Chapter 9
THE NEXT night, after supper, Cy and Buck sat drinking highballs. Cy put down his tumbler and stared at the bigger man.
"Buck, how many women can a man love at one time?"
Buck hid his grin behind a glass. "I've been in love with three at once."
"Oh, come off it. I'm serious."
Buck slowly put his glass down. "I wasn't kidding."
"But that's impossible."
"Well, it wore off pretty quick," Buck admitted. Was it possible, he was asking himself. Could a man who possessed Maureen want anything more? "How many are worrying you right now?"
"Two-Maureen and Grace. What's more, this upcoming election has been bugging me, too."
Grace, thought Buck. Grace! What could a man see in that pale creature? He sighed and said, "You should stop fretting about the election. It's in the bag, believe me. Of course, to be on the safe side, it wouldn't hurt to do a little campaigning."
"I've been hoodwinked into running. I'm not even sure I want the job."
Buck registered alarm. "You don't figure on backing out, do you? That would be a hell of a thing!"
"Don't worry. I'm stuck with it, I guess."
The two built themselves fresh drinks, sat and sipped for a while. Then Cy returned to the topic nearest his heart.
"Buck, for years I've been told a man can love but one woman."
"The rules may say one thing, but a man's inner fire can tell him otherwise. Miss Grace threw a big one on you, hey?"
"Yup. It happened too fast. I have a feeling that she just tripped and fell."
"And you took two steps and floundered into the same puddle."
"Something like that." Cy stood up. "I suppose I should see Lady Bergstrom tonight. We've got strategy to map."
But as he turned to go, the telephone rang. Cy lifted the receiver and heard Kitty's voice. She was in a state of tearful apology. "I'm awfully sorry I yelled at you, Cy. It was just that you-well, you sort of insulted me."
"Did I?"
"Cy, I want to see you so badly ... May I? Tonight?"
Cy felt a strange flicker ripple up his spine. Guiltily, he said, "Well-"
"Please, Cy? We can go to Mr. Wise's camp on the river. He told me I could use it whenever I want to."
How does she come to know Perry Wise, wondered Cy. The man's character was shadowy. No one seemed to know his game, although rumor had it that he made a living playing the horses. Cy's mind worked like lightning. "I'm busy right now, but maybe a little later I'll be able to see you."
"Any time, Cy. I can't leave until nine...." She stopped. "I'm kind of busy myself."
"How about ten-thirty?"
"That would be fine, Cy. Just fine."
Cy hung up and checked his watch. "Buck, how long would it take to get to Wise's camp?"
Buck stood up. "Twenty minutes, if we push hard."
"Are those leather snakes still soaking?"
Buck's eyes narrowed in his handsome head. "You told me to stow 'em in water, didn't you?"
"Fine. Grab 'em and saddle up."
Like attacking Tartars, Cy and Buck tore through the woods. Brush flanked the old lumber path and whipped them every step of the way. Buck rode Steven Scott's prize mare and Cy sat a gray stud that carried him through the night like an arrow. He stretched out over the stallion's neck and gave the speedy animal its head.
"Take the fork to the left," yelled Buck.
Cy felt the furious explosion of equine musculature as the animal leaped a rivulet his rider could not see. When they had reached the east bank of the river, Cy pulled up for a moment to let the horses rest.
"Mind tellin' me what's up?" Buck said.
"Looks like Jake and his friends have set me up for the kill. I think Corey is using that young sister of Fleur's to suck me into something. I want to arrive ahead of Kitty and see what's cooking."
"Let's get going then," Buck said.
They rode into the stream. As they emerged, Buck was fingering his whip.
"I'm beginning to get sore," the big Negro breathed. "If Corey shows up, he'll be sorry."
"That's putting it mildly. I wonder who he'll bring to back him up? I could lick four men."
"Boy, you sound rambunctious tonight."
"I am. If there's anything I hate, it's dirty politics."
"I suppose they want to get something on you they can publish in the papers. Pictures or something."
"The kind of pictures they're after aren't publishable. But if Corey wants to play rough, he's got a contender."
Buck glanced at Cy's dark profile. "You're a match for any man," he said. "Even me, maybe."
The camp consisted of an old but rather pretentious cabin and a few outbuildings. It had recently been renovated. The grounds were kept up pretty well, but the forest in places leaned over the high wooden fence. A full moon cast a soft luminous enchantment over the yard. The house stood on a bluff overlooking the river. A path, worn smooth by cattle, disappeared into the pines.
Cy and Buck tied their horses a hundred yards from the fence and made their way toward it on foot. The house, they discovered was deserted. The night was clear and warm and the sky was speckled with stars. Across the river, a thrush sang sleepily. Katy dids kept up their incessant argument in the lush grass. A bullfrog coughed heavily and a nighthawk answered.
Buck and Cy stood silently in the shadows, drinking in the beauty of the nocturnal scene.
"How could anyone have an evil thought on a night like this?" asked Buck, taking off his hat and letting the air cool his tight hair.
"I wonder," murmured Cy. "Imagine a kid like Kitty involved with criminals. It frightens me."
Buck sighed and replaced his hat. "Sometimes I think all the trouble in the world is caused by people with dollar signs for eyes. That can make a whore of a girl and a killer of a man."
"Amen ... What time does that cuckoo clock of yours register? I can't read mine in the dark."
"Don't talk nasty about my watch," said Buck. "It was given me by a man whose friendship I cherish." He glanced at the luminous dial. "Ten to nine."
Cy, who had bought the watch for Buck years before, blushed and punched Buck lightly on the arm. "You big lunk," he said affectionately.
"I got big ears, too," Buck said. "I think I hear a car."
"You're right. It's coming up the hill." Cy listened for a moment. "Still five or six miles off, I'd say."
"What's on the program?"
"Just follow my lead."
"This here whip picked up a pound and a half of water," said Buck. "I could bust somebody's behind wide open."
Cy shook his whip, hefting the added weight. "Where did you ever light on to this wet-whip trick?"
"Oh, I've seen your daddy do it a couple of times. He can really throw a bad blacksnake. But he learned from my own dad, who used to be a mule-skinner. Yeah, in their salad days, I hear, both men were a mite free with the snake-While he was still alive, he used it now and again."
"Didn't people resent it?"
"Well, I reckon they did, but the ones who got hurt kept their mouths shut. I remember your daddy like to killed Gil Cuppy when he took a whip to me-"
"Funny how upset Dad was," Cy said. "He acted as if you were his only child."
Buck looked at him sharply. "That could mean a lot of things. Somebody been telling stories out of school?"
Cy grinned from ear to ear. "Well, you are pretty light-colored."
"So what? You're pretty dark."
"You got me there," Cy admitted. "Seriously, though, Lady Bergstrom has been telling me my Dad has not been altogether celibate all his life-has an eye for a pretty brown girl, especially. You wouldn't happen to be my brother, would you?"
"What if I were? Ashamed of a colored relative?"
"Want to get thrown off that bluff?"
"Just asking."
"Buck-if you were really my brother, nothing would make me happier. Not that I could love you more, you lunkhead. When title to Scottland passes to me, you're going to find out about that."
He seized Buck's hand. The two exchanged a hard, solemn grip. Then both, embarrassed, coughed and shuffled and looked away from each other.
"Who you callin' a lunkhead, boy?" demanded Buck. "I ought to beat the tar out of you."
"You try it. You may be bigger than me, but-"
"And smarter than you, too," said Buck. "Smart enough to know that we may be half-brothers, but we'd best believe what my mom told me. Your daddy and her didn't start consoling each other till after their respective spouses were dead."
"You know about it then? Auntie Violet told you?"
"That's right."
"She should have told me. I had to learn it from Lady Bergstrom. Well, I give the old man credit for picking himself a spicy chick-"
"Yeah, they're a cute pair, all right. Ma always did like a man with a little cattle smell on him."
The two men doubled over in silent mirth, afraid to roar out their laughter because they were expecting company.
All this time, the sound of the approaching automobile had been growing louder and louder. Now Cy and Buck froze in the dark, for the twin beams of headlights stabbed the sky. Soon the engine noise stopped. Low voices came to them from below. Barely visible in the moonlight, heads appeared on the stairway that led from camp level to the water.
"They won't be able to see us," whispered Cy. "You go around and get on one side of that gate. I'll take this side."
Buck faded into the night and Cy edged softly into position.
Carrying flashlights, two men puffed up the steps and stopped at the top, waiting for a third who was staggering under camera equipment. Cy recognized Sheriff Jake Jonas and Les Corey. The third man, Cy did not know-but felt no pity for what might happen to the fellow.
The men circled the house, then stopped. They held a conference.
"Willet, are you sure that you know what you're to do?" Corey barked.
The man carrying the equipment nodded. "Bug the place and take pictures."
Corey glanced at his watch. "Will it take you more than half an hour to set up your tripod and rig the lights? Kitty said that Scott wouldn't arrive before ten-thirty, but I don't want anything to go wrong."
"I'll have to scout and see how the windows are placed. We might have to take the curtains down."
"There ain't no curtains," said Jonas. "Just them bamboo blinds."
"I can take a shot right through those," said the photographer, "if we spread a couple of the slats."
"Now," continued the sheriff, "we want this to be good. Better set up two mikes, one in the parlor and the other in the bedroom. These love scenes will screw Scott out of twenty thousand votes."
"Tape alone may not do it. Insufficient identification, maybe," put in Corey. "As soon as the party warms up, sequence pictures should be taken. That infrared lamp won't give you away, will it?"
"No," said the cameraman. "I could be right on top of him and he would never realize it."
"Les," the sheriff said, "you were smart not to try and use Fleur-she would never have gone through with it. Probably would have warned him, if she had known anything."
"Yeah. I wouldn't have considered her at all, except I didn't think a grown man would fall for a cheap floosie like Kitty," said Les Corey. "What a sucker he is!"
"The poor, dumb bastard," agreed Jake Jonas, while the others gloatingly laughed.
That was too much. Cy felt a charge of hot blood.
He stood erect and motioned to Buck.
Then out of the night hissed two whips, each exploding like a rifle shot.
Jake Jonas bawled hoarsely. He backed into the photographer, knocking a camera to the ground. Other camera gear spilled from bags and scattered on the grass. Corey, a bubbling scream of pure agony bursting from his throat, had fallen flat on his back.
Now the air was singing with the fury of the cutting lashes. One found Jonas, who let out a roar of pain. Scrambling to his feet, he ran toward the gate, but just before he reached safety, the long whip in Buck's practiced hand licked out and raised a blood blister on the man's buttock. Screaming, Jonas dropped over the bluff into the water.
Then both whips went to work on the prone figures scrabbling through the grass. The photographer, in a mad effort to escape his punishment, rolled and writhed, finally managed to reach to the edge of the bluff. He plunged over after Jonas.
Corey was screaming and floundering like a beached shad. He made a sudden dash for it, running in reckless terror, and took a headlong dive down the steps.
Still burning with fury, Cy walked off into the woods with the cries of the tortured men ringing in his ears. Buck followed quietly.
In silence the two mounted their horses and rode into the night.
The abortive attempt to put Cy Scott on exhibit to the public in a bad light had repercussions that neither Corey nor Jonas could have foreseen. By the nature of Davis Wilde's office, he had been aware that trouble was brewing, and he had tracked the sheriff's party to the camp. Arriving just after Cy and Buck had ridden off, Davis found the injured men still there. Wet and dripping from the bath in the river, the cameraman was sobbing wretchedly and Jonas was cursing and shouting at the top of his voice. Corey lay near them, his face white with pain. Corey was in shock and would not allow the others to touch him. He kept moaning for an ambulance, which arrived in due time. But it turned out that one of its riders was Harbison of the Clarion. At about the same time, Kitty Manning arrived. She was so astounded by the turn of events that she blurted everything she knew to Davis Wilde and Harbison.
Later, Harbison made a few telephone calls, spoke to Cy and Buck, among' others. The next day's paper carried the story as Harbison had got it, without gloss or editorial comment. Corey and Jonas, both hospitalized, received a few curious visitors. They swore up and down that Scott had taken unfair advantage, but no one listened with much sympathy.
One of Corey's callers was a tearful Kitty, who swore on a Bible that she had followed his orders to the letter. Corey, knowing something of her love for money, believed her. But he could not forgive her for opening her mouth to Harbison. Black anger settled like a blanket over Corey and hate so poisoned him that he wept occasionally at night when none could hear. Corey had loved the good life and now he felt it slipping away. Cy's victory in the election was assured.