True Grit - Charles Portis [25]
“No, I did not think that.”
“Preachers don’t have nothing better to do. I had my work to see to. Your Government marshals don’t have time to be paying a lot of social calls. They are too busy trying to follow all the regulations laid down by Uncle Sam. That gentleman will have his fee sheets just and correct or he does not pay.”
“Yes, I see they are keeping you busy.”
“What you see is a honest man who has worked half the night on his fee sheets. It is the devil’s own work and Potter is not here to help me. If you don’t have no schooling you are up against it in this country, sis. That is the way of it. No sir, that man has no chance any more. No matter if he has got sand in his craw, others will push him aside, little thin fellows that have won spelling bees back home.”
I said, “I read in the paper where they are going to hang the Wharton man.”
“There was nothing else they could do,” said he. “It is too bad they cannot hang him three or four times.”
“When will they do the job?”
“It is set for January but Lawyer Goudy is going to Washington city to see if President Hayes will not commute the sentence. The boy’s mother, Minnie Wharton, has got some property and Goudy will not let up till he has got it all.”
“Will the President let him off, do you think?”
“It is hard to say. What does the President know about it? I will tell you. Nothing. Goudy will claim the boy was provoked and he will tell a bushel of lies about me. I should have put a ball in that boy’s head instead of his collarbone. I was thinking about my fee. You will sometimes let money interfere with your notion of what is right.”
I took the folded currency from my pocket and held it up, showing it to him.
Rooster said, “By God! Look at it! How much have you got there? If I had your hand I would throw mine in.”
“You did not believe I would come back, did you?”
“Well, I didn’t know. You are a hard one to figure.”
“Are you still game?”
“Game? I was born game, sis, and hope to die in that condition.”
“How long will it take you to get ready to go?”
“Ready to go where?”
“To the Territory. To the Indian Territory to get Tom Chaney, the man who shot my father, Frank Ross, in front of the Monarch boardinghouse.”
“I forget just what our agreement was.”
“I offered to pay you fifty dollars for the job.”
“Yes, I remember that now. What did I say to that?”
“You said your price was a hundred dollars.”
“That’s right, I remember now. Well, that’s what it still is. It will take a hundred dollars.”
“All right.”
“Count it out there on the table.”
“First I will have an understanding. Can we leave for the Territory this afternoon?”
He sat up in the bed. “Wait,” he said. “Hold up. You are not going.”
“That is part of it,” said I.
“It cannot be done.”
“And why not? You have misjudged me if you think I am silly enough to give you a hundred dollars and watch you ride away. No, I will see the thing done myself.”
“I am a bonded U.S. marshal.”
“That weighs but little with me. R. B. Hayes is the U.S. President and they say he stole Tilden out.”
“You never said anything about this. I cannot go up against Ned Pepper’s band and try to look after a baby at one and the same time.”
“I am not a baby. You will not have to worry about me.”
“You will slow me down and get in my way. If you want this job done and done fast you will let me do it my own way. Credit me for knowing my business. What if you get sick again? I can do nothing for you. First you thought I was a preacher and now you think I am a doctor with a flat stick who will look at your tongue every few minutes.”
“I will not slow you down. I am a good enough rider.”
“I will not be stopping at boardinghouses with warm beds and plates of hot grub on the table. It will be traveling fast and eating light. What little sleeping is done will take place on the ground.”
“I have slept out at night. Papa took me and Little Frank coon hunting last summer on the Petit Jean.”
“Coon hunting?”
“We were out in the woods all night. We sat around a big fire and Yarnell