True Grit

FIVE

I rose early the next morning, somewhat improved though still wobbly on my feet. I dressed quickly and made haste to the post office without waiting for breakfast. The mail had come in but it was still being sorted and the delivery window was not yet open.

I gave a shout through the slot where you post letters and brought a clerk to the window. I identified myself and told him I was expecting a letter of an important legal nature. He knew of it through Mrs. Floyd’s inquiries and he was good enough to interrupt his regular duties to search it out. He found it in a matter of minutes.

I tore it open with impatient fingers. There it was, the notarized release (money in my pocket!), and a letter from Lawyer Daggett as well.

The letter ran thus:

My Dear Mattie:

I trust you will find the enclosed document satisfactory. I wish you would leave these matters entirely to me or, at the very least, do me the courtesy of consulting me before making such agreements. I am not scolding you but I am saying that your headstrong ways will lead you into a tight corner one day.

That said, I shall concede that you seem to have driven a fair bargain with the good colonel. I know nothing of the man, of his probity or lack of same, but I should not give him this release until I had the money in hand. I feel sure you have taken his measure.

Your mother is bearing up well but is much concerned for you and anxious for your speedy return. I join her in that. Fort Smith is no place for a young girl alone, not even a “Mattie.” Little Frank is down with an earache but of course that is no serious matter. Victoria is in fine fettle. It was thought best that she not attend the funeral.

Mr. MacDonald is still away on his deer hunt and Mr. Hardy was pressed into service to preach Frank’s funeral, taking his text from the 16th chapter of John, “I have overcome the world.” I know Mr. Hardy is not much esteemed for his social qualities but he is a good man in his way and no one can say he is not a diligent student of the Scriptures. The Danville lodge had charge of the graveside service. Needless to say, the whole community is shocked and grieved. Frank was a rich man in friends.

Your mother and I shall expect you to take the first train home when you have concluded your business with the colonel. You will wire me immediately with regard to that and we shall look for you in a day or two. I should like to get Frank’s estate through probate without delay and there are important matters to be discussed with you. Your mother will make no decision without you, nor will she sign anything, not even common receipts; hence nothing can move forward until you are here. You are her strong right arm now, Mattie, and you are a pearl of great price to me, but there are times when you are an almighty trial to those who love you. Hurry home! I am

Thine Truly,

Jno. Daggett

If you want anything done right you will have to see to it yourself every time. I do not know to this day why they let a wool-hatted crank like Owen Hardy preach the service. Knowing the Gospel and preaching it are two different things. A Baptist or even a Campbellite would have been better than him. If I had been home I would never have permitted it but I could not be in two places at once.

Stonehill was not in a quarrelsome mood that morning, indeed he was not snorting or blowing at all but rather in a sad, baffled state like that of some elderly lunatics I have known. Let me say quickly that the man was not crazy. My comparison is not a kind one and I would not use it except to emphasize his changed manner.

He wanted to write me a check and I know that it would have been all right but I did not wish to take the affair this far and risk being rooked, so I insisted on cash money. He said he would have it as soon as his bank opened.

I said, “You do not look well.”

He said, “My malaria is making its annual visitation.”

“I have been a little under the weather myself. Have you taken any quinine?”

“Yes, I am stuffed to the gills with the Peruvian bark. My ears are fairly ringing from it. It does not take hold as it once did.”

“I hope you will be feeling better.”

“Thank you. It will pass.”

I returned to the Monarch to get the breakfast I had paid for. LaBoeuf the Texan was at the table, shaved and clean. I supposed he could do nothing with the “cowlick.” It is likely that he cultivated it.

He was a vain and cocky devil. Mrs. Floyd asked me if the letter had come.

I said, “Yes, I have the letter. It came this morn-“

“Then I know you are relieved,” said she. Then to the others, “She has been awaiting that letter for days.” Then back to me, “Have you seen the colonel yet?”

“I have just now come from that place,” I replied.

LaBoeuf said, “What colonel is that?”

“Why, Colonel Stockhill the stone trader,” said Mrs. Floyd.

I broke in to say, “It is a personal matter.”

“Did you get your settlement?” said Mrs. Floyd, who could no more keep her mouth closed than can a yellow catfish.

“What kind of stones?” said LaBoeuf.

“It is Stonehill the stock trader,” said I. “He does not deal in stones but livestock. I sold him some half-starved ponies that came up from Texas. There is nothing more to it.”

“You are powerful young for a horsetrader,” said LaBoeuf. “Not to mention your sex.”

“Yes, and you are powerful free for a stranger,” said I.

“Her father bought the ponies from the colonel just before he was killed,” said Mrs. Floyd. “Little Mattie here stood him down and made him take them back at a good price.”

Right around 9 o’clock I went to the stock barn and exchanged my release for three hundred and twenty-five dollars in greenbacks. I had held longer amounts in my hand but this money, I fancied, would be pleasing out of proportion to its face value. But no, it was only three hundred and twenty-five dollars in paper and the moment fell short of my expectations. I noted the mild disappointment and made no more of it than that. Perhaps I was affected by Stonehill’s downcast state.

I said, “Well, you have kept your end of the agreement and I have kept mine.”

“That is so,” said he. “I have paid you for a horse I do not possess and I have bought back a string of useless ponies I cannot sell again.”

“You are forgetting the gray horse.”

“Crow bait.”

“You are looking at the thing in the wrong light.”

“I am looking at it in the light of God’s eternal truth.”

“I hope you do not think I have wronged you in any way.”

“No, not at all,” said he. “My fortunes have been remarkably consistent since I came to the ‘Bear State.’ This is but another episode, and a relatively happy one. I was told this city was to be the Chicago of the Southwest. Well, my little friend, it is not the Chicago of the Southwest. I cannot rightly say what it is. I would gladly take pen in hand and write a thick book on my misadventures here, but dare not for fear of being called a lying romancer.”

“The malaria is making you feel bad. You will soon find a buyer for the ponies.”

“I have a tentative offer of ten dollars per head from the Pfitzer Soap Works of Little Rock.”

“It would be a shame to destroy such spirited horseflesh and render it into soap.”

“So it would. I am confident the deal will fall through.”

“I will return later for my saddle.”

“Very good.”

I went to the Chinaman’s store and bought an apple and asked Lee if Rooster was in. He said he was still in bed. I had never seen anyone in bed at 10 o’clock in the morning who was not sick but that was where he was.

He stirred as I came through the curtain. His weight was such that the bunk was bowed in the middle almost to the floor. It looked like he was in a hammock. He was fully clothed under the covers. The brindle cat Sterling Price was curled up on the foot of the bed. Rooster coughed and spit on the floor and rolled a cigarette and lit it and coughed some more. He asked me to bring him some coffee and I got a cup and took the eureka pot from the stove and did this. As he drank, little brown drops of coffee clung to his mustache like dew. Men will live like billy goats if they are let alone. He seemed in no way surprised to see me so I took the same line and stood with my back to the stove and ate my apple.

I said, “You need some more slats in that bed.”

“I know,” said he. “That is the trouble, there is no slats in it at all. It is some kind of a damned Chinese rope bed. I would love to burn it up.”

“It is not good for your back sleeping like that.”

“You are right about that too. A man my age ought to have a good bed if he has nothing else. How does the weather stand out there?”

“The wind is right sharp,” said I. “It is clouding up some in the east.”

“We are in for snow or I miss my guess. Did you see the moon last night?”

“I do not look for snow today.”

“Where have you been, baby sister? I looked for you to come back, then give up on you. I figured you went on home.”

“No, I have been at the Monarch boardinghouse right along. I have been down with something very nearly like the croup.”

“Have you now? The General and me will thank you not to pass it on.”

“I have about got it whipped. I thought you might inquire about me or look in on me while I was laid up.”

“What made you think that?”

“I had no reason except I did not know anybody else in town.”

“Maybe you thought I was a preacher that goes around paying calls on all the sick people.”

“No, I did not think that.”

“Preachers don’t have nothing better to do. I had my work to see to. Your Government marshals don’t have time to be paying a lot of social calls. They are too busy trying to follow all the regulations laid down by Uncle Sam. That gentleman will have his fee sheets just and correct or he does not pay.”

“Yes, I see they are keeping you busy.”

“What you see is a honest man who has worked half the night on his fee sheets. It is the devil’s own work and Potter is not here to help me. If you don’t have no schooling you are up against it in this country, sis. That is the way of it. No sir, that man has no chance any more. No matter if he has got sand in his craw, others will push him aside, little thin fellows that have won spelling bees back home.”

I said, “I read in the paper where they are going to hang the Wharton man.”

“There was nothing else they could do,” said he. “It is too bad they cannot hang him three or four times.”

“When will they do the job?”

“It is set for January but Lawyer Goudy is going to Washington city to see if President Hayes will not commute the sentence. The boy’s mother, Minnie Wharton, has got some property and Goudy will not let up till he has got it all.”

“Will the President let him off, do you think?”

“It is hard to say. What does the President know about it? I will tell you. Nothing. Goudy will claim the boy was provoked and he will tell a bushel of lies about me. I should have put a ball in that boy’s head instead of his collarbone. I was thinking about my fee. You will sometimes let money interfere with your notion of what is right.”

I took the folded currency from my pocket and held it up, showing it to him.

Rooster said, “By God! Look at it! How much have you got there? If I had your hand I would throw mine in.”

“You did not believe I would come back, did you?”

“Well, I didn’t know. You are a hard one to figure.”

“Are you still game?”

“Game? I was born game, sis, and hope to die in that condition.”

“How long will it take you to get ready to go?”

“Ready to go where?”

“To the Territory. To the Indian Territory to get Tom Chaney, the man who shot my father, Frank Ross, in front of the Monarch boardinghouse.”

“I forget just what our agreement was.”

“I offered to pay you fifty dollars for the job.”

“Yes, I remember that now. What did I say to that?”

“You said your price was a hundred dollars.”

“That’s right, I remember now. Well, that’s what it still is. It will take a hundred dollars.”

“All right.”

“Count it out there on the table.”

“First I will have an understanding. Can we leave for the Territory this afternoon?”

He sat up in the bed. “Wait,” he said. “Hold up. You are not going.”

“That is part of it,” said I.

“It cannot be done.”

“And why not? You have misjudged me if you think I am silly enough to give you a hundred dollars and watch you ride away. No, I will see the thing done myself.”

“I am a bonded U.S. marshal.”

“That weighs but little with me. R. B. Hayes is the U. S. President and they say he stole Tilden out.”

“You never said anything about this. I cannot go up against Ned Pepper’s band and try to look after a baby at one and the same time.”

“I am not a baby. You will not have to worry about me.”

“You will slow me down and get in my way. If you want this job done and done fast you will let me do it my own way. Credit me for knowing my business. What if you get sick again? I can do nothing for you. First you thought I was a preacher and now you think I am a doctor with a flat stick who will look at your tongue every few minutes.”

“I will not slow you down. I am a good enough rider.”

“I will not be stopping at boardinghouses with warm beds and plates of hot grub on the table. It will be traveling fast and eating light. What little sleeping is done will take place on the ground.”

“I have slept out at night. Papa took me and Little Frank coon hunting last summer on the Petit Jean.”

“Coon hunting?”

“We were out in the woods all night. We sat around a big fire and Yarnell told ghost stories. We had a good time.”

“Blast coon hunting! This ain’t no coon hunt, it don’t come in forty miles of being a coon hunt!”

“It is the same idea as a coon hunt. You are just trying to make your work sound harder than it is.”

“Forget coon hunting. I am telling you that where I am going is no place for a shirttail kid.”

“That is what they said about coon hunting. Also Fort Smith. Yet here I am.”

“The first night out you will be taking on and crying for your mama.”

I said, “I have left off crying, and giggling as well. Now make up your mind. I don’t care anything for all this talk. You told me what your price for the job was and I have come up with it. Here is the money. I aim to get Tom Chaney and if you are not game I will find somebody who is game. All I have heard out of you so far is talk. I know you can drink whiskey and I have seen you kill a gray rat. All the rest has been talk. They told me you had grit and that is why I came to you. I am not paying for talk. I can get all the talk I need and more at the Monarch boardinghouse.”

“I ought to slap your face.”

“How do you propose to do it from that hog wallow you are sunk in? I would be ashamed of myself living in this filth. If I smelled as bad as you I would not live in a city, I would go live on top of Magazine Mountain where I would offend no one but rabbits and salamanders.”

He came up out of the bunk and spilt his coffee and sent the cat squalling. He reached for me but I moved quickly out of his grasp and got behind the stove. I picked up a handful of expense sheets from the table and jerked up a stove lid with a lifter. I held them over the flames. “You had best stand back if these papers have any value to you,” said I.

He said, “Put them sheets back on the table.”

I said, “Not until you stand back.”

He moved back a step or two. “That is not far enough,” said I. “Go back to the bed.”

Lee looked in through the curtain. Rooster sat down on the edge of the bed. I put the lid back on the stove and returned the papers to the table.

“Get back to your store,” said Rooster, turning his anger on Lee. “Everything is all right. Sis and me is making medicine.”

I said, “All right, what have you to say? I am in a hurry.”

He said, “I cannot leave town until them fee sheets is done. Done and accepted.”

I sat down at the table and worked over the sheets for better than an hour. There was nothing hard about it, only I had to rub out most of what he had already done. The forms were ruled with places for the entries and figures but Rooster’s handwriting was so large and misguided that it covered the lines and wandered up and down into places where it should not have gone. As a consequence the written entries did not always match up with the money figures.

What he called his “vouchers” were scribbled notes, mostly undated. They ran such as this: “Rations for Cecil $1.25,” and “Important words with Red .65 cts.”

“Red who?” I inquired. “They are not going to pay for this kind of thing.”

“That is Society Red,” said he. “He used to cut cross-ties for the Katy. Put it down anyway. They might pay a little something on it.”

“When was it? What was it for? How could you pay sixty-five cents for important words?”

“It must have been back in the summer. He ain’t been seen since August when he tipped us on Ned that time.”

“Was that what you paid him for?”

“No, Schmidt paid him off on that. I reckon it was cartridges I give him. I give a lot of cartridges away. I cannot recollect every little transaction.”

“I will date it August fifteenth.”

“We can’t do that. Make it the seventeenth of October. Everything on this bunch has to come after the first of October. They won’t pay behind that. We will date all the old ones ahead a little bit.”

“You said you haven’t seen the man since August.”

“Let us change the name to Pig Satterfield and make the date the seventeenth of October. Pig helps us on timber cases and them clerks is used to seeing his name.”

“His Christian name is Pig?”

“I never heard him called anything else.”

I pressed him for approximate dates and bits of fact that would lend substance to the claims. He was very happy with my work. When I was finished he admired the sheets and said, “Look how neat they are. Potter never done a job like this. They will go straight through or I miss my bet.”

I wrote out a short agreement regarding the business between us and had him sign it. I gave him twenty-five dollars and told him I would give him another twenty-five when we made our departure. The fifty dollars balance would be paid on the successful completion of the job.

I said, “That advance money will cover the expenses for the both of us. I expect you to provide the food for us and the grain for our horses.”

“You will have to bring your own bedding,” said he.

“I have blankets and a good oilskin slicker. I will be ready to go this afternoon as soon as I have got me a horse.”

“No,” said he, “I will be tied up at the courthouse. There are things I must attend to. We can get off at first light tomorrow. We will cross the ferry for I must pay a call on an informer in the Cherokee Nation.”

“I will see you later today and make final plans.”

I took dinner at the Monarch. The man LaBoeuf did not appear and I hopefully assumed he had moved on for some distant point. After a brief nap I went to the stock barn and looked over the ponies in the corral. There did not seem to be a great deal of difference in them, apart from color, and at length I decided on a black one with white forelegs.

He was a pretty thing. Papa would not own a horse with more than one white leg. There is a foolish verse quoted by horsemen to the effect that such a mount is no good, and particularly one with four white legs. I forget just how the verse goes but you will see later that there is nothing in it.

I found Stonehill in his office. He was wrapped in a shawl and sitting very close to his stove and holding his hands up before it. No doubt he was suffering from a malarial chill. I pulled up a box and sat down beside him and warmed myself.

He said, “I just received word that a young girl fell head first into a fifty-foot well on the Towson Road. I thought perhaps it was you.”

“No, it was not I.”

“She was drowned, they say.”

“I am not surprised.”

“Drowned like the fair Ophelia. Of course with her it was doubly tragic. She was distracted from a broken heart and would do nothing to save herself. I am amazed that people can bear up and carry on under these repeated blows. There is no end to them.”

“She must have been silly. What do you hear from the Little Rock soap man?”

“Nothing. The matter is still hanging fire. Why do you ask?”

“I will take one of those ponies off your hands. The black one with the white stockings in front. I will call him ‘Little Blackie.’ I want him shod this afternoon.”

“What is your offer?”

“I will pay the market price. I believe you said the soap man offered ten dollars a head.”

“That is a lot price. You will recall that I paid you twenty dollars a head only this morning.”

“That was the market price at that time.”

“I see. Tell me this, do you entertain plans of ever leaving this city?”

“I am off early tomorrow for the Choctaw Nation. Marshal Rooster Cogburn and I are going after the murderer Chaney.”

“Cogburn?” said he. “How did you light on that greasy vagabond?”

“They say he has grit,” said I. “I wanted a man with grit.”

“Yes, I suppose he has that. He is a notorious thumper. He is not a man I should care to share a bed with.”

“No more would I.”

“Report has it that he rode by the light of the moon with Quantrill and Bloody Bill Anderson. I would not trust him too much. I have heard too that he was particeps criminis in some road-agent work before he came here and attached himself to the courthouse.”

“He is to be paid when the job is done,” said I. “I have given him a token payment for expenses and he is to receive the balance when we have taken our man. I am paying a good fee of one hundred dollars.”

“Yes, a splendid inducement. Well, perhaps it will all work out to your satisfaction. I shall pray that you return safely, your efforts crowned with success. It may prove to be a hard journey.”

“The good Christian does not flinch from difficulties.”

“Neither does he rashly court them. The good Christian is not willful or presumptuous.”

“You think I am wrong.”

“I think you are wrongheaded.”

“We will see.”

“Yes, I am afraid so.”

Stonehill sold me the pony for eighteen dollars. The Negro smith caught him and brought him inside on a halter and filed his hoofs and nailed shoes on him. I brushed the burrs away and rubbed him down. He was frisky and spirited but not hysterical and he submitted to the treatment without biting or kicking us.

I put a bridle on him but I could not lift Papa’s saddle easily and I had the smith saddle him. He offered to ride the pony first. I said I thought I could handle him. I climbed gingerly aboard. Little Blackie did nothing for a minute or so and then he took me by surprise and pitched twice, coming down hard with his forelegs stiff, giving severe jolts to my “tailbone” and neck. I would have been tossed to the ground had I not grabbed the saddle horn and a handful of mane. I could get a purchase on nothing else, the stirrups being far below my feet. The smith laughed but I was little concerned with good form or appearance. I rubbed Blackie’s neck and talked softly to him. He did not pitch again but neither would he move forward.

“He don’t know what to make of a rider so light as you,” said the smith. “He thinks they is a horsefly on his back.”

He took hold of the reins near the pony’s mouth and coaxed him to walk. He led him around inside the big barn for a few minutes, then opened one of the doors and took him outside. I feared the daylight and cold wind would set Blackie off anew, but no, I had made me a “pal.”

The smith let go of the reins and I rode the pony down the muddy street at a walk. He was not very responsive to the reins and he worried his head around over the bit. It took me a while to get him turned around. He had been ridden before but not, I gathered, in a good long time. He soon fell into it. I rode him about town until he was lightly sweating.

When I got back to the barn the smith said, “He ain’t so mean, is he?”

I said, “No, he is a fine pony.”

I adjusted the stirrups up as high as they would go and the smith unsaddled Little Blackie and put him in a stall. I fed him some corn but only a small measured amount as I was afraid he might founder himself on the rich grain. Stonehill had been feeding the ponies largely on hay.

It was growing late in the day. I hurried over to Lee’s store, very proud of my horse and full of excitement at the prospect of tomorrow’s adventure. My neck was sore from being snapped but that was a small enough bother, considering the enterprise that was afoot.

I went in the back door without knocking and found Rooster sitting at the table with the man LaBoeuf. I had forgotten about him.

“What are you doing here?” said I.

“Hidy,” said LaBoeuf. “I am having a conversation with the marshal. He did not go to Little Rock after all. It is a business conversation.”

Rooster was eating candy. He said, “Set down, sis, and have a piece of taffy. This jaybird calls himself LaBoeuf. He claims he is a State Ranger in Texas. He come up here to tell us how the cow eat the cabbage.”

I said, “I know who he is.”

“He says he is on the track of our man. He wants to throw in with us.”

“I know what he wants and I have already told him we are not interested in his help. He has gone behind my back.”

“What is it?” said Rooster. “What is the trouble?”

“There is no trouble, except of his own making,” said I. “He made a proposition and I turned it down. That is all. We don’t need him.”

“Well now, he might come in handy,” said Rooster. “It will not cost us anything. He has a big-bore Sharps carbine if we are jumped by buffaloes or elephants. He says he knows how to use it. I say let him go. We might run into some lively work.”

“No, we don’t need him,” said I. “I have already told him that. I have got my horse and everything is ready. Have you seen to all your business?”

Rooster said, “Everything is ready but the grub and it is working. The chief deputy wanted to know who had done them sheets. He said he would put you on down there at good wages if you want a job. Potter’s wife is fixing the eats. She is not what I call a good cook but she is good enough and she needs the money.”

LaBoeuf said, “I reckon I must have the wrong man. Do you let little girls hooraw you, Cogburn?”

Rooster turned his cold right eye on the Texan. “Did you say hooraw?”

“Hooraw,” said LaBoeuf. “That was the word.”

“Maybe you would like to see some real hoorawing.”

“There is no hoorawing in it,” said I. “The marshal is working for me. I am paying him.”

“How much are you paying him?” asked LaBoeuf.

“That is none of your affair.”

“How much is she paying you, Cogburn?”

“She is paying enough,” said Rooster.

“Is she paying five hundred dollars?”

“No.”

“That is what the Governor of Texas has put up for Chelmsford.”

“You don’t say so,” said Rooster. He thought it over. Then he said, “Well, it sounds good but I have tried to collect bounties from states and railroads too. They will lie to you quicker than a man will. You do good to get half what they say they will pay. Sometimes you get nothing. Anyhow, it sounds queer. Five hundred dollars is mightly little for a man that killed a senator.”

“Bibbs was a little senator,” said LaBoeuf. “They would not have put up anything except it would look bad.”

“What is the terms?” said Rooster.

“Payment on conviction.”

Rooster thought that one over. He said, “We might have to kill him.”

“Not if we are careful.”

“Even if we don’t they might not convict him,” said Rooster. “And even if they do, by the time they do there will be a half dozen claims for the money from little top-water peace officers down there. I believe I will stick with sis.”

“You have not heard the best part,” said LaBoeuf.

“The Bibbs family has put up fifteen hundred dollars for Chelmsford.”

“Have they now?” said Rooster. “The same terms?”

“No, the terms are these: just deliver Chelmsford up to the sheriff of McLennan County, Texas. They don’t care if he is alive or dead. They pay off as soon as he is identified.”

“That is more to my liking,” said Rooster. “How do you figure on sharing the money?”

LaBoeuf said, “If we take him alive I will split that fifteen hundred dollars down the middle with you and claim the state reward for myself. If we have to kill him I will give you a third of the Bibbs money. That is five hundred dollars.”

“You mean to keep all the state money yourself?”

“I have put in almost four months on this job. I think it is owing to me.”

“Will the family pay off?”

LaBoeuf replied, “I will be frank to say the Bibbses are not loose with their money. It holds to them like the cholera to a nigger. But I guess they will have to pay. They have made public statements and run notices in the paper. There is a son, Fatty Bibbs, who wants to run for the man’s seat in Austin. He will be obliged to pay.”

He took the reward notices and newspaper cuttings out of his corduroy coat and spread them out on the table. Rooster looked them over for some little time. He said, “Tell me what your objection is, sis. Do you wish to cut me out of some extra money?”

I said, “This man wants to take Chaney back to Texas. That is not what I want. That was not our agreement.”

Rooster said, “We will be getting him all the same. What you want is to have him caught and punished. We still mean to do that.”

“I want him to know he is being punished for killing my father. It is nothing to me how many dogs and fat men he killed in Texas.”

“You can let him know that,” said Rooster. “You can tell him to his face. You can spit on him and make him eat sand out of the road. You can put a ball in his foot and I will hold him while you do it. But we must catch him first. We will need some help. You are being stiff-necked about this. You are young. It is time you learned that you cannot have your way in every little particular. Other people have got their interests too.”

“When I have bought and paid for something I will have my way. Why do you think I am paying you if not to have my way?”

LaBoeuf said, “She is not going anyhow. I don’t understand this conversation. It is not sensible. I am not used to consulting children in my business. Run along home, little britches, your mama wants you.”

“Run home yourself,” said I. “Nobody asked you to come up here wearing your big spurs.”

“I told her she could go,” said Rooster. “I will see after her.”

“No,” said LaBoeuf. “She will be in the way.”

Rooster said, “You are taking a lot on yourself.”

LaBoeuf said, “She will spell nothing but trouble and confusion. You know that as well as I do. Stop and think. She has got you buffaloed with her saucy ways.”

Rooster said, “Maybe I will just catch this Chaney myself and take all the money.”

LaBoeuf considered it. “You might deliver him,” he said. “I would see you did not collect anything for it.”

“How would you do that, jaybird?”

“I would dispute your claim. I would muddy the waters. They will not want much to back down. When it is all over they might shake your hand and thank you for your trouble and they might not.”

“If you did that I would kill you,” said Rooster. “Where is your profit?”

“Where is yours?” said LaBoeuf. “And I would not count too much on being able to shade somebody I didn’t know.”

“I can shade you all right,” said Rooster. “I never seen anybody from Texas I couldn’t shade. Get cross-ways of me, LaBoeuf, and you will think a thousand of brick has fell on you. You will wisht you had been at the Alamo with Travis.”

“Knock him down, Rooster,” said I.

LaBoeuf laughed. He said, “I believe she is trying to hooraw you again. Look here, I have had enough quarreling. Let us get on with our business. You have done your best to accommodate this little lady, more than most people would do, and yet she will still be contrary. Send her on her way. We will get her man. That is what you agreed to do. What if something happens to her? Have you thought about that? Her people will blame you and maybe the law will have something to say too. Why don’t you think about yourself? Do you think she is concerned with your interest? She is using you. You have got to be firm.”

Rooster said, “I would hate to see anything happen to her.”

“You are thinking about that reward money,” said I. “It is a pig in a poke. All you have heard from LaBoeuf is talk and I have paid you cash money. If you believe anything he says I do not credit you with much sense. Look at him grin. He will cheat you.”

Rooster said, “I must think about myself some too, sis.”

I said, “Well, what are you going to do? You cannot carry water on both shoulders.”

“We will get your man,” said he. “That is the main thing.”

“Let me have my twenty-five dollars. Hand it over.”

“I have spent it all.”

“You sorry piece of trash!”

“I will try and get it back to you. I will send it to you.”

“That’s a big story! If you think you are going to cheat me like this you are mistaken! You have not seen the last of Mattie Ross, not by a good deal!”

I was so mad I could have bitten my tongue off. Sterling Price the cat sensed my mood and he tucked his ears back and scampered from my path, giving me a wide berth.

I suppose I must have cried a little but it was a cold night and by the time I reached the Monarch my anger had cooled to the point where I could think straight and lay plans. There was not time enough to get another detective. Lawyer Daggett would be up here soon looking for me, probably no later than tomorrow. I thought about making a complaint to the head marshal. No, there was time for that later. I would have Lawyer Daggett skin Rooster Cogburn and nail his verminous hide to the wall. The important thing was not to lose sight of my object and that was to get Tom Chaney.

I took supper and then set about getting my things together. I had Mrs. Floyd prepare some bacon and biscuits and make little sandwiches of them. But not so little as all that, as one of her biscuits would have made two of Mama’s. Very flat though, she skimped on baking powder. I also bought a small wedge of cheese from her and some dried peaches. These things I secured in a sack.

Mrs. Floyd was alive with curiosity and I told her I was going over into the Territory with some marshals to look at a man they had arrested. This did not satisfy her by any means but I pleaded ignorance of details. I told her I would likely be gone for several days and if my mother or Lawyer Daggett made inquiries (a certainty) she was to reassure them as to my safety.

I rolled up the blankets with the sack of food inside and then wrapped the slicker around the roll and made it fast with some twine. I put Papa’s heavy coat on over my own coat. I had to turn the cuffs back. My little hat was not as thick and warm as his so I traded. Of course it was too big and I had to fold up some pages from the New Era and stick them inside the band to make for a snug fit. I took my bundle and my gun sack and left for the stock barn.

Stonehill was just leaving when I got there. He was singing the hymn Beulah Land to himself in a low bass voice. It is one of my favorites. He stopped singing when he saw me.

“It is you again,” said he. “Is there some complaint about the pony?”

“No, I am very happy with him,” said I. “Little Blackie is my ‘chum.’”

“A satisfied customer gladdens the heart.”

“I believe you have picked up some since last I saw you.”

“Yes, I am a little better. Richard’s himself again. Or will be ere the week is out. Are you leaving us?”

“I am getting an early start tomorrow and I thought I would stay the balance of the night in your barn. I don’t see why I should pay Mrs. Floyd a full rate for only a few hours sleep.”

“Why indeed.”

He took me inside the barn and told the watchman it would be all right for me to stay the night on the office bunk. The watchman was an old man. He helped me to shake out the dusty quilt that was on the bunk. I looked in on Little Blackie at his stall and made sure everything was in readiness. The watchman followed me around.

I said to him, “Are you the one that had his teeth knocked out?”

“No, that was Tim. Mine was drawn by a dentist. He called himself a dentist”

“Who are you?”

“Toby.”

“I want you to do something.”

“What are you up to?”

“I am not free to discuss it. Here is a dime for you. At two hours before sunup I want you to feed this pony. Give him a double handful of oats and about the same amount of corn, but no more, along with a little hay. See that he has sufficient water. At one hour before sunup I want you to wake me up. When you have done that, put this saddle and this bridle on the pony. Have you got it all straight?”

“I am not simple, I am just old. I have handled horses for fifty years.”

“Then you should do a good job. Do you have any business in the office tonight?”

“I cannot think of any.”

“If you do have, take care of it now.”

“There is nothing I need in there.”

“That’s fine. I will close the door and I do not want a lot of coming and going while I am trying to sleep.”

I slept well enough wrapped in the quilt. The fire in the office stove had been banked but the little room was not so cold as to be very uncomfortable. The watchman Toby was true to his word and he woke me in the chill darkness before dawn. I was up and buttoning my boots in a moment. While Toby saddled the horse I washed myself, using some of his hot coffee water to take the sting out of a bucket of cold water.

It came to me that I should have left one of the bacon sandwiches out of the bundle for breakfast, but you can never think of everything. I did not want to open it up now. Toby gave me a portion of his grits that he had warmed up.

“Do you not have any butter to put on it?” I asked him.

“No,” said he, and I had to eat it plain. I tied my roll behind the saddle as I had seen Papa do and I made doubly sure it was secure.

I could see no good place to carry the pistol. I wanted the piece ready at hand but the belt was too big around for my waist and the pistol itself was far too big and heavy to stick in the waist of my jeans. I finally tied the neck of the gun sack to the saddle horn with a good knot about the size of a turkey egg.

I led Little Blackie from his stall and mounted him. He was a little nervous and jumpy but he did not pitch. Toby tightened the girth again after I was aboard.

He said, “Have you got everything?”

“Yes, I believe I am ready. Open the door, Toby, and wish me luck. I am off for the Choctaw Nation.”

It was still dark outside and bitter cold although mercifully there was little wind. Why is it calm in the early morning? You will notice that lakes are usually still and smooth before daybreak. The frozen, rutted mud of the streets made uncertain going for Little Blackie in his new shoes. He snorted and snapped his head from time to time as though to look at me. I talked to him, saying silly things.

Only four or five people were to be seen as I rode down Garrison Avenue, and they scurrying from one warm place to another. I could see lamps coming on through windows as the good people of Fort Smith began to stir for the new day.

When I reached the ferry slip on the river I dismounted and waited. I had to move and dance about to keep from getting stiff. I removed the paper wadding from inside the hatband and pulled the hat down over my ears. I had no gloves and I rolled Papa’s coat sleeves down so that my hands might be covered.

There were two men running the ferry. When it reached my side and discharged a horseman, one of the ferrymen hailed me.

“Air you going acrost?” said he.

“I am waiting for someone,” said I. “What is the fare?”

“Ten cents for a horse and rider.”

“Have you seen Marshal Cogburn this morning?”

“Is that Rooster Cogburn?”

“That is the man.”

“We have not seen him.”

There were few passengers at that hour but as soon as one or two turned up the ferry would depart. It seemed to have no schedule except as business demanded, but then the crossing was not a long one. As gray dawn came I could make out chunks of ice bobbing along out in the current of the river.

The boat made at least two circuits before Rooster and LaBoeuf appeared and came riding down the incline to the slip. I had begun to worry that I might have missed them. Rooster was mounted on a big bay stallion that stood at about sixteen hands, and LaBoeuf on a shaggy cow pony not much bigger than mine.

Well, they were a sight to see with all their arms. They were both wearing their belt guns around their outside coats and LaBoeuf cut a splendid figure with his white-handled pistols and Mexican spurs. Rooster was wearing a deerskin jacket over his black suit coat. He carried only one revolver on his belt, an ordinary-looking piece with grips of cedar or some reddish wood. On the other side, the right side, he wore a dirk knife. His gun belt was not fancy like LaBoeuf’s but only a plain and narrow belt with no cartridge loops. He carried his cartridges in a sack in his pocket. But he also had two more revolvers in saddle scabbards at his thighs. They were big pistols like mine. The two officers also packed saddle guns, Rooster a Winchester repeating rifle and LaBoeuf a gun called a Sharps rifle, a kind I had never seen. My thought was this: Chaney, look out!

They dismounted and led their horses aboard the ferry in a clatter and I followed at a short distance. I said nothing. I was not trying to hide but neither did I do anything to call attention to myself. It was a minute or so before Rooster recognized me.

“Sure enough, we have got company,” said he.

LaBoeuf was very angry. “Can you not get anything through your head?” he said to me. “Get off this boat. Did you suppose you were going with us?”

I replied, “This ferry is open to the public. I have paid my fare.”

LaBoeuf reached in his pocket and brought out a gold dollar. He handed it to one of the ferrymen and said, “Slim, take this girl to town and present her to the sheriff. She is a runaway. Her people are worried nearly to death about her. There is a fifty-dollar reward for her return.”

“That is a story,” said I.

“Let us ask the marshal,” said LaBoeuf. “What about it, marshal?”

Rooster said, “Yes, you had best take her away. She is a runaway all right. Her name is Ross and she came up from Yell County. The sheriff has a notice on her.”

“They are in this story together,” said I. “I have business across the river and if you interfere with me, Slim, you may find yourself in court where you don’t want to be. I have a good lawyer.”

But the tall river rat would pay no heed to my protests. He led my pony back on to the slip and the boat pulled away without me. I said, “I am not going to walk up the hill.” I mounted Little Blackie and the river rat led us up the hill. When we reached the top I said, “Wait, stop a minute.” He said, “What is it?” I said, “There is something wrong with my hat.” He stopped and turned around. “Your hat?” said he. I took it off and slapped him in the face with it two or three times and made him drop the reins. I recovered them and wheeled Little Blackie about and rode him down the bank for all he was worth. I had no spurs or switch but I used my hat on his flank to good effect.

About fifty yards below the ferry slip the river narrowed and I aimed for the place, going like blazes across a sandbar. I popped Blackie all the way with my hat as I was afraid he might shy at the water and I did not want to give him a chance to think about it. We hit the river running and Blackie snorted and arched his back against the icy water, but once he was in he swam as though he was raised to it. I drew up my legs behind me and held to the saddle horn and gave Blackie his head with loose reins. I was considerably splashed.

The crossing was badly chosen because the narrow place of a river is the deepest and it is there that the current is swiftest and the banks steepest, but these things did not occur to me at the time; shortest looked best. We came out some little ways down the river and, as I say, the bank was steep and Blackie had some trouble climbing it.

When we were up and free I reined in and Little Blackie gave himself a good shaking. Rooster and LaBoeuf and the ferryman were looking at us from the boat. We had beaten them across. I stayed where I was. When they got off the boat LaBoeuf hailed me, saying, “Go back, I say!” I made no reply. He and Rooster had a parley.

Their game soon became clear. They mounted quickly and rode off at a gallop with the idea of leaving me. What a foolish plan, pitting horses so heavily loaded with men and hardware against a pony so lightly burdened as Blackie!

Our course was northwesterly on the Fort Gibson Road, if you could call it a road. This was the Cherokee Nation. Little Blackie had a hard gait, a painful trot, and I made him speed up and slow down until he had achieved a pace, a kind of lope, that was not so jarring. He was a fine, spirited pony. He enjoyed this outing, you could tell.

We rode that way for two miles or more, Blackie and I hanging back from the officers at about a hundred yards. Rooster and LaBoeuf at last saw that they were making no gain and they slowed their horses to a walk. I did the same. After a mile or so of this they stopped and dismounted. I stopped too, keeping my distance, and remained in the saddle.

LaBoeuf shouted, “Come here! We will have a conversation with you!”

“You can talk from there!” I replied. “What is it you have to say?”

The two officers had another parley.

Then LaBoeuf shouted to me again, saying, “If you do not go back now I am going to whip you!”

I made no reply.

LaBoeuf picked up a rock and threw it in my direction. It fell short by about fifty yards.

I said, “That is the most foolish thing that ever I saw!”

LaBoeuf said, “Is that what you will have, a whipping?”

I said, “You are not going to whip anybody!”

They talked some more between themselves but could not seem to settle on anything and after a time they rode off again, this time at a comfortable lope.

Few travelers were on the road, only an Indian now and then on a horse or a mule, or a family in a spring wagon. I will own I was somewhat afraid of them although they were not, as you may imagine, wild Comanches with painted faces and outlandish garb but rather civilized Creeks and Cherokees and Choctaws from Mississippi and Alabama who had owned slaves and fought for the Confederacy and wore store clothes. Neither were they sullen and grave. I thought them on the cheerful side as they nodded and spoke greetings.

From time to time I would lose sight of Rooster and LaBoeuf as they went over a rise or around a bend of trees, but only briefly. I had no fears that they could escape me.

Now I will say something about the land. Some people think the present state of Oklahoma is all treeless plains. They are wrong. The eastern part (where we were traveling) is hilly and fairly well timbered with post oak and blackjack and similar hard scrub. A little farther south there is a good deal of pine as well, but right along in here at this time of year the only touches of green to be seen were cedar brakes and solitary holly trees and a few big cypresses down in the bottoms. Still, there were open places, little meadows and prairies, and from the tops of those low hills you could usually see a good long distance.

Then this happened. I was riding along woolgathering instead of keeping alert and as I came over a rise I discovered the road below me deserted. I nudged the willing Blackie with my heels. The two officers could not be far ahead. I knew they were up to some “stunt.”

At the bottom of the hill there was a stand of trees and a shallow creek. I was not looking for them there at all. I thought they had raced on ahead. Just as Blackie was splashing across the creek Rooster and LaBoeuf sprang from the brush on their horses. They were right in my path. Little Blackie reared and I was almost thrown.

LaBoeuf was off his horse before you could say “Jack Robinson,” and at my side. He pulled me from the saddle and threw me to the ground, face down.

He twisted one of my arms behind me and put his knee in my back. I kicked and struggled but the big Texan was too much for me.

“Now we will see what tune you sing,” said he. He snapped a limb off a willow bush and commenced to push one of my trouser legs above my boot. I kicked violently so that he could not manage the trouser leg. Rooster remained on his horse. He sat up there in the saddle and rolled a cigarette and watched. The more I kicked the harder LaBoeuf pressed down with his knee and I soon saw the game was up. I left off struggling. LaBoeuf gave me a couple of sharp licks with the switch. He said, “I am going to stripe your leg good.”

“See what good it does you!” said I. I began to cry, I could not help it, but more from anger and embarrassment than pain. I said to Rooster, “Are you going to let him do this?”

He dropped his cigarette to the ground and said, “No, I don’t believe I will. Put your switch away, LaBoeuf. She has got the best of us.”

“She has not got the best of me,” replied the Ranger.

Rooster said, “That will do, I said.”

LaBoeuf paid him no heed.

Rooster raised his voice and said, “Put that switch down, LaBoeuf! Do you hear me talking to you?”

LaBoeuf stopped and looked at him. Then he said, “I am going ahead with what I started.”

Rooster pulled his cedar-handled revolver and cocked it with his thumb and threw down on LaBoeuf. He said, “It will be the biggest mistake you ever made, you Texas brush-popper.”

LaBoeuf flung the switch away in disgust and stood up. He said, “You have taken her part in this all along, Cogburn. Well, you are not doing her any kindness here. Do you think you are doing the right thing? I can tell you you are doing the wrong thing.”

Rooster said, “That will do. Get on your horse.”

I brushed the dirt from my clothes and washed my hands and face in the cold creek water. Little Blackie was getting himself a drink from the stream. I said, “Listen here, I have thought of something. This ‘stunt’ that you two pulled has given me an idea. When we locate Chaney a good plan will be for us to jump him from the brush and hit him on the head with sticks and knock him insensible. Then we can bind his hands and feet with rope and take him back alive. What do you think?”

But Rooster was angry and he only said, “Get on your horse.”

We resumed our journey in thoughtful silence, the three of us now riding together and pushing deeper into the Territory to I knew not what.