Moontrap - Don Berry Read online

  She went back into the cabin, closing the door behind her. In the dimness, cut off from the light of the sun, she went to the bed and sat looking down at the sleeping figure of the child, her hands folded quietly in her lap. For a long time she remained. Then she stood, shaking her head as though to clear her mind, and went back to the cupboard.

  ***

  "Hell," Meek said, rubbing the back of his neck. "That mouse-holler preacher don't amount to a damn."

  "How'd Virginia take it?" Monday asked him.

  Meek shrugged. "Y'know, Virginia, she's pretty hard about things like that. She's seen 'em come an' go. Long as she's got the house an' kids an' me, she don't much give a damn."

  Monday shook his head.

  "Anyways," Meek said, "I got half a notion Thurston put that stuff in that speech his own self. You seen him up there, ca'm as ca'm. He wa'n't surprised none. Me, I think he was just throwin' a rock in the pool t'see what jumped."

  "Well, he knows now, sure god."

  "Mary's all right, I expect? "

  "She's all right. She's—hell, I don't know, seems like she's so moody lately I can't tell what she's thinkin'."

  "It'l1 pass," Meek said. "That's the one thing we're allus sure of, coon. It'll pass. What d'y' say we go down to that there boat, cheer y' up a bit?"

  "Tell y' the truth, I ain't much got the heart for it," Monday said.

  "Nothin' t' give a man heart like a leetle sip o' rum," Meek said. He stood up and looked down at Monday, still leaning back against the porch post. "C'mon, hoss, do y' good. Rainy an' Webb's already gone down."

  "All right," Monday said, standing. "How come you didn't go down with 'em?"

  Meek grinned at him and flipped the reins of his horse off the rail.

  "Oh, I figured as how you might be comin' back."

  Monday looked at him, surprised. "Wagh! You ought t' go on the stage like one o' them mind-readers."

  "Hell, you ain't the hardest man in the world t' figger out," Meek said. "Littler the mind, easier it is t' read. C'mon."

  "By god, I believe I'd like a little bit o" rum. Relax me some."

  "None o' that damn relaxin'," Meek said. "Last time you got relaxed the front yard smelled bad f'r a week."

  "That was different," Monday said defensively.

  2

  They reached the riverbank about a hundred and fifty yards from the beginning of the wagon road that led down to the ferry.

  The sloop-of-war Portsmouth lay at anchor in the middle of the Willamette, her graceful bowsprit pointing upstream. The mid-afternoon sun was brilliant, picking out the ripples of the river in sharp flashes of silver, glinting from the polished fittings of the ship. The sails were neatly furled on the yards, and there was a strong feeling of peace about the long, slim shape of the vessel.

  As they watched, there was a flash of white from the hills across the river, and seconds later the boom of a cannon explosion, echoing across the placid Willamette surface.

  "Where the hell'd they get that?" Monday said.

  "That there's the twelve-pounder McLoughlin brought over from Vancouver," Meek said. "They been shootin' her off ever' now and then all day."

  "Hell of a waste o' powder," Monday said glumly.

  "What's Independence Day 'thout a cannon or two?" Meek demanded. "Anyways, it don't take near as much powder just t' make a noise as it does t' fire ball."

  "She's mighty pretty sittin' out there," Monday said, looking back at the Portsmouth and the stars and stripes that streamed from the flagstaff at the stern.

  "She is, now. Just like a picture or somethin'." Meek started his horse off toward the wagon road and Monday followed. They left their animals near the top of the bank and started down the road to the landing on foot. Halfway down they rounded the corner and met Devaux and Webb coming back up.

  "Hooraw, coons, where's y'r stick floatin'?" Meek said, puzzled.

  Webb squinted at him, wrinkling his nose as though by way of answer. He lifted his hands, fists clenched. in a gesture of helplessness.

  "Enfante de garce!'" Deyaux exploded. "You know what he says, the animal! You know?"

  "Whoa back there, Rainy," Monday said. "Who you talkin' about?"

  "That dunghead down t' the boats," Webb muttered.

  "He say two dollars, the animal! Two dollars to rent a little boat to go out there."

  Monday lifted his eyebrows in surprise. "Jesus god! Meek, ain't that against the law or somethin'?"

  Meek shook his head sadly. "No sir. This here's a free country, man's got a right to make his livin' how he sees fit. Me, I never interfere with a man's profit. It ain't moral." He dug into his pocket and brought out his marshal's badge. As he pinned it on, his chin tucked down to see, he said, "On t'other hand, I never let a man's profit interfere with me. Who's down there?"

  "Heap o' shit with teeth," Webb offered.

  "Me, I don't know the name. The animal, the béte! Is half bald, him, with little spectacles." Devaux made circles with his thumbs and forefingers, holding them up to his eyes to demonstrate.

  "Little Billy Macon," Meek said, grinning. "Come on, deputies."

  Devaux shook his head. "You try that deputy thing once before. Me, I have to swim the river, just for the honor."

  "There ain't going to be no trouble this time," Meek said. "Little Billy got hisself a order o' copper tubing up from San Francisco 'bout a month ago. Ain't but one thing a man'd want copper tubing for, an' that's a still. But you don't say nothin', all right?"

  Monday shrugged. "Hell, I suppose it's worth a try."

  They rounded the last corner before the landing in a group, Meek marching slightly ahead. At the edge of the raw plank dock there were half a dozen tiny skiffs tied up. The short, stocky man heard them coming and turned around. Seeing Devaux and Webb he set his jaw defiantly and folded his arms decisively across his chest. "No pay, no boat," he said. "That's all. I tol' you oncet, you men. Now get out of here."

  About fifty yards out from the dock was one of Little Billy's skiffs, laboriously being rowed by two of the Indians from the Methodist Mission down-valley. It was obviously the first time they'd ever tried to row, and the little boat zigzagged erratically, the only determinable direction being gently downstream. As passengers the skiff held Thurston and four others, all Methodist Mission dignitaries. From time to time the annoyed, sharp voice of Thurston came over the water as he tried to discipline the Indians into doing something they were incapable of doing.

  Meek smiled warmly. "How's business, Billy?" he said conversationally.

  "Some of it ain't bad," Billy said pointedly, staring at Webb. Webb leaned on his rifle and stared back indifferently.

  "Glad to hear it, Billy," Meek said. "Wisht I c'd say the same." He shook his head sadly. "Ain't allus pleasant, bein' marshal."

  "Ain't allus pleasant bein' a ferry hand, neither, " Billy said defensively.

  "I expect there ain't no way to make a livin' altogether pleasant," Meek said absently. "On t'other hand, bein' a ferry hand, y' don't have to bring down a lot o' trouble on y'r friends."

  Suspiciously Billy shifted his eyes from Webb, and glanced at Meek. "What's that mean?" he asked.

  "Hell, I ain't one t' bore y' with my troubles," Meek said. "But, just f'r example, y'take moonshinin', now."

  Little Billy unfolded his arms and cleared his throat.

  "Sometimes I find out a real good friend o' mine's been makin' shine, y' know," Meek told him confidentially. "Then I got t'crack down on him just like if he was a stranger. "

  "Ah—is that a fact?" Billy said.

  "Yup, fact. Five hundred dollars and ninety days," he said slowly "Lot o' money, five hundred dollars. Lot o' time, ninety days. When y' think about it. " He grinned at Billy.

  The ferry hand cleared his throat again and blinked, trying to smile back at Meek. "You, ah, you have any—trouble? Lately, like?"

  "Matter o' fact . . ." Meek said discouragedly.

  With an emotion something like awe. Mon
day thought he saw Little Billy's eyes fill with tears. The stocky man blinked again, all his concentration fixed on Meek's next words.

  "Matter o' fact," the marshal repeated, "I've heard one or two things that make me feel real bad, Billy. Real bad."

  "Whatever y' heard it ain't—Listen, Meek, I got a wife and kids," Billy blurted. "We been good friends f'r a long time, ain't we? I allus been a good citizen here, ain't I?" He held his hands out toward Meek.

  "Hell, yes, Billy. Why y' think I'm here? I got t' check on what I heard."

  "Listen, Meek. Marshal. It ain't true. Hell, maybe a little wine—"

  "You're right charitable, Billy, but I'm afraid I just got t' go out t' that sloop an' see for m'self. Me an' m' deputies, here."

  "Sloop?" Little Billy said. "Sloop?"

  "Hell yes," Meek said with a puzzled air. "I heard there was liquor aboard her, an' I got t' check her out. What'd y' think I was talkin' about?"

  Little Billy wheeled around suddenly and stooped down, beginning to unwind the lashing of a little green and white skiff with a crudely painted "6" on the bow.

  Well," he said, with nervous cheerfulness. "You wa'n't plannin' to swim, was you?" He laughed a little, and with a spasmic gesture handed the rope to Meek.

  "Shouldn't that go in the skiff?" Meek said. "I don't know nothin' about it, but it sort o' seems like foolishness t' stand here holdin' a rope in m' hand."

  "Oh, hell yes," Billy said. "Don't know what I'm thinkin' about." He threw the free end of the line into the skiff. "Ain't m'self today, Joe. All the people comin' an' goin'. You know." He clapped Meek on the shoulder.

  "Climb in, deputies," Meek said.

  With straight faces the three mountain men stepped down into the skiff warily and settled themselves. Webb got in last, stepping too far to one side, and the little boat rocked wildly.

  "This here nutshell ain't seaworthy," he complained. "Ain't you got somethin' that'll holt still a little?"

  "Sit down, coon," Monday said. "You're rockin' the boat."

  "Boat's rockin' me, y'iggerant dunghead! That's what I'm saying!" "Now cut out all that there arguin'," Meek said firmly. "We got t' put our hands on them lawbreakers. Right, Billy?"

  "Right, right," Billy said. "Go get 'em, JJoe. I holt her while you get in."

  Meek got in the skiff with great dignity For a moment they all sat there looking at one another. "Well, for christ's sake grab an oar," Meek said impatiently.

  "There's two of 'em," Monday observed.

  "Me, I got t' save my strength," Meek said, leaning back contentedly in the stern. "Never c'n tell when a shine-merchant'll get violent. Can y', Billy?"

  The ferry hand had grabbed a boathook and was pushing them anxiously away from the dock. "No sir!" he said. "Can't be too careful with lawbreakers."

  With a discouraged shrug Devaux picked up the other oar and clumsily inserted the pin in the oar lock.

  "Don't lose them oars," Billy called over the widening distance.

  "What is wrong with you, Bony One?" Devaux asked Webb. "You don't take an oar."

  "Hell, son," Webb said complacently. "This nigger's way too old for them kind o' doin's. You pull smart on that, hear?" He began to fumble in his shirt for his pipe and tobacco. Contentedly he assembled stem and bowl and began to take pinches of stringy tobacco out of the pouch.

  After a couple of false starts which set the boat rocking crazily Devaux and Monday got their rhythms together and began to pull steadily moving the little skiff out toward the anchored sloop.

  "Some doin's," Monday muttered. "One too old an' the other too weak."

  Meek winked at Webb. "Both too smart, that's the ticket."

  Webb leaned back against the side, giving the skiff a permanent heavy list to starboard.

  "Right pretty day, f'r the kind o' day it is."

  Meek leaned his head back on the stern, in the pillow of his clasped fingers. "It is, now," he said. "Just the day f'r a little boat ride."

  3

  There was an oddly insect-like air about the little skiffs approaching the still sloop; like so many stiff-legged beetles scurrying around the corpse of a dead mouse.

  A boat from the sloop itself, manned by sailors, was heading toward the Linn settlement, on the other side of the river. Meek watched it with interest; the smooth, straight progress, the tiny wake it left behind. The skiffs approaching the sloop were, for the most part, in various degrees of uncontrol, oars manned by hands more accustomed to reins and plows.

  "By god," he said to Monday and Devaux, "strikes me you boys got one hell of a lot t' learn about seafarin'."

  "There's a oar available—any time you want—to teach us," Monday said, grunting. He was on the low side of the skiff—Webb had refused to settle in the middle—and his oar dug deep with each stroke, pulling the boat around to port.

  "Listen, friend of me," Devaux said. "Don't do it so hard, and we go much better."

  "I got to pull, don't I?" Monday complained. "You ain't doin' it hard enough, that's what our trouble is."

  "Now boys," Meek said tolerantly. "Don't argue. just pull."

  "You bastards—got to—row back," Monday said.

  All in all though, they weren't doing much worse than the other visitors. The "official" boat, containing Thurston and the other well-dressed gentlemen, had drifted downstream steadily under the inept handling of the tame Indians. It was making up the distance now, approaching the Portsmouth from astern. Glancing up between strokes, Monday noticed with amusement that two of the dark-suited white men were now at the oars, and the Indians sat hulking in the bow. He would have been willing to stake all he owned that Thurston was not one of the rowers. He could imagine the hard-faced little man boiling inside and dreaming of what he would do to the incompetent Indians.

  "Hooraw, boys," Meek said encouragingly. "Now we're runnin', should o' been a sea captain. I got a natural talent for it. Hey, matey?"

  He nudged Webb with the toe of his boot. The old man opened one eye and examined the admiral carefully. "Wagh! " He snorted. He turned his head sharply and spat over the side to show his opinion of the career Meek was mapping out for himself. The boat tipped suddenly with the motion and Monday's oar plunged deep below the surface.

  "Cut out that goddamn stuff," he said. "I almost lost the oar."

  Webb turned back and shrugged indifferently, settling himself comfortably against the thwart. It made no difference to him. He'd swim if he had to.

  They were near enough to the sloop now that they could hear the voices of the crew and guests. There were not too many people aboard,but the light flashes of high laughter and the flickering of brightly colored dresses gave a very cheerful atmosphere. As they approached, Monday determinedly tried to pull in rhythm, so they wouldn't careen around so much.

  There was an opening in the ship's rail, from which depended a rope ladder. On deck stood a tall, thin man Monday judged to be the captain. The boat of Thurston and the missionary party pulled up to the ladder about twenty yards in advance of their own. A rope was thrown to a waiting sailor on the Portsmouth's deck, and the dignitaries climbed up the ladder. The captain bowed courteously and shook hands, gesturing at the length of his ship and smiling broadly to make them welcome. A smiling, handshaking knot of men formed at the top of the ladder as the rest of the guests mounted.

  The captain saw the boat of the mountain men approaching and shouted down to the Indians in the missionary boat, "Cast off there, cast off." The rope was thrown down and the skiff drifted back along the hull of the Portsmouth, bumping once in a while as the Indians ineffectually tried to shove themselves away. Finally it cleared the stern, and the Indians took up their oars discouragedly and plunged them in the water, drifting off with no clear idea of where they were supposed to go or how to get there.

  Meek waved and shouted, "Ahoy the Portsmouth." in his best admiralty fashion.

  The captain grinned and waved back. Thurston came up to his shoulder, and the captain leaned over to hear w
hat the small man was saying. Slowly the smile faded and his face hardened as he watched the skiff approach.

  The little boat bumped heavily against the hull of the sloop. "Sorry, gentlemen," the captain called down. "All full up for the moment. Come back later." He turned back to Thurston.

  "Let me show you—"

  "Hey, Captain," Meek said, smiling.

  The uniformed man turned. "I said come back later. Put ashore."

  Meek stood in the stern, starting to protest again. The captain leaned forward on the rail, his face angry.

  "Put ashore, I say! Put ashore! There's no room for your kind on this vessel!" He wheeled and called, "Mr. Cole, Mr. Cole!" Another uniform came running up. The captain looked down at the mountain men and said, "Mr. Cole, see that these men go ashore. Under no circumstances permit them aboard. They're troublemakers." He turned back to Thurston and the others, now smiling again. "Come along," he said. "I think you'll be interested . . ."

  Without a glance back the missionary group moved away from the rail and out of sight. At the top of the rope ladder the mate stood blocking the opening, his legs spread and his face hard. "Shove off, you," he said viciously.

  Meek was still standing, looking up at the mate. He licked his lips, thinking, and then suddenly sat down again, rocking the skiff.

  Devaux finally shrugged, put his oar against the hull of the sloop and shoved away. When they were a few yards out, Webb said, "Well, admiral?"

  "That son of a bitch," Monday growled. He shoved his oar into the water and let it dangle there.

  After a moment Meek said, "Y'know what I'm going t'do?"

  "No," Devaux said, without interest.

  "I'm going to get me a black suit one o' these days," Meek said. "Wagh! I am, now." Suddenly he grinned. "But F'r right now, I got a turrible dry."

  "Th'ow y'in the water," Webb said absently He had been little moved by the goings on, simply watching it all from beneath the floppy brim of his hat.

  "Head over t' the west bank," Meek said.

  "What the hell's that goin' to do?" Monday said.

  "This nigger's goin' to have a drink f'r the Fourth, government or no government," Meek said. "C'mon, deputies. Pull."