True Grit - Charles Portis [31]
Mrs. Floyd was alive with curiosity and I told her I was going over into the Territory with some marshals to look at a man they had arrested. This did not satisfy her by any means but I pleaded ignorance of details. I told her I would likely be gone for several days and if my mother or Lawyer Daggett made inquiries (a certainty) she was to reassure them as to my safety.
I rolled up the blankets with the sack of food inside and then wrapped the slicker around the roll and made it fast with some twine. I put Papa’s heavy coat on over my own coat. I had to turn the cuffs back. My little hat was not as thick and warm as his so I traded. Of course it was too big and I had to fold up some pages from the New Era and stick them inside the band to make for a snug fit. I took my bundle and my gun sack and left for the stock barn.
Stonehill was just leaving when I got there. He was singing the hymn Beulah Land to himself in a low bass voice. It is one of my favorites. He stopped singing when he saw me.
“It is you again,” said he. “Is there some complaint about the pony?”
“No, I am very happy with him,” said I. “Little Blackie is my ‘chum.’ ”
“A satisfied customer gladdens the heart.”
“I believe you have picked up some since last I saw you.”
“Yes, I am a little better. Richard’s himself again. Or will be ere the week is out. Are you leaving us?”
“I am getting an early start tomorrow and I thought I would stay the balance of the night in your barn. I don’t see why I should pay Mrs. Floyd a full rate for only a few hours sleep.”
“Why indeed.”
He took me inside the barn and told the watchman it would be all right for me to stay the night on the office bunk. The watchman was an old man. He helped me to shake out the dusty quilt that was on the bunk. I looked in on Little Blackie at his stall and made sure everything was in readiness. The watchman followed me around.
I said to him, “Are you the one that had his teeth knocked out?”
“No, that was Tim. Mine was drawn by a dentist. He called himself a dentist.”
“Who are you?”
“Toby.”
“I want you to do something.”
“What are you up to?”
“I am not free to discuss it. Here is a dime for you. At two hours before sunup I want you to feed this pony. Give him a double handful of oats and about the same amount of corn, but no more, along with a little hay. See that he has sufficient water. At one hour before sunup I want you to wake me up. When you have done that, put this saddle and this bridle on the pony. Have you got it all straight?”
“I am not simple, I am just old. I have handled horses for fifty years.”
“Then you should do a good job. Do you have any business in the office tonight?”
“I cannot think of any.”
“If you do have, take care of it now.”
“There is nothing I need in there.”
“That’s fine. I will close the door and I do not want a lot of coming and going while I am trying to sleep.”
I slept well enough wrapped in the quilt. The fire in the office stove had been banked but the little room was not so cold as to be very uncomfortable. The watchman Toby was true to his word and he woke me in the chill darkness before dawn. I was up and buttoning my boots in a moment. While Toby saddled the horse I washed myself, using some of his hot coffee water to take the sting out of a bucket of cold water.
It came to me that I should have left one of the bacon sandwiches out of the bundle for breakfast, but you can never think of everything. I did not want to open it up now. Toby gave me a portion of his grits that he had warmed up.
“Do you not have any butter to put on it?” I asked him.
“No,” said he, and I had to eat it plain. I tied my roll behind the saddle as I had seen Papa do and I made doubly sure it was secure.
I could see no good place to carry the pistol. I wanted the piece ready at hand but the belt was too big around for my waist and the pistol itself was far too big and heavy to stick in the waist of my jeans. I finally tied the neck of the gun sack to the saddle horn with a good knot about the size of a turkey egg.
I led Little Blackie from