From Here to Eternity_ The Restored Edit - Jones, James [492]
“Hokay. But you costing me. You want another beer too?”
Warden looked at his bottle. “Yeah. Throw that out. Gimme cold one.”
“You more trouble than I’m worth,” Rose smiled.
“You think so? Whats your boy friend’s name, Rose?”
“You go to hell.”
“What outfit’s he in?”
“I said you go to hell.”
“You know why I like for you to fill my glass, Rose? Its because I like to watch you walk away afterwards. You got a lovely bottom, Rose.”
“I’m married,” Rose said with dignity, meaning she was shacked up. But she was flattered.
“Whats your boy friend’s name?”
“Goddam it,” Rose exploded. “You shut up and go to hell.”
“My name is Berny,” the Artillery S/Sgt said, coming over from the booth. He was almost as big a man as Warden. “Sgt Ira Berny. 8th Field Artillery. Anything else you want to know, Sergeant?”
“Well,” Warden said thoughtfully. “How old are you?”
“Twenty-four next June,” the S/Sgt said. “Anything else?”
“You got a very lovely shackjob for so young a man.”
“And I aim to keep her,” the S/Sgt said. “Anything else?”
“Yes. Would you be so kind as to have a drink with me and my friend here?” Warden said.
“Sure.”
“Rose honey,” Warden said, “pour him one.”
“Whiskey,” the S/Sgt said.
Rose poured it. Warden paid her. The S/Sgt tossed it off. “Well, be seein you,” Warden said in dismissal, and turned back to Stark, his back toward them. “Have a good time.” He began to talk to Stark.
They stood a moment, caught up short. Then they both went back to the booth. In the booth they began to talk to each other violently, and the three buddies listening.
“What the hell you doin?” Stark said. “Tryin’ to start a fight?”
“I never start fights.”
“But I suppose you finish them,” Stark said.
“No. I dont even finish them.”
“Shall we take him now?”
“Take who where?” Warden said.
“Yore buddy, the S/Sgt.”
“What are you talking about?” Warden demanded. “Oh, I forgot. You’re a Texan. Hey, Texan,” he said “I hear you’re a hotshot rifle shooter. Is that right?”
“I know the front end from the back,” Stark said.
“How’d you like to shoot with me, Texan? Make a little sidebet. Say about a hundred bucks.”
Stark reached in his pocket. “Even money?”
Warden grinned.
“Any time you say,” Stark said. He extracted a ten and three ones from the fold of bills and tossed the rest of it on the bar. “One hundred bucks. Any old time you say.”
The roll was mostly fives and ones and it looked very big lying loose on the bar folded once.
Warden bent to look at it. “Well, well, if the Texan aint gone and collected himself a great big pile of dough. Hows it feel to be rich, Texan?”
“Theres a shootin gallery right up the street,” Stark said. “Or we can go over to Mom’s gallery on Hotel Street. Get there in five minutes.”
“You’d have a better chance there than you would out on the Range.”
“Do you want to bet? or dont you?” Stark demanded. “Put up or shut up.”
“You’re a sucker, Texan; dint I tell you I could make you do anything I want? Why, I could even make you go over there and fight that whole bunch of Artillerymen, if I wanted to. Dont you know I can outshoot you hands down? Put your money in your pocket like a good little boy. There aint three men on this Rock can outshoot me, and you know it.”
“You cant make me do nothin I dont already want to do,” Stark insisted.
Warden tapped his temple with his second finger. “Brains, Texan. Brains and a sense of humor. Why you could be an Officer in three months, with me guidin you.”
“Who the hell wants to be an Officer?” Stark exclaimed indignantly. “You dont have to insult me. I can take care of myself, Firs Sarnt. I get along.”
“Now thats just where you’re wrong, Texan. Thats what I’m tryin to teach you. Its results that count. You dont have to lose your pride if you dont want to. You could be an Officer easy as not.”
“Dont do me no favors.”
“You still want to shoot with me, Texan?”
“Anytime you say.”
“Okay,” Warden grinned slyly. “We’ll go over to Mom’s and shoot ten rounds at a card, a hundred bucks even money. Let Mom hold the stakes. Here.” He tossed the dampened fold