Magnus stiffened, and came to a stop. Slowly he turned. It was Herman Bell, night watchman. “Yes?”
Herman Bell was sitting on the front stoop of the middle cabin, picking his teeth. “My God, Doc, you look like you’re about to plug somebody.”
Magnus’ trigger finger continued to prickle.
“If you’re looking for rabbits, Doc, I can tell you where there’s a couple. In my garden. They’re finishing off what the frost missed.”
Magnus’ left nostril fluttered once.
Herman Bell had a red nubbed face. His eyes were black, hard, speculative. “There been a burglary uptown?”
“No.”
Herman Bell’s eyes steadied on the gun in Magnus’ hand. “No?”
“No.”
“Then maybe it’s rats you’re after?”
“No.”
Herman Bell continued to pick his teeth. “Not that I worry about you, Doc.”
“No.”
“How’s the wife and kid?”
“Fine.”
“You sure got you a winner in that boy.”
“Thanks.”
“Chip off the old block.”
“Hm.”
Herman Bell threw away his toothpick. “You know, Doc, that missus of yours, she’s some, she is. Ain’t a pair of pants in town but what he don’t begrudge you your pretty little Kitty. Man.”
Magnus shuddered.
“A word to the wise, though, Doc. You better pet that pretty wife of yours a little or you’ll lose you a good woman. I know doctors are awful busy, but—”
“Thanks!”
Herman Bell got to his feet. “You sure gave me a scare there though for a minute, Doc. I’d hate to have to arrest you, ha, ha. Any man that can pick a penny out of the air and drill it plumb center is too much for me to shoot it out with.”
With an impatient gesture Magnus squared his bow tie under his chin.
Why don’t you try strychnine, Doc? If it’s rats you’re after?”
“I might do just that.”
“Hum. Well, Doc, you know how it is. I was only in-quirin’.”
Magnus waited stiffly.
“Well, happy hunting. I’m off to light the street lamps.” Herman Bell shook the wrinkles out of his pants, cocked his round hat at an acey-deucy angle, and headed for downtown.
After a moment Magnus broke out of his stance and went on.
A couple of steps from his house Magnus stopped. He checked the bullets in the cylinder of his revolver. He listened intently. Then he began searching the loose dust on either side of the path.
“Hi, Dad. Play some bad with you.”
Magnus jerked erect. “Damn.” What a devil of a time for the boy to show up. Just when he was about to catch them at it. Besides, it was already too dark to be playing badminton.
“Say, Dad, what’re you doing with that gun?”
“Nothing.”
A light went on in the back of the house, casting an orange glow over the fallen garden. Kitty was in the kitchen.
Magnus asked, “Mom got supper ready?”
Roddy eyed the gun in Magnus’ hand with interest “Is our puma back again?”
Magnus looked down at his gun; then stuffed it into his coat pocket.
Roddy hit his leg a slap with his racket. “The kids in school was telling about the Indians seeing some fresh panther tracks down by the stockyards.”
Magnus flashed his teeth. “The animal I’m looking for the Indians call a two-legged.”
“Oh.” With a swift movement of his hand, Roddy swept back his wavy brush of sun-touched brown hair.
Magnus let down a trace. Slowly he settled on his heels and then beckoned for Roddy to come closer. Roddy came and Magnus put his arm around him. “Son?”
Roddy stood quietly inside his father’s arm. He shot his father a single sidelong look, more at his father’s lean cheek than at his livid eyes.
“Son?”
“Yes?”
“You know what I told you the other day?”
Roddy shot his father another look. “You mean about that man sneaking around here window-peeking?”
“Yes. What’re you going to do when you catch him?”
“Quick run over and call Herman the cop.”
“Right.” Magnus gave Roddy a hard squeeze around the hips. “And if it should ever happen that he gets into the house and is actually attacking Mother, then what?”
“Grab the shotgun and let go with both barrels.”
“Right.” Magnus gave Roddy another quick hug. “Though you wanna be careful and not hit Mother.”
“’Course.”
“You’ve got to do that now. No matter what. Remember.”
“Don’t worry.”
Darkness fell as they talked. Soon lamps were blazing on all over town and men walking home were carrying lanterns.
“Son, when it comes to harming women, these bad men will stop at nothing.”
“Are they like road agents, Dad?”
“More like wild animals.”
A small fog, creeping in off the Missouri, slowly widened up the Floyd River and then spilled into Perry Creek. As it spread, the fog engulfed lighted windows and lanterns one by one, softening them from sharp sunstone to pale moonstone. The fog held thin and the scattered lamps and lanterns gleamed as if they were gems caught in flung gauze.
“Remember now. Shoot the minute you see your mother in any kind of danger. Even if it’s your father. You hear?”
The pupils of Roddy’s green eyes widened. Slowly he nodded.
“Because I always want you to remember that we men have got to protect our mothers. No matter what.”
“Is there a real wild-animal man loose around in town here, Dad?”
“I suspect so.”
“You know for sure, Dad?”
Magnus let go of Roddy and stood up. “Suppose I was the wild-animal man molesting your mother, what would you do? Really now.”
Roddy lifted his racket to his shoulder and aimed it right between Magnus’ eyes. “Boom!”
“Good. Now let’s go in to supper and Mom.”
But Roddy wasn’t done with it. He shot a look at the pocket where Magnus had put the gun. “Really, Dad, what was you really looking for?”
“Come. Into the house with you.”
“Dad?”
“That wild-animal man.”
Roddy ran ahead to open the door for his father.
Magnus stomped his feet on the doormat to let Kitty know he was home.
“Need cat eyes to see in here,” Roddy said.
“Your mother should have lit the lamp for us.”
“She was probably too busy, Dad.”
Magnus dug a match out of his pocket, stroked it alive on the sole of his shoe, and put it to a lamp on a side table. Instantly soft illumination bloomed inside the lamp chimney. Walnut chairs, two bookcases, a black leather sofa, the painted portrait of Uncle George Worthington came to view.
The surface of Uncle George’s portrait was dry and cracked, and its brown frame had begun to part at the corners. Because of the buckling canvas, one of Uncle George’s dark eyes had begun to look cockeyed like a baffled sportsman. Above the portrait hung the Worthington family coat of arms: barry of white and azure with Frisian stallion rampant on dexter chief.
Both Magnus and Roddy let their eyes linger on the portrait of Uncle George a moment, then Magnus skimmed his hat onto the hall tree.
They passed into the dining room.
A pull-down lamp spread a cone of soft gold light in the center of the room. Table was set. Gleaming silver neatly flanked three blue-edged plates on white linen. The reflection of the set table glowed in the mirror over the walnut sideboard. A maidenhair fern, hovering on a flower stand in front of the bay window, stirred a little as if it were a little green octopus floating lazily in midair.
Kitty came in carrying a platter of meat in one hand and a bowl of onions and potatoes in the other. Kitty set them b
oth at the head of the table in front of Magnus’ place. “Roddy, wash your hands.”
“Aw, Ma, I—”
“And please put that racket away.”
Roddy set his racket in a corner. He threw a look at his mother, then went off to wash up.
The moment the boy disappeared into the kitchen Magnus flashed Kitty a silverish look.
Kitty moved about with long vigorous strides. She had done up her light-brown hair in a high glossy roll. She had on a green apron over a yellow flowered dress. Her sensual lips were more than usually dented at the corners.
Magnus sat down in his armchair at the head of the table. He was careful to arrange his suit jacket so that the revolver in his pocket didn’t bump against the arm of his chair.
Kitty placed a carving set beside his plate.
“Anybody leave a call today?” Magnus tucked his napkin in under his chin.
“Nobody.”
“Nobody come at all?”
“Nobody.”
Magnus grunted.
Kitty next brought out the silver tea service. She placed a cozy over the teapot. She checked the table carefully, to see if anything had been forgotten, and at last, with a sigh, sat down at her end.
The two waited for Roddy to come.
There was some splashing in the kitchen, then the sound of a tin washbowl being emptied, then the soft sounds of hair being licked over with a brush.
Magnus picked up the carving knife and fork. “Roddy!”
“Comin.’”
Kitty wetted the fleshy part of her lower lip with the tip of her tongue. “Don’t be so rough on the boy always.”
Magnus let his carving knife and fork drop with a clatter. “Dammit, Kitty, please don’t interfere with my methods of discipline.”
“And whose discipline are we to use when you’re out on call?”
“Mine. An extension of them. Surrogate.”
“And if you should happen to die tomorrow?”
“Ah. Looking forward to that already, eh?”
“Maybe.”
“You see!” Magnus’ fingertips crouched on the white tablecloth.
“Ahk! Ahk!” Roddy warned from the door. “Here we go again.” Roddy drew up his chair to the table. “I sure wish you two would quit fightin’ once.”
Magnus and Kitty threw each other a surprised look, then stared down at their plates.
Roddy bowed over his plate. “Lord Jesus, look down in mercy upon us, bless this food, forgive us our sins … and please for goshsakes make Dad and Mom quit fighting all the time, it’s hard on my stomach, I can’t eat sometimes. Amen.”
Kitty’s lips edged up at the corners.
Magnus picked up his carving knife and fork again and slowly began to vibrate.
Kitty gave her table yet another look. “Oh, dear. I forgot to set out the water after all. Roddy, would you please get it for me?”
“Yes’m.” Roddy went to get them each a glass of water.
Magnus waited until Roddy had finished, all the while continuing to vibrate at his end of the table.
Roddy had just barely sat down again, when there were solid steps outside, then a rap at the back door.
Kitty groaned. “Oh no. It would have to be just as we’re about to eat. Roddy, go see who it is, will you, please? And ask them if they can’t come back in half an hour.”
“But I’m hungry, Mom.”
“Do it,” Magnus ordered.
Before Roddy could get to his feet, the back door opened and Herman Bell’s flat unemotional voice sang out in the kitchen. “Oh, Doc?”
“Yes?”
Herman Bell stepped into the doorway of the dining room. “Begging your pardon, Doc, but Ted Jakes wants me to pay you his respects and to say that his wife’s about to pop with her sixth. I’ve got the horse and buggy waiting outside for you.”
Magnus slapped down his carving knife and fork. “By the Lord!” Magnus jerked off his napkin, got to his feet.
“But, Magnus, I’ve just put the dinner on,” Kitty protested. “Can’t this Mrs. Jakes wait a little? A few minutes?”
Herman Bell held his head to one side. “Ted Jakes says his wife’s already pretty far along. And you know how it is, a stitch in time saves nine.”
Red spots appeared on Kitty’s cheeks. “Och! that Jakes. He’s as bad a worrier as his old granny of a father was. Always shaking hands with the devil before he’s met him.”
Herman Bell held his head to one side even farther. “Mrs. Jakes has always had ’em in a rush, Mrs. King. I know. I’ve delivered several myself.”
Kitty got to her feet too. “Daddy, please, I don’t want you to go without eating something.”
“I’m really not hungry,” Magnus said shortly.
“You’re slowly turning to skin and bones.”
Magnus turned to Roddy. “Get my bag.”
Herman Bell said, “You didn’t have it with you when you came home tonight, Doc.”
Magnus clapped a hand to the pocket where he’d put his revolver. “So I didn’t.”
Kitty’s eyes opened some. “That’s the third time you’ve forgot your bag in the last week, Magnus.”
“It’s all right,” Magnus said. “We can drive by the office and pick it up.”
“What’s the matter with you lately, Magnus?” Kitty touched Magnus lightly on the elbow. “You’ve become so forgetful.”
Magnus brushed off her touch. “Nothing’s the matter with me. Please don’t interfere.”
Herman Bell’s head came up. “Don’t worry, Mrs. King. Your husband’s got a lot of things on his mind.”
“I still don’t like it.”
“Mrs. King, we here in Sioux City, we’re thankful Magnus ain’t like the last doc we had. Old Doc Walker. Why, Old Doc Walker was sometimes so mean from overwork he made the cook whistle in the kitchen to make sure she wasn’t eating raisins.”
“Thanks.”
“Don’t mean no misrespect, Mrs. King. But out here in the sticks, where doctors come and go like tumbleweeds, we get some pretty funny pills, let me tell you. There ain’t only one kind of feller nuttier than a doctor on the frontier, Mrs. King, and that’s a printer.”
“I’ll keep the supper warm for you, Magnus.”
“Don’t bother. I’ll grab a bite downtown. You never know about these things.”
“Bye, Dad.”
“Bye, Roddy.”
A deep sigh welled up out of Kitty. “I still don’t like it, Magnus. You’ve been acting so funny lately. I’m afraid.”
“Pah!”
Roddy’s eyes came up in a wondering query. “Say, Dad?”
“Yes?” Magnus turned in the doorway.
“On the way back, maybe if you was to come along real sneaky like, maybe you can catch that wild-animal man you was lookin’ for. Window-peekin’.”
Magnus grimaced fiercely. “Maybe.”
Kitty’s face opened. The look of a startled doe came into her eyes, glistening, transparent. “Magnus?” Her eyes widened so far their strange dissimilarity gleamed vividly clear, the left eye as though obscured with racing green smoke, the right eye a severe brown. “Daddy? A wild-animal man?”
Herman Bell suddenly became alert too. “Did you say window-peeper, boy?”
Roddy saw right away he had said the wrong thing. Roddy dropped his eyes. “Dad and me was just joshin’ around before dinner is all.”
“Window-peeper?” Kitty echoed. She placed a hand on Roddy’s shoulder. “Here?”
Roddy suffered his mother a moment, then moved out of her reach. “I said we was just jokin’ around about it.”
But Kitty wouldn’t let Roddy go. She leaned forward and stroked back his hair. “Tell me, handsome is as handsome does, did Daddy say there was a wild-animal man window- peeking?”
Magnus made another fierce face. His large lips opened just enough to show even white teeth. “Let’s shake a leg, Herman. Lead the way.”
6
Four inches of snow dri
fted down during the day. It gave the little town of Sioux City a ghostly look. It made spectral the Indian dead lashed to stick scaffolds pricking out on Morningside Heights. There was no wind.
Into the silence of pure white a pileated woodpecker occasionally broke and rebroke the air with its rolling clatter on a hollow cottonwood. The steamboat St. Louis, arriving for the last time that season, also let go with several shrill shattering blasts.
That evening, light lingered for a long time after the sun went down. Each chimney exhaled a slim white plume a straight thousand feet high. The voices of children playing in the snow suggested angels. People took a couple of steps, then stood and looked. Just looked.
Down the path in the snow came slim courtly Magnus again, wearing his usual black hat and a dark Chesterfield coat. He came swiftly, overshoes scuffing out little throws of loose phosphorescent snow to either side. His face was blenched and his eyeballs were slightly protruded. A revolver also flashed in his hand again.
He went around to the back of his house and bounded up the stoop and burst into the kitchen.
Kitty was getting supper ready. Light from a kerosene lamp glowed golden on the bright papered walls.
He started firing the moment he saw her. His first shot caught her along the hairline.
She screamed and ducked down.
His next shot caught her in the hand, nicking the flesh between thumb and forefinger.
She screamed again and tried to hide behind the woodbox.
His next shot exploded in the toe of her left green button shoe.
“Magnus!”
His next shot ripped her belt on the right side. The belt dropped to the floor.
She came up out of her crouch and ran for the bedroom, screaming as she went, “Daddy, please don’t kill me! Please. I’ll do anything you say. I’ll admit anything you say. Oh, God, I’m being murdered! Help! Help!”
He glimpsed her silhouette against the lighted bed lamp and his next shot nicked her left breast. The ball sliced across just below the nipple. Blood spurted.
She dove under the bed. “Help, help! My husband is killing me! Oh, God, God!”
He sank to his knees and elbows and peered under the bed. He spotted the outline of her mouth moving against the yellow wallpaper. He fired. This time he caught the outer edge of her green eye.
In a flash she slithered out from under the bed on the other side and clawed up the wall all in one motion. “Roddy, Roddy! Can’t you do something to stop your father? Oh, God!” Then she collapsed and tumbled backward onto the bed.
King of Spades Page 7
