Dry Divide (7 page)

Bones slapped me on the back, and said, “I'll bet on you, Son. If you haven't heard from me by Monday evening, come see me. My house is right across the corner.”

Kitten spooked when I went toward her with the blanket roll across my shoulder. I had to waste maybe ten minutes, letting her look it over and smell it before she quieted enough to be mounted. Then I held her to a walk until we'd climbed the high hills that rimmed the valley. There I let her out to a lope, but slowed her at each deep gulch or steep hill, for I'd blistered badly from so long a bareback ride.

We'd reached the top of the divide and picked up the lope again when headlights came into sight about a mile ahead of us. A minute or so later they turned off to the east, and I knew whose lights they were. I slowed Kitten to a walk, and watched the lights turn down between the wheat fields, then describe a small circle in the yard and blink out. A few minutes later a tiny oblong of yellow light showed that a lamp had been lighted in the house. I stopped Kitten, and she stood quietly until the light went out. Then I rode her on to the corral, turned her in, and went to our camp behind the barn.

As near as I could judge, it was about ten o'clock, so I expected to find the other fellows sleeping, but they weren't. When I came around the corner of the barn they were all fully dressed and standing in a knot by the pup tent. Doc stepped toward me and whispered, “Hudson's on a tear. Must have missed the pony when he drove in.”

“Did he come back here?” I asked.

“No,” he said. “Went right to the house, but he was bawling like a bull after he got in there. Couldn't make out what it was all about, but he was sure madder'n a bear in a trap.”

The other fellows had gathered around us, looking worried, so I told them, “Then there's nothing to worry about. If he didn't dare come back here when he first found the mare missing he won't dare come now. Sit down and let me tell you about the deal I made in town.”

Paco was as curious as any of the others, and probably a bit more worried for fear there was trouble brewing. Before I started my story I gave him the blanket roll, told him in Spanish that everything was going to be all right, and asked if he'd like to make beds for Doc and me while I talked to the others. I didn't hold anything back in telling them the story, but tried to keep the language simple enough that Gus, Lars, and Jaikus could understand it clearly.

Before I'd finished Gus and Lars were looking at each other and nodding their heads, but I didn't want to let anyone speak until I'd told my whole plan, so I said, “This is the way I've figured it out: Today we kept three barges on the run because Hudson was taking a lot more straw than necessary, and because you had to chase him around that forty-acre field. Two barges could have done it without any running if he'd taken only enough straw to get all the heads, and if the stacks had been at the center of the field instead of at one end. Then if he hadn't tried to run his horses and had the breakdowns, we could have harvested the forty acres in ten hours instead of fourteen. If we go at it the right way, I think eight of us can harvest fifty acres in a thirteen-hour day. At two dollars an acre, that's a hundred bucks. I'll take out twenty for horses, equipment, and grub, then if we split the balance between us it will give us ten dollars apiece. If we can't finish by the end of the month, and I have to settle for a dollar and a half an acre, you'll still draw ten dollars apiece for every fifty acres we've harvested, and I'll take the other five to cover the grub. Is that a fair deal?”

Every one of them said it was, that they'd stick by me, and would gamble on any wages they earned before the attachments were served. “Then this is what we'd better do,” I told them. “We won't be working tomorrow, or Hudson wouldn't have had the horses turned out to pasture. As soon as we've had breakfast we'll clear out of here, and stay away till bed time. In that way we'll keep out of any wrangles with him, and we'll be here for breakfast Monday morning. Let's turn in and get what sleep we can; it must be nearly midnight.”

I'd forgotten about Paco during our talk, but when Doc and I went to the beds he'd made for us he was sitting in the middle of his own; knees drawn up, sombrero on, and his colorful blanket wrapped around his shoulders. I'd have spoken to him and told him to get some sleep, except that Doc was wound up like a dollar watch. “Tell you what we'll do, Bud,” he was saying. “I always swore I'd never get another callous on my hands, but as soon as this deal goes through I'll take on the stacking job, and you run the header. We ought to clean up a couple of hundred bucks apiece by the end of the month, then you and I'll go into the medicine-show business—and brother, we'll clean up a fortune.”

“We'll talk about it when this job is over,” I told him, “but let's get some sleep now; I'm tuckered.”

I'd crawled into my folded blanket before I noticed that Paco was still sitting up with his around his shoulders. I whispered for him to lie down and get some sleep, but he mumbled that he wasn't sleepy yet.

6

Completamente Aplastada

S
OMETIMES
I have trouble in going to sleep when I'm a bit worried, but the night I made the deal with Bones I must have blanked out the moment Paco answered me. The next thing I knew, Hudson bellowed, “All hands out!”

My eyes snapped open just in time to see Paco leap to his feet, his blanket flying in mid-air, and a pitchfork clutched in his hands, but Hudson was nowhere in sight. Paco said he'd never come as far as the corner of the barn, but shouted before he got there, and turned back. There was no doubt that he planned to work that day, for it couldn't have been later than quarter-past-four. “Well?” Doc asked, as much as to say, “Are we going to work or not?”

“Let's go do it,” I told the fellows, “but stay away from Hudson, and don't blow up if he yells at you. If he wants to start trouble, let him start it with me; I'm the one he's mad at.”

A lamp was lit in the kitchen, and as we went to the windmill to wash we could see Hudson eating at the table. He came out and headed for the barn just as we finished washing. Breakfast was on the table, the door to the next room stood slightly ajar, and the house was deathly still. We filed in, took our places, and had begun eating in silence when I heard the jumble of a panicked horse's hoofs in the yard. It was followed by Hudson's voice, swearing and angry, and by a rhythmic cracking of the blacksnake. We all sat with our mouths full, but not chewing, as the sounds went on for a full two minutes or more. A moment later Hudson streaked past the windmill on Kitten, and I caught a glimpse of him through the window, spurring viciously, and beating her with the doubled blacksnake. After a few minutes, Doc mumbled, “Let's get out of here.”

I was the last in line, and was just leaving the kitchen when Judy called in a frightened voice, “Bud.” As I turned she came running across the kitchen to me, clutched my shirt sleeves hysterically, and told me, “Bud, you got to get away from here! You got to get away quick! Myron will kill you. He says he's going to learn you and Kitten a lesson you'll neither of you never forget, and he's learnt Kitten hers a'ready. If you're here when he brings the horses in he'll get you sure.”

Judy had on her working clothes, with the cap pulled so far down that I couldn't see her face, so I put my hand under her chin and turned it up to me. “No, he won't, Judy,” I told her. “You just stop and think a minute. In the first place, he wouldn't dare to touch me with the crew around; he knows Paco would kill him. In the second place, he doesn't dare touch me anyway. He didn't know the others were awake when I rode in last night. If he wanted to catch me alone, he'd have laid for me when I was putting Kitten into the corral. He'll do a lot of yelling, and trying to egg me into starting something, but that's as far as he'll go.”

She still clung to me, and her lips trembled as she said, “You don't know him, Bud. He's a'ready beat up . . .”

“I know all about it,” I broke in. “Bones told me last night. Things are going to be all right, and I'm going to stay right here, maybe till the end of the month. I won't let him start any trouble—not if he cusses me till sundown. Now you run along and get some breakfast; the boys are waiting for me.” As I said it, I leaned over, kissed her on the forehead, and went out.

The other fellows were standing in a knot by the corral gate, Jaikus jabbering to Old Bill, Gus and Lars looking stolid, and Paco leaning on a pitchfork. When I was halfway across the yard, Doc called to me, “Let's get away from here. Crazy or not, this man isn't safe to be around.”

I didn't answer him till I reached the gate, then said, “It's up to you fellows. I can't tell you what to do; I can only tell you what I'm going to do. I'm going to stay right here. If we leave now we'll brand ourselves as yellow; if we stay, Hudson will brand himself that color.”

Then, to give them a little chance to think, I turned to Paco, told him there'd be no need of the pitchfork, and asked if he'd like to milk the cows for the señora. When I turned back, Gus and Lars were nodding to each other, and Jaikus was nudging Old Bill. It was enough to let me know that I'd turned the crew my way for the moment, but I couldn't be sure it would stay turned if we just stood waiting for Hudson to bring the horses in, so I said, “Those barge wheels have dried out enough that they'll fall to pieces before the day's over unless we get 'em off and put to soak.”

It probably took us a half hour to take the wheels off and put them to soak in the tank, but there was no sign of Hudson, so I had a mental picture of him; chasing the frightened horse herd around the pasture, cursing, lashing, and trying to drive them into the lane. Paco had finished milking and was carrying the buckets to the house when he suddenly set them down and came running to me, shouting, “
El jefe! El jefe! Completamente aplastada!
”

My Spanish was far from good, but I knew that
jefe
meant
boss
, and that
aplastada
meant
crushed
or
smashed
. For a moment I couldn't make sense out of what Paco was shouting, then he turned and pointed toward the windmill. Beyond it, and part way down the pasture lane, Kitten came slowly, turned quartering, and dragging a motionless load from the off stirrup of the saddle. None of us needed to be told what she was dragging, and we all ran toward her, but at sight of us she spooked and turned back toward the pasture. I motioned the others to wait, then walked ahead slowly, keeping up a steady babble of talk, just loud enough to reach Kitten's ears.

At the sound of my voice she stopped, swung her head toward me, and stood with it high, ears erect, ready to plunge away if I made a quick move. I stood and waited a minute or more for her nerves to let down a bit, then moved on again, talking all the while. She kept her head high and her ears up until she caught my scent, then all the sap seemed to drain out of her. Her head drooped, and she stood quietly while I went to her. I had to pass Hudson's body to reach her. One foot was hung in the stirrup, with the end of the whip coiled twice around it, binding it as tightly as a living blacksnake could have.

There was no reason to hurry about releasing the foot, but Kitten needed comforting if ever a horse did. She was trembling in every nerve and muscle, and I had to pet and stroke her several minutes before the trembling quieted. Then I untied the latigo straps, let the cinch fall free, and eased the saddle to the ground. It wasn't until then that I looked back toward the house. The others, with Judy and her sister among them, were standing by the windmill, motionless, and looking toward us as sheep will stare at a sight that awes them.

I led Kitten to the mill, passed the reins to Paco, and told him to put her in the corral. Then I went straight to Mrs. Hudson. She was dry eyed, and I could see no grief in her face; only horror and confusion. “There's nothing that can be done,” I told her. “If a bed can be made ready, we'll bring him to the house.”

She just stood, looking at me in a confused sort of way for maybe a minute, then asked, “Could you wait till Judy takes the children away? She can drive the. . . .” Before she could finish the sentence she slumped in a dead faint, but Doc caught her, lifted her in his arms, and carried her to the house.

Judy had seemed awestruck until her sister fainted, then she became nearly hysterical. She started to follow Doc, then turned and ran back to me, clutched my sleeves convulsively, and pleaded, “Don't bring him, Bud! Don't bring him now! Don't let the children see him! With Sis fainted and all, I don't know when I can take 'em away. Bud, you won't. . . .”

With each word she was becoming more hysterical, so I put an arm around her, led her toward the house, and told her, “Of course I won't, Judy, and with a doctor right here to take care of your sister there's no reason for you to worry about her. We'll cover Myron with a blanket and stay away from here till after you've gone. In that way the children will never know anything has happened. Where are you going to take them?”

“Home,” she told me. “Paw and my other sister will look after 'em. I'll be back in not more'n an hour.”

“Before you come,” I told her, “stop and tell Bones what has happened. He'll need to know before he makes some phone calls that he was planning to make. And you tell your sister that I'll stay right here until her crop is harvested.”

Judy hadn't looked up at me as we walked from the windmill to the kitchen doorway, but as I took my arm away and she stepped inside, she looked up with her eyes brimming and said, “God bless you, Bud. I'll never forget you as long as I live.” As if she were ashamed of what she'd said, she ran across the kitchen to the door that still stood ajar at the far side.

I motioned to the other fellows and started slowly toward the barn. When they caught up with me I told them, “The best thing we can do is to stay out of sight till the children are taken away. I'll carry a blanket up and cover the body, but we'll leave it where it is till they're gone.”

I'd little more than glanced at Hudson when I went to get Kitten, but when I took the blanket back I could see that Paco had chosen the right words when he'd said, “
Completamente aplastada
.” The chest was crushed almost flat. There was blood around the mouth and nose, and at both sides of the shirt, where broken ribs had cut through the skin. But even though the sun was less than an hour high, the bloodstains were dry. There could be only one answer: when Kitten had taken all the punishment she could stand she'd caught him with the whip wound around his foot, and had thrown herself over backwards before he could jump clear. It could only be that she'd done it almost immediately after he'd ridden her into the pasture, and that it had taken her the rest of the time to drag his body back. I didn't stop to release the foot from the stirrup, but spread the blanket over saddle and all, then turned back to our camp behind the barn.

There is seldom any reason to grieve for the dead; only for those who are left behind. And in Hudson's case there was no reason to grieve for them. I was the only one who could be in any way injured by his death. With him gone, there was no reason for any banker to foreclose a mortgage or put an attachment on the crop, and without them my deal would certainly be as dead as Hudson.

At our camp I told the other fellows what I thought had happened, and that our deal would be off, then we sat in silence until we heard the old Maxwell backfire as Judy started it and drove away. When I went to the house, I found Doc helping Mrs. Hudson clear one of the front rooms and make up a bed in it. The room was almost barren, its only furniture a packing box with flour sacks tacked around it to make a table, and an old iron bed that sagged deeply in the middle. Doc was at one side and Mrs. Hudson at the other, drawing a patched sheet up over the stained mattress. She looked up as I stepped into the doorway, and said, “You could bring Myron in now; Judy has took the children to my folks.” There was neither grief nor emotion in her voice or face; only a sort of blank confusedness.

No matter how much a man may have been despised, his remains demand some reverence, so we made a stretcher from two boards, laid the body on it, straightened the legs, folded the hands, and wrapped the blanket from my bed around the whole litter. Then Gus and Lars carried it to the house. Mrs. Hudson stood emotionless while they laid the blanket-shrouded litter on the bed, then Doc put a hand under her elbow and led her to the kitchen, while the rest of us went to our camp. There was nothing to say or do, so I did what I'd always done when there was time to be waited out; found a piece of wood, whetted my jackknife on the sole of my boot, and began whittling a little horse. I'd done it ever since I was old enough to carry a knife, and nothing ever made time slip away faster.

I'd whittled only enough to outline the head and neck when I heard an automobile drive into the yard and stop. I knew it couldn't be Judy, because there was no clattering, and the engine ran smoothly until it was shut off. With Doc at the house there was no reason for my going, so I kept on with my whittling for maybe another half hour. Then I heard Judy drive in, and a few minutes later she came to the corner of the barn and called, “Bud, Sis and Bones want to talk to you.” She didn't wait for me, and was out of sight by the time I'd put my whittling away and gone around the barn.

When I reached the corner of the house Doc and Judy were sitting on the windmill platform, talking, and when I went to the back door Mrs. Hudson and the banker were seated at the kitchen table. “Come in, Son,” Bones said when he looked up and saw me, “there's some things we'd better talk about. Sit here where we can look at each other.”

“I understand,” I said, and took a chair opposite him.

For maybe a minute after I'd taken the seat, Bones looked down at his hands, pulling one finger after another until the knuckles snapped. It was plain enough that he didn't like to tell me what he was going to, and I knew well enough what it would be. After he'd cracked all five knuckles, he looked up and said, “Last night I made you an out-and-out promise that I'd foreclose on Myron's horses, equipment and harness, and let you have the whole works on a note for three hundred dollars.”

Then he stopped and cracked another knuckle, so I said, “That's right, but you didn't know what was going to happen then, any more than I did. There'd be no sense in foreclosing now, and I'll never try to hold you to the deal.” As I said it I took the memorandum out of my pocket and pushed it across the table toward him.

That time he cracked two knuckles before he said, “We shook hands on it, didn't we, Son?”

“Sure,” I said, “and I'll shake with you again to release you.”

“
That's
what I wanted to hear,” he said, “and what I wanted Clara to hear. I wanted her to know what kind of a man she was dealing with. We've talked the whole thing over, and she wants to go through with the deal just the way we made it last night. She won't have any use for horses after this crop is in, and if it's as good as I think, she'll be well fixed for years to come. Of course you understand there won't be any attachments now, and your deal will be with Clara, not me or the other lien holders, but she's told me to open that account for you, just like we talked about, and to credit it every week with what you've harvested. Do you want that I make out a new paper for her to sign?”