I guess when you come right down to it, I was making the same mistake that those people I was talking about make. Because there ain't no bigger problem than love, nothing is truly hard to come by, and I was looking for an easy answer to it.
7
Well, sir, danged if I hadn't got back to Pottsville on just about the darkest night of the year. It was so dark that I could have had a firefly sitting on my nose and! wouldn't have been able to see it.
Of course, the dark didn't really bother me. The way I knew every nook and cranny of Pottsville, I could get to wherever I wanted to go if I was walking in my sleep. So the dark was really an advantage to me, rather than otherwise. If anyone was up and around, and of course there wouldn't be at that time of night, they wouldn't see where I was going and wonder why I was going there.
I walked right down the dark middle of Main Street. I turned south at the end of it, and headed toward the river. There was just a speck of light down that way, sort of a little blob bulging up out of the darkness. I figured it came from the whorehouse, or rather from the little pier behind it. Those two pimps would be sitting out there, I knew, taking the night air and drinking themselves stiff.
They'd be feeling their oats for sure by the time I got there. All sassy and nasty, and primed for meanness toward a fella that'd always been nice to them.
I struck a match, took a quick look at my watch, I began to walk faster. The steamer, Ruby Clark, was about due and I had to be on hand when it rounded the bend.
There'd been a pretty hard rain the week before; low river country, there's always a lot of rain. The wet was all dried up by now, because we get a lot of hot sunshine too. But the road had gotten rutted here and there, and hurrying like! was I brought my foot down where I shouldn't have.
I stumbled, almost taking a header before I could right myself.! paused, sort of getting my breath back, and then I whirled around. Straining my eyes and ears, scared stiff for a minute. Because I'd heard something. The same kind of clod-kicking sound I'd made, only not so loud.
I held my breath, telling myself that there couldn't be anyone following me. Knowing that even if there was someone back there, I was still protected by the darkness.
I stood stock still for two, three minutes. Then, I heard the sound again and I recognized it for what it was, and I almost laughed out loud with relief.
It was just some of those god-danged big night-beetles we have down here. They go swooping around, looking for each other, and then they come together in mid-air and go plunking down on the ground.
They can make a heck of a racket on a stilly night. If you're maybe just a little uneasy like! was, they can give you a bad start.
It was two or three minutes later when I got to the whorehouse. I tippy-toed along the walk which ran down the side of the place, and went around to the rear.
The two pimps were there, right where I thought they'd be. They were sitting down with their backs to the mooring posts, a dimmed lantern and a jug of whiskey between them. They looked at me owl-eyed as I came in out of the darkness, and then the one named Curly, a kind of dudeish fella with kinky scalp-tight hair, shook a finger at me.
"Now, Nick, you know you're not supposed to come over here but once a week. Just once a week, and only long enough to pick up your graft and get."
"That's right," said the one named Moose. "Fact is, we're bein' mighty generous to let you come here at all. We got a reputation to protect here, and it sure doesn't help none to have a fella like you dropping around."
"Well, now," I said, "that's not a very nice thing to say."
"Oh, well, there's nothing personal in it," Curly said. "It's just one of those unpleasant facts of life. You're a crook, and it doesn't look good to have crooks around."
I asked him how come he thought I was a crook, and he said what else could I call myself. "You take graft, don't you? You're getting a dollar out of every five that comes in here?"
"But I have to," I said. "I mean, it's kind of a civic duty. If I didn't keep you people stripped down a little, you'd get too powerful. First thing I know, you'd be running the county instead of me."
Moose sneered and wobbled to his feet. "You two-bit clown," he said, "will you just get the hell out of here? Will you, or am I gonna have to make you?"
"Well, now," I said. "Well, now, I don't know about that.! figure that's a pretty mean way to talk to a fella that's always been nice to you."
"Are you gonna get or not?" He took a step toward me.
"You'd better, Nick," Curly nodded, pushing himself up. "You kind of make us sick to our stomachs, you know? It may not be your fault, but the air turns bad every time you show up."
Around the bend, I could see the lights of the Ruby Clark, and I could hear the whip of the paddles as it fought for the turn. It was that time, it would be that time any second now, and I unholstered my gun and took aim.
"Wha-!" Moose stopped dead in his tracks, his mouth gaping open.
Curly said, "Oh, now, Nick!" forcing a smile to his face. But it was the sickest smile I'll ever see.
That's one thing people always know, I guess. They know when they're going to die. And Moose and Curly knew that they were going to.
"Good night, ye merry gentlemen," I said. "Hail and farewell."
The Ruby Clark whistled.
By the time the echo died, Moose and Curly were in the river, each with a bullet spang between his eyes.
I waited on the little pier for a minute until the Ruby had gone by. I always say there's nothing prettier than a steamboat at night. Then I went around on the catwalk, and headed for home.
The courthouse was dark, naturally, when I got there. I took off my boots and crept up the stairs. And! got in bed without waking anyone.
I fell asleep right away. A couple of hours later! waked up, with Myra shaking me.
"Nick! Nick! Will you please get up, for pity's sake!"
"Huh! What?" I said. "What's going on, Myra?"
But I heard it then, the pounding on the downstairs door. A fella would've had to be deaf not to hear it.
"Well, I'll be dogged," I said. "Now, who in tarnation can that be?"
"Well, go and see, darn it! Get down there before they wake poor Lennie up!"
I studied about it for a moment, staying right where I was while Myra went on nagging at me. Then I said! wasn't sure whether I should go downstairs or not, because why for would any honest person be pounding on doors at this time of night?
"It might be robbers, Myra,"! pointed out. "Wouldn't be a bit surprised if that's who it was. I hear they do their robbin' late at night when decent folks is in bed."
"You fool! You stupid, spineless, cowardly slob! Are you the sheriff of this county or not?" Myra yelled.
"Well," I said, "I guess you could say that."