Then, after a period of contented quiet… *b*
Arlie withdrew from his wife's full body; flopped down on his back at her side. 'Now, by God,' he declared, 'that's what I call a prime piece of meat! The more I get, the better it gets.'
Kay giggled, pleasedly, then suddenly made herself silent and drew slightly away from him. Arlie asked what the hell was the matter with her. Kay said there was no point in telling him. After all, she was only his wife, and a person of no consequence. Arlie let out a groan.
'Now, God damn it, ol' squaw -!'
'See? What I tell you?' Kay demanded. 'I tell you something for your own good, an' – '
'Well, I ain't gonna tell you nothing for your own good,' Arlie asserted. 'I'm gonna do something! Just one more God damned word out of you about Critch, an' I'm – '
'Hokay, hokay,' Kay shrugged. 'I not say one more God damn word. But by God, maybe some day you wish I had, I betcha.'
Arlie said, 'Oh, shit!' very loudly. There was a considerable silence after this, as Kay assumed an attitude of haughty hurt. At last, Arlie gave one of her breasts an affectionate pinch, and asked her why such a pretty little squaw had to be such a big horse's ass.
'I'm tellin' you, honey. I've said it before an' I'll say it again. Ol' Critch, he couldn't kill a baby chigger if it was chewin' his dong off.'
'Ho!' sniffed Kay. 'So you say, an I say how come? He a King, ain't he? You kill, ol' Boz kill, ol' Uncle Ike kill. All Kings plenty mean sonsabitches. All killers. So how come not Critch?'
Arlie wet his lips hesitantly. 'I don't know why,' he admitted. 'But I still know it. Maybe he got away from here young enough, so's he growed up different. Anyways, it just ain't in him t'kill no one.'
'Then, how he get all that money? You t'ink maybe some one jus' give it to him?'
'God damn it, don't you listen to nothin' I say? I told you Critch wasn't a killer. Which don't mean that he ain't the smoothest, sneakiest, crookedest son-of-a-bitch that ever come down the pike.'
'So he crooks somebody for money. Beeg, beeg money like U.S. treasury department, an ol' Critch he get it. Fool people plenty.'
'That's for sure, ol' squaw.'
'Critch plenty good foolin' people. Maybe so he fool you.'
'Oh, for shit's sake -!' Arlie slapped his forehead. 'I'll tell you who he fooled! Some God damn stupid woman like you!'
The outburst was purely retaliatory, its substance mere irritation. Not until the words were out of his mouth, did he consider their portent; that what he had said in thoughtless anger was quite likely true.
_By God, it made sense, didn't it? Lacking the guts to kill, Critch would logically choose women to victimize. He had screwed some woman for the seventy-two thousand; doubtless screwed her literally as well as figuratively._
What woman would be carrying so much cash? Why hadn't she appealed to the law, thus making Critch a wanted man – which he definitely was not?
The answer came to Arlie almost simultaneously with the question. The woman hadn't kicked because she couldn't. She was wanted herself. And…
_Those Anderson sisters! Critch had almost stared a hole in the wanted posters on them. Looked at 'em so long that Marshal Thompson had been half-way suspicious. And ol' Critch had covered up pretty well, being such a smooth, sneaky bastard. But still – _
Had Critch swindled both of the sisters or only one? How had he, no killer, managed to rob a woman (or women) who killed for a living?
'… well. Well?' Kay's voice cut in on his thoughts. 'You answer me, ol' Arlie!'
Arlie yawned elaborately, mumbled that he must have dozed off for a minute. 'What the hell you jabberin' about now?'
'I say,' repeated Kay firmly, 'that everyone kill sometime, 'bout something, even ol' Critch. Right now, he t'ink maybe he get money back, so he don't do nothin'. But he find out money gone, zzzzt, you be dead, ol' husband.'
Arlie groaned. Silently cursed himself for telling her about the money, and deciding to be very cautious in confiding in her henceforth.
'Ol' Uncle Ike, he like Critch better'n you. Maybe so some day Critch own ranch, an' you be up shit creek.'
Arlie grunted that she had obviously been up the creek herself and swallowed too much of its contents. 'Critch is just someone new for Paw to talk to, an' he ain't seen Critch since he was a kid. Soon as the newness wears off he'll be just as rough on Critch as he is on everyone.'
'Ho,' said Kay.
'Ho, ho!' said Arlie.
'Ol' Uncle Ike, he buys skinny cigars Critch like. He buy special extra fine whiskey Critch like. An' all the time, he make talk with Critch. Ol' Uncle Ike, he say, Arlie, go do this, do that; I will talk with Critch.'
'But God damn it, I just got through telling you -! I mean, uh, if you didn't keep your jaw goin' all the time like the clatter-bone in a duck's ass, an' I ever got a chance to think -!'
Kay turned on her side, pulled his head against her breast and gave him a motherly caress. She kissed him gently, softly stroking his hair; holding him protectively close. Of course, he should think, she said; and whatever he thought would be right, because he was her ol' Arlie an' he always knew what was best.