“Maybe you’re right,” he said.
“Sure,” I told him, “that’s what hunting is really all about. God knows we don’t need the meat. You can buy better meat a helluva lot cheaper at the supermarket. Deer meat is going to average about five dollars a pound — that’s for something that tastes like rancid mutton.” I was laying it on pretty thick, and he was buying every bit of it. He really wanted to go, and convincing him wasn’t all that hard.
“You get that rifle you were going to borrow?” I asked him, wanting to change the subject before he caught me up a tree.
I’d planted enough, though, I thought. At least he wouldn’t roll over and play dead for her.
“Yes,” he said, “I picked it up this morning. It belongs to a fellow at the school, but he had a heart attack and can’t hunt anymore. He said that if I like the way it shoots on this trip, he’ll sell it to me.”
He fetched the gun, and I looked it over. It was one of those Remington pumps in .30-06 caliber, scope-mounted and with a sissy-pad on the butt. I felt my shoulder gingerly. Maybe a recoil pad would be a good investment if a man planned to do a lot of shooting.
“Good-looking piece,” I said. “You sighted it in yet?”
“The fellow said that it was right on at two hundred yards.”
“Probably wouldn’t hurt to poke a few through it just to make sure,” I told him. “Sometimes they get knocked around a little and won’t hit where you’re aiming. I’ll give you a fistful of military rounds so you can make sure.” I told him where the police range was, but he already knew. So I showed him how to adjust the sights, gave him about fifteen rounds and took off. I didn’t want to be around if Monica came back. He’d told me she’d been gone since early that morning on some land of errand, and he didn’t expect her back until evening, but I didn’t want to take any chances. I might just have trouble being civil to her.
I wanted to swing on by Sloane’s pawnshop to see how things were shaping up with the other guys, so I buzzed right on over there. My ears were still ringing and I could have used a beer, but I figured that could wait.
Sloane was in the place alone when I got there.
“Hey, Dan,” he said, “how’d it shoot?”
“Dead on at two hundred,” I said.
“Good deal. Say, you hear about Betty?”
“What? No. What’s up?”
“That damned kidney of hers went sour again. Mike had to put her in the hospital again last night.”
“Oh, no,” I said, “that’s a damned shame.”
“Yeah. I’m afraid Mike won’t be able to go with us, poor bastard. He wouldn’t dare leave now.”
“Christ, Cal,” I said, “that’ll wash out the whole deal then, won’t it?” I felt sick.
“No, I don’t think so,” Sloane said. “I called Miller this morning as soon as I heard about it. He wasn’t any too happy, but he’ll still take us. It’s too late for him to get another party.”
“It’s still a damn shame,” I said. “Poor Betty was just getting back on her feet from last spring, and Mike’s really been counting on this trip. I was looking forward to getting out with him.”
“It’s a lousy break,” Sloane said. “It’s a good thing we included Larkin in. Miller wouldn’t have held still for just four guys.”
“I had to give Stan a shot of high life just a little while ago,” I said. “His wife’s giving him a whole bunch of crap about the trip.”
“She’s a real bitch, isn’t she?”
“They’d have been ahead to have drowned her and raised a puppy,” I agreed.
“She was really out to raise hell last Wednesday,” Sloane said. “Hey, could you use a blast? I’ve got a jug in the back, and it’s about time for my early afternoon vitamin shot.”
“Oh, I guess I could choke some down,” I said. “Might take some of the sting out of my shoulder.”
“That old aught-six steps back pretty hard, doesn’t it?” he said, leading me into the back room.
“You know she’s there when you touch ‘er off,” I agreed.
He took a fifth of good bourbon down from one of the shelves. “I stick it up high,” he said, “so Claudia doesn’t find it. She’s sudden death on drinking on the job. I wouldn’t want to get fired.” He giggled.
“Hadn’t you better sit where you can keep an eye out front?” I asked.
“What the hell for? On the fourth of the month the GI’s are fat city — rollin’ in money. Everybody’s already redeemed last month’s pawns, and nobody looks for pawnshop bargains on Saturday afternoon. Their neighbors might see them and mink they were hurting for money. Here.” He passed me the jug.
I took a long pull. “Good whiskey,” I said as soon as I got my breath.
“Fair,” he agreed, taking a drink. “Oh, hey. I wanted to show you the pistol I’m taking along.” He rummaged around and came up with a .357 Ruger, frontier style.
“Christ, Sloane,” I said, “isn’t that a little beefy?”
“It shoots .38 special as well,” he said. “I’ll probably take those.”
“It’s got a good helf to it,” I said, holding the pistol.
“Got a holster too,” he said, pulling a fancy Western-type cartridge belt and holster out of one of his bins.
“Man,” I said, “Pancho Villa rides again. We’re going to go into the woods with more armament than a light infantry platoon.”
“Jack’s got that Army .45 auto, and McKlearey’s taking a Smith and Wesson .38 Military and Police,” he said.
“I don’t know if Stan’s got a handgun,” I said. “When you get right down to it, they’re not really necessary.” I wanted to say something more about that, but I figured it was too late now.
“It just kind of goes with the trip,” Sloane said, almost apologetically. “If it’s the land of thing you only do once, you might as well go all the way.”
“Sure, Cal,” I said, looking at my watch. “Say, I’ve got to run.”
“O.K. Here, have one for the road.” He handed me the jug again. I took another belt, and we walked on back out into the shop again.
“Keep in touch,” he said.
“Right.” I waved and went on out to the street. Goddamn Sloane was just a big kid. I began to understand Claudia even a little better now. God knows he needed somebody to take care of him.
I dropped the guns and clothes off at the trailer and buzzed on out to the Patio for a few beers. I still had a couple hours before I was supposed to pick up Clydine. It was still cloudy, but no rain. It was the kind of day that’s always made me feel good. Even the news about Betty hadn’t been able to change that. I parked the car and went inside whistling.
McKlearey was there at the pinball machine — as usual — still standing at attention. He saw me before I could back out.
“Hey, Danny,” he said, “come have a beer.” I hate having people I don’t like call me Danny. My day went sour right about then.
“Sure,” I said. I followed him to the bar and ordered a draft.
“Hey, old buddy,” he said, slapping me on the shoulder with a false joviality that stuck out like a sore thumb. “How you fixed for cash money?”
“Oh,” I said cautiously, “I’ve still got a couple bucks.”
“Can you see your way clear to loan me five till payday?”
I couldn’t think up an excuse in a hurry. I reached for my wallet before I even stopped to mink. You get that reflex in the Army, I don’t know why.
“I get paid on Wednesday,” he said, watching me, “and I’ll get it right back to you then.”
I pulled out a five and handed it to him.
“Got to pick up some stuff, Lou,” I said. “I don’t think I’d better cut it any tighter.”
“Sure,” he said, “that’s OK. This’ll get me by. I’ll be sure to get it right back to you on Wednesday.”
“No sweat, Lou,” I said.
“No,” he said, “a guy ought to stay on top of his obligations.”
There was five bucks down the tube.
“You hear about Carter’s wife?” he asked, settling back down at the bar.
“Yeah,” I said, “I just stopped by the pawnshop. Sloane told me.”
“Damn shame,” he said indifferently. “Oh, well, there’s enough of us to make the trip OK.” He seemed almost glad that Mike wasn’t going. He was a rotten son of a bitch.
“Sure,” I said, “we’ll be able to swing it.”
“I just got here a few minutes ago,” he said. “You was lucky to catch me. I just had a real high-class broad in the sack at my place.”