“I could do that,” I said.
Arliss smiled at me. “Sure you could, Rube,” he said. “Be a fool not to.”
Verlon Clarke was workin’ on the forge when we got there, an’ Harmony was pumpin’ the bellows for him. She had a dirty face an’ some hair stuck in sweat on her forehead. I kindly liked the look of it. It come to me that if Miss Margie had sweat an’ dirt on her face, she’d a run rather than let me see her that way.
“Hello, boys,” Verlon said. “What are the two of you up to today?”
“I come by to give you some money for boardin’ my mules,” Arliss said, “and to see if you have any ridin’ stock for sale.”
“I got one mare I could let go,” Verlon said. “She’s twelve or so, ain’t no spring chicken. Big gal, sixteen hands. Stout, too. She’s black with a offside rear white foot. Got a nice way about her, good natured as long as you leave her tail alone, well broke and willin’. She’s in the west pasture if you wanna take a peek at her.”
“I do,” Arliss said, an’ the two a them wandered off.
Miss Harmony wiped her face on her sleeve an’ looked at me. “I put some sweet tea in the springhouse last night, Ruben,” she said. “Would you care for a cool drink?”
“I would, Miss Harmony,” I said. “Thank you.”
“You go sit up on the porch,” she said. “I’ll be up there in a minute.”
It was some more than a minute, but purty soon she come out the front door, handed me a short glass of tea, an’ set at the other end of the swing. I took a sip.
“That’s real good, Miss Harmony,” I said. “I appreciate it.”
It was some cooler up on the porch than down in the forge, an’ a couple a big ol’ oak trees shaded the front of the house good. The wind was up a little an’ it was right nice settin’ there.
“I noticed you working at that shed behind Mister Hyatt’s place yesterday,” Miss Harmony said.
“Arliss told me I could have the place to live in if I cared to fix it up. I’m doin’ the inside in cedar. I got some windas for it the other day that got stained glass trim along the tops.”
“That sounds nice,” she said.
“A course it ain’t very big an’ just one room an’ all. Ain’t gonna be like no real house, but it’ll be plenty good for me when I’m done with it.”
“It will be like part of a real house, won’t it?” she said.
I studied on that for a minute. “Why, yes it will, I guess,” I said.
She smiled at me then. “Ruben,” she said, “if you decided to walk from here to the ocean, what would you do?”
“Well, I doan rightly know,” I said, “I’d have to git me some supplies an’ such, I reckon.”
“You’re not thinking about it in the right way,” she said. “Right this minute, you are going to start that journey. What do you do?”
“Commence to walkin’, I guess,” I said.
“And how do you do that?” she asked me.
“Well, ya just walk, Miss Harmony,” I said. “Put one foot in front of the other an’ step off.”
“That’s right,” she said. “How many steps can you take at a time?”
“Well, that’s kindly foolish,” I said. “A fella can only take one step at a time.”
“Right again,” she said, smilin’ at me some more. “Just one step at a time.”
I thought on what she said, an’ then it kindly come on me what she meant. I shook my head an’ grinned at her. “I see,” I said.
“More than you think you do, Ruben,” she said. “They’ll bring the mare up in a minute. Why don’t you and I take some steps down to the barn.”
Arliss bought that mare. She was some bigger than Willie, an’ wide across the withers. He figured his saddle wouldn’t fit her too good. Verlon had a saddle that come with her, an’ he an’ Alriss did a even-Steven trade. She was a likely mare, set up good, not too long in the back like some big horses git. She held her weight good an’ seemed sound of legs an’ feet. That evenin’ he an’ me et a late supper at the Sweetwater, watched Miss Margie show off, an’ headed out to find Marshal Daniels.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
On the ride out Arliss, like he done from time to time, got a little mouthy.
“You an’ Miss Harmony have a nice visit up at the house, did ya?” he said to me.
“We jawed some drinkin’ sweet tea from the springhouse,” I said.
“Uh-huh,” Arliss grunted. “Pretty nice gal, doncha think?”
“She’s all right enough,” I said.
“Feels a little bit more, uh, substantial than Miss Margie, would you say?”
“She’s a nice girl,” I said.
“You and her git along fair, don’t ya?”
“Dammit, Arliss,” I said to him, “quit pickin’ at me.”
“I ain’t ‘zactly pickin’ at ya, boy, as much as I’m concerned about ya.”
“Why don’t you concern yerself about keepin’ a seat on that new horse,” I said. “Tall as that mare is, if you fall off, you could hurt yourself.”
He shut up for a little bit, but only a little bit.
“That Harmony gal,” he said in a minute, “seems right settled for a woman a her age. How old is she, ya think?”
Lord. That ol’ man just wouldn’t let nothin’ go. “I don’t know how old she is, Arliss,” I said. “How the hell would I?”
“You could ask her,” he said.
“Oh, hell,” I said. “Arliss, I ain’t gonna ask her how old she is. It ain’t none a my business.”
“Could be,” he said.
I didn’t answer him back or nothin’ an’ he shut up for about a minute. Then he started in on me agin.
“Bet if you was workin’ on somethin’ and needed help, she’d be out there holdin’ onto the end of a board for ya,” he said.
“She might,” I said.
“Bet that Margie gal wouldn’t. She got a spinter or somthin’, she take to the bed for a week.”
“Arliss,” I said, “she’s a sweet little gal an’ terrible purty too, but I ain’t got no interest in Margie.”
“I know it,” he said.
“Then how come you keep on a bringin’ her up?”
“Just makin comparisons, that’s all,” he said. “If a fella is lookin’ for a horse an’ there’s two in the damn pen, he’s well advised to study on both of ‘em for he shakes a loop out for either one of ‘em.”
“I ain’t lookin’,” I said. “I ain’t shakin’ out no loop, I ain’t in the market fer nothin’.”
“Hell you ain’t,” he said. “Yer a man, aintcha?”
“I piss standin’ up,” I said.
“Then yer lookin’!” he said. “I ain’t talking about homesteadin’ and growin’ up a passel a young’uns. I’m just talkin’ about lookin’!”
“Hard not to look,” I confessed.
“She’s lookin’ too, boy. She ain’t got no loop shook out neither, but she’s is damn sure leanin’ agin the fence. She sees more in you than you see in yerself, Rube. So do I. So does Marion. You’ll ketch up to the rest of us, eventually. Meantime, when she sets her cap for ya, don’t git all rattled and jump the damn gate.”
“Mary an’ Joseph, Arliss!” I said, “you are gittin’ to wear on me some.”
“That gal is solid, boy. She’s solid and she’s patient. Just keep that in mind.”
He never said another word to me on the whole rest a the ride. If I was to tell the truth, I might say I missed his mouth. A little.
When we come on Marion’s camp, Arliss announced us. We went on in an’ set. There was coffee on his little fire.
“You boys et?” Marion asked.
I allowed as we had, an’ he went on.
“Here’s the deal,” Marion said. “I got to telegraphin’ Charlie Devens. He’s the Attorney General. He set it up with a bunch of Army riders, an’ I met one a them boys up by Saint Louis, an’ sent him a dispatch with everthing I thought he needed to k
now about what was goin’ on out thisaway. Boys, they was riders spaced out plumb across the country hustlin’ that paperwork from railine to railine. I got a telegraph back in Saint Louis that they took the matter up an’ sent some dispatches an’ telegraphs out to Jeff City to Governor Smith an’ Henry Brockmeyer, the Lieutenant Governor. They give me orders to git back out here. I hit Jeff City about four days ago. Them ol’ boys is worried some about this Arberry Yont feller. Part of it is because a what he’s doin’ out here, an’ part of it is to protect theyselves in case he gits hisself involved in state politics. They don’t want some ol’ boy with lotsa cash tryin’ to join in their fun.”
He stopped for a minute an’ freshed his coffee.
“Phelps and Brockmeyer,” Marion said, “went to the Missouri Court an’ jawed about the mess with Elijah Norton. Him an’ a couple a other judges, John Ward Henry an’ Tom Sherwood, got together with Henry Brockmeyer an’ come up with what they call a special dispensation of lawful authority. There’s all kinds of legal foofarah around it, but what it means is, they is organizin’ what they call a special executive for police action within the State of Missouri. I am still a U.S. Marshal, but I have been vested with indeterminate leave from the Marshal Service to be in charge of that special executive for police action for the state. Now what that means is, I am, by whatever necessary and reasonable means, charged to run Arberry Yont an’ his bunch off.”
“Damn,” I said.
“Ruben,” he said, “that don’t mean I gonna git fifty men an’ chase that sumbitch out to the Arizona Territory or nothin’. What it does mean is authorized legal power, as a officer of the State Court of Missouri, to take action against him. This is all sort of secret. Very soon I will be the head officer in what they call the Missouri State Special Police Service. This is a temporary organization. The state don’t have near enough money to build a whole police force. They don’t want one, anyway. They also don’t want the can a worms around the political shit-storm that would come with tryin’ to organize one. I’ll have a state police commission. So will you, Ruben, so will Homer Poteet, who has agreed to join in our little game, an’ so will Arliss, here, if he decides he want’s one.”
“I ain’t no gunslinger,” Arliss said, “but sign me up.”
“The object here is to avoid a pitched battle anyway,” Marion said. “You boys’ll git commissions, an’ badges too, but you won’t wear ‘em. At least not yet. You’ll also git paid a decent wage. Fifty a month for no more than six months. If we don’t git it done by then, the whole thing is quits. So now, what we havta do is figger out a way to, without hittin’ him with a brick, make Yont get outa hand. We need to piss his ass off. You fellers think about that some while I git back over to Jeff City. I should be back in a week or ten days. We are also gonna need some way to account for Homer showin’ up an’ bein here. He oughta git over this way in a week or less. I don’t need no reason for anything. I’m a goddam marshal. I go where I damn well please. Plus, Arliss an’ me is old friends. I can hang around his place for that reason if I care to. You boys put your heads together. I’ll see you in a few days with your commissions. Now, go home. I am terrible tired.”
Arliss an’ me didn’t say much on the way back to town. We rode down past by his place and I spoke up.
“Why don’t you go on, Arliss,” I said. “I’ll take your mare back to the livery for ya.”
“Thank ya, Rube. Right nice of you.”
I grinned at him. “My daddy always told me to be kind to old folks,” I said, an’ reined Willie away. I could hear Arliss chuckle as I rode off.
When I got to the livery, there was a light burnin’ in the barn. I led the horses in an’ there, settin’ by the light of a oil lamp, wearin’ boots, what I can only believe was her night clothes, an’ holdin’ a book in her hand, was Miss Harmony.
“Well, what in the world are you doin’ up out here this time a night?” I said.
She smiled. “Ruben Beeler,” she said, “you don’t tell me when to put the lamp out.”
“I reckon I don’t,” I said, an’ flipped a stirrup up over the horn. She stepped up and started to git the saddle off the mare. “You just wait up to help me loose these horses?” I asked.
“I’m curious,” she said. “You and Arliss are up to something. What is it?”
“Up to somethin’?” I said. “What makes you think we’re up to somethin’?”
Miss Harmony shook her head and locked eyes with me.
“Ruben,” she said, “I can see straight through you. You and Arliss weren’t out hunting ‘coons tonight. What’s going on?”
“Yer Daddy gonna be around in the mornin’?”
“He usually is,” she said.
“I’m gonna need to talk to him a little.”
“About what?” she asked, liftin’ the mare’s saddle over a rail. She was stout.
“About takin’ on a hired man,” I said. “One that don’t want no wages.”
She turned the mare out an’ looked at me agin.
“Are you going to tell me what all this is about?” she asked.
“Maybe,” I said, “soon as I figger out if I can trust ya.”
That made her laugh, then she turned serious. “Everything is all right though, isn’t it?”
“Yes, it is, Miss Harmony,” I said. “And with a little luck, things’ll soon be some better.”
“All right,” she said. “That’s enough for now, but I will get the truth out of you, Ruben.”
“I don’t think there’s much doubt about that,” I said, as I watched her pick up that lamp an’ walk off toward the house. Her walkin’ away, holdin that lamp in front of her in the dark, was somethin’ to see. I knowed right then that I’d never forget the sight of it.
I was out to the livery at about eight the next mornin’. Verlon was workin’ on the edge of a big ol’ hinge with a heavy file.
“Mornin’, Rube,” he said. “Harmony told me you’d be out to see me. What can I do for ya?”
“Mister Clarke,” I said, “I got a unusual request. There’s a fella comin’ to town soon name of Homer Poteet, although he may not use that name.”
“If he’s tryin’ to hide, he better not,” Verlon said. “I have heard that name before.”
“Yessir,” I said, “I don’t doubt that. Homer will need a place to work. This would be a good place. He probably won’t be much help to ya, but you won’t have to pay him nothin’ either. Homer is a friend of mine an’ part of a very small law force called the Missouri Special State Police. He an’ me, an’ U.S. Marshal Marion Daniels, an Arliss Hyatt are all commissioned by the Missouri State Court an’ the Governor as members of that police force.”
“I’ll be damned, Ruben,” he said. “You was with Daniels an’ Poteet when that bunch got took down over by Gasconade, wasn’t ya?”
“Yessir, I was,” I said.
“You boys is here after Yont too, ain’tcha?”
“Yessir, we are,” I said.
“Hell, son, I’ll do anythin’ I can to help out. Count on me.”
“Thank you sir,” I said. “I appreciate that.”
“An’ I won’t say nothin’ to anybody,” he said. “Not one soul.”
“I knowed ya wouldn’t,” I said, “or I never woulda tolt ya. I know Harmony won’t neither, will ya, Miss Harmony?”
“Not a word from me,” she said, poppin’ up over the edge of the loft.
“Harmony, dammit!” Verlon said, an’ I started in laughin’.
Harmony come down the ladder an’ grinned at us.
“Let this be a lesson to ya, Rube,” Verlon said. “Women are a sneaky breed.”
“I’m going to hitch the team and go get some feed,” Harmony said. “Give you a ride back if you want.”
“Why, thank ya, Miss Harmony,” I said. “Ain’t you nice.”
I helped her hitch the team an’ rode to the feed store an’ helped her load them bags. On the way to Arliss’ place she looked at me a
n’ smiled.
“Not exactly a buggy in the moonlight is it?” I said.
“This will do for now,” she said.
She reined them horses in front of Arliss’ place an’ I jumped down.
“We’ll have our time for buggies and moonlight, Ruben,” she said. “Don’t you get scared and run off, now.”
I walked in the shop an’ Arliss studied on me like I had a dirty face.
“Oh Lord,” he said. “Like a ‘possum in a bear trap.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
When I went over to the doctor’s office after breakfast the next morning, I found Mister Ponder settin’ outside on the boardwalk in a rockin’ chair. He looked some feeble an’ pale.
“You appear to me,” I said, “like you are about ready to go fishin’!”
He smiled real big and nodded. “Let’s go tonight,” he said. “I love catfishin’ of a night.”
“Seems like yer doin’ fine,” I tolt him.
“Doc says that I can maybe go home in two or three weeks,” he said. “Martha can handle the team all right. All she’ll have to do is try to keep ‘em awake.”
“Where is Martha?” I asked.
“She ain’t come back from the boardin’ house yet. She’ll be along purty soon, Miz Clary with her, bringin’ me breakfast on a tray.”
“Looks to me like you got the bull by the nose ring,” I said. “Settin’ out here in the sun, waitin’ for somebody to bring your vittles to ya. That’d be a hard habit to break. Maybe you oughta consider a relapse.”
“I’m spoiled rotten, no doubt about that. Everbody has been real good to us, Mister Beeler. Everbody has been just fine.”
“You an’ Martha earned it the hard way, Mister Ponder,” I said. “You two deserve it. It’s a gift to see you gittin’ better. You say hello to Martha for me. I’ll see ya afore you give all this up an’ go.”
I walked on over to Arliss’ place an’ found him jawin’ with the bluevest, Clarence Banks. They was lookin’ at a old Henry rifle with a broke stock helt together with wood screws.
“It was my daddy’s,” Clarence was sayin’. “It works fine, but I’d just like to have it fixed if it can be done.”
“Can it be done, Rube?” Arliss asked.