King Blood (1993) by Thompson Jim

Author:Thompson, Jim [Thompson, Jim]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Published: 2011-03-14T23:15:08.562000+00:00

She kissed him again. Resumed her hypnotic stroking of his head. But Arlie was not yet won over. Or if he was, he did not say so.

He flung back the covers suddenly, and swung his feet to the floor.

'Time to get up,' he announced. 'Pile out, ol' squaw.'

He stood up, began pulling on his clothes.

Outside the door, Joshie also stood up and silently returned to her room. *c

In his room, Critch King also began dressing; now and then wincing or stifling a groan as his movements twisted some saddle-tortured muscle or joint. His first week had been pure murder for him. Every day he had silently sworn that he could not take another day. Every morning it had been a monumental struggle to get out of bed, and he had had to fight to keep from begging off for the day. He had mustered up the strength and courage to resist such an admission of weakness only because he had to. For despite the surprising amiability ' even favoritism ' which his father had shown toward him, he well knew Old Ike's detestation of weakness. Ike simply would not tolerate it in a son, any more than he would have tolerated improvidence. And since Critch had to remain at the Junction, at least until he recovered his stolen money, and he could only remain there by living up to the old man's standards ' well, somehow he had done it. He had never thought he could, but he had. And now, after three weeks, what had once seemed unbearable was now merely difficult, and less and less difficult with each passing day.

In the flickering light of the kerosene lamp, he studied himself in the dresser mirror; felt a kind of abashed pride at the change in his appearance. The normal olive pallor of his face had given way to heavy tan. He had gained weight; even his shoulders appeared to have broadened. His clothes, garments virtually identical with those worn by Tepaha, Arlie and Ike, now fitted him snugly whereas they had originally seemed to hang on him.

He glanced down at his hands, grinned sourly at their appearance. They were calloused, stiff, the nails torn and stubby. But, never mind. Money and time would take care of such trifles. He would have the first and hence the last as soon as he had evened the score with Arlie. For the time being, he must move slowly. Giving Arlie time to become unwary and let his guard down; working to ingratiate himself even further with Old Ike; getting into the good graces of everyone who might later prove useful to him.

All he had to do was what he had been doing. Work ' and wait for opportunity to reveal itself. And for seventy-two thousand dollars he was prepared to work and wait indefinitely.

Critch finished dressing, putting the final touch to his costume by tucking a knife into his boot-top. The knife was expected of him, and he was doing what was expected.

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