King Blood (11 page)

Arlie had been leaving him with sympathy for hours. Ever since he had carried Critch up to his room, and brought him back into consciousness. And how understanding, how forgiving, he had been over Critch's earlier attempt to slug him!

_Now, don't you fret none, little brother. Mighta done the same thing myself. Fella loses a lot o' money, he just naturally strikes out at anything near him._

Critch reached down to the floor for the whiskey bottle; momentarily drowned out Arlie's voice in a long, gurgling drink. The drink emptied the bottle, and he pitched it into the wastebasket where also reposed his ruined coat.

'… awful lotta whiskey this afternoon.' _Arlie again, God damn him!_ 'Why'n't you let me get you somethin' to eat, Critch?'

'No,' Critch said curtly. 'I'll eat when I'm ready.'

'But… well, all right. Reckon I'd feel the same way, in your place.' Arlie shook his head sadly. 'I sure feel sorry for you, Critch. Sure wish there was somethin' I could do for you.'

'I wish there was something I could do for
you,'
Critch said.

'Y'know,' Arlie continued in a musing tone. 'Y'know what I figure, Critch? I figure that money musta been stolen off of you after we left the marshal's office. Otherwise, Marshal Harry woulda spotted them slits in your coat, and wanted to know what was what.'

'Well? What about it?'

'Well, o' course, we did pass a lot of people between his office an' that saloon. But it does narrow things down a little, don't it? I mean, known' about when you was robbed. So maybe if you was t'go to Marshal Harry an' report the theft…'

His voice trailed off into silence, his eyes sliding away from Critch's bitter gaze. 'Well, uh, maybe,' he resumed, after a moment's silence. 'Maybe that wouldn't be such a good idea after all. Might get yourself tied up in more questionin' than you could get free of in a year o' Sundays. Ol' Harry, he'd probably want to know just how you came by the money an' why a educated fella like you was carryin' it around in cash, an' exactly how much you had, right down t'the last nickle. An' uh – just how much did you have, little brother?'

Critch shot him a furious look; again almost maddened to the point of physical violence. Then, getting control of himself, he decided that Arlie quite likely
didn't
know the amount of the theft. He didn't, since it would have been highly impractical for him to have stolen the money himself. Instead, he had had that Indian youth steal it – I.K., or whatever his name was – arranging to meet with him later for a division of the money. (A division which would profit the Indian damned little.)

'Yeah, little brother? How much did you say you had?'

Critch hesitated, a vengeful idea coming into his mind. Suppose he told Arlie that the sum was much larger than it was. Arlie would naturally demand that the Indian produce that amount, and when he couldn't – well, all hell would pop, right? That Apache kid was obviously capable of a great deal of nastiness – as, needless to say, was Arlie. And if the two of them should get in a fight –

Huh-uh; Critch mentally shook his head to the notion. Revenge he could do without, at least for the present. His pre-eminent need was the money, and his best chance of getting it back was to have Arlie get it. A friendly Arlie – one who believed that little brother, Critch, was friendly toward him and entirely unsuspecting of his duplicity.

So, now, Critch raised somber eyes to his brother's face; heaved a huge sigh as Arlie prompted him yet a third time.

'Arlie,' he said. 'I'll tell you, but I want you to keep it in strict confidence. I can trust you to do that, can't I?'

'You know you can, boy,' Arlie declared warmly. 'Just you ask, an' that's the way it'll be.'

'I'd rather you didn't even tell Paw. He'd probably get all upset, like old people do sometimes, so why worry him about it?'

'Why, sure, sure. No point to it at all. So, how much…?'

'Seventy-two thousand dollars.'

'Seventy-two thousand dollars,' Arlie nodded. 'Well, now – '

He broke off with a gasp, lurched out of his tilted-back chair. He stared at Critch, mouth working wordlessly. Shakily pointing a finger at him as he tried to find his voice.

'Y-you said… You said – Naw! No, by God!'

'Yes, Arlie. Yes.'

'Holy howling owls! Where did you get – ' He broke off, again; stared at Critch in open admiration. 'Critch, boy, I got to hand it to you! Gettin' yourself a whole seventy-two thousand dollars and without gettin' yourself wanted. That's right, ain't it?' he added, a trifle anxiously. 'You ain't wanted? Ain't no one comin' after you for that money?'

Critch shook his head. 'No one,' he said. 'I'm in the clear.'

'No one at all?' Arlie insisted. 'You're sure of it?'

'Positive. I wish I was even a tenth as sure of getting the money back.'

Arlie mumbled commiseratingly. He said that maybe he ought to be sort of looking around for the lousy, lowdown thief. Might just get lucky and run into him.

'Meantime,' he said, putting on his hat. 'Don't you worry none about havin' a stake to go home on. I'll see t'that, and you can count on it!'

'Yes?'

'You know. You know how danged funny Paw is. Show up there without a nice little stake, two-three thousand dollars, anyways, he'd figure you was a bum. So, by gollies, I'll get you the money, little brother! I know my way around this town, an' I got plenty of friends here. So I'll get it, one way or another.'

Critch murmured his thanks; said he would never forget the favor. His situation suddenly looked brighter to him. Several thousand dollars spent in the right places would practically guarantee his recovering the money. It would take time, of course. He would have to do some traveling, make certain arrangements with certain people; so, naturally, he could not return to the Junction with Arlie. But that was all right. He'd leave a note for the latter, regretfully explaining that he had doubted his ability to adjust to ranch life after so long an absence, and was thus going his own way, gladly forfeiting any claims to an inheritance in favor of his beloved brother. Old Ike would be disappointed, and Arlie might be suspicious for a time. But –

'… be on my way, Critch, boy,' Arlie was saying, as he started toward the door. 'Now, how about somethin' t' eat, huh? Want me to send you up some supper from the dinin' room?'

'Fine, fine!' Critch smiled. 'Have to get myself straightened out if I'm seeing Paw tomorrow.'

'No ifs about it,' Arlie declared. 'Said I'd get you a nice stake t'go home on, an' I'm gonna do it. So you just eat an' get yourself a good night's sleep, an' I'll see you in the morning.'

'Morning?'
Critch said. 'B-but – but – '

'Yeah?' Arlie looked at him curiously. 'What's the matter, little brother? No need t'be botherin' you before morning, is there?'

'No
need
to! But – but what about the money you were getting for me?'

'What about it? You got plenty for anything you need tonight. Soon as we're on the train in the mornin' I'll give you the other; enough to put you on the good side of Paw.'

'B-but – '

'But what? You sure wouldn't want a lot of money on you overnight, would you?' Arlie frowned. 'That wouldn't make no sense at all, it seems to me. You get yourself robbed again after me gettin' you up a new stake, you'd really be out of luck.'

Critch stared at him helplessly, trying to frame some plausible protest; some reasonable objection to his brother's reasoning. There was, of course, none to find. He had been out-thought just as he been outfought. And fraud having failed him, he had nothing to lose by frankness.

'Arlie,' he said quietly, 'why do you want me to come back to the Junction?'

'Why?' Arlie said. 'Well, now, why wouldn't I want you to? After all, we're brothers – '

'We're also Kings.
King
brothers, Arlie.'

'Well,' Arlie hesitated. 'I reckon we are a little different from other folks. But – '

'We're different all right. It was bred into us. Paw was more savage than civilized. Between him and Tepaha we were raised to believe that it was all right to do almost anything as long as you got away with it. As for our mother… well, she wound up selling her ass to all comers. Selling it or giving it away; she really didn't seem to care which.'

Arlie let out a guffaw. 'No kiddin'? Well, she was built for it, as I recall. All ass and no brains? Why, I remember one time when – uh – Well, never mind,' he concluded uncomfortably. 'Reckon it ain't really right t'be dirty-talkin' our own Maw.'

'But it's appropriate for a King. Right and wrong don't enter into the picture. So I'll ask you again, Arlie. Why do you want me at the Junction?'

Arlie said he just did, that was why. What was so God damned strange about wanting your own brother with you?

'Maybe we got kind of twisted as kids. Maybe we done plenty of wrong things in our lives. But we can change, can't we? Nothin' that says we got to keep on goin' the way we started out.'

'Forget it,' Critch said. 'Forget that I asked you.'

'But – well, dammit, I need you, boy! The ranch is just too big a job to handle by myself.'

'And I'll be a great help, won't I?' Critch shook his head cynically. 'A city dude – a man who hasn't even sat on a horse in years. Any twenty-a-month cowhand would be ten times as helpful as I would.'

'But he wouldn't be a King! Just wouldn't be fittin' to have no one else but a King runnin' things.'

'Whatever you say, Arlie,' Critch shrugged. 'Whatever you say.'

He yawned elaborately, stretched out on the bed with his hands under his head. He closed his eyes, with a murmur of apology; opening them for a moment with apparent surprise at finding Arlie still present.

'Something else?' he said.

'You're God damned right there's something else! I tell a fella somethin', I don't want him callin' me a liar!'

'Oh, I don't blame you,' Critch said earnestly. 'I've never liked it either. Of course, there is a way of avoiding it…'

He allowed his voice to trail off into silence, giving his brother a look of preternatural solemnity. Arlie scowled furiously, started to say something, then turned to the door and yanked it open. On the point of slamming it, he turned again and faced his brother. Grinning good-naturedly; his expression more or less back to normal.

'All right, little brother. All right. I just might have another reason for wantin' you back at the Junction.'

'You just might,' Critch agreed.

"Course, I ain't sayin' that that
is
the reason. But it might be I'd feel a lot safer that way. Might figure it'd be a lot easier to look out for you, if I knew exactly where to look out.'

'There's another side to that coin, of course.'

'Meanin', the more distance there was between us the safer I'd be?' Arlie shook his head, grinning. 'Huh-uh, little brother. Huh-uh. Because I know something about you that you don't even know yourself.'

'Such as?'

'Such as somethin' you can't do. Oh, you think you can. Prob'ly thought about doin' it plenty of times. Prob'ly even
planned
t'do it. But it's God danged lucky you never tried, because you couldn't no more do it than you could rub your ass an' your elbow at the same time. An' the reason I know you can't do it is because I
can
an' I know what it takes. An' you ain't got what it takes, little brother. You just ain't got it.'

'I ain't got what it takes,' said Critch, 'to do what?'

'To kill. You could maybe hire it done. I figure you maybe
might
hire it done if you was in the proper fix t'do it. So… 'Arlie's drawl faded off into the silence, his grin dying with it. And once again he became the concerned big brother, the doer of good deeds. 'So,' he resumed slowly. 'So I reckon it's a plumb fine idea for you to come back to the Junction with me, Critch. Don't you? Don't you reckon it's just about the finest idea a fella ever had?'

Critch nodded dully. 'Plumb fine,' he said.

_'I steal good, yes?' I.K. beamed modestly. 'Do plenty all right for my ol' frien', Arlie?'_

_'Uh-hah, plenty,' Arlie drawled. 'Kinda puzzlin', though. I coulda sworn that Critch had maybe a dozen packets of dough stashed in that coat of his instead of just one.'_

_'Did have,' I.K. nodded promptly. 'I get bank to cash into t'ousand-dollar bills. Make easier to carry, you know.'_

_Arlie said that that had been real smart of him. And kinda dumb of the bank, when you come to think of it. 'They didn't ask you no questions, huh? Didn't want to know how come a God damned greasy-assed Injun kid like you got himself so much money?'_

_I.K. made a sudden dive for the door. Arlie caught him, and twisted an arm behind his back. Not until the Apache youth was on the verge of having his shoulder dislocated, did he at last gasp out a confession. 'Up there! Behin' chimney hole!'_

_Arlie pried loose the flowered-tin cover of the chimney outlet, and scooped the money out onto the bed. Counting it methodically he discovered the amount to be a hundred dollars short of seventy-two thousand. I.K. sulkily explained the shortage. 'Cash bill with dirty 'ief bartender. Give me thirty dollars for hundred.'_

'Thirty dollars, huh?' Arlie said, taking out his wallet. 'Well, here's thirty more for you. You be real careful with your spendin', an' you can live on it for quite a while.'

_I.K. cursed him vilely. 'God damn you, ol' Arlie! You promise me half!'_

Arlie said, well, that made them both pretty sneaky, didn't it? Anyway, he continued, it would do the youth no good if he was given all the money. It would go into the pockets of smarter thieves, and he would go into jail in less than a week.

I.K. cursed him at length. He pleaded. Abruptly, he attempted an attack. The cursing and begging accomplished nothing, of course. Anticipating the attack, Arlie fended it off with a suddenly outthrust boot, the spur of which ripped the Apache's pantsleg from top to bottom.

Arlie whooped with laughter at sight of the ruined trousers. I.K. continued to scowl and curse for a time, then joined in the laughter. Arlie took a pint bottle from his hip pocket, and they drank together. Friends, to all appearances.

_To all appearances_…

_For it was not the Apache way – it was not I.K.'s way – to betray one's intentions with a display of enmity._