The Deer Run Trail

by David R Lewis

  “We wanna git under his skin, by God, I’m the way to do it,” I said.

  “Dammit, Rube, yer gittin’ under my skin,” Arliss said. “Use your head!”

  “Hold on a minute,” Marion said. “When’s the election?”

  “Third Thursday in September,” I said.

  “Too late now for Yont to do anything but go through with it,” he said. “Ruben, let me study on this for a day or two.”

  “Forth of July is comin’ up,” I said.

  “I know it is,” he said. “You keep this under that good lookin’ hat a yours until I think it over. You hear me?”

  “I do, sir.”

  “All right then.”

  He passed out our commissions an’ badges an’ me an’ Homer an’ Arliss went back to town. Warn’t much said on the ride.

  Arliss finally spoke up when we was walkin’ back to the shop from the livery. “Rube,” he said, “if you go ahead with this, I’m afraid for ya.”

  “Thank ya, Arliss.”

  “How come you wanna risk your life for this town?”

  “I live here,” I tolt him. “That makes it as much my town as anybody else’s. I hate to see that sonofabitch settin’ on his ass an’ drinkin’ on the life blood of this place. He takes an’ don’t give anythin’ back. The bible would say that he toils not, neither does he spin. An’ that there is just wrong, Arliss. Just plumb wrong. By my way a thinkin’, if ya see somethin’ that is wrong an’ you can do somethin’ about it an’ ya don’t, you are just as wrong yerself. I don’t want to be like that. Special now. I got Miss Harmony to live up to.”

  “What the hell,” Arliss said. “I’m with ya, Rube.”

  “I knowed ya would be,” I tolt him.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  I worked on the shed the next day an’ got the porch an’ roof all framed out an’ a brick hearth layed in a wood frame. The day after, I went down to the yards in Arliss’ wagon an’ got some tar paper for the roof, then I went by the drygoods store an’ got me a nice little sprung cot with a feather mattress, two coal oil lamps, an’ a little ol’ woodstove with a nice flat top for beans an’ coffee an’ flue pipe for it with two collars. I got back an’ Arliss helped me unload that stove an’ set it on them bricks. We went to the Sweetwater for dinner.

  Miss Margie was there, struttin’ around, but not so much in my direction no more. Arliss an’ me were both about halfway through our baked chicken an’ greens when, big as life, Marion Dainiels walked in.

  “Hey, Marshal,” Arliss said, “I got your coach gun ready. Set with us.”

  Marion made out like he was surprised, walked over an’ took a chair while he nodded at two or three folks, an’ set with his back to the wall. Arliss went through the motions of makin’ sure that Marion an’ me knowed one another, an’ Marion stopped Margie’s advance by raisin’ his voice an’ tellin’ her he just wanted coffee. He an’ Arliss visited quite a bit while I mostly ate, an’ I left first to git back to work while they stayed behind.

  They come back to the shop while I was nailin’ felt an’ tarpaper on that little stretch a roof. I went ahead an’ worked some, finishin’ it up after Marion left afore I went inside. Arliss met me in the back.

  “Marion don’t think you should make your announcement to the whole town on the fourth,” he said.

  “Why not?” I asked him.

  “Too much pressure on Yont at one time,” Arliss said. “He thinks ya oughta leak it to somebody you can trust to let it out or accidental-like to somebody that’ll run straight to Yont with it. Be some sneaky about it. See what Yont does when he thinks that yer intention to run ain’t common knowledge yet.”

  “That makes sense,” I said. “Today is collection day, ain’t it?”

  Arliss sighed. “I think so,” he said. “I don’t know how much I owe yet.”

  “I’ll be out back,” I said. “If Clarence is the one that comes by, tell him I wanna see him.”

  “You think he’s ready?” Arliss asked me.

  “I believe he is,” I said.

  “Fine with me,” Arliss said. “I’ll tell him.”

  I was layin’ the floorboards on my porch when Clarence come by.

  “Yer gittin’ you a nice little place back here,” he said. “Is that there church glass in the top a them windas?”

  “Yes, it is.”

  “That’ll be purty with the sun shinin’ through,” he said. “Mister Arliss mentioned that you wanted to see me.”

  “I got a question for ya, Clarence,” I said. “You tired a helpin’ Yont steal from the folks around here yet?”

  He looked at his feet for a minute, then at my windas, then back at his feet. Finally he set his eyes on me.

  “I don’t like it none,” he said. “I just had ta git five dollars from Mister Arliss.”

  “If you don’t like it, why do ya do it?”

  “Ya don’t just quit on Sheriff Yont,” he said. “Fella named Bailey quit about three years ago, an’ he just wasn’t around no more.”

  “What happened to him?” I asked.

  “I don’t know,” Clarence said.

  “What do you think happened to him?” I asked.

  Clarence went back to lookin’ at his feet. “I’d hate to say,” he said.

  “So you just keep on.”

  “Sometimes I do git to be a real deputy,” he said. “Sometimes I do git to help folks. I like that. I was fixin’ to help you out that one night, but you didn’t need no help.”

  “Would you like to be a lawman, Clarence?” I asked. “A real one?”

  “I would, Ruben,” he said. “It would make me some proud to do a good job for folks.”

  “I need your help,” I said. “I need you to do a favor for me, an’ I need you to keep a secret. If ya doan keep the secret, could be that some good people might suffer for it.”

  He looked straight at me then, an’ helt my eyes. “You need my help,” he said, “you got my help. You need a secret kept, it’ll go with me to the grave. I swear it will.”

  Hearin’ what he said an’ seein’ the way he looked at me, kindly give me a chill. “All right,” I said. “Here’s what I want ya to do. On the fourth when there’s a lot of people millin’ around an’ havin’ fun, you go to Yont an’ tell him you heard folks talkin’ an’ somebody said they heard I was fixin’ to run for city sheriff in the next election.”

  “You want me to tell him that?” Clarence said.

  “I do.”

  “He ain’t gonna like that much,” he said.

  “That’s what I’m countin’ on. I’m a lawman, Clarence. I’m commissioned by the state an’ sworn to get rid a Yont an’ let these people have their town back. You can help with that. Once this gits settled, you can be a real deputy if you want to.”

  “That would be just fine, Ruben,” he said. “I’ll do it. I thank you for the chance to help.”

  “I thank you,” Clarence,” I said, “and I appreciate your help.”

  “You shore got it,” he said, an’ walked away. I watched him leave. He seemed some taller.

  The Forth of July come on a Monday, but folks started gittin’ ready the day before, after church an’ such. Red, white an blue banners was hung on the front of stores for two blocks of the main street east of the Red Bird an’ the Houston House. Little stands was throwed up for kids to play ring-toss games an’ the like. Three big ol’ freight wagons was brung in an’ set side by side with boards laid across ‘em to make a stage, an’ anybody that had a bench or table brought ’em outside to set in front of it.

  That evenin’ folks walked around a lot, lookin’ things over an’ jawin’ with one another. Firecrackers was throwed, little kids zipped around like waterbugs, laughin’ an’ squealin’, dogs wagged an’ barked, an’ Arliss’ shop was right in the middle of it. We stood outside, grinnin’ a lot. I went for a walk an’ several people I didn’t know spoke to me or nodded an’ smiled. There was a lady with a cart sellin’ them little fried pies
. I got me a cherry one, but she wouldn’t allow me to pay for it. I run into Mister Ponder an’ his daughter, Martha. He thanked me agin an’ tolt me they was leavin’ for home the next mornin’. Martha even give me a little hug. It was a evenin’ that was hard to resist, an’ I enjoyed it.

  The next mornin’ I needed some more rough cedar, but the yards, an’ durn near everplace else, was closed for the day. Me an Arliss took chairs outside an’ watched everthin’ gittin’ set up. In the street just a little east of us they put up a stand where you could git lemonade an’ root beer as cold as they could be. They brung up a big ol’ block out of the icehouse down by the river wrapped in a tarp an’ settin’ in the back of a freight wagon full a sawdust to keep everthin’ chilled. I got each of us a root beer. It shore tasted good. There was ladies sellin’ pie an’ cake an fudge an’ the like, little kids pitchin’ pennies at bowls an’ glasses, tryin’ to win somethin’ for mama.

  When it got on towards noon, ladies, girls mostly, started arrivin’ for the box dinner auction. All kinds a decorated boxes was set up under a sheet along the front of the stage. It was supposed to be kept secret who brought what box. Then fellers would gather around an’ bid to buy the purtiest box. Once one of ‘em got that box bought, he an’ the gal what made it an’ the meal inside it, would go off a little ways an’ have dinner together. I hadn’t been payin’ much attention, then, almost outa nowhere, Miss Harmony showed up. She was wearing a light blue dress that was fair stylish, with a little matchin’ hat, an her hair was all done up. She had on these white gloves with a pearl-lookin’ button on the wrist. I’d never seen her like that afore.

  “Good morning, Mister Hyatt,” she said.

  “Ain’t you just a picture, Miss Harmony,” Arliss said. “And good morning to you.”

  She turned to me an’ smiled. My dusty ol’ clothes come to mind an’ I felt kindly awkward.

  “Hello, Ruben,” she said.

  “Miss Harmony,” I said. “You look real purty today.”

  “Just today?” she asked.

  I felt my face git all hot an’ she chuckled at me.

  “Green with yellow flowers,” she said, an’ went on her way.

  “What’d she mean by that?” I said.

  Arliss looked at me like he kindly felt sorry. “That’s the colors of the box she made, Rube,” he said. “The biddin’ for them boxes is gonna start in about fifteen minutes. She want’s you to buy hers so the two of you can eat together.”

  “I ain’t dressed to take dinner with a girl,” I said.

  “That’s true,” Arliss said, an’ walked off.

  I hustled over to Clary’s place, washed up a mite, put on some clean pants an’ my new yella shirt, strapped on the Schofield, an’ got back as quick as I could.

  Mister Jeter, I guess ‘cause he talked so fast an’ kindly like a auctioneer when he warn’t even tryin’, was up on the stage.

  “Now ladies an’ gentlemen,” he said, “we got us some boxes up here on this stage, yessir, right up here on this stage we got us some boxes. Purty ladies made these here boxes, boys, an’ ever box here was made by one a these purty ladies you see standing down there on my left. Now then, I’m gonna pick out one a these boxes an’ you are gonna bid on that box. Whoever digs deep enough to give me the highest bid is gonna git that box an’ him an’ the lady what made it, the lady what made that box an’ him, is gonna go off a ways an’ have dinner together. They are gonna set together n’ have dinner.”

  He stopped long enough to draw breath, picked up a red an’ white box, an’ started in agin.

  “Here we go,” he said. “Boys, I got me a purty little box here, yessir, what I got here is one purty little box. Now is your chance to git this box for yourself. Now don’t forgit that ever dime we raise here today goes to the consolidated church fund for our old folks. What kinda bid am I gonna git for this box, what are ya gonna bid for it? Can I git a two-bit bid on this box, can I git a box bid a two bits? There it is! Let’s take it up to four-bits, boys. Four-bits would be a good bid on this box, can I git a four-bit bid on this box right here? Hey, well all right! That’s a brave young man over there, yessir that young man over there is right brave. I got four-bits, boys. Now I know there are some deep pockets out there, and I know you boys can reach plumb to the bottom. Let’s go fellers, afore these gals git away from ya!”

  Mister Jeter chanted away up there an’ sold three or four a them boxes, an’ the biddin’ picked up quite a bit. Then he reached down an’ picked up one that was green with yella flowers.

  I took the first bid at two-bits, an’ a fella went to four. I got it back at six bits, an’ somebody else went to a dollar. I bumped it up to a dollar an’ a half, which was the highest bid of the day, an’ I’ll be durned if another fella didn’t yell out two dollars. I kindly got caught up then an’ hollerd three dollars! Everthing got quiet.

  “Well, boys,” Mister Jeter said, slowin’ way down, his eyes scannin’ the crowd. “What we got us here is a bid. Mister Beeler has laid a three-dollar bid out here. Now, who out there is gonna dig real deep an’ give me three an’ a quarter? Anybody?”

  The bunch was quiet as a tomb. The crowd shifted, kindly nervous like.

  “Not one a you boys can do better that three?” Mister Jeter asked. “All right. I got three dollars for this box right here. I got three dollars goin’ once.”

  Nobody said nothin’.

  “I got three dollars goin’ twice!”

  You could hear a pin drop.

  “I got the last an final bid goin’ three…”

  “Four dollars!” come a yell from back a me. I turned around an’ there stood Arliss, grinnin’.

  The crowd roared.

  Arliss run that bid up to seven dollars afore I got that box bought. Me an’ Miss Harmony et some cold roast beef sandwiches an’ raisin pie over in front of the shop, jawin’ an’ smilin’ at each other. It was the best seven dollars I ever spent.

  After the box lunch was all done an’ over, bingo was set up. Cards was a penny each, an’ you could git up to ten a game. There was this wire cage up on the stage with a bunch a little numbered balls in it an’ a big ol’ board to set them balls in when they come outa the cage. Mister Jeter caught me an’ talked me into announcin’ the numbers when he pulled out a ball. If ya won, you got half the pot, the other half goin’ to the old folks fund. Almost all the players was women.

  The third game I called, Miss Harmony won. The crowd got to yellin’ that I was cheatin’ an’ laughin’ an’ such. It was fun. When we got to the seventh game, Miss Harmony won agin. Some a them ladies got outa hand, gigglin’ an’ throwin’ them dry beans at me they used to mark their cards, claimin’ that me an Miss Harmony was in cahoots to rob the festivities. I confessed that me an’ Miss Harmony had been caught red-handed, but that it had all been her idea, an’ took my leave to go down a ways an’ watch the cakewalk. Miss Harmony caught up with me before I got there an’ took my arm.

  “Folks around here like you, Ruben,” she said.

  “Just folks?” I asked her.

  She kissed me on the cheek then, an’ went back to the bingo.

  It was a fine day.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  As the day went on, the bluevests showed up, hanging’ around the edges a things an’ watchin’ everbody. Some fellas showed up with banjos an’ fiddles an’ such an struck up music. They was several cakewalks, more folks played bingo, a turkey shoot was set up at the edge a town, kids had sack races, an’ three-legged races, an’ a pet parade. A bunch a young’uns come with their dogs all dressed up with bows an’ things, one even had on a pair a pants. A pig on the end of a rope that was wearin’ a hat was the most unusual, but he made a break for it in the middle a the judgin’. Some kids chased him around for a while afore he made his getaway an’ run plumb off.

  Late in the afternoon a fella showed up from Jeff City that done magic tricks an’ told jokes to the crowd. He was right entertainin’. Several times
durin’ the evenin’ I noticed Arberry Yont starin’ at me from a distance away. He did not look happy. I reckon Clarence had talked to him.

  When it come on dark, everbody went out to where they’d had the turkey shoot an’ a bonfire was lit. The crowd gathered around an’ some of ‘em commenced to singin’ songs. Miss Harmony showed up an’ stood with me, holdin’ on to my arm an’ leanin’ into my shoulder some. After the fire burnt down quite a bit, I walked her back to the livery an’ said goodnight. She kissed me then, an’ hugged me for a minute. Then she smiled at me, touched my face, an’ went in the house.

  I kindly floated down the steps an’ back to the center of town. The street by Miz Clary’s was deserted. I was fixin’ to go inside when Homer showed up, kindly outa nowhere.

  “I know how a woman can mess up yer mind, Rube,” he said, “I shore do, but you need to git yer head outa yer ass.”

  “What?” I said

  “One a them bluevests trailed you out to the livery. I seen him from the barn. When you headed back, he was purty much on yer tail. I innerduced him to the butt a my Colt afore he could close with ya. Left him in the weeds. Don’t think I kilt him or nothin’.”

  “I never noticed a durn thing,” I said.

  “Hard to hear with yer ears up inside yer butt like they was, boy.”

  “I feel some stupid,” Homer,” I said.

  “We all been there. She kissed ya goodnight, didn’t she?”

  “Yessir, she did,” I said.

  “That explains it,” Homer said, an’ kindly disappeared back into the dark.

  I went up to my room an’ took to the bed, but I didn’t sleep much.

  The next mornin’ I went to the Sweetwater for breakfast. I just got my eggs an’ ham when Arberry Yont came stompin’ in. He seen me an’ come over.

  “Come with me,” he said. “I wanna talk to you.” Him growlin’ at me like that didn’t help my humor a lot.

  “I’m eatin’, Sheriff,” I said. “Maybe later.”

  “What are you tryin’ to pull, Beeler?”

  “I am tryin’ to eat my breakfast, Arberry,” I said. “I’d like to do that alone. I’ll be down workin’ on my shack in a while. Why doan you drop by then?”