King Blood (16 page)

'Hope I didn't mess up nothin' by doin' that,' the foreman said anxiously, nodding towards the canvas. 'But one foot was startin' to poke out, an' I figured – '

'You did the right thing,' Marshal Thompson assured him. 'Now, you say you made the discovery about seven last night?'

'Yessir. After the men had put in their hours. I was back-checkin' on a day's work… I always do that, Mr. Hardcastle' – a glance at the division superintendent, who nodded approvingly. 'I was coasting along slow, and there was still a little sunlight, so off in the weeds there I get the glint of something bright. O' course, I figure that one of my damn fool hands has left a tool behind… I always watch out for tools, Mr. Hardcastle. I know tools are expensive, an' – '

'So is time,' Marshal Thompson said drily. 'Suppose we use no more of it than we have to. Satisfactory?'

'Well – well, sure. I mean, yes, sir.'

'Thank
you.
I gather then that you were alone when you discovered the body, correct? And you have told no one else about it. Very well, then. That leaves us but one thing to do, at the moment. A rather unpleasant chore. Gentlemen, if you will don your gloves and give me your assistance…'

…The body was rolled into the tarpaulin, placed on the handcar and transported back to the starting point of the morning's expedition. They loaded it into the coffin that was waiting for it on the evening's west-bound train, and the marshal and his deputy nephew took the same train back to El Reno.

Deputy Thompson had a number of questions and suggestions for Marshal Thompson as they rode through the night. Marshal Thompson, after a considerable silence, had a single suggestion for Deputy Thompson: to shut up or leave their stateroom.

The young man promptly stood up. 'Sorry,' he said stiffly. 'I didn't mean to offend you.'

'Oh, sit down, sit down,' sighed his uncle. 'Don't be so quick to get on your high horse, Jim. If you want to continue in public office, you'll have to remember two things. Touchiness is a luxury you can never afford; that's number one. Secondly, you'll never make yourself popular by telling a man something he already knows, and asking him questions he can't answer.'

'I didn't realize I was doing that. Not that I look upon myself as a participant in a popularity contest.'

'But you
are,
Jim. You most certainly are. I'm both judge and audience in the contest, and the moment you cease to be popular with me, I declare you disqualified.' He gave his nephew a lengthy look, his dark eyes gradually becoming thoughtful. 'I'm joking, of course, Jim; no one, relative or not, has to cozy up to me to hold his job. In fact, it would be the quickest way he could lose it. But I do think it's time you were moving on to something else – something better.'

Deputy Thompson gave his uncle a steady stare; at last, turned it toward the window and the dark panorama beyond. There was the clangor of bells, a blur of red and white lights as they rattled through a crossing. The engine whistled eerily, fearfully, as its headlights swept the prairie and found nothing but emptiness.

'I'm thirty years old, Uncle Harry. I don't have much time left to start carving out a career…'

'How true,' his uncle said solemnly. 'In another year or so you'll be tripping over your long gray beard. Wait, now, wait!' he laughed, holding up a hand. 'I mean to see you started on a career, Jim. I mean to do just that. So if you'll stop getting huffy, and listen…'

The Territory had been first thrown open to settlement in 1889, he pointed out. (The Territory, as opposed to Old Oklahoma, on the east, which had been moved into some fifty years before by the Five Civilized tribes.) But Deputy James Sherman Thompson had actually seen very little of it, his movements being limited by his job, and that little had become so heavily populated – relatively speaking – as to limit opportunities for a bright young man. Such a man could do well to hie himself elsewhere, to the Big Pasture country, or the Unassigned lands, or one of the other areas recently opened to settlement or soon to be opened.

'Now, the spot I have in mind for you, Jim, is down in the Kiowa-Caddo-Comanche country. I can line up a number of people who will help you there, and with your experience as a deputy marshal and your ability to make friends – How the hell do you make them anyway, Jim? I'm always amazed that anyone as stiff-necked and opinionated as you could have even one friend.'

Deputy Thompson denied that he was either stiff-necked or opinionated. He did, however, have certain beliefs, and he could not, in all honesty, refrain from letting them be known to those who – having lacked his advantages – might hold contrary and erroneous views.

'As for making friends, I suppose it's simply a matter of liking people. I've met very few men that I couldn't find some good in; something that I could honestly like. I like them well enough to remember their names, and the names of their wives and children, and – '

'And,' the marshal nodded his understanding, 'that's all you need to do, to shine the light of recognition upon a world of strangers. I doubt that there lives a man with soul so dead that he doesn't pray for deliverance from anonymity.'

His nephew's blue eyes lighted up with appreciation; he threw back his head and laughed, a laugh so utterly ingenuous and wholesomely good-humored as to warm the marshal's pragmatist's heart.

'Jim,' he said. 'Dammit all, Jim…!'

'Yes, sir?'

Marshal Thompson hesitated, started to speak, shook his head. After a time, he said, 'Getting back to the subject of the Kiowa-Caddo-Comanche country, I think the sooner you're down there the better. My friends will give you all possible assistance. With their help, your peace officer's experience and your talent for making friends, you should be a shoo-in for sheriff when the county government is set up.'

'Sheriff?' His nephew was disappointed. 'I'm qualified to practise law. Why not county attorney?'

'Two reasons. You're qualified to practise law, but you've never practised. And an experienced and popular young lawyer, Al Jennings, wants the job.'

'Oh,' said the deputy flatly. 'Oh.'

'You don't like Al? Too many freckles for you?'

Deputy Thompson frowned, brushing the jest aside. 'I can't trust him somehow. He seems, well, too personally involved with his clients. Too intrigued with them. You can't spend much time with him without his talking about how smart such and such a criminal is, or how much "easy money" he got away with.'

'Mmm. So?'

'Well… I mean, look at it this way. We both know former outlaws, men who held up banks and robbed trains, who became peace officers. It seems possible, then, that a peace officer – a county attorney – could turn outlaw. Be a bank-robber or hold-up man.'

'A grim prospect for Al,' Marshal Thompson said gravely. 'But a unique experience for you. You'll be about the first sheriff in history to arrest his county attorney.'

Young Thompson grinned half-heartedly. Murmured that the unhappy precedent could be avoided if he became county judge, instead of sheriff. His uncle advised him that the judgeship was already nailed down by a mutual friend who was also an experienced jurist. The deputy expressed dismay.

'He's just not qualified, Uncle Harry. I don't know how he's managed to stay on the bench this long. Why, I've repeatedly heard him advise juries that a reasonable doubt is a doubt you can give a reason for!'

'Well? What's wrong with that?'

'He'll find out if he ever comes up against a truly gifted attorney. Someone like Temple Houston. It's a reversible error. Anyone ever convicted in his court will get a new trial for the asking.'

The marshal grunted noncommittally; then, his memory stirred, he chuckled, stating that nothing which Temple Houston could do would greatly surprise him.

'I remember a case of his years ago. A dance-hall chippy who'd swindled a bank for practically all its assets. Well, the evidence was all against her; Temple hardly bothered to put on a defense. But, of course, he hadn't thrown in the towel. Ordinarily, this woman dressed to show everything north and south of her navel, but Temple kept her dressed in a sunbonnet and an old mother-hubbard. And when it came time for his summation to the jury, well,' Thompson laughed, 'I wish you could have been there, Jim. I can't remember everything he said, only the concluding words as he pointed from this chippy to the witnesses for the prosecution. "Who are you going to believe, gentlemen of the jury? I ask you, who are you going to believe – this poor old woman, who stands on the crumbling precipice of eternity, or that blood-sucking octopus with its tentacles in Wall Street and its teeth in the throat of our tortured citizenry – _The First Territorial Bank of Pumpkin Wells, Oklahoma!"_ The jury brought in a not guilty verdict without leaving the box.'

Deputy Thompson chuckled appreciatively. The marshal recalled another Temple Houston incident.

'It was late in the afternoon, and Temple had been looking pretty wan all day. Right in the middle of cross-examining a witness, he turned to the judge and asked for a thirty-minute adjournment. His honor naturally wanted to know the reason for the request. Temple said it was to preserve the dignity of the court. "I have such a terrible hangover, sir, that only a few quick drinks will save me from flying apart, creating such an unholy mess in these hallowed precincts that even the Blind Goddess must become aware of it, and, lifting her robes, flee in terror."

'Well, his honor pursed his lips judiciously, and glanced at the county attorney. "What say the people?" he asked.

'"May it please the court," the prosecutor said, "the people's concern for the dignity of the court is second only to our sympathy and admiration for our illustrious opponent-at-law. We will be happy to concur in his request for a recess, and even happier to join him for a drink."

'"So will I," the judge said. "Adjournment granted." The three of them went across to the saloon together, and – '

'Uncle Harry,' said Deputy Thompson, _'Uncle Harry.'_

'… and then they – Well, what is it?' Marshal Thompson frowned grumpily. 'You interrupted a very good story.'

'I'm sorry. I just wanted to say that I'll be very happy to take the job as sheriff. It should be an excellent stepping-stone to higher office.'

'Stepping-stone? It's an important job in itself.'

'I'm sure you're right, sir. And I'd certainly give it my undivided attention as long as I held it. But – '

'I know, I know,' the marshal gestured irritably. 'You aspire to higher office. The very highest in the country, correct? Now, don't sit there looking lofty. And, for God's sake, don't tell me that any man can be president!'

'Why not, Uncle Harry?' His nephew was honestly puzzled.

'I'll ask you a question. What is the male population of the United States, and how many of those males may simultaneously occupy the office of president?'

'Well… there can only be one president at a time, of course, but – '

'Correct, only one, despite the fact that there must be many, many others equally well qualified among the multi-million population of males. You worry me, Jim,' Marshal Thompson shook his head troubledly. 'I'm afraid my favorite niece-in-law, your dear mother, did you a serious disservice in your childhood. She should have taught you more arithmetic, and dwelt less on the fact that Abe Lincoln was her fourth cousin.'

'Second
cousin. After all he would hardly have performed the marriage ceremony for a mere fourth cousin.'

'Second cousin, eh? And Mr. Lincoln married her to your father? Interesting, very interesting. There seems to have been a remarkable improvement in your mother's memory, or mine has abandoned me completely.'

'After I serve as sheriff,' said Deputy Thompson firmly, 'I shall run for Congress.'

'Oh, shut up,' said his uncle.

'You introduced the subject of politics, sir. I was trying to discuss the murder of the Anderson woman, Little Sis, that is – '

'How do we know it was Little Sis? How do we know she was murdered?'

'Well… of course, we can't make positive identification. But it would certainly seem a safe assumption that the dead woman was she, and that – '

'We can assume that, yes. We can also assume that she was murdered by her older sister. Little Sis jumped the train when she discovered that Big Sis was following her. The latter went right out the window after Little Sis, who she thought was carrying the loot from their many murders – _and she may have been carrying it, Jim._ Big Sis may have gotten it all back from her before beating her to death.'

'But Little Sis couldn't have had the money! Critchfield King had stolen it from her!'

'Did he?'

'Of course, he did! And Arlington King stole it from him.'

'Did he?'

'Yes, certainly! You know he must have, Uncle Harry! Why – why, everything points to the fact that – '

'It points to it, in our minds. Which way it would point in the minds of a jury is something else again, as you should know better than I. Or didn't you tell me you were a qualified attorney? No, Jim,' the marshal averred firmly. 'We have no evidence to go on at all, at this point. Not one whit of proof. We can assume certain things, and I think our assumptions may be correct. Whether we can prove it or not depends on Big Sis.'

'On
her?
How?'