The Whip Hand

by Whip Hand (epub)

  "Where's my brother at? And this here ain't no time to lie."

  "He's asleep," she managed to git out.

  She was bent in the middle, holding one hand tight against her belly.

  "If you done anything to Donald, I'm gonna kill you."

  I hadn't got real mad at nobody much up till now. But now I was talking through my teeth; they was mashed together so tight. So many folks butting in was gitting on my nerves. I had a idee we was in a new mess of trouble, and all on account of Donald never done like I told him. This gal wouldn't of stole his bag without knowing what was in it. When the elevator come to a stop, I flung her out in the hall.

  "Show him to me--quick!"

  I give her arm a twist to show I meant business and she pointed down the hall to the right. We walked down thataway and I kept a hold on her arm. She stopped at number 303, like the bartender said. The door wasn't locked and I shoved her halfway across the room in front of me. I backhanded her one good one across her thieving little face. Under all the war paint her skin was getting white.

  "Scairt, ain't you? You got plenty right to be, woman."

  There was Donald, sleeping away on the bed. Naked as a jay bird and real peaceful, just like he must of been when all his money went for a walk in this gal's hands. Snoring and snorting, without a worry in the wide world. The worrying was all mine, looked as if.

  I was mad enough to dump him on the floor, but I never did. If something ever happened to me, I didn't know what in the world that kid would do by hisself. Probably git hisself run over the first time he tried to cross the street. I closed the door and pushed the bolt and then I went over and shook Donald.

  All I got was a loud snort. I grabbed a glass setting by the bed and run it full of water in the bathroom. I pulled Donald's head off'n the pillow by the hair of his head. Might be painful but he'd brung it on hisself, and he had to tell me what I had to know. I splashed the water in his face.

  Him and that bed smelt like a moonshine dump. You could of slapped whisky out of the air with a paddle. He probably wouldn't remember nothing. His eyes opened a crack and I slapped him a couple of times. He give me a stupid grin and I had to back out of his breath.

  "All right, fool," I said, "git awake and tell me what you been telling this here fancy gal."

  He mumbled but it wasn't no words I could understand. He started to lay back down, but I shook him up again.

  "Git up and git yore clothes on!" He got off'n the bed and near fell on his face, but he held on to the bedstead and started fumbling with his clothes. I wasn't helping him 'cause I was so mad I could of pinched his head off. I turned back to the gal while Donald was trying to git dressed.

  "Where'd he say he got the money?"

  "What money?" she asked.

  "You trying to tell me you ain't looked into that there suitcase?"

  "I was just taking it downstairs to check it for Donald and see if I could get him a room here, and--"

  I smacked that gal so hard her teeth rattled. Blood started to run out of her mouth. She begin to cry, and damn if Donald didn't hit me in the back of my neck with his fist! I had to put him down, which wouldn't of been hard if he was sober, let alone drunked up like he was. I held him with his arms behind his back.

  "All right, fool, now listen to me. This here gal was leaving the hotel with yore suitcase when I caught onto her. What you think she's dressed like that for? She ain't figgering on nothing but traveling. I know I'm right, and you know I always am. So, what did you tell her about our business?"

  "I didn't tell nothing, Junior, honest."

  He never looked me in the eye. He twisted his head and looked at the wall.

  "Donald, if you wasn't my flesh-and-blood brother I'd pull yore arm off at the shoulder and beat the truth out of you with the bloody end of it. You, siding with this here hustling gal against me! What did you tell her, I said?"

  He never said nothing but I seen the answer because he kept his head down and started crying. The fool! He'd done told her everything. He wasn't going to git another drink as long as he lived, or I'd wham it out of him with a tree limb.

  "Git them bags, Donald. Quit squalling! It don't help none. Git them bags like I say. Git down to the elevator door and wait on me. And if you don't do like I say this time, Donald, I pity you. I shore do."

  "You want me to take both bags, Junior?"

  "Both bags--and hurry up!"

  After he went, I locked the door again. Deeper and deeper a man gits, until--

  The gal was spitting into a towel and I seen she was missing a front tooth. She was crying hard. Who wouldn't, after coming so close to being rich and having it jerked right out of their hands?

  There wasn't nothing I could git out of her I didn't already know. She reminded me of a kid I used to know, watching his mean stepdaddy. She looked so much like him, I had to laugh. It scairt her.

  "What are you going to do?" she screamed at me when I started towards her.

  "Lay down on the floor, on yore belly."

  She was scairt to lay down but she was scairter not to. She went down on her knees like a old cow and then stretched her arms out, sort of crawling, and looking at me like maybe she was praying. Her eyes was running black paint and the crying had spread it on her face. I never had no time to piddle.

  "I said, on yore belly," I told her.

  She went down flat then, and tried to hide her face in the old rug. That was just right.

  The first time my blackjack smashed down on her head she quivered a little bit and her crying stopped. I hit her time and again on top of the head, up and down. Her head got softer and softer.

  I used the towel she'd been sucking on and wiped off my blackjack. My worries about Donald's playmate was over. I stuck the blackjack back in my pocket.

  I taken a look around to make shore Donald hadn't left nothing. Then I picked up the door key laying on the dresser and locked the door behind me when I went out. It was a good thing for Donald that he was waiting on me like I told him.

  "Did you do something to Madge, Junior? Bad, I mean?"

  "Shut yore trap!"

  When the elevator stopped, me and Donald went through the lobby and out to the sidewalk. The room clerk had his nose so deep in a funny book, we could of took the furniture with us.

  "Where we going, Junior? I'm kind of sick."

  "How sick would you be if I hadn't took yore money back?"

  "Maybe she was going to check it for me. She liked me good."

  "You got a clod for a head? She was checking out with it."

  I couldn't stay mad at Donald, though. He didn't know no better. I shore did worry about him, the little fool. "I'm so tired, Junior. Where we going? Cain't we get a "The walk will do you good. You'll git plenty of riding. We're going to the bus station and you're catching the next bus back to Oklahoma."

  "I ain't going unless you do."

  "You ain't got nothing to say about it, Donald."

  "I can get off, first time the bus stops. I want to stay with you, and Leonie, when she comes.

  "I cain't let you out of my sight for five minutes without you blabbing everything to somebody. I cain't watch you all time like a kid playing with a straight razor, Donald. You ain't got no business in a place like Big D."

  "I didn't know I was saying all them things, Junior. Honest I didn't. I got drunk, and Madge she got me all excited. I just didn't think, with all that whisky in me, Junior."

  "That's just what I'm a-telling you, Donald. You shore didn't think."

  "Don't make me go back to Oklahoma. I promise, cross my heart, I won't never drink no more whisky."

  I knowed he meant what he said right then, but there wasn't no telling if he'd remember it a day or a week. I'd just have to watch closer and keep him with me all the time. I never really wanted to send him away. I didn't like to think what not seeing Donald would be like. We'd been walking all the time we was talking, and before he knew it, we was at the bus station.

  "I'm going
in here and call Leonie on the phone, long distance. I'll see what she's got to say, and maybe I won't send you home. I ain't making no promises about it."

  "Can I talk to her too, Junior?"

  "We'll see."

  I shoved the door open and when we walked into the station, I seen old El Mercer setting on a bench in the waiting room. I thought he'd be long gone before now. He was bent over like a wearisome old man, holding his head in his hands. Maybe he was drunk, and I didn't want to listen to him. I'd had me enough drunks for one day.

  "Look, Junior! Yonder's El!"

  "I ain't blind, Donald."

  He went over towards where El was washing his face in his dry hands. Hell with El. I went into a phone booth and asked Central to git me Sulphide, Oklahoma. I didn't even git her straight on who I wanted before El come a-trying to git in the booth with me. He was so excited I thought he was gonna climb on top and try to come in through the roof. He got his head in the door.

  "Goddammit, El! I'm trying to call long distance!"

  I put my hand in his face and pushed his head out of the phone booth. He squealed like a stuck pie and grabbed his nose with both hands like I'd half-killed him.

  Finally Central was talking to Sulphide, and then she had a hard time gitting Leonie to the phone. Had to call Mrs. Allister and ask her to run git Leonie. Leonie and her folks never had no phone. And all this time El was acting like he was going plumb slapdab crazy.

  I could see him prancing back and forth outside the booth. He was making hurry-up signs and begging me to come on out. I still thought the old coot was drunk.

  I finally heard Leonie answering and after a little argument with Central, I put in the change she said it would cost. Leonie was shore excited.

  "Leonie, this is Junior--Shore is. I'm in Dallas. That's what I'm phoning you about--Naw, ain't nothing wrong-- Now looky here, suppose you let me talk a minute and I'll tell you--Dang it, Leonie, I done told you there ain't nothing wrong. I got me a job here in Dallas--What kind of a job? Oh, selling insurance. Now listen, Leonie, you got to catch a bus and come down to Dallas. Right away, soon's you can. I'll meet you here at the bus station. Nothing to be scairt of, now. If I ain't right in plain sight when you git here, you just set and wait a spell in the station till I show up--Yeah. And Leonie, bring all yore clothes. We're a-staying--'Course we're gitting married.-- Dang it, yes, I got plenty of money, I tell you--Okay, Leonie, honey, tomorrow morning, then--Listen, I got to hang up now. Or this'll cost me more money--No, dammit, I ain't drunk and I'll be here--Now would I be doing this if I didn't love you? I got to go now--Good-by, Leonie."

  I come out of the phone booth and old El collared me. He was shooting off his mouth so fast there wasn't no sense to what he said.

  "Now, cool off, El, and tell me again slow and quiet. Who's been sticking fingers in yore nose, and for what?"

  When I got it straight, it was worse than I'd figgered. Some skunk had done stole every penny of El's money. But he wasn't satisfied. The crazy fool wanted to meet me and Donald, thinking he could pit our'n too. I was beginning to think a man with money ain't got no friends a-tall.

  Before El got done talking, I knowed who the feller with the big idees was. Couldn't be nobody but the one laying in El's old car that very minute where I'd left him with the little gal. I seen more trouble coming.

  "El, you old fool! I swear I should of kept all yore money--and yore's too, Donald--and only give it out to you one dollar at a time. I never seen folks so easy to take money away from, a whole suitcase full at a time!"

  "Gee, he never stole Donald's money too, did he, Junior?"

  "Naw, not him. I had to git Donald's away from a gal what put him to sleep in her bed while she snuck out with it."

  "I shore hope you can git mine back, Junior. Can you, Junior. Huh, Junior?"

  "Shut up, El."

  The little gal was out there in the car with this feller. When he got found, he was gonna tell the cops all about El. How did I know he knowed all about us when I left him out there? When the cops knowed about El it wouldn't take them long to latch onto him; and with a little slapping around I knowed El would tell them all they wanted to know about me and Donald.

  Trouble shore was a-hounding me, and what hurt me so bad was not none of it was my own making. But no matter who brung it on me, something had to be did.

  "What did that feller look like, El?" I asked him.

  "He's a big feller, about yay tall and all man. And he's got black hair."

  "That's the same feller, all right."

  "You mean he's done been after you too, Junior?"

  "I mean he probably thought he was. El. Listen to what I'm saying, you hear? Me and Donald, we got to go and git him. I think I can find him. You might as well know it, El--you done fixed it where I got to kill a man, you old fool."

  "But he was so doggone anxious to help me check my--"

  "Shut up! That ain't helping to kill him. I'd make you do it; but I figger you'd give him the clothes you're wearing and maybe kill the wrong man besides."

  "I'm sorry, Jun--"

  "Dammit, shut up! And just listen, like I say. If he ain't where he's supposed to be, I got to find him wherever he's at. You wait here. Iff'n I miss him and he shows up to meet you, you take him out to the fair grounds. Cain't kill him in the middle of Dallas. We'll meet you out there and I'll figger out how."

  "Whereabouts at the fairgrounds, Junior?" El asked.

  Donald stuck in his two-bits worth then.

  "Let's meet at that there Twirly Whip," he said. He wanted to git on that ride again. But I was in a stew and that was as good as any place.

  "That's where we'll meet, El, at the Twirly Whip. If he comes back here, I mean."

  "Suppose he don't?"

  "El, use yore head! If he don't, you'll just be waiting for him, ain't that right? And that's how I'll know where to find you again if I catch him out where I'm going now."

  "Oh. Oh, yeah. I understand now, Junior.'

  "The thing a-worrying me ain't likely to enter yore fool head, El. That's if he ain't where I'm going and he don't come back to meet you. No matter where that feller's at, we got to find him. We got to--Come on, Donald."

  We left after El whined at me to try and find his money before I killed that feller.

  I shore was disgusted. Donald gitting drunk and telling everything and El telling everything without even being drunk. And me trying to git around fast enough to keep things all straightened out for them. I ain't never been so tired in all my born days. And they kept hauling me in deeper all the time. There didn't seem to be no end of it in sight.

  All I knowed was that if I didn't git it all to a stopping place soon, it might even git to be too much for me and something terrible might happen to all of us. And it was me that planned everything in the first place, so there just wasn't nothing else to do but git it straightened out.

  Chapter 10

  Bill Brown

  I TRIED to turn my head and felt like someone was pounding a thousand needles into my scalp with a one-by-four plank.

  I cranked my neck around, a half-inch at a time, until I could get one hand up to the back of my head. My fingers traced the dried blood matted in my hair and I was pretty sure somebody had practiced on me with a sap.

  I opened my eyes. I closed them again, for a full minute. No one had hit me yet, so I became very brave and, lying there, started looking around. I had a lower berth-- doubled up on the floor boards in the rear of an old sedan. A blanket-wrapped bundle occupied the rear seat.

  The blanket wasn't the thing for concealing outlines, so I unrolled it to see who was keeping me company. I realized immediately that I was still an important cog in a kidnapping machine. Dallas was something of a disappointment to me.

  Disturbing the small figure as little as possible, I rolled the bundle back up. Using the rest of my strength, I raised my head until my eyes were on a level with the window. It was a quiet, peaceful neighborhood, with wide lawns and large
homes. I used a dirty rag from the floor boards and wiped the door handles when I got out.

  I tried not to stagger, but so does a drunk. A sprinkler was spraying away on the nearest lawn, so I went that way. I shoved my throbbing head down into cool mist. I soaked, then had a long drink. It helped a little and washed some of the fuzz from my brain, if I still had one.

  I knew I had to find a telephone directory. I needed to make a call, but it was the address I wanted because the call had to be in person. I walked a few miserable blocks and found a drugstore. I went in.

  "You got any Bromo?" I asked the soda clerk. "Yessir!"

  "Keep 'em coming then, till I tell you to stop." He was a bit skeptical, but cooperative. I was his only customer, and it occurred to me few people in this neighborhood would condescend to shop in a corner drugstore. Probably a fast-delivery business, mostly. After four sizzling glasses of the stuff, I held up my hand for the red light. "What's the use?" I said. "Hang a big one on last night, sir?" "You could say that. Got a newspaper?" He reached under the cigar counter and came up with The Morning News. There it was, on the front page. I made my burning eyes focus on it:

  DIXON CHILD BELIEVED DEAD!!

  Police Lieutenant Fred Campbell, in an interview with a Morning News reporter, stated, 'We are doing everything in our power and bringing to bear every facility of one of the finest modem crime detection departments of any great city in the United States, to apprehend and bring to justice these nefarious, unscrupulous kidnappers. However, indications from certain sources, which, for obvious reasons, I cannot reveal at this time, leave us scant hope that little Mary Ann Dixon will be found alive.'

  What a jerk--but true to form for frustrated, explaining policemen the world over. I read a few lines more.

  Mr. Galin Dixon, the wealthy, broken-hearted father of little Mary Ann, will not admit reporters. According to a statement received from his oldest daughter, the popular Miss Kay Dixon, Mr. Dixon is under the care of his private physician.

  And blah, blah, blah.

  I laid down the paper and walked across the store to the phone booth. I found the listing of the wealthy but broken-hearted father of little Mary Ann and copied the address on a slip of paper from my wallet. I went back to the fountain and motioned to the clerk.