True Grit - Charles Portis [52]
There was no real doctor there at that time but there was a young Indian who had some medical training and was competent to set broken bones and dress gunshot wounds. LaBoeuf sought him out for treatment.
I went with Rooster, who searched out an Indian policeman of his acquaintance, a Captain Boots Finch of the Choctaw Light Horse. These police handled Indian crimes only, and where white men were involved the Light Horse had no authority. We found the captain in a small log house. He was sitting on a box by a stove getting his hair cut. He was a slender man about of an age with Rooster. He and the Indian barber were ignorant of the stir our arrival had caused.
Rooster came up behind the captain and goosed him in the ribs with both hands and said, “How is the people’s health, Boots?”
The captain gave a start and reached for his pistol, and then he saw who it was. He said, “Well, I declare, Rooster. What brings you to town so early?”
“Is this town? I was thinking I was out of town.”
Captain Finch laughed at the gibe. He said, “You must have traveled fast if you are here on that Wagoner’s Switch business.”
“That is the business right enough.”
“It was little Ned Pepper and five others. I suppose you know that.”
“Yes. How much did they get?”
“Mr. Smallwood says they got $17,000 cash and a packet of registered mail from the safe. He has not got a total on the passenger claims. I am afraid you are on a cold trail here.”
“When did you last see Ned?”
“I am told he passed through here two days ago. He and Haze and a Mexican on a round-bellied calico pony. I didn’t see them myself. They won’t be coming back this way.”
Rooster said, “That Mexican was Greaser Bob.”
“Is that the young one?”
“No, it’s the old one, the Original Bob from Fort Worth.”
“I heard he was badly shot in Denison and had given up his reckless ways.”
“Bob is hard to kill. He won’t stay shot. I am looking for another man. I think he is with Ned. He is short and has a black mark on his face and he carries a Henry rifle.”
Captain Finch thought about it. He said, “No, the way I got it, there was only the three here. Haze and the Mexican and Ned. We are watching his woman’s house. It is a waste of time and none of my business but I have sent a man out there.”
Rooster said, “It is a waste of time all right. I know about where Ned is.”
“Yes, I know too but it will take a hundred marshals to smoke him out of there.”
“It won’t take that many.”
“It wouldn’t take that many Choctaws. How many were in that marshals’ party in August? Forty?”
“It was closer to fifty,” said Rooster. “Joe Schmidt was running that game, or misrunning it. I am running this one.”
“I am surprised the chief marshal would turn you loose on a hunt like this without supervision.”
“He can’t help himself this time.”
Captain Finch said, “I could take you in there, Rooster, and show you how to bring Ned out.”
“Could you now? Well, a Indian makes too much noise to suit me. Don’t you find it so, Gaspargoo?”
That was the barber’s name. He laughed and put his hand over his mouth. Gaspargoo is also the name of a fish that makes fair eating.
I said to the captain, “Perhaps you are wondering who I am.”
“Yes, I was wondering that,” said he. “I thought you were a walking hat.”
“My name is Mattie Ross,” said I. “The man with the