True Grit - "With No Lodestar In Sight", Mattie/LaBoeuf, T
Title: With No Lodestar In Sight - 4/12
Author: lindentree
Rating: T
Character(s): Mattie Ross/LaBoeuf, Rooster Cogburn
Word Count: 6,812
Summary: Five years after her adventure in the Choctaw Nation, Mattie Ross runs afoul of a fugitive. She soon finds herself in familiar company, if not familiar territory.
a sight for sore eyes
It took Mattie and LaBoeuf nearly two days to reach Hot Springs, arriving in the town just before sunset on the second day.
The lands they passed through, heading southwest, were thick with pine woods and sparsely populated. There were only occasional small farms in clearings as they went, and Mattie found that the people of this part of Arkansas were not nearly so friendly and neighbourly as they were in Yell County. Often they simply stood in their dark doorways, staring at Mattie and LaBoeuf as they passed, and no smile or hail of welcome was sent their way. Mattie was disappointed. She had thought all of Arkansas was filled with generally decent folk, but the dwellers of these piney hills and valleys seemed coarse.
With little else to occupy the saddle-bound hours, they talked, and Mattie soon came to know many things about LaBoeuf, including the fact that his full name was Virgil Emery Theo LaBoeuf, he would rather eat dirt out of the road than ever again lay eyes on a piece of hardtack, and that although he thought his sister’s husband to be a “cussed fool” he enjoyed visiting them in Pineville when he had the leisure, for his five nieces and nephews there were very amusing. She also found that when he left off drinking whiskey, things were much pleasanter between them.
For her part, Mattie felt at liberty to speak of her own siblings, and of her plans for the farm. On that second afternoon, as they approached Hot Springs, she found herself talking about her father, and his many schemes, and the little sojourns they used to take to hunt on the Petit Jean, and how he loved to play tricks and make Mama laugh. After some tales she fell silent, thinking on what tales she might have been able to tell had Tom Chaney not come into their lives and cruelly and unjustly ended her father’s. Five years had passed since his death, but that slight had grown only marginally easier to bear. Some sad or pensive look must have crossed her face, for LaBoeuf cleared his throat and spoke.
“Although it is the natural way of things for children to bury their parents, it is a hardship to lose a beloved parent when you are young,” he said. “My own father passed out of this world when I was but twelve years old.”
“What happened to your father?” Although LaBoeuf had spoken of his family, he had mentioned his father only in an oblique way which led Mattie to believe that he had died.
“He took a wound at Sharpsburg which festered and killed him. My mother was devastated, and with my older brothers away fighting, she had but my sister and me to comfort her.” LaBoeuf paused here and looked out at the horizon for a moment before continuing. “I wanted nothing more than to run as fast as I could to Maryland and put a bullet in those men who killed my father. I tried to enlist but they would not take me even as a drummer boy, small as I was. Of course by the time I was fifteen, they were not quite so particular.”
Mattie had heard about LaBoeuf’s truncated and ignoble service in the war during their previous adventure. She thought of how heartsick his mother must have been, with her husband dead and all her sons off fighting. Mattie wondered if, having already been widowed, the woman saw any glory in those last months of war, or if she simply wanted her sons to return home safely. Mama used to say that she had not cared if the Union won the war and burned them all out of their homes, so long as Papa came back to her in whatever condition God saw fit to send him.
“Your mother must have been greatly relieved to have you all at home again, when all was said and done,” Mattie said.
“Yes, she was,” LaBoeuf replied. “It did not last long, for soon we were all off scattered to the four winds, but by then she was occupied enough with seeing Claudine married and settled, and we have always been diligent in our regular letters to her.”
“Do you enjoy correspondence, Mr. LaBoeuf?”
“Certainly, both the sending and the receiving of it,” he replied. He frowned, and cleared his throat. “Although at times we are very busy in Ysleta, we do have our ‘dry spells,’ so to speak, and it is a fine thing to have letters to read, and to respond to. Perhaps when all this business is done, you would like to send me a letter from time to time.”
“All right,” Mattie said. She felt a smile tug at her mouth, and she turned her face away, feeling oddly hesitant for him to know how much the thought of an occasional letter from him pleased her. Sourly, she reflected that already she was turning into a silly old spinster.
They rode on in silence for some time longer, until the pine-forested hills began to give way to a gently sloping valley which contained a small, pretty town in its basin.
“I believe that is Hot Springs,” LaBoeuf said, reining Sal to a halt.
“It is a handsome place,” Mattie observed.
“You may not find it so handsome when you get a taste of what goes on here. There are parts which are fine and civil, and in fact downright grand, but it is a town full of gamblers, taverns, and music halls. I understand that it is a popular stop for eloping ‘lovebirds,’ also.”
Mattie pursed her lips, her cheeks feeling unaccountably warm. “I see now why Cunningham would make certain to pass through.”
“Indeed,” replied LaBoeuf. “We should not delay if we want to find somewhere to stay and get the lay of the place tonight.”
“All right.”
On riding into Hot Springs and finding themselves on what appeared to be the main street, Mattie thought the little town even prettier up close than it had looked from a distance. There was a block of respectable hotels whose signage boasted mineral treatments for relaxation and every kind of ailment. The buildings gleamed white in the sun, their wide fronts supported by enormous columns. It was a handsome effect, although privately Mattie thought it ostentatious.
Near the train depot, LaBoeuf stopped and spoke with a young boy selling hot peanuts. The boy pointed up into the town, and after LaBoeuf favoured him with a coin, they rode in that direction. They soon found themselves traversing a block which housed a different character of hotel altogether.
These hotels were neither respectable nor grand, and most had rough taverns on their main floors. LaBoeuf stopped in front of one, dismounted, and began tying Sal to the hitching post. Mattie followed suit. This hotel called itself the Princess Hotel. Its clapboard front was grey and weathered, its once bright red sign faded to a rusty brown. Thin, discoloured curtains flapped limply out of the open windows in the upper floors, and the sidewalk out front was littered with broken glass.
LaBoeuf paused on the stoop of the ugly little building, and turned to look at her. He regarded her for a moment before speaking. “I reckon it would be a useless exercise to ask that you stay out here and let me go in alone,” he said.
Mattie considered it, and then nodded. “Yes, it would be.”
“All right then.” He led the way, holding the door open for her rather solicitously.
“Thank you,” Mattie said. His courtesy surprised her, although on reflection she was not sure why, for his manners had always been agreeable enough to her, if not his opinions.
Although the Princess presented itself as a hotel, it seemed that its primary purpose was a tavern, for the front doors opened directly into a wide room which was filled with small, round tables, and dominated by a broad wooden bar. There was a doorway to the left which led off to a foyer containing a desk and a staircase. The tavern was dusty and stuffy, and nearly empty of people.
A man was slumped over at the end of the bar, a half-full glass of whiskey clutched in one limp hand. The barkeep was wiping glasses with a dingy rag at the other end. A slight young woman carrying a pile of dirty linens came through the room, eyeing LaBoeuf and Mattie with great suspicion before disappearing into a back room beyond the bar.
They approached the bar, and LaBoeuf leaned forward to speak to the barkeep, who did not look up from his work.
“Sir, I am looking for information about a man by the name of Albert Cunningham. Do you know him?” LaBoeuf reached into his buckskin coat and removed a coin, which he placed on the bar top.
The barkeep paused his wiping, and looked at the coin. He then looked up at LaBoeuf. “Who are you to be looking for information?”
“I am a Texas Ranger,” LaBoeuf said in an important tone, “and Mr. Cunningham is in considerable trouble with the law. Your assistance would be appreciated.”
There was a groan from the man at the end of the bar, and what sounded like it might have been a belch. Mattie wrinkled her nose.
“This man is taller than me, but shorter than him,” she said, gesturing at LaBoeuf. “He has brown hair and blue eyes, and he will have had a bandaged wound on his neck. Do you know him?”
The barkeep seemed about to respond when the man at the end of the bar groaned again and began to speak, his voice a low slurring of words.
“Shitfire!” he swore. “I had a suspicion that chasing after that damn stock thief was a fool notion, and here is the proof. If I had known the two of you were after him, I woulda stayed home. Surely he will turn himself over to the law to save himself the aggravation of being followed by Sergeant LaBoeuf and his deputy, Mattie Ross.”
The speaker was Rooster Cogburn.
“Oh, hell,” LaBoeuf muttered under his breath.
“Marshall!” Mattie exclaimed, spinning about to look at the grizzled man leaning heavily on the bar, his stool wobbling as he tried to stand.
“Hidy, Cogburn. What brings you to Hot Springs?” LaBoeuf asked.
“Dad blame it,” Cogburn cursed, ignoring LaBoeuf and giving his grubby coat a sharp yank. He appeared to be tangled up in his clothing, and his holster. He also appeared to be inebriated.
“Do you require assistance?” Mattie asked, approaching him. He stopped his fussing and sat back on the stool, peering at her with his one eye.
“Ah, it is you. Thought the drink had got to me and I was seeing imps and fairies. Hmph,” he said, turning away to finish off his glass of whiskey with a grimace.
“Yes, it is I, Mattie Ross,” Mattie replied. “You are a ‘sight for sore eyes,’ Marshall. How came you to be in Arkansas? I heard you had gone to Texas.”
“Texas! Do not speak to me about that dry, godforsaken cow patch. The whole blasted state can go to the devil. I did not care a whit for it,” he said.
LaBoeuf cleared his throat. “I believe Cogburn said he was on the trail of a stock thief. What stock thief is that, Cogburn?”
“I am looking for your man Cunningham. He is wanted for murder in San Antonio, and I am after the bounty on him,” Cogburn replied.
“Ah,” LaBoeuf said. He glanced at the barkeep, and then back at Cogburn. “Perhaps we should have our parley in private.”
After procuring another drink, Cogburn followed LaBoeuf to a table in the corner, but not without considerable grumbling. The three of them sat down, LaBoeuf with his back to the near-empty room.
“What do you know about Cunningham?” LaBoeuf asked.
“I know he is a canny son-of-a-bitch,” Cogburn replied. He glanced at Mattie, and then cleared his throat. “Man’s a stock thief. Shot a range detective down in San Antonio and lit out. Been tracking him for near two months. What do you know about him?”
“I know he is wanted for murder and stock thievery in your parts, and for murder in mine. He has been a thorn in the side of the law across Texas and Arkansas, and I aim to put a stop to it.”
“Hm,” Cogburn replied. He nodded at Mattie. “How’s she figure into it?”
Before Mattie could open her mouth, LaBoeuf spoke. “Cunningham was in Yell County six days ago, and happened on Mattie alone. He... Well, he attempted to kill her, but she fought him off and damn near killed him, truth be told. I got to Dardanelle that very night and when I realised that the local law enforcement would not assist me, I made to continue after the man. Mattie does not have much faith in my abilities, and insisted on coming along.”
Mattie glared at LaBoeuf. He had adapted fine to her presence, and seemed to welcome her company over the last few days. Now here he was putting on a big show for Cogburn. “I know I do not need to tell you to pay no mind to LaBoeuf’s guff, Marshall,” she said. “Cunningham has one hundred dollars in cash money which he stole from me, and I want it back. I will get it back.”
“That will be quite a feat,” Cogburn replied.
“Why is that?” Mattie asked.
“Because Cunningham is gone. I have been here for the better part of a day and he was already gone when I got here. I expect your hundred dollars in cash money is lining the register drawers of every watering hole on this street, and resting on a few bureaus and in some garter belts, besides.”
“Cogburn,” LaBoeuf said, a warning in his tone. He spared Mattie a glance, and then cleared his throat. “Have you any idea of where he may have gone, or has the trail gone cold?”
“He has gone to Arkadelphia,” Cogburn replied. He took a swig of his whiskey.
LaBoeuf stared at him, incredulous. “You know this and yet you have not pursued him? When did you discern this information?”
“Earlier today. Seems Cunningham has loose lips when he’s got a drink in him and a dancing girl on his knee.” Cogburn laughed at this, and polished off his drink.
LaBoeuf was not quite so amused. “You could be near Arkadelphia by now if you had not tarried. And for what? So you could get your fill of drink and gambling and dancing girls yourself, I have no doubt. I thought I had witnessed the depth of your inattention to duty five years ago, but I see now that you can sink lower still.”
“You were quite willing to delay the start of your pursuit in order to make sure I stayed put in Yell County. This is not so very different,” Mattie pointed out. In truth, she agreed with LaBoeuf, but his high-handedness rankled her as it always did.
“Not so very different? No, it is not so very different excepting that I offered to stay so that you would feel safe. I suppose you will say that Cogburn wished to do the same for the town’s stores of whiskey,” LaBoeuf replied. He fixed her with a look which was downright petulant.
“Do not be ridiculous,” Mattie replied. She turned back to Rooster. “Are you going to continue your pursuit of Cunningham, Marshall? If so, when did you plan to depart?”
“In the morning. I have seen the sights of Hot Springs, and I do not care to see much more.”
“We will go with you,” LaBoeuf said. “The two of us can discuss the matter of the bounty later.”
“The two of you? What about my share of the bounty?” Mattie asked.
LaBoeuf and Rooster both turned and looked at her. “Your share?” LaBoeuf echoed.
“Yes, my share. I am assisting in Cunningham’s capture the same as you two are, am I not? This is not as it was before; I am not employing either of you to catch him for me. I want my one hundred dollars in cash money back, and if the three of us apprehend the man, I am entitled to one third of the bounty on his head,” Mattie replied.
“It seems my punishment for tarrying here in Hot Springs has been delivered swiftly in the form of the two of you,” Rooster said. “For now I must not only tolerate your chatter, but I must lose two thirds of my pay, as well.”
“If that is your view on the matter, Mr. LaBoeuf and I are doing just fine on our own and can continue on without you,” Mattie replied, standing up. “We need not waste any more time here. Come along, Mr. LaBoeuf.”
“Do not tell me to ‘come along.’ I am not one of your field hands,” LaBoeuf said. “We will carry on as a company. We can talk terms tomorrow, when we are on the track again.” He did not say this to Mattie, but directly to Rooster, who looked at LaBoeuf for a long moment before he nodded in reply. Mattie narrowed her eyes, sensing that some conversation was happening to which she was not privy, but she said nothing.
“Come,” LaBoeuf said. He reached out and grasped the sleeve of her coat. “We ought to secure lodgings for the night.”
“You are not my field hand and I am not yours, so you have no cause to order me about, either,” Mattie replied. She looked at Cogburn. “Where do you plan on staying tonight, Marshall?”
“I have a room upstairs,” he replied, gesturing vaguely at the upper floor of the hotel.
“I wonder whether they have rooms available,” Mattie began. “Perhaps -”
“We will go find a boarding house and return to make our plans after we have had our supper,” LaBoeuf interrupted, tipping his hat to Rooster. He closed his hand around Mattie’s wrist and pulled her away from the table.
“You are behaving very strangely. Not to mention that you are being violent and rude,” Mattie said as he dragged her out of the hotel. The sun was setting quickly and the street was lit by the gas lamps in the windows of the hotels and taverns. “The hour is late and it may be a hard task finding rooms elsewhere. Should we not at least inquire as to whether there are any vacant rooms here?”
“This is a rough establishment,” LaBoeuf said, leading her to the post where Alma and Sal were hitched. “We will find a boarding house that is more suitable. Your mother would not want you to stay there, surely.”
“Marshall Cogburn is staying there.”
“He is no longer a Federal Marshall,” LaBoeuf replied, and he sounded annoyed.
“All right, but I do not see why we should not stay with him. Would that not be the most reasonable course? The Princess Hotel is not fancy, but that is all right. It would not cost us much and we would get an earlier start in the morn-”
“Why will you never defer to my superior wisdom? Why do you insist on questioning every decision I make?”
“Despite what you may think, I do not conduct myself in this manner with an aim of vexing you,” Mattie replied. “I question this decision because it does not reason to walk across a strange town to find room and board when we might at least have made an inquiry about vacancies there.”
LaBoeuf exhaled heavily, his eyes narrowed. It was clear that he was considerably aggravated. “The Princess Hotel is a gambling room and a brothel, and you would not be safe or easy there. Such establishments are the typical ‘bill of fare’ for your hero Rooster Cogburn, but I reckon that the degree of offense you would suffer in staying there would be too great even for you, who so enjoys being righteously offended.”
“Oh,” Mattie replied merely, frowning. She was annoyed with LaBoeuf’s patronizing lordliness, but she also felt puzzled that he would concern himself with keeping her from ugly and dangerous places. She could not help but marvel that he still thought her so delicate.
“I wonder that you are familiar enough with brothels and gambling rooms that you were able to recognize one so readily,” Mattie said. She pulled her arm free from his hold, and began to unhitch Alma.
“It is beneath my dignity to respond to the implication you are making, so I will merely say that as an officer of the law, I am familiar with all of the places where criminals find their kind,” LaBoeuf replied, in a rather testy tone of voice.
Seeing no gain in provoking him further, Mattie brought Alma around to the hitching post and mounted. LaBoeuf did the same, and began leading them back up the street towards the train depot. LaBoeuf again stopped and asked the boy selling hot peanuts for directions. The boy suggested the Hickory boarding house, which was only one block from the depot.
They found the Hickory to be small and unadorned but neat enough and, in Mattie’s opinion, as respectable as could be expected in this curious town. There were two rooms left, and gladly Mattie and LaBoeuf took them.
By the time they had seen to the horses and washed and changed - Mattie trading her trousers for the dun brown calico dress she had brought - it was suppertime. Mattie came down from her room and found LaBoeuf standing at the bottom of the staircase. He had evidently been waiting for her, for he looked up at her approach and cleared his throat.
“Let us hope that the food here is more generous than at the Monarch boarding house,” he said under his breath as she descended the stairs and fell into step beside him. He seemed to be back in a more conciliatory mood.
They took two seats at the long table in the dining room. LaBoeuf pulled a chair out for her before seating himself next to her. Mattie glanced at him, wondering at his changeableness, but his face revealed nothing as he removed his hat and placed it under his chair.
The supper was good enough. It was boiled ham with potatoes and cabbage, served with thick slices of bread with butter, as well as apple sauce and pickles whose spicy taste was novel to Mattie. Her mother’s pickles were mellower in flavour, and sweeter. Mattie enjoyed these peculiar new pickles very much.
“I have no quarrel with your cornbread, but I own that it is a pleasant change to have a slice of bread,” LaBoeuf said in a low voice. “I hope you will not take offense to my saying so.”
“I take no offense at all, for I agree with you,” Mattie replied. “I like these pickles, as well. We do not make them so spicy at home, but I own that perhaps ours could be improved in this way.”
“In Texas I believe it is customary to add the seeds of a hot pepper to your pickle brine for extra spice. You ought to get yourself some hot pepper seeds and try it.”
“I did not realise the two of you were traveling together, Mr. LaBoeuf, Miss Ross,” came a voice from the head of the table. It was Mrs. Lovett, the widow who owned the Hickory boarding house. She was a small lady with dark brown eyes and a peering expression that reminded Mattie of a sparrow. Her hair was grey, and she wore “widow’s weeds” and a tiny pair of spectacles perched on her nose. “If I had but known this, I would have tried to make some arrangement to room you closer together. As it is, you are in opposite ends of the house!” She giggled. Her laugh was a high, twittering sound.
“The proximity of our rooms is irrelevant, for we are only staying this one night,” Mattie replied. LaBoeuf’s elbow nudged hers. “That said, we thank you for your concern.”
“My dear, it is my pleasure. Although I think perhaps it is your loving parents, wherever they may be, whom I am doing a good turn by keeping some distance between you and Mr. LaBoeuf.” Mrs. Lovett smiled conspiratorially at Mattie before letting loose a fresh peel of giggles.
LaBoeuf made a sort of choking noise in his throat, but Mattie continued to stare at Mrs. Lovett in shock. “Mrs. Lovett, I assure you that whatever assumption you have made about Mr. LaBoeuf and myself is unfounded. Mr. LaBoeuf is accompanying me strictly for business reasons.”
“Not to worry, dears. You are not the first couple to come here on the sly, and I doubt you will be the last. Your little deception is safe with me. Will you be getting married tomorrow?”
“There is no deception,” Mattie replied, becoming annoyed. “Mr. LaBoeuf is a friend and a travelling companion and that is all. We have no plans to marry, on the sly or otherwise!”
“You ought not to be so picky,” said another guest, an older man sitting across from Mattie whose face was craggy and rough with day old stubble. He leaned his elbows on the table and pointed at her with his fork. “With that sour face and your arm besides, you are a spinster in the making, and that is a fact.”
Mattie clenched her fork in her hand and took a steadying breath as she glared at the uncouth boor of a man. Before she could speak, however, LaBoeuf cleared his throat.
“Now, see here,” he said. “That is no way to speak to a lady, spinster or no. I must insist that you apologize to her immediately.”
The man eyed LaBoeuf for a moment, as though weighing the merits of “calling his bluff.” He must have found his own hand wanting, for his eyes slid to Mattie’s. “Beg your pardon, miss,” he said. He returned to eating his supper, eyes fixed on his plate, and said nothing more.
“Ma’am, I must beg your pardon as well for disrupting your fine meal with this foolishness,” LaBoeuf said, looking down the table at Mrs. Lovett. “But I assure you that what Miss Ross says is the Gospel truth - we are not eloping sweethearts or anything of the sort. There is nothing romantic or untoward about our errand.”
Mrs. Lovett leaned forward, seemingly eager to learn more of this errand, however unromantic it may be, but another guest distracted her, and she turned away.
“I think our landlady has been tippling the sherry,” LaBoeuf said softly to Mattie.
Mattie did not reply. She did not care to say anything more at this table, which was apparently populated with gawkers and busybodies. It perturbed her also that her word alone was not enough to silence them, but LaBoeuf’s was.
After supper, they retreated to the front porch, where LaBoeuf stood against one of the whitewashed wooden pillars by the steps and smoked his pipe. Night had fallen, and rather than retiring for the evening, the people of Hot Springs were out in the streets in all their finery. At a hotel across the street, a couple climbed into a smart black carriage with wheels whose bright yellow paint gleamed in the light of the gas lamps. The lady wore a fine green velvet dress, and had some kind of black fur wrap for her bare shoulders. Mattie had never seen anything quite like it before, but did not care to say so to LaBoeuf.
“Well,” he said, once he had finished smoking his pipe. He cast a contemplative look over her. “I am going to hunt Rooster down and make arrangements for tomorrow. You need not come if you do not care to. The Lord alone knows what kind of rough bughouse he will have installed himself in by now.”
Mattie regarded him. She had trusted his word the day they agreed to set out for Cunningham, but he had bamboozled her. Although they had gotten along all right since, she did not trust that he would not, once again, come to some kind of agreement with Cogburn behind her back.
“No,” she said finally. “I believe I will go with you. It is likely that I will never find myself in Hot Springs again, and so I would like to have a look at the place before we depart.”
“All right,” LaBoeuf said. He took a step closer to her and held his elbow out. Peering curiously up at him, she took it. “What say we give those horses a rest and go on foot?”
Taken aback by his odd gallantry, she allowed him to lead her down the steps and out onto the sidewalk. They headed back in the direction of the Princess Hotel, a route which took them through the finer part of Hot Springs, and then the rougher part.
Mattie had never been in so wild and lawless a place. Even the western territories were by comparison rather civilized; here there was scarce evidence of any kind of civilization whatsoever. Or at least there was scarce evidence of the better parts of it. Instead there was only drink, and vice, and debaucheries of every imaginable sort.
Each tavern they passed was packed with men, so many that they spilled out into the street with regularity, bringing their loud shouts of laughter and their violence with them. More than once on their journey they passed men engaged in a scuffle. None of what Mattie saw altered her view that men behaved like beasts when permitted, and were all the more beastly when they had drink in them.
The angle of LaBoeuf’s arm was stiff and did not allow Mattie much freedom to manoeuvre. She supposed he did it in an effort to keep her from harm, but it was bothersome all the same. As they side-stepped two men fighting right in the street, Mattie spoke.
“What do you suppose prompts them to such violence? Is it the drink alone?”
“In my experience it is usually cards, or a woman, or some prior disagreement or conflict of tempers. I will own that the drink does not assist in pacifying anyone, however,” LaBoeuf said.
Mattie thought to say that, if that was so, LaBoeuf ought to know better than to drink at all, but things had been quarrelsome enough between them for one day, and so she said nothing. They soon arrived once more at the Princess Hotel, which was now crowded with drinkers and gamblers. The press of bodies was close enough once they were inside that Mattie extracted her arm from LaBoeuf’s grip and followed behind until he found Rooster seated alone at a small table near the back of the room.
“Here I thought both of you would have recollected your wits and decided to bow out,” Rooster said as Mattie and LaBoeuf sat down at the table.
“What, and leave you here?” Mattie asked. “What purpose is there in going ahead as separate parties when we can go ahead as friends?”
Taking her question to be rhetorical, Rooster did not reply, and took a swig of his drink instead.
“We have secured lodgings at the Hickory boarding house,” LaBoeuf said.
“How did you sign the register, there, LaBoeuf? Is she masquerading as your deputy, or your wife?”
LaBoeuf fixed Rooster with a look. Mattie could tell that he was beginning to find Rooster tiresome already, but he did not give voice to his aggravation. “I thought we might discuss our course of action for tomorrow,” he said.
“There is nothing to discuss,” Rooster replied.
“I do not think that is true. For one, there is the matter of the bounty -” LaBoeuf began, but Rooster interrupted him by dispatching the remainder of his drink and standing up, his chair falling to the floor behind him with a clatter.
“I will depart at first light and head south to Arkadelphia. Until then, I aim to go on a spree. You two may do as you like,” Rooster said. With that, he turned and departed.
“Well,” said LaBoeuf, looking uncomfortable.
Mattie regarded him. “Do not let me keep you from your fun.”
“My fun?”
“Yes, your fun. Are you not going to join one of these card games, or see a music hall show, or visit one of the bathhouses?”
LaBoeuf seemed to consider something as he looked at her. “This town offers many diversions, but none interesting enough to tempt me. They do not resemble my idea of ‘fun.’”
“What then is your idea of fun, if it is not drinking or gambling or whoring?”
LaBoeuf’s face reddened. “One hardly knows how to respond to a question served with such sauce, especially from a supposed lady, but I will allow it,” he said. “When my duties do not demand my immediate attention, I will pass the time by reading. If the weather is fine, I enjoy fishing and hunting. I am not a great admirer of parlour games. They are too silly for my liking. I do like to hear music, although I have no aptitude for it myself.”
“I enjoy music as well,” Mattie replied. “I used to play the piano, although Mama is the true virtuoso in the family. Victoria has the voice of a songbird, and Papa used to play the fiddle. Little Frank has tried to pick the instrument up, but he is easily distracted and will not practice. We used to have ourselves a merry time when we were all together.”
“Am I to understand that you no longer play the piano, then?”
“I am able to pick out a simple melody and play a duet. My days of playing alone came to an end when I fell down that pit full of rattlesnakes,” Mattie replied.
“Ah,” LaBoeuf said. “I did warn you away from that pit.”
Mattie scoffed. “That is true. What you did not warn me about was that the kick of your Sharps-Carbine was worse than that of a mule.”
“Be that as it may, I wager it saved all of our skins that day,” LaBoeuf replied, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as he looked at her.
“I think your sharp aim had as much to do with it, even if you are suddenly too humble to own to it,” Mattie said.
LaBoeuf looked at her in apparent puzzlement, as though he was trying to decide where the insult lay. His eyes moved above her face, and he cocked his head. “Your hair could use some attention,” he said.
Mattie looked away, her hand smoothing self-consciously over her plaits. Over the last two days, she had been unable to tidy it more than tucking errant wisps back in, and she knew she must look a shambles. Suddenly she felt mortified beyond what was appropriate to the situation. She stood, wanting to be alone.
“I think I will retire, Mr. LaBoeuf. We still have a long journey ahead of us when we leave this place, and I will take advantage of a comfortable sleep while I may. Goodnight.” With that, she turned and left him sitting in the tavern. He said her name once as she walked away, but she did not turn back.
Mattie walked back to the boarding house alone. The streets were hardly deserted, however. It seemed the people of Hot Springs did not care to keep the hours of decent folk. One tavern’s signage boasted of a musical revue of “dancing girls,” and as Mattie passed it, she could hear wild piano music coming from within. She paused in the long rectangle of light produced by the gas lamps inside, and caught a glimpse of rich red wallpaper and curtains edged with gold braid. Two women with bare shoulders and painted faces stood on a low stage, singing a bawdy tune.
“You planning on coming inside, or are you just trying to finagle a free show?” asked a man who leaned in the doorway to the tavern.
“I want no part in your ‘show’ at all, no matter if it is free or not. I aim to steer clear of hell in the hereafter. You may do as you please,” Mattie replied. She turned on her heel and hurried down the street and around the corner to their boarding house.
After stopping in to check on Alma and feed her a piece of dried apple, Mattie went up to her little room and latched the door behind her. The boarding house seemed safe enough, but one never knew what to expect in strange places filled with strange people.
Mattie changed into her nightgown, goose bumps breaking out on her skin as the cool night air touched it. She sat on the edge of the bed then and removed the pins from her hair, unwinding her plaits until her hair fell all around her shoulders. She brushed it out until it crackled with static. Then she painstakingly wove it into one long, uneven plait which fell plainly down the middle of her back. She said her prayers, and blew out the lamp, and went to sleep.
It seemed to her she had only been asleep a short while when she was awoken by a sound at her door. The doorknob rattled, and there was a thump, followed by the low, muffled sound of a curse. Mattie sat up and lit the lamp.
“Who is there?” she asked warily.
“LaBoeuf,” came the reply.
Frowning, Mattie pulled her dress on over her head and went to the door. She unlatched it and opened it a crack to find LaBoeuf peering in at her. She opened the door the rest of the way.
“It is you, Mr. LaBoeuf! You had me worrying that a stranger was at my door. What time is it? Is something the matter?”
LaBoeuf stood there in the dim light of the hallway, and he seemed to sway on his feet for a moment before steadying himself with a hand on the doorjamb.
“Cogburn is drunk,” he said. The stench of whiskey wafted off of him and Mattie stiffened.
“From the smell of you, it would seem he is not the only one,” she replied.
“Hm,” LaBoeuf said. He leaned forward, peering over her shoulder. “How is your room? It is to your satisfaction?”
“I am sure it would be fine if I could but sleep in it, as that is its intended purpose. Why are you here?”
“This is a rough place, and my room is quite far from yours, and so I thought...” His words trailed off and he regarded her silently, his eyes drifting down to her throat. He frowned. “Those bruises do not look much better.” He reached out one hand, and his thumb brushed against the exposed skin above her collar.
“Mr. LaBoeuf!” Mattie exclaimed, jumping back and clutching her collar closed. LaBoeuf snatched his hand back as surely as if she had rapped his knuckles. “It is not enough that you are imposing on me at my bedroom door, but now you think you can molest me in this way? I thought better of your manners than this, but I see I was right about drink putting the devil in you.”
LaBoeuf gave her a look which was at once chastened and annoyed, and he seemed to be biting back some retort.
“For the sake of peace I said nothing about your entering my bedroom to leave your letter the other day, but now you give me cause to revisit that offense,” Mattie said. “You are the very soul of arrogance. You are pompous, and audacious, and there will come a day when you will be humbled in your hubris. If not by human means, then by God’s own hand. A woman is not safe leaving her door unlocked with you about.”
LaBoeuf stepped back as though she had hit him in the chest. He seemed battered by her words, and opened his mouth to reply, but Mattie did not afford him the chance, instead shutting the door in his face and latching it.
Mattie stared at the door, her chest tight and hot with anger. He was the most insufferable man on earth, she was certain. After a moment, she heard him stir, and walk slowly down the hallway, the sound of his spurs dulled by his inebriated steps.
She went back to her bed and extinguished the lamp, but it was quite some time before she was able to fall back to sleep.
Chapter Five
Author: lindentree
Rating: T
Character(s): Mattie Ross/LaBoeuf, Rooster Cogburn
Word Count: 6,812
Summary: Five years after her adventure in the Choctaw Nation, Mattie Ross runs afoul of a fugitive. She soon finds herself in familiar company, if not familiar territory.
a sight for sore eyes
It took Mattie and LaBoeuf nearly two days to reach Hot Springs, arriving in the town just before sunset on the second day.
The lands they passed through, heading southwest, were thick with pine woods and sparsely populated. There were only occasional small farms in clearings as they went, and Mattie found that the people of this part of Arkansas were not nearly so friendly and neighbourly as they were in Yell County. Often they simply stood in their dark doorways, staring at Mattie and LaBoeuf as they passed, and no smile or hail of welcome was sent their way. Mattie was disappointed. She had thought all of Arkansas was filled with generally decent folk, but the dwellers of these piney hills and valleys seemed coarse.
With little else to occupy the saddle-bound hours, they talked, and Mattie soon came to know many things about LaBoeuf, including the fact that his full name was Virgil Emery Theo LaBoeuf, he would rather eat dirt out of the road than ever again lay eyes on a piece of hardtack, and that although he thought his sister’s husband to be a “cussed fool” he enjoyed visiting them in Pineville when he had the leisure, for his five nieces and nephews there were very amusing. She also found that when he left off drinking whiskey, things were much pleasanter between them.
For her part, Mattie felt at liberty to speak of her own siblings, and of her plans for the farm. On that second afternoon, as they approached Hot Springs, she found herself talking about her father, and his many schemes, and the little sojourns they used to take to hunt on the Petit Jean, and how he loved to play tricks and make Mama laugh. After some tales she fell silent, thinking on what tales she might have been able to tell had Tom Chaney not come into their lives and cruelly and unjustly ended her father’s. Five years had passed since his death, but that slight had grown only marginally easier to bear. Some sad or pensive look must have crossed her face, for LaBoeuf cleared his throat and spoke.
“Although it is the natural way of things for children to bury their parents, it is a hardship to lose a beloved parent when you are young,” he said. “My own father passed out of this world when I was but twelve years old.”
“What happened to your father?” Although LaBoeuf had spoken of his family, he had mentioned his father only in an oblique way which led Mattie to believe that he had died.
“He took a wound at Sharpsburg which festered and killed him. My mother was devastated, and with my older brothers away fighting, she had but my sister and me to comfort her.” LaBoeuf paused here and looked out at the horizon for a moment before continuing. “I wanted nothing more than to run as fast as I could to Maryland and put a bullet in those men who killed my father. I tried to enlist but they would not take me even as a drummer boy, small as I was. Of course by the time I was fifteen, they were not quite so particular.”
Mattie had heard about LaBoeuf’s truncated and ignoble service in the war during their previous adventure. She thought of how heartsick his mother must have been, with her husband dead and all her sons off fighting. Mattie wondered if, having already been widowed, the woman saw any glory in those last months of war, or if she simply wanted her sons to return home safely. Mama used to say that she had not cared if the Union won the war and burned them all out of their homes, so long as Papa came back to her in whatever condition God saw fit to send him.
“Your mother must have been greatly relieved to have you all at home again, when all was said and done,” Mattie said.
“Yes, she was,” LaBoeuf replied. “It did not last long, for soon we were all off scattered to the four winds, but by then she was occupied enough with seeing Claudine married and settled, and we have always been diligent in our regular letters to her.”
“Do you enjoy correspondence, Mr. LaBoeuf?”
“Certainly, both the sending and the receiving of it,” he replied. He frowned, and cleared his throat. “Although at times we are very busy in Ysleta, we do have our ‘dry spells,’ so to speak, and it is a fine thing to have letters to read, and to respond to. Perhaps when all this business is done, you would like to send me a letter from time to time.”
“All right,” Mattie said. She felt a smile tug at her mouth, and she turned her face away, feeling oddly hesitant for him to know how much the thought of an occasional letter from him pleased her. Sourly, she reflected that already she was turning into a silly old spinster.
They rode on in silence for some time longer, until the pine-forested hills began to give way to a gently sloping valley which contained a small, pretty town in its basin.
“I believe that is Hot Springs,” LaBoeuf said, reining Sal to a halt.
“It is a handsome place,” Mattie observed.
“You may not find it so handsome when you get a taste of what goes on here. There are parts which are fine and civil, and in fact downright grand, but it is a town full of gamblers, taverns, and music halls. I understand that it is a popular stop for eloping ‘lovebirds,’ also.”
Mattie pursed her lips, her cheeks feeling unaccountably warm. “I see now why Cunningham would make certain to pass through.”
“Indeed,” replied LaBoeuf. “We should not delay if we want to find somewhere to stay and get the lay of the place tonight.”
“All right.”
On riding into Hot Springs and finding themselves on what appeared to be the main street, Mattie thought the little town even prettier up close than it had looked from a distance. There was a block of respectable hotels whose signage boasted mineral treatments for relaxation and every kind of ailment. The buildings gleamed white in the sun, their wide fronts supported by enormous columns. It was a handsome effect, although privately Mattie thought it ostentatious.
Near the train depot, LaBoeuf stopped and spoke with a young boy selling hot peanuts. The boy pointed up into the town, and after LaBoeuf favoured him with a coin, they rode in that direction. They soon found themselves traversing a block which housed a different character of hotel altogether.
These hotels were neither respectable nor grand, and most had rough taverns on their main floors. LaBoeuf stopped in front of one, dismounted, and began tying Sal to the hitching post. Mattie followed suit. This hotel called itself the Princess Hotel. Its clapboard front was grey and weathered, its once bright red sign faded to a rusty brown. Thin, discoloured curtains flapped limply out of the open windows in the upper floors, and the sidewalk out front was littered with broken glass.
LaBoeuf paused on the stoop of the ugly little building, and turned to look at her. He regarded her for a moment before speaking. “I reckon it would be a useless exercise to ask that you stay out here and let me go in alone,” he said.
Mattie considered it, and then nodded. “Yes, it would be.”
“All right then.” He led the way, holding the door open for her rather solicitously.
“Thank you,” Mattie said. His courtesy surprised her, although on reflection she was not sure why, for his manners had always been agreeable enough to her, if not his opinions.
Although the Princess presented itself as a hotel, it seemed that its primary purpose was a tavern, for the front doors opened directly into a wide room which was filled with small, round tables, and dominated by a broad wooden bar. There was a doorway to the left which led off to a foyer containing a desk and a staircase. The tavern was dusty and stuffy, and nearly empty of people.
A man was slumped over at the end of the bar, a half-full glass of whiskey clutched in one limp hand. The barkeep was wiping glasses with a dingy rag at the other end. A slight young woman carrying a pile of dirty linens came through the room, eyeing LaBoeuf and Mattie with great suspicion before disappearing into a back room beyond the bar.
They approached the bar, and LaBoeuf leaned forward to speak to the barkeep, who did not look up from his work.
“Sir, I am looking for information about a man by the name of Albert Cunningham. Do you know him?” LaBoeuf reached into his buckskin coat and removed a coin, which he placed on the bar top.
The barkeep paused his wiping, and looked at the coin. He then looked up at LaBoeuf. “Who are you to be looking for information?”
“I am a Texas Ranger,” LaBoeuf said in an important tone, “and Mr. Cunningham is in considerable trouble with the law. Your assistance would be appreciated.”
There was a groan from the man at the end of the bar, and what sounded like it might have been a belch. Mattie wrinkled her nose.
“This man is taller than me, but shorter than him,” she said, gesturing at LaBoeuf. “He has brown hair and blue eyes, and he will have had a bandaged wound on his neck. Do you know him?”
The barkeep seemed about to respond when the man at the end of the bar groaned again and began to speak, his voice a low slurring of words.
“Shitfire!” he swore. “I had a suspicion that chasing after that damn stock thief was a fool notion, and here is the proof. If I had known the two of you were after him, I woulda stayed home. Surely he will turn himself over to the law to save himself the aggravation of being followed by Sergeant LaBoeuf and his deputy, Mattie Ross.”
The speaker was Rooster Cogburn.
“Oh, hell,” LaBoeuf muttered under his breath.
“Marshall!” Mattie exclaimed, spinning about to look at the grizzled man leaning heavily on the bar, his stool wobbling as he tried to stand.
“Hidy, Cogburn. What brings you to Hot Springs?” LaBoeuf asked.
“Dad blame it,” Cogburn cursed, ignoring LaBoeuf and giving his grubby coat a sharp yank. He appeared to be tangled up in his clothing, and his holster. He also appeared to be inebriated.
“Do you require assistance?” Mattie asked, approaching him. He stopped his fussing and sat back on the stool, peering at her with his one eye.
“Ah, it is you. Thought the drink had got to me and I was seeing imps and fairies. Hmph,” he said, turning away to finish off his glass of whiskey with a grimace.
“Yes, it is I, Mattie Ross,” Mattie replied. “You are a ‘sight for sore eyes,’ Marshall. How came you to be in Arkansas? I heard you had gone to Texas.”
“Texas! Do not speak to me about that dry, godforsaken cow patch. The whole blasted state can go to the devil. I did not care a whit for it,” he said.
LaBoeuf cleared his throat. “I believe Cogburn said he was on the trail of a stock thief. What stock thief is that, Cogburn?”
“I am looking for your man Cunningham. He is wanted for murder in San Antonio, and I am after the bounty on him,” Cogburn replied.
“Ah,” LaBoeuf said. He glanced at the barkeep, and then back at Cogburn. “Perhaps we should have our parley in private.”
After procuring another drink, Cogburn followed LaBoeuf to a table in the corner, but not without considerable grumbling. The three of them sat down, LaBoeuf with his back to the near-empty room.
“What do you know about Cunningham?” LaBoeuf asked.
“I know he is a canny son-of-a-bitch,” Cogburn replied. He glanced at Mattie, and then cleared his throat. “Man’s a stock thief. Shot a range detective down in San Antonio and lit out. Been tracking him for near two months. What do you know about him?”
“I know he is wanted for murder and stock thievery in your parts, and for murder in mine. He has been a thorn in the side of the law across Texas and Arkansas, and I aim to put a stop to it.”
“Hm,” Cogburn replied. He nodded at Mattie. “How’s she figure into it?”
Before Mattie could open her mouth, LaBoeuf spoke. “Cunningham was in Yell County six days ago, and happened on Mattie alone. He... Well, he attempted to kill her, but she fought him off and damn near killed him, truth be told. I got to Dardanelle that very night and when I realised that the local law enforcement would not assist me, I made to continue after the man. Mattie does not have much faith in my abilities, and insisted on coming along.”
Mattie glared at LaBoeuf. He had adapted fine to her presence, and seemed to welcome her company over the last few days. Now here he was putting on a big show for Cogburn. “I know I do not need to tell you to pay no mind to LaBoeuf’s guff, Marshall,” she said. “Cunningham has one hundred dollars in cash money which he stole from me, and I want it back. I will get it back.”
“That will be quite a feat,” Cogburn replied.
“Why is that?” Mattie asked.
“Because Cunningham is gone. I have been here for the better part of a day and he was already gone when I got here. I expect your hundred dollars in cash money is lining the register drawers of every watering hole on this street, and resting on a few bureaus and in some garter belts, besides.”
“Cogburn,” LaBoeuf said, a warning in his tone. He spared Mattie a glance, and then cleared his throat. “Have you any idea of where he may have gone, or has the trail gone cold?”
“He has gone to Arkadelphia,” Cogburn replied. He took a swig of his whiskey.
LaBoeuf stared at him, incredulous. “You know this and yet you have not pursued him? When did you discern this information?”
“Earlier today. Seems Cunningham has loose lips when he’s got a drink in him and a dancing girl on his knee.” Cogburn laughed at this, and polished off his drink.
LaBoeuf was not quite so amused. “You could be near Arkadelphia by now if you had not tarried. And for what? So you could get your fill of drink and gambling and dancing girls yourself, I have no doubt. I thought I had witnessed the depth of your inattention to duty five years ago, but I see now that you can sink lower still.”
“You were quite willing to delay the start of your pursuit in order to make sure I stayed put in Yell County. This is not so very different,” Mattie pointed out. In truth, she agreed with LaBoeuf, but his high-handedness rankled her as it always did.
“Not so very different? No, it is not so very different excepting that I offered to stay so that you would feel safe. I suppose you will say that Cogburn wished to do the same for the town’s stores of whiskey,” LaBoeuf replied. He fixed her with a look which was downright petulant.
“Do not be ridiculous,” Mattie replied. She turned back to Rooster. “Are you going to continue your pursuit of Cunningham, Marshall? If so, when did you plan to depart?”
“In the morning. I have seen the sights of Hot Springs, and I do not care to see much more.”
“We will go with you,” LaBoeuf said. “The two of us can discuss the matter of the bounty later.”
“The two of you? What about my share of the bounty?” Mattie asked.
LaBoeuf and Rooster both turned and looked at her. “Your share?” LaBoeuf echoed.
“Yes, my share. I am assisting in Cunningham’s capture the same as you two are, am I not? This is not as it was before; I am not employing either of you to catch him for me. I want my one hundred dollars in cash money back, and if the three of us apprehend the man, I am entitled to one third of the bounty on his head,” Mattie replied.
“It seems my punishment for tarrying here in Hot Springs has been delivered swiftly in the form of the two of you,” Rooster said. “For now I must not only tolerate your chatter, but I must lose two thirds of my pay, as well.”
“If that is your view on the matter, Mr. LaBoeuf and I are doing just fine on our own and can continue on without you,” Mattie replied, standing up. “We need not waste any more time here. Come along, Mr. LaBoeuf.”
“Do not tell me to ‘come along.’ I am not one of your field hands,” LaBoeuf said. “We will carry on as a company. We can talk terms tomorrow, when we are on the track again.” He did not say this to Mattie, but directly to Rooster, who looked at LaBoeuf for a long moment before he nodded in reply. Mattie narrowed her eyes, sensing that some conversation was happening to which she was not privy, but she said nothing.
“Come,” LaBoeuf said. He reached out and grasped the sleeve of her coat. “We ought to secure lodgings for the night.”
“You are not my field hand and I am not yours, so you have no cause to order me about, either,” Mattie replied. She looked at Cogburn. “Where do you plan on staying tonight, Marshall?”
“I have a room upstairs,” he replied, gesturing vaguely at the upper floor of the hotel.
“I wonder whether they have rooms available,” Mattie began. “Perhaps -”
“We will go find a boarding house and return to make our plans after we have had our supper,” LaBoeuf interrupted, tipping his hat to Rooster. He closed his hand around Mattie’s wrist and pulled her away from the table.
“You are behaving very strangely. Not to mention that you are being violent and rude,” Mattie said as he dragged her out of the hotel. The sun was setting quickly and the street was lit by the gas lamps in the windows of the hotels and taverns. “The hour is late and it may be a hard task finding rooms elsewhere. Should we not at least inquire as to whether there are any vacant rooms here?”
“This is a rough establishment,” LaBoeuf said, leading her to the post where Alma and Sal were hitched. “We will find a boarding house that is more suitable. Your mother would not want you to stay there, surely.”
“Marshall Cogburn is staying there.”
“He is no longer a Federal Marshall,” LaBoeuf replied, and he sounded annoyed.
“All right, but I do not see why we should not stay with him. Would that not be the most reasonable course? The Princess Hotel is not fancy, but that is all right. It would not cost us much and we would get an earlier start in the morn-”
“Why will you never defer to my superior wisdom? Why do you insist on questioning every decision I make?”
“Despite what you may think, I do not conduct myself in this manner with an aim of vexing you,” Mattie replied. “I question this decision because it does not reason to walk across a strange town to find room and board when we might at least have made an inquiry about vacancies there.”
LaBoeuf exhaled heavily, his eyes narrowed. It was clear that he was considerably aggravated. “The Princess Hotel is a gambling room and a brothel, and you would not be safe or easy there. Such establishments are the typical ‘bill of fare’ for your hero Rooster Cogburn, but I reckon that the degree of offense you would suffer in staying there would be too great even for you, who so enjoys being righteously offended.”
“Oh,” Mattie replied merely, frowning. She was annoyed with LaBoeuf’s patronizing lordliness, but she also felt puzzled that he would concern himself with keeping her from ugly and dangerous places. She could not help but marvel that he still thought her so delicate.
“I wonder that you are familiar enough with brothels and gambling rooms that you were able to recognize one so readily,” Mattie said. She pulled her arm free from his hold, and began to unhitch Alma.
“It is beneath my dignity to respond to the implication you are making, so I will merely say that as an officer of the law, I am familiar with all of the places where criminals find their kind,” LaBoeuf replied, in a rather testy tone of voice.
Seeing no gain in provoking him further, Mattie brought Alma around to the hitching post and mounted. LaBoeuf did the same, and began leading them back up the street towards the train depot. LaBoeuf again stopped and asked the boy selling hot peanuts for directions. The boy suggested the Hickory boarding house, which was only one block from the depot.
They found the Hickory to be small and unadorned but neat enough and, in Mattie’s opinion, as respectable as could be expected in this curious town. There were two rooms left, and gladly Mattie and LaBoeuf took them.
By the time they had seen to the horses and washed and changed - Mattie trading her trousers for the dun brown calico dress she had brought - it was suppertime. Mattie came down from her room and found LaBoeuf standing at the bottom of the staircase. He had evidently been waiting for her, for he looked up at her approach and cleared his throat.
“Let us hope that the food here is more generous than at the Monarch boarding house,” he said under his breath as she descended the stairs and fell into step beside him. He seemed to be back in a more conciliatory mood.
They took two seats at the long table in the dining room. LaBoeuf pulled a chair out for her before seating himself next to her. Mattie glanced at him, wondering at his changeableness, but his face revealed nothing as he removed his hat and placed it under his chair.
The supper was good enough. It was boiled ham with potatoes and cabbage, served with thick slices of bread with butter, as well as apple sauce and pickles whose spicy taste was novel to Mattie. Her mother’s pickles were mellower in flavour, and sweeter. Mattie enjoyed these peculiar new pickles very much.
“I have no quarrel with your cornbread, but I own that it is a pleasant change to have a slice of bread,” LaBoeuf said in a low voice. “I hope you will not take offense to my saying so.”
“I take no offense at all, for I agree with you,” Mattie replied. “I like these pickles, as well. We do not make them so spicy at home, but I own that perhaps ours could be improved in this way.”
“In Texas I believe it is customary to add the seeds of a hot pepper to your pickle brine for extra spice. You ought to get yourself some hot pepper seeds and try it.”
“I did not realise the two of you were traveling together, Mr. LaBoeuf, Miss Ross,” came a voice from the head of the table. It was Mrs. Lovett, the widow who owned the Hickory boarding house. She was a small lady with dark brown eyes and a peering expression that reminded Mattie of a sparrow. Her hair was grey, and she wore “widow’s weeds” and a tiny pair of spectacles perched on her nose. “If I had but known this, I would have tried to make some arrangement to room you closer together. As it is, you are in opposite ends of the house!” She giggled. Her laugh was a high, twittering sound.
“The proximity of our rooms is irrelevant, for we are only staying this one night,” Mattie replied. LaBoeuf’s elbow nudged hers. “That said, we thank you for your concern.”
“My dear, it is my pleasure. Although I think perhaps it is your loving parents, wherever they may be, whom I am doing a good turn by keeping some distance between you and Mr. LaBoeuf.” Mrs. Lovett smiled conspiratorially at Mattie before letting loose a fresh peel of giggles.
LaBoeuf made a sort of choking noise in his throat, but Mattie continued to stare at Mrs. Lovett in shock. “Mrs. Lovett, I assure you that whatever assumption you have made about Mr. LaBoeuf and myself is unfounded. Mr. LaBoeuf is accompanying me strictly for business reasons.”
“Not to worry, dears. You are not the first couple to come here on the sly, and I doubt you will be the last. Your little deception is safe with me. Will you be getting married tomorrow?”
“There is no deception,” Mattie replied, becoming annoyed. “Mr. LaBoeuf is a friend and a travelling companion and that is all. We have no plans to marry, on the sly or otherwise!”
“You ought not to be so picky,” said another guest, an older man sitting across from Mattie whose face was craggy and rough with day old stubble. He leaned his elbows on the table and pointed at her with his fork. “With that sour face and your arm besides, you are a spinster in the making, and that is a fact.”
Mattie clenched her fork in her hand and took a steadying breath as she glared at the uncouth boor of a man. Before she could speak, however, LaBoeuf cleared his throat.
“Now, see here,” he said. “That is no way to speak to a lady, spinster or no. I must insist that you apologize to her immediately.”
The man eyed LaBoeuf for a moment, as though weighing the merits of “calling his bluff.” He must have found his own hand wanting, for his eyes slid to Mattie’s. “Beg your pardon, miss,” he said. He returned to eating his supper, eyes fixed on his plate, and said nothing more.
“Ma’am, I must beg your pardon as well for disrupting your fine meal with this foolishness,” LaBoeuf said, looking down the table at Mrs. Lovett. “But I assure you that what Miss Ross says is the Gospel truth - we are not eloping sweethearts or anything of the sort. There is nothing romantic or untoward about our errand.”
Mrs. Lovett leaned forward, seemingly eager to learn more of this errand, however unromantic it may be, but another guest distracted her, and she turned away.
“I think our landlady has been tippling the sherry,” LaBoeuf said softly to Mattie.
Mattie did not reply. She did not care to say anything more at this table, which was apparently populated with gawkers and busybodies. It perturbed her also that her word alone was not enough to silence them, but LaBoeuf’s was.
After supper, they retreated to the front porch, where LaBoeuf stood against one of the whitewashed wooden pillars by the steps and smoked his pipe. Night had fallen, and rather than retiring for the evening, the people of Hot Springs were out in the streets in all their finery. At a hotel across the street, a couple climbed into a smart black carriage with wheels whose bright yellow paint gleamed in the light of the gas lamps. The lady wore a fine green velvet dress, and had some kind of black fur wrap for her bare shoulders. Mattie had never seen anything quite like it before, but did not care to say so to LaBoeuf.
“Well,” he said, once he had finished smoking his pipe. He cast a contemplative look over her. “I am going to hunt Rooster down and make arrangements for tomorrow. You need not come if you do not care to. The Lord alone knows what kind of rough bughouse he will have installed himself in by now.”
Mattie regarded him. She had trusted his word the day they agreed to set out for Cunningham, but he had bamboozled her. Although they had gotten along all right since, she did not trust that he would not, once again, come to some kind of agreement with Cogburn behind her back.
“No,” she said finally. “I believe I will go with you. It is likely that I will never find myself in Hot Springs again, and so I would like to have a look at the place before we depart.”
“All right,” LaBoeuf said. He took a step closer to her and held his elbow out. Peering curiously up at him, she took it. “What say we give those horses a rest and go on foot?”
Taken aback by his odd gallantry, she allowed him to lead her down the steps and out onto the sidewalk. They headed back in the direction of the Princess Hotel, a route which took them through the finer part of Hot Springs, and then the rougher part.
Mattie had never been in so wild and lawless a place. Even the western territories were by comparison rather civilized; here there was scarce evidence of any kind of civilization whatsoever. Or at least there was scarce evidence of the better parts of it. Instead there was only drink, and vice, and debaucheries of every imaginable sort.
Each tavern they passed was packed with men, so many that they spilled out into the street with regularity, bringing their loud shouts of laughter and their violence with them. More than once on their journey they passed men engaged in a scuffle. None of what Mattie saw altered her view that men behaved like beasts when permitted, and were all the more beastly when they had drink in them.
The angle of LaBoeuf’s arm was stiff and did not allow Mattie much freedom to manoeuvre. She supposed he did it in an effort to keep her from harm, but it was bothersome all the same. As they side-stepped two men fighting right in the street, Mattie spoke.
“What do you suppose prompts them to such violence? Is it the drink alone?”
“In my experience it is usually cards, or a woman, or some prior disagreement or conflict of tempers. I will own that the drink does not assist in pacifying anyone, however,” LaBoeuf said.
Mattie thought to say that, if that was so, LaBoeuf ought to know better than to drink at all, but things had been quarrelsome enough between them for one day, and so she said nothing. They soon arrived once more at the Princess Hotel, which was now crowded with drinkers and gamblers. The press of bodies was close enough once they were inside that Mattie extracted her arm from LaBoeuf’s grip and followed behind until he found Rooster seated alone at a small table near the back of the room.
“Here I thought both of you would have recollected your wits and decided to bow out,” Rooster said as Mattie and LaBoeuf sat down at the table.
“What, and leave you here?” Mattie asked. “What purpose is there in going ahead as separate parties when we can go ahead as friends?”
Taking her question to be rhetorical, Rooster did not reply, and took a swig of his drink instead.
“We have secured lodgings at the Hickory boarding house,” LaBoeuf said.
“How did you sign the register, there, LaBoeuf? Is she masquerading as your deputy, or your wife?”
LaBoeuf fixed Rooster with a look. Mattie could tell that he was beginning to find Rooster tiresome already, but he did not give voice to his aggravation. “I thought we might discuss our course of action for tomorrow,” he said.
“There is nothing to discuss,” Rooster replied.
“I do not think that is true. For one, there is the matter of the bounty -” LaBoeuf began, but Rooster interrupted him by dispatching the remainder of his drink and standing up, his chair falling to the floor behind him with a clatter.
“I will depart at first light and head south to Arkadelphia. Until then, I aim to go on a spree. You two may do as you like,” Rooster said. With that, he turned and departed.
“Well,” said LaBoeuf, looking uncomfortable.
Mattie regarded him. “Do not let me keep you from your fun.”
“My fun?”
“Yes, your fun. Are you not going to join one of these card games, or see a music hall show, or visit one of the bathhouses?”
LaBoeuf seemed to consider something as he looked at her. “This town offers many diversions, but none interesting enough to tempt me. They do not resemble my idea of ‘fun.’”
“What then is your idea of fun, if it is not drinking or gambling or whoring?”
LaBoeuf’s face reddened. “One hardly knows how to respond to a question served with such sauce, especially from a supposed lady, but I will allow it,” he said. “When my duties do not demand my immediate attention, I will pass the time by reading. If the weather is fine, I enjoy fishing and hunting. I am not a great admirer of parlour games. They are too silly for my liking. I do like to hear music, although I have no aptitude for it myself.”
“I enjoy music as well,” Mattie replied. “I used to play the piano, although Mama is the true virtuoso in the family. Victoria has the voice of a songbird, and Papa used to play the fiddle. Little Frank has tried to pick the instrument up, but he is easily distracted and will not practice. We used to have ourselves a merry time when we were all together.”
“Am I to understand that you no longer play the piano, then?”
“I am able to pick out a simple melody and play a duet. My days of playing alone came to an end when I fell down that pit full of rattlesnakes,” Mattie replied.
“Ah,” LaBoeuf said. “I did warn you away from that pit.”
Mattie scoffed. “That is true. What you did not warn me about was that the kick of your Sharps-Carbine was worse than that of a mule.”
“Be that as it may, I wager it saved all of our skins that day,” LaBoeuf replied, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as he looked at her.
“I think your sharp aim had as much to do with it, even if you are suddenly too humble to own to it,” Mattie said.
LaBoeuf looked at her in apparent puzzlement, as though he was trying to decide where the insult lay. His eyes moved above her face, and he cocked his head. “Your hair could use some attention,” he said.
Mattie looked away, her hand smoothing self-consciously over her plaits. Over the last two days, she had been unable to tidy it more than tucking errant wisps back in, and she knew she must look a shambles. Suddenly she felt mortified beyond what was appropriate to the situation. She stood, wanting to be alone.
“I think I will retire, Mr. LaBoeuf. We still have a long journey ahead of us when we leave this place, and I will take advantage of a comfortable sleep while I may. Goodnight.” With that, she turned and left him sitting in the tavern. He said her name once as she walked away, but she did not turn back.
Mattie walked back to the boarding house alone. The streets were hardly deserted, however. It seemed the people of Hot Springs did not care to keep the hours of decent folk. One tavern’s signage boasted of a musical revue of “dancing girls,” and as Mattie passed it, she could hear wild piano music coming from within. She paused in the long rectangle of light produced by the gas lamps inside, and caught a glimpse of rich red wallpaper and curtains edged with gold braid. Two women with bare shoulders and painted faces stood on a low stage, singing a bawdy tune.
“You planning on coming inside, or are you just trying to finagle a free show?” asked a man who leaned in the doorway to the tavern.
“I want no part in your ‘show’ at all, no matter if it is free or not. I aim to steer clear of hell in the hereafter. You may do as you please,” Mattie replied. She turned on her heel and hurried down the street and around the corner to their boarding house.
After stopping in to check on Alma and feed her a piece of dried apple, Mattie went up to her little room and latched the door behind her. The boarding house seemed safe enough, but one never knew what to expect in strange places filled with strange people.
Mattie changed into her nightgown, goose bumps breaking out on her skin as the cool night air touched it. She sat on the edge of the bed then and removed the pins from her hair, unwinding her plaits until her hair fell all around her shoulders. She brushed it out until it crackled with static. Then she painstakingly wove it into one long, uneven plait which fell plainly down the middle of her back. She said her prayers, and blew out the lamp, and went to sleep.
It seemed to her she had only been asleep a short while when she was awoken by a sound at her door. The doorknob rattled, and there was a thump, followed by the low, muffled sound of a curse. Mattie sat up and lit the lamp.
“Who is there?” she asked warily.
“LaBoeuf,” came the reply.
Frowning, Mattie pulled her dress on over her head and went to the door. She unlatched it and opened it a crack to find LaBoeuf peering in at her. She opened the door the rest of the way.
“It is you, Mr. LaBoeuf! You had me worrying that a stranger was at my door. What time is it? Is something the matter?”
LaBoeuf stood there in the dim light of the hallway, and he seemed to sway on his feet for a moment before steadying himself with a hand on the doorjamb.
“Cogburn is drunk,” he said. The stench of whiskey wafted off of him and Mattie stiffened.
“From the smell of you, it would seem he is not the only one,” she replied.
“Hm,” LaBoeuf said. He leaned forward, peering over her shoulder. “How is your room? It is to your satisfaction?”
“I am sure it would be fine if I could but sleep in it, as that is its intended purpose. Why are you here?”
“This is a rough place, and my room is quite far from yours, and so I thought...” His words trailed off and he regarded her silently, his eyes drifting down to her throat. He frowned. “Those bruises do not look much better.” He reached out one hand, and his thumb brushed against the exposed skin above her collar.
“Mr. LaBoeuf!” Mattie exclaimed, jumping back and clutching her collar closed. LaBoeuf snatched his hand back as surely as if she had rapped his knuckles. “It is not enough that you are imposing on me at my bedroom door, but now you think you can molest me in this way? I thought better of your manners than this, but I see I was right about drink putting the devil in you.”
LaBoeuf gave her a look which was at once chastened and annoyed, and he seemed to be biting back some retort.
“For the sake of peace I said nothing about your entering my bedroom to leave your letter the other day, but now you give me cause to revisit that offense,” Mattie said. “You are the very soul of arrogance. You are pompous, and audacious, and there will come a day when you will be humbled in your hubris. If not by human means, then by God’s own hand. A woman is not safe leaving her door unlocked with you about.”
LaBoeuf stepped back as though she had hit him in the chest. He seemed battered by her words, and opened his mouth to reply, but Mattie did not afford him the chance, instead shutting the door in his face and latching it.
Mattie stared at the door, her chest tight and hot with anger. He was the most insufferable man on earth, she was certain. After a moment, she heard him stir, and walk slowly down the hallway, the sound of his spurs dulled by his inebriated steps.
She went back to her bed and extinguished the lamp, but it was quite some time before she was able to fall back to sleep.
Chapter Five