“‘Bout the only luck he did have. Wind taking that snow ever’ which way. I was damn sure no one could come up from the other side.” Fenton got up and stirred the fire. “Good you got out when you did, Ty. Don’t know what you’d be feeding them mules by now.”
Ty took another sip, relieved it didn’t burn so much this time. They played some of Cody Jo’s new music and Rosie came over and got him to dance. Buck and Angie were already dancing, and Rosie was so energetic he forgot all about how awkward he must look. When they put on the next record, Angie said she wanted to dance with “Mr. Intrepid.”
“Learn these steps, Ty.” She started in to lead as soon as the record began. “No fun bein’ a wallflower.”
Cody Jo brought out a pot of chili, and they ate it with slices of elk steak and more of Rosie’s bread. Ty found himself dancing to almost every record they played. Later in the evening they got Artie Shaw’s swing band on the radio. When they played “Green Eyes,” Ty found himself dancing with Cody Jo, and after a few steps the music seemed a part of him. He hardly felt her in his arms, though he knew the music wouldn’t mean nearly so much if she weren’t. The others stopped and watched. When the song ended Angie and Rosie clapped, Angie saying Ty won the prize as best dancer.
Cody Jo went to Fenton and took his arm. “Well,” she said. “I believe he does have it. I wasn’t so sure at first.”
“What’s he got?” Rosie was winding the phonograph, putting on another swing record. “Besides a big appetite?”
“Rhythm.” Cody Jo watched Angie go over to Ty, swaying in place while she waited for the next record. “That’s what he’s got.”
“Packers don’t have a hell of a lot of time for dancin’.” Fenton started in to dance with Cody Jo as the music began. “But when he’s out of the woods, you girls can take over. Might need a dance or two by then.”
Ty danced a bit longer, but nothing seemed as right as the dance with Cody Jo. After awhile he decided to go to bed and read. He took a lantern and went out through the snow, surprised by how hard it was to stay on the packed path.
The next morning he was thirsty and dry-mouthed and couldn’t remember whether he’d read before he slept or not. He went into the barn to pee, went outside and got some snow to eat. He ate more as he got dressed, dressing fast in the cold. He ate still more as he walked up to the house, saw where he’d gone off the trail the night before.
Cody Jo was talking with Fenton in the kitchen. She smiled at Ty as she poured him a glass of juice. “You had a time last night. Told you those dancing lessons would pay off.”
“Horace’s old bunkhouse ain’t too bad.” Fenton put a mug of coffee in front of Ty. “Like your room in the barn. Better. Electrified.”
Ty drank the juice and sipped at the coffee. He wasn’t sure what Fenton was talking about. Then Fenton said something about the Adams’s chores, and it came to him that they were talking about where he’d live while he went to school.
“It’s a place to study, Ty.” Cody Jo put a plate of scrambled eggs and toasted slices of Rosie’s bread in front of him. “Etta will feed you.You’ll need to eat.” She smiled again. “Even when you feel a little funny.”
Two days later the roads opened. Spec showed up in Tommy Yellowtail’s pickup and Ty got a ride into town with him. Tommy hadn’t gotten better, and though he had faith in the medicine man, Spec wanted all the bases covered. He’d even filled out the forms for some government doctoring, much as he hated to do it.
“Papers and more papers.” He spit out into the snow as they drove. “Then they act as though you’re lucky to be allowed.” He stopped at the bar in Seeley Lake and had a beer, buying one for Ty too, the bartender looking at Ty before deciding there was too much snow to worry about laws.
“Thought you quit this.” Ty took a sip of beer, trying to keep Spec from fretting so much.
“I did. In the mountains.” Spec bought more bottles for the trip. “It ain’t worth it out here.”
“Must of took the cutoff.” Spec was sipping beer as he drove. “Stuck a log in a tree for you.”
“That saved me. I was about to ride on past it.”
“You would of found the way. Or that Smoky mare would of.You do good in the woods.”
“Well,” Ty looked out at the banks of snow. “I’m not so sure.”
Spec dropped Ty off at the department store. Cody Jo had made him promise to buy something that didn’t look so worn before he went to the Adams’s. Spec wrote down the address of a bar where Ty could find him and went off to the government offices. An agent had promised to meet with him even though it was Saturday. Ty worried about that. The beer didn’t seem to be calming Spec down.
The clerk tried to sell Ty some Levis Ty thought were too short. “Cowboys like ’em that way.” The man eyed Ty’s worn clothes. “So they don’t drag in all that cow shit.” Ty bought a pair one size up anyway, adding a shirt to that, and left, the man still telling him things he needed as he walked out the door.
He had time, so he walked along Main Street looking in store windows. When he came to an outfitter’s supply store, he went in to look at the panniers. A man in an apron came from the back and stood there, smoking and looking at Ty.
“Snow drive you out of your mountains?” The man stubbed out his cigarette. “You boys always look a little lost come winter. Or drunk. It’s a toss-up.”
Ty asked some questions about the panniers, saying they didn’t look as stout as the ones he used. The man smiled, lit another smoke.
“You work for that big bastard Pardee? He sings the same tune about them panniers.”
“I do.” Ty was pleased to be identified with Fenton. “Ours has a little more leather. They get worked awful hard.”
“To tell the truth I do too, every time Pardee stops in and tells me to cinch this up or add leather there. It’s a lot more pleasant to do business with that wife of his. She sure lights a place up.”
Ty stayed on awhile, enjoying the man’s stories about how frugal Fenton could be, how Cody Jo could get him to do what he’d just said he wouldn’t. When he left he passed a bar where the nickelodeon was playing one of Cody Jo’s favorites. He leaned against the building and listened, wishing he could see the mountains lifting on the outskirts of town. The clouds were in and he couldn’t see them at all.
He walked on, thinking of different campsites, the miles he’d covered tracking horses, the way the sun broke through the clouds and gave such color to the Missions. And he thought about how Fenton and Cody Jo had taken care of him: Fenton coming for him through the snow, Cody Jo feeding him and cutting his hair and giving him books to read. He thought about dancing with her too. She’d shown him you don’t even need to think when you dance with someone like Cody Jo. He thought maybe when things were right, you didn’t have to think about them at all. But then he thought that could be another thing you never got to know for sure.
He checked the address Spec had given him, thinking he’d rather be headed for one of his camps in the mountains. Or for one of Cody Jo’s dinners in the big log building Fenton had built for her up in the Swan.
Missoula (1937–1941)
Ty figured out that what he learned from Spec in the mountains was a lot more useful than what he learned from Spec in Missoula.
16
The Bar of Justice
It was dark when Ty finally got there. But he found nothing barlike, just a medium-sized brick building, the porch tilted where the ground had settled. Other plain-looking brick and clapboard buildings were scattered along the street, no stores in sight at all, and only one streetlight, its glow filtering across melting banks of dirty snow. There were a few cars in front of the building. Tommy’s pickup wasn’t one of them.
Again Ty checked the address, making sure before he crossed the trampled snow and rapped on the door. A voice called, and he opened the door to see a lone man playing solitaire. The man turned his cards twice more, putting down an ace before looking up at Ty.
“Spec’s buddy?” He got the cigar going again. “Said you was green.” He went back to his cards. “There.” He jabbed over his shoulder. “Or upstairs.”
Ty was so relieved the man knew Special Hands, he didn’t think to ask any questions. He went past him into a larger room where there was a small bar against the back wall. Behind it was an open door leading to some stairs. A nickelodeon was against one wall, a few tables and chairs near it. Except for three bar stools, there was no other furniture. At one of the tables a man sat reading a paper and drinking coffee.
A woman was behind the bar, chewing gum and cleaning glasses. Ty went over to her and asked if she knew Spec.
“Know you too. Want a beer? A whiskey?” She looked him over. “How ’bout a quickie?”
She was younger than he’d thought, fleshy and pleasant faced. He wasn’t sure he’d heard what she’d said.
“Well, I’ll . . .”
“Whatever, hon. You name it. Spec said you wasn’t to pay for nothing.” She wiped the bar. “I’m Jeanie. Just say what you want.” “Would you have a Coke? It was a long walk.”
“Might.” She took a longer look at him. “Your buddy’s havin’ a good old time.” She slid him a Coke. “Told us about you.” She took her gum from her mouth as a man came in, sat at a table. “Didn’t tell us you was cute.”
She left to see what the man wanted, coming back to get a beer from the cooler. “I’ll be waitin’. Just ask for Jeanie.” She went back, put the beer in front of the man, and sat.
It was quiet as Ty sipped his Coke. He was thankful when the man got up and put some money in the nickelodeon. The music was twangy, not like Cody Jo’s, but the noise made him feel more comfortable.
Two other men came in and a big, smiling woman came out from the back, calling them by name, laughing before pouring a jigger of whiskey and opening a bottle of beer for each. The men went off to one of the tables, and a wiry woman came in and sat down with them.
“ Yo u’re Spec’s friend.” The big woman looked at Ty. “Got orders to take real good care of you.” She opened a beer, came partway around the bar to give it to him. “This here one’s on me. You just tell me what you want, hon. Beth’s the one who’ll find it.” She winked at him and went back, putting some ice in a glass and pouring whiskey over it, stirring it with her finger. “Or I’ll take you up myself.” She lifted the glass at Ty and took a sip. “You boys never take much time.”
It came to Ty then. He felt his face flushing. “Oh,” he said. He got up from the bar stool and looked at the woman. Sat back down on the bar stool again. “I didn’t know . . . Is this place called The Bar of Justice?” He looked behind him at the nickelodeon, at the tables. Jasper had told him about such a place one night in the mountains; he was sorry he’d only partly listened, thinking Jasper was into the cooking sherry again.
“Ain’t no soda fountain,” Beth smiled. “What’d you think?”
“There’s no sign. Spec just give me this address.” He still had the crumpled paper in his hand; Beth looked at it, threw it away.
“He’s a caution.” She didn’t seem too happy about Ty’s confusion.
She leaned across the bar. Ty could smell sweetish powder. “Sip on that beer there, honey. Tell me how old Fenton’s doing. He ain’t been around here since I was skinny.”
“Well,” Ty took a swallow of beer and tried to tell her about Fenton, about the mountains, watching her as he talked, not sure she understood. It was hard to keep straight what he was saying himself. The men would call out for drinks and she would be off to take care of them. She seemed to know them all, and Ty felt funny sitting there at the bar all alone with his beer, drinking it faster than he meant to.
More men were coming in. Ty saw that Jeanie was gone. But three or four other women were there now, some of them dancing with the men, their shiny dresses swinging out, showing bare legs.
He was almost through his second beer when Spec showed up, putting his arm around Beth, pulling her close. “There he is,” he said, looking at Ty. “Only bastard I know can shoe a bronc mule, cross a snowed-out pass, and keep Fenton Pardee happy all at the same time.”
“I sure didn’t do them things at the same time.” Ty looked at Beth. “Don’t believe I’ve satisfied Fenton yet.”
“She knows all about satisfying Fenton.” Spec gave Beth a squeeze. “Hustle up some of them boilermakers. Ty’s thirsty.”
“I’ll stick with these beers.” Ty didn’t know what a boilermaker was anyway. And he didn’t like something in Spec’s voice. He reached for his money but Spec grabbed his wrist.
“You ain’t spending a goddamned penny.” Spec’s voice was hard. “This is my deal.” Ty looked so surprised Spec had to smile. “Have a hell of a time, kid.” He threw crumpled bills on the bar. “Got all this money from them government people. Have a drink on them bastards.”
Beth’s eyes hadn’t left Spec. She seemed relieved when he let go of Ty’s wrist. She put two jiggers of whiskey on the bar, a beer beside each.
Spec drank his jigger in a gulp, then took a long pull of beer. “Damn.” He brought the bottle down hard on the bar.
“You don’t have to drink that fast, honey,” Beth said to Ty. “Spec’s way ain’t for everybody.”
“He’s been learning things from me in the mountains. No reason to stop here.” Spec handed Ty the other jigger. “Is there, Ty?”
Ty sipped at the whiskey, felt his lips burn.
“You boys go sit.” She put the drinks on a little tray, took them over to a table. “Take it easy, Spec. Ty ain’t sure what hit him.”
“He sure as hell will be,” Spec said. “Take you another taste, Ty. That shit improves.” Beth shook her head and got up to serve someone at the bar. Spec followed her and came back with another jigger of whiskey, lifting it at Ty.
Spec was right: Ty’s whisky didn’t burn as much the second time.
They talked, easing down their whiskey with beer, Spec relaxing as Ty told him about coming over the pass in the storm.
“Had you a hell of a year, Ty,” Spec said. “You do good in the woods.”
“Fenton wants me to keep at it.” Ty wiped at some beer that had spilled on the table. “You be around next year? Show me some things?”
“Teach you to hunt. If I can get you free of them mules.” He seemed to consider something. “Who the hell is Natty Bumpus? They never did say.”
“Cody Jo says he’s a hunter . . . in a book.”
“In a book?”
“Never said the book.”
“Well,” Spec said. “Shit on that.”
A girl with dark eyes that slanted off toward dark shiny hair sat down. Ty thought she couldn’t be much older than he was. She was so pretty he couldn’t keep from looking at her, watching as she took Spec’s whiskey and drank it in one swallow.
“Thought we was going to have a party.” The girl wiped her mouth, her lips scarcely moving when she spoke.
“This here is Ty,” Spec said. “And this here is a party. Got my government money. Got my mountain buddy.” He got up for some more whiskey. “Shit goddamn,” he said, going to the bar.
“Ain’t he a hell of a thing?” the girl said, drinking some of Ty’s whiskey.
“Loretta enjoys a drink.” Spec returned with more whiskey, Beth following him with beer.
“Don’t you and Loretta drink too fast, Spec.” Beth put down the beer and messed up Ty’s hair. “Ty’s just gettin’ to know us.”
“Loretta is why I was late. We had a hell of a time.”
“I guess.” Loretta looked at Ty. “Wanna dance?” She didn’t look very interested, but when she stood up, Ty did too.
They shuffled around in front of the nickelodeon, Ty wondering why she’d wanted to dance in the first place. She didn’t pay a bit of attention to the music, just held him close, tightening her legs on his thigh whenever she got the chance. When the song ended, Ty said he thought they better sit down. Loretta didn’t object, sitting and
drinking her whiskey before going off to another table.
“Hell, she’ll be back,” Spec said, pushing Ty’s beer in front of him. “She don’t take much time with them guys.”
Ty watched her talking with a man over by the record player, the lights making different colors in her dark hair. Her expression didn’t seem to change at all, but before he knew it, both of them were gone.
He began to think it wouldn’t be right to go to Horace and Etta’s after he’d been here. And it was getting late. Maybe he ought to ask Spec about someplace else to sleep, but he didn’t know if Spec planned to leave at all. He didn’t even know where the truck was, which direction to start walking even if he could get his things out of it.
They drank more, and Spec got in an argument with a man at another table. Beth came over and quieted things down, and a big man who’d come in from the front went back out again. Ty wondered what had happened to the man playing solitaire. He wondered where Loretta had gone. And he didn’t like what was happening to Spec, whose voice was getting hard as he found more and more things to argue about.
“Take that Loretta upstairs,” Spec said. “It’s a fuckin’ government present. I’ll sit here and think how to get more money out of them bastards.” He looked at Ty. “What the fuck’s the matter with Loretta?”
Before Ty could answer, Jeanie had plopped down next to him. “Anyone here gonna buy a girl a beer? I’ve worked me up a thirst.”
Ty was surprised by how relieved he was to see her. He was at the bar asking Beth for the beer when Spec spun him around. “Told you this was my deal, goddamn it. You ain’t buying no beer.” He had turned Ty with such force they both went a little off balance.
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