"Maybe too. I'd try not to."
Mr. John was thinking about Nick when he went out to the back counter where the two men were waiting for him. He looked them over as he stood there and he didn't like either of them. He had always disliked the local man Evans and had no respect for him but he sensed that the downstate man was dangerous. He had not analyzed it yet but he saw the man had very flat eyes and a mouth that was tighter than a simple tobacco chewer's mouth needed to be. He had a real elk's tooth too on his watch chain. It was a really fine tusk from about a five-year-old bull. It was a beautiful tusk and Mr. John looked at it again and at the over-large bulge the man's shoulder holster made under his coat.
"Did you kill that bull with that cannon you're carrying around under your arm?" Mr. John asked the down-state man.
The down-state man looked at Mr. John unappreciatively.
"No," he said. "I killed that bull out in the thoroughfare country in Wyoming with a Winchester 45-70."
"You're a big-gun man, eh?" Mr. John said. He looked under the counter. "Have big feet, too. Do you need that big a cannon when you go out hunting kids?"
"What do you mean, kids," the down-state man said. He was one ahead.
"I mean the kid you're looking for."
"You said kids," the down-state man said.
Mr. John moved in. It was necessary. "What's Evans carry when he goes after a boy who's licked his own boy twice? You must be heavily armed, Evans. That boy could lick you, too."
"Why don't you produce him and we could try it," Evans said.
"You said kids, Mr. Jackson," the down-state man said. "What made you say that?"
"Looking at you, you cock-sucker," Mr. John said. "You splayfooted bastard."
"Why don't you come out from behind that counter if you want to talk like that?" the down-state man said.
"You're talking to the United States Postmaster," Mr. John said. "You're talking without witnesses except for Turd-Face Evans. I suppose you know why they call him Turd-Face. You can figure it out. You're a detective."
He was happy now. He had drawn the attack and he felt now as he used to feel in the old days before he made a living from feeding and bedding resorters who rocked in rustic chairs on the front porch of his hotel while they looked out over the lake.
"Listen, Splayfoot, I remember you very well now. Don't you remember me, Splayzey?"
The down-state man looked at him. But he did not remember him.
"I remember you in Cheyenne the day Tom Horn was hanged," Mr. John told him. "You were one of the ones that framed him with promises from the association. Do you remember now? Who owned the saloon in Medicine Bow when you worked for the people that gave it to Tom? Is that why you ended up doing what you're doing? Haven't you got any memory?"
"When did you come back here?"
"Two years after they dropped Tom."
"I'll be goddamned."
"Do you remember when I gave you that bull tusk when we were packing out from Greybull?"
"Sure. Listen, Jim, I got to get this kid."
"My name's John," Mr. John said. "John Packard. Come on in back and have a drink. You want to get to know this other character. His name is Crut-Face Evans. We used to call him Turd-Face. I just changed it now out of kindness."
"Mr. John," said Mr. Evans. "Why don't you be friendly and cooperative."
"I just changed your name, didn't I?" said Mr. John. "What kind of cooperation do you boys want?"
In the back of the store Mr. John took a bottle off a low shelf in the corner and handed it to the down-state man.
"Drink up, Splayzey," he said. "You look like you need it."
They each took a drink and then Mr. John asked, "What are you after this kid for?"
"Violation of the game laws," the down-state man said.
"What particular violation?"
"He killed a buck deer the twelfth of last month."
"Two men with guns out after a boy because he killed a deer the twelfth of last month," Mr. John said.
"There've been other violations."
"But this is the one you've got proof of."
"That's about it."
"What were the other violations?"
"Plenty."
"But you haven't got proof."
"I didn't say that," Evans said. "But we've got proof on this."
"And the date was the twelfth?"
"That's right," said Evans.
"Why don't you ask some questions instead of answering them?" the down-state man said to his partner. Mr. John laughed. "Let him alone, Splayzey," he said. "I like to see that great brain work."
"How well do you know the boy?" the down-state man asked.
"Pretty well."
"Ever do any business with him?"
"He buys a little stuff here once in a while. Pays cash."
"Do you have any idea where he'd head for?"
"He's got folks in Oklahoma."
"When did you see him last?" Evans asked.
"Come on, Evans," the down-state man said. "You're wasting our time. Thanks for the drink, Jim."
"John," Mr. John said. "What's your name, Splayzey?"
"Porter. Henry J. Porter."
"Splayzey, you're not going to do any shooting at that boy."
"I'm going to bring him in."
"You always were a murderous bastard."
"Come on, Evans," the down-state man said. "We're wasting time in here."
"You remember what I said about the shooting," Mr. John said very quietly.
"I heard you," the down-state man said.
The two men went out through the store and unhitched their light wagon and drove off. Mr. John watched them go up the road. Evans was driving and the down-state man was talking to him.
"Henry J. Porter," Mr. John thought. "The only name I can remember for him is Splayzey. He had such big feet he had to have made-to-order boots. Splayfoot they called him. Then Splayzey. It was his tracks by the spring where that Nester's boy was shot that they hung Tom for. Splayzey. Splayzey what? Maybe I never did know. Splayfoot Splayzey. Splayfoot Porter? No, it wasn't Porter."
"I'm sorry about those baskets, Mrs. Tabeshaw," he said. "It's too late in the season now and they don't carry over. But if you'd be patient with them down at the hotel you'd get rid of them."
"You buy them, sell at the hotel," Mrs. Tabeshaw suggested.
"No. They'd buy them better from you," Mr. John told her. "You're a fine looking woman."
"Long time ago," Mrs. Tabeshaw said.
"Suzy, I'd like to see you," Mr. John said.
In the back of the store he said, "Tell me about it."
"I told you already. They came for Nickie and they waited for him to come home. His youngest sister let him know they were waiting for him. When they were sleeping drunk Nickie got his stuff and pulled out. He's got grub for two weeks easy and he's got his rifle and young Littless went with him."
"Why did she go?"
"I don't know, Mr. John. I guess she wanted to look after him and keep him from doing anything bad. You know him."
"You live up by Evans's. How much do you think he knows about the country Nick uses?"
"All he can. But I don't know how much."
"Where do you think they went?"
"I wouldn't know, Mr. John. Nickie knows a lot of country."
"That man with Evans is no good. He's really bad."
"He isn't very smart."
"He's smarter than he acts. The booze has him down. But he's smart and he's bad, I used to know him."
"What do you want me to do."
"Nothing, Suzy. Let me know about anything."
"I'll add up my stuff, Mr. John, and you can check it."
"How are you going home?"
"I can get the boat up to Henry's Dock and then get a rowboat from the cottage and row down and get the stuff. Mr. John, what will they do with Nickie?"
"That's what I'm worried about."
"They were talking about getting him put in the reform school."
"I wish he hadn't killed that buck."
"So does he. He told me he was reading in a book about how you could crease something with a bullet and it wouldn't do any harm. It would just stun it and Nickie wanted to try it. He said it was a damn fool thing to do. But he wanted to try it. Then he hit the buck and broke its neck. He felt awful about it. He felt awful about trying to crease it in the first place."
"I know."
"Then it must have been Evans found the meat where he had it hung up in the old springhouse. Anyway somebody took it."
"Who could have told Evans?"
"I think it was just that boy of his found it. He trails around after Nick all the time. You never see him. He could have seen Nickie kill the buck. That boy's no good, Mr. John. But he sure can trail around after anybody. He's liable to be in this room right now."
"No," said Mr. John. "But he could be listening outside."
"I think he's after Nick by now," the girl said.
"Did you hear them say anything about him at the house?"
"They never mentioned him," Suzy said.
"Evans must have left him home to do the chores. I don't think we have to worry about him till they get home to Evans's."
"I can row up the lake to home this afternoon and get one of our kids to let me know if Evans hires anyone to do the chores. That will mean he's turned that boy loose."
"Both the men are too old to trail anybody."
"But that boy's terrible, Mr. John, and he knows too much about Nickie and where he would go. He'd find them and then bring the men up to them."
"Come in back of the post office," Mr. John said.