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    Rag Soup
    Rag Soup
    Rag Soup
    Ebook277 pages4 hours

    Rag Soup

    By John Locke

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    About this ebook

    Sheriff Emmett Love thought he had his hands full with two witches, two wives, Hopeful Harold, and a passel of flirty, determined women who won’t take no for an answer. But when a mysterious man shows up in Dodge City, unannounced, things really get crazy!

    Preliminary Comments:

    I loved it! I absolutely loved it!

    You buy your ticket with no idea where John will take the story, but you’re always glad to ride the ride.

    Locke’s Rag Soup recipe is a perfect blend of winning ingredients: blistering pace; authentic dialog; crazy characters; improbable situations, non-stop humor; plot twists galore; and big-hearted, good-natured fun.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherJohn Locke
    Release dateFeb 13, 2015
    ISBN9781942899068
    Rag Soup
    Author

    John Locke

    John Locke kommt 1632 im englischen Wrington zur Welt. Nach dem Besuch der Westminster School in London studiert Locke bis 1658 in Oxford. Zwischen 1660 und 1664 lehrt er dort Philosophie, Rhetorik und alte Sprachen. Sein enzyklopädisches Wissen und seine Studien in Erkenntnistheorie, Naturwissenschaften und Medizin bringen ihm früh die Mitgliedschaft in der Royal Society ein. Als Sekretär und Leibarzt des Earl of Shaftesbury ist Locke in Folge der politischen Machtkämpfe in England gezwungen, ins holländische Exil zu fliehen. Erst 1689 kehrt er nach England zurück und widmet sich auf seinem Landgut seinen Studien. Im selben Jahr erscheint anonym Ein Brief über Toleranz, der die ausschließliche Aufgabe des Staates im Schutz von Leben, Besitz und Freiheit seiner Bürger bestimmt. Die hier formulierten Ideen finden in der amerikanischen Unabhängigkeitserklärung ihren politischen Widerhall. Lockes Hauptwerk, der Versuch über den menschlichen Verstand, erscheint erst 1690 vollständig, wird aber vermutlich bereit 20 Jahre früher begonnen. Es begründet die Erkenntnistheorie als neuzeitliche Form des Philosophierens, die besonders in der französischen Aufklärung nachwirkt. Locke lehnt darin Descartes' Vorstellung von den eingeborenen Ideen ab und vertritt einen konsequenten Empirismus. Aus der theoretischen Einsicht in die Begrenztheit der Erkenntnisfähigkeit ergibt sich für Locke die Forderung, daß sich weder ein Staatssouverän noch eine Glaubensgemeinschaft im Besitz der allein gültigen Wahrheit wähnen darf. Der mündige Bürger, der in der Lage ist, kritisch selbst zu entscheiden, wird konsequenterweise zum pädagogischen Ziel Lockes. John Locke stirbt 1704 als europäische Berühmtheit auf seinem Landsitz in Oates.

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      Book preview

      Rag Soup - John Locke

      1.

      PRAIRIE WOMEN ARE a sharp-tongued lot.

      If you ain’t been around ’em much, you might wonder how a wife might come to yell at you like it’s your fault her stove broke ’cause she was cookin’ your dinner at the time. Or how if some strange giant bug shows up on the floor you ain’t never seen, it’s on you to know what it is and how it got there. And God help you if she said Kill it! and you didn’t know that meant get it out of the house first!

      I still get surprised by my Gentry’s moods, but I liken ’em to the weather: ever-changin’, and apt to come at you from a clear blue sky, for no apparent reason. And when they hit, they’re relentless, and overpowerin’. When I’m dealin’ with Gentry or a thunderhead, best thing to do is find shelter, and weather the storm.

      I’m tellin’ all this ’cause she’s been hollerin’ at me nonstop for five minutes, ever since I made the mistake of tellin’ her the new school marm slapped our daughter, Scarlett Rose, across the face this mornin’.

      Scarlett’s almost five.

      "You stand there and calmly tell me our daughter was slapped? Gentry says, madder than a frost-bit mule. In public?"

      That’s my understandin’, I say, hat in hand.

      What type of school teacher slaps little children?"

      "Why, all of ’em, far as I know."

      "Are you insane?"

      I might be, I don’t know. She’s asked me more than once, so I reckon it’s possible. She sees me glancin’ at the bedroom door.

      "Who are you looking for? Scarlett? She’s not the one who hired a violent teacher."

      I decide not to tell her I’m seekin’ shelter, nor why. And anyway, she just said somethin’ I didn’t catch, but it ended with: "You hired her!"

      I did, I admit.

      Are you going to answer me?

      About what?

      "What possessed you to hire a child-beating she-devil?"

      "My understandin’ is she slapped Scarlett."

      What?

      "She didn’t beat her, she slapped her."

      Gentry’s face is three colors of red and about to explode. In times like these I always hope she remembers how much she loves me before she starts in, but in my experience it don’t work that way. In that regard prairie women are more like fires than storms, ’cause a bad storm will quickly give way to nice weather, while a woman’s temper—like a prairie fire—requires time and effort to put out. And when you finally get it under control, there’s a whole lot of char to deal with ’fore things go back to normal.

      She says, What did you say to her?

      The school marm?

      No. Humpty Dumpty!

      "Huh?"

      She rolls her eyes. Yes, Emmett. The school marm. What did you say to her when she informed you she struck our child?

      I apologized and said I’d have a talk with Scarlett.

      "You what?"

      I know from experience she don’t expect me to repeat what I just said. What she means is…well, I ain’t quite sure what she means. But it’s clear whatever I should a’ done with regard to the school marm ain’t the same as what I did. And when she tells me what I should a’ done, I nearly fall over.

      You should’ve slapped her back! she says.

      "Her back?"

      No, chucklehead! Her face!

      I’m tryin’ not to look confused, but I know it ain’t workin’, ’cause Gentry’s gettin’ madder by the minute. She says, "Two weeks ago you shot a newspaper reporter in the hand for talking to Scarlett. But when your precious school marm slaps her, you just stand there and apologize?"

      I ain’t sure what the reporter has to do with the school marm, or why the school marm is suddenly mine, and precious, but I decide not to ask till I’m convinced the fire’s completely out. In the meantime I say, I’m sorry I handled things so poorly. But I hope you don’t expect me to slap Miss Gilmore every time she punishes a child.

      She takes a long minute to think on that, and the more she thinks, the calmer she gets. When her face is down to just two shades she asks the very same question I asked Miss Gilmore right off: What did Scarlett do?

      2.

      OLD TIMERS SWEAR it used to get so hot in Kansas they had to collect the eggs before dawn to keep ’em from burstin’ into flames in the henhouse. They’ll tell you times were so hard the worms used to pull the chickens right into the ground. And who ain’t met the old timer that swears he had to stand tall and carry a stick in the winter to take a piss, ’cause the piss would freeze and he’d have to knock it loose with the stick?

      I grew up respectin’ my elders, and was taught to take their words to heart, but some a’ these stories are harder to swallow than Shrug’s rag soup.

      First of all, who don’t know it takes a Kansas hen twenty-five hours to lay an egg? What I’m sayin’, if your hen lays at seven this mornin’, she’ll give her next one at eight tomorrow, which means over the next three weeks half her eggs’ll show up after dawn no matter how hot it gets.

      Second, in my experience, Kansas weather’s generally pleasant, but given to extremes that range from winters so cold you could fall out of bed and break your pajamas, to summers so hot you’d be tempted to light a fire, hopin’ to cool things off.

      Of course you’ve got your twisters.

      Kansas twisters are another thing altogether.

      If you ain’t from Kansas you’ll underestimate ’em the first time. When you see ’em comin’ your way in pairs or triples, you’ll probably waste time marvelin’ while the other town folk are runnin’ around, tyin’ themselves to somethin’ sturdy.

      But you’ll learn.

      I’ve lived through days so hot my piss wouldn’t puddle, and nights so cold my canteen water froze, but I still ain’t had to take a stick to my piss stream, nor seen eggs burst into flames. For one thing, if piss froze to your pecker it’d hurt like hell to bust it off with a stick. For another, if all them afternoon eggs was burstin’ into flames, what kept the henhouses from burnin’ down? Scarce as wood is in Kansas, if henhouses had ever burned down in mass quantities I expect some enterprisin’ Eastern businessman would a’ seen an opportunity to start a business to replace ’em. But I ain’t never heard of a henhouse-buildin’ business here or anywhere else.

      On the subject of tall-tale tellers, there ain’t many old timers left in Kansas these days, thanks to the war, Indians, bandits, cholera, typhoid, scarlet fever, consumption, pneumonia, brain fever, infections, diarrhea, and yes, extreme weather—it ain’t a place where old folks flourish.

      The reason I’m thinkin’ about tall tales is related to the reason Miss Gilmore slapped Scarlett. Here’s how I put it to Gentry: Scarlett’s been tellin’ the school kids how they’re gonna die, and when, and Miss Gilmore told her to stop tellin’ tall tales.

      And she hit her?

      Not right then. The hittin’ came after Scarlett said the next part.

      Gentry frowns. So tell it.

      Word-for-word?

      Yes, of course.

      Scarlett said Miss Gilmore was gonna die on a Tuesday after gettin’ snake-bit in a shithouse on a Sunday.

      Gentry’s face clouds up again, only this time it’s her that’s lookin’ at the bedroom door. "Scarlett? she yells. Get out here this instant!"

      3.

      I FEEL BAD turnin’ Gentry’s temper onto Scarlett, but it winds up bein’ a good thing ’cause after givin’ her a proper scoldin’, Gentry calms down enough to remember somethin’ she’d been wantin’ to tell me. Oh! she says.

      I look up from the salt block I’m grindin’, and notice her eyes have turned bright and excited, the way I love ’em. Then she says, Have you met our newest visitor?

      I wrap up the salt block, put it away. Who we talkin’ about?

      John Boone.

      Nope.

      "Well, you just have to!"

      Why’s that?

      Because you’ll never guess what he does for a living!

      I sigh. If Gentry says I’ll never guess, she’s probably right. I have no idea. What does he do?

      You can’t give up that quickly! I’m not ready to tell you yet.

      Then why’d you bring it up?

      Because I want you to guess! I’ll give you a hint: it’s good for Dodge.

      I frown. I hate guessin’ a man’s occupation even more than I hate guessin’ if his dog’s gonna bite. But since Gentry’s in a good mood about it, I take my hat off to help me think better.

      Well? she says.

      Give me a sec.

      I want to say he’s a preacher, ’cause that’s somethin’ the town really needs. We had Reverend Murphy, but he moved back to his boyhood home in Springfield after hearin’ his entire family died. With a million ways to die in the West, it ain’t uncommon for an entire family to be called to their maker overnight. But some deaths are stranger than others, and Reverend Murphy’s might be the strangest of all, since his family was killed by their dinner table.

      You might wonder how a dinner table could kill a family, and I’ll tell you in a little bit, but right now Gentry’s waitin’ on me to guess what kind a’ man has shown up that’d be good for Dodge. The reason I know he can’t be a preacher is Gentry’s met him and I ain’t, and I’m the sheriff, which means Mr. Boone’s first stop in town must’ve been the Lucky Spur, the bar and whorehouse Gentry and I own that she operates. In my experience a man who comes to town and visits a whorehouse first ain’t likely to be a preacher. Nor is Gentry particularly fond of preachers, since they usually rail against whores, gamblin’, and drinkin’, which is our livelihood.

      Buffalo hunter? I say.

      No, Emmett.

      Ranch hand?

      She shakes her head. Bigger.

      Politician?

      She frowns.

      I say, Give me another hint.

      When word gets out what he does it could double the population of Dodge in six months!

      Damn!

      What’s wrong? Why are you frowning?

      ’Cause I hate losin’ business more than I hate guessin’ games.

      Why would you lose business to a dentist?

      Dentist?

      What did you think I meant?

      I figured he was plannin’ to put in a whorehouse.

      You think I’d be this excited over a competitor?

      She’s right. I hadn’t factored in her excitement, even though I removed my hat. I take a minute to glare at it before sayin’, There ain’t a dentist within 100 miles!

      That’s my point! We need to make sure he settles here. We could build him a shop, and make signs and put them up along the Santa Fe Trail to let the settlers know we not only have a sheriff and doctor, but a dentist, too! Folks will line up for a dentist!

      Why?

      Gentry gives me a look like I’m as dumb as buttons on a dishrag. You have any idea how many people suffer toothaches?

      Most do, I s’pect.

      Did you know that four of every hundred people die from pains in their teeth when there’s no dentist around?

      I s’pect them figures come from the new dentist.

      She frowns.

      Was he drinkin’ or whorin’? I ask.

      What difference does it make?

      Just curious.

      Both.

      Can’t fault him for that, I guess. Did he say where’s he from?

      "What difference does that make?"

      I reckon I ought to travel to wherever he’s from before we start advertisin’ his abilities.

      Why?

      Maybe he got run out of town.

      "What? Who’d run a dentist out of town?"

      "I would, if it kept him from gettin’ killed."

      She gives me a look of exasperation. "Emmett, what in Sam Hill is wrong with you? Why are you being so suspicious? Who’d want kill a dentist?"

      "I might, if he was a danger to the town."

      That’s ridiculous.

      I decide to hold my tongue on the matter, since my experience with dentists is the complete opposite of Gentry’s, and since I can’t imagine anyone wantin’ to be anywhere near a town that has one, let alone features him on signs. Sure, I could tell her about the two dentists I know of who got shot to death for the pain they inflicted on women and children, and the third who got hanged for killin’ his patient, but that might lead to an argument, and what good ever come from arguin’ with the person you love most in the world? I put my hat back on and decide to have a talk with this liquor-and-whore-lovin’ dentist before Gentry starts letterin’ signs about him.

      I say, You’re right, Gentry. I shouldn’t judge the man till I know him better.

      Her face softens. I didn’t mean to sharp-tongue you, Emmett. I imagine being suspicious is a good quality for sheriffs to have. But you’re a good man, and I know I can count on you to give him a proper welcome.

      I ask how long till dinner’s ready.

      She smiles. Is that all you ever think about? My biscuits and meat stew?

      I smile back. Much as I love them things, that ain’t what comes to mind first when I think of you.

      I know that look, she says, but her smile fades when she sees our neighbors walkin’ past our house, headed toward town. She says, If Enorma asks about my derringer, tell her it’s broken.

      Is it?

      No, but her moon-eyed husband might question you about it.

      She wants him to buy your derringer?

      That’s right.

      I frown. You sure about that? I mean, why not ask for a brand new gun? And why yours?

      I expect it would delight her to shoot me with my own gun.

      Enorma ain’t even fifteen yet. She’s just a silly girl who admires you.

      Gentry shakes her head like I’m the dumbest clod in the field. You of all people should know that with the exception of my tits, Enorma Suiters wants everything I have: my gun, my clothes, my friendship with Rose, my child, my saloon, my husband….

      I know better than to go down that path, so I simply say, She’s our neighbor.

      "Don’t get me started on how you allowed that to happen."

      Good point, since that particular discussion has led to many a cold night. What’d you tell her was wrong with your derringer?

      I said it won’t shoot.

      That’s it?

      It was more conversation than she deserved.

      I pause a few minutes to let her simmer down. Then say, I know it vexes you I sold Ben Suiters the lot next to us. But I had no idea he was engaged to Enorma at the time. She weren’t even livin’ here.

      I know. But it’s just awful for me. Not to mention all the other women in town who keep tryin’ to woo you.

      "Well, I s’pect every man in the county would give up an arm and leg for one of your kisses," I say.

      Men know better than to flirt with Emmett Love’s wife, she says.

      Except for Harold.

      Gentry lowers her eyes and smiles softly. Hopeful Harold? she says. Why, that poor man was in his late nineties.

      "Maybe so, but that never stopped him from askin’ you for a poke. He even asked me if he could poke you!"

      Gentry nods toward Scarlett, to remind me she’s sittin’ at the table and shouldn’t be exposed to talk of men who want to poke her ma.

      I agree, but Scarlett ain’t payin’ a lick of attention to us, so I ain’t too chastened over it.

      Hopeful Harold was 96 when he fell in love with Gentry back in the days when she was whorin’ in Rolla, Missouri. He constantly tried to buy a poke off her, but she kept refusin’, fearin’ the effort might kill him. He said she could check with his doctor, and one day she did, and the doctor agreed she was right. He told Gentry that Harold’s heart wouldn’t be able to survive the activity, but he also said that Harold’s dreams of bein’ with Gentry was the only thing keepin’ him alive, so he urged her to be kind to him and give him hope that someday she just might give him that poke. So every day Harold showed up at the whore house to ask Gentry for a poke and without fail she’d smile, kiss his cheek, and say, Not today, Harold. He’d say, What about tomorrow? and she’d wink and say, Ask me then, my darling, ’cause you never know.

      No matter how bad things were in Gentry’s life, she always greeted him with a smile and sent him away with hope, and that’s how he came to be known as Hopeful Harold.

      Unfortunately for Harold, I met Gentry and took her away from that life. I ran into him our last night in Rolla, and he had the gall to walk right up and ask me if he could give Gentry a poke before we left. I hadn’t heard the story about him and Gentry, so I told him he was lucky he was in his nineties, or I’d have taken him to task. He said, It’d be worth whatever you do to me if I could poke Gentry just once before dyin’.

      I had to admire his grit, but told him it’d be a cold day before I ever let that happen.

      When Harold heard that me and Gentry went to Springfield, he sold his house and made that perilous journey only to find we’d continued on to Dodge City. That was the year of the severe draught, and

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