Mr. Chumms. I guess that was standing up to him… sort of.'
'And maybe he sees something of himself in you,' Mr. Kane suggested. 'There's more vanity in our affections than we like to admit.'
'I don't see that we're anything alike,' Matthew replied testily. 'He said that his pa used to beat him. And kids probably razzed and ragged him at school.'
'Like you?' B. J. asked, glancing quickly at Ruth Lillian, with whom he had spent an hour that afternoon discussing Matthew.
'Like me? My pa never beat me. And you can bet that no kids ever razzed me at school. I wouldn't of stood for it!' He felt Ruth Lillian's eyes on him, and he recalled telling her about how the Benson boys had ridiculed him because his pa was a drunk and beat his ma. He kept his gaze averted, not wanting her eyes to touch his. He felt betrayed by her. He couldn't see anything he and Lieder had in common! He didn't know why Lieder had said they were both 'damaged boys'! It didn't seem to him that they- Blinding light leapt from the windows. A deafening peal of thunder shook the walls of the Mercantile. Two flash-cracks in close succession left the acrid, nose-tingling smell of ozone in the room, while the imprinted shapes of the windows lingered on their eyes, but with lights and darks reversed.
At the flash, a gasp escaped Mr. Kane, who now sat rigid in his chair, drawing short quick breaths through his open mouth, not daring to exhale completely for fear of chest pains. Ruth Lillian reached over and grasped his hand, but his breathing was already beginning to slow, and soon he was able to smile weakly and say, 'God enjoys His little jokes, scaring people like that. What next, I wonder? A little buzzer that gives you a shock when you reach out for His helping hand?' Everyone laughed a little, but Mr. Kane's face' was still ashen and beads of cold sweat stood on his forehead.
'There's no reason for you to sit up any longer, Mr. Kane,' B. J. said. 'God can scare you just as well in your bed.'
'That's true,' Mr. Kane said with a half chuckle. 'Even better. He'll be able to mix his little jokes into our nightmares.'
Everyone laughed a little again. Mr. Kane squeezed his daughter's hand to say he was all right now, then he rose and went to his room.
THE STORM WAS AT its height, and Coots estimated that the party over at the hotel was probably thoroughly lubricated by now. The time had come. He slipped a sixth cartridge into his revolver. Like most experienced gunmen, he always left the chamber under the hammer empty when he was doing physical work because, as he had once explained to Matthew, if the hammer should snag on something, a man could shoot off a toe… or something worse. He put a handful of cartridges into his jacket pocket as a matter of habit, but he knew that if he didn't do the job with the first six shots, he'd be unlikely to get a chance to reload. Frenchy stood at the bottom of the loft steps, watching these simple preparations. 'You be careful, y'hear?'
He nodded.
'You're pretty old for this business.'
'God knows that's true.'
'Why you doing it then?'
'Beats my two pair.' He pulled his hat down tight and went out into the storm.
THE THREE OF THEM sat around the lamp in tense silence, anticipating the next volley of thunder and lightning.
'It's getting late,' B. J. said for something to say.
'What time you figure it is?' Ruth Lillian asked.
'Near midnight. I don't know exactly. My watch broke three-four years ago but, considering how slow things are in Twenty-Mile, I didn't bother to-'
'Ruth Lillian?' Matthew interrupted. 'I think you better start getting your truck together, in case you have to leave town.'
'What are you talking about?'
'I've thought it all out. You can follow the railroad track down to Destiny. It'll be tricky, what with the rain and slippery rails and all, but you've got to go, storm or no storm.'
'I can't leave Pa! Not sick like he is, and weak.'
'You gotta go, Ruth Lillian. There's things you don't understand. Mr. Lieder, he…' Matthew swallowed. 'He wants a virgin girl. To carry his seed. He wants a son to continue the battle after he's gone.'
'Continue what battle?' B. J. asked.
'Some kind of battle against foreigners and Washington D. C. and-I don't know-something about Jews not being lumberjacks, and other stuff he got out of that book of his. The point is, Ruth Lillian, he's meaning to have a virgin girl.'
'But he doesn't even know I'm in town.'
'He does now.'
'How'd he find out?' B. J. snapped.
'Kersti told him… but it wasn't her fault! It just slipped out. She was being slapped around and treated rough. I mean real rough. And he'll be looking for you next, Ruth Lillian. I just know it. Probably not tonight what with the storm and all, but tomorrow for sure. That's why you got to get out of here. You understand?'
She was silent for a beat. 'Yes. Yes. I understand. But Mr. Coots means to get him tonight.'
'Yeah but… what if something happens?' Matthew said. 'What if Coots don't get him? You got to be ready to go!'
'What do you mean, if Coots doesn't get him?' B. J. asked with offense. 'Coots will get him! And if something happens that he can't… Well then, we'll just have to protect Ruth Lillian. You and me.'
'How?'
'I don't know, Matthew! We'll find some-What about that gun of your father's?'
'That ain't no good! I can't use it! I tried to load it just a while ago, but I couldn't! I couldn't even touch the… shells! My hands wouldn't…!' Matthew's eyes began to flicker back and forth.
'Whoa there, son! Take it easy.'
'But I can't even… touch… can't even… can't even…'
'Matthew? Matthew!'
His breathing calmed; his eyes softened; he released a long sigh and gazed past them toward the rain- streaked window on which the lamps of the hotel made smudgy glows. The storm slackened for a second, and the sound of men singing along with the player piano emerged through the moan of the wind.
'… Matthew?' B. J. said again.
Ruth Lillian laid her hand on his sleeve. 'Matthew?'
Matthew blinked and swallowed, then he settled his eyes on her. 'What is it? What's wrong?'
She forced a little laugh. 'You just went off.'
He frowned, perplexed. 'Went off?'
'That 'someplace else' you told me about? I think you just went there.'
He looked from her to B. J. Stone and back in confusion. 'What are you trying to…? I don't understand what you're…'
'Matthew?' B. J. said.
'Sir?'
'I'm concerned about how you're going to bear up, if things get tough.'
'What do you mean?'
'Well… when a person has gone through bad things, sometimes it's hard for him to… to keep himself together under pressure.'
Matthew looked from B. J. to Ruth Lillian with a blend of confusion and wariness. What was this all about?
'This afternoon while we were over at the Livery,' B. J. pursued, 'Ruth Lillian and I passed the time talking about things.'
'What sort of things?'
'You mostly.'
'Me?'
