'Great evil may derive from one pure in heart. He is blind to the mottled snake in the corn rows.'
'And kindness can be as a dagger,' Ike nodded. 'Tell me thou, what is in thy heart?'
'So. Then I tell you that you are creating bad blood between your sons. In clutching Critch too closely to your bosom, you are thrusting Arlie aside.'
'This… this I know.' Old Ike bowed his head. 'It is something I cannot help.'
'Cannot? Cannot becomes unbelievable on the lips of Old Ike King.' Tepaha hesitated. 'Is it because of her? You see her image in Critch?'
'Perhaps. But I see much more than that. I see a small boy thrust away from me when I should have held him closely to my heart. The time I have to spend with him does not equal the years that I spent without him.'
'But, Ike, my dear friend – '
'No. I cannot change what I was, friend Tepaha, and I cannot change what I am. Nor what I do. The heart is its own master, O, Tepaha, and you have entered a room where only I can dwell. Leave now, and do not return.'
'It shall be as you say,' Tepaha said.
Spanish was abandoned at this point, and they slid back into their everyday vernacular. Old Ike grunted that he would see Tepaha in an hour or so, as soon as he finished his planning, which was extensive and arduous since he had to do it for everyone.
'These God damn kids, nowadays, Tepaha; they ain't like we was. Have to tell 'em when to piss or it'd be runnin' out their ears.'
'Arlie plenty smart boy,' Tepaha said. 'Work damn hard, too.'
'Yeah, hell,' Old Ike said. 'I guess so. Who the hell said he wasn't?'
"Course, Critch plenty damn smart, too…'
'You're God damn right he is! Brought more'n three thousand dollars home with him, an' he was all dressed up an' talkin' as fine as the president of the U.S. An' – an' – '
'Also, he be good worker, come by an' by. Maybe so as good as Arlie.'
'What d'ya mean, maybe so, come by an' by?' Ike bellowed. 'He's as good now, you stupid old shit!'
He yanked open the door to his room, entered it and slammed the door behind him. Sitting down heavily on the bed, he toed his boots off and sank back on the pillows with a grateful sigh.
He had not meant to be like this…
Stubbornly, he had set up certain barriers between himself and his errant son; grimly leaving it to Critch to surmount those barriers or to remain away forever. And Critch had surmounted them. Climbed over them unscathed, and returned home in grandeur. A young man handsome as sin, and smart as paint. And –
_An' hell. Hell, wasn't he entitled to a little favorin'? A little somethin' extra? Why, hell, he was kinda like a visitor, a guest, an' a fella that didn't put himself out a mite for a guest was a pretty sorry son-of-a-bitch. An' when someone was more'n a visitor, your youngest son that you hadn't seen in years, what the hell was wrong with makin' sure that he knew he was welcome?_
…The heart is its own master, and Ike dwelt in a chamber where there was room for no other.
And he slept.
____________________
*Chapter Two*
Now, in this first hour after dawn, the village of King's Junction was wide awake and working. A hammer rang on the anvil of the blacksmith's shop. At the feed store a wagon was being loaded. Apache clerks, apron bedecked over their buckskin and levi costumes, were washing windows and sweeping the wooden walk of the general store.
As the two King brothers rode out of town, Tepaha's two granddaughters riding behind them, Arlie was greeted by and gave greeting to the Junction's various workers. But he had not a word nor a glance for Critch. Similarly, Joshie and Kay rode in haughty silence, neither acknowledging the other's presence with so much as a look.
Critch lighted a cheroot, made a tentative gesture of offering one to Arlie. The latter looked stonily straight ahead, and Critch returned the cigar to his pocket.
He knew the reason for Arlie's attitude, or thought he did: Old Ike's cozying up to him, his youngest son. Yet there was nothing new in this: Ike had been behaving thus ever since his return. So why should Arlie take such great offense this morning?
Had Arlie simply had too much of it? Or had something else happened that he, Critch, was unaware of?
He didn't know, but he knew that Arlie's anger could not be allowed to continue. Until he recovered the money, he must stay on his brother's good side.
They crossed the railroad tracks, and took one of the rutted, reddish-loam roads which led out into the ranch proper. Wordlessly, they rode through the fine spring morning, threadily misted with the early sun's lifting of the night's dew. Stalks of young, uneared corn wafted in the breeze like long lines of green flame. The heavy-sweet smell of embryonically budding alfalfa drifted to them from distant acres.
Critch sniffed it with exaggerated interest, hoping to attract his brother's attention. Failing to, he cleared his throat noisily.