第15章

“He is not my friend.”

Farrell Permalee made a whooping noise like that of his brother and said, “There they be!”

I looked over to the northwest and saw two riders approaching the top of the ridge. Little Blackie, riderless, was tied behind them. Lucky Ned Pepper brought his glass into play but I could see them well enough without such aid. When they reached the crest they paused and turned our way and Rooster fired a pistol in the air. I saw the smoke before the noise reached us. Lucky Ned Pepper pulled his revolver and fired an answering shot. Then Rooster and LaBoeuf disappeared over the hill. The last thing I saw was Little Blackie.

I think it did not come home to me until that moment what my situation was. I had not thought Rooster or LaBoeuf would give in to the bandits so easily. It was in my mind that they would slip up through the brush and attack the bandits while they were disorganized, or employ some clever ruse known only by detectives to bring the bandits to heel. Now they were gone! The officers had left me! I was utterly cast down and for the first time I feared for my life. My mind was filled with anxiety.

Who was to blame? Deputy Marshal Rooster Cogburn! The gabbing drunken fool had made a mistake of four miles and led us directly into the robbers’ lair. A keen detective! Yes, and in an earlier state of drunkenness he had placed faulty caps in my revolver, causing it to fail me in a time of need. That was not enough; now he had abandoned me in this howling wilderness to a gang of cutthroats who cared not a rap for the blood of their own companions, and how much less for that of a helpless and unwanted youngster! Was this what they called grit in Fort Smith? We called it something else in Yell County!

Lucky Ned Pepper shouted out for The Original Greaser and Harold Permalee to leave their watch post and come to the camp. The four horses were saddled and in readiness. Lucky Ned Pepper looked over the mounts, then at the spare saddle that lay on the ground. It was an old saddle but a handsome one, decorated with fixtures of beaten silver.

He said, “That is Bob’s saddle.”

Tom Chaney said, “It was Bob’s horse we lost.”

“That you lost,” said the bandit chieftain. “Unsaddle that gray and put Bob’s saddle up.”

“I am riding the gray,” said Chaney.

“I have other plans for you.”

Chaney set about unsaddling the gray horse. He said, “I will be riding behind Bob?”

“No, it will be too chancy with two men up if it comes to a race. When we reach Ma’s house I will send Carroll back to fetch you with a fresh mount. I want you to wait here with the girl. You will be out by dark. We are going to ‘The Old Place’ and you can meet us there.”

“Well, I don’t like that,” said Chaney. “Let me ride with you, Ned, just out of here anyway.”

“No.”

“Them marshals will be up here.”

“They will guess we are all gone.”

I said, “I am not staying here by myself with Tom Chaney.”

Lucky Ned Pepper said, “That is the way I will have it.”

“He will kill me,” said I. “You have heard him say it. He has killed my father and now you will let him kill me.”

“He will do no such thing,” said the bandit chieftain.

“Tom, do you know the crossing at Cypress Forks, near the log meetinghouse?”

“I know the place.”

“You will take the girl there and leave her.” Then to me, “You can stay the night in the meetinghouse. There is a dummy called Flanagan lives about two miles up the creek. He has a mule and he will see you to McAlester’s. He cannot speak or hear but he can read. Can you write?”

“Yes,” said I. “Let me go now on foot. I will find my way out.”

“No, I won’t have it. Tom will not harm you. Do you understand that, Tom? If any harm comes to this child you do not get paid.”

Chaney said, “Farrell, let me ride up with you.” Farrell Permalee laughed and made noises like an owl, saying, “Hoo, hoo, hoo.” Harold Permalee and The Original Greaser Bob came up and Chaney commenced to plead with them to share their mounts. Greaser Bob said no. The Permalee brothers now teamed together like silly boys, and would give Chaney no sensible answer. Harold Permalee would interrupt Chaney’s question each time with mockery, making animal sounds such as are made by pigs and goats and sheep, and Farrell would laugh at the sport and say, “Do it again, Harold. Do a goat.”

Chaney said, “Everything is against me.”

Lucky Ned Pepper made sure the buckles were fastened good on his saddle wallets.

Greaser Bob said, “Ned, let us cut up the winnings now.”

“There will be time for that at ‘The Old Place,’ ” replied the bandit chieftain.

“We have been in two scraps already,” said The Greaser. “We have lost two men. I would feel easier if I was carrying my own winnings.”

Lucky Ned Pepper said, “Well, Bob, I thought your interest was in saving time.”

“It will not take long. I will feel easier.”

“Very well then. It suits me. I want you to feel easy.”

He reached inside one of the saddle wallets and pulled out four packets of greenbacks and pitched them to Greaser Bob. “How is that?”

Greaser Bob said, “You will not count it?”

“We won’t quarrel over a dollar or two.” Then he gave one packet to Harold Permalee and a single $50 note to Farrell Permalee. The brothers said, “Whooooo-haaaaa! Whooooo-haaaaa!” I wondered that they did not press for more, in light of the total amount realized in the robbery, but I supposed they had agreed to a fixed wage for their services. I judged too that they were somewhat ignorant of the value of money.

Lucky Ned Pepper went to buckle up the wallet again. He said, “I will keep your winnings with mine, Tom. You will be paid tonight at ‘The Old Place.’”

Chaney said, “Nothing is going right for me.”

Greaser Bob said, “What about the registered pouch?”

“Well, and what about it?” said Lucky Ned Pepper. “Are you expecting a letter, Bob?”

“If there is any money in it we may as well have it now. It makes no sense to carry the pouch about for evidence.”

“You still don’t feel easy?”

“You are making too much of my words, Ned.”

Lucky Ned Pepper thought about it. He said, “Well, maybe so.” Once more he unbuckled the straps. He took out a locked canvas bag and cut it open with a Barlow knife and dumped the contents on the ground. He grinned and said, “Christmas gift!” Of course that is what children shout to one another early on Christmas morning, the game being to shout it first. I had not thought before of this disfigured robber having had a childhood. I expect he was mean to cats and made rude noises in church when he was not asleep. When he needed a firm restraining hand, it was not there. An old story!

There were only six or seven pieces of mail in the bag. There were some personal letters, one with twenty dollars in it, and some documents that appeared to be of a legal description, such as contracts. Lucky Ned Pepper glanced at them and flung them away. A bulky gray envelope tied with ribbon held a packet of one-hundred twenty-dollar notes on the Whelper Commercial Bank of Denison, Texas. Another envelope held a check.

Lucky Ned Pepper studied it, then said to me, “Do you read well?”

“I read very well,” said I.

He passed over the check. “Is this any good to me?”

It was a cashier’s check for $2,750 drawn on the Grangers Trust Co. of Topeka, Kansas, to a man named Marshall Purvis. I said, “This is a cashier’s check for $2,750 drawn on the Grangers Trust Co. of Topeka, Kansas, to a man named Marshall Purvis.”

“I can see what it is worth,” said the bandit. “Is it any good?”

“It is good if the bank is good,” said I. “But it must be endorsed by this Purvis. The bank guarantees the check account is good.”

“What about these notes?”

I looked over the banknotes. They were brand-new. I said, “They are not signed. They are no good unless they are signed.”

“Can you not sign them?”

“They must be signed by Mr. Whelper, the president of the bank.”

“Is it such a hard name to spell?”

“It is an unusual name but it is not hard to spell. The name is printed right here. That is his signature, the printed signature of Monroe G. B. Whelper, the president of the Whelper Commercial Bank of Denison, Texas. That signature must be matched over here.”

“I want you to sign them. And this check too.”

Naturally I did not wish to use my education in this robber’s service and I hesitated.

He said, “I will box your ears until your head rings.”

I said, “I have nothing to write with.”

He drew a cartridge from his belt and opened his Barlow knife again. “This will answer. I will shave the lead down.”

“They must be signed in ink.”

Greaser Bob said, “We can attend to it later, Ned. This matter will keep.”

“We will attend to it now,” replied the bandit chieftain. “You are the one who wanted to look at the mail. This paper is worth over four thousand dollars with a little writing. The girl can write. Harold, go to the trash pile and fetch me a good stout turkey feather, a dry one, a big tail feather.” Then he pulled the bullet out of the cartridge case with his snag teeth and poured the black powder in the palm of his hand. He spit on it through the gap and stirred the glutinous mess about with a finger.

Harold Permalee brought back a handful of feathers and Lucky Ned Pepper chose one and cut the tip off with his knife and reamed out the hole a little. He dipped the quill into the “ink” and printed NED on his wrist in childish characters. He said, “There. You see. That is my name. Is it not?”

I said, “Yes, that is Ned.”

He handed me the feather. “Now go to it.”

A flat rock with one of the contracts laid on it was made to serve for a desk. It is not in me to do poor work where writing is concerned and I toiled earnestly at making faithful copies of Mr. Whelper’s signature. However, the makeshift pen and ink were not satisfactory. The writing jumped and spread wide and pinched thin. It looked as though it had been done with a stick. My thought was: Who will believe that Mr. Whelper signs his banknotes with a stick?

But the unlettered bandit chieftain knew little of the world of banking except for such glimpses as he got over a gun sight, and he was pleased with the work. I signed and signed, using his palm for an inkwell. It was very tiring. As soon as I had finished one note he would snatch it up and pass me another.

He said, “They are as good as gold, Bob. I will trade them at Colbert’s.”

Greaser Bob said, “Nothing on paper is as good as gold. That is my belief.”

“Well, that is how much a damned Mexican knows.”

“It is every man to his own principles. Tell her to hurry along.”

When the criminal task was completed Lucky Ned Pepper put the notes and the check in the gray envelope and secured it in his saddle wallet. He said, “Tom, we will see you tonight. Make yourself agreeable to this child. Little Carroll will be here before you know it.”

Then they departed the place, not riding their horses but leading them, as the hill was so steep and brushy.

I was alone with Tom Chaney!

He sat across the fire from me, my pistol in his waistband and the Henry rifle in his lap. His face was a “brown study.” I stirred up the fire a little and arranged some glowing coals around one of the cans of hot water.

Chaney watched me. He said, “What are you doing?”

I said, “I am heating some water so that I may wash this black off my hands.”

“A little smut will not harm you.”

“Yes, that is true, or else you and your ‘chums’ would surely be dead. I know it will not harm me but I would rather have it off.”

“Don’t provoke me. You will find yourself in that pit.”

“Lucky Ned Pepper has warned you that if you molest me in any way he will not pay you. He means business too.”

“I fear he has no idea of paying me. I believe he has left me, knowing I am sure to be caught when I leave on foot.”

“He promised he would meet you at ‘The Old Place.’ ”

“Keep still. I must now think over my position and how I may improve it.”

“What about my position? At least you have not been abandoned by a man who was paid and pledged to protect you.”

“You little busybody! What does your kind know of hardship and affliction? Now keep still while I think.”

“Are you thinking about ‘The Old Place?’ ”

No, I am not thinking about ‘The Old Place.’ Carroll Permalee or nobody else is coming up here with any horse. They are not going to ‘The Old Place.’ I am not so easily fooled as some people might think.”

I thought to ask him about the other gold piece, then checked myself, afraid that he might force me to give over the one I had recovered. I said, “What have you done with Papa’s mare?”

He gave no answer.

I said, “If you will let me go now I will keep silent as to your whereabouts for two days.”

“I tell you I can do better than that,” said he. “I can have your silence forever. I will not tell you again to hold your tongue.”

The water was not boiling but it had begun to steam a little and I picked up the can with a rag and flung it at him, then took to my feet in frantic flight. Though caught by surprise, he managed to shield his face with his arms. He yelped and gave immediate pursuit. My desperate plan was to reach the trees. Once there, I thought to evade him and finally lose him by darting this way and that in the brush.