Tiger's Chance

by H. V. Elkin

  There was no time to think about it. Cutler let the whip follow its owner, then let himself over the side of the bridge and clung to the trellis, hanging on stubbornly as he was shaken by the wind and the rain and the train moving overhead.

  Chapter Ten

  Cutler rested against the edge of the pool table as he waited for the proceedings to get underway. Bean sat behind the bar in his alpaca coat, the Texas Statutes book open before him.

  The Jersey Lily was crowded, not only because of the rain which had been coming and going for the past two hours. Bean had assembled a jury of all the men available on short notice—the man who ran the general store across the hall, half a dozen cowboys, and a whisky drummer in town on business—all of whom had a personal interest in Bean’s well-being. They were four men short of a proper jury, but they would have to do. They were scattered about the saloon, sitting wherever they felt like it or fortifying themselves at the bar.

  No occasion was ever too serious for Bean to turn away or postpone business. As one cowboy was served, he raised his beer bottle in a toast to the picture of Lily Langtry that hung behind the bar, and the judge nodded in acknowledgement of the compliment to his taste.

  Seated on the corner cot were Maroney and Molly. They had come to town to check on the arrangements Bean had promised to make with the railroad. They thought they might be leaving on the next train. They had not expected to be detained as possible witnesses in a murder trial. Molly looked worried when she edged her way beside Cutler. “John, was it . . . ?”

  “Murder?” Cutler asked, saying the word she could not. “Guess we won’t know that ’til we hear how the jury figures it.” That did little to console her. He took her hand in his. “Don’t worry,” he said. “Remember, the judge’s got a weak spot.”

  Molly looked at the picture of Lily Langtry. “Maybe two.”

  Then Cutler saw how striking the resemblance was between the picture and Molly, and he thought he understood why Bean would go so far to own a circus if Molly was a part of the deal. “Maybe two,” he repeated.

  Molly saw a confidence in Cutler’s eyes that made her feel a little better, and she went back to sit beside Maroney on the cot.

  Considering the situation he was in, Cutler was feeling surprisingly good about things. There had been no pleasure in seeing a man die, even a man like Hansen. But there were some side benefits. Most of the threat to the circus and to Molly’s future had been removed. A job had been finished successfully. And the tiger was still alive, might tie able to be retrained and live out its life in relative peace. It did not always happen that way. The animals Cutler hunted did not always survive, could not survive in their crazed states. Cutler had spent a lot of his life cleaning up the mistakes of others and killing animals to do it. Not this time. This time only the rogue man had died. And the tiger had another chance. Cutler’s anger was gone and his mind was clear for his murder trial.

  “Order!” Bean pounded the bottom of an empty beer bottle on the bar. “Order! Court’s in session. This here’s the trial of John Cutler who stands accused of doin’ in a fella named Eric Hansen of the Great Maroney Circus. That’s Cutler over there. Hansen’s still lyin’ under the railroad bridge and we’ll take care of him after the rain stops. We’ll use the time we’re waitin’ to take care of the murderer.”

  “If found guilty, Judge?” Cutler asked.

  “What?” Bean scratched his stomach. “Well sure, if found guilty. That goes without sayin’.”

  The door swung open revealing a bleary-eyed Mike McKay. He had a piece of paper in one hand and a pencil in the other. “Oh, excuse me, your honor. Didn’t know you were in session.”

  “Get on back to work then,” Bean said.

  “Yes, sir.” McKay started to go.

  “Just a minute,” Cutler said, and McKay stopped.

  “Prisoner don’t have no rights to give orders in this here courtroom,” Bean said and waved McKay to go away.

  McKay started out again. “Hold on!” Cutler yelled loud enough to make McKay stop. “Your honor, I believe I am entitled to counsel?”

  “What do you want to consult about?”

  “I mean a lawyer to defend me. I pick McKay.”

  “He ain’t no lawyer.”

  “My choice, ain’t it?”

  “Well, okay. I’ll let it go for now. But you be careful what you say or McKay goes.”

  Cutler smiled, glad that the judge still had his weak spot. “I believe any testimony I’m gonna make’ll turn out to be favorable to the judge.”

  Bean was dubious. “Well, I said it was okay. Now let’s get this thing over with ‘cause it’s holdin’ up business. Guilty or not, Cutler?”

  “Not guilty.”

  “You got a lawyer to say that for you, ain’t you?”

  Cutler nodded to McKay and McKay said, “Not guilty, your honor.”

  Bean frowned. “You know, Cutler, court might look more kindly on a man who didn’t give it so much trouble.”

  “Sorry, your honor,” Cutler said. “But I believe I can help speed the proceedings if you’ll let me plead my own case and just keep McKay here for when I need him.”

  “Okay, talk. But keep it short and watch what you say.” He looked around the room at the jury members. “You boys listenin’?”

  “We’ve reached our verdict, your honor,” one of them said.

  “Well, hold up on that until I ask for it. Law requires the defendant gets to say a few words first. Go ahead, Cutler. Shoot.”

  “Thank you, your honor,” Cutler said. “Now, I believe until I was accused of murder I was a deputy.”

  “What of it?”

  “Well, sir, I maintain that Eric Hansen died while I was in the performance of my duties. The judge wanted the tiger caught, ain’t that right?”

  “Naturally.”

  “And I guess that means the judge wanted the tiger to stay caught.”

  “Thought you promised to make this fast, Cutler.”

  “Your honor, Eric Hansen was the one who made the tiger crazy and set her free in the first place. I started out after him when I caught him tryin’ to let her free again.”

  “You got any proof of that?”

  “Just my word as a deputy which I was at the time.”

  “That ain’t good enough, Cutler. The jury will retire and . . .”

  Bean was cut short by the door opening. A Mexican in a big sombrero and a serape came in, reeling like he was drunk.

  “Get that Mex out of here!” Bean ordered.

  Cutler said. “It’s an open courtroom, ain’t it? Any citizens got a right to see this trial, don’t he?”

  “Not when he’s drunk,” Bean said.

  Cutler put a hand on the Mexican’s shoulder. “Sober up, Torres.”

  “Yes, senor,” Torres said, removing his sombrero and walking in a straight line to a vacant chair.

  Cutler said, “Wish the judge’d see fit to take my word as a deputy without any other proof.”

  Bean glared at Torres, then looked back at Cutler. “Well, we’ll see. Won’t say I will and won’t say I won’t. You got any more to say . . . without callin’ a witness?”

  “Without callin’ a witness, your honor, I’d like to tell this court about Hansen’s last words.”

  “Court can’t admit hearsay, Cutler.” Bean said. Cutler glanced at Torres, and then Bean said, “But go ahead.”

  “In his last moments, Hansen showed himself to be a cheat and a liar. Not only did he admit the charges I made about him but he threw suspicion on you, Judge. Claimed you two was in cahoots and that he was workin’ with you to get possession of the circus.”

  “Cutler!” Bean’s voice had a warning in it. There was a murmur among some of the jury members, and Bean pounded the beer bottle on the bar. “Order, damn it!” The room quieted down. “Cutler, are you accusin’ this court of wrongdoin’? Because if you are . . .”

  “No, your honor. ’Course not. That’s my whole point. I’m showi
n’ the deceased to be a dirty liar who didn’t deserve to live. Think I’d like to call on my counsel now to give a true picture of the judge, and you’ll see what I mean.” Cutler nodded to McKay.

  McKay puffed himself up and proceeded to have a good time. “Yes, sir, be glad to.” He paused dramatically and looked around at the room. “My authority to speak on this matter is based on access I’ve been given to certain documents in the judge’s possession, newspaper clippings and the like about the judge’s exploits. As the sole biographer of the judge’s life to date, I am the only living authority on his honor, next to himself of course. Well sir, for any man to accuse the judge of any but the highest standards of morality and conduct is reprehensible. Why, Judge Roy Bean did not get to be the Law West of the Pecos by being underhanded. My research and my personal knowledge of the judge has prove beyond the shadow of a doubt that he is Langtry’s most upstanding citizen. No sir, he is the finest man in Texas, I would say, and maybe the whole country.”

  Bean nodded somberly. “Counsel is repeatin’ himself. If I’m the best man in Texas that’s the same as bein’ the best in the whole country.”

  “I stand corrected, your honor.” McKay paused.

  “Well go on,” Bean said impatiently. “Get on with some more of your testimony.”

  “No further words,” McKay said, “could do justice to the Justice of the Peace. All that might be added— and I will add it at the risk of further repetition—is that the judge is a very fair man. I would go so far as to say that never since Solomon has there been one fairer. I rest my case, your honor.”

  “Solomon who?” Bean asked, wondering about the competition.

  “King Solomon, your honor, from the Bible.”

  “Oh. Then he’s dead.”

  “Very much so.”

  “Well, that’s all right then.”

  “Your honor,” Cutler said, “if I may . . . ?”

  “Go ahead, Cutler.”

  “I’m glad counsel said all he did about your honor. Does this prove my case that Hansen dishonored your honor and that way he showed himself to be unreliable? Does that substantiate what I said about him bein’ the one who let the tiger loose?”

  “Well,” Bean ran his fingers through his beard, “guess it might. But I ain’t the jury. What do you boys think?”

  The jury seemed to agree with the verdict.

  “Well then,” Bean said, “in that case, I guess you ain’t guilty, Cutler.”

  “Thank you, Judge. Now there’s just one other thing.”

  “What’s that?”

  “A matter of damages.”

  “The man’s dead. How’s he gonna pay damages?”

  “Well sir, it might be that Hansen had some reason to be mistaken about your honor.” Cutler looked at Torres. “Your honor might’ve said something that was innocent but that gave Hansen the wrong idea. Now, that ain’t exactly Roy Bean’s fault, but like McKay said, the judge is a fair man. And he probably wouldn’t want to see a circus go out of business over something that might’ve been said in this room last night.”

  “You addressin’ this court or Torres, Cutler? Which is it?”

  Cutler looked back at Bean. Bean was glaring, having guessed what Cutler what leading up to. “Sorry, your honor,” Cutler said. “Meant no disrespect. I just wanted to suggest that, so there won’t be any doubt about it-now,” he glanced at McKay, “or later in the history books, that the great town of Langtry should see to it that the circus is paid for any inconvenience caused by any possible misunderstandin’s that might or might not have happened between your honor and Hansen. What do you think, Judge?”

  “You askin’ me to forget about the sheep and turn over the whole forty dollars? Done.”

  “That’s a damn good start, your honor. But on account of what happened here, the circus also owes me a thousand dollars for my services. Thought maybe the judge could see his way clear to takin’ care of that, too.”

  There was a long silence before McKay shouted, “That’d make one hell of a chapter in the book, your honor! Why, it’d bring people from all over the state just for the pleasure of drinking a beer in the Jersey Lily!”

  The jury cheered, and Bean glared at them. “There’s a lot of longwinded sonsabitches in this courtroom!” he yelled and the cheering subsided. Bean glared from one to another, his expression changing to sadness when he saw Molly who was smiling prettily at him. “Hell!” he said and tore his glance from her, but then saw Torres. Looking at Torres hard, Bean said, “A thousand dollars goin’ to end the matter, is it?”

  Torres nodded.

  Cutler said, “A thousand five dollars, your honor.”

  Bean spluttered. “And five! What the hell’s the five for!?”

  Cutler pointed to the spot on his shirt where a deputy badge had never been pinned. “Expenses, your honor.”

  Bean glared at Cutler. “That comes to a thousand and forty-five dollars, that right? That the total damages you’re after, or you got some more cards up your sleeve?”

  Cutler looked doubtful, went over to Maroney and whispered something in his ear. Maroney was smiling, then whispered something back.

  Cutler stood up and told Bean, “Your honor, Mr. Maroney’s agreed not to seek damages for the fire in the menagerie tent if the judge will make good his word to straighten things out with the railroad so they can all get on to their next payin’ job.”

  “Well now,” Bean said, “that’s mighty nice of Maroney. The court’s grateful over his generosity.” He looked at Molly a moment, then made up his mind. “Court figures the price is cheap if it gets rid of a circus which is turnin’ out to be a pain in the ass. Cutler, I’m finin’ you here and now for bein’ a pain in the ass yourself.” Cutler raised his eyebrows. “What’s the fine?”

  “Drinks for the jury,” Bean said, slamming the beer bottle on the bar with such force that it broke. “Court’s adjourned. Bar’s open.”

  Chapter Eleven

  The circus lot was disappearing into memory. The colorful pennants were gone from the faded green expanse that had been a circus tent, and the tent was now a flat carpet that was being folded by canvas men with a rough familiarity. The animal cages in the distance were a silent parade on its way to a nearby railroad siding. There was a sadness in the faces of some children who had come from town and a couple of nearby ranches to witness the event. But among the circus people, after their imposed idleness, the blood had begun to move more quickly and there was ail excitement about finally moving on.

  The circus was no longer needed to give color to the desert. After the rain, the ground had become dotted with stools of bunch grass, pink wild onion and golden bitterweed. Like the circus that was moving on, the desert that would stay displayed a kind of stubborn, sassy hope.

  Having finished her own part of the moving, Molly stood nearby as Cutler finished hitching the mules to his wagon. They spoke laconically about the results of the rain, both of them knowing there were other things that were not being said. They were running out of small talk when Maroney joined them.

  He shook Cutler’s hand warmly. “John, if you ever change your mind,” he said, “there will always be a place for you with the circus. Perhaps someday, after you get your bear, then you will reconsider my offer, yes?”

  Cutler smiled. He wondered who he would be after he caught the grizzly. Would there be anything left of him then? If anything was left, would he be the kind of man who could travel with a circus? Or the kind of man who would team up with a girl like Molly? He thought about one of the strange results of all his work. After nearly every job he had ever finished, there was some new possibility for the future. He had ridden away from so many people or places that could have been, for him, a new home. And he was about to do that again. The difference was that the circus was also moving on.

  “Maybe,” he said. “You never know. You keep your circus runnin’, and then we’ll see.”

  “Oh, I think we will make it now.”

&n
bsp; “This’ll help.” Cutler handed Maroney some bills.

  Maroney took them before he realized what they were. Then he tried to hand them back. “No, John!”

  Cutler pushed his hand away. “Keep it. It’s five hundred, half my fee, not the whole thing.”

  “We had an agreement,” Maroney protested.

  “Fred, I won’t tell you how to run your business. Don’t try to tell me how to run mine. Now, if you remember clear, there was five of your own people who helped me catch that tiger. I always pay my help, so you keep that money.”

  Maroney sighed happily. “Thank you, John. Now there is no question that we will survive.”

  “Even without an animal trainer?”

  “We pass near the place where the old trainer lives. By now he will not like retirement, I think.” He smiled from Cutler to Molly, then sensed he had intruded on something. “I must go now. Thank you again, John. We are all deeply grateful.” Then he turned and left.

  “How about you?” Cutler asked Molly. “Figure you’ll ever use your diamonds to retire with?”

  She looked down at her boots. “I don’t know. If I had something else to do, I might. I might, to settle down on a ranch, raise a family.”

  He took her in his arms. “Don’t wait for me to ask you.”

  She nestled against him in that disturbing way. “No. And I wouldn’t ask you now. There’s something there,” she inclined her head back toward the folded tent, “something more to get out of my system, I guess. And, anyway, I know you too have something else you have to do. I know this in my head. But my heart says something else.”

  “Yeah?”

  “It’s still hard to understand how two people can meet and love and then go off in different ways.”

  “That ain’t something you understand. It’s just the way it is.”

  She put her arms around his neck and hugged. “I’m not unhappy,” she said. “I feel as though I’m taking something more away with me.”