True Grit - Charles Portis [39]
We were surprised to see smoke and sparks coming from the chimney. Light showed through the cracks around the door, which was a low, crude thing hung to the sill by leather hinges. There was no window.
We had halted in a cedar brake. Rooster dismounted and told us to wait. He took his Winchester repeating rifle and approached the door. He made a lot of noise as his boots broke through the crust that had now formed on top of the snow.
When he was about twenty feet from the dugout the door opened just a few inches. A man’s face appeared in the light and a hand came out holding a revolver. Rooster stopped. The face said, “Who is it out there?” Rooster said, “We are looking for shelter. There is three of us.” The face in the door said, “There is no room for you here.” The door closed and in a moment the light inside went out.
Rooster turned to us and made a beckoning signal. LaBoeuf dismounted and went to join him. I made a move to go but LaBoeuf told me to stay in the cover of the brake and hold the horses.
Rooster took off his deerskin jacket and gave it to LaBoeuf and sent him up on the clay bank to cover the chimney. Then Rooster moved about ten feet to the side and got down on one knee with his rifle at the ready. The jacket made a good damper and soon smoke could be seen curling out around the door. There were raised voices inside and then a hissing noise as of water being thrown on fire and coals.
The door was flung open and there came two fiery blasts from a shotgun. It scared me nearly to death. I heard the shot falling through tree branches. Rooster returned the volley with several shots from his rifle. There was a yelp of pain from inside and the door was slammed to again.
“I am a Federal officer!” said Rooster. “Who all is in there? Speak up and be quick about it!”
“A Methodist and a son of a bitch!” was the insolent reply. “Keep riding!”
“Is that Emmett Quincy?” said Rooster.
“We don’t know any Emmett Quincy!”
“Quincy, I know it is you! Listen to me! This is Rooster Cogburn! Columbus Potter and five more marshals is out here with me! We have got a bucket of coal oil! In one minute we will burn you out from both ends! Chuck your arms out clear and come out with your hands locked on your head and you will not be harmed! Oncet that coal oil goes down the chimney we are killing everything that comes out the door!”
“There is only three of you!”
“You go ahead and bet your life on it! How many is in there?”
“Moon can’t walk! He is hit!”
“Drag him out! Light that lamp!”
“What kind of papers have you got on me?”
“I don’t have no papers on you! You better move, boy! How many is in there?”
“Just me and Moon! Tell them other officers to be careful with their guns! We are coming out!”
A light showed again from inside. The door was pulled back and a shotgun and two revolvers were pitched out. The two men came out with one limping and holding to the other. Rooster and LaBoeuf made them lie down on their bellies in the snow while they were searched for more weapons. The one called Quincy had a bowie knife in one boot and a little twoshot gambler’s pistol in the other. He said he had forgotten they were there but this did not keep Rooster from giving him a kick.
I came up with the horses and LaBoeuf took them into the stock shelter. Rooster poked the two men into the dugout with his rifle. They were young men in their twenties. The one called Moon was pale and frightened and looked no more dangerous than a fat puppy. He had been shot in the thigh and his trouser leg was bloody. The man Quincy had a long, thin face with