True Grit Read Free Page A

but he believes even the worst of men is entitled to a fair shake. Also the court does not pay any fees for dead men. Quinn is a good peace officer and a lay preacher to boot. He will not plant evidence or abuse a prisoner. He is straight as a string. Yes, I will say Quinn is about the best they have."

    I said, "Where can I find this Rooster?"

    He said, "You will probably find him in Federal Court tomorrow. They will be trying that Wharton boy."

    The sheriff had Papa's gun belt there in a drawer and he gave it to me in a sugar sack to carry. The clothes and blankets were at the boardinghouse. The man Stonehill had the ponies and Papa's saddle at his stock barn. The sheriff wrote me out a note for the man Stonehill and the landlady at the boardinghouse, who was a Mrs. Floyd. I thanked him for his help. He said he wished he could do more.

    It was around 5:30 P.M. when I got to the depot. The days were growing short and it was already dark. The southbound train was to leave some few minutes after 6 o'clock. I found Yarnell waiting outside the freight car where he had loaded the coffin. He said the express agent had consented to let him ride in the car with the coffin.

    He said he would go help me find a seat in a coach but I said, "No, I will stay over a day or two. I must see about those ponies and I want to make sure the law is on the job. Chaney has got clean away and they are not doing much about it."

    Yarnell said, "You can't stay in this city by yourself."

    I said, "It will be all right. Mama knows I can take care of myself. Tell her I will be stopping at the Monarch boardinghouse. If there is no room there I will leave word with the sheriff where I am."

    He said, "I reckon I will stay too."

    I said, "No, I want you to go with Papa. When you get home tell Mr. Myers I said to put him in a better coffin."

    "Your mama will not like this," said he.

    "I will be back in a day or two. Tell her I said not to sign anything until I get home. Have you had anything to eat?"

    "I had me a cup of hot coffee. I ain't hongry."

    "Do they have a stove in that car?"

    "I will be all right wrapped in my coat."

    "I sure do appreciate this, Yarnell."

    "Mr. Frank was always mighty good to me."

    Some people will take it wrong and criticize me for not going to my father's funeral. My answer is this: I had my father's business to attend to. He was buried in his Mason's apron by the Danville lodge.

    I got to the Monarch in time to eat. Mrs. Floyd said she had no vacant room because of the big crowd in town but that she would put me up somehow. The daily rate was seventy-five cents a night with two meals and a dollar with three meals. She did not have a rate for one meal so I was obliged to give her seventy-five cents even though I had planned to buy some cheese and crackers the next morning for my daytime eats. I don't know what her weekly rate was.

    There were ten or twelve people at the supper table and all men except for me and Mrs. Floyd and the poor old blind woman who was called "Grandma Turner." Mrs. Floyd was a right big talker. She explained to everybody that I was the daughter of the man who had been shot in front of her house. I did not appreciate it. She told about the event in detail and asked me impertinent questions about my family. It was all I could do to reply politely. I did not wish to discuss the thing with idly curious strangers, no matter how well intentioned they might be.

    I sat at one corner of the table between her and a tall, long-backed man with a doorknob head and a mouthful of prominent teeth. He and Mrs. Floyd did most of the talking. He traveled about selling pocket calculators. He was the only man there wearing a suit of clothes and a necktie. He told some interesting stories about his experiences but the others paid little attention to him, being occupied with their food like hogs rooting in a bucket.

    "Watch out for those chicken and dumplings," he told me.

    Some of the men stopped