to catch it and nearly falling face-first onto the ground before springing upright and settling it back where it belonged with a firm pat. Its painted smile seemed almost sheepish.
Ruby turned to face her judge and nodded toward the scarecrow standing beside her. “Well? I have passed your test.”
The dandy clapped his hands as he slid to the ground. “That you have indeed. Congratulations, Lassie, you have set the scarecrow a dancin’, showing you have skill and more besides.” He tipped his hat to her. “However, it takes more than skill to play against Mr. Scratch.”
“What?” She blinked in confusion. “What do you be meanin’?”
He simply smiled before fading from view.
“Hey! Come back here!” she turned in a tight circle, searching the moonlit road for any sign of the dapper fellow. “I passed your test!”
“That you did, Sugar, but that was only the first audition,” a sultry, feminine voice answered out of the night.
Ruby whirled around to see an ebony-skinned woman standing in the middle of the northern branch of the road. Her jet hair wove around her head in an ornate braid decorated with sapphire beads throughout, matching the blue of her silk dancing dress that barely reached below her knees. Her dark eyes, framed in impossibly long lashes, shone beneath a smear of silver eyeliner, and her red painted lips glinted in the lantern light.
Ruby frowned. “Who are you?”
The woman sashayed to the edge of the salt line. “I’m your second judge, Sugar, the–” she looked at Ruby from toe to head and flashed a smirk, “assessor, if you will.”
“The assessor? To be assessing what? I passed the dandy man’s test.”
The woman laughed and nodded at the scarecrow that stood watching them. “You did indeed, but skill isn’t everything. There are plenty of players in the world who know all the techniques. Mr. Scratch isn’t interested in them. He’s looking for the cream of the crop, those who stand out above the rest.” She arched her brow. “So, Honey-child, can you put your soul into your music? Can you stir the heartstrings of those who listen? Lighten the spirits of the burdened?” She leaned forward and lowered her voice to a sensual whisper. “Do you have passion?”
“Yes, I think so,” Ruby wrapped her arms around her body, feeling conscientious under the woman’s penetrating gaze.
“You think so?” The woman sniffed. “Either you have it, or you don’t. Passion drives you and leaves you aching for more, even when it hurts. It makes you willin’ to give up anything just for one more sweet taste of the tempting fruit. Nothing is more important than the thing that lights your passion.” She crossed her arms. “Do you have that fire in your heart, Child? Does your passion drive you no matter the cost?”
Ruby closed her eyes and thought of the feel of the instrument in her hand, of the delight that playing it brought to her soul, of the rhythm that hummed within her joints and marrow at all times, aching to be released in a plethora of notes. She looked up at the woman. “Yes. I have that passion.”
“Well then, Child, prove it.”
Ruby grit her teeth at the woman’s patronizing smirk. “How?”
The woman moved past the scarecrow and stopped in front of the tangled rose bush. “This will work nicely.” She kissed the fingertips of her right hand, then blew across them toward the briers. The barren vines quivered for a moment, then lay still.
She turned to the young woman. “Play a song of passion. If it truly lies within your soul, if you truly can stir it to life and set it into your music, then the rosebush here will bloom.”
Ruby looked from the lifeless bush to the scarecrow, who waved at her in encouragement. She met the woman’s challenging gaze. “All right.”
Ruby settled her fiddle beneath her chin and calmed her mind, searching for that little spark that lay deep down inside. She drew the bow across the strings once more and focused her attention on the music - not on her skill in playing, but on how playing made her feel and how to express those emotions through the vibrating strings beneath her fingers. She smiled, feeling joy blossom to life within her being.
The tune she played was sweet and tinged in melancholy, an old song that spoke of the beauty of a last rose of summer blooming on its vine. The music flowed through the air, calming and soothing, in gentle waves of sound that washed peacefully over those within hearing range. The words of the song flitted across her mind, adding depth to the emotions driving the song, and Ruby waltzed around her circle, stepping in time to the music as though she and it were dance partners in the moonlight.
The scarecrow’s head tilted to the side, and its shoulders lifted and dropped in a mimed sigh, enthralled by the music. It sat down tailor-style in the dirt and leaned on its knees with its head cupped in its hands, listening intently.
Beside it, the rose bush trembled and stirred, its branches turning a dark green. Emerald buds appeared on the stems and sprang open with the second verse, spreading and flattening into shiny leaves that glistened silver in the moon's glow. The wind rustled the new foliage in a gentle whisper, almost sentimental in its passing.
Ruby took no note of the miraculous happenings around her, her mind and heart caught up in a bittersweet mix of emotions and memories stirred to life by the song. Her fingers lovingly caressed the instrument in her hands with little conscious guidance from her thoughts, and she did not see the white bud swell amongst the leaves, nor it bursting open in a dazzling bloom of ivory petals. Only after the final notes faded in the cold night air did she open her eyes and gasped to see the beautiful blossom before her.
The scarecrow came out of its trance and pointed excitedly toward the lovely flower.
The saloon girl plucked the rose from its stem and smirked in amusement at the astonishment on Ruby's face. She arched one elegant eyebrow as she twirled the stem between her fingers. “So you do have the fire in you, Sugar. Well done.” She took a sniff from the flower, then suddenly tossed it towards the scarecrow. It caught it with both hands and cradled it against its chest.
“You have the skill, and you have the passion. Now we’ll see if you have staying power.” She winked at Ruby before turning to saunter off into the dark. The last things Ruby saw were a flash of petticoat and a glimmer of blue dress before the woman disappeared from sight.
She glanced at the rose that the scarecrow held and put her hands on her hips. “Now, whatever be the meanin’ of that?”
The scarecrow shrugged and put the rose through a hole in the brim of its hat.
“It means your final test is one to see if you have the resolve to finish what you have started.”
The deep, ominous growl sent a chill down Ruby’s spine, and she spun around to peer down the southern road, trying to find the source of the voice. Inky shadows slithered from out of the grasses on either side of the dirt highway and merged in a serpentine swirl, coalescing into a dark shape that loomed tall against the moonlit sky.
Ruby squeaked in sudden fear and nearly stumbled outside of her circle, backpedaling away from the imposing figure. The scarecrow scrambled to its feet and skittered around her, away from the shape. It leaned out from behind her for a peek.
The figure stepped into the light of her lantern, revealing itself to be a hulking, muscular man wearing a bearskin cape that hung to his knees, his bear-head hood pulled low over cruel eyes that looked out with contempt from beneath black eyebrows. A claw necklace wrapped around his thick neck, and blue-green tattoos crossed the reddish skin of his bare chest that glistened in the light above fringed deerskin leggings and knee-high moccasins. He carried a tall spear of white wood in his hand, its tip sharp and decorated with eagle feathers.
Ruby gulped. “Are-are you another o’ the workers for Mr. Scratch?”
His dark eyes bore into her. “I am.”
“A-and would you be comin’ here to give me yet another test to see if I’m worthy of Scratch’s time?”
He nodded curtly.
“So what do I need to be provin’ to you? I’ve shown my skill to the dandy and my passion to the saloon gal.”
The man snorted in derision. “You have skill, and you have passion,” he spoke, his voice thick with menace. “Those will only get you so far. As a last test, you must prove you will stay when ill winds blow, when the storm breaks upon you with the force of blizzard snows, when you are abandoned and alone to face the dragon in its den. Are you willing to sacrifice everything to see your goal through?”
A rock formed in Ruby’s stomach as unwelcome thoughts sparked into her mind with his words. What if you lose? Do you really think you’re good enough to win? Isn’t that the same mistake your grandfather made? She swallowed hard against the fear that choked her, wavering for a moment, but memories of her grandfather’s bright smile and the love that showed from his gaze whenever he looked at her steeled her resolve and smothered the doubt. No, she pushed back against the tempting voice in her ear. I won’t be letting you stop me now.
She straightened and faced the terrible figure. “Yes. I intend on having my word with Mr. Scratch, no matter what it takes. You just tell me what I need to do to be provin’ it, and be quick about it. The night is passin’ fast.”
The tall man sneered at her bravado. “Valiant words. But foolhardy. It is easy to declare one’s courage when under the protection of another. But how brave would you be should that protection fail?”
“I don’t know what you be meanin’.” Ruby didn’t like the predatory glint in the man’s eyes.
“Did you really believe that such a thing as that,” he pointed to the thin white line of her ward with the tip of his spear, “would protect you against one such as you seek to summon? Foolish mortal.”
He raised his spear towards the sky and chanted a phrase in an unknown tongue. Lightning flashed in the sky in answer, charging the air, and a loud crack of thunder reverberated through the ground, making Ruby jump. She watched with growing dread as dark clouds rapidly filled the sky and blocked out the moon’s glow, shocked at how fast the storm grew in power. A blast of icy wind roared across the prairie, nearly knocking her from her feet, and she spun to put her back to it, pulling her coat tighter against the intrusion. A single drop of rain hit the ground, followed by another, then another. Rain began to fall outside the circle, turning the dirt of the road into a muddy morass dotted by growing puddles.
Ruby watched in dread as the water pooled against the ring and began to dissolve the outer edge of salt. She looked up at the dark man in dismay. “You can’t do that!”
“And who says I cannot?” he mocked. “You are a fool, believing you could contend with ancient powers beyond your ken. We tolerate your arrogant demands because it amuses us, and for that we will give you a single opportunity. Flee now and save your miserable life, or remain and face the fate you have courted.”
She hugged her fiddle to her chest and stubbornly gathered her resolve. “I will not be runnin’. Tell me what be your test.”
“Very well.” He stepped back and waved his spear in a long, low arc, stirring the shadows beside him. Twin shapes formed, growing in height and length until he slammed his spear onto the ground. In a blink, two large, ferocious black hounds sprang into the light, skidding to a stop in the mud just outside the circle. Ruby screamed in terror at the sight of their glowing red eyes and dripping fangs and shied to the furthest edge of her circle away from them, her fear nearly unhinging her sanity. They snarled at her and padded around the edge of the circle, their razor-sharp claws leaving deep indentations in the mud.
The Scarecrow jumped at their appearance and stumbled backward in obvious fright, hitting a puddle with a splash. It scrambled across the muddy track and back across the fence before leaping up to catch the crossbar of its post and swinging up to the top in a single bound. It wrapped its arms around its knees and huddled down on the bar. One of the hellhounds watched it and snorted.
Ruby turned her horrified eyes back to the man. “What be the meanin’ of this?”
“Play, Girl, if you can,” he taunted. “Play music that would soothe the savage beast. Calm the hounds before the rain completely erases the circle you stand within, or they will tear you apart.”
One of the hounds snapped at her, its massive jaws clamping shut mere inches from her hand. Ruby shrieked and jerked away with a start. Keeping her eye on the animal, she set the fiddle to her chin and attempted to play, but her trembling hands scarcely held the bow and the sound she elicited was an off-key screech instead of a gentle tone. She lowered the bow with a wince and took a deep breath to steady herself. After a moment, she tried again.
Soothing tones rose from the instrument, tentative and quiet at first but growing steadier as she focused on the music and let the lullaby calm her nerves. One of the beasts growled in front of her, causing her to start and play an off note, but she quickly covered the mistake and continued on. The lullaby was an old one, a traditional tune she had learned from a Welshman in a railroad camp in Colorado when she had been a little girl. The man had sung the tune in a clear tenor voice one night during a terrible storm, and the song had warmly soothed her fear, sending her off into peaceful dreams. She drew on that memory now, thinking of the words he had taught her and let the melody flow through her.
The music ignored the raging storm, its soft notes floating through the air and bringing tranquility in their wake. The storm lessened its rage, and the rain settled from its driving fury to a steady pattern, then to a lighter drizzle. The melody enveloped the hounds and their snarling and snapping slowed, though they continued to pace around her and occasionally lifted a lip to bare their wicked teeth.
Ruby moved into the second verse with a lighter heart, playing with more surety as her fear slipped away beneath the peaceful quality of the lullaby, the song soothing her as much as it did her audience.
The scarecrow slowly let one leg drop as it rested its chin on its hands and watched her with a dreamy tilt to its head.
The hounds’ steps slowed even more, and their heads dipped. One sat down in the mud and yawned before laying down on its belly, though it still watched her. Before long, its mate sat down beside it, giving its massive head a shake and settling it onto its paws. As Ruby slipped into the last verse, it gave a final snort, then closed its eyes in sleep. The first hound opened an eye one last time to peer at the young woman before it, too, dozed off.
Up on the crossbar, the scarecrow’s head dipped once, then twice, then a third time before settling on its chest, joining the hounds in sleep. It rocked a little as it breathed deeply until it overbalanced and tumbled from its perch to land on the ground with a thud. It jumped to its feet with a startled shake of its head and arms and looked around wildly before dusting itself off and shrugging sheepishly at her. It leaned against the fence post to listen to the remaining notes of the song. It started to clap its hands as she finished, but jumped and shot back around its pole when one of the hounds snorted in its sleep.
Ruby sighed in relief and met the impassive expression of the man in triumph. Something vaguely resembling approval crossed his face, and he nodded once before tapping his spear on the ground. Instantly, the rain stopped, the clouds dispersed, and the hounds disappeared along with the puddles, leaving the ground dry as though it had never rained a drop.
Ruby glanced down to see that the salt circle, though much thinner, was still intact. “I passed your–” She started to say, but her words faded when she saw the man was gone. She huffed in irritation and looked at the scarecrow. “Now what?”
It shrugged.
She returned to the center of her circle and waited, straining to hear anything above the pounding of her pulse in her ears. The air lay still and heavy as minutes ticked by in silence. She shuffled uneasily, growing restless. “Come on. I’ve passed your tests. Where be you?”
A jangling sound accompanied by footsteps softly thumped behind her.
She whirled around toward the western road, the road that she herself had traveled that night, to see a man walking towards her in measured strides, his spurs jingling with each step. He whistled a jolly tune, looking to be a harmless person out on a simple moonlight stroll. Still, something sinister emanated from him, a dark aura that sparked a growing dread within Ruby’s heart. She stood still and watched, though every nerve in her body vibrated with tension.
The man stepped into the light of her lantern and stopped.
He was handsome, tall and lean in the prime of his life, with silver tipped black hair tied back beneath a white brick cowboy hat adorned with a single raven’s feather. He wore white trousers, a blue striped shirt topped with a white leather vest, and a long duster coat that nearly reached the tops of his riding boots. A silver clasp shaped like a raven with obsidian eyes held together the ends of the string tie he wore.
He withdrew a cigarette from his vest pocket and lit it with a strike of a match against his spur. He lifted the roll to his lips and coaxed it to life with a few strong puffs, regarding her with ice-blue eyes from above his pencil-thin mustache.
Ruby swallowed, feeling exposed under the sharp gaze. “Wh-who are you?” she blurted, unable to stand neither the silence nor his stare any longer.
“Don’t you know, Ruby Rose McCalister? You sought an audience with Mr. Scratch.” He held his arms out wide and flashed her a bright smile. “Well, here I am!”
She jerked in surprise. “You know me?”
“Of course I do.” He smirked. “I’ve known about you since the day you were born. Ol’ Sean is right proud of you, you know. You’re the apple of his eye.” He began a slow walk around her, studying her form with a raised eyebrow. “You’re the spittin’ image of your late mother, though you have your father’s eyes. Right pretty as a picture, too. Then again, so was Emmaline.”
Ruby’s eyes widened even more. “You knew my mother?”
Scratch nodded. “I’ve known your family for quite a while now. After all, Sean O’Leery owes me, and I keep tabs on my debt holders.” He took another draw on his cigarette and stopped to face her. “In fact, I just finished paying my respects to my old friend Sean tonight back in Dodge City. Figured it was the right thing to do and all. Poor man is not long for this world. Frankly, I’m surprised to see you here and not by his side, giving him comfort until his last.” He tapped the ashes of his cigarette onto the ground.
Her heart seized. “He’s not dead yet, is he?”
“No, not yet. But soon.” Scratch crossed his arms. “I’ve waited a long time for this particular debt to be paid. But Sean will be givin’ me what he owes soon enough.”
Ruby stiffened in indignation. “Hasn’t he paid you enough? You’ve cursed his life, you have, taken everythin’ he ever valued.”
“Not everything,” Scratch gave her a knowing look. “Besides, I didn’t curse him. It was his own arrogance and pride that brought him low, not me. ” He put his cigarette back in his mouth. “You’ll want to take that matter up with the other side.”
She clenched her jaw. “You’re the one who has claim on his soul.”
His smile grew wicked. “That I do.”
“Then it's to you I be comin’ to bargain with.” She looked him in the eyes. “I wish to make a deal with you.”
He laughed and began his circuit around her once again. “So I’ve heard. And just what do you have to offer me that would be worth the value of a man’s soul? I have no need for money, no need for jewels.” he flashed her a leer. “Nor am I interested in pleasures of a carnal sort.”
“I have my own soul to bargain with.”
He raised an eyebrow. “A tempting offer. And what kind of deal do you wish to make?”
She raised the fiddle in her hand. “A contest, just like you offered Sean years ago. Iffin’ I win, both I and my granddad walk away free and your deal with him is done.” She took a deep breath. “Iffin’ I lose, then you get my soul as well as his.”
“My, my,” Scratch mused. “Quite the offer. I would wonder, though, what your grandfather would think of it.”
She raised her chin. “He doesn’t know I’m here. And it wouldn’t matter what he says; my soul is my own to do with.”
“Indeed.” He contemplated her for a moment, then nodded. “My associates thought you were quite the entertainment, and I believe they were right. You do have gall!” He took another drag on his cigarette and blew the smoke out in a steady stream. “I’m open to a game to pass the time. What are your terms?”
The hunger lurking in his eyes chilled Ruby to the core. “One o’ us plays a song; Iffin’ the other matches or plays it better, they pick the next song in the challenge. It keeps goin’ until one trips up the pattern or can’t play the song. Catch is the tune has to be one known to the other. If you win, you get my soul in the bargain; if I win, you tear up the contract you had with Sean O’Leery and leave me and mine alone from now on.” She stuck out her hand. “Agreed?”
“Agreed.” Scratch shook the offered hand and Ruby winced at the feel of his ice-cold palm against hers.
He dropped his cigarette to the ground and stubbed it out with the heel of his boot, then snapped his fingers twice. Suddenly, a fiddle appeared in his hand, an ivory instrument of such exquisite beauty it took Ruby’s breath away. A sudden aching desire to touch it, to possess it, flooded her mind, and her hand lifted before she realized what she was doing. She jerked the appendage back and fisted it against her thigh.
She understood now why her grandfather had made his deal all those years ago.
A pen appeared in his fingers and he held it out to her. “Make your mark on the fiddle and sign your doom.”
She took the pen in hand and leaned forward to sign but paused at the sight of another name scrawled across the face. She squinted to read it, then gasped - it was her grandfather’s name in his own handwriting!
“Fitting, don’t you think?” Scratch nodded to the signature. “You signing your name beneath his, since you are putting up your soul for collateral.”
She swallowed hard and put her name beneath her grandfather’s, her signature shaky and much less confident than his. The pen disappeared from her fingers.
Scratch gave her a low bow. “Well? Since you issued the duel, I believe I have the right of first challenge?”
Ruby nodded.
Scratch slid the bow across the strings of the white instrument in a long, wailing note that raised the hair on her neck, then settled into a lively folk song well known to fiddlers throughout the south. It was one of the first songs new players learned when taking up the instrument, and Ruby knew it well. It was a simple song but had room for plenty of ornamentation, and Scratch showed his skills in the first verse. His playful cuts and graceful rolls reverberated through the air, making the tune infectious, and Ruby felt the urge to tap her toes along with the rollicking beat in spite of herself. She could not deny he was a master of the instrument.
The scarecrow kicked its heels as the energy of the music pushed it to move, and it settled into a humorous square dance with an invisible partner, twirling and skipping across the road with delightful steps and hops in time with the beat.
Ruby caught movement to the east out of the corner of her eye, and she turned to see the dapper dandy leaning against the fence, clapping in time to his master’s playing.
He gave her a nod and a wink.
Scratch finished the first verse of the song with a flair and raised a challenging brow. “Your turn.”
Ruby took a deep breath and dove into the second verse of the song, putting her heart and skill into the tune she knew well. She played fast and light, her bow skipping across the strings with as much added embellishment as she could fit into the familiar melody, striving to match Scratch’s skill and surpass it. She made it through without a single mistake and ended with a flourish amid the muffled sound of the scarecrow’s claps.
Her rival nodded begrudgingly. “Well done. You may make your pick.”
She paused for a moment to think, then raised her bow and began to play a rousing Swedish walking song she had learned from settlers on the prairie when she was a teen. The ganglat was bright and breezy with a steady rhythm that lightened her heart and brought a smile to her face despite her circumstances. She waltzed around her circle as she played, dipping in time to the marching beat, and smiled as the scarecrow joined the dance, twirling and high stepping from across the thin salt line.
Laughter pulled her attention to the north, and she saw the saloon girl holding her skirts and swishing them back and forth to the tune’s rhythm.
Ruby finished the song and exchanged bows with her dance partner.
Scratch did not wait a moment before launching into the second verse, easily matching and exceeding her skill with the song, playing it fast yet steady in a higher key that accentuated the notes and sent them ringing across the prairie.
He ended on a high note and gave her a wink. “My turn. Let’s see how well you know this one.” His new song started slow and mournful, the slurs sweet and sad with each tug of the bow across the strings, the music simultaneously captivating and haunting. The instrument almost wept under his deft hand, the emotion of the piece vibrating through the audience, and the air felt like it sighed as he completed the refrain.
He paused for a moment then flashed her a quick smirk before diving into the next section of the piece in a flurry of fast-paced taps and trills that cascaded from his fiddle in a dizzying pace, his fingers moving so quickly they were a blur across the strings.
The furious beat ensnared the scarecrow, sending it twirling and jumping across the road in a lively gypsy dance, but Ruby’s heart sank. She had heard the song before, when she and her grandfather had spent a harvest one year in California picking peaches alongside Romani workers. The wandering folk had fascinated her with their exotic looks and colorful clothing, but the folk songs they played at night when the work was done had intrigued her most. She had watched the fiddlers play with speed and skill she had thought impossible, and though she had practiced hard, she had not been able to master the fingering necessary to play the difficult patterns.
She jerked at the sound of a low growl and turned wide eyes to the south to see the dark man and his hounds standing at attention, watching their master play. The man leered at her, and she twisted away.
Ruby looked into Scratch’s eyes and watched a slow smile spread across his face as he played. She dropped her gaze, knowing her expression had given her away. Oh, Granddad, she thought miserably. I am so sorry, I am. I wished to free your soul and am fixin’ to lose mine in the bargain. She looked to the setting moon, thinking about the frail old man that lay on his deathbed in the town just beyond the horizon. I am sorry. I thought I could win this, but me own pride led me right into a trap of me own making, and I don’na know how to escape. She reached up and clasped the wooden cross that hung at her throat and cast her eyes skyward. Please, help me!
Her opponent finished the song and lowered his bow. “Well? You do know the song, don’t you?” he taunted.
Ruby could not lie to him, not if he had indeed been watching her family so close. “Yes, I know the song, but it has been a while and I do not know it well. I think I can play it if you give me time.”
Scratch smirked. “Don’t take too long; dawn is coming on fast, and I have places to be and debts to collect.”
Ruby turned her back to her rival to stare across the rosebush to the grasslands beyond. A rustling amongst the branches caught her attention, and she frowned, distracted by the noise. Suddenly, a white dove burst from the bush and flew into the air, its feathers glistening in the moonlight as it circled once, twice, then three times before settling onto the scarecrow’s crossbar.
She stared at the bird and it stared back at her, almost knowingly. In that instant, she felt the ghostly sensation of a calming hand on her shoulder. Do not fear, my daughter, it will be alright. The unheard words pressed upon her mind and peace washed across her distraught spirit, sparking hope within her heart.
Ruby closed her eyes and hummed through the tune her opponent had played, trying to remember the timing. Her toes began to tap, and she lifted her fiddle to her chin.
The scarecrow stood in the road with its hands to its mouth, watching her worriedly. She gave him a tentative smile before beginning to play.
She was hesitant at first as she felt out the meter, trying to picture the hands of the Romani fiddlers, how they held the instrument, and how their fingers slid along the strings so quickly. Memory suddenly flashed into her mind so vividly she almost thought she was back at the camp from long ago, feeling the ground vibrate with the stomps of the dancers, smelling the smoke of the cook fire, and hearing the laughter and encouragement from the audience. The lead player’s picture filled her mind and the sight of his hands captured her attention. Ruby copied his style, following the slow pace to the end of the first segment of the song. Her heart hammered in her chest as she watched the man in her mind pause dramatically before plunging into the wild refrain.
She dove in with him.
To her great surprise, she found herself playing the difficult piece she had failed to master before, her hands almost moving of their own accord as they mimicked the ghost in her memory perfectly. The memory-man flashed a bright smile at her, then vanished as she opened her eyes.
Ruby laughed and danced as she finished the verse and dove into the chorus, the music swelling within her and encouraging her to twirl around the inside of her circle, her fingers flying up and down the fingerboard. The scarecrow kicked his heels in delight and danced with her, leaping and gyrating wildly with the furious beat.
She finished the song with a dip towards her dancing partner, then looked into her opponent’s eyes.
Scratch’s expression was stony. “Well enough, I suppose. Make your next choice.”
Ruby stood for a moment, searching her mind for what to play next, her eyes roaming around the scene. Coming to the dove, she met its eyes and suddenly knew. Lifting her fiddle to her shoulder one last time, she turned toward the dim glow growing on the eastern horizon, closed her eyes, and began to play.
The hymn was sweet and solemn, an ancient canticle from the homeland of her ancestors from across the sea. She played the tune prayerfully, remembering her mother singing the words with reverence in the old tongue, and her grandfather holding her in his lap as he translated the words in her ear. She recited those words now in her head, imploring the heavens with them as she poured out her soul in the music.
The melody was simple yet powerful, swelling across the area in a wave of emotion that pushed back the oppressive evil. The sliver of hope within her heart grew and blossomed into joy as she surrendered herself to fate. She played through three verses before finally coming to a close, feeling a little disoriented as she opened her eyes with the last note. She glanced toward the scarecrow that stood with clasped hands solemnly beside her, then turned to face her opponent.
Scratch’s face was red with fury, his eyes blazing. He clenched his jaw and scowled at her. “Our agreement did not include religious music.”
Ruby held her ground. “Nor did it forbid it. You know the song, do you not?”
He ground his teeth. “Yes.”
“Then, per our agreement, you either play the next verse or you forfeit.”
He gripped the handle of his fiddle tightly. “You cheated.”
She raised her chin. “I did no such thing. We agreed only that the other should know the song. Nothing was said about the type. You stated ye knew the song; then play it or forfeit.”
He whipped the white fiddle to his shoulder and slapped the bow onto the strings with a screech. He stood trembling, his teeth clenched as he struggled to move his hand but, he could not bring himself to play a single note.
He finally gave up with a roar of fury, slamming the fiddle to the ground and throwing the bow like a spear across the road. The scarecrow barely dodged the projectile.
Scratch stood with his fists clenched and pinned her in place with a dark glower of pure malice. “You thought to play me the fool, didn’t you?” he hissed.
Ruby clutched her instrument to her chest and took a step back. “No, I didn’t.”
“Oh, I’m thinkin’ you did, Lass.” The Dandy pushed off from the fence post and pulled a garrote from his pocket. He wrapped the ends around his hands and pulled the wire taut.
Ruby whirled around at the sound of a gun cocking. The saloon girl held a double barrel derringer in her hand. “Cheating to win is unsportin’, Sugar.”
“An act that deserves to be punished.” The dark man stepped forward with his spear ready. His hounds growled and tensed, ready to spring.
Scratch stabbed his finger toward her. “I will not be mocked, Child.” He sliced his hand through the air and a gust of wind blew sharply across the road, kicking up dust and salt and forcing Ruby to duck away with a wince. When she opened her eyes, she found her circle of protection gone. She gasped in horror and her heart started pounding as she looked into the menacing eyes of her opponent.
“I had thought to allow you to live, to use you for my own ends, but now, I will see you suffer.” Scratch took a step towards her.
Ruby spun around, looking for an avenue of escape, but Scratch’s servants moved in to block all paths. She clutched at her necklace and sank to her knees in fright.
“You will pay dearly, and then I shall return to Dodge and take what is owed me.” Scratch loomed over her, his wickedness pressing down like a smothering blanket, taking her breath. “Your grandfather will join you in hell soon enough!”
The scarecrow dove around Ruby and dropped into a boxer’s crouch between her and her enemy, attempting gallantly to protect her, though its whole body trembled in fear. Scratch sneered at her would-be hero and swept his fist between them. Instantly, the scarecrow blew apart in a shower of straw and dust. Ruby yelped as its battered hat settled with a thump in the dirt in front of her.
The others closed in.
Ruby huddled into a ball on the ground, wrapping her arms around her head, and screamed.
A bird’s sharp cry echoed from above, lifting the cloying sense of evil and allowing her to draw a breath. She heard Scratch shout in frustration and the others cry out in dismay before the air imploded with a pop and a bright flash she saw through her tightly closed eyelids.
Something clattered to the ground beside her with a twang.
Warmth enveloped her, and she he peeked from between her fingers to see the bright edge of the morning sun crest the horizon, spreading its warm rays across the frosted prairie. Movement pulled her attention upward, and she watched the dove circle high above her head before disappearing into the east.
She glanced around the roadway in wonder. She was alone. Scratch and his minions were gone. The rosebush was once again barren. The scarecrow hung on its pole, whole once more, its painted smile turned towards the morning sun. A single white rose tucked into the band of its straw hat glistened in the daylight.
Ruby climbed to her feet, shaking and giddy with relief and excitement. Tears gathered at the corners of her eyes, and she bowed her head in a moment of thanksgiving.
She turned to pick up her dimly glowing lantern and hit something with her foot, sending it skittering away with a clang. She turned, and her breath caught at the sight of the white wood fiddle lying a few feet away, gleaming in the morning light. Ruby gingerly lifted it from the ground, holding it reverently as she examined it. Her breath caught at the sight of the word “Free” covering both names in golden ink.
She clutched the fiddle to her chest, laughing and crying in sheer relief. She quickly put both fiddles into her carpetbag and blew out the lantern. She looked to the east one last time and dipped into a curtsey, then, with a skip and a laugh, she turned back to the western road and Dodge City, looking forward to delivering the good news.
Her grandfather was free at last!
the end
For those interested, I chose to use songs that would have been known in American in the 1870’s and spent a lot of time on Youtube trying to find just the right pieces. Here are links to the ones I chose:
Second Test: The Last Rose of Summer
First Competition Song: Boil Dem Cabbage Down
Second Competition: Ganglat Fran Mockfjard
Loved it!
This was so evocative!!