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The
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SYNOPSIS
OF OSCAR
by
R. W.
Edie
Copyright
2003 R. W. Edie, Inc.
11 W. La Canoa, Green Valley, Arizona 85614
All Rights Reserved
Captain Joshua
Singletary was caught selling U. S. Army supplies for his own gain. As
punishment Singletary is offered a choice between the military stockade, or the
dubious position of Supply Officer at the frontier garrison of Fort George in
the Arizona Territory. The Captain takes the position as Supply Officer.
Singletary, however, is still trying to rebuild a lost family
fortune by whatever means he can find, or create. The means that presents
the most potential is the same course of action that landed him in the Arizona
desert, the garrison of Fort George, and the town of Toulouse in the first
place--making money from the buying and selling of military supplies for his
own gain.
His current project, actually his only option at the
present, is to try to convince Miss Marie Pegier, owner of M & O Traders,
to enter into some business deals with him from which he can make enough money
to rebuild his family fortune.
Miss Marie Pegier is not Captain Singletary's favorite kind of a
woman. Singletary prefers women who are slight built, light skinned, and
ladies. Marie, fairly robust, and of questionable parentage fits none of
those qualifications. And, to make matters worse, she has a wild cougar
named Oscar for a pet.
After their first meeting, Singletary decides that there is
too much of a bond between Marie and her pet cougar, Oscar. He makes
arrangements with a drunken soldier named Swartz to kill the big cat.
Oscar has his own agenda: He wants to find a suitable
mate for his mistress, Marie Pegier, so he can regain his freedom and become
the wild animal he is supposed to be. Captain Singletary might be that
suitable mate for Marie.
PARTIAL
TEXT OF OSCAR
HISTORICAL NOTE
The town of Toulouse, Arizona Territory, had sprung up from God-knew-where for
God-only-knew what reason. It consisted of one hotel, which boasted of a
restaurant; one blacksmith shop, attached to the livery stable, which there was
one; one feed store, one general merchandise store, one trading post, one
saloon; one whore, attached to the saloon; and according to local legend, the
two "louses" after which the town was named, attached to the whore.
The town served a dozen or so scattered ranches, an unverified number of miners
and prospectors, its own few citizens, and also the military garrison of Fort
George, which lay on the other side of a low range of mountains about ten miles
to the East.
Fort George was also a mystery. No one knew exactly why it was there,
either, or why the name "Fort George." Some claimed that it was
named after George Washington, others claimed that it was named after a more
recent hero, George Armstrong Custer. The old-timers claimed that it was
named after George Hatherfield who was supposed to have been killed by Indians
on the spot where the garrison was built. A small minority claimed that
Hatherfield had been attacked by Mexicans instead of Indians. One woman,
in particular, stated that George Hatherfield had been killed by his wife after
he came home from town with the "two louses" because she knew where
he had been to get them.
Other than the Hatherfield escapade, the only events of any significance to
happen around Toulouse had been the arrival of Marie Pegier, who founded the M
& O Trading Post, and then, later, the arrival of Oscar. As time went
on even those happenings were absorbed into Toulouse's unanswered past,
eventually falling from notice, leaving the town to swelter in the desert heat
and anonymity.
PART
ONE
Civilization, as we know it, ends at the Appalachian
Mountains. On the other side of the Appalachians, to the Missouri river,
is a civilization which we do not know. Beyond that, there is no
civilization.
I
Oscar yawns as he wakes from his afternoon nap. It's
good weather to sleep, hot and dry.
The weather, however, is not the reason Oscar is becoming
lethargic, bored, and disgusted: He is losing his edge--his
birthright. He is, after all, a wild animal--a cougar--not some dog or
house cat lying around waiting to be fed. By nature he is a hunter, a
prowler, the wildness of the desert calls to him every night--but, still, he
waits patiently in the shade of the veranda for his mistress to come out so
they can take their afternoon stroll down the street.
He has long since stopped trying to understand why he is
here.
With yellow eyes he sleepily surveys the street, looking
both ways. The shimmering heat waves distort the false-front buildings
making them appear more out of square than they actually are. A
dust-devil touches down, sending a spiral of gray dust, dry horse dung, and
other debris, pluming skyward. Except for the furious turmoil of the
dust-devil, everything is quiet in the late afternoon desert heat.
Oscar is in no hurry to move--it is still too hot for any
activity. When the sun drops lower in the sky he and his mistress will
take their stroll--unless something of significance interferes, as it sometimes
does.
Right now the only thing of any significance that he can see
is a blue-uniformed rider approaching from the East. Troopers are not an
unusual sight in Toulouse--Fort George is only ten miles away. What makes
this trooper significant is that his uniform has not yet given up its brightness
to the scorching desert sun.
The appearance of the trooper in the bright blue uniform, as
with the appearance of any other new human male, creates a feeling of renewed
hope within Oscar's spirit. Maybe this human male will be the one who
will set him free. Free, is what Oscar wants to be.
However, for some reason, as this trooper draws nearer he
brings with him a feeling of anxiety--a hackles-raising anticipation like the
howling of a dust storm or the roar of a hail storm, both of which beat and
punish the unwary and the unprotected.
Oscar looks to the horizons, trying to locate the perceived
danger. He sees no impending storms. He doesn't understand the
reason for the feeling. He watches and waits.
Two men, old timers, Ted Smith and Ed Jones, sitting in
front of the feed store, chewing tobacco, taking turns spitting, and whittling,
watched the cougar's progress toward wakefulness. Nobody could say, for
sure, the ages of Ted and Ed, but everybody knew that they had been sitting
there for at least the last decade, mauling their chewing tobacco with
toothless gums and discussing whatever passed in front of them.
"Strange animal that cougar." When words
were spoken Ed was usually the first one to speak them.
"Oscar? Yeah, a feller' wonders why he stays with
her." Ted folded his jackknife and put it in his pocket. It
was close to beer-time, and today was Ed's turn to buy.
"What she needs is a man instead of a
cougar." Ed, the biggest and ugliest, was a self-proclaimed lecher,
always making snide remarks about some passing woman, usually Marie Pegier, who
was the most visible woman in Toulouse. "She probably don't know the
pleasures a man could give her."
Ted directed a stream of tobacco juice at the hitching-rail
post. Even the half-smile caused by Ed remark didn't spoil his aim.
He could work, or talk, or do almost anything else, and still spit tobacco
juice with uncanny accuracy. He didn't understand Ed's fascination with
the owner of M & O Traders, but whatever that fascination was, a discussion
on the subject of Ed's love-life, or lack of it, relieved the normal afternoon
boredom. After the tobacco juice connected with the post and ran down to
the ground, he asked: "Would you wrestle that cougar for a chance to
give her pleasure?"
Ed missed the post, as usual. His inaccuracy with a
stream of tobacco juice was well known, and also well documented on the boots
and pant cuffs of unwary passers-by. He leaned back in his chair and
shifted his quid to the other side of his mouth so he could point his words in
Ted's direction without turning his stiff neck too far. "Not
today--but I've seen the day I would have--him and that houseboy, both.
That woman's a mighty fine morsel. Mighty fine." He massaged his
own chest with gnarled fingers.
Ted's cackle was louder than necessary on a quiet afternoon,
even the cougar turned an ear toward them. "Ed, you old fart, you
couldn't handle that woman on the best day of your life--even if you didn't
have to whip the cougar and the Chink, first, to get there." To Ted,
Ed's obsession with the owner of M & O Traders was laughable.
Ed blustered: "You don't know what I can handle
and what I can't."
"Oh, yes, I do. When you was sparkin' Hattie
Morris, I used to watch you through a knot-hole in the hay barn
wall." Ted cackled again.
Ed gagged and choked and blew out his chew.
"Goddamn you!" Being careful not to let Ted see his reddening
face, he stood up from his chair and tottered down the boardwalk toward the
saloon.
Laughing, Ted watched him go; then realized what a terrible
mistake he'd just made--Ed probably wouldn't buy the beer, now, unless he
received an apology first.
Ted stood up, grimaced at the protests from his stiffened muscles,
then followed his companion toward the bar. He'd need to smooth Ed's
ruffles feathers somehow, or else buy his own beer. He glanced at the
soldier riding down the street, noting the bright blue uniform and the
Captain's bars. A newcomer and an officer. He must have done
something mighty bad to be exiled to the Arizona Territory--especially Fort
George. The poor bastard was going to get an education--if he survived.
The two old men tottering along the boardwalk toward the
saloon were of no importance to Captain Joshua Singletary. He paid little
attention to anything which did not effect him directly and the two old geezers
did not effect him directly.
Until recently, he, and he alone, had controlled his own
destiny, and his destiny was to rebuild a depleted family fortune so he could
enjoy the same Good Life as his family predecessors. Not that his
immediate family predecessors had had that much of a Good Life--his grandfather
on his mother's side had been demented, lost in his own world of make-believe;
his mother, widowed at a young age, had been left to raise her son after her
husband had been killed defending his ship. They both had struggled with
dwindling finances, trying to maintain their social position. Captain
Joshua Singletary was determined to carry on the struggle of rebuilding the
family fortune--and succeed, which was more than his mother and her father had
accomplished. His present situation, assigned to Fort George as the
supply officer, appeared to be a setback to those plans. But it was only
a temporary setback. Perhaps it would be very temporary, if he played his
cards right. Today he was going to deal the first card.
He had not been assigned to Fort George because he wanted to
be there--it had been the best of what he had been offered at the time.
As he ricocheted through life, the Captain had used his ancestral New England
mind to cheat his way through the first two years at the military academy, he
had used his muscular body to bully his way through the second two years, and
he had used the combination of the two to bluff his way into two
promotions. However, not long after that, through no fault of his own,
but rather the treachery of a trusted accomplice, he had been caught delivering
supplies purchased with U. S. Army funds to a destination other than the United
States Army garrison for which they were intended.
Singletary had delivered the supplies to a trading-ship
which plied its trade up and down the coast of South America. The ship's
captain, an acquaintance of his mother's, had been looking for cheap trading
goods. Singletary had provided the goods for a share of the profit.
He had enlisted the aid of a fellow officer for the first two deliveries.
His partner had not shown up for the third delivery. Singletary had made
the delivery himself and been caught in the act. He only escaped that
predicament with his rank intact by accepting the assignment as supply officer
at Fort George. He considered the assignment better, if only slightly,
than the stockade, the other offered alternative. His ex-partner was now
a Colonel commanding a regiment which guarded the Potomac River.
At the beginning of his assignment to Fort George, because
of his exile to this place which he considered to be a foreign land where
nothing grew but cactus and greasewood, it had been his opinion that his career
and his ambitions would soon become dried up and withered as everything else,
including the people, that inhabited this land. However, after his arrival
at Fort George, to his relief, he learned that the only supplier of military
goods in the area was M & O Traders, owned and operated by a woman.
The Captain's spirits rose. Women were one thing Joshua Singletary
understood.
In his thirty some-odd years he had learned a few things
about women--they were physically attracted to him, mentally attracted to him,
and basically greedy when it came to money. He was certain, with a little
push here, and a little suggestion there, he could persuade this lady, if
indeed she was a lady, to enter into some business deals with him which would
be profitable for both of them, or at least for him.
On this ungodly hot afternoon, riding a horse that was
barely fit to ride, he was on his way to meet her--Miss Marie Pegier, owner of
M & O Traders. He had already mentally pictured her as a withered up
old crone--otherwise she would not still be Miss, and, living in this heathen
land where men were, at best, rough, uncouth, and dirty, she should be ripe to
be swept off her feet by an officer and gentleman in a fresh-starched
uniform. Singletary knew what kind of an effect the military uniform had
on women.
With military briskness and precision, he tied his haggard
horse to the tie rail in front of the M & O Traders' building. Having
been previously warned about Miss Pegier's reputation for unscrupulous honesty,
and dismissing it as easily surmountable, he undauntedly advanced up the wooden
steps and into the shade of the veranda.
At the top step he found himself daunted. He was
looking into the yellow eyes of a full-grown, half-awake, male cougar.
Singletary, blinking his eyes in disbelief, struggled to
control his bladder. Because of a shortage of weapons at Fort George, the
post commander had decreed that only combat troops could carry firearms.
Singletary was non-combat, his hand reached for his only weapon, his saber,
which would be less than useless in this situation. He could probably run
faster without it.
The cougar blinked back but did not display any
aggression. In fact, he gave Singletary a wide, toothy yawn, like an
overgrown house cat, flipped his tail a couple of times, then moved off to sit
down in front of one of the two doors which provided entrance to the building.
The jingling of the chain that encircled the cougar's neck
gave Josh Singletary a more secure feeling. At least the animal was a pet
and under control. However, his feeling of security was short-lived when
he noticed that the chain was not fastened to anything, it just served as a
collar.
The big cat, after moving to a different place, seemed to
lose interest in him--if it ever had any interest in him. Reason dictated
that if the animal was dangerous it would not be allowed to run loose on the
street, so, feeling in no immediate danger, the Captain released his grip on
his saber and proceeded with his planned meeting with Marie Pegier.
The door, where the cougar sat, had a sign which read,
PRIVATE. The other door had a sign which read, OFFICE. Reason again
prevailed, along with the cougar, and Singletary entered the door which read,
OFFICE.
The young, black-haired woman seated at a desk just inside
the door looked up as he came in. Her black eyes, set wide apart in a
round, olive face, moved from his face to his boots, to his campaign hat, then
back to his face again, in one sweeping motion. "May I help you,
Captain." She spoke with a Southern accent which Singletary disliked
on principle--he had been too young to be in the War, but that didn't make any
difference.
"Yes. I'm the new supply officer from Fort
George, Captain Joshua Singletary. I wish to speak to Miss Marie Pegier,
if I may." He had an aversion to dealing with underlings and hoped
it would not be necessary after today, especially with this one who he already
disliked.
She stood, as was expected when addressing an army
officer. "How-do-you-do, Captain Singletary. I'm Marie
Pegier. How may I be of service to you?"
Singletary was momentarily taken aback, this was not the
crone he had expected. As she stood facing him, he took note that she
filled out her clothes well, too well for his liking. Women with big
breasts and wide hips should dress to conceal them--not reveal them. Also,
the clothes were black, they matched her black hair, and black eyes.
Singletary hated black. It reminded him of death, and witches. His
mother had always threatened to throw him to the witches whenever he
misbehaved.
"I don't need anything, today." Singletary
fought to bring everything into perspective--this was the woman with whom he
planned to enter a business relationship--a necessary business relationship, if
he expected to survive his exile from civilization with something more than
just sun-burned hide. "I imagine we will be doing a good deal of
business in the future. I wanted to come by and make your acquaintance
beforehand."
"I'm happy you did. Please sit down."
Marie Pegier nodded toward the chair across the desk from her. If she was
impressed with his fresh-starched army uniform it did not show in her
expression. Marie Pegier was all business. She was also not all
white.
Singletary swallowed his immediate dislike for the woman and
put on his most charming manner. "Do I detect a Southern
accent?"
"New Orleans," she answered simply.
"And, you, sir?"
"Ohio," he lied. He had no intentions of
telling this Southern woman, who he intended to impress, that he was from
Massachusetts--not this soon after the Civil War.
As they talked, he assessed Marie Pegier. Age--he
could only guess as being young. Nationality--she was what his blue-blood
mother would have referred to as "being of questionable parentage",
probably Creole. Intelligence--above average--far above average.
The Captain decided that he had better go slow. She was not a
scattered-brained socialite, and, knowing the tastes of Western men for this
type of an independent woman, probably not starving for attention.
"May I ask you about your pet?" he questioned--that was a neutral
subject.
"Oscar? There isn't much to tell, except he isn't
a pet."
"You didn't raise him?"
"No, he showed up one morning, after I'd been here a
few months. He's been here ever since."
"You have a chain on him."
"He only wears the chain so some trigger-happy cowboy
won't mistake him for a wild cougar. I never tie him up."
"Where did he come from?"
"I have no idea--neither does anyone else."
Singletary mentally ruminated on that for a while, and then
filed it in his mind with a lot of other things he didn't understand about the
frontier--like the mirages that covered the dry land with nonexistent water,
and the heathen savages who ate dogs and horses, and the half-breed Indian
scouts who, even though on the government payroll, refused to capitulate to
their superiors, and, worst of all, the white men who acted as bad, if not
worse, than the savages. It was unbelievable that anyplace in America
could be this uncivilized.
The most unbelievable thing he had encountered so far was
that the United States Government allowed the things to happen which were
happening. Even the Senior officers at the post allowed civil
disobedience to run rampant--and they were the ones who were supposed to be
maintaining Law and Order. This country would become civilized someday,
if Joshua Singletary had his way. But, first he needed to establish his
own financial superiority--the rest of it would come later--power usually
followed money. Money was power. The lack of money to grace certain
palms was the reason he was stuck in the God-forsaken wilderness in the first
place.
He turned his attention back to Marie Pegier. He
needed to cut this visit short and give himself time to reorganize his
plans. "One other question, and then I'll let you return to your
business," he said. "Would you accompany me to dinner
sometime?" He had learned that women respond well to social affairs.
"I would be honored," Marie answered.
"How about this evening?"
Singletary hadn't expected that fast an acceptance. He
was not prepared for the next step. "I'm afraid I don't know the
best place in town to eat." He doubted if there was one, or, if
there was, if Marie Pegier would be impressed by it, or, if he would want to be
seen there with her. He had always been selective about his female
companions. Marie Pegier would not be a female companion of his
choice. But, he needed to cultivate the relationship in order to
accomplish his ends. Besides, there was no one here, or anywhere near
here, who he needed to impress with his choice of women.
Marie said: "There is only one place that has
decent food. If you would meet me here about seven, I'll be your
guide." She offered him her hand, not in a ladylike manner, but like
a man, to be shook. She was, after all, a business woman, something which
Singletary would have to tolerate if he intended to use her in his plans to
rebuild his family fortune.
Leaving M & O Traders, Singletary gave Oscar, the cougar,
who was asleep in front of the other door, a wide berth. He made a mental
note to put out the word around the post that he would pay a month's pay to any
trooper who brought him the chain with the cat's head still attached--done
outside of town, of course. He would not continue to walk around the
beast. Dealing with a semi-civilized woman would be enough trouble
without having to deal with a semi-civilized cougar as well.
|
The complete
text of Oscar is available on a CD or HTML file for $5.00 including shipping
and handling. It can be ordered through
PayPal, or from R. W. Edie, Inc. 11 W. La Canoa, Green Valley, AZ
85614. PayPal accepts credit cards if you don’t have a PayPal account. ORDER
WITH PAYPAL For more information contact RWEdie@rwedie.net |