He glared at me. “Don’t you think I won’t, boy,” he said.
“Yer welcome anytime, Sheriff,” I said. “By the way, you see a boy around here, Yont, why don’t you buy him a stick a peppermint?”
He heavy-footed it out then. I looked at my plate, but I didn’t have much use for food any more.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Arliss was in the front of the shop when I come in. He took one look at me and spoke up.
“Hell’s the matter with you, boy?” he said.
“Yont just ruint my breakfast,” I told him. “He come into the Sweetwater an’ tried to start up with me. I tolt him to see me later when I wasn’t eatin’. He oughter be along soon. Sonofabitch.”
Arliss smiled. “Settle down, Rube,” he said. “If a feller gits ya all pissed off, he’s controllin’ ya. You got to understand the rule a opposites.”
I shifted my weight an’ shrugged. “The what?” I said.
“You got the bit in yer teeth, doncha?”
“Well hell, Arliss” I said, “that butthole come in there an…”
“He come in there an’ you got pissed off the minute you see’d him, didn’t ya?”
“Well a course I did!”
“An’ now, yer pissed off ‘cause I’m calm about the whole thing.”
Sayin’ that like he done kindly pulled me up short. “I damn shore ain’t pissed off at you!” I said.
“Sure you are,” Arliss said. “I’m controllin’ ya. Not much fun, is it?”
I looked at him for a minute an’ felt my shoulders settle some. “No, it ain’t,” I said.
“There ya go,” Arliss said, smilin’ at me. “Now that yer more ready to listen, I’ll go on. The rule a opposites is real simple. When yer dealin’ with somebody in a confrontation a some kind, just do the opposite a what he expects ya to do. If he git’s loud, you git quiet. The faster he goes, the slower you go. He gits to wavin’ his arms an’ spittin’, you fold yer arms an’ lean back agin somethin’. The more excited he gits, the more calm you git. The nastier he gits, the nicer you git. Don’t participate in the bullshit. You do that, an’ he won’t git the upper hand on ya. You do that, and you’ll drive that sumbitch nuts. Don’t do what he expects you to do.”
I thought on that fer a minute. “That makes some sense,” I said.
Arliss shook his head. “That makes a lotta sense,” he said, “yer still just too pissed off to admit it.”
I stared at him an’ he blew a kiss at me. I couldn’t help it, I started grinnin’
“What’s Yont’s number one malfunction this mornin’?” Arliss asked.
“Last night I walked Miss Harmony home after the bonfire,” I said. “Turns out that there was one a them bluevests follerin’ us. Homer see’d him closin’ up behind me when I was walkin’ back an’ smacked him out with his Colt. Said he didn’t think he kilt him.”
“You didn’t notice him followin’ ya?”
“Nossir, I didn’t, I’m ashamed to say.”
“Uh-huh,” Arliss said. “That gal kissed ya goodnight, didn’t she?”
“Gawdammit, Arliss!” I said.
He grinned at me. “Let this be a lesson to you, boy,” he said. “You wanna go out an’ git to smoochin’ on that gal, take a bodyguard with ya.”
I went out back.
A little later I was workin’ on the railing of my porch with a mallet when Yont an’ a bluevest come showed up. Yont was struttin’ some , an’ the deputy was tryin’ to look mean. I stopped my poundin’.
“Hello there, Sheriff,” I said. “Purty mornin’. What can I do for ya?”
“I got a deputy with a bandage around his head,” he said. “The doc thinks he’s got a fractured skull!”
“Well, that ain’t good,” I said.
“You damn right it ain’t,” Yont said. “What do you know about it?”
“What makes you think I’d know anything about that, Sheriff?” I asked him.
“’Cause it happened over by the livery, an’ I know you walked that Clarke girl home last night!”
“How would you know somethin’ like that, Sheriff?” I said. “You have one a your hounds on my trail?”
“What?”
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I don’t believe I stuttered. You heard me.”
“Goddammit!” he yelled. “I know you had somthin’ to do with my hurt deputy!”
“This ain’t about yer deputy, Sheriff,” I said, keepin’ my voice low an’ calm like. “This here is about you. Everthing is about you. These people, this town, it’s all about you. I believe the pressure a bein’ town law here is gittin’ to be some hard on ya.”
“Now you listen to me, you sonofabitch!”
“Whoa now,” I said. “You don’t know my mother.”
I could see in his face that he knowed he’d stepped in it. The deputy knowed it, too.
“So far we just been jawin,” I said. “Now yer gittin’ personal. I won’t have you talkin’ about my mother, Arberry. I’m sure you wouldn’t want me talkin’ about yours.”
Yont didn’t have no place to go but back. I warn’t totin’ no gun, but he was in arm’s reach of me an’ I still had my mallet.
“Yer right,” he said. “I wouldn’t.”
“Arberry,” I said, “I’m gonna tell the truth to ya. Yes, I walked Miss Harmony home last night. No, I did not see a deputy. No, I had nothin’ to do with anybody gittin’ their head busted. Now, judgin’ by what you’ve said to me, somebody was followin’ me around last night. I don’t care for that. I’m sure you wouldn’t like it much either. I don’t expect it to happen again, but if I notice somebody followin’ me, I will put a stop to it.”
“That a threat, Mister Beeler?” Arberry said.
“Yessir, it is,” I said. “It is also a fact. Somebody doggin’ my backtrail is enemy action. I don’t take kindy to something like that. I got a way a goin’ right straight at that kinda thing.”
Yont curled his lip then. “You think yer kinda tough, doncha?” he said.
I smiled at him. “There’s tougher men than me, Sheriff,” I said. “I’m friendly with a couple of ‘em. I ain’t particular tough, but I am terrible determined. So far, that’s been enough.”
Yont stretched up to as big as he could git, which was considerable. “We’ll talk again,” he growled.
“You betcha, Sheriff,” I said. “Lookin’ forward to it. I enjoy our little chats. Drop by anytime.”
He left then, his boots kickin’ up little puffs a dust. I set my mallet down an’ just breathed a while.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
I went ahead back to work on the railing an’ just got it finished when Arliss come out.
“Ya need a rockin chair, Rube,” he said. “Give ya a good place to set an’ watch the lightnin’ bugs of a evenin’.”
“That’d be nice,” I agreed.
“Got the place lookin’ real good,” he said. “Bout done, aintcha?”
“I still got to hook up the stove pipe an’ git the collars in,” I said.
“Collars?” he said. “Mor’n one?”
“Yessir. I’m gonna put me in a ceilin’ an’ fix me a vent for it up at the peak of the roof. Then I’m gonna cut some holes in the soffet. I’ll cover everthin’ with screen wire to keep the birds an’ bugs out. That way, in summer weather, the roof will vent some of the hot air out an’ kindly be like shade for the place, an’ in the winter, the ceilin’ will keep the heat from the stove a little closer in the livin’ space.”
“Now that there makes a little sense don’t it?” Arliss said.
“Then I’m gonna build a cabinet with drawers to put things in an’ my clothes an’ such, an’ a coat rack a some kind by the door. Then a small table an’ a couple stools, then git a rocker you mentioned, or maybe a swing for the porch. I’ll put in a couple barrels to ketch up some rainwater. I don’t fancy diggin’ no cistern. Not in this rocky ol’ dirt.”
Arliss smiled. “Be a right nice p
lace for ya, Rube,” he said.
“Yessir,” I said. “Miss Harmony said it was just the first step on my journey.”
Arliss’ smile jumped up into a grin. “That’s what she said, did she?”
“Arliss,” I said, “Doan you go makin’ nothin’ outa that, dammit. She was just talkin’ about no matter how far a fella has to go, he cain’t take more than one step at a time at it.”
“Smart girl,” he said. “What’d ol’ Arberry have to say to you durin’ his little visit?”
I tolt him an’ he studied on it some.
“Didn’t say nothin’ about you runnin’ for sheriff, huh?” Arliss said.
“Nossir. Not a word.”
“You know anything about them bluevests he’s got with him?” Arliss asked.
“Just Clarence, an’ he’s with us now,” I said.
“You do what you want to, Rube,” Arliss said, “but if’n I was you, I’d talk to Clarence ‘bout them deputies. See if any of them boys has got sand an’ if any of ‘em is a real shootist. Good to know what to watch out for in case the bull busts through the gate.”
“I’d figgerd on it,” I said.
“I thought ya had,” Arliss said. “How long before you git in the place here, ya think?”
“Couple a weeks, if I keep after it,” I said. “Be nice to sleep without bein’ jammed up in a place with four or five other folks snorin’ away in rooms all around me. You mind if I use the team an’ wagon to go git some pine?”
“Go ahead on, boy,” he said. “Durn near anythin’ I got belongs to you as much as me.”
I went on over to the livery an’ caught up the team. Fer as big an’ stout as them mules was, they was real agreeable. Just from bein’ around mules, I was careful of ‘em. I seen a big ol’ Missouri mule pick a fella clean up off the ground by the shoulder one time. That ol’ boy bled like he’d been gunshot. The mule jest stood there after he dropped him, ears back an’ waitin’ to see who was gonner be next. My daddy said that the reason you couldn’t never trust no mule was because they was so smart, an’ if one of ‘em ever got the bulge on ya, ya might as well sell him ‘cause you’d never be able to git ahead of him again. But I never had no trouble with Arliss’ mules. They handled purty much like good mannered horses. Neither one of ‘em ever tried to bite me or shook a leg at me or nothin’.
I had just finished hitchin’ ‘em up when Miss Harmony come in. She smiled.
“You makin’ a run for it, Ruben?” she asked.
“Yes, I am,” I tolt her. “I figger eight legs can take more steps than just two.”
She laughed at that an’ told me to write to her if I found work.
My mouth got sorta dry. “Miss Harmony,” I said, “tomorrow bein’ Sunday an’ all, maybe you could see your way clear for you an’ me to go for a buggy ride or somethin’. See some of the country an’ waste a little bit a time.”
“Are you saying that spending time with me is a waste?” she said.
“No m’am,” I said. “That there is not what I meant! I’m just sayin’ that…”
“I know what you’re saying, Ruben,” she said, grinnin’ at me. “I would be pleased to waste a little time with you. Why don’t I make up some fried chicken or something to take with us while we waste our time?”
“Why, that would just suit me right down to the ground, Miss Harmony,” I said, “an’ less aggravatin’ than biddin’ against Arliss for a box.”
“If it’s your pleasure then,” she said, “why don’t you come by tomorrow around noon.
“Noon it is,” I said.
“Noon it is,” she said, an’ walked back toward the house.
I clumb on that wagon then an’ started off. Just as I passed the end of the barn, Homer Poteet’s voice come floatin’ my way out the mow door.
“Rube an’ Harmony, settin’ in a tree…” it said.
I popped the whip an’ put them mules in a trot so I wouldn’t have to hear the rest of it.
I got lucky down at the yards. Turns out a riverboat had foundered on a sandbar upstream on the Missouri a ways an’ they couldn’t git it off, so they tore it up for salvage. I managed to git me two captain’s chairs, a big ol chester drawers, a small table, a little-bitty table, a washstand with a pitcher an’ a basin an’ a lookin’ glass, a full wagon of enough a tongue an’ groove finished pine boards, already painted white, to do my ceilin’ an’ two walls at the front a Arliss’ shop, a eight by twelve horsehair rug in blue an’ black, some blue curtains an’ brass rods for my windas, an’ a real purty brass oil lamp that would hang from a wall on a big brass hook. It took me four trips to git all that stuff back to my place. Arliss come with me on the last three. I spent near forty dollars, but it was worth it.
The next mornin’ I went up to the shack an’ spent two or three hours settin’ in some of the boards for my ceilin’. I went back to Miz’ Clary’s then an’ washed up, shaved my face, brushed my teeth with salt, put on my cleanest pair a saddle pants, the brown striped shirt I’d never wore afore, knocked some of the dust offa my hat, slapped on a little Bay Rum, hitched up the Schofield, an’ walked down to the livery.
I stepped inside the barn an’ there was Willie, all saddled up, an’ Homer Poteet, puttin’ a saddle on a good lookin’ little liver-chestnut mare that I hadn’t never seen ‘til then.
“Howdy there, Rube,” Homer said to me. “Ya might check on your saddle an’ make sure I got it where ya want it on his withers.”
“Hi, Homer,” I said. “What are ya doin’?”
“What does it look like, boy? I’m gittin’ the horses ready for you an’ Harmony to go on your ride. Ain’t this chestnut a purty little thing?”
“I thought we was goin’ in a buggy,” I said.
“Reckon not,” he said, reachin’ under the mare to collect the cinch. “She brought this mare down here a little while ago an’ asked if I’d saddle these two up for ya.”
‘Bout that time, Miss Harmony come walkin’ in. She was wearin’ what looked like a long skirt to me, but what turned out to be kindly a pair a pants with big ol’ pleated legs. She was carryin’ a canteen an’ some saddle bags.
“Hello, Ruben,” she said, smilin’ at me. “Nice of Mister Poteet to saddle our horses for us, don’t you think?”
“Yes, it is, Miss Harmony,” I said, sorta confused.
“We have biscuits and bacon if we get hungry,” she said. “Shall we go?”
She led that little mare on out. Homer, grinnin’ like a damn possum, handed me Willie’s reins an’ punched me on the arm. “Now you two children have a good time an’ play nice,” he said.
I got out in the sunshine in time to see Miss Harmony swing up onto her horse. That’s when I noticed that skirt was pants. I clumb up on Willie an’ she reined her horse an’ started off. I followed her on.
We hit a wagon trail goin’ west, an’ she put that mare in a short lope. I eased up beside her an’ we rode on that way a little as I watched her out of the corner of my eye.
“Miss Harmony,” I said, “I got to say that you set a horse real comfortable like.”
She laughed, her face shinin’ in the sun. “Are you saying that I don’t ride like a girl?” she said.
“I reckon I am,” I said. “It speaks good for ya, I believe.”
“You think so?” she said, an’ touched the chestnut. That little mare took off. I give Willie my heels an’ hissed at him. He laid back his ears an’ done what he liked to do.
I had to check him back a little so he wouldn’t pass the mare, an’ we went on like that for a ways, afore Miss Harmony started laughin’ an’ reined her horse in. We dropped into a walk to cool ‘em out some.
“That buckskin can run a little,” she said.
“He’s fast,” I said, “an’ quick, too. I git a choice, I’d just as soon have a quick horse than a fast one. I’m lucky with Willie. He’s both. Yer chestnut is a purty thing. I like the color of her.”
“She’s easy to use.” Mi
ss Harmony said.
We rode on that way for bit, then she turned off on a path an’ I followed her. We didn’t go mor’n a half a mile afore we come down a little slope. In the draw at the bottom they was a nice flat spot with a little sandy-bottom pool not much bigger’n two or three big dinner tables strung end to end, with a spring seepin’ in one end an’ a little trickle of a overflow out the other. A purty good size willa tree shaded it some. On down where the overflow went, maybe a hunnerd yards, was a grove a river birches. Everthin’ else was knee-high grass except some gravel on the near side a that little pond.
“Ain’t this purty,” I said.
“I used to come out here to wade when I was little,” she said. “My momma and daddy would picnic while my brother and I played in the water."
Miss Harmony got down then. I swung off, too. She looked at me. “You set us up a place to sit, Ruben. I’ll gather some dry switches.”
I took down my slicker an’ spread it out in the shade, next to that spot a gravel. Miss Harmony come over with a big armload a dried up willa branches an’ piled ‘em up. I got some more an’ she fetched her saddlebags. She pulled a rash a bacon in a bag an’ some biscuits in a paper sack out one side, an’ a little skillet an’ a pine knot outa the other. I busted up some a them switches, set two rocks a little ways apart, put that pine knot down between ‘em, an’ built kindly a tent of them switches over it. The knot went off with one match an’, right smart, we had us a little fire. She let it burn down some, then set that skillet on them rocks an’ put five or six slices a that thick-cut bacon in. Then she commenced to bustin’ up more switches. Willa switches burn up purty quick.
“I got to say it, Miss Harmony,” I said to her. “You just ain’t terrible girly, are ya?”
She laughed then, an’ I had to join her. “I have never been accused of it,” she said.
“The only other girl I really know around here is that Margie gal what waits tables in the Sweetwater. She’s nice an’ all, but she’s as flighty as a canary. Chirps kindly like one, too.”
That caused her to laugh again. “You have a way of getting to the point, Ruben,” she said. “You and she kept company for a while, didn’t you?”