So now the conductor cringed and mumbled repeated apologies as Critch berated him. Never guessing the young man's real reason for the tirade. Forgetting his suspicions, the mystery of the shattered window and the missing woman, as Critch mercilessly bawled him out.
' – a disgrace. This railroad and everyone connected with it! Talk about your slow trains through Arkansas! I could have crawled faster than this thing travels!'
'Well, y'see, this is a local, Mr. King. Has to stop at every wide place in the road. Now we got an express that – '
'I'll bet! Probably has a top speed of twelve miles an hour!'
'No, sir. It can hit twenty-twenty-five, if the grade's right. But – '
'Oh, forget it. Who cares?' said Critch, with exaggerated weariness. 'You've carried me past my stop. Now, I assume you're going to tell me that you don't have a drawing room available.'
The conductor nodded unhappily. 'Did have one until a little spell ago. If I'd known – ' He broke off, beaming with sudden delight. 'Your brother! Now how the heck could I have forgot?'
'My brother?' Critch frowned. 'What about him?'
'I mean, he's the one that got the last stateroom! You can share it with him!' *b*
Arlie greeted Critch enthusiastically, enveloping him in a bearhug which the latter could have well done without in view of the money he was carrying. At last releasing himself, Critch shot a questioning glance at the young Indian who lolled on one of the room's upholstered benches – an Apache youth with a bandaged hand and citified clothes. Arlie said that they could talk openly, since the young man knew barely a dozen words of English.
'Gonna make it damned hard for him in El Reno,' he added. 'But he had to have a fling at city life, so Paw told him to take off.'
'I see,' Critch smiled, and he attempted to introduce himself. But through lack of usage, the Apache language had become virtually so much Greek to him. And it was left to Arlie to perform the introductions. He did so at some length, the youth apparently being rather stupid and having to ask numerous questions. Finally, however, the Indian grunted in understanding, and grinned a hopeful question at Critch.
'Whiskey?' he said.
'Why, yes,' Critch smiled. 'I have a – '
'But he ain't getting it,' Arlie declared. 'The son-of-a-bitch ain't gettin' no more until we hit El Reno. Hear me, I.K.' – he spat out another fluent stream of Apache. 'No more.'
The youth subsided, sulking with displeasure. Arlie turned his attention back to his brother, raining question after question upon him, his last question, significantly, being a casual inquiry about their mother.
Critch replied that he hadn't seen her for years, and that he had no pleasant memories of her. 'I'd rather not talk about her, if you don't mind, Arlie. The past is past, and there's no point in looking back. I've managed to do very well, in spite of everything.'
'A fool could see that,' Arlie smiled warmly. 'Paw'll be plumb proud of you. How come you didn't get off at King's Junction, anyways?'
'We-el' Critch pursed his lips judiciously. 'I had considered it. But I wasn't sure of my welcome, and I saw no reason to go home aside from the sentimental ones.'
'No reason!' Arlie exclaimed. 'Heirin' big in Paw's will wasn't a reason?'
Critch assumed an air of puzzlement, asserting that Old Ike could surely have little or nothing for his sons to inherit.
'Now, I did run into an Osage lawyer over in Tulsa – he appeared to be a pretty good fellow, at first – '
'He wrote Paw about you,' Arlie chuckled. Claimed you stole his wallet.'
'A real shyster,' Critch nodded equably. 'First, he stuck me for almost twenty dollars worth of drinks. Then, he showed up at my hotel the next morning and threatened to make a bad report on me if I didn't pay him five hundred. I told him I didn't care what he did, since I knew that my father was a relatively poor man.'
_'Paw, poor?_ He's got some debts sure, but how come you figured he was poor?'
'Well, he never really owned any land. He had some under lease in the Strip, but most of it he just moved in on, and took.'
'An' he's still got it, too, little brother! Got just what he always had. Them land-openings didn't change a thing with Paw.'
Critch shook his head wonderingly. 'But how in the world…?'
'Let me tell you,' Arlie grinned, and he did so; relating a tale that was already familiar throughout much of the Southwest.
Arlie, Boz and Old Ike had all used their right to stake out homesteads of one-hundred-and-sixty acres. In addition, some fifth of Ike's lighter-skinned Apache followers wearing city clothes had staked out claims of similar size. Like the Kings, however, they had not made the Run, the race for homesteads, but had 'soonered' the land, putting their stakes down on territory which Old Ike had held from the start.
'You know what I mean, Critch? You savvy "sooner"?'