CHAPTER TEN
"Wanta drive?" Casey's friend was rolling a smoke before he crankedup. "They tell me up in Lund that no man livin' ever got the chance tolook back and see Casey Ryan swallowing dust. I've heard of somethat's tried. But I reckon," he added pensively, while he rubbed thedamp edge of the paper down carefully with a yellowed thumb, "Fords isout of your line, now. Maybe you don't toy with nothin' cheaper than atwin-six."
"Well, you can ask anybody if Casey Ryan's the man to git big-headed!Money don't spoil ME none. There ain't anybody c'n say it does. CaseyRyan is Casey Ryan wherever an' whenever yuh meet up with him. Yuhmight mebby see me next, hazin' a burro over a ridge. Or yuh might seeme with ten pounds uh flour, a quart uh beans an' a sour-dough bucketon my back. Whichever way the game breaks--you'll be seein' CaseyRyan; an' you'll see 'im settin' in the game an' ready t' push his lastwhite chip to the center."
"I believe it, Casey. Darned if I don't. Well, you drive 'er awhile;till yuh get tired, anyway." He bent to the crank, gave a heave andclimbed in, with Casey behind the wheel, looking pleased to be thereand quite ready to show the world he could drive.
"Say, if I drive till I'm TIRED," he retorted, "I'm liable to soak 'erhubs in the Atlantic Ocean before I quit. And then, mebby I'll back'er out an' drive 'er to the end of Venice Pier just for pastime."
"Up in Lund they're talkin' yet about your drivin'," his new friendflattered him. "They say there's no stops when you get the wheelcuddled up to your chest. No quittin' an' no passin' yuh by with amerry laugh an' a cloud of alkali dust. I guess it's right. I've beenwantin' to meet yuh."
"That there last remark sounds like a traffic cop I had a run-in withonce!" Casey snorted--merely to hide his gratification. "You soundgood, just to listen to, but you ain't altogether believable. There'smen in Lund that'd give an ear to meet me in a narrow trail with ahairpin turn an' me on the outside an' drunk.
"They'd like it to be about a four-thousand-foot drop, straight down.Lund as a town ain't so crazy about me that they'd close up whilst Iwas bein' planted, an' stop all traffic for five minutes. A showbenefit was sprung on Lund once, to help Casey Ryan that was supposedto be crippled. An' I had to give a good Ford--a DARN' good Ford!--tothe benefitters, so is they could git outa town ahead uh the howlin'mob. That's how I know the way Lund loves Casey Ryan. Yuh can't kidME, young feller."
Meanwhile, Casey swung north into Cajon Pass; up that long, straight,cement-paved highway to the hills he showed his new friend how a Fordcould travel when Casey Ryan juggled the wheel. The full moon waspushing up into a cloud bank over a high peak beyond the Pass. The fewcars they met were gone with a whistle of wind as Casey shot by.
He raced a passenger train from the mile whistling-post to thecrossing, made the turn and crossed the track with the white finger ofthe headlight bathing the Ford blindingly. He completed that S turnand beat the train to the next crossing half a mile farther on; wherehe "spiked 'er tail", as he called it, stopping dead still and waitingjeeringly for the train to pass. The engineer leaned far out of thecab window to bellow his opinion of such driving; which was unfavorableto the full extent of his vocabulary.
"Nothin' the matter with a Ford, as I can see," Casey observedcarelessly, when he was under way again.
"You sure are some driver," his new friend praised him, letting go theedge of the car and easing down again into the seat. "Give yuh a Fordand all the gas yuh can burn and I can't see that you'd need to worrynone about any of them saps that makes it their business to interferewith travelin'. I'm glad that moon's quit the job. Gives theheadlights a show. Hit 'er up now, fast as yuh like. After thatcrossin' back there I ain't expectin' to tremble on no curves. I seeyou're qualified to spin 'er on a plate if need be. And for a Ford,she sure can travel."
Casey therefore "let 'er out", and the Ford went like a scared lizardup the winding highway through the Pass. At Cajon Camp he slowed,thinking they would need to fill the radiator before attempting toclimb the steep grade to the summit. But the young man shook his headand gave the "highball." (Which, if you don't already know it, is thesignal for full speed ahead.)
Full speed ahead Casey gave him, and they roared on up the steep,twisting grade to the summit of the Pass. Casey began to feel adistinct admiration for this particular Ford. The car was heavilyloaded--he could gauge the weight by the "feel" of the car as he droveyet it made the grade at twenty-five miles an hour and reached the topwithout boiling the radiator; which is better than many a morepretentious car could do.
"Too bad you've made your pile already," the young man broke a longsilence. "I'd like to have a guy like you for my pardner. The desertain't talkative none when you're out in the middle of it, and you knowthere ain't another human in a day's drive. I've been going it alone.Nine-tenths of these birds that are eager to throw in with yuh thinksthat fifty-fifty means you do the work and they take the jack. I'mplumb fed upon them pardnerships. But if you didn't have your jackstored away--a hull mountain of it, I reckon--I'd invite yuh to setinto the game with me; I sure would."
Casey spat into the dark beside the car. "They's never a pile so big afeller ain't willin' to make it bigger," he replied sententiously."Fer, as I'm concerned, Casey's never backed up from a dollar yet. ButI ain't no wild colt no more, runnin' loose an' never a halter mark onme. I'm bein' broke to harness, and it's stable an' corral from nowon, an' no more open range fer Casey. The missus hopes to high-schoolme in time. She's a good hand--gentle but firm, as the preacher says.And I guess it's time fer Casey Ryan to quit hellin' around the countryan' settle down an' behave himself."
"I could put you in the way of adding some easy money to your bankroll," the other suggested tentatively.
But Casey shook his head. "Twenty years ago yuh needn't have asked metwice, young feller. I'd 'a' drawed my chair right up and stacked mychips a mile high. Any game that come along, I played 'er down to thelast chip. Twenty years ago--yes, er ten!--Casey Ryan woulda tore thatL. A. jail down rock by rock an' give the roof t' the kids to make aplayhouse. Them L. A. cops never woulda hauled me t' jail in no wagon.I mighta loaded 'em in behind, and dropped 'em off at the first morguean' drove on a-whistlin'. That there woulda been Casey Ryan's gait afew years back. Take me now, married to a good woman an' gettin'gray--" Casey sighed, gazing wishfully back at the Casey Ryan he hadbeen and might never be again.
"No, sir, I ain't so darned rich I ain't willin' to add a few more ironmen to the bunch. But on account of the missus I've got to kinda pickmy chances. I ain't had money so long but what it feels good to remindmyself I got it. I carry a thousand dollars or so in my inside pocket,just to count over now an' then to convince myself I needn't worryabout a grubstake. I've got to soak it into my bones gradual that Ican afford to settle down and live tame, like the missus wants.Stand-up collars every day, an' step into a chiny bathtub every nightan' scrub--when you ain't doin' nothin' to git dirt under your fingernails even! Funny, the way city folks act. The less they do to gitdirty, the more soap they wear out. You can ask anybody if that ain'tright.
"Can't chew tobacco in the house, even, 'cause there's no place yuhdast to spit. I stuck m' head out of the bedroom window oncet, an Ilet fly an' it landed on a lady; an' the missus went an' bought her anew hat an took my plug away from me. I had to keep my chewin' tobaccoin the tool-box of my car, after that, an' sneak out to the beach nowan' then an' chew where I could spit in the ocean. That's city lifefor yuh!"
"When I git to thinkin' about hittin' out into the hills prospectin, orsomethin', that roll uh dough I pack stands right on its hind legs an'says I got no excuse. I've got enough to keep me in bacon an' beans,anyway. An' the missus gits down in the mouth when I so much asmention minin'."
"A guy grows old fast when he quits the game and sets down to do thegrandpa-by-the-fire. First you know, a clown that thinks it's time hetook it easy is gummin' 'is grub, and shiverin' when yuh open the door,an' takin' naps in the daytime same as babies. Let a guy once preachh
e's gettin' old--"
Casey jerked the gas lever and jumped the car ahead viciously. "Well,now, any time yuh see CASEY RYAN gummin' 'is grub an' needin' a napafter dinner--"
"A clown GITS that way once he pulls out of the game. I've saw ithappen time an' again." The young man laughed rather irritatingly."Say, when I tell it to Bill Masters that Casey Ryan has plumb playedout his string an' laid down an' QUIT, by hock, and can be seenhereafter SETTIN' WITH A SHAWL OVER HIS SHOULDERS--"
Casey nearly turned the Ford over at that insult. He jerked it backinto the road and sent it ahead again at a faster pace.
"Well, now, any time yuh see CASEY RYAN settin' with a shawl over hisshoulders--"
"Well, maybe not YOU; but the bird sure comes to it that thinks he'stoo old to play the game. Why, you'll never be ready to settle down!Take yuh twenty years from now--I'd rather bank on a pardner like you'dbe than some young clown that ain't had the experience. From the yarnsI've heard about yuh, yuh don't back down from nothing. And you'rewilling to give a pardner a chance to get away with his hide on him.I'd rather be held up by the law than by some clown that's workin' withme."
He paused; and when he, spoke again his tone had changed to meet aprosaic detail of the drive.
"Stop here in Victorville, will yuh, Casey? I'll take a look at theradiator and maybe take on some more gas and oil. I've been stuck onthe desert a few times with an empty tank--and that learns a guy tokeep the top of his gas tank full and never mind the bottom."
"Good idea," said Casey shortly, his own tone relaxing its tension of afew minutes before. "I run a garage over at Patmos once, an' the boobsI seen creepin' in on their last spoonful uh gas--walkin' sometimes formiles to carry gas back to where they was stalled--learnt Casey Ryan tofill 'er up every chancet he gits."
But although the subject of age had been dropped half a mile back inthe sand, certain phrases flung at him had been barbed and had bittendeep into Casey Ryan's self-esteem. They stung and rankled there. Hehad squirmed at the picture his new friend had so ruthlessly drawn withcrude words, but bold, of doddering old age. Casey resented theimplication that he might one day fill that picture.
He began vaguely to resent the Little Woman's air of needing to protecthim from himself. Casey Ryan, he told himself boastfully, had neverneeded protection from anybody. He had managed for a good many yearsto get along on his own hook. The Little Woman was all right, but shewas making a mistake--a big mistake--if she thought she had toclose-herd him to keep him out of trouble.
He rolled a smoke and wished that the Little Woman would settle downwith him somewhere in the desert, where he could keep a couple ofburros and go prospecting in the hills. Where sagebrush could grow totheir very door if it wanted to, and the moon could show them longstretches of mesa land shadowed with mystery, and then drop out ofsight behind high peaks.
He felt that he might indeed grow old fast, shut up in a city. Itoccurred to him that the Little Woman was unreasonable to expect it ofhim. Her idea of getting him out of town for a time, as the judge hadadvised, was to send him up to San Francisco to be close-herded there.Casey had promised to go, but now the prospect jarred. He wasn'tfeeble-minded, that he knew of; it seemed natural to want to do his owndeciding now and then. When he got back home in the morning, Caseymeant to have a serious talk with the Little Woman, and get right downto cases, and tell her that he was built for the desert, and that youcan't teach an old dog new tricks.
"They been tryin' to make Casey Ryan over into something he ain't," hemuttered under his breath, while his new friend was in the garageoffice paying for the gas. "Jack an' the Little Woman's all right, butthey can't drive Casey Ryan in no town herd. Cops is cops; and theygot 'em in San Francisco same as they got 'em in L. A. If they got 'em,I'll run agin' 'em. I'll tell 'em so, too."
The young man came out, sliding silver coins into his trousers pocket.He glanced up and down the narrow, little street already deserted,cranked the Ford and climbed in.
"All set," he observed cheerfully, "Let's go!"
Casey slipped his cigarette to the upper, left-hand corner of hiswhimsical, Irish mouth, forced a roar out of the little engine andwhipped around the corner and across the track into the faintly lightedroad that led past shady groves and over a hill or two, and so into thedesert again.
His new friend had fallen into a meditative mood, staring out throughthe windshield and whistling under his breath a pleasant little melodyof which he was probably wholly unaware. Perhaps he felt that he hadsaid enough to Casey just at present concerning a possible partnership.Perhaps he even regretted having said anything at all.
Casey himself drove mechanically, his rebellious mood slippinggradually into optimism. You can't keep Casey Ryan down for long; inspite of his past unpleasant experiences he was presently weavingoptimistic plans of his own. The young fellow beside him seemed toreturn Casey's impulsive friendship. Casey thought pleasureably of thepossibility of their driving over the desert together, sharing alikethe fortunes of the game and the adventures of the trail. Casey himselfhad learned to be shy of partnerships--witness Barney Oakes!--but anyman with a drop of Irish in his blood and a bit of Irish twinkle in hiseye would turn his back on defeat and try again for a winning.
They had just passed over a hilly stretch with many turns and windings,the moon blotted out completely now by the cloud bank. For half an hourthey had not seen any evidence that other human beings were alive inthe world. But when they went rattling across a small mesa where thesand was deep, a car with one brilliant spotlight suddenly showeditself around a turn just ahead of them.
Casey slowed down automatically and gave a twist to the steering wheel.But the sand just here was deep and loose, and the front wheels of theFord gouged unavailingly at the sides of the ruts. Casey honked thehorn warningly and stopped full, swearing a good, Caseyish oath. Theother car, having made no apparent effort to turn out, also stoppedwithin a few feet of Casey, the spotlight fairly blinding him.
The young man beside Casey slid up straight in the seat and stoppedwhistling. He leaned out of the car and stared ahead without the dustyinterference of the windshield.
"You can back up a few lengths and make the turn-out all right," hesuggested.
"If I can back up, so can he. He's got as much road behind him as whatI'VE got," Casey retorted stubbornly. "He never made a try at turnin'out. I was watchin'. Any time I can't lick a road hawg, he's got alicense to lick me. Make yourself comf'table, young feller--we'reliable to set here a spell." Casey grinned. "I spent four hours on ahill once, out-settin, a road hawg that wanted me to back up."
The man in the other car climbed out and came toward them, walkingoutside the beams cast by his own glaring spotlight. He bulked ratherlarge in the shadows; but Casey Ryan, blinking at him through thewindshield, was still ready and willing to fight if necessary. Or, ifstubbornness were to be the test, Casey could grin and feel secure. Alittle man, he reflected, can sit just as long as a big man.
The big man walked leisurely up to the car and smiled as he lifted afoot to the running board. He leaned forward, his eyes going pastCasey to the other man.
"I kinda thought it was you, Kenner," he drawled. "How much liquor yougot aboard to-night?"
Casey, slanting a glance downward, glimpsed the barrel of a bigautomatic looking toward them.
"What if I ain't got any?" the young man parried glumly. "You'retaking a lot for granted."
The big man chuckled. "If you ain't loaded with hootch, it's becauseone of the boys met up with yuh before I did. Open 'er up. Lemme seewhat you got."
The young fellow scowled, swore under his breath and climbed out,turning toward the loaded tonneau with reluctant obedience.
"I can't argue with the law," he said, as he began to pull out a rollof bedding wedged in tightly. "But, for cripes sake, go as easy as youcan. I'm plumb lame from my last fall!"
The big man chuckled again. "The law's merciful as, it can afford tobe, and I've got a h
eart like an ox. Got any jack on yuh?"
"I'm just about cleaned, and that's the Gawd's truth. Have a heart,can't yuh? A man's got t' live."
"Slip me five hundred, anyway. How much is your load?"
"Sixty gallons--bottled, most of it. Two kegs in bulk." Young Kennerwas proceeding stoically with the unloading. Casey, his mouth clampedtight shut, was glaring stupifiedly straight out through the windshield.
"Pile out thirty gallons of the bottled goods by that bush. You cankeep the kegs." The big man's eyes shifted to Casey Ryan'sexpressionless profile and dwelt there curiously.
"Seems like I know you," he said abruptly. "Ain't you the guy that wasbrought in with that Black Butte bunch of moonshiners and got off onaccount of a nice wife and an L. A. alibi? Sure you are! Casey Ryan.I got yuh placed now." He threw back his head and laughed.
Casey might have been an Indian making a society call for all the signof life he gave. Young Kenner, having deposited his camp outfit in aheap on the ground, began lifting out tall, round bottles, four at atime and ricking them neatly beside the large sagebush indicated by theofficer.
Standing upon the running board at Casey's shoulder where he had aclear view, the big man watched the unloading and at the same time keptan eye on Casey. It was perfectly evident that for all his easy goodnature, he was not a man who could be talked out of his purpose.
"All right, pile in your blankets," the big man ordered at last, andyoung Kenner unemotionally began to reload the camp outfit. The bigman's attention shifted to Casey again. He looked at him curiously andgrinned.
"Say, that's a good one you pulled! You had all the county officialsbluffed into thinking you were the victim of that Black Butte bunch,instead of being in cahoots. That alibi of yours was a bird. DoesKenner, here, know you hit the hootch pretty strong at times?Bootlegging's bad business for a man that laps it up the way you do.Where's that piece of change, Kenner?"
"Aw, can't yuh find some way to leave me jack enough to buy gas andgrub?" Young Kenner asked sullenly, reaching into his pocket. The bigman shook his head.
"I'm doing a lot for you boys, when I let yuh get past me with theLizzie, to say nothing of half your load. I'd ought to trundle yuhback to San Berdoo; you both know that as well as I do. I'm toosoft-hearted for this job, anyway. Hand over the roll."
Young Kenner swore and extended his arm behind Casey. "That leaves mesix bits," he growled, as the big man dropped something into his coatpocket. "You might give me back ten, anyway."
"Couldn't possibly. I have to have something to square myself with ifthis leaks out. Just back up, till you can get around my car. Turn tothe left where the sand ain't so deep and you ain't likely to run overthe booze."
With the big man still standing at his shoulder on the running board,Casey Ryan did what he had rashly declared he never would do; he backedthe Ford, turned it to the left as he had been commanded to do, anddrove around the other car. It was bitter work for Casey; but even herecognized the fact that the "settin'" was not good that evening. Backin the road again, he stopped when he was told to stop, and waited,with a surface calm altogether strange to Casey, while the officerstepped off and gave a bit of parting advice.
"Better keep right on going, boys. I'd hate to see yuh get in trouble,so you'd better take this old road up ahead here. That'll bring yuh outat Dagget and you'll miss Barstow altogether. I just came from there;there's a hard gang hanging around on the lookout for anything they canpick up. Don't get caught again. On your way!"
Casey drove for half a mile still staring straight before him. Thenyoung Kenner laughed shortly.
"That's Smilin' Lou," he said. "He's a mean boy to monkey with. Talkabout road hawgs--he's one yuh can't outset!"