King Blood(37)

At last, Old Ike glanced at his turnip-like watch, belched heavily, and shoved back his plate. Tepaha also belched and leaned back from the table. In short, the meal was over.

Ike caught Arlie's eye, and nodded to him. 'You an' Kay go saddle up. You're gettin' a late start this mornin'.'

'Me an' Kay again, huh?' Arlie scowled. 'How come it ain't never Critch and Joshie.'

Ike ignored him, turning to Joshie. 'Go bring Critch's bottle, an' some of his seegars. We got talk to make.'

Joshie said, 'Yes, Old Uncle,' and scurried away, giving her sister a triumphant sneer. Still ignoring Arlie, Ike spoke to Critch: How did Critch feel about ranch work by now? Was everyone treatin' him all right? Was there anything he needed? Critch murmured appropriate replies, nervously aware of his brother's displeasure. Arlie flung back his chair suddenly. He stamped out of the room, moving so fast that Kay was forced to run to keep up with him.

'So everything's goin' all right?' Ike asked, as Joshie poured after-breakfast drinks. 'Any questions about the work or anythin'?'

'None so far,' Critch smiled. 'None, that is, that Arlie hasn't been able to answer.'

'They's maybe plenty Arlie can learn from you. You figure he needs to know somethin', you speak up.'

Critch nodded, without the slightest intention of carrying out his father's order. Arlie's hurt pride and huffiness must not be turned into anger. Moreover, he could hardly suggest improvements in a routine which, while arduous, was the essence of simplicity.

The day's work consisted of merely visiting the holdings of one Apache tenant after another. At each place, Arlie and Critch consulted with the head of the family, inquiring into his progress, taking note of his needs and offering such advice as seemed indicated. Meanwhile, Joshie and Kay performed much the same chore for the household's womenfolk.

'Lessee, now,' Old Ike rumbled. 'The four of you is still ridin' together, right? Maybe you ought to be splittin' up into twos, so's you could cover more ground.'

'Well…' Critch hesitated. 'If you think I'm ready…'

Ike said it wasn't what he thought, but what Critch thought that mattered. 'Make up your own mind,' he added, hoisting his heavy body from his chair. 'Now, you better be skedaddlin' out o' here.' *d*

Old Ike and Old Tepaha retired to the bar room for a time, each napping briefly, head on chest, though both would have denied it. They awakened simultaneously, and went for a highly critical tour of the Junction's commercial facilities. It was nearing train time by then, so they walked down to the depot. The agent-telegrapher, a half-breed who lived primitively on the premises, treated them to coffee and amiable insults. In the distance, the train hooted its approach and they went outside to greet it.

It came and went, leaving not an iota of mail. Not a single dun or notice of creditor's judgement. It had been so for many days now, more days than Old Ike's memory – a memory that was responsive only to things in the distant past rather than the immediate – could accurately recall.

With relief and puzzlement, he pondered the riddle aloud.

Tepaha declared that the answer was simple. 'All bad men. Bad men make bad enemies. Maybe so all get killed, I betcha.'

'All 't once? That don't make sense.'

'Huh! What makes sense, then, you so God damn smart?'

'Well… I reckon they just figured I was an A-1 honest fella that wasn't out to beat no one for his money – like they'd've knowed in the first place if they had any God damn sense – so they ups and decides t'stop pesterin' me.'

'Ho! You one crazy shit, ol' Ike.'

'What's crazy about it, you dried up ol' son-of-a-bitch?'

'Huh! I say maybe all get killed, all 't once, you say don't make sense. You say all get nice-nice all 't once, I say you don't make no sense. Same God damn thing, by God, only I smarter'n you. Enemies like fleas on dead dog. No nice-nice never. Bite him till he dies.'

Arguing crotchetily, the two old men walked back toward the hotel. And at last Ike yawned, losing interest in the discussion. Ending it with the statement that he was content with the fact that his creditors were leaving him alone, and he didn't care a cow turd why they were doing it.

'Now' – he suppressed another yawn, turning into the hotel's bar, 'we'll just have ourselves a little drink, an' then I'm goin' up to my room. Got some plannin' I got to do.'

'I also have plans to make,' Tepaha declared with great dignity, 'and must do so in my room.'

They drank.

They went up the stairs together. Each leaning slightly against the other, each supporting the other with his body.

At the head of the stairs, they stood panting for a time. Then, as they trudged slowly down the hall toward their rooms and beds, Tepaha addressed his friend. Speaking in Spanish as do all wise men when treating of delicate and painful matters.