'Second cousin. After all he would hardly have performed the marriage ceremony for a mere fourth cousin.'
'Second cousin, eh? And Mr. Lincoln married her to your father? Interesting, very interesting. There seems to have been a remarkable improvement in your mother's memory, or mine has abandoned me completely.'
'After I serve as sheriff,' said Deputy Thompson firmly, 'I shall run for Congress.'
'Oh, shut up,' said his uncle.
'You introduced the subject of politics, sir. I was trying to discuss the murder of the Anderson woman, Little Sis, that is – '
'How do we know it was Little Sis? How do we know she was murdered?'
'Well… of course, we can't make positive identification. But it would certainly seem a safe assumption that the dead woman was she, and that – '
'We can assume that, yes. We can also assume that she was murdered by her older sister. Little Sis jumped the train when she discovered that Big Sis was following her. The latter went right out the window after Little Sis, who she thought was carrying the loot from their many murders – _and she may have been carrying it, Jim._ Big Sis may have gotten it all back from her before beating her to death.'
'But Little Sis couldn't have had the money! Critchfield King had stolen it from her!'
'Did he?'
'Of course, he did! And Arlington King stole it from him.'
'Did he?'
'Yes, certainly! You know he must have, Uncle Harry! Why – why, everything points to the fact that – '
'It points to it, in our minds. Which way it would point in the minds of a jury is something else again, as you should know better than I. Or didn't you tell me you were a qualified attorney? No, Jim,' the marshal averred firmly. 'We have no evidence to go on at all, at this point. Not one whit of proof. We can assume certain things, and I think our assumptions may be correct. Whether we can prove it or not depends on Big Sis.'
'On her? How?'
'Quite simply. Assuming that Big Sis was on the train with her sister and Critch King, she must have gotten a good look at Critch. Enough to recognize him if she ever saw him again. Also, she may have found out who he was from someone on the train. Or, if he was using his right name, she could have gotten it from Little Sis before pounding her to death. In other words, assuming that Critch did steal the money, Big Sis will probably try to get it back from him.'
Deputy Thompson leaned forward excitedly. 'You think she's still in the area, then? Why don't we organize a search party and hunt her down?'
'Hunt exactly where? She could be any place within a fifty mile area. We could possibly dig her up if we had enough time and money, but that would still leave this job half done. Critch King – and, Arlie, too, perhaps – is guilty of being an accessory. The only way we can get him, or them, is through her.'
'I see,' the deputy nodded. 'You'll keep a watch on Critch, and when she tries to make contact with him…'
'Right,' the marshal said. 'Right, Jim. And now as your relative and friend, I again implore you to drop your preposterous political aspirations.'
'Sorry,' his nephew said shortly. 'I see nothing preposterous about them.'
'But you must! Territorial Oklahoma is governed by appointed Republicans. The state, however, will be Democratic. It's geographically southern, and the settlers are mainly southern, so it will go into the Democratic column. You can overcome that handicap as a candidate for local office, sheriff, that is. You'll have the opportunity to meet people at first hand, to get to know them and become friends with them. And that's all you need to do. But if you run for Congress or the Senate, where it's largely a matter of speech-making and impersonal contact…' He broke off, studying his nephew's adamant expression. 'I know what I'm talking about, Jim. It's my business to know these things. I can even tell you who your opponent would most likely be in a congressional race.'
'Very interesting,' said the deputy.
'His name is Gore. Keep it in mind, you'll be hearing it for years to come. He's a southerner, a gentleman and a scholar. He's also blind – which will get him a huge sympathy vote, even though he doesn't need it or want it. Don't tangle with him, Jim. He'll beat your pants off if you do.'
'I doubt that, sir.'
'Do you,' Marshal Thompson asked, 'doubt the existence of the word, nephewcide?'
'I don't think I've ever heard of it, sir.'
'Hmmm,' said his uncle ominously. 'Hmmm.'
Author's note: After three terms as sheriff of Caddo County, Oklahoma, James Sherman Thompson ran for Congress against Mr. Gore. Thompson's three-car campaign train carried a banner on each car, the three spelling out his full name. The brass band accompanying the train played _Marching Through Georgia_ at each stop. Inevitably, Thompson suffered a smashing defeat, one which, by association, reflected disastrously upon his uncle. Recovering from the debacle after several years, they were powerful political figures in Oklahoma for almost two decades. And several towns in the state bore some form of the family name; for example_, Jimtomson._
The fictional Anderson sisters had their real-life counterpart in the Bender family, operators of a murder-for-money roadhouse in southern Kansas. Like Big Sis and Little Sis, the Benders are said to have fled into Oklahoma Territory, successfully eluding a pursuing posse and eventually becoming highly respected citizens of the new state. According to another story, however, the posse lied in reporting that the family had escaped. Actually (or so the story goes) the Benders were caught and killed by their pursuers, who then appropriated their ill-gotten wealth for themselves.
The anecdotes concerning attorney Temple Houston are basically true. A reasonable doubt is not, of course, 'a doubt that you can give a reason for'. In so advising juries, the judge in question (we mercifully omit his name) committed a reversible error – one which secured new trials for approximately half the Territorial prison population.
Al Jennings, first county attorney of Caddo County, Oklahoma, ended a most promising political career, by turning outlaw. He showed little aptitude for his new vocation – the entire loot from one train robbery consisted of a bunch of bananas – and other hootowlers jeered his wild tales of gun-battles with lawmen. (His one battle seems actually to have been with a low-hanging tree branch, which knocked out several front teeth.) In a more enlightened era, Jennings might have received the psychiatric treatment which his erratic behavior so clearly dictated. In early day Oklahoma, however, prison was the one place for criminals. And the freckle-splotched former attorney was a criminal, by his own admission if nothing else. While in prison, Jennings gained a sad sort of fame by recounting his 'exploits' to a widely read writer. In actuality, the one man seriously hurt or deprived by Jennings would seem to be Jennings himself.
The King ranch, and the town of King's Junction, with its various appurtenances and enterprises, are strictly the product of the author's imagination. Completely fictional, also, are the people who populate the town and ranch, including the Kings themselves. Anyone even vaguely familiar with Oklahoma history will know that such places and people did not and could not exist. Anyone not thus familiar will have to accept their non-existence on the word of the author, the son of James Sherman Thompson.
Aching in every bone, Critch lay on a bunk in the abandoned farmhouse, his mattress a pile of grain sacks, his covering the blanket from his horse. He didn't seem to have broken anything, though how he had escaped a fractured neck was miraculous. Joshie bent over him, gently brushing the hair back from his forehead, asking anxiously if he was sure he was all right.