True Grit - Charles Portis [43]
LaBoeuf said, “I told you we should have separated them.”
Rooster said nothing to that, not wishing to own he had made a mistake. He went through the pockets of the dead thieves and put such oddments as he found upon the table. The lantern was beyond repair and LaBoeuf brought out a candle from his saddle wallet and lit it and fixed it on the table. Rooster turned up a few coins and cartridges and notes of paper money and a picture of a pretty girl torn from an illustrated paper and pocket knives and a plug of tobacco. He also found a California gold piece in Quincy’s vest pocket.
I fairly shouted when I saw it. “That is my father’s gold piece!” said I. “Let me have it!”
It was not a round coin but a rectangular slug of gold that was minted in “The Golden State” and was worth thirty-six dollars and some few cents. Rooster said, “I never seen a piece like this before. Are you sure it is the one?” I said, “Yes, Grandfather Spurling gave Papa two of these when he married Mama. That scoundrel Chaney has still got the other one. We are on his trail for certain!”
“We are on Ned’s trail anyhow,” said Rooster. “I expect it is the same thing. I wonder how Quincy got aholt of this. Is this Chaney a gambler?”
LaBoeuf said, “He likes a game of cards. I reckon Ned has called off the robbery if he is not here by now.”
“Well, we won’t count on that,” said Rooster. “Saddle the horses and I will lug these boys out.”
“Do you aim to run?” said LaBoeuf.
Rooster turned a glittering eye on him. “I aim to do what I come out here to do,” said he. “Saddle the horses.”
Rooster directed me to straighten up the inside of the dugout. He carried the bodies out and concealed them in the woods. I sacked up the turkey fragments and pitched the wrecked lantern into the fireplace and stirred around on the dirt floor with a stick to cover the blood. Rooster was planning an ambush.
When he came back from his second trip to the woods he brought a load of limbs for the fireplace. He built up a big fire so there would be light and smoke and indicate that the cabin was occupied. Then we went out and joined LaBoeuf and the horses in the brush arbor. This dwelling, as I have said, was set back in a hollow where two slopes pinched together in a kind of V. It was a good place for what Rooster had in mind.
He directed LaBoeuf to take his horse and find a position up on the north slope about midway along one stroke of the V, and explained that he would take up a corresponding position on the south slope. Nothing was said about me with regard to the plan and I elected to stay with Rooster.
He said to LaBoeuf, “Find you a good place up yonder and then don’t move about. Don’t shoot unless you hear me shoot. What we want is to get them all in the dugout. I will kill the last one to go in and then we will have them in a barrel.”
“You will shoot him in the back?” asked LaBoeuf.
“It will give them to know our intentions is serious. These ain’t chicken thieves. I don’t want you to start shooting unless they break. After my first shot I will call down and see if they will be taken alive. If they won’t we will shoot them as they come out.”
“There is nothing in this plan but a lot of killing,” said LaBoeuf. “We want Chelmsford alive, don’t we? You are not giving them any show.”
“It is no use giving Ned and Haze a show. If they are taken they will hang and they know it. They will go for a fight every time. The others may be chickenhearted and give up, I don’t know. Another thing, we don’t know how many there is. I do know there is just two of us.”
“Why don’t I try to wing Chelmsford before he gets inside?