True Grit - Charles Portis [64]
Harold Permalee brought back a handful of feathers and Lucky Ned Pepper chose one and cut the tip off with his knife and reamed out the hole a little. He dipped the quill into the “ink” and printed NED on his wrist in childish characters. He said, “There. You see. That is my name. Is it not?”
I said, “Yes, that is Ned.”
He handed me the feather. “Now go to it.”
A flat rock with one of the contracts laid on it was made to serve for a desk. It is not in me to do poor work where writing is concerned and I toiled earnestly at making faithful copies of Mr. Whelper’s signature. However, the makeshift pen and ink were not satisfactory. The writing jumped and spread wide and pinched thin. It looked as though it had been done with a stick. My thought was: Who will believe that Mr. Whelper signs his banknotes with a stick?
But the unlettered bandit chieftain knew little of the world of banking except for such glimpses as he got over a gun sight, and he was pleased with the work. I signed and signed, using his palm for an inkwell. It was very tiring. As soon as I had finished one note he would snatch it up and pass me another.
He said, “They are as good as gold, Bob. I will trade them at Colbert’s.”
Greaser Bob said, “Nothing on paper is as good as gold. That is my belief.”
“Well, that is how much a damned Mexican knows.”
“It is every man to his own principles. Tell her to hurry along.”
When the criminal task was completed Lucky Ned Pepper put the notes and the check in the gray envelope and secured it in his saddle wallet. He said, “Tom, we will see you tonight. Make yourself agreeable to this child. Little Carroll will be here before you know it.”
Then they departed the place, not riding their horses but leading them, as the hill was so steep and brushy.
I was alone with Tom Chaney!
He sat across the fire from me, my pistol in his waistband and the Henry rifle in his lap. His face was a “brown study.” I stirred up the fire a little and arranged some glowing coals around one of the cans of hot water.
Chaney watched me. He said, “What are you doing?”
I said, “I am heating some water so that I may wash this black off my hands.”
“A little smut will not harm you.”
“Yes, that is true, or else you and your ‘chums’ would surely be dead. I know it will not harm me but I would rather have it off.”
“Don’t provoke me. You will find yourself in that pit.”
“Lucky Ned Pepper has warned you that if you molest me in any way he will not pay you. He means business too.”
“I fear he has no idea of paying me. I believe he has left me, knowing I am sure to be caught when I leave on foot.”
“He promised he would meet you at ‘The Old Place.’ ”
“Keep still. I must now think over my position and how I may improve it.”
“What about my position? At least you have not been abandoned by a man who was paid and pledged to protect you.”
“You little busybody! What does your kind know of hardship and affliction? Now keep still while I think.”
“Are you thinking about ‘The Old Place?’ ”
No, I am not thinking about ‘The Old Place.’ Carroll Permalee or nobody else is coming up here with any horse. They are not going to ‘The Old Place.’ I am not so easily fooled as some people might think.”
I thought to ask him about the other gold piece, then checked myself, afraid that he might force me to give over the one I had recovered. I said, “What have you done with Papa’s mare?”
He gave no answer.
I said, “If you will let me go now I will keep silent as to your whereabouts for two days.”
“I tell you I can do better than that,” said he. “I can have your silence forever. I will not tell you again to hold your tongue.”
The water was not boiling but it had begun to steam a little and I picked up the can with a rag and flung it at him, then took to my feet in frantic flight. Though caught by surprise, he managed to shield his face