Off the Mangrove Coast (Ss) (2000) (3 page)

She put a hand on his arm. "Don't let it bother you, Tandy. You'll do all right." She looked away, then back at him. "You're fighting again, aren't you?"

"Tonight. It's a preliminary." His eyes took in the softness of her cheek, the lights in her dark brown hair. "Come and see it. Would you?"

"I'm going to be there. I'll be sure to be there early to see your fight."

He looked at her suddenly. "Where are you going now? Let's take a walk."

Dorinda hesitated only an instant. "All right." They walked along, neither of them saying much, until they stopped at a rail and looked down the sloping streets to the confusion of canneries and lumber wharves along the riverfront. Off to the northwest the sun slanted through the clouds and threw a silver light on the river, silhouetting a steam schooner inbound from the rough water out where the Columbia met the Pacific. "You worked here long?" he asked suddenly. "No, only about two months. I was headed to Portland but I couldn't find a job. I came from Arizona. My father has a ranch out there, but I thought I'd like to try singing. So I was going to go to school at night, and study voice in my spare time."

"That's funny, you being from Arizona," he said. "I just came from there!"

"You did?" She laughed. "One place is all sun, the other all rain."

"Well, I grew up here. In St. John's, over near Portland.

My dad worked at a box-shuck factory there. You know, fruit boxes, plywood an' all."

"Is he still there" she looked into his eyes "in Portland?"

"No." Tandy had to look away. "Not anymore." Dorinda suddenly glanced at her watch and gave a startled cry.

"Oh, we've got to go! I'm supposed to be back at work!" They made their way along the street and down the hill.

He left her at the door of the restaurant.

"I probably won't get a chance to see you after the fight," she said. "I've been invited to a party at the hotel." Quick jealousy touched him. "Who's giving?" he demanded.

"The fellow who is taking me, Stan Reiser." He stared at her, shocked and still. "Oh..." He blinked, then turned swiftly and walked away, trembling inside. Everywhere he turned it was Stan Reiser. He heard her call after him, heard her take a few running steps toward him, but he did not stop or turn his head.

He was burning with that old deep fury in the ring that night. Gus looked at him curiously as he stood in the corner rubbing his feet in the resin. In a ringside seat were Dorinda and Reiser, but Gus had not seen them yet. Briggs had. Briggs never missed anything.

"All right, kid," Gus said quietly, "you know more this time, and this guy ain't smart. But he can punch, so don't take any you can miss."

The bell sounded and Tandy Moore whirled like a cat. Benny Baker was fifteen pounds heavier and a blocky man, noted as a slugger. Tandy walked out fast and Benny sprang at him, throwing both hands.

Almost of its own volition, Tandy's left sprang from his shoulder. It was a jab, and a short one, but it smashed Benny Baker on the nose and stopped him in his tracks. Tandy jabbed again, then feinted, and when Baker lunged he drilled a short right to the slugger's chin.

Benny Baker hit the canvas on the seat of his pants, his eyes dazed. He floundered around and got up at six, turning to meet Tandy. Baker looked white around the mouth, and he tried to clinch, but Tandy stepped back and whipped up a powerful right uppercut and then swung a looping left to the jaw.

Baker hit the canvas on his shoulder blades. At the count of ten, he had not even wiggled a toe.

Tandy Moore turned then and avoiding Dorinda's eyes looked squarely at Reiser. It was only a look that held an instant, but Stan's face went dark and he started half to his feet, then slumped down.

"Go back to Albina Street, you weasel," Tandy said. "I'll be coming for you!" Then he slipped through the ropes and walked away.

Gus Coe watched the interchange. The big ex-fighter took his cigar from his mouth and looked at Stan thoughtfully. There was something between those two. But what?

With their winnings as a stake they took to the road. The following week, at the armory in Klamath Falls, Tandy Moore stopped Joe Burns in one round, and thereafter in successive weeks at Burns and Eugene he stopped Glen Hayes in two, Rolph Williams in one, Pedro Sarmineto in five, and Chuck Goslin in three.

Soon the fans were beginning to talk him up and the sportswriters were hearing stories of Tandy Moore.

"How soon do I get a chance at Reiser?" Tandy demanded, one night in their room.

Gus looked at him thoughtfully. "You shouldn't fight Reiser for a year," he said, and then added, "You've got something against him? What is it?"

"I just want to get in there with him. I owe him something, and I want to make sure he gets it!"

"Well," Gus said, looking at his cigar, "we'll see."

A little later, Gus asked, "Have you seen that girl lately, the one who used to work in the restaurant?"

Tandy, trying not to show interest, shrugged and shook his head.

"No. Why should I see her?"

"She was a pretty girl," Gus said. "Seemed to sort of like you, too."

"She went to the fights with Reiser."

"So what? That doesn't make her his girl, does it?" Gus demanded. "Did you ask her to go? I could have snagged a couple of ducats to bring her and a friend." Tandy didn't answer.

Gus took the cigar from his teeth, changed the subject abruptly.

"The trouble is," he said, "you got Reiser on your mind, and I don't know just how good you are. Sometimes when a man wants something awful bad, he improves pretty fast. In the short time we've been together, you've learned more than any scrapper I ever knew. But it's mighty important right now that I know how good you are."

Tandy looked up from the magazine he was thumbing. "Why now?"

"We've got an offer. Flat price of five grand, win, lose, . or draw, for ten rounds with Buster Crane."

"Crane?" Tandy dropped the magazine he was holding to the tabletop. "That guy held Reiser to a draw. He had him on the floor!"

"That's the one. He's good, too. He can box and he can hit, and he's fast. The only thing is, I'm kind of suspicious."

Briggs, who had been listening, looked up thoughtfully. "You mean you think it's a frame?"

"I think Bernie Satneck, Reiser's manager, would frame his own mother," Gus answered. "I think he's getting' scared of the kid here. Tandy wants Reiser, an' Satneck knows it. He's no fool, an' the kid has been bowling them over ever since he started, so what's more simple than to get him a scrap with Crane when the kid is green? If Crane beats him bad, he is finished off and no trouble for Satneck."

Conscious of Tandy Moore's intent gaze, he turned toward him. "What is it, kid?"

"Satneck, I want to take him down too! Him and his brother."

"I didn't know he had a brother," Briggs said.

"He may have a dozen for all I know," Gus said.

"Go ahead," Tandy said, "take that fight. I'll be ready." He grinned suddenly. "Five thousand? That's more than we've made in all of them, so far."

He walked out and closed the door. Briggs sat still for a while, then he got up and started out himself.

"Where you goin'?" Gus asked suspiciously.

"Why," Briggs said gently, "I'm getting very curious. I thought I'd go find out if Satneck has a brother and what they have to do with our boy here."

"Yeah," Gus said softly, "I see what you mean."

The month that followed found Tandy Moore in Wiley Spivey's gym six days a week. They were in Portland now, across the river from downtown and back in Tandy's home territory, although he mentioned this to no one. He worked with fighters of every size and style, with sluggers and boxers, with skilled counter punchers He listened to Gus pick flaws in their styles, and he studied slow-motion pictures of Crane's fights with Reiser.

He knew Buster Crane was good. He was at least a hundred percent better than any fighter Tandy had yet tackled. Above all, he could hit.

Briggs wasn't around. Tandy commented on that and Gus said, "Briggs? He's away on business, but will be back before the fight."

"He's quiet, isn't he? Known him long?"

"Twelve years, about. He's a dangerous man, kid. He was bodyguard for a politician with enemies, then he was a private dick. He was with the O. S. S. during the war, and he was a partner of mine when we had that trouble with Satneck and Reiser."

Chapter
IV

Tandy Moore stopped on the corner and looked down the street toward the river, but he was thinking of Buster Crane. That was the only thing that was important now. He must, at all costs, beat Crane.

Walking along, he glimpsed his reflection in a window and stopped abruptly. He saw a tall, clean-shaven, well-built young man with broad shoulders and a well-groomed look. He looked far better, he decided, than the rough young man who had eaten the steak that day in the restaurant and looked up into the eyes of Dorinda Lane.

Even as his thoughts repeated the name, he shied violently from it, yet he had never forgotten her. She was always there, haunting his thoughts. Remembering her comments, he never shaved but that he thought of her.

He had not seen her since that night when she came to the fight with Stan Reiser. And she hadn't worked at the restaurant in Astoria anymore after he returned from Klamath Falls.

Restlessly, Tandy Moore paced the streets, thinking first of Dorinda and then of Stan Reiser and all that lay behind it.

It was his driving urge to meet Reiser in the ring that made him so eager to learn from Gus. But it was more than that, too, for he had in him a deep love of combat, of striving, of fighting for something. But what?

Gus Coe was sitting in the hotel lobby when Tandy walked in. Gus seemed bigger than ever, well, he was fatter, and looked prosperous now. He grinned at Tandy and said something out of the corner of his mouth to Briggs, who was sitting, and the Irishman got up, his square face warm with a smile.

"How are you, Tandy?" he said quietly.

"Hey, Briggsie, welcome back." He glanced at Gus. "Say, let's go to a nightclub tonight. I want to get out and look around."

"The kid's got an idea," Briggs said. "We'll go to Nevada Johnson's place. He's putting on the fight and it'll be good for the kid to be seen there. We can break it up early enough so he can get his rest. It would do us all good to relax a little."

Gus shrugged. "Okay."

The place was fairly crowded, but they got a table down front, and they were hardly seated before the orchestra started to play, and then the spotlight swung onto a girl who was singing.

Gus looked up sharply, and Tandy's face was shocked and still, for the girl outlined by the spotlight was Dorinda Lane.

Tandy stared, and then he swallowed a sudden lump in his throat. Her voice was low and very beautiful, and he had never dreamed she could look so lovely. He sat entranced until her song ended, and then he looked over at Gus.

"Let's get out of here," he said.

"Wait " Gus caught his wrist, for the spotlight had swung to their table and the master of ceremonies gestured toward him.

"We have a guest with us tonight, ladies and gentlemen! A guest we are very proud to welcome! Tandy Moore, that rising young heavyweight who meets Buster Crane tomorrow night!"

Tandy looked trapped but took an uneasy bow. The spotlight swung away from him, and Gus leaned over.

"Nice going, kid," he said. "You looked good. Do you still want to go?"

They started for the door, and then Tandy looked over and saw Bernie Satneck sitting at a table on the edge of the floor. Reiser was with him, and another man who was a younger tougher version of the manager! Tandy locked his eyes forward and walked toward the lobby.

At the door he was waiting for Gus and Briggs to get their hats, when he heard a rustle of silk and looked around into Dorinda's face.

"Were you going to leave without seeing me?" she asked, holding out her hand.

He hesitated, his face flushing. Why did she have to be so beautiful and so desirable? He jerked his head toward the dining room.

"Stan Reiser's in there," he said. "Isn't he your boyfriend?"

Her eyes flashed her resentment. "No, he's not! And he never was! If you weren't so infernally stubborn, Tandy Moore, I'd have..."

"So, how did you get this job?"

Her face went white, and the next thing, her palm cracked across his mouth. The cigarette girl turned, her eyes wide, and the headwaiter started to hurry over, but Gus Coe arrived just in time. Catching Tandy's arm, he rushed him out the door.

Tandy was seething with anger, but anger more at himself than her. After all, it was a rotten thing for him to say. Maybe that hadn't been the way of it. And if it had, well, he'd been hungry himself. He was still hungry, no longer for food now, but for other things. And then the thought came to him that he was still hungry for her, Dorinda Lane.

The crowd was jammed to the edge of the ring when he climbed through the ropes the next night. His face was a somber mask. He heard the dull roar of thousands of people, and ducked his head to them and hurried to his corner.