King Blood(58)

He caught up with them a few steps short of the hotel-ranchhouse; made affable inquiries as to the cause of their wretched condition. Arlie explained nervously, and the marshal voiced suave concern.

'I imagine you're completely worn out, aren't you? Can't think of anything but eating and getting to bed? Well, gentlemen' – he looked from one to the other, dark eyes suddenly turned crystal-hard. 'I'm afraid such creature comforts will have to be postponed for a while. Indefinitely, you might say. I have some questions to ask you.'

'Uh, questions?' Arlie gulped uneasily. 'Questions 'bout what.'

'Forget it!' Critch said curtly. 'I'm eating breakfast and then I'm going to bed. The marshal can postpone his questions, or do the next best thing!'

'Which,' said Thompson, 'would be what?'

'Go shit in your hat!'

Critch reached for the door. Paused abruptly, hands half-raised, as he looked down the blue-black barrel of the marshal's forty-five.

'That remark you made,' Thompson said, 'became the epitaph of the last man who made it to me. I wonder if you'd like it to be yours?'

Critch shook his head; managed a weak grin. 'I'd prefer to postpone it, sir. Indefinitely, you might say.'

'Or until you've answered my questions?'

'Or until then. But we do have certain rights, Marshal. Before this goes any further, we're entitled to know the nature of your questions.'

'You're right, of course,' said Thompson, reholstering his gun. 'Please forgive the omission. My questions – to which I expect complete and satisfactory answers – are concerned with robbery and murder.'

_ c_

They were assembled in the hotel's bar room – the brothers and the marshal, Ike and Tepaha. A bottle and glasses of whiskey sat before the two old men. They sipped at it occasionally, their seamed faces expressionless; reflecting not the slightest interest in what was happening or what might happen.

'… well, Arlie?' the marshal was saying. 'I'm still waiting. What's your answer?'

'Sure, Marshal Harry, sure. Now, uh, lessee…' Arlie wrinkled his brow thoughtfully. 'Just a minute now. It'll come to me in a minute. Uh, mmm, uh – What was that question again, marshal?'

'The same as it was the first fifteen times I asked it! The same as it was damned near an hour ago!'

'Uh, yes, sir?'

'All right, I'll repeat it once more. Three weeks ago, give or take a day, you paid off approximately seventy thousand dollars in indebtedness against this ranch. _Now where did you get the money?'_

'Where did I get it?'

'You heard me! Yes!'_

'Mmm,' said Arlie. 'Now, lessee…'

In the old days, thought Tepaha, there was no interference from men of the law. A bad son was simply reported to his father, who dealt with him as he deemed best. For who was better prepared to sit in judgment than the father, who more able to decide the proper punishment? Surely, since it was the offender who was punished, it was he who should be judged, not the offense he committed. Surely, though errors might sometimes occur, they were much less frequent when the father, rather than the law, passed judgment. This was so, and it could hardly be otherwise. For the father's judgment was of the individual, and there was honor in it as well as knowledge. And the law's judgment was of the faceless mass (and created by that mass) – and this in the name of justice!

At any rate, thought Tepaha, there was no wrong in stealing, except from friends and family. Others who were stolen from were themselves criminal, since, by making their property stealable, they had doubtless tempted an honest man to thievery.

Similarly, it was impossible to defraud an importunate creditor. The worst that could be done to them was not as bad as they deserved. And how could it be otherwise? Trust was not something you gave a man one day, withdrew the next, and re-extended a third. This patently was not trust at all, but rather the most heinous fraud. Real trust was permanent – not something given when unneeded, and taken away when one's need was worst. This was so. Only a law which boasted of its blindness would hold otherwise.

Ol' Marshal Harry full of shit, thought Tepaha.

'For the last time, Arlie,' said Marshal Thompson. 'I'm asking for the last time – '

'I'll answer the question,' Critch said. 'Arlie got the money from me.'

'Of course, he did.' The marshal turned on him grimly. 'I wondered when he or you would get around to admitting it. He stole the money from you, and you – '

'Stole it from me?' Critch gave him a wondering look. 'Now, why in the world do you think – ' He broke off, bursting into laughter. 'I'm sorry, marshal. I'd entirely forgotten the little joke we pulled on that Indian kid. I guess you must have forgotten it too, eh, Arlie?'

'Now danged if I didn't!' Arlie declared, and immediately began whooping with laughter. 'Don't see how I coulda forgot it neither, the way we had ol' I.K. goin'. Funniest thing you ever saw, Marshal Harry!'