Lefty’s Wish

by

Lanin D. Thomasma

 

Lefty carefully lifted the pot of coffee from its place over the campfire and poured himself a cup. A coyote howled in the distance, and at the edge of the firelight, his horse whickered softly and shook his mane a bit. Lefty took a few sips, looking out over the moonlit arroyo. “So, you’re a genie, are you?” he asked.

“Indeed, I am a Djinn,” the slight figure beside him answered. He was a good head shorter than Lefty, with a small goatee that curled slightly upward. He was dressed in flowing silken pants and a brocaded vest, but he looked quite human in most regards. His ears were slightly pointed, and he seemed more to hover above than to sit upon the rock that served as his perch.

“Do you have a name?” Lefty asked, glancing sidelong at the little man. He’d appeared seemingly out of nowhere, and it had taken all of Lefty’s years of experience with the sudden and unexpected dangers of the desert to keep a cool head.

The genie nodded. “My name is difficult to express in your mortal terms. You may call me Hashdrubbabel.”

“That’s quite a mouthful,” Lefty chuckled. “Maybe we can settle on Hash for short.” The little man nodded in agreement. “And you’ve been living in that bottle there for how long?” Lefty went on to ask, nodding toward the ornate vessel, lying where he’d dropped it in the soft sand at his feet.

“That I cannot say,” replied Hash, bemused for a moment. “Years, perhaps hundreds, perhaps thousands. Time is hard to gauge from the inside of a bottle.” He looked beyond the valley, to the desert mesas in the distance. “And now that I am released, I find myself in a place unlike any I’ve ever seen. How is it, Master, that my prison came into your possession?”

Lefty’s eyes narrowed a bit. “You can skip the ‘Master’, for my money,” He said gruffly. “I’ve met one or two rebs come out west, who still put stock in havin’ slaves and masters. But I can’t say I ever liked the idea. You’re Hash and I’m Lefty, and we’ll leave it at that.”

“Lefty, then. As you desire,” Hash said with a nod.

“As for the bottle,” Lefty went on after a moment, “I won that last night in Torchwood. Fella told me he’d bought it off one of those Arabs the army brought over back when they were trying to raise camels out here. That didn’t last long, far as I know. Still see a camel out here once in a while, though.”

“So you won me in a wager,” said Hash with an ironic smile.

“I won your bottle,” Lefty corrected. “Fella told me he’d never opened it. Said there’s some sort of Arab style writin’ on it, something about being very careful with what’s inside.”

“It is wise counsel,” Hash said. “We Djinn are not to be trifled with. But for the sorcery that binds me to your service, I could pose quite a danger to you. As it is, however, I am thus bound, and I therefore await your wish.”

Lefty turned to look at Hash in amusement. “Wish?” he said. “You mean like in the story? A genie pops out of a bottle and gives Ali Baba three wishes?”

“I’m not certain that’s how the story goes,” Hash replied. “But it is essentially true. The number is immaterial. The enchantment merely requires me to fulfill the desires of whomever releases me. Therefore, Lefty, what do you wish?”

Lefty sat for a long moment, listening to the sounds around him. Night was nearly past, and he could already see traces of dawn in the eastern sky. “Can’t say anything comes to mind right now,” he said finally.

Hash stared for a moment. “You … don’t wish for anything?” he said. “But that’s … there must be something you desire. Anything at all?”

Lefty shood his head. “Nothin’ I can think of.”

“What about riches?” Hash said quickly. “I can fetch for you your weight in gold. Surely you’d like that.”

“Fetch me?” Lefty repeated. “You wouldn’t be making it out of nowhere, then?”

Hash hesitated. “Well, no,” he said. “To create gold is a power even the Djinn to not possess. But there certainly stores of gold nearby; I can fetch it to you in a flash.”

“There sure are,” Lefty agreed. “Stores of gold. We call ‘em banks. That’s where they keep it, and they like it to stay there.” He snorted a bit. “So say some bank finds a stack of their gold missing, and I suddenly start spendin’ it. Next thing you know, I’m up on a charge of bank robbery.” He looked back at Hash. “And what’s going to be my defense? I got it from a magic genie? They’d have me either strung up or tossed in a madhouse ‘fore I knew what hit me. No, thank you.”

Hash stared blankly. “All right, then,” he said with a thought. “What about a harem of your own? Surround yourself with beautiful women. I understand that’s a very desirable thing.”

“Don’t really have much use for the ladies,” Lefty said uncomfortably. “Nothin’ against them, I mean. I’ve met some fine women in my time. But a whole harem of them?” He shook his head. “I met a fellow once. Mormon, he was, out of Utah Territory. He had himself four wives. He didn’t seem any happier with them than the folks with just one.”

Speechless, Hash looked helplessly around. “I have yet to meet anyone didn’t have some sort of wish,” he said, half to himself. He looked down at the herd of cattle sleeping peacefully in the valley. “What about success? I can increase your herds, your lands, make you the envy of everyone around you, far and wide.”

“Well,” Lefty said, taking another sip of coffee. “I can’t say I’d object to havin’ a spread of my own. I’ve worked for cattlemen most of my life, and they do pretty well for themselves, far as I can see. Only … “ His voice trailed off, lost in thought.

Hash looked at him. “Only … what?” he asked.

Lefty furrowed his eyebrows. “It’s what you said just now. About being the ‘envy of everyone’. I asked a preacher man once about what that means. Envy. Talked a lot about it, so I figured he’d know. He said it means wanting what somebody else has, and that’s nothing but trouble.” He took another sip of coffee. “He knew what he was talkin’ about. All those cattlemen I’ve seen over the years, every one of them had a target on their back. And the bigger the spread, the bigger the target.” He shifted a bit. “I’ve had to do some tough jobs in my life, but nothin’ like what it takes to be a real successful rancher. I think I’m happier right where I am.”

Bemused, Hash stared at the old cowboy. “What kind of man is this?” he asked bleakly. “Who could possibly be so content with so little? Do you not realize I can offer you the world?”

Lefty looked at the Djinn and smiled. “Hash,” he said, “Look around. Take a good look. See the sun over there, just peekin’ out over the horizon? See those clouds, all red and gold like they just took fire? Do you hear the birds getting’ in their first songs, the cattle just beginnin’ to stir? You feel that breeze? There’s only two people in the whole world get to see this. You and me, Hash, and that’s it. Most folks ain’t even awake this early, and those who are, well, they ain’t here, are they?

He stood up, dumped out the rest of his coffee, and stretched his legs. “You want to offer me the world, you say. Well, if the Injuns are right, you can’t really own the world. But here we are, lookin’ at a piece of it that no one else will ever see. And no one, no land survey, no stack of gold, nothin’ can take it away from us. So if we don’t own it, who does?”

He sat back down next to Hash. “Y’see, I get to see this every day. And I’ve been out here for longer than I care to think of. Sure, I’m just an old, no-account cowpoke. I don’t have the things a lot of other folks have. But then, most of them don’t take the time to appreciate what they’ve got. And considering all I’ve got that they don’t, I guess that makes us even.”

Hash shook his head, still unable to look away. “Lefty, you are … astounding,” he said. “I wish I understood things the way you do.”

“Y’know, Hash,” Lefty said with a grin. “I wish you did, too.”

 

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“Well, if it ain’t Lefty! You old polecat, how long has it been?”

“Too long, Dutch. I see the saloon hasn’t tipped over yet.”

“Nope, still pluggin’ along. Let me get you something to wet your whistle. Say, who’s your young friend, there?”

“Oh, yeah. This here’s my partner. Name’s Hash. He’s a … well, he’s from back East, pretty far back East. He’s come out to learn how to be a cowboy, and I’ve took him in to learn the ropes.”

“That so? Well, Pilgrim, welcome to the West. Now, just between you ‘n’ me, Hash, don’t let this grizzled old sidewinder fill your mind up his foolish notions. Cow punchin’ ain’t nothin’ like what you read about in those penny novels you got back East.”

“Indeed, that may be so, my friend, that may be so. But at this moment, I can’t think of anything else I’d rather be doing.”

 

The End