Read Online Billy the Kid by Theodore Taylor - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Theodore Taylor
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sounded off. Kate glanced up, certain that her husband was causing the ruckus. The dogs had a special way of barking when he came home.
The room was nicely furnished. A big grandfather clock, made in England and passed down through the Monroe family, dominated it and ticked away soberly. Kate had acquired a black leather roll-arm couch and a chair to match. There was a marble-topped table with a rose vase on it. On one wall were large gold-framed pictures of her late parents. On another was a photo of her wedding day, below which hung a framed flowery certificate pronouncing Willis Monroe and Kathryn Mills to be man and wife. Willie was very proud of this living room. There wasn't a nicer one in the area.
Her husband crossed the porch heavily and came in, dropping his hat and jacket to the chair. She couldn't decide whether he looked tired or grim. Perhaps both. He seemed unhappy. He bent down to kiss her, and then sighed guiltily at the wringer parts. "I'll do that for you in a day or two." Four trackers waited for him beyond the split-rail fence.
Kate surveyed her work again and replied, "If I can find Bolt D, then I..." She stopped and looked up at him. She asked innocently, "You get the drunks put away?"
"What drunks?" Willie asked, frowning. He'd forgotten what he'd told her after Pook had ridden up. He had far too much on his mind to remember what he'd said, almost absentmindedly, in the early afternoon.
Kate sat back on her haunches. "Those men that pointed their bottles to stop a train. You told me you were going into town because some drunks got out of hand."
Willie remembered and flushed. He sighed bleakly. "All right, Kate." He began to move toward the bedroom, unbuttoning his shirt on the way, wondering how to tell her about Billy.
"Why do you lie to me?" she called after him. It was an exasperated tone rather than one of accusation. "Pook told me about the train."
Willie tossed the answer across his shoulder. "So you wouldn't worry." He went on into the bedroom.
Kate rose to follow and stood in the doorway, staring at her husband, now peeling out of the cotton shirt. "Never entered my mind, Willis." She'd never called him
Willie.
"Now, the fact that the last sheriffâ"
"Please, Kate. Not tonight." There was a bite in his voice as he pegged the shirt.
It wasn't worth a fight, she decided. She shrugged and asked, "You want supper?"
Willie shook his head. "I stopped by Fong's on the way here and got a sandwich."
As he turned toward her, she spotted the chest bruises from Earl Cole's boot heels. They were blue-black now. "What happened to your chest?"
He looked down, suddenly aware of them. "Nothin' fatal. They'll be gone in a day or two."
Kate went to him, laughing in frustration. "Now I'll bet you're going to tell me a cow kicked you." She inspected them as he started to move away. "Stand still, Willis," she ordered. "You can't go to bed like that."
"Kate, I'm not going to bed."
Kate wasn't paying attention. She just assumed he was in for the night. She went to the bureau top to lift off a bottle of Sloan's Liniment. As she crossed back to him, she said chidingly, "People who tell lies should be punished. I hope some skin comes off."
Willie eyed her as, with a soft rag, she daubed the stinging liniment on his chest.
She looked closer at the bruises. "I think that cow wore boots. These are heel marks, aren't they? Is that part of a sheriff's jobâlet people walk on you?"
Willie didn't have time to answer. Outside, the pack mule must have banged against a tracker's horse, and the tracker yelled gutturally, in Yavapai, for the mule to settle down.
Kate looked toward the front with a questioning frown. "Someone's out there."
Willie acknowledged, "Trackers. I have to leave in a few minutes."
Kate's head came around slowly. Her eyes held a mixture of concern and disappointment. "Well," she sighed, "we've got an ambusher's bullet hole here not four months old." She touched the ugly pink and
The room was nicely furnished. A big grandfather clock, made in England and passed down through the Monroe family, dominated it and ticked away soberly. Kate had acquired a black leather roll-arm couch and a chair to match. There was a marble-topped table with a rose vase on it. On one wall were large gold-framed pictures of her late parents. On another was a photo of her wedding day, below which hung a framed flowery certificate pronouncing Willis Monroe and Kathryn Mills to be man and wife. Willie was very proud of this living room. There wasn't a nicer one in the area.
Her husband crossed the porch heavily and came in, dropping his hat and jacket to the chair. She couldn't decide whether he looked tired or grim. Perhaps both. He seemed unhappy. He bent down to kiss her, and then sighed guiltily at the wringer parts. "I'll do that for you in a day or two." Four trackers waited for him beyond the split-rail fence.
Kate surveyed her work again and replied, "If I can find Bolt D, then I..." She stopped and looked up at him. She asked innocently, "You get the drunks put away?"
"What drunks?" Willie asked, frowning. He'd forgotten what he'd told her after Pook had ridden up. He had far too much on his mind to remember what he'd said, almost absentmindedly, in the early afternoon.
Kate sat back on her haunches. "Those men that pointed their bottles to stop a train. You told me you were going into town because some drunks got out of hand."
Willie remembered and flushed. He sighed bleakly. "All right, Kate." He began to move toward the bedroom, unbuttoning his shirt on the way, wondering how to tell her about Billy.
"Why do you lie to me?" she called after him. It was an exasperated tone rather than one of accusation. "Pook told me about the train."
Willie tossed the answer across his shoulder. "So you wouldn't worry." He went on into the bedroom.
Kate rose to follow and stood in the doorway, staring at her husband, now peeling out of the cotton shirt. "Never entered my mind, Willis." She'd never called him
Willie.
"Now, the fact that the last sheriffâ"
"Please, Kate. Not tonight." There was a bite in his voice as he pegged the shirt.
It wasn't worth a fight, she decided. She shrugged and asked, "You want supper?"
Willie shook his head. "I stopped by Fong's on the way here and got a sandwich."
As he turned toward her, she spotted the chest bruises from Earl Cole's boot heels. They were blue-black now. "What happened to your chest?"
He looked down, suddenly aware of them. "Nothin' fatal. They'll be gone in a day or two."
Kate went to him, laughing in frustration. "Now I'll bet you're going to tell me a cow kicked you." She inspected them as he started to move away. "Stand still, Willis," she ordered. "You can't go to bed like that."
"Kate, I'm not going to bed."
Kate wasn't paying attention. She just assumed he was in for the night. She went to the bureau top to lift off a bottle of Sloan's Liniment. As she crossed back to him, she said chidingly, "People who tell lies should be punished. I hope some skin comes off."
Willie eyed her as, with a soft rag, she daubed the stinging liniment on his chest.
She looked closer at the bruises. "I think that cow wore boots. These are heel marks, aren't they? Is that part of a sheriff's jobâlet people walk on you?"
Willie didn't have time to answer. Outside, the pack mule must have banged against a tracker's horse, and the tracker yelled gutturally, in Yavapai, for the mule to settle down.
Kate looked toward the front with a questioning frown. "Someone's out there."
Willie acknowledged, "Trackers. I have to leave in a few minutes."
Kate's head came around slowly. Her eyes held a mixture of concern and disappointment. "Well," she sighed, "we've got an ambusher's bullet hole here not four months old." She touched the ugly pink and
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