King Blood(44)

'So is time,' Marshal Thompson said drily. 'Suppose we use no more of it than we have to. Satisfactory?'

'Well – well, sure. I mean, yes, sir.'

'Thank you. I gather then that you were alone when you discovered the body, correct? And you have told no one else about it. Very well, then. That leaves us but one thing to do, at the moment. A rather unpleasant chore. Gentlemen, if you will don your gloves and give me your assistance…'

…The body was rolled into the tarpaulin, placed on the handcar and transported back to the starting point of the morning's expedition. They loaded it into the coffin that was waiting for it on the evening's west-bound train, and the marshal and his deputy nephew took the same train back to El Reno.

Deputy Thompson had a number of questions and suggestions for Marshal Thompson as they rode through the night. Marshal Thompson, after a considerable silence, had a single suggestion for Deputy Thompson: to shut up or leave their stateroom.

The young man promptly stood up. 'Sorry,' he said stiffly. 'I didn't mean to offend you.'

'Oh, sit down, sit down,' sighed his uncle. 'Don't be so quick to get on your high horse, Jim. If you want to continue in public office, you'll have to remember two things. Touchiness is a luxury you can never afford; that's number one. Secondly, you'll never make yourself popular by telling a man something he already knows, and asking him questions he can't answer.'

'I didn't realize I was doing that. Not that I look upon myself as a participant in a popularity contest.'

'But you are, Jim. You most certainly are. I'm both judge and audience in the contest, and the moment you cease to be popular with me, I declare you disqualified.' He gave his nephew a lengthy look, his dark eyes gradually becoming thoughtful. 'I'm joking, of course, Jim; no one, relative or not, has to cozy up to me to hold his job. In fact, it would be the quickest way he could lose it. But I do think it's time you were moving on to something else – something better.'

Deputy Thompson gave his uncle a steady stare; at last, turned it toward the window and the dark panorama beyond. There was the clangor of bells, a blur of red and white lights as they rattled through a crossing. The engine whistled eerily, fearfully, as its headlights swept the prairie and found nothing but emptiness.

'I'm thirty years old, Uncle Harry. I don't have much time left to start carving out a career…'

'How true,' his uncle said solemnly. 'In another year or so you'll be tripping over your long gray beard. Wait, now, wait!' he laughed, holding up a hand. 'I mean to see you started on a career, Jim. I mean to do just that. So if you'll stop getting huffy, and listen…'

The Territory had been first thrown open to settlement in 1889, he pointed out. (The Territory, as opposed to Old Oklahoma, on the east, which had been moved into some fifty years before by the Five Civilized tribes.) But Deputy James Sherman Thompson had actually seen very little of it, his movements being limited by his job, and that little had become so heavily populated – relatively speaking – as to limit opportunities for a bright young man. Such a man could do well to hie himself elsewhere, to the Big Pasture country, or the Unassigned lands, or one of the other areas recently opened to settlement or soon to be opened.

'Now, the spot I have in mind for you, Jim, is down in the Kiowa-Caddo-Comanche country. I can line up a number of people who will help you there, and with your experience as a deputy marshal and your ability to make friends – How the hell do you make them anyway, Jim? I'm always amazed that anyone as stiff-necked and opinionated as you could have even one friend.'

Deputy Thompson denied that he was either stiff-necked or opinionated. He did, however, have certain beliefs, and he could not, in all honesty, refrain from letting them be known to those who – having lacked his advantages – might hold contrary and erroneous views.

'As for making friends, I suppose it's simply a matter of liking people. I've met very few men that I couldn't find some good in; something that I could honestly like. I like them well enough to remember their names, and the names of their wives and children, and – '

'And,' the marshal nodded his understanding, 'that's all you need to do, to shine the light of recognition upon a world of strangers. I doubt that there lives a man with soul so dead that he doesn't pray for deliverance from anonymity.'

His nephew's blue eyes lighted up with appreciation; he threw back his head and laughed, a laugh so utterly ingenuous and wholesomely good-humored as to warm the marshal's pragmatist's heart.

'Jim,' he said. 'Dammit all, Jim…!'

'Yes, sir?'

Marshal Thompson hesitated, started to speak, shook his head. After a time, he said, 'Getting back to the subject of the Kiowa-Caddo-Comanche country, I think the sooner you're down there the better. My friends will give you all possible assistance. With their help, your peace officer's experience and your talent for making friends, you should be a shoo-in for sheriff when the county government is set up.'