Incident at Twenty-Mile Page 18

  "Right. But of course they'll never get it. Not with sixty miners coming in on the train, most of them armed."

  "Ah, but these men don't know about the miners."

  "They do know. I told them."

  "You told them?"

  "Yes. I was trying to persuade them that it was no use their staying in Twenty-Mile. But there's no reasoning with them. They're insane."

  Mr. Kane recalled Lieder's pale, suddenly empty eyes when he asked about his accent. "Yes, all right, let's assume they're insane. What does that mean we should- What's that? What's going on?"

  From the hotel across the street came male voices singing "Rock of Ages" in a hesitant, lurching way. But the voices strengthened as they repeated the first verse, then repeated it again, and again… stronger each time.

  With the first note, B. J. had lifted his hand for silence as he leaned toward the sound. "That's funny. There's four-no, five men's voices. Who's over there with them?"

  "The Bjorkvists," Mr. Kane told him. "And maybe others." He went on to say that he had seen two of the strangers pushing Mr. Bjorkvist and Oskar ahead of them up to the hotel. Their faces looked as though they'd been beaten.

  Matthew nodded, wanting to lend support to this version of what had happened, without revealing that he'd been speaking to Kersti.

  "But, why did they want them at the hotel?" B. J. wondered aloud. "And why in God's name are they singing?"

  "I don't know," Mr. Kane said. "Maybe they're drunk. Or maybe…" His hands flapped.

  The hymn abruptly stopped. Then came loud applause.

  "Is it possible they're being forced to sing?" B. J. asked. "That leader has a twisted sense of humor."

  Mr. Kane digested this in silence before saying, "It seems to me there are two possibilities open to us. We can either sit tight and hope things blow over, or we can embark on some kind of action. The risks involved with each course are obvious. The benefits… not so obvious."

  From the hotel came a gush of player-piano notes: a syrupy ballad, its long dragged-out notes sustained by octave-wide trilling. Matthew half-knew the song: something about a girl in a cage. The male voices were joined by a wobbly soprano. "That's Queeny," Matthew said. And when the others looked at him questioningly, he added, "She… ah… she used to be in show business."

  B. J. turned to Mr. Kane. "I don't think we have the option of sitting tight and doing nothing. It's our bad luck that they came just after the miners went back up to the Lode. That means we'd have to hold out for six whole days."

  "Too long," Mr. Kane agreed. "Much too long. So what do you suggest?"

  "Well, I've concocted half a dozen plans, but they all come down to the same thing in the end. We have to band together to protect ourselves. And particularly to protect…" His lit eye disappeared as he glanced over at Ruth Lillian.

  Mr. Kane nodded.

  A burst of ribald laughter came from the hotel, and the player piano began "She's Only a Bird in a Gilded Cage" again, this time without the singing.

  B. J. continued. "One possibility would be to barricade ourselves here in the Mercantile, or we could — "

  "Why in here?" Mr. Kane asked.

  "Because there's food here. And the gun you keep in case of robbers."

  "Food yes. But no gun. I used to keep one behind the counter, but no longer. To tell you the truth, I'm afraid of them."

  A long sigh escaped B. J. "Well, I'll admit that's a blow. I naturally assumed you had a gun under the counter or somewhere."

  There was a flutter of laughter from across the street. Someone whistled a piercing note between his teeth. The player piano continued grinding out the soupy ballad.

  "Well, maybe it's just as well that we don't try to hold out here, after all," B. J. said. "That would only draw their attention toward the Mercantile when-thank God-they don't yet know that Ruth Lillian exists. That leaves us only one way to go. We'll have to get the men of the town together and drive them out."

  "Kill them, you mean?"

  "Mr. Kane, I'm not a violent man. And my pacifist principles are reinforced by a generous portion of cowardliness. But when you're dealing with men like that…"

  "But if we face them down, we're the ones likely to get shot. After all, they have all the guns."

  "Not all the guns. The Bjorkvists have hunting rifles, and if they join us, we can-"

  "No, sir," Matthew interrupted. "The Bjorkvists don't have any guns. Those men came and took them. And they beat up Mr. Bjorkvist and Oskar. Bashed their faces together and broke their noses."

  "How do you know this?"

  "I snuck over to talk to… them." His eyes flicked to Ruth Lillian and back. "I was trying to find out what was happening. After getting beat up so bad, the Bjorkvists wouldn't dare do anything to make those men mad."

  "I see. " There was a silence during which Matthew could hear the squeak-squirt of B. J. Stone swallowing. "Well…!" He sucked at his teeth. Then: "All right. But that still leaves the people over at the Traveller's Welcome. Now, I know for a fact that Jeff Calder has his Civil War rifle. He waves it around when he's drunk and yammering on about what a hero he was. And surely Delanny packs some kind of gambler's weapon, a derringer, or a pepperbox. That's two guns. And it's possible that- What is it? What's wrong?"

  Mr. Kane was shaking his head. "What makes you believe they haven't taken Calder's and Delanny's weapons as well? And even if they haven't, what chance do you think a consumptive gambler and a one-legged old man would have against three insane killers armed to the teeth? I don't mean to belittle your-"

  The player piano came to the end of its ballad with a climax of two-fisted chords, then a woman's voice snarled out a string of abuse the vituperous intent of which could not be mistaken, even if the words were smeared by her whiskey-thick tongue.

  A harsh laugh.

  A scream and a crash of glass that made the four sitting in the Mercantile catch their breaths.

  The doors of the bar flapped against the sides of the hotel.

  Mr. Kane crossed to the window and looked obliquely down the street to where lamplight spilled from the door of the Traveller's Welcome. "My God, she's…" He returned to the table and sat heavily. "They've stripped her naked and thrown her out into the street."

  "Who?"

  "The old one."

  "Queeny?"

  Mr. Kane nodded.

  From within the hotel the music-roll ballad began again, and the drunken voices rose… for her love was so-o-o-old, for an o-o-old man's go-o-o-old…

  After a silence, Matthew felt he should try to take their minds off Queeny lying out there, naked. "Ah… Mr. Lieder came to see me over to the marshal's office a couple of hours ago."

  "What did he want?" B. J. asked.

  "He was looking for guns. He talked a lot, but I couldn't tell when he was joking and when he wasn't. He said I reminded him of himself when he was a kid. And he asked if I wanted to become one of his gang. He said something about me being his sword and his shield and his apostle-you know how he talks."

  "And what did you say to him?"

  "I didn't know what to say. I just sort of played dumb."

  "That's good," Mr. Kane said. "If he's taken a liking to you, maybe he'll take you into his confidence, and we'll know what they're planning to-"

  They all jumped convulsively at the sound of a gunshot from the hotel.

  B. J. went to the window and peered down the street.

  "What is it?" Mr. Kane hissed.

  "She's all right. I was afraid they'd… But she's still there on the steps, her head hanging between her legs. Dead drunk, from the look of her." Then, in an optimistic tone meant for Ruth Lillian: "Chances are they were just shooting into the air. You know… making noise just for the sake of making noise."

  Mr. Kane rubbed his fingertips across his forehead and closed his eyes. Then he said quietly, "What about poison?"

  "Poison?" B. J. asked. "How would we poison them?"

  "I don't know! The possibil
ity just came to me. Matthew here will be making their breakfast tomorrow. Maybe… I don't know… something in the coffee or…?"

  "But, Pa!" Ruth Lillian said. "That'd kill everyone. Mr. Delanny. The girls. Everyone!"

  "But we've got to do something!" Mr. Kane stood up, knocking the table with his knee. "We can't just sit here while they-!" He grunted and grasped his left arm as though to pinch off the pain that swelled in his chest and streaked down to the elbow.

  "Pa!"

  "It's all right," he said between clenched teeth as he slumped back into his chair. "It's only…"

  Ruth Lillian took her father's hand, and Matthew saw her slim fingers crumple under the strength of his grip. He knew it must hurt to have her knuckles crunched together like that, but she didn't make a sound.

  Mr. Kane gasped twice, each time emitting a little chirp of nasal sound as he drew himself up tight in an effort to stay above the chest pain. Finally he let out a long wheezing sigh… gingerly, as if he were testing for a final stab of pain. Then… "It's passed," he whispered. "Thank God."

  "You're all right?" B. J. Stone asked.

  "Yes. Yes, I'm fine now. I'm… sorry." He released Ruth Lillian's hand and patted it, as though to soothe any pain he might have inflicted.

  After a silence, B. J. said, "Well, at least there's one thing in our favor."

  "Tell me," Mr. Kane said, forcing a smile. "I could use a little good news just now."

  "They don't know about Coots. When they came, he was off bringing a string of donkeys up to the Lode. I expect him back early tomorrow morning."

  "Does he have a gun, Coots?"

  "Yes. He always carries his old flat-top Colt when he's on the trail. He's afraid of snakes. It's about the only thing in this world Coots is afraid of."

  "So that's two things in our favor," Mr. Kane said. "We have Matthew on the inside… more or less. And tomorrow morning Coots will be coming back, and we'll have an armed man they don't even know about."

  "They don't know about me either," Ruth Lillian said.

  "Yes, and that's how we're going to keep it," her father responded sternly.

  "But wait a minute!" Matthew said. "What if they see Coots coming down the trail? I mean, he doesn't know what's going on. He's got no reason to sneak into town."

  "You're right," B. J. said, his stomach sinking at the realization that he had overlooked something so important. "I'll have to go up-trail before dawn and let him know what's going on."

  "And if those men come looking for you and you're not at the Livery?" Mr. Kane asked.

  "I'll go warn Coots," Ruth Lillian said simply.

  "You'll do nothing of the-!"

  "But, Pa! Who else can go? You've got to stay here in case they want something from the store. Matthew will be over making breakfast. And you just said Mr. Stone mustn't be away from the Livery."

  "Listen to me. You are not leaving this-"

  "She's right, you know," B. J. interrupted. "She could sneak out first thing in the morning and go up-trail to meet Coots. If I keep a lookout through my back window, I'll see them coming around Shinbone Cut about a quarter of an hour before they get to the meadow. " B. J. had often watched for Coots's return so he could have a hot cup of coffee ready for him. "When they get down, they can slip — "

  "I am not going to let my daughter run the risk of being caught by those-"

  "Mr. Kane?" B. J. interrupted again. "Ruth Lillian is a smart girl. She won't take any foolish-"

  "No," Mr. Kane said with finality. "No."

  "Sir?" Matthew said. "What about if Ruth Lillian sneaks real careful behind the buildings and goes up to the Livery before dawn? Then at first light she could start up the trail, and when she meets Coots, she warns him to make his way down as quiet as he can. Then she could-"

  "I will not have-"

  "No, just a minute, sir. Then she could go on up the trail to the Surprise Lode, and she could tell the miners what's going on down here. That way she'd be out of town and safe, and Coots would be warned, and-"

  "— and the miners could come down and surprise those men!" B. J. continued. "They could arm themselves to the teeth and take the train most of the way, then come the last mile or so down the track on foot, quietly… at night, maybe. That's it!"

  Mr. Kane could see that this plan made sense, but he was still reluctant to let Ruth Lillian run any risk. "Are you sure she can make it up the trail? I've never been higher than Twenty-Mile myself."

  "It's steep and rough," B. J. admitted. "And when it rains it gets pretty treacherous. But so long as it's dry, she can make it." He turned to her. "You'll just have to take it easy. Don't push yourself. Expect to take a good nine, maybe ten hours getting up to the lode. Until the miners arrive, it'll be our job to make sure we don't give those madmen any reason to start hurting people. Well? Do you agree, Mr. Kane?"

  Ruth Lillian touched her father's arm. After a brief internal struggle, he closed his eyes and nodded. "Yes, yes, anything that gets her out of town."

  "Good," B. J. said. "Then tomorrow morning, after I see Ruth Lillian off up the trail, I'll keep a sharp lookout. And when I see Coots come around Shinbone Cut, I'll go over to the hotel and have a few words with the boss. I'll tell him he hasn't got a chance of getting the silver, and I'll say that-hell, I don't know what I'll say. I'll just make it up as I go along. But one way or another I'll make a diversion to give Coots a chance to get down to the Livery unnoticed. So! That's it. Now I guess we'd all better get some sleep. Make sure you wear something warm and rough tomorrow morning, young lady. Matthew? You'll have to do something about Queeny."

  "Me? Ah… do what?"

  "Well, we can't leave the poor old thing sitting out there, naked. Bring her to your place."

  "But, I-"

  "Ruth Lillian, can you find something for Matthew to put around her?"

  "Sure." She took a Hudson Bay blanket down from the shelf. "Will this do?"

  "That'll do fine," B. J. said. "Well, then!" He pushed his chair back. "Is there anything else we should talk about, Mr. Kane?"

  "No, I think that's about it," Mr. Kane said. "And I don't mind telling you that I feel much, much more assured than I did a while ago."

  Aware that Mr. Kane's false confidence was for Ruth Lillian's benefit, B. J. reached up and gripped the girl's forearm. "Are you all right?"

  "Sure." But she had been shivering involuntarily.

  "Not too scared?"

  "No, sir. I'd say I was scared just about the right amount," she said with a faint smile. Then, more seriously, "Don't worry about me, Mr. Stone. I'll do what has to be done."

  "There you go! Now, Matthew? You'd better get back to the marshal's office."

  "But what about Queeny?"

  "You should walk across to her from your place. I don't want you seen coming from here."

  "Oh, I see. Sure."

  "You'd better go to bed now," Mr. Kane said to his daughter.

  "I won't be able to sleep."

  "Maybe not, but you can keep out of sight."

  "But, Pa…"

  "Ruth Lillian!"

  "… All right, Pa."

  "Now you two get going," B. J. said.

  At the foot of the stairs, Ruth Lillian gave Matthew the blanket. In reaching for it, he found her hand and pressed it briefly. Then he left.

  The two old men sat in the darkness, drained and sour-stomached, the aftermath of prolonged emotional tension. When Mr. Kane spoke, his voice was husky. "Do you really think we have a chance?"

  "Oh, sure!"

  "Hm-m. And even if you didn't think so, you'd pretend you did."

  "Yes."

  Mr. Kane nodded. "We're asking a lot of young Matthew. Giving him the dangerous task of spying on them."

  "He's a bright kid."

  "Oh, yes, he's bright. But there's something…" Mr. Kane lifted his shoulders and shook his head.

  B. J. recalled the graphic description in that two-month-old Nebraska Plainsman. How much emotional elasticity c
ould a boy have left, after finding his parents… like that? He considered offering Matthew a chance to talk about what had happened. But what if making him remember unraveled the fabric of forgetfulness and fantasy that was holding the boy together? Well, he was too tired to make an intelligent decision tonight. He really should get back to the Livery and- But Mr. Kane began speaking quietly into the dark, his gaze focused on the moon-glossed surface of his battered worktable.

  "I told you I got rid of the gun I used to keep behind the counter because guns frighten me. Well, that's true, but also… " He shrugged, then he lightly rubbed his fingertips over the edge of the table worn smooth by years of doing his accounts there. B. J. sat patiently until Mr. Kane continued, "I was working. Right here at this table. It was late at night, and my wife was out visiting a sick friend. Oh, I knew there was no sick friend, but…" He puffed out a long sigh between slack lips. "I sat here with my account book open, trying to keep my mind occupied… trying not to imagine her… well! Then I heard him walking up the steps to the porch. The footsteps of a strong, confident man. You remember our town marshal?"

  "Yes."

  "A strong, confident man. Well, he came in and tossed his badge onto this table, and he said the town could have the job back. I didn't look up at him. He told me he was leaving because Twenty-Mile was a dying town. Then he added-almost incidentally-that he'd be taking my wife with him. Do you remember my wife, Mr. Stone?"

  "Yes."

  "A beautiful woman."

  "Yes. Beautiful."

  "Much too young for me, of course, but… beautiful. Ruth Lillian is so much like her. Well, after he left, I sat for hours, here at this table. In my hand was the pistol I kept to scare robbers off. I had always thought I could never actually kill a living human being, but that night… that night I came within minutes of taking a life. If my little girl hadn't cried out in her sleep… if I hadn't considered what might become of her, alone in a place like Twenty-Mile… So I eased the hammer back down, and I got up and walked out into the night. It was almost dawn, still and cold, and I…" He compressed his lips and shook himself. "I walked across the railroad tracks to the edge of the cliff, and I… I threw that pistol as far as I could! You see, Mr. Stone, getting rid of the gun was the only way I could be sure my daughter wouldn't become an orphan the first night I felt swamped by loneliness and depression." He looked up and smiled thinly. "Since that time, the Twenty-Mile Mercantile Emporium has not stocked guns. Not because I have any high-minded objection to violence. But only because, like I said, I'm afraid of them."