The Golden Goose

13

It was not quite midnight, and Coley lay staring up at the invisible ceiling. He had been in bed only a short time, having made a couple of detours on his way back from Princess O’Shea’s. He had found Winston Whitfield already nested down across the room, and Coley had undressed noiselessly. Now, lying motionless, Coley suddenly knew that Winnie was awake. He could feel it. Vibrations.

He spoke in a loud voice. “You’ve been awake all along, Winnie, haven’t you?”

“Yes, I have,” came Winnie’s voice, coldly.

“Then why the hell did you let me creep around in the dark like a dope?”

“I didn’t care to talk.”

“You sore at me about something?”

“Should I be?”

“Don’t play cute with me, old Winnie. You’re jealous of Prin. Isn’t that it?”

“Don’t flatter yourself, Coley Collins. Me jealous? Ha, ha.”

“You don’t like her.”

“I don’t like any girl, you know that. Though if I did, I’d probably go for her.”

“That’s a real compliment, Winnie, coming from you.”

There was a half-sour, half-pleased grunt. Then Winnie’s voice, not quite so cold, said, “I suppose there’s no mistake, Coley? You really want to marry her?”

“Yes, but don’t worry. We’ll work out something for you.”

“She won’t let me live with you. She says she won’t.”

“Well,” said Coley judiciously, “in a way you can’t blame her.”

“I’ll be lonesome when you go away. I may go away myself.”

“Where to?”

“I don’t know. Somewhere.”

“You stay right in Cibola City. Then I won’t have to fret about you. You make enough money in that stock-clerk job to get by on. Maybe I can even help you out a little now and then.”

“No, I’ll be less lonesome off somewhere,” said Winnie stubbornly. “I couldn’t stand your being so close and living with somebody else.”

“But she’ll be my wife, old Winnie. Doesn’t that make it kind of different?”

“No,” said Winnie.

“What about your snakes? If you went away you’d have to get rid of your snakes.”

There was a stricken silence. Then Winnie muttered, “Gosh, I forgot about that. You’re right, Coley. I’ll have to stay here.”

“It will work out just fine,” said Coley with relief. “You’ll see.”

“While you live in that big house across town.” Winnie was cold-voiced again.

“That’s what I thought. Now I’m not so sure.”

“How come?” asked Winnie, with a faint interest.

“Oh, just something that’s come up.”

“I hope you do live there. In a big house like that you could certainly find room for me. And that girl is real gone on you, Coley, anyone can see that. So if you put your foot down—”

“The snakes,” said Coley.

Winnie sighed. Coley cursed in silence. Winnie was a bloody nuisance, but he was an amusing little devil, and Coley hated to hurt him or see him droopy-faced.

“Did Prin have to wait long for me?” he asked encouragingly.

“Oh, maybe fifteen minutes.”

“What did you talk about?”

“Nothing much. Snakes. You. How you’re studying embezzlement and all.”

“You’d better go easy on the embezzlement bit, Winnie.”

“She knew all about it,” said Winnie, hotly this time. “Said you’d told her yourself.”

“I guess I did at that. Prin’s all right. Understands lots of things. What else did you talk about?”

“Nothing! Just snakes and you. I told you.”

“You’re a pal. Most fellows talking to a doll like Prin would have talked mostly about themselves.”

“I don’t,” said Winnie shortly.

“There’s no use trying to cheer you up. Sleepy?”

“No.”

“Well, better try. You know how early you have to get up.”

“It won’t do any good.”

“You can try, can’t you?”

“All right,” mumbled Winnie; and there was silence.

Coley lay brooding. He had been brooding all evening. His detours en route from Prin’s had taken him into two bars, in each of which he had brooded over beer. His brooding was deep and bitter and befuddled, for what he was brooding about was Prin’s revelation that Aunt Lallie O’Shea was coming into Slater O’Shea’s entire estate.

It did not make sense.

Coley knew that it did not make sense. Knew it — not wished it, or guessed it, or heard it on the wind. Coley knew that it did not make sense because he had had very specific information to the contrary straight from the horse’s mouth.

So he lay in the dark and brooded.

And after a while he stopped brooding and listened for Winnie Whitfield’s breathing. When Winnie Whitfield was asleep his breathing sounded like a cage full of terrified birds trying to get away from a tiger-striped cat, with a dog on the floor near the cage trying to get at the cat. Winnie was not sleep-breathing. Winnie was awake-breathing.

“Winnie,” Coley said.

“What?” Winnie said.

“About Prin,” Coley said.

“What about her?” Winnie said.

“I know she gets on your nerves. She does, doesn’t she?”

“Yes,” Winnie said.

“All right, then. If she should come around again when I’m not here, don’t talk to her. Don’t even let her in. Just tell her I’m not here and slam the door.”

“Hard?” asked Winnie, his voice brightening.

“Hard as you can.”

“Oh, boy,” said Winnie.

“Satisfied, Winnie?”

“Oh, boy,” said Winnie.

“Now try to get some sleep.”

That being taken care of, Coley went back to brooding again. And in the other room the snakes kept doing whatever snakes do at night.