Forty Lashes Less One by Elmore Leonard
I'm not saying I could have prevented their fighting, but you never know, do you? Maybe if I had spoken to them, got them to shake hands you understand what I mean, Bob?
Fisher pulled his gaze away from the tailor shop to the little man by the window. Well, I don't know about that.
It could have made a difference.
I never seen talking work much on anybody.
But twenty days in there, Mr. Manly said, and it could be my fault, because I didn't talk to them. He paused. Don't you think, Bob, in this case, you ought to give them no more than ten days? You said yourself ten days was a long time. Then soon as they come out I'll talk to them.
That Indian was supposed to be in thirty days, Fisher said, and you changed it to ten. Now I've already told them twenty and you want to cut it down again. I tell a convict one thing and you say something else and we begin to have problems.
I'm only asking, Mr. Manly said, because if I could have done something, if I'm the one to blame, then it wouldn't be fair to those two boys.
Mister, they're convicts. They do what we tell them. Anything.
Mr. Manly agreed, nodding. That's true, we give the orders and they have to obey. But we still have to be fair, no matter who we're dealing with.
Bob Fisher wondered what the hell he was doing here arguing with this little four-eyed squirt. He said, They don't know anything about this. They don't know you meant to talk to them.
But I know it, Mr. Manly said, and the more I think about it the more I know I got to talk to them. He paused. Soon.
Fisher saw it coming, happening right before his eyes, the little squirt's mind working behind his gold-frame glasses.
Yes, maybe you ought to bring them in tomorrow. Just a minute ago you said ten days Do you have any children, Bob?
The question stopped Fisher. He shook his head slowly, watching Mr. Manly.
Well, I'm sure you know anyway you got to have patience with children. Sure, you got to punish them sometimes, but first you got to teach them right from wrong and be certain they understand it.
I guess my wife's got something wrong with her. She never had any kids.
That's God's will, Bob. What I'm getting at, these two boys here, Harold and Raymond, they're just like children. Mr. Manly held up his hand. I know what you're going to say, these boys wasn't caught stealing candy, they took a life. And I say that's true. But still they're like little children. They're grown in body but not in mind. They got the appetites and temptations of grown men. They fight and carry on and, Lord knows, they have committed murder, for which they are now paying the price. But we don't want no more murders around here, do we, Bob? No, sir. Nor do we want to punish anybody for something that isn't their fault. We got two murderers wanting to kill each other. Two mean-looking boys we chain up in a dungeon. But Bob, tell me something. Has anybody ever spoke kindly to them? I mean has anybody ever helped them overcome the hold the devil's got on them? Has anybody ever showed them the path of righteousness, or explained to them Almighty God's justice and the meaning of everlasting salvation?
Jesus Christ, Bob Fisher said not to Mr. Manly, to himself. He had to get out of here; he didn't need any sermons today. He nodded thoughtfully and said to Mr. Manly, I'll bring them in here whenever you want.
When Junior and Soonzy came back from clubbing the Indian and the colored boy, Frank Shelby told them to get finished with the unloading. He told them to leave a bottle of whiskey in the wagon for the freight driver and take the rest of it to his cell. Soonzy said Jesus, that nigger had a hard head, and showed everybody around how the hunk of wood was splintered. Junior said my, but they were dumb to start a fight out in the yard. This old boy over there called them sweethearts and that had started them swinging. If they wanted to fight, they should have it out in a cell some night. A convict standing there said, boy, he'd like to see that. It would be a good fight.
Shelby was looking at Norma Davis outside the tailor shop. He knew she was waiting for him, but what the convict said caught in his mind and he looked at the man.
Which one would you bet on?
I think I'd have to pick the nigger, the convict said. The way he's built.
Shelby looked around at Soonzy. Who'd you pick? I don't think neither of them look like much.
I said who'd you pick.
I don't know. I guess the nigger.
How about in the mess hall, Shelby said. The In-din showed he's got nerve. Pretty quick, too, the way he laid that plate across the boy's eyes.
He's quick, Junior said.
Quick and stronger than he looks, Shelby said. You saw him swimming against the river current.
Well, he's big for an Indin, Junior said. Big and quick and, as Frank says, he's got some nerve. Another thing, you don't see no marks on him from their fighting in the snake den. He might be more'n the nigger can handle.
I'd say you could bet either way on that fight, Shelby said. He told Junior to hand him the bundle for the tailor shop a bolt of prison cloth wrapped in brown paper and walked off with it.
Most of them, Shelby was thinking, would bet on the nigger. Get enough cons to bet on the Indin and it could be a pretty good pot. If he organized the betting, handled the whole thing, he could take about ten percent for the house. Offer some long-shot side bets and cover those himself. First, though, he'd have to present the idea to Bob Fisher. A prize fight. Fisher would ask what for and he'd say two reasons. Entertain the cons and settle the problem of the two boys fighting. Decide a winner and the matter would be ended. Once he worked out the side bets and the odds.
Bringing me a present? Norma asked him.
Shelby reached the shade of the building and looked up at her in the doorway. I got a present for you, but it ain't in this bundle.
I bet I know what it is.
I bet you ought to. Who's inside?
Just Tacha and the old man.
Well, you better invite me in, Shelby said, before I start stripping you right here.
Little anxious today?
I believe it's been over a week.
Almost two weeks, Norma said. Is there somebody else?
Two times I was on my way here, Shelby said, Fisher stopped me and sent me on a work detail.
I thought you got along with him.
It's the first time he's pulled anything like that. You think he knows about us?
I imagine he does.
He watches me and Tacha take a bath.
He comes in?
No, there's a loose brick in the wall he pulls out. One time, after I was through, I peeked out the door and saw him sneaking off.
Shelby grinned. Dirty old bastard.
Maybe he doesn't feel so old.
I bet he'd like to have some at that. Shelby nodded slowly. I just bet he would.
Norma was watching him. Now what are you thinking?
But he wouldn't want anybody to know about it. That's why he don't come in when you're taking a bath. Tacha's there.
Norma smiled. I can see your evil mind working. If Tacha wasn't there Yes, sir, then he'd come in.
Ask if I wanted him to soap my back.
Front and back. I can see him, Shelby said. One thing leads to another. After the first time, he don't soap you. No, sir, he gets right to it.
Then one night you come in Norma giggled and catch the head guard molesting a woman convict.
Shelby shook his head, grinning.
He's trying to pull his pants on in a hurry and you say, Good evening, Mr. Fisher. How are tricks?
God damn, Shelby said. that's good.
He's trying to button his pants and stick his shirt in and thinking as hard as he can for something to say. Norma kept giggling and trying not to. He says, uh What does he say?
He says, 'I just come in for some coffee. Can I get you a cup, Mr. Shelby?' And you say, 'No, thank you. I was just on my way to see the superintendent.' He says, 'About what, Mr. Shelby?' And you say, 'About how some of the guards have been messing with the wo
It's an idea, Shelby said, but I don't know of anything he can do for me except open the gate and he ain't going to do that, no matter what I get on him. No, I was wondering if you and him got to be good friends what he might tell you if you were to ask him.
Norma raised her arm and used the sleeve to wipe the wetness from her eyes. What might he tell me?
Like what day we're supposed to move out of here. If we're going by train. If we're all going at once, or in groups. Shelby spoke quietly and watched her begin to nod her head as she thought about it. Once we know when we're moving we can begin to make plans. I can talk to my brother Virgil, when he comes to visit, get him working on the outside. But we got to know when.
Norma was picturing herself in the cook shack with Fisher. It would have to be the way I asked him. So he wouldn't suspect anything.
Honey, you'd know better than I could tell you. I suppose once I got him comfortable with me. You won't have any trouble at all.
It'll probably be a few times before he relaxes. Get him to think you like him. A man will believe anything when he's got his pants off.
We might be having a cup of coffee after and I'll make a little face and look around the kitchen and say, 'Gee, honey, I wish there was some place else we could go.'
Ask him about the new prison.
That's what I'm leading to, Norma said. I'll tell him I hope we'll have a better place than this. Then I'll say, like I just thought of it, 'By the way, honey, when are we going to this new prison?'
Ask him if he's ever done it on a train?
I'll think of a way. I bet he's a horny old bastard. So much the better. He's probably never got it off a good-looking woman before in his life.
Thank you.
You're welcome.
The only thing is what to do about Tacha.
I'll have to think on that, Shelby said.
Maybe he'd like both of us.
Honey, he don't even have dreams like that anymore.
Tacha Reyes looked up from her sewing machine as they came into the shop and Shelby dropped the bundle on the work table. The old man, who had been a tailor here for twenty-six years since murdering his wife, continued working. He sat hunched over with his legs crossed, sewing a button to a striped convict coat.
Norma didn't say anything to them. She followed Shelby into the back room where the supplies and bolts of material were kept. The first few times they went back there together she said they were going to inventory the material or look over the thread supply or count buttons. Now she didn't bother. They went into the room and closed the door.
Tacha sat quietly, not moving. She told herself she shouldn't listen, but she always did. Sometimes she heard Norma, the faint sound of her laughing in there; she never heard Frank Shelby. He was always quiet.
Like the man who owned the cafT in St. David. He would come up behind her when she was working in the kitchen and almost before she heard him he would be touching her, putting his hands on her hips and bringing them up under her arms, pretending to be counting her ribs and asking how come she was so skinny, how come, huh, didn't she like the cooking here? And when she twisted away from him what was the matter, didn't she like working here?
How can he come in, Tacha said, do whatever he wants?
The tailor glanced over at the stock-room door. He didn't look at Tacha. Norma isn't complaining.
She's as bad as he is.
I wouldn't know about that.
She does whatever he wants. But he's a convict, like any of them.
I'll agree he's a convict, the tailor said.
You're afraid to even talk about him.
I'll agree to that too, the tailor said.
Some people can do whatever they want. Other people have to let them. Tacha was silent again. What good was talking about it?
The owner of the cafT in St. David thought he could do whatever he wanted because he paid her seven dollars a week and said she didn't have to stay if she didn't want to. He would kiss her and she would have to close her eyes hard and hold her breath and feel his hand coming up over her breast. Her sister had said so what, he touches you a little. Where else are you going to make seven dollars a week? But I don't want him to, Tacha had said. I don't love him. And her sister had told her she was crazy. You don't have to love a man even to marry him. This man was providing for her and she should look at it that way. He gave her something, she should give him something.
She gave him the blade of a butcher knife late one afternoon when no one was in the cafT and the cook had gone to the outhouse. She jabbed the knife into him because he was hurting her, forcing her back over the kitchen table, smothering her with his weight and not giving her a chance to speak, to tell him she wanted to quit. Her fingers touched the knife on the table and, in that little moment of panic, as his hand went under her skirt and up between her legs, she pushed the knife into his stomach. She would remember his funny, surprised expression and remember him pushing away from her again with his weight, and looking down at the knife handle, touching it gently with both hands then, standing still, as if afraid to move, and looking down at the knife. She remembered saying, I didn't mean to and thinking, Take it out, you can do whatever you want to me, I didn't mean to do this.
Some people lead, the tailor said, some follow. Tacha looked over at him, hunched over his sewing.
Why can Frank Shelby do whatever he wants? Not everything, he can't.
Why can he go in there with her?
Ask him when he's through.
Do you know something? Tacha said. You never answer a question.
I've been here the tailor began, and stopped as the outside door opened.
Bob Fisher stepped inside. He closed the door quietly behind him, his gaze going to the stock room, then to Tacha and past her to the tailor.
Where's Norma at?
Tacha waited. When she knew the tailor wasn't going to answer she said, Don't you know where she is?
Fisher's dull expression returned to Tacha. I ask a question, I don't need a question back.
She's in there, Tacha said.
I thought I saw a convict come in here.
He's in there with her.
Doing what?
Doing it, Tacha said. What do you think?
Bob Fisher took time to give her a look before he walked over to the stock room. Then he didn't hesitate: he pushed the door and let it bang wide open and stood looking at them on the flat bolts of striped prison material they had spread on the floor, at the two of them lying close and pulling apart, at their upturned faces that were momentarily startled.
You through? Fisher said.
Shelby started to grin and shake his head. I guess you caught us, boss.
Tacha could see Norma's skirt pulled up and her bare thighs. She saw Shelby, behind Fisher, getting to his feet. He was buttoning the top of his pants now. Norma was sitting up, slowly buttoning her blouse, then touching her hair, brushing it away from her face.
Tacha and the tailor began working again as Fisher looked around at them. He motioned Norma to get up. You go on to your cell till I'm ready for you.
Shelby waited, while Norma gave Fisher a look and a shrug and walked out. He said then, Were me and her doing something wrong? Against regulations?
You come with me, Fisher said.
Once outside, they moved off across the yard, toward the far end of the mess hall. Fisher held his set expression as his gaze moved about the yard. Shelby couldn't figure him out.
Where we going?
I want to tell the new superintendent what you were doing.
I didn't know of any law against it.
Fisher kept walking.
What's going on? Shelby said. Christ, the man was actually taking him in. Before they got to the latrine adobe Shelby said, Well, I wanted to talk to him anyway. He paused. About this guard that watches the girls take their bath. Pulls loose a brick and peeks in at them.
Fisher took six strides bef
You bet, Shelby said.
Then tell the sup'rintendent.
Son of a bitch. He was bluffing. Shelby glanced at him, but couldn't tell a thing from the man's expression.
Just past the latrine Shelby said, I imagine this guard has got a real eyeful, oh man, but looking ain't near anything like doing, I'll tell you, 'cause I've done both. That Norma has got a natural-born instinct for pleasing a man. You know what she does?
Fisher didn't answer.
Shelby waited, but not too long. She knows secret things I bet there ain't ten women in the world can do. I been to Memphis, I been to Tulsa, to Nogales, I know what I'm talking about. You feel her mouth brushing your face and whispering dirty things in your ear you know something? Once a man's had some of that woman I mean somebody outside he'd allow himself to be locked up in this place the rest of his life if he thought he could get some every other night. Get her right after she comes out of the bath.
Shelby paused to let Fisher think about it. As they were nearing the outside stairs he said, Man, I tell you, anybody seen her bare-ass naked knows that's got to be a woman built for pleasure.
Upstairs, Fisher said.
Shelby went up two steps and paused, looking around over his shoulder. The thing is, though. She don't give it out to nobody but me. Less I say it's all right. Shelby looked right at his eyes. You understand me, boss?
Mr. Manly heard them coming down the hall. He swiveled around from the window and moved the two file folders to one side of the desk, covering the Bible. He picked up a pencil. On his note pad were written the names Harold Jackson and Raymond San Carlos, both underlined, and the notations: Ten days will be Feb. 23, 1909. Talk to both at same time. Ref. to St. Paul to the Corinthians 11:19u33 and 12:1u9.
When the knock came he said, Come in at once, but didn't look up until he knew they were in the room, close to the desk, and he had written on the note paper: See Ephesians 4:1u6.
Bob Fisher came right out with it. He wants to tell you something.
In that moment Shelby had no idea what he would say; because Fisher wasn't bluffing and wasn't afraid of him; because Fisher stood up and was a tough son of a bitch and wasn't going to lie and lose face in front of any con. Maybe Fisher would deny the accusation, say prove it. Shelby didn't know what Fisher would do. He needed time to think. The next moment Mr. Manly was smiling up at him.