Charles Portis - True Grit

“I saw Billy was dead when he was struck. I thought Haze might have made it. He was tough as boot leather. I am sorry for him.”

“Are you not sorry for the boy Billy?”

“He should never have been there. There was nothing I could do for him.”

“How did you know he was dead?”

“I could tell. I advised him against coming, and then give in to him against what I knowed was best. Where did you take them?”

“To McAlester’s store.”

“I will tell you what he did at Wagoner’s Switch.”

“My lawyer has political influence.”

“This will amuse you. I posted him with the horses out of danger and told him to fire a string of shots with his rifle now and then. You must have shooting for the way it keeps the passengers in their seats. Well, he started out all right and then as the job went along I noticed the shots had stopped. I figured Billy Boy had run for home and a plate of mother’s soup. Bob went to see about him and he found the boy standing out there in the dark shucking good shells out of his guns. He thought he was shooting but he was so scared he could not remember to pull the trigger. That was how green he was, green as a July persimmon.”

I said, “You do not show much kindly feeling for a young man who saved your life.”

“I am happy he done it,” said Lucky Ned Pepper. “I don’t say he wan’t game, I say he was green. All kids is game, but a man will keep his head and look out for his own self. Look at old Haze. Well, he is dead now but he should have been dead ten times afore now. Yes, and your good friend Rooster. That goes for him as well.”

“He is not my friend.”

Farrell Permalee made a whooping noise like that of his brother and said, “There they be!”

I looked over to the northwest and saw two riders approaching the top of the ridge. Little Blackie, riderless, was tied behind them. Lucky Ned Pepper brought his glass into play but I could see them well enough without such aid. When they reached the crest they paused and turned our way and Rooster fired a pistol in the air. I saw the smoke before the noise reached us. Lucky Ned Pepper pulled his revolver and fired an answering shot. Then Rooster and LaBoeuf disappeared over the hill. The last thing I saw was Little Blackie.

I think it did not come home to me until that moment what my situation was. I had not thought Rooster or LaBoeuf would give in to the bandits so easily. It was in my mind that they would slip up through the brush and attack the bandits while they were disorganized, or employ some clever ruse known only by detectives to bring the bandits to heel. Now they were gone! The officers had left me! I was utterly cast down and for the first time I feared for my life. My mind was filled with anxiety.

Who was to blame? Deputy Marshal Rooster Cogburn! The gabbing drunken fool had made a mistake of four miles and led us directly into the robbers’ lair. A keen detective! Yes, and in an earlier state of drunkenness he had placed faulty caps in my revolver, causing it to fail me in a time of need. That was not enough; now he had abandoned me in this howling wilderness to a gang of cutthroats who cared not a rap for the blood of their own companions, and how much less for that of a helpless and unwanted youngster! Was this what they called grit in Fort Smith? We called it something else in Yell County!

Lucky Ned Pepper shouted out for The Original Greaser and Harold Permalee to leave their watch post and come to the camp. The four horses were saddled and in readiness. Lucky Ned Pepper looked over the mounts, then at the spare saddle that lay on the ground. It was an old saddle but a handsome one, decorated with fixtures of beaten silver.

He said, “That is Bob’s saddle.”

Tom Chaney said, “It was Bob’s horse we lost.”

“That you lost,” said the bandit chieftain. “Unsaddle that gray and put Bob’s saddle up.”

“I am riding the gray,” said Chaney.

“I have other plans for you.”

Chaney set about unsaddling the gray horse. He said, “I will be riding behind Bob?”

“No, it will be too chancy with two men up if it comes to a race. When we reach Ma’s house I will send Carroll back to fetch you with a fresh mount. I want you to wait here with the girl. You will be out by dark. We are going to ‘The Old Place’ and you can meet us there.”

“Well, I don’t like that,” said Chaney. “Let me ride with you, Ned, just out of here anyway.”

“No.”

“Them marshals will be up here.”

“They will guess we are all gone.”

I said, “I am not staying here by myself with Tom Chaney.”

Lucky Ned Pepper said, “That is the way I will have it.”

“He will kill me,” said I. “You have heard him say it. He has killed my father and now you will let him kill me.”

“He will do no such thing,” said the bandit chieftain. “Tom, do you know the crossing at Cypress Forks, near the log meetinghouse?”

“I know the place.”

“You will take the girl there and leave her.”

Then to me, “You can stay the night in the meetinghouse. There is a dummy called Flanagan lives about two miles up the creek. He has a mule and he will see you to McAlester’s. He cannot speak or hear but he can read. Can you write?”

“Yes,” said I. “Let me go now on foot. I will find my way out.”

“No, I won’t have it. Tom will not harm you. Do you understand that, Tom? If any harm comes to this child you do not get paid.”

Chaney said, “Farrell, let me ride up with you.”

Farrell Permalee laughed and made noises like an owl, saying, “Hoo, hoo, hoo.” Harold Permalee and The Original Greaser Bob came up and Chaney commenced to plead with them to share their mounts. Greaser Bob said no. The Permalee brothers now teamed together like silly boys, and would give Chaney no sensible answer. Harold Permalee would interrupt Chaney’s question each time with mockery, making animal sounds such as are made by pigs and goats and sheep, and Farrell would laugh at the sport and say, “Do it again, Harold. Do a goat.”

Chaney said, “Everything is against me.”

Lucky Ned Pepper made sure the buckles were fastened good on his saddle wallets.

Greaser Bob said, “Ned, let us cut up the winnings now.”

“There will be time for that at ‘The Old Place,’” replied the bandit chieftain.

“We have been in two scraps already,” said The Greaser. “We have lost two men. I would feel easier if I was carrying my own winnings.”

Lucky Ned Pepper said, “Well, Bob, I thought your interest was in saving time.”

“It will not take long. I will feel easier.”

“Very well then. It suits me. I want you to feel easy.”

He reached inside one of the saddle wallets and pulled out four packets of greenbacks and pitched them to Greaser Bob. “How is that?”

Greaser Bob said, “You will not count it?”

“We won’t quarrel over a dollar or two.” Then he gave one packet to Harold Permalee and a single $50 note to Farrell Permalee. The brothers said, “Whooooo-haaaaa! Whooooo-haaaaa!” I wondered that they did not press for more, in light of the total amount realized in the robbery, but I supposed they had agreed to a fixed wage for their services. I judged too that they were somewhat ignorant of the value of money.

Lucky Ned Pepper went to buckle up the wallet again. He said, “I will keep your winnings with mine, Tom. You will be paid tonight at ‘The Old Place.’”

Chaney said, “Nothing is going right for me.”

Greaser Bob said, “What about the registered pouch?”

“Well, and what about it?” said Lucky Ned Pepper. “Are you expecting a letter, Bob?”

“If there is any money in it we may as well have it now. It makes no sense to carry the pouch about for evidence.”