Silver Rock Page 18

“Oh, you’re back,” Sarah said, and smiled, opening the door wider. “Everything go all right?”

  Tully stepped inside, a sudden pessimism within him. For a fleeting moment he resented Sarah’s presence, and then he thought, She’s got to hear it too sometime.

  “Just peachy,” Tully said, and freed a grin.

  Old Kevin appeared in the kitchen doorway, and Tully said, “Hi, oldtimer.” He heard Sarah’s footsteps approaching, and turned to her.

  “Tully, what happened to your face?”

  “Ben was on the train. We got a few things settled—like county help on the road, like an extension on my note at the bank, like renting more equipment, like using his mill.”

  “You fought with him.” It was a statement more than a question, and Tully carefully watched the concern in Sarah’s eyes.

  “I did,” he said. Slowly then he drew his gloved hands from his pockets and unzippered his jacket. He knew that his broken hands and bloodstained shirt would be an unpleasant sight, and he also knew that if he exposed them he would be diverted from what he had come to do.

  Kevin said, “Come out in the kitchen, boy. Take off your things.”

  “I’m still cold,” Tully said, hoping this excuse to keep on his jacket would seem natural. He waited for Sarah to pass ahead of him, and then he followed her into the kitchen. She and Kevin had been drinking coffee, and now Sarah, as Tully sank into one of the chairs, took down another cup and poured him some coffee from the big pot on the stove. Old Kevin settled himself gently into a chair, and smiled at Tully.

  “Busy day, son, wasn’t it? It’s coming almost too fast for me.” Tully kept his gloved hands in his lap, and he was aware that Sarah, at the stove, was watching him alertly, as if sensing something was amiss.

  Tully took a deep breath, and then plunged. “It’s not over yet, Mr. Russel,” Tully began. “I guess it’s time I mixed some of the bad with the good. I’m sorry it has to be this way.”

  Kevin frowned. “What way is that?”

  “I’m a crook, Mr. Russel,” Tully said flatly, his voice low and stubborn. “You see, I didn’t like your son Jimmy. In fact, I hated his guts. Twice I sat on promotions for him.” Tully paused, watching Kevin to see what effect his words would have on the old man. Kevin’s expression was one only of kindly patience; Tully’s words seemed to have held no surprise for him.

  Tully continued, “Still, no matter what kind of trash you think a man is, you talk with him—especially if you’re both hurt, captured and lying fifty miles behind enemy lines. I already knew some of Jimmy’s background. It was while we were prisoners that he told me about the Vicksburg Claims. I also knew that Jimmy was going to die. They were paying no attention to his gangrene.”

  Again Tully paused, knowing how cruel his words were and how necessary. Sarah, while Tully was talking, had come over to stand beside Kevin. She was watching Tully with an expression that in this serious moment he could not fathom. She seemed almost pleased by his ugly words.

  “When we got to the San Diego Hospital,” Tully went on, “I had set my mind on a fast buck. I got to thinking I’d fought enough of the other guys’ war while he was making dough. I knew I’d be out as soon as I was well. But to what? A company job that maybe I wasn’t well enough to hold down?” Tully shook his head. “That didn’t seem very smart when, with a little luck, I could make a play for the big kill. By that time Jimmy was too far gone to stop me even if he’d known what I was going to do. Do you know what that was, Mr. Russel?”

  “I do,” Kevin said softly.

  Tully looked at him blankly. “You do?”

  Kevin nodded. “You were going to write me pretending you were a stranger writing for Jimmy. You were going to say what a wonderful man Lieutenant Tully Gibbs was. You were going to say it so often in those letters from Jimmy that I’d believe it. You hoped to get a share in the Vicksburg Claims.”

  For fifteen long seconds Tully was speechless, and then he said, “How did you know I wrote those letters?”

  Old Kevin smiled gently. “Why, to begin with, what those letters of Jimmy’s said just didn’t sound like him. He was a mean boy, and all his life I never heard him say a good word about anyone. That got me suspicious. So when you showed up, I went to the hotel and asked Earl to let me see your registration card.” Old Kevin lifted his fragile shoulders in a shrug. “It was the same handwriting as the handwriting in those letters. You wrote them all, praising yourself. I figured if a man thought he was that good, he ought to be allowed to prove it. I figured as long as you were on the level with me, I’d keep quiet. You were—and I did.”

  Tully nodded once, and said bleakly, “Well, now you know.” He grimaced. “I’m country rock, Mr. Russel—no showing worth a damn.” And he raised his glance to Sarah.

  Without speaking, Sarah skirted the table, bent over and kissed him on the mouth.

  In total bewilderment Tully looked from her to Kevin, who was smiling.

  “I’d suggest,” old Kevin said, “that you carry on from here, son.”

  Tully knew then that old Kevin Russel, shrewd, patient and forgiving, had gambled on him, hoping his ambition, his greed and his stupid dishonesty would burn out of him with time.

  Tully felt his throat tighten with emotion, and he looked up into Sarah’s face, his glance questioning.

  Sarah said, “You heard the man. The same goes for me.”

  THE END

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