Come into the office and sit down, Bascomb said.
I don’t need to sit down, James said. I can do my business standing.
Bascomb fidgeted with the files. The teller had disappeared. James heard him bolting the door.
Tell him, James said to Bascomb, to open that door. I won’t be locked in.
Of course, Bascomb said.
Don’t lock up yet, Tallifer, he called out. We’ll all suffocate.
He had James’s card in his hand. James reached for it.
It’s curious, he said, how little a man adds up to.
It takes time, Bascomb said. You haven’t any cheques out, I suppose, he said.
I don’t ever write cheques, James said.
You’ll leave a few cents in to keep your account open, Bascomb said. It’s more convenient.
It’s more convenient for me to take everything, James said.
Bascomb made out a slip and handed it to him.
How will you take it? Bascomb asked.
In tens, James said. It’s easier to keep track of like that.
Bascomb counted the money across the counter: ten, twenty, thirty. James watched the flutter of each bill as it fell from Bascomb’s hand.
Well, there’s your hundred, said Bascomb. He dropped a five dollar bill on the pile. A hundred and five. His hand reached into the cash drawer. Ten, twenty, thirty, he said as he counted the dimes.
Tallifer opened the door for James and shut it behind him.
3
Outside the bank the air was less oppressive. James shoved the money Bascomb had given him into his shirt pocket and buttoned the flap. He would go to the hotel and get a room.
As he passed the General Store, Pockett hailed him.
I’ve got business, James said.
There’s no business won’t wait, Pockett said, except cash business, and a man doesn’t see much of that.
James went in. There were a couple of men inside the store already. They weren’t doing business. Just sitting on boxes in the shadow cast by chaps and saddles hung against the window for display.
I might as well pick up a few things I need now I’m here, James said. A wallet, he said, for instance.
One of the men laughed. Imagine a man wanting a wallet, he said.
James was looking at the billfolds which Pockett had tossed out onto the counter. He bent his elbows on the rough surface and raised his shoulders.
I’ll take that one, he said, laying his finger on a yellow-grained folder. It’s proper gear for a man filthy rich, leastwise by some men’s reckoning.
I suppose you want it put down, Pockett said.
I’ll pay for it, James said, since you seem so anxious on cash business. Besides, when a thing’s paid for in money, you’ve got ownership rights on it and can smash it up if you so choose. I’m beginning to see that a man’s always best to deal in cash.
Pockett made a note on the back of a bag. He edged his face across the counter to James.
Anything else you need? he said.
So happens I do, James said. You can hand me down a couple of pairs of socks and one of those green and blue plaid shirts. And one of the small canvas bags with a bar-lock.
Getting out of these parts? asked one of the men.
Pockett looked up. James was standing now with one elbow doubled on the counter, his hand clasping his wrist.
Shut up, Pockett said to the men. Business is business. A joke’s a joke. A place for everything and everything in its place.
Behind him on the shelves crowded tinned meat and pain killer, scent and rat poison, rivets and cords and nails.
This is not your time for being down, Pockett said to James. I was talking to Bill when he was in on the mail. Everything is running smooth up above, I hope.
He reached for the shirt and socks.
Is it all right if I just put them in the sack? he asked without waiting for an answer to his first question.
Better give the boy a new set of drawers too, one of the men called out. Nothing less sporting than a rip in y’r long johns.
If you can’t settle for being civil, Pockett said, you’d best decide on moving off those boxes.
I might as well tell him the truth, James thought. Or as much of the truth as will stop him guessing.
He hunched his shoulders round away from the men.
We’ve had our troubles since William came down, he said, answering Pockett’s first question.
I thought it would be something brought you down now, Pockett said.
Ma, James said.
Sick and brought to hospital? Pockett asked.
No, James said.
Not gone? Pockett asked.
James nodded. Pockett looked across at the men.
There’s some people, he said, who’s got respect for nothing. Man. Nor beast. Nor God Almighty either. Now a man like me, he said, has got sense enough to know when something’s wrong. When I first clapped my eyes on you in the street I said to myself: James Potter and the beef sale not on. There must be trouble above. I said to myself: He looks like a man in trouble. There’s trouble writ in the hang of his jeans and the drape of his shirt. Yet there’s jokers here who see nothing.
He’d raised his voice. The men on the boxes shifted round and peered out between the legs of the chaps into the dust of the street.
Mrs. Potter, Pockett said, must have been on in years. One of the queer things, he said, leaning across the counter again, is I never had the pleasure of meeting your mother all this time. I guess she never needed anything bad enough to come down.
He was adding up figures on the back of the bag.
That’ll be three dollars and four dollars and a dollar and a half and –
He took a catalogue out of the drawer and searched through it.
That size of bag comes at a buck-fifty bar-lock and all. He put down the figure. Which makes ten even.
James unbuttoned the flap of his shirt and pulled out a bill. It was the five Bascomb had given him. He tried again. This time he got a couple of tens. He gave one to Pockett.
Why don’t you take out all those bills and put them in the wallet? Pockett asked.
The men at the window shifted round again.
I’ve got to be moving on, James said. I’ve got business.
Of course, Pockett said. I’m uncertain in speaking on these things, but you’ve sure got my black-edge sympathy. When’s the funeral for?
James turned away from the counter.
How long, he said, do you think a body would keep in this heat? Up above we do what we can.
It doesn’t bear thinking on, Pockett said.
4
Outside in the distance the hills bent to the river. There were no trees at all. Only sagebrush. From the street James could see a single sinuous curve of the river, the shadows of the clouds passing over the water as the shadow of the branches had lain for a moment on Lenchen’s throat. The river lay still in the sunlight, its thousand pools and eddies alive beneath its silver skin.
James wanted to go down to the river. To throw himself into its long arms. But along the shore like a night-watch drifted the brown figure he sought to escape.
He asked himself now for the first time what he’d really intended to do when he’d defied his mother at the head of the stairs.
To gather briars and thorns,
said Coyote.
To go down into the holes of the rock
and into the caves of the earth.
In my fear is peace.
Yet as James stood looking at the river, his heart cried out against the thought: This bed is too short for a man to stretch himself in. The covering’s too narrow for a man to wrap himself in.
5
From Pockett’s window eyes watched him through the crotches of the hanging chaps. Along the street in front of him was the hotel. To the right the railway tracks disappeared in a bend of the land. The train would go through in the early morning, some minutes past one o’clock.
James walked
down the street towards the hotel. He fingered the pocket of his shirt. He had no idea what a railway ticket would cost. He’d no idea where to buy a ticket to. He knew nothing about the train except that it went to the packinghouse, no way of boarding it except through the loading-pens. All he’d done was scum rolled up to the top of a pot by the boiling motion beneath. Now the fire was out.
He heard a voice at his elbow. One of the men who had been sitting in Pockett’s store was standing beside him. Friendly now. Had come cat-footing through the dust and stood at James’s shoulder.
What you need, boy, he said, is a drink: I’d hate to think that a near stranger had come from above and no one laid a dime on the table to help him through his trouble.
Who said I was in trouble? James asked.
You yourself, the man said. A fellow can’t help hearing what’s said across a counter. There’s no one really wants death. It’s trouble whichway you look at it.
He shook his blond head.
My name is Traff, he said.
Well, James said, let’s go. It’s out of the sun in there. It’s away from the dust.
He turned to Traff.
It’s what might be called friendly of you, he said.
6
The hotel lobby was empty. The calendar marked the month. The clock the hour. It was quarter to five.
Through the open doors of the lobby and dining-room James could see the Chinese cook slipping about in his black cotton shoes. The cook’s apron was untied and hung loosely from a tape which circled his neck. Everything had a hanging and waiting look.
I want to get a bed for myself, James said.
Paddy’s probably in the bar, Traff said. It’s not always handy being clerk and bartender in one.
When they opened the door into the beer parlour Paddy was leaning across the bar talking to Shepherd and Bascomb. His parrot sat hunched on his shoulder.
It was the parrot who noticed James and Traff first. It raised a foot.
Drinks all round, it said, falling from Paddy’s shoulder to the counter and sidling along.
Paddy looked up.
James Potter, he said. What’s brought you to town?
The parrot swung itself below the inside edge of the counter and came up with a tin mug in one claw.
Drinks on you, it said.
James opened his pocket and pulled out a bill. Paddy brushed the bill beneath the counter and reached for the glasses. The parrot rattled his cup on the bar.
How many? Paddy asked.
Make it a double all round, James said.
Bascomb got up without speaking and went out.
Well, Traff said, that’s what I call friendly. He drew up a chair for James, and sat down opposite Shepherd in Bascomb’s seat.
Paddy brought the glasses.
Since there’s one less, he said, here’s one on you. He took one of the glasses and poured some beer into the parrot’s mug.
What brings you down at this time of year? he asked James.
Trouble, said Traff.
I hope nothing’s happened to Bill, Paddy said.
No, his old lady, Traff said.
James looked up. The parrot seemed to be watching him over the rim of its mug.
She was old, James said, speaking to the parrot. It was the heat that took her and climbing round in the creek bottom.
What would an old woman be climbing around in the creek bottom for? Traff asked.
Drinks all round, the parrot said.
James shoved the two bills which Paddy had put down towards the parrot. The men hitched their chairs closer.
What was your old lady doing in the creek bottom? Traff asked again.
Fishing, James said.
What for? Traff asked.
What would a person fish for but fish, Shepherd said.
No one rightly knew, James said. He emptied another of the glasses which Paddy had brought from the bar.
I suppose you came in to see about the funeral, Shepherd said.
No, Traff said. She’s buried. They had to do it themselves on account of the heat. A person doesn’t lie softer for satin and polish, he said.
People don’t lie easy in our family, James said. He got up.
You’re forgetting your bag, Traff said.
Paddy, he called across, how about fixing this gentleman up with a room.
Paddy took his apron off and threw it across the bar. Just keep an eye out for a minute, he said to Shepherd.
When James turned to follow Paddy, Traff picked up the duffle bag.
Shepherd looked up. How come, he said to Traff, that you’re so well acquainted with Potter?
That’s not your concern, Traff said. It might as well be me as someone else. Besides, he said, is there any law against a man showing himself friendly in case of need?
He followed James out.
The parrot dropped to the floor and came shuffling over to Shepherd.
Drinks all round, he said, pulling at Shepherd’s ankle.
O shut up, Shepherd said.
7
Paddy had gone behind the desk in the lobby. He reached for a key. He handed it to James.
That’ll be four dollars, he said.
You giving him the bridal suite? Traff asked.
What’s that to you? James said. Mind your own damn business.
I was only trying to save you, Traff said.
James felt in his pocket for a bill. Paddy unlocked the till and counted six dollars out onto the desk.
James thought: I’ve eight tens, this six and thirty cents. The thirty cents embarrassed him. He took it out and put it down in front of Paddy.
Buy the parrot some beer, he said. It’s little enough he must have to live for. One parrot in this whole bloody universe of men.
He doesn’t seem to care, Paddy said, picking up the dimes. He gets his way because he’s a unique. Men don’t often have their own way. It’s not many have the rights of a dumb beast and a speaking man at the same time.
James turned from the desk. It was six-thirty. In the dining-room men were sitting over empty dishes, their bodies shoved forward, their elbows resting on the cloth. The room was filled with smoke and silence.
James put the bills Paddy had given him in his pocket.
What you need is some hard liquor, Traff said. But I’m not in a position to stand you to that. I know where I can get it, though. Give me the price of a bottle, and I’ll go over while you put your things upstairs. Then we can go round to Felicia’s and see the crowd.
Paddy had stopped at the door of the bar and was listening.
Get on about your business, Traff said to him. You can’t expect Shepherd to wait forever. He’s not paid for doing double duty the way you are.
He took the bill which James gave him and went out.
Paddy walked back across the lobby.
We don’t know any good of Traff round here, he said to James.
When I want your advice I’ll ask for it, James said.
Paddy turned and went back into the beer parlour. James could hear the parrot’s voice raised on a note of authority and the sound of feet bringing men in from outside. He took the seventy-six dollars out of his pocket and put them into his wallet.
He picked up his bag and went to the foot of the stairs. The stairway was quite empty. He looked back over his shoulder across the lobby. The bar door was half open, and through the opening he saw Paddy looking at him.
When I need any man’s help, James said, I’ll ask for it.
8
The room above was furnished with a bed, a chair, and a dresser. James locked the door behind him. He opened the drawers of the dresser one by one. There was nothing in the drawers except some folded newspaper, a hairpin, and a chamber-pot. James ran his hand over the striped bedcover and peered underneath the bed. He picked up the chair and set it down again. Then he changed his shirt and socks.
When Traff came back after a long time, James opened the door and went out with him.
9
Outside, night seeped up from the ground and down from the sky. Through the strip of purple and green light Traff took James down past the stable to the river flats where the half-breeds had settled, and the Chinamen who owned the market gardens. Felicia’s house stood beyond the shacks and outhouses on the clay bank of the river.
Traff opened the door himself.
I’ve brought a friend, he said.
In one corner of the room, on a bedspring and mattress propped up on blocks, sat a woman. In the lamplight and shadow James could not see whether she was young or old.
Bring him in, the woman said. Any friend of yours is welcome. Anyone’s welcome who comes here looking for a little company.
The room was hot. Filled with the odour of bodies and kerosene burning away. Tainted with the damp smell of mud and dead fish.
There was another man in the room and two girls. The girls lay on the end of the bed, their arms linked, their feet shuffling together on the floor. The lamp cast a shadow under the arched hollow between their shoulders and buttocks.
Jimmy brought along a bottle, Traff said. He’s in trouble and needs cheering up.
The woman got up from the bed.
Any friend of Traff’s is all right, she said. Her body was tight in its cotton dress. She went across the room and took the bottle from Traff.
You fellows eaten? she asked.
No, Traff said. What have you got? How about some picked herrings and onions?
You got the price? the woman asked.
Sure, James said. Bring anything. It’s a long time since I ate.
Give us the bottle, Fleeza, one of the girls said, rolling over on her side.
Hands off, Lilly. Traff said. That’s man’s stuff and old woman’s stuff. He reached out and, pulling Felicia towards him, lifted her chin with his fingers.
Everything’s fifty-fifty with this one, he said, and a settled account.
It’s my business, Felicia said. When pleasure’s your business, there’s no call to give more than you get.
The two of them went into the kitchen together. The man who had been sitting on a box got up and followed them.
The Double Hook Page 7
