King Blood (13 page)

In the flickering light of the kerosene lamp, he studied himself in the dresser mirror; felt a kind of abashed pride at the change in his appearance. The normal olive pallor of his face had given way to heavy tan. He had gained weight; even his shoulders appeared to have broadened. His clothes, garments virtually identical with those worn by Tepaha, Arlie and Ike, now fitted him snugly whereas they had originally seemed to hang on him.

He glanced down at his hands, grinned sourly at their appearance. They were calloused, stiff, the nails torn and stubby. But, never mind. Money and time would take care of such trifles. He would have the first and hence the last as soon as he had evened the score with Arlie. For the time being, he must move slowly. Giving Arlie time to become unwary and let his guard down; working to ingratiate himself even further with Old Ike; getting into the good graces of everyone who might later prove useful to him.

All he had to do was what he had been doing. Work – and wait for opportunity to reveal itself. And for seventy-two thousand dollars he was prepared to work and wait indefinitely.

Critch finished dressing, putting the final touch to his costume by tucking a knife into his boot-top. The knife was expected of him, and he was doing what was expected. Also, he had been practising with it at night. Shadow-fighting before the mirror until he was too exhausted to make another feint.

It could come in very handy some day. He just might give Brother Arlie the surprise of a lifetime.

Taking a final look at himself, Critch lounged near the door, waiting for the sound of the others emerging from their rooms. Meanwhile, speculating on just where Arlie had hidden the money.

He was confident that Arlie had not left it in El Reno, but had brought it back to the ranch with him. For once, on the return trip to the Junction, Arlie had left him alone in their stateroom for a few moments, and Critch had seized the opportunity to search his brother's carpetbag. And buried at the bottom of it, beneath several articles of clothing, was a heavy steel box.

It was a brand-new box, with the El Reno merchant's price tag still on it. Shaking it, Critch had heard a telltale rustling, a softish series of thuds from within. He was debating what to do – whether to take the box and risk leaping from the window – when he heard Arlie at the door. So he had hastily jammed the receptacle back where he had gotten it, and reclosed the carpetbag. And that had been his last chance to recover the money.

For the rest of their ride, Arlie had ridden with his feet on the bag, or taken it with him whenever he left the stateroom.

Now, Critch heard familiar sounds in the hallway, and he stepped out into it. He said good-morning to Arlie, nodded at Kay and gave a warm smile to Joshie. Then, the four of them started down the stairs, Arlie and Critch in front, Kay walking behind her husband and Joshie behind Critch.

They were nearing the foot of the staircase when there was a scurrying scuffle, an angrily sibilant whispering from the two girls. Arlie whirled around, gave each a long slow look. But their round dolls' faces with the preternaturally widened eyes were prim masks of innocence. So the descent continued, and the foursome continued on into the bar where Tepaha and Ike awaited them.

Drinks were poured for the men, Critch's from a special bottle which Arlie stared at meaningfully. They toasted each other silently, tossed down the liquor at a gulp; thudded their glasses back to the table. Old Ike hoisted himself up from his chair, turned to lead the way into the dining room. And Kay suddenly let out a yell.

'Ouch!
God damn, plenty ouch, by God!'

Simultaneously, she began to hop about on one moccasined foot, clutching the other in her hands.

Tepaha leaped forward. Grabbing her shoulders, he gave her a vigorous shake; demanded the reason for her outrageous breach of decorum.

'Speak, witless girl! Stop dancing like crazy chicken and explain, or I slap you loose from pants!'

Kay gingerly lowered her foot to the floor, looked murderously at her sister.

'Ol' Joshie stamp on my foot, Grandfather. Hurt like hell.'

'So!' said Tepaha, turning ominously to Joshie. 'Did you stamp on your sister's foot? _Did you?'_

Joshie nodded nervously, sullenly, adding that Kay had invited the attack.

'Ol' Kay say mean things, Grandfather Tepaha. I try to make her stop, but she keep on.'

'That is no excuse,' Tepaha declared sternly. 'One wrong does not right another.' He hesitated, one hand drawn back. 'What were these mean things?'

'Well – ' Joshie fidgeted, her eyes downcast. 'She say – she say – '

'Speak quickly, foolish child!'

'S-she say… she – ' Joshie's voice suddenly strengthened, blurting out the words. 'She say I want ol' Critch to fock my possy! She say my possy no good, so he no fock me!'

Tepaha blinked, let out a stunned grunt. He looked at Ike, a look that silently appealed for help. But his old friend had averted his eyes, and was convulsed by a spasm of coughing.

Helplessly, Tepaha shifted his gaze back to Joshie. 'Such words are spoken only between man and woman,' he said. 'Privately. You will have to be punished.'

His arm arced for a slap. Critch spoke up quickly.

'Pardon me, Grandfather, but Kay spoke the words first. Joshie only repeated them at your request.'

'Well – ' Tepaha hesitated; nodded. 'You speak truth, Critch. Stand forward, Kay.'

'Now, just a God damn minute!' Arlie snapped. 'What about Joshie stomping on Kay's foot? What about that, huh? And' – glaring at Critch. 'Just where the hell you get off buttin' into this? You got nothin' to say about Kay or Joshie neither! She ain't your squaw.'

'Now, Arlie,' Critch said mildly. 'After all, fair is fair – '

'Fair is shit! If Kay gets slapped, then by God Joshie gets it! It's both of 'em or neither!'

Tepaha's face hardened. Arlie put a protective arm around Kay, and Joshie moved closer to Critch. Silence fell over the room as one stubborn glare locked with another. Then, old Ike found his voice, declared firmly that the matter was to be dropped.

'Not another God damn word out o' no one, or by God I'll do a hell of a lot more than slap! Now, they's work to be done an' breakfast t'be et before, so let's get at it.'

He led the way into the dining room.

Tepaha stalked behind him, after a stern glare at the four young people.

Arlie followed, followed by his wife. Critch, trailed by Joshie, entered last. As, of course, was proper for the youngest son.

The meal was a huge one, consisting mainly of meat: steak, pork chops and ribs, slices of venison roast. Along with the meat, there were eggs, cracked-corn porridge, stewed dried fruit, biscuits, cornbread and buckwheat cakes. There was milk also – canned milk. As on many ranches, even today, all effort was concentrated on the production of beef. A cow's milk went to suckle her calf, without a drop's diversion to human beings.

The meal was cooked, and also served, by squaws; kinswomen, by blood or marriage, to the workmen in the Junction's several business establishments: the blacksmith shop, the feed and grain store, and the general store.

There was virtually no talk at the table, everyone emulating Ike and Tepaha in disposing of as much food as possible in the time allotted for breakfast. Critch had failed to do this, in the beginning; fastidiously picking at his food, and feeling a little ill at the gorging of the others. The result was that he had almost collapsed from weakness in midmorning. And by the time the sun was directly overhead, signalling the lunch hour, he had toppled rather than climbed down from his saddle.

At last, Old Ike glanced at his turnip-like watch, belched heavily, and shoved back his plate. Tepaha also belched and leaned back from the table. In short, the meal was over.

Ike caught Arlie's eye, and nodded to him. 'You an' Kay go saddle up. You're gettin' a late start this mornin'.'

'Me an' Kay again, huh?' Arlie scowled. 'How come it ain't never Critch and Joshie.'

Ike ignored him, turning to Joshie. 'Go bring Critch's bottle, an' some of his seegars. We got talk to make.'

Joshie said, 'Yes, Old Uncle,' and scurried away, giving her sister a triumphant sneer. Still ignoring Arlie, Ike spoke to Critch: How did Critch feel about ranch work by now? Was everyone treatin' him all right? Was there anything he needed? Critch murmured appropriate replies, nervously aware of his brother's displeasure. Arlie flung back his chair suddenly. He stamped out of the room, moving so fast that Kay was forced to run to keep up with him.

'So everything's goin' all right?' Ike asked, as Joshie poured after-breakfast drinks. 'Any questions about the work or anythin'?'

'None so far,' Critch smiled. 'None, that is, that Arlie hasn't been able to answer.'

'They's maybe plenty Arlie can learn from you. You figure he needs to know somethin', you speak up.'

Critch nodded, without the slightest intention of carrying out his father's order. Arlie's hurt pride and huffiness must not be turned into anger. Moreover, he could hardly suggest improvements in a routine which, while arduous, was the essence of simplicity.

The day's work consisted of merely visiting the holdings of one Apache tenant after another. At each place, Arlie and Critch consulted with the head of the family, inquiring into his progress, taking note of his needs and offering such advice as seemed indicated. Meanwhile, Joshie and Kay performed much the same chore for the household's womenfolk.

'Lessee, now,' Old Ike rumbled. 'The four of you is still ridin' together, right? Maybe you ought to be splittin' up into twos, so's you could cover more ground.'

'Well…' Critch hesitated. 'If you think I'm ready…'

Ike said it wasn't what
he
thought, but what Critch thought that mattered. 'Make up your own mind,' he added, hoisting his heavy body from his chair. 'Now, you better be skedaddlin' out o' here.' *d*

Old Ike and Old Tepaha retired to the bar room for a time, each napping briefly, head on chest, though both would have denied it. They awakened simultaneously, and went for a highly critical tour of the Junction's commercial facilities. It was nearing train time by then, so they walked down to the depot. The agent-telegrapher, a half-breed who lived primitively on the premises, treated them to coffee and amiable insults. In the distance, the train hooted its approach and they went outside to greet it.

It came and went, leaving not an iota of mail. Not a single dun or notice of creditor's judgement. It had been so for many days now, more days than Old Ike's memory – a memory that was responsive only to things in the distant past rather than the immediate – could accurately recall.

With relief and puzzlement, he pondered the riddle aloud.

Tepaha declared that the answer was simple. 'All bad men. Bad men make bad enemies. Maybe so all get killed, I betcha.'

'All 't once? That don't make sense.'

'Huh! What makes sense, then, you so God damn smart?'

'Well… I reckon they just figured I was an A-1 honest fella that wasn't out to beat no one for his money – like they'd've knowed in the first place if they had any God damn sense – so they ups and decides t'stop pesterin' me.'

'Ho! You one crazy shit, ol' Ike.'

'What's crazy about it, you dried up ol' son-of-a-bitch?'

'Huh! I say maybe all get killed, all 't once, you say don't make sense. You say all get nice-nice all 't once, I say you don't make no sense. Same God damn thing, by God, only I smarter'n you. Enemies like fleas on dead dog. No nice-nice never. Bite him till he dies.'

Arguing crotchetily, the two old men walked back toward the hotel. And at last Ike yawned, losing interest in the discussion. Ending it with the statement that he was content with the fact that his creditors were leaving him alone, and he didn't care a cow turd why they were doing it.

'Now' – he suppressed another yawn, turning into the hotel's bar, 'we'll just have ourselves a little drink, an' then I'm goin' up to my room. Got some plannin' I got to do.'

'I also have plans to make,' Tepaha declared with great dignity, 'and must do so in my room.'

They drank.

They went up the stairs together. Each leaning slightly against the other, each supporting the other with his body.

At the head of the stairs, they stood panting for a time. Then, as they trudged slowly down the hall toward their rooms and beds, Tepaha addressed his friend. Speaking in Spanish as do all wise men when treating of delicate and painful matters.

'Great evil may derive from one pure in heart. He is blind to the mottled snake in the corn rows.'

'And kindness can be as a dagger,' Ike nodded. 'Tell me thou, what is in thy heart?'

'So. Then I tell you that you are creating bad blood between your sons. In clutching Critch too closely to your bosom, you are thrusting Arlie aside.'

'This… this I know.' Old Ike bowed his head. 'It is something I cannot help.'

'Cannot? Cannot becomes unbelievable on the lips of Old Ike King.' Tepaha hesitated. 'Is it because of her? You see her image in Critch?'

'Perhaps. But I see much more than that. I see a small boy thrust away from me when I should have held him closely to my heart. The time I have to spend with him does not equal the years that I spent without him.'