Tiger's Chance

by H. V. Elkin

  “Disobeyance, Judge?”

  “You admit it then. Turn in your badge, Cutler.”

  “You never gave me one.”

  “Five dollars fine for losin’ your badge. What’s next?”

  “How about Sam losin’ his gun?” Cutler asked.

  “Tell the court how that happened.”

  “He got the drop on me,” Sam said. “He made me leave my gun out there by the horseshoe hill. Holster, too.”

  “Cutler?”

  “That’s true, Judge.”

  “Cutler, court instructs you to buy from the court a new gun for Sam.”

  “Why’s that, Judge?”

  “For disposin’ of State property without the consent of the State.”

  “You mean if Sam has to shoot at a sheep rustler, you’re gonna make him pay for the bullet?”

  Bean spluttered, “’Course not. Deputy’s authorized to use State property in the performance of his duty.”

  “Well, Judge, wasn’t I a deputy ’til you just asked for my badge?”

  “That’s a technicality.”

  “But a true one, ain’t it?”

  “Well, yes, I guess it is. What of it?”

  “Well, I made Sam dispose of his property in the performance of my duty, Judge, and that’s the truth of it.”

  Bean opened the statute book and ran his finger down the page. He nodded sagely, then said, “Fine revoked. Court adjourned.”

  “Hold on,” Cutler said.

  “You got more business to bring afore this court?” Bean asked.

  “More of the same business, Judge, yes, I do.”

  “Proceed,” Bean said, then glancing at McKay, “off the record.”

  Cutler was no stranger to what went on in a real courtroom. He had been called on to testify before Judge Parker a great many times when he was a marshal. In his way, Parker was almost as eccentric as Bean, and Cutler figured Bean, like Parker, would be impressed by anyone who showed he knew something about the law, preferably something the judge did not know himself. Cutler stood facing Bean and folded his arms over his chest so as not to distract the judge with the bloody, torn appearance of the shirt.

  “Your honor,” Cutler said somberly, “it’s been my experience in other jurisdictions that a busy judge has to work on the basis of priorities. I figure this court’s as busy as any other.”

  “Busier,” Bean said.

  “So we got our priorities then.”

  “Damn right.”

  “Okay. As I see it, we got two issues here. One’s my stayin’ on the circus lot as instructed. The other’s to get the tiger which killed some of the judge’s sheep and which is a threat to the voters of Pecos country and which is keepin’ the circus from movin’ on and threatenin’ it with bankruptcy. Will the court grant that them are the two issues?”

  “Hell, yes.”

  “Now which of them’s the bigger priority?”

  “Catchin’ that damn tiger. You know that.”

  “Well, Judge, I think I know that, but I can figure you’d understand me bein’ confused about the other priority.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong, Cutler. You had your orders. They was clear enough. You got no call to be confused.”

  “Is the court aware of my specialty for catchin’ rogue animals?”

  “Naturally.”

  “Well, you see, that’s where the confusion sets in. Why would the court give me the job of watchin’ the circus when I’m the one with the best chance of catchin’ the tiger?”

  Bean thought a moment. “I already told you. You ain’t an expert on foreign animals, Cutler. Hansen is. That’s his job, catchin’ the tiger.”

  “That’s got me confused, too, your honor. I know Hansen can handle tigers in cages, puttin’ ’em through the paces they’ve been doin’ time after time. But what qualifies Hansen to go huntin’ tigers on open range?”

  “It ain’t the position of you to question the rulin’s of this here court, Cutler.”

  “No sir, I’m just tryin’ to explain why I got confused. And I figure lots of others’d get confused over them same facts. Figure folks what knew about it’d put them facts together in some way damagin’ to the fine reputation of the Law West of the Pecos.”

  Bean looked at McKay who held up his hands to show he was not holding a pencil.

  Cutler went on. “What I’m sayin’, Judge, is people got to be confused, or they got to think the court wants that tiger not to get caught. Then, of course, they’d probably get confused about that and have to start figurin’ a reason for it. Not sayin’ I would. Just pointin’ out the way other folks was likely to see it. They’d look at the fact that I was told to stay with the circus while Hansen goes out into unfamiliar territory and don’t catch the tiger. Then they’d wonder what Sam here was doin’ out where there was a trap laid for the tiger. They’d wonder why Sam stepped in front of it and chased it away from the trap by shoo tin’ that six-gun he ain’t wearin’ anymore. No tellin’ what folks’re gonna start thinkin’ when they get started on facts like that. Hard for folks to think of Sam as just as deputy and not your son, Judge. Either way, he’d look tied up in a conspiracy of some kind, either as the deputy of the court or the son of Roy Bean or both.,,

  Bean glanced at McKay again, then at Sam, then back to McKay. “Mike, you understand this stuffs confidential and you ain’t to go writin’ it down and confusin’ people more?”

  McKay looked at the noose. “Perfectly clear, your honor.”

  Bean looked doubtful, then stared at Sam. “Sam, did you obstruct the capture of that tiger today?”

  Now it was Sam’s turn to look confused.

  “I’m talkin’ to you, boy!” Bean shouted.

  “Look, Pa . . .”

  “I ain’t your pa when I’m holdin’ court, deputy!”

  “Yes sir, your honor,” Sam said. “But I wasn’t out there to get in the way. I was after Cutler who’d left the circus and did what you told him not to.”

  “What about the tiger?”

  “Damn thing was comin’ toward me. I wasn’t just gonna stand there. ’Course I fired my gun to scare him back.”

  Cutler unfolded his arms and pointed to his chest. “Your honor can see the result of that.”

  Bean glared from one to the other, then at McKay. “On the record!” he yelled, and McKay quickly picked up his pencil.

  Bean intoned, “It bein’ the opinion of this court that one of its deputies kept the tiger from bein’ captured today, the court holds itself responsible to the circus for one day of average income. This amounts to a day of grace for the Maroney Circus, removin’ one day of its nearness to bankruptcy. Such a sum as is determined to be an average daily take for the circus to be deducted from the deputy’s future pay.” Bean looked back at McKay. “You got all that?”

  “Yes, sir,” McKay said.

  “Pa . . . !” Sam started to protest.

  “Furthermore,” Bean went on, “owin’ to the deputy’s contempt of this here court ...”

  “What contempt?”

  “... the deputy’s contempt,” Bean went on, “in referrin’ to the court as ‘Pa,’ the deputy is hereby removed from further obstruction of justice and assigned to guard duty of the sheep herd up to the northeast, not to return to Langtry until such time as he is informed that the tiger is caught. Cutler takes up his deputy duties again in the meantime.”

  Sam rubbed his hands over his face and mumbled something.

  “That further contempt I hear?” Bean asked.

  “No, your honor,” Sam said. “Just sayin’ I got to go to the outhouse.”

  “You got it all?” Bean asked McKay.

  “Yes, your honor,” McKay said.

  “Well, Cutler, you figure this’ll take care of all the confusion?”

  “Most of it, your honor.”

  “What’s left?”

  “Well, do I have the court’s assurance that my mules, my dog and my rig are where I left ’em and that I
can take ’em away from Langtry?”

  “Why’d you want to do that?”

  “Well, that might be part of the other thing. Do I have the court’s assurance that it wants me to get that tiger?”

  “Hell, yes!”

  “Then I might be needin’ my rig.”

  “You got that, too. Nobody could get near your rig anyway ‘less he shot that dog.”

  “Well then,” Cutler said, “there ain’t no more confusion to speak of. Not just yet anyway.”

  “Okay, now maybe you can settle the court’s confusion.”

  “Glad to. What’s the court confused about?”

  “Court’s wonderin’ why it’s takin’ you so damn long to pay the five dollar fine for losin’ your badge.”

  Five dollars lighter but with his property otherwise intact, Cutler rode his wagon out of Langtry toward the circus lot. He had to smile about it. Bean’s performance had been almost amusing enough to justify the fine for its entertainment value. Anyway, Cutler knew he had not seen the last of Bean, and the next time they met, he intended to get the five dollars back with a lot of interest. But that was for later. For now, the five dollars had bought Cutler the license to do what had to be done without any more interference. Unless that interference came from Hansen. Cutler would have to do something about that now.

  Molly was the first to see him as he rode up, and when she did, her face went white. Still in a good mood, he could not understand why she looked at him as she did, until he realized she was looking at his bloody chest.

  “You’re hurt,” she said.

  He had forgotten about it. He stopped the wagon and felt the blood-caked place where his shirt was ripped. It did not hurt badly enough even to mention. He figured that if there had been any danger of infection, Sam’s whisky had done the job. “I’m okay,” he said, putting his hand on the dog’s neck and rubbing Red behind the ears. “Some hot water and some more medicine and I’ll be fine.”

  “You sure?”

  He nodded, and then she smiled. “I’ll get the water for you,” she said and rushed off toward the cookhouse, stumbling once, then recovering her footing and moving on with deliberate casualness as though nothing had happened.

  Cutler watched her until she was out of sight. Then he shook his head about what he was feeling and thinking. He clucked his tongue about it, and the mules, mistaking this for a signal, moved forward. This surprised Cutler out of his thoughts. He let the mules continue and rode his rig behind the main tent. There he unhitched the team where they could feed on hay piled up for the circus menagerie. Apache joined them. And the Airedale was left to guard the rig.

  As Cutler turned to go, Red growled deep in his throat. Cutler turned back in time to see Hansen disappearing behind the tent. The dog had always been an excellent judge of character.

  In the cookhouse, Cutler took off his shirt and sponged hot water over his chest. Molly looked flushed as she stared at the red marks the tiger had made, then nervously turned her attention to opening a jar of ointment. She had trouble getting the top off and that seemed to make her angry as she said, “You could have been killed!”

  “Almost was.”

  “Why don’t you leave the tiger to Eric from now on?”

  “I figure that’s no way to get the tiger back.”

  She looked up at him.

  “Don’t you think so?” he asked.

  She nodded slowly. “I guess so. Don’t know why, though. It’s just a feeling.”

  He held out his hand. She looked confused a moment, then handed him the salve. He took the top off and started to dip his hand into it.

  She snatched it back. “No, let me.” She scooped up some of the yellow ointment with her slender fingers and started to rub it into the wounds on his chest. Cutler felt the coolness of the salve and the warmth of her fingers coming through it. She rubbed gently, with a slow sensuousness, taking longer than necessary to apply the medicine, briefly closing her eyes a couple of times. She seemed to be touching a part of his body that connected to a lower part, and Cutler felt a stirring of some kind inside him. In a moment at least one of them was likely to be embarrassed. Cutler quickly turned his thoughts to the seriousness of the situation. A tiger was loose, he reminded himself. Lives were in danger. And a circus might have to go out of business. He might be the only one who could correct that and, whatever he did, he had to do it fast. He marveled that at such a critical time, he could have been amused by Judge Bean, or that he should respond as he did to Molly. What had happened to his old singleness of purpose and the grim determination that went with it?

  ‘That’s good,” he said abruptly. “That’ll do.” He got up quickly and backed away from her outstretched hand. He paced around restlessly. “You ever catch a wild animal before?”

  “No,” she said, “not in my whole life.”

  He smiled at the way younger people always thought they had lived a long time. Then he made himself stop smiling. “Well, that’s gonna change.”

  “It is?”

  “I figure.”

  “You want me to help you?” It sounded as though she had a pretty look on her face, but he did not look at it to see.

  “Maybe I do. Least I need somebody I can trust to tell me what I need to know.”

  “I don’t think of myself as a brave person, John. But whatever you want me to do, I’ll do it.”

  Maroney came rushing into the tent. “John, Eric told me what happened. Are you all right?”

  “I’ll live.”

  “It was a lucky thing Eric was with you, John.”

  “How do you figure?”

  “To keep the tiger from killing you.”

  “Yeah, guess that’s one way of looking at it. But next time I’m goin’ out without him.”

  “But why?”

  “Because that’s about the only way you’re gonna save this circus.”

  “Ah,” Maroney shook his head, “it is almost too late for that.”

  “Maybe not. Judge Bean’s gonna bankroll today for you. He figures his son was responsible for us not gettin’ the tiger this time.”

  Maroney raised his eyebrows. “It is hard to believe that the judge would do such a thing.”

  “Well, he’s got one eye on history these days, so I figure he’ll keep his word. But that don’t mean you’re free and clear by any means.”

  “No, but it does help. If she can be captured tomorrow, I think we can make it. Can she be captured tomorrow, John?”

  “I’ll do my best.”

  “But without Eric, eh?”

  “Talking about me behind my back?” Hansen’s voice from the tent opening was trying to sound light, but it still had a cynical tinge to it. Cutler looked up at him and saw that he was holding the whip.

  Cutler stared at him accusingly. Hansen seemed to be more interested in a fly that was buzzing near Cutler, attracted by the sweet smell of the ointment on his chest. Then Hansen looked up at Cutler, read the look correctly, and gestured with his whip.

  “Yes,” Hansen said, “I had to go back to get it. I couldn’t leave my old friend lying out there on the desert, not after it’s protected me so well for so long. Besides, someone had to go back to fill in the pit. I doubt Anna would go into such a trap again, but perhaps one of the judge’s sheep would, and then there would be more hell to pay, don’t you think?”

  Hansen flicked his whip at a table, sending a tin cup clattering along the length of it. “This whip is like the rest of my arm,” he said, “I just don’t feel complete without it. Unprotected without it. Why, with this, I could whip the tongue from a snake.” He lashed out at another cup and it went sailing up, bounced back off the canvas top and fell near Hansen’s feet. Hansen kicked it aside. “How do we catch Anna now, Cutler?”

  “We don’t.”

  “You mean you’ve given up?”

  “I mean you ain’t in on it anymore.”

  Hansen looked at Maroney.

  Maroney said, “John is in charge no
w, Eric. It’s our only chance.”

  Hansen smiled. “Well, you’re still the boss, Fred.” He gave an emphasis to “still,” making it sound as if Maroney might not be the boss forever. “But, Cutler, you might be sorry next time if you don’t have me and my whip along with you.”

  “No, Eric,” Cutler said. “Don’t think so. You just stay here and practice killin’ tin cups.”

  “I don’t have to use it on cups,” Hansen said. “Could use it on a man if I had to.”

  “Not a man who carried a gun,” Cutler said.

  “It’s a lot longer than a gun.”

  “A gun’s reach is longer . . . and faster.”

  “Don’t know about that last part.” Hansen flicked at the fly and the buzzing stopped. Molly and Maroney jumped back, but Cutler did not move.

  “If you’re done with showin’ off,” Cutler said, “I’ve got things to do.”

  Hansen nodded somberly, turned and left.

  Cutler said, “He’s startin’ to show his true colors.”

  Maroney tried to explain it away. “We are all on edge these days, John. We express it in different ways.”

  “Fred, try puttin’ your loyalty aside for a minute, and you’ll see what I see. What I think Molly’s beginnin’ to see, too.”

  Maroney shook his head. “I guess I do not want to see it.”

  “I might’ve killed that tiger when she was on my chest,” Cutler said. “But Hansen whipped the knife out of my hand. He said the knife just happened to be in the way. Well, after the little demonstration we just had, do you think Hansen hits anything by accident?”

  Maroney was still shaking his head. “What can we do to help you? We can’t have Eric arrested. There is no evidence that what you say is true. It is all guesswork. Whether or not we like his personality, he may be an honest man. I believe he is. I believe we are mistaken in suspecting him of wrongdoing. He may have whipped your knife because Anna’s life is important to him, even more important than yours, John. And if this is so, what is there to prove he is guilty of anything more than a wrong way of looking at things, of placing an animal’s life before a man’s?”

  “Fred, if Bean ever puts me on trial for anything, I hope you’re on the jury. You bend over backwards to be fair, and that’s good. And, hell, I know you’re right. There’s nothin’ to prove Eric’s any kind of outlaw. But if I get shot at, and then I see a man holdin’ a gun, I’m bound to think that man ain’t my friend. Not likely I’m gonna figure he pulled the gun to protect me from somebody else. And I sure as hell ain’t gonna want to have him around anytime my back’s turned. It may not be your kind of fair way of lookin’ at things, but it just might be an attitude that keeps me alive.”