Paradise Sky

“They ain’t all that friendly,” he said.

“I also got word from Bump that you hit him in the head a lot harder than you just got hit.”

“Goddamn it, I knew I should have gone on and shot him. I liked him, though. That’s what my problem has been all my life, just like my mama told me. She said my good heart would lead to my downfall.”

“That’s one way of looking at it,” I said. “Here’s what we’re going to do. We’re going to tie you up and gag you.”

“Oh, hell, not a gag. I been gagged before. That’s just miserable.”

“Shut up,” Choctaw said.

“We will gag you and tie you up, or we can just go ahead and shoot you. If we shoot you, that will let your companions know we’re here, but on the downside for you, you will be dead.”

“I don’t like that side of it at all. Go ahead and gag me.”

We tied his hands behind his back with some leather strips, bound his feet, sat him up against a tree, tied a rope to the bind that held his hands, and wrapped that around the tree.

Choctaw said, “You are in luck, Doolittle, as I got some dirty socks that will fit right into your mouth. But let me tell you a thing or two. I seen a man gagged once that fought the gag so much he swallowed it, and that didn’t do him any good, I can assure you. You got to be still and wait for us to return or you might choke.”

“And what if you get killed?”

“That wouldn’t be good for you at all. We get killed, and your buddies get killed, too—or don’t know you’re here or don’t care—you’re going to be in quite a pickle, now, ain’t you?”

“I reckon I will be. But it don’t seem right I got to root for you fellows.”

“It is a confusion,” I said. “Why was you out here anyway?”

“Looking for a place to shit. At least I don’t have that problem no more. It’s all stove up inside of me now.”

“You can’t shit in the cave?” Choctaw said.

“I suggested it, but my pards was against it.”

“I can see that,” I said.

“So you came out in the rain to shit in the woods?” Choctaw said.

“I’m modest. They’re going to miss me, you know?”

“Maybe not soon enough,” I said.

Choctaw got one of his socks and some rags out of his saddlebag. You could smell that sock even with the rain and the wind blowing. It wasn’t pleasant.

“You really going to use that sock?” Doolittle said.

“I am.”

“Ain’t you got no clean ones?”

“I do.”

“So you’re just being mean?”

“I am. I used it to wipe a little cow doo off my boots when I changed socks yesterday, so there might be something in them you can chew on.”

Choctaw pushed the socks up close to Doolittle’s face.

“Oh, that’s smells terrible. I’ve changed my mind. Go on and shoot me.”

“Don’t tempt us,” I said.

Choctaw shoved the sock in Doolittle’s mouth and tied it in there with a couple bands of what was now wet rags. When he was done, he stood up from where he had been squatting and patted Doolittle on the head.

“Be good, little boy,” he said.

There wasn’t no choice but to go to them, as pretty soon they might wonder what happened to Doolittle. Way we decided to come at it was I’d go to the right, far around, and try and come along the line of rocks that led to the cave and surprise them at the mouth of it. Choctaw would cross the clearing off to the left side of the fire. We figured if they saw him at all before he was right on them, they’d think it was Doolittle coming back, though the problem there was Choctaw was considerable taller. I pointed this out to him, and he said, “I’ll hunker down.”

“Hunker good,” I said. “Give me about a five-minute lead before you start hunkering, though.”

I took my deputy marshal badge out of my pocket and lifted up my slicker and pi

It looked like a giant rabbit wearing a hat. Doolittle had somehow freed himself from the tree. Rope was rotten or the knot wasn’t good, I didn’t know, but there he come, his hands still tied behind his back and his feet bound. He was hopping up and down, right past Choctaw, who decided to go to one knee there in the clearing. I could make them both out from where I was, and since there was two of them, if the men inside the cave looked up, they’d see them both and know they couldn’t both be Doolittle.

Now, I got to give it to Doolittle; he could hop fast. He went right on past Choctaw and just kept on his mission. We could have shot him, but that wouldn’t have helped us none, as our shots would have a

I hadn’t no more than pressed against the rock wall and started moving when shots rang out, and Doolittle the Rabbit caught one and stumbled but kept to his bound feet and went back to hopping. The gag had shifted, and he had managed to spit the sock out, cause he started calling out, “It’s me—don’t shoot.”

Instead of stopping fire, this seemed to draw it. Bullets ripped from the cave, and down went Doolittle, right on his face. Then them inside the cave took note of Choctaw, who had tried to widen his position, and I heard a shot and seen him toss his head back and yelp and fall to his knees, and then to his face.

I didn’t know the disposition of either him or the rabbit and had no choice but to continue on my path to the mouth of the cave. When I wasn’t no more than twenty feet from it, I seen a man step out of it, just past the fire that was raging inside the cave. The fire was hissing as the wind was blowing rain into the cave and into the fire; it was like someone was constantly spitting into it.

I knew the fellow standing there was Pinocchio Joe, because I hadn’t never seen a nose like that on anything outside of a possum. It stuck out and then hung down like a door latch at the tip.

“I got them both,” Pinocchio Joe said. “But I’m starting to think one of them was that little shit Doolittle.”

“Which one?” said a voice from the cave, which I recognized as belonging to Ruggert.

“The one hopping, I figure.”

“What the hell was he hopping for?”

“He might have thought it was fu

“He ain’t laughing now, is he? Didn’t you know it was him?”

“I thought the other one was him, but then I seen he was taller. I’d already shot Doolittle by then, so how tall one was to the other don’t really matter.”

“Who the hell is the other one?”

“I don’t know no more than you do.”

“Well, least make sure Doolittle’s dead,” Ruggert said. “You shot him, you finish him. We’ll call it an accident if we got to call it anything. It makes dividing the money easier. And see who that other fucker was. See if you know him.”

“Why don’t you go out and take a look?”

“Cause I’m the goddamn boss.”

“Boss of what? Ain’t nobody left but me and you.”

“Don’t get no ideas, Joe. I ain’t going to hop up and down till you shoot me. I might prove a bit more trouble.”

Pinocchio Joe stood there as if thinking to respond. I was leaning tight against the shadowed wall, and if Pinocchio Joe didn’t turn and look right at me, he wasn’t going to see me. I held my breath.

Pinocchio Joe tracked across the clearing to where Choctaw and Doolittle lay. I took a quick study of my situation, and as I was putting together what I should do, for some reason or another, Pinocchio Joe turned and looked back just as I was moving out of the shadows of the rock wall with my rifle.