“Sure, Jack,” I said. I went over and climbed up into the stock-truck with Clint.
Maybe there was some hope for Jack after all.
33
“I don’t know how the hell we’re gonna get all that stuff in that car of mine,” Jack said when we got to Miller’s.
“We’ll have to put a couple of those deer in the back seat,” I said. “If we put them all in the trunk, it’s going to overbalance so bad it’ll pull the front wheels right up off the ground.”
It took some juggling, but we finally managed it all.
“I’m gonna have to go on into Twisp and pick up a few things,” Miller said, coming back from turning the horses out to pasture. “I’ll call the game warden. He’ll give you a note explainin’ why you got so many deer. That way you won’t have no trouble with any game checks on down the line.”
“We’d appreciate it, Cap,” I said. I walked with him back up toward the house.
“Your brother told me a few things on the way down,” he said.
“Yeah,” I said, “he told me he planned to.”
“I can see where he had a lot workin’ on him,” Cap said, dumping his clothes bag on the back porch.
“He’s not as bad as he seemed to be up there,” I said.
“He’s a lot younger’n you,” Cap said.
“No. He’s two years older.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“Oh. Maybe — in some ways anyhow.”
“In a lotta ways. I got a feelin’ that in a lotta ways your brother ain’t never gonna grow up. I started off callin’ the wrong man Kid. He’s likable enough; he just ain’t grown-up.”
“Who really ever grows up all the way, Cap?” I asked him.
He grinned at me. “If I ever make it, I’ll let you know.”
I laughed. “Right,” I said.
“You got my address here?” he asked me.
“Yeah,” I said.
“Drop me a line once in a while, son. Let me know how you’re makin’ out.”
“I will, Cap. I really will.” I meant it, too.
He slapped my shoulder. “We stand here talkin’ all afternoon, and you two’ll never get home.”
We went on back out to the cars. Miller and Clint climbed in the pickup and led out with Jack and me laboring along behind in the overloaded Plymouth.
I saw Ned rolling out in the pasture where the colt had run when we’d first come here. The old boy was acting pretty frisky. Maybe he wasn’t really grown-up yet either.
The game warden met us in Twisp and put all the necessary information down on a piece of paper for us.
“Nice bunch of deer,” he said. He shook hands around and left.
“Well, men,” Cap said, “I don’t want to keep you. I know you got a long trip ahead of you.”
“Cap, Clint,” Jack said, “maybe I didn’t show it much, but I enjoyed the trip, and I appreciate all you did for us up there.” He shook hands with them both and got back in his car.
I shook hands with Cap and then with Clint.
“Thanks for everything,” I said.
“You come back, son,” Miller said, “you hear me? Even if it’s only to borrow money.”
“And don’t make yourself obnoxious by not writin’ neither,” Clint growled, punching my shoulder.
We were all getting a little watery-eyed.
“I’d better go,” I said quickly. “I’ll keep in touch.” I got quickly into the car.
Jack backed out from the curb, we all waved, and then we drove off.
We stopped for a case of beer and then got out onto the highway. The sun was bright and warm, and we drove with the windows rolled down, drinking beer.
“You get all squared away with Cap?” I asked my brother after a few miles.
“I told him a little about what was goin’ on,” Jack said. “I don’t know how much it squared away.”
“He probably understood,” I said.
“Hey,” he said suddenly, “what day is today anyway?”
“Sunday.”
“Man, I lost track up there.”
I laughed.
We traded off at Cashmere, and I drove on over the pass. The sun went down before we got to the top, and I switched on the headlights.
“Let’s make a piss-call at the summit,” he said.
“Sure.”
We stopped and used the rest rooms and then drove down into the fir trees on the west side.
“Dan,” he said after a while.
“Yeah?”
“I’m sorry I threw down on you up there.”
“You didn’t mean it, Jack. I knew that.”
“You’d have shot though, wouldn’t you?”
“I only said that to try to jar some sense into you,” I told him.
“Bullshit,” he said quietly. “You were all squared off and so was I. It came about that close.” He held up his thumb and forefinger about an eighth of an inch apart. “You had me cold, too.”
I didn’t say anything.
“What the hell was goin’ on up there anyway?” he said suddenly. “I’d cut off my leg before I’d do anything to hurt you, and I think you feel the same way. What in hell got into us?”
“McKlearey and that goddamned leper of a deer,” I said.
“Maybe it’s best nobody found the thing,” he said. “God only knows what might have happened.”
“I did find it,” I told him bluntly.
“What?”
“You heard me. I found the son of a bitch and buried it before McKlearey got down there.”
“No shit?”
“No shit. I wasn’t about to get caught in the middle of a pitched gun battle.”
“You did that just to keep him from puttin’ me down?”
“You weren’t listening,” I said. “That’s not why I did it. I’d have probably buried the damned thing even if you’d shot it. All I wanted to do was keep somebody from getting killed — probably me. You two were wound so damned tight you were ready to start shooting at anybody who came near you up there. Do you know that I had to back both of you off in the space of less than fifteen minutes?”
“McKlearey, too?”
“Hell, he was all squared away like Billy the Kid. I had to remind him loud and clear that I could take him if I had to. I got so many guns pointed at me that day I thought somebody had opened season on me.
“Jesus, Kid, I’m sorry as hell.”
“Let’s forget it,” I said. “Everybody was all keyed-up.”
“Man, McKlearey sure fell apart at the end, didn’t he?”
“His hand was pretty badly infected,” I said. “He might have been picking up some fever or something from that, I don’t know.”
“Yeah, he was holdin’ it pretty careful all the time. You want another beer?”
“Yeah. I’m a little tired of whiskey for a while.”
We had another beer and bored on down through the darkness, following our headlights.
We grabbed a hamburger and switched off again at Snohomish, and Jack drove on the rest of the way to Tacoma. We pulled into the trailer court about ten thirty.
Jack called Clem and got an OK to hang the deer in a garage at the end of the court. Then we unloaded all our gear, said good night, and went to our own trailers. I sat on the couch in my filthy hunting clothes with my feet up and a bottle of beer in my hand. I was bone-tired, and I damn near fell asleep a couple times.
“You look like the wrath of God,” she said, coming in. She was still as cute as ever.
“How did you get over here, Clydine?” I asked.
“Joan’s folks bought her a car. I’ve been borrowing it. I’ve been past here a dozen or so times since Wednesday.” She came over and kissed me. “Did you lose your razor?” she asked. Then she sniffed. “And your soap?”
“I’ve been busy.”
“All right,” she ordered. “Strip and get into that bathroom.”
“The bathroom?” I laughed. “Not in the bathroom!”
“Move it!” she barked.
I grunted, sat up, and started to unlace my boots.
“What a mess,” she said, glaring at the pile of gear on the floor. “Are those things loaded?”
“The rifle isn’t,” I said. “The pistol is, I guess.”
She shook her head disgustedly. “What were you doing with a pistol anyway?”
“Trying to stay alive,” I said, a little more grimly than necessary.
“Men!” she said.
By the time I’d finished showering and shaving, she had everything but the guns put away. She wouldn’t touch them. She had fixed me up a big platter of bacon and eggs and toast.
It felt awfully good just having her around.
“Well,” she said when I’d finished eating and we’d moved back to the living room, “did you bushwhack Bambi?”
“Two Bambis,” I told her.
“Do you feel better now?”
“I feel better, but not because I shot the deer,” I said.