True Grit (13 page)

LaBoeuf came in lugging our bedrolls and other traps. He said, "There are six horses out there in that cave, Cogburn."

"What kind of horses?" said Rooster.

"They look like right good mounts to me. I think they are all shod."

Rooster questioned the thieves about the horses and Quincy claimed they had bought them at Fort Gibson and were taking them down to sell to the Indian police called the Choctaw Light Horse. But he could show no bill of sale or otherwise prove the property and Rooster did not believe the story. Quincy grew sullen and would answer no further questions.

I was sent out to gather firewood and I took the lamp, or rather the bull's-eye lantern, for that was what it was, and kicked about in the snow and turned up some sticks and fallen saplings. I had no ax or hatchet and I dragged the pieces in whole, making several trips.

Rooster made another pot of coffee. He put me to slicing up the salt meat and corn dodgers, now frozen hard, and he directed Quincy to pick the feathers from the turkey and cut it up for frying. LaBoeuf wanted to roast the bird over the open fire but Rooster said it was not fat enough for that and would come out tough and dry.

I sat on a bench on one side of the table and the thieves sat on the other side, their manacled hands resting between them up on the table. The thieves had made pallets on the dirt floor by the fireplace and now Rooster and LaBoeuf sat on these blankets with their rifles in their laps, taking their ease. There were holes in the walls where the sod had fallen away and the wind came whistling through these places, making the lantern flicker a little, but the room was small and the fire gave off more than enough heat. Take it all around, we were rather cozily fixed.

I poured a can of scalding water over the stiff turkey but it was not enough to loosen all the feathers. Quincy picked them with his free hand and held the bird steady with the other. He grumbled over the awkwardness of the task. When the picking was done he cut the bird up into frying pieces with his big bowie knife and he showed his spite by doing a poor job of it. He made rough and careless chops instead of clean cuts.

Moon drank whiskey and whimpered from the pain in his leg. I felt sorry for him. Once he caught me stealing glances at him and he said, "What are you looking at?" It was a foolish question and I made no reply. He said, "Who are you? What are you doing here? What is this girl doing here?"

I said, "I am Mattie Ross of near Dardanelle, Arkansas. Now I will ask you a question. What made you become a stock thief?"

He said again, "What is this girl doing here?"

Rooster said, "She is with me."

"She is with both of us," said LaBoeuf.

Moon said, "It don't look right to me. I don't understand it."

I said, "The man Chaney, the man with the marked face, killed my father. He was a whiskey drinker like you. It led to killing in the end. If you will answer the marshal's questions he will help you. I have a good lawyer at home and he will help you too."

"I am puzzled by this."

Quincy said, "Don't get to jawing with these people, Moon."

I said, "I don't like the way you look."

Quincy stopped his work. He said, "Are you talking to me, runt?"

I said, "Yes, and I will say it again. I don't like the way you look and I don't like the way you are cutting up that turkey. I hope you go to jail. My lawyer will not help you."

Quincy grinned and made a gesture with the knife as though to cut me. He said, "You are a fine one to talk about looks. You look like somebody has worked you over with the ugly stick."

I said, "Rooster, this Quincy is making a mess out of the turkey. He has got the bones all splintered up with the marrow showing."

Rooster said, "Do the job right, Quincy. I will have you eating feathers."

"I don't know nothing about this kind of work," said Quincy.

"A man that can skin a beef at night as fast as you can ought to be able to butcher a turkey," said Rooster.

Moon said, "I got to have me a doctor."

Quincy said, "Let up on that drinking. It is making you silly."

LaBoeuf said, "If we don't separate those two we are not going to get anything. The one has got a hold on the other."

Rooster said, "Moon is coming around. A young fellow like him don't want to lose his leg. He is too young to be getting about on a willow peg. He loves dancing and sport."

"You are trying to get at me," said Moon.

"I am getting at you with the truth," said Rooster.

In a few minutes Moon leaned over to whisper a confidence into Quincy's ear. "None of that," said Rooster, raising his rifle. "If you have anything on your mind we will all hear it."

Moon said, "We seen Ned and Haze just two days ago."

"Don't act the fool!" said Quincy. "If you blow I will kill you."

But Moon went on. "I am played out," said he. "I must have a doctor. I will tell what I know."

With that, Quincy brought the bowie knife down on Moon's cuffed hand and chopped off four fingers which flew up before my eyes like chips from a log. Moon screamed and a rifle ball shattered the lantern in front of me and struck Quincy in the neck, causing hot blood to spurt on my face. My thought was:
I am better out of this.
I tumbled backward from the bench and sought a place of safety on the dirt floor.

Rooster and LaBoeuf sprang to where I lay and when they ascertained that I was not hurt they went to the fallen thieves. Quincy was insensible and dead or dying and Moon was bleeding terribly from his hand and from a mortal puncture in the breast that Quincy gave him before they fell.

"Oh Lord, I am dying!" said he.

Rooster struck a match for light and told me to fetch a pine knot from the fireplace. I found a good long piece and lit it and brought it back, a smoky torch to illuminate a dreadful scene. Rooster removed the handcuff from the poor young man's wrist.

"Do something! Help me!" were his cries.

"I can do nothing for you, son," said Rooster. "Your pard has killed you and I have done for him."

"Don't leave me laying here. Don't let the wolves make an end of me."

"I will see you are buried right, though the ground is hard," said Rooster. "You must tell me about Ned. Where did you see him?"

"We seen him two days ago at McAlester's, him and Haze. They are coming here tonight to get remounts and supper. They are robbing the Katy Flyer at Wagoner's Switch if the snow don't stop them."

"There is four of them?"

"They wanted four horses, that is all I know. Ned was Quincy's friend, not mine. I would not blow on a friend. I was afraid there would be shooting and I would not have a chance bound up like I was. I am bold in a fight."

Rooster said, "Did you see a man with a black mark on his face?"

"I didn't see nobody but Ned and Haze. When it conies to a fight I am right there where it is warmest but if I have time to think on it I am not true. Quincy hated all the laws but he was true to his friends."

"What time did they say they would be here?"

"I looked for them before now. My brother is George Garrett. He is a Methodist circuit rider in south Texas. I want you to sell my traps, Rooster, and send the money to him in care of the district superintendent in Austin. The dun horse is mine, I paid for him. We got them others last night at Mr. Burlingame's."

I said, "Do you want us to tell your brother what happened to you?"

He said, "It don't matter about that. He knows I am on the scout. I will meet him later walking the streets of Glory."

Rooster said, "Don't be looking for Quincy."

"Quincy was always square with me," said Moon. "He never played me false until he killed me. Let me have a drink of cold water."

LaBoeuf brought him some water in a cup. Moon reached for it with the bloody stump and then took it with the other hand. He said, "It feels like I still have fingers there but I don't." He drank deep and it caused him pain. He talked a little more but in a rambling manner and to no sensible purpose. He did not respond to questions. Here is what was in his eyes:
confusion.
Soon it was all up with him and he joined his friend in death. He looked about thirty pounds lighter.

LaBoeuf said, "I told you we should have separated them."

Rooster said nothing to that, not wishing to own he had made a mistake. He went through the pockets of the dead thieves and put such oddments as he found upon the table. The lantern was beyond repair and LaBoeuf brought out a candle from his saddle wallet and lit it and fixed it on the table. Rooster turned up a few coins and cartridges and notes of paper money and a picture of a pretty girl torn from an illustrated paper and pocket knives and a plug of tobacco. He also found a California gold piece in Quincy's vest pocket.

I fairly shouted when I saw it. "That is my father's gold piece!" said I. "Let me have it!"

It was not a round coin but a rectangular slug of gold that was minted in "The Golden State" and was worth thirty-six dollars and some few cents. Rooster said, "I never seen a piece like this before. Are you sure it is the one?" I said, "Yes, Grandfather Spurling gave Papa two of these when he married Mama. That scoundrel Chaney has still got the other one. We are on his trail for certain!"

"We are on Ned's trail anyhow," said Rooster. "I expect it is the same thing. I wonder how Quincy got aholt of this. Is this Chaney a gambler?"

LaBoeuf said, "He likes a game of cards. I reckon Ned has called off the robbery if he is not here by now."

"Well, we won't count on that," said Rooster. "Saddle the horses and I will lug these boys out."

"Do you aim to run?" said LaBoeuf.

Rooster turned a glittering eye on him. "I aim to do what I come out here to do," said he. "Saddle the horses."

Rooster directed me to straighten up the inside of the dugout. He carried the bodies out and concealed them in the woods. I sacked up the turkey fragments and pitched the wrecked lantern into the fireplace and stirred around on the dirt floor with a stick to cover the blood. Rooster was planning an ambush.

When he came back from his second trip to the woods he brought a load of limbs for the fireplace. He built up a big fire so there would be light and smoke and indicate that the cabin was occupied. Then we went out and joined LaBoeuf and the horses in the brush arbor. This dwelling, as I have said, was set back in a hollow where two slopes pinched together in a kind of V. It was a good place for what Rooster had in mind.

He directed LaBoeuf to take his horse and find a position up on the north slope about midway along one stroke of the V, and explained that he would take up a corresponding position on the south slope. Nothing was said about me with regard to the plan and I elected to stay with Rooster.

He said to LaBoeuf, "Find you a good place up yonder and then don't move about. Don't shoot unless you hear me shoot. What we want is to get them all in the dugout. I will kill the last one to go in and then we will have them in a barrel."

"You will shoot him in the back?" asked LaBoeuf.

"It will give them to know our intentions is serious. These ain't chicken thieves. I don't want you to start shooting unless they break. After my first shot I will call down and see if they will be taken alive. If they won't we will shoot them as they come out."

"There is nothing in this plan but a lot of killing," said LaBoeuf. "We want Chelmsford alive, don't we? You are not giving them any show."

"It is no use giving Ned and Haze a show. If they are taken they will hang and they know it. They will go for a fight every time. The others may be chicken-hearted and give up, I don't know. Another thing, we don't know how many there is. I do know there is just two of us."

"Why don't I try to wing Chelmsford before he gets inside?"

"I don't like that," said Rooster. "If there is any shooting before they get in that dugout we are likely to come up with a empty sack. I want Ned too. I want all of them."

"All right," said LaBoeuf. "But if they do break I am going for Chelmsford."

"You are liable to kill him with that big Sharps no matter where you hit him. You go for Ned and I will try to nick this Chaney in the legs."

"What does Ned look like?"

"He is a little fellow. I don't know what he will be riding. He will be doing a lot of talking. Just go for the littlest one."

"What if they hole up in there for a siege? They may figure on staying till dark and then breaking."

"I don't think they will," said Rooster. "Now don't keep on with this. Get on up there. If something queer turns up you will just have to use your head."

"How long will we wait?"

"Till daylight anyhow."

"I don't think they are coming now."

"Well, you may be right. Now move. Keep your eyes open and your horse quiet. Don't go to sleep and don't get the 'jimjams.'"

Rooster took a cedar bough and brushed around over all our tracks in front of the dugout. Then we took our horses and led them up the hill in a roundabout route along a rocky stream bed. We went over the crest and Rooster posted me there with the horses. He told me to talk to them or give them some oats or put my hand over their nostrils if they started blowing or neighing. He put some corn dodgers in his pocket and left to go for his ambush position.