Charles Portis - True Grit

I said, “What are they?”

Rooster said, “This one is a forty-four rim-fire from a Henry rifle.”

Thus we had another clue. But we did not have Chaney. We had not even set eyes on him to know it. We took a hasty breakfast of the Indian hominy dish and departed the place.

It was only an hour’s ride to the Texas Road. We made quite a caravan. If you had chanced to be riding up the Texas Road on that bright December morning you would have met two red-eyed peace officers and a sleepy youth from near Dardanelle, Arkansas, riding south at a walk and leading seven horses. Had you looked closely you would have seen that four of those horses were draped over with the corpses of armed robbers and stock thieves. We did in fact meet several travelers and they marveled and wondered at our grisly cargo.

Some of them had already heard news of the train robbery. One man, an Indian, told us that the robbers had realized $17,000 in cash from the express car. Two men in a buggy told us their information put the figure at $70,000. A great difference!

The accounts did agree roughly on the circumstances of the robbery. Here is what happened. The bandits broke the switch lock at Wagoner’s Switch and forced the train onto a cattle siding. There they took the engineer and the fireman as hostages and threatened to kill them if the express clerk did not open the doors of his car. The clerk had spunk and refused to open the doors. The robbers killed the fireman. But the clerk still held fast. The robbers then blasted the door open with dynamite and the clerk was killed in the explosion. More dynamite was used to open the safe. While this was going on two bandits were walking through the coaches with cocked revolvers gathering up “booty” from the passengers. One man in a sleeping car protested the outrage and was assaulted and cut on the head with a pistol barrel. He was the only one they bothered except for the fireman and the express clerk. The bandits wore their hats low and had handkerchiefs tied over their faces but Lucky Ned Pepper was recognized by way of his small size and commanding manner. None of the others was identified. And that is how they robbed the Katy Flyer at Wagoner’s Switch.

The riding was easy on the Texas Road. It was broad and had a good packed surface as Rooster had described it. The sun was out and the snow melted fast under the warm and welcome rays of “Old Sol.”

As we rode along LaBoeuf commenced whistling tunes, perhaps to take his mind off his sore arm. Rooster said, “God damn a man that whistles!” It was the wrong thing to say if he wished it to stop. LaBoeuf then had to keep it up to show that he cared little for Rooster’s opinion. After a while he took a Jew’s harp from his pocket. He began to thump and twang upon it. He played fiddle tunes. He would announce, “Soldier’s Joy,” and play that. Then, “Johnny in the Low Ground,” and play that. Then, “The Eighth of January,” and play that. They all sounded pretty much like the same song. LaBoeuf said, “Is there anything you would particularly like to hear, Cogburn?” He was trying to get his “goat.” Rooster gave no answer. LaBoeuf then played a few minstrel tunes and put the peculiar instrument away.

In a few minutes he asked Rooster this question, indicating the big revolvers in the saddle scabbards: “Did you carry those in the war?”

Rooster said, “I have had them a good long time.”

LaBoeuf said, “I suppose you were with the cavalry.”

Rooster said, “I forget just what they called it.”

“I wanted to be cavalryman,” said LaBoeuf, “but I was too young and didn’t own a horse. I have always regretted it. I went in the army on my fifteenth birthday and saw the last six months of the war. My mother cried because my brothers had not been home in three years. They were off at the first tap of a drum. The army put me in the supply department and I counted beeves and sacked oats for General Kirby-Smith at Shreveport. It was no work for a soldier. I wanted to get out of the Trans-Mississippi Department and go east. I wanted to see some real fighting. Right toward the last I got an opportunity to travel up there with a commissary officer, Major Burks, who was being transferred to the Department of Virginia. There were twenty-five in our party and we got there in time for Five Forks and Petersburg and then it was all over. I have always regretted that I did not get to ride with Stuart or Forrest or some of the others. Shelby and Early.”

Rooster said nothing.

I said, “It looks like six months would be enough for you.”

LaBoeuf said, “No, it sounds boastful and foolish but it was not. I was almost sick when I heard of the surrender.”

I said, “My father said he sure was glad to get home. He nearly died on the way.”

LaBoeuf then said to Rooster, “It is hard to believe a man cannot remember where he served in the war. Do you not even remember your regiment?”

Rooster said, “I think they called it the bullet department. I was in it four years.”

“You do not think much of me, do you, Cogburn?”

“I don’t think about you at all when your mouth is closed.”

“You are making a mistake about me.”

“I don’t like this kind of talk. It is like women talking.”

“I was told in Fort Smith that you rode with Quantrill and that border gang.”

Rooster made no reply.

LaBoeuf said, “I have heard they were not soldiers at all but murdering thieves.”

Rooster said, “I have heard the same thing.”

“I heard they murdered women and children at Lawrence, Kansas.”

“I have heard that too. It is a damned lie.”

“Were you there?”

“Where?”

“The Lawrence raid.”

“There has been a lot of lies told about that.”

“Do you deny they shot down soldiers and civilians alike and burned the town?”

“We missed Jim Lane. What army was you in, mister?”

“I was at Shreveport first with Kirby-Smith—”

“Yes, I heard about all them departments. What side was you on?”

“I was in the Army of Northern Virginia, Cogburn, and I don’t have to hang my head when I say it. Now make another joke about it. You are only trying to put on a show for this girl Mattie with what you must think is a keen tongue.”

“This is like women talking.”

“Yes, that is the way. Make me out foolish in this girl’s eyes.”

“I think she has got you pretty well figured.”

“You are making a mistake about me, Cogburn, and I do not appreciate the way you make conversation.”

“That is nothing for you to worry about. That nor Captain Quantrill either.”

“ Captain Quantrill!”

“You had best let this go, LaBoeuf.”

“Captain of what?”

“If you are looking for a fight I will accommodate you. If you are not you will let this alone.”

“ Captain Quantrill indeed!”

I rode up between them and said, “I have been thinking about something. Listen to this. There were six bandits and two stock thieves and yet only six horses at the dugout. What is the answer to that?”

Rooster said, “Six horses was all they needed.”

I said, “Yes, but that six includes the horses belonging to Moon and Quincy. There were only four stolen horses.”

Rooster said, “They would have taken them other two as well and exchanged them later. They have done it before.”

“Then what would Moon and Quincy do for mounts?”

“They would have the six tired horses.”

“Oh. I had forgotten about them.”

“It was only a swap for a few days.”

“I was thinking that Lucky Ned Pepper might have been planning to murder the two stock thieves. It would have been a treacherous scheme but then they could not inform against him. What do you think?”