The Fox and the Snipe

“I seen your horse run off. You hurt?”

Mar 11, 2024

Dr. Clancy is lying on the dirt path leading into the town of Calico. The mud beneath him isn’t from rain, nor is it from a spilled canteen; it’s from his own life spilling out of his head—death’s black halo—the end is nigh.

He’s been lying on this dirt trail for over two hours, and not a soul has come to his aid, not one weary traveler. But that’s not to say he doesn’t have company: three vultures are skipping about nearby, skittish, feathered, hunchbacked pallbearers hiding their greed. They want desperately to pick at him, to rob him of his eyes and lips. He knows that it’s only a matter of time.

It wasn’t nefarious. There was no criminal intent or monstrous event that caused him such harm. No, it was a snake, not particularly big, slithered in front of Caroline, his horse. Caroline’s gone now; she waited around an hour or so, then headed off toward town. He loves that horse. It’s a small comfort to Dr. Clancy to know that she’s made it to town, but he’ll take it; there won’t be any more comforts allotted to him besides the big one, the final comfort.

“You okay, Mister?”

And now he’s hearing things…

The sound of a child…

A small girl…

He opens his eyes and sees her; the sun is haloed around her head—an angel—or is it death’s rattle manifested?

“I seen your horse run off. You hurt?”

“That I am. Don’t suppose you have any way of getting help?”

“What sort of help?” She’s wearing a little blue and white dress, her golden ringlets bounce with each step as she circles his broken body.

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe a doctor?” Dr. Clancy says.

“Ain’t you the only doctor ‘round these parts?” The girl looks down the trail toward the heat-rippled town.

“Suppose I am. Do you know me?”

“I do. I’m the Devil. I’m here to collect you.” She’s smiling, but it’s not a cruel smile. Might even be kind.

The doctor isn’t sure what to say to this. He knew before she’d said a thing that this was true—just a feeling—the Devil was here in front of him, waiting for his body to cease living. But why he would go to Hell, he couldn’t say. He’d been a good man, a God-fearing man. He treated his neighbors well, even let poor Mrs. Codey have her medicine for free when times got tough, and they were tough quite often in Calico, these days.

“You can’t collect me. I’m not dead. Not yet.”

“I’ve got time. What shall we talk about while we wait?” The small child sits down. Her legs would burn on the hot sand if she were not Satan.

At first, Dr. Clancy’s cheek had felt like a piece of meat on a griddle, but now it’s numb. “Well, let’s talk about why I’m on your list. If you don’t mind?”

“No. No, I don’t mind at all. Let’s talk about that. I’m guessin’ you’re interested in the specifics?”

“Yes. That would be nice. I’d like to know what qualifies me for such a trip. Is it really so hot in Hell, like they say?” The good doctor’s eyes are burning from sweat.

“No, not particularly. It’s not anything. It’s empty. Hollow is probably the best way to describe it.”

“That doesn’t sound so bad. I enjoy the quiet.”

“It’s not pleasant. You’ll have a hole inside you with nothing to fill it up with. Have you ever heard the story of the fox and the snipe?” The girl leans in, examining the doctor’s wound.

“Can’t say that I have. I’d like to hear it; maybe it’ll distract me from this pain.”

“Well, you should cling to that pain because there won’t be any where you’re headed. And you’ll long for it. To feel something, anything.”

Dr. Clancy winces at a wave of agony. “Well, until then, I don’t want it.”

The girl smiles at this. It’s a pleasant smile, and if she weren’t the Devil, he would like to think of her as his daughter. But his daughter was gone, moved to Oregon years ago.

“The fox, you see,” she said, “wasn’t an animal. It was a man who went by Fox Wright. He was small in stature, and his face was all pointy, like that of a fox. Hence the name. Well, old Fox Face was a man who loved to gamble, and well, one night, he put all of his money down in a poker game—one for the books—and cleaned up. Walked out of that poker game a rich man, then headed back to his den, and put all of his winnings underneath a floorboard.”

Dr. Clancy blacks out, and when he comes to, the girl is standing ten feet away, looking at the horizon.

“Sorry, must have dozed, but it wasn’t the story that made me do so.” He smiles and then coughs up blood. Every movement feels like boulders falling on his bones. She turns to face him, and her face looks longer; her eyes droop as if she has palsy.

“That’s okay,” says the girl. “Where was I? Oh, yes, he put his money beneath the floorboards. You heard that part, right?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Okay then. He hid it away. Then he went to bed. But it’s hard to sleep when you’re craving daylight, which he most certainly was. He was itching to get out and spend his money. What would you buy first? If you were rich, I mean.”

“Right this moment, or in general?”

The girl thinks for a moment, then replies, “Let’s say in general.”

“I’d build myself a big ranch with stables. I’d get a couple horses for Caroline to trot around with. Still have a little practice in town, but spend most of my time ridin’ and drinkin’.”

“You a drinker?” says the girl, moving closer to the doctor.

“I am. Is that why you’re here?”

“No. Drinking, sex, foul language, nobody cares about such things.”

“Then why?”

“Let me get back to my story. So Mr. Wright, Fox Face, finally falls asleep, and almost to the second of that happening, a man named Mortimer Snipe peers through the window. He’s a bad fella—real bad. This wouldn’t be the first time he’s killed. Anyway, he sneaks in, and right before he cuts ol’ Fox Face’s little fox throat, the sleeping fox opens his eyes. There they are, face to face, staring into each other’s large pupils—pupils craving light—black discs like two hungry eclipses. Do you know what they saw?”

“I’m guessing you’ll be telling me.”

“They saw me. They saw Him. They saw everything as clear as daylight. And the money, that didn’t matter. The money was beside the point, now.”

“So, did they become friends or something?”

“No. Mr. Snipe had his face blown clear off. Fox Face had been sleeping with his revolver in his hand. Men dragged through life by the throat are always ready to fight for what they’ve claimed. They ain’t in the habit of giving back what they’ve risked so much to get.”

“And what is the moral of this story?”

“The moral? Well, not exactly how I’d put it, but I ‘spose it would be this. It doesn’t matter what you have or what you want. The only thing worth anything is this.” She waved her arms around.

The doctor pauses to consider this, then his eyes narrow. “The moment when it could go either way?”

“Yes. The moment when it could go either way.” The girl with the golden ringlets shoos a fly away from the doctor’s head before continuing. “See, you’re either going to die soon, or someone will come by and save your life. And so it’s here, right now, that you’re the most alive. Isn’t that wonderful?”

“I appreciate the company. Is that a funny thing to tell the Devil?”

“You’re not alone. It’s a common thing. The end is scary—and lonely. Having someone with you is a comfort, even if they’re the Devil. I like you. I really do. But, well, I’ve made my own bet, sort of like Fox Face. And because of this, I need to collect my winnings as they roll in. Do you follow me?”

“But you never told me why? Why am I going to Hell?”

“Here’s the thing, you all are. Every last one of you. Because sin is pervasive, and belief is dependent.”

“What about Job? You lost that bet.”

“No. I didn’t lose that bet. If anything, that bet proved my point. People who are knocked down will pray with some measure of belief, sure, because they have not. But what would have happened if God were to have given Job more than what he already had? Maybe a beautiful woman? Or riches—now that would have been the real test. And He knows it. But see, this is why He is cruel. He lets you believe there is a way to change your nature, but there isn’t.”

“Maybe. Maybe you’re right. But it’s hard out here, in this world. And most people aren’t looking for riches. They’re just trying to not be miserable. They’re just looking for peace.”

The girl gives him a sympathetic smile, patting his forearm. She looks toward the town, then back to the good doctor. “I suppose you’re right. Part of me would love to end it all right now, but here’s the thing: it’s not up to me.”

If you’re looking for a happy ending, then maybe, well, the desert isn’t the place to eavesdrop on the Devil and a dying man. The sun baked the good doctor, the God-fearing man who loved his horse, and his blood continued to muddy the sand. The girl became a tall, malformed beast with wings as thin as a bee’s. Its teeth extended from its horse-like jaw, white pikes which dangled above Dr. Clancy’s throat.

Then, from the heat-rippled town of Calico, a whinny, and here comes old Caroline, three riders in tow.