'How he figger out skunk make bad stink?'
'Why, you God damn -!'
'Arlie smarter'n you, old Boz. Old Arlie plenty man.'
'Shit! You sayin' I ain't a man?'
'I say it. You got no balls.'
Boz cursed, started to reach out for her again. Then knowing the uselessness of it, he angrily flopped over on his back.
And in their bedroom at the King's Junction Hotel (which was also the King ranchhouse) Arlie grasped his wife, Kay – for King – who was also Tepaha's grand-daughter and Joshie's sister, and gave her naked bottom an admiring slap.
'Now, that's an ass,' he declared. 'Gets any bigger you'll be shittin' in a washtub.'
'Ho!' Kay giggled happily. 'I shit in your hand, old husband.'
'Now, God damn if you ain't a snotty ol' squaw!'
'You like snotty ol' squaw?' She snuggled close to him, sneaking a small hand across his hard, flat belly. 'You like ol' squaw's stuff?'
'Well, now, I ain't so sure that I do. Maybe I just better take me a little sample…'
After they had again separated their bodies, and lay contentedly side by side, Kay whispered in her husband's ear, nudging him with playful impatience when he did not immediately answer.
'You do it, huh, ol' Arlie? You kill sonabitch Boz today?'
'We-el' Arlie paused, teasing her. 'Well, I reckon so. Figger I'll have me a plenty good chance today.'
'How you do it?'
Arlie shrugged lazily, murmuring that he'd kind of have to wait and see. 'But if I know that son-of-a-bitch, he's practically gonna do it for me.'
'Just you do it,' Kay insisted; then, wifelike, 'You too good-natured. Let people put things over on you.'
Arlie said he was going to put something over on her in about a moment. Kay persisted in her nagging.
'You get Critch, too. He come, you kill him.'
'Critch? What the hell for?'
'Hah! Same reason kill sonabitch, Boz.'
'Now, God damn,' drawled Arlie, in admiring wonderment. 'Ain't you the bloodthirsty ol' squaw! Don't even know whether Critch is comin', an' already you're after me to kill him.'
'Must make plans,' Kay said smugly. 'Must be ready.'
'Keep it up,' Arlie warned her. 'You just keep on talkin', an' I'll show you some plans. Danged good ones, too.'
'Ho! You not ready, old husband. Too soon.'
Arlie faced around to her, gave her bottom another smack. 'Real sure of that, are you? Real, real sure?'
'Well… Maybe you show me?' *b*
Behind the closed double-doors of the hotel ranchhouse bar room, Tepaha, the Apache, and Isaac Joshua King blustered and snarled at one another. Old Ike called Tepaha a woman with a peter. Old Tepaha declared that Ike had done treachery to a friend and brother.
'Even a boast you have made of it!' the old Indian shouted. 'You were warmed at Geronimo's fire. You smoked with him, and he called you friend and brother, and you smiled and called him like-wise. And then – ' Tepaha raised his arm dramatically. 'Then you – '
'Silence!' Old Ike cut him off with an infuriated howl. 'You twist truth into lies! I told you how it was! A hundred times, I told you! Why the hell don't you get the straight of it?'
'Shit!' said Tepaha loudly. 'Old Ike is old shit!'
It was a favorite word of his; one that he found extremely useful (as did Ike). Depending on how, where and when it was used, it could be virtually a vocabulary by itself.
'Goin' to tell you one more time,' Old Ike said. 'Ain't gonna tell it again, so by God you better listen…'
'Shit!'
'Will you hear me, old fool! The bluecoats had Geronimo in a cage there at Fort Sill. In a cage, by God, like a chongo in a zoo. An' all the God damn' saddle-tramps an' nesters an' their God damn' families for miles around had come in to gawk an' poke fun at him. Well, by Christ, I didn't like it a damn bit, an' I let 'em know it. I pushed my way through 'em, knockin' a few of 'em down, by God, an' I called Geronimo my friend and brother, like he was, o' course, an' I put my hand through the bars to shake with him. An' you know what that dirty chongo Apache done?'
'Chongo,' taunted Old Tepaha. 'Apache monkey, you monkey, too. You Apache brother.'
'That God damn' – _shut up!_ – that God damn' Geronimo grabbed my hand and bit it! So, by Christ, I just got me a-hold of the bastard's nose, an' I damn' near twisted if off'n him before the bluecoats butted in. An' – an' I ain't a damn' bit sorry, neither!'
But he was sorry. He had acted instinctively, without stopping to think that Geronimo's eyes and ears were probably failing him, and he had judged Old Ike yet another enemy instead of his friend and brother.
He was sorry as hell, Old Ike was. And Tepaha was sorry that he had raised the subject. He had done so out of friendship and pride – the same motives which had moved Old Ike to taunt and abuse him. For great shame had come to the families of Tepaha and King; a particularly degrading shame, since a member of each family had offended against a member of the other family. Boz was known to have abused his wife, Joshie. I.K. – Tepaha's grandson – had been caught stealing from his 'Uncle,' Old Ike.