Jack n’ Whitey come inta my camp one night up in Rattlesnake. They was actin’ kinda nervous, ya know, givin’ each other looks outta the corners a their eyes ‘n not sayin’ much. Whitey I didn’ know so well, but I knowed Jack from way back. Know him well ‘nuff ta know it ain’t like him ta clam up like ‘at. Ev’ry time I’d run crost’ him he’d be throwin’ the shit around; tellin’ stories so wild ya knowed they was lies. Mos’ fellas call him Lyin’ Jack ‘cause he tells so many lies. He don’t know they call him ‘at. He goes ‘long thinkin’ ev’ryone b’lieves his stories. Ye’ll nev’r hear the same story twice the same way. Ev’ry time he tells one, he’ll doctor it up a bit ta make it more int’restin’.
Anahow, we’re three of us squatted aroun’ the fire, ‘n I ask Jack what’s new with him, spectin’ ta hear a good one, ‘n he sez, “Nothin”. Then’s when I knew fer sure some’um’s up. I figger it’s none a my business, so I let it go.
Come next mornin’, I had ta go inta Wishram fer supplies, ‘n neither a those two offered ta go ‘long ‘n help carry the stuff. Now, I’m nobody’s nigger, but I figgered they gotta hash over what it was they had on their minds. Both give me more ‘n ‘nuff money fer their share a the grub, mebbe ta make up fer not goin’ in with me, so I let it go, figgerin’ they’d git it all talked out b’fore I got back.
When I come inta camp with them groceries, things sure changed. The two a them started chatterin’ like jaybirds, askin’ me what’s goin’ on in town, ‘n did I see ana’one we knew, were they’s any cops aroun’, n’ like ‘at. I let ‘em go on fer awhile, figgerin’ if I didn’t say too much, they’d git ta the point. After beatin’ ‘roun’ the bush some, Jack sez, “Well, goddamnit, ya didn’ tell anyone we was out here with ya, did’ja?” Worry was writ all over him, ‘n he tells me him ‘n Whitey er in trouble. The night b’fore, when they’s comin’ in from Pasco, they’s ridin’ on this flat car with some guy wearin’ a red bandanna. ‘N this guy ‘n Jack got inta it ‘bout some’um er other, ‘n the guy pulled a knife on Jack. I guess Whitey grabbed the guy from b’hind, ‘n they threw him off the train. Said it was movin’ at a pretty good clip when he went off. They was scared ‘cause a lotta guys, includin’ some rails, seen the three of ‘em catch outta Pasco tagether. Jack’s been ridin’ this part a the country better ‘n twenty years, ‘n Whitey’s been aroun’ half that long, so them rails know the two a them by sight. The way they figgered, it was only a matter a time b’fore someone seen the body lyin’ ‘long the tracks ‘n the cops’d be askin’ aroun’ Pasco who was on the train with the guy.
They ask could they hide out in Rattlesnake with me, ‘n I’d bring ‘em supplies ‘n keep an ear open, jus’ so’s they wouldn’t be seen nowheres. I didn’ mind; they’s both good tramps when ya come down to it. Anahow, I don’t take ta the law messin’ in a man’s affairs. A good tramp don’t call the law. He settles things on this own. ‘Sides, they kept camp, gettin’ firewood, doin’ the cookin’, ‘n washin’ dishes. That Whitey’s a damn good cook. Use’ ta cook in one a them big restaurants in New York. ‘N’ on a ship; he was a cook on a ocean liner.
I was goin’ fer supplies ev’ry day ‘n hangin’ roun’ the yards ta see if I could pick up on anathin’ b’fore headin’ back ta camp. Jack n’ Whitey’d be there waitin’ on me, all the time askin’ if they’re bein’ looked fer yet. Three days went by ‘n didn’ hear nothin’. Talked ta plenty a tramps come in from Pasco, ‘n no one let on about Jack ‘n Whitey bein’ looked fer. The whole thing was a little pecul’r. Some’um like ‘at’d travel up ‘n down the line quicker ‘n if ya telegraphed it. First tramp ‘at git off the train’d tell the entire story ‘bout how Jack ‘n Whitey kilt a guy, ‘n the cops er lookin’ fer ‘em. Jus’ like when Carl n’ Jimmy got kilt down in Oroville awhile back. I was in Washin’ton when it happened, ‘n heard ev’ry damn detail in less ‘n two days: how they was shot with they’s own guns, ‘n the guy that did it took of with Carl’s boots ‘n left his own at their cabin, the whole story in less ‘n two days. ‘N this thing with Jack n’ Whitey happened less ‘n fifty miles from where we was. It jus’ didn’ figger not ta hear nothin’.
Third day they was jungled with me, I come walkin’ inta Wishram fer supplies, ‘n I see this guy wearing a red bandanna sittin’ ‘longside the tracks. Was beat ta hell; clothes all tore up, ‘n ev’ry place there was skin showin’ had a scab er cut er some’um. So I goes over n’ ask what the hell happened, ‘n he tells me he got inta a fight with a couple guys n’ they throwed him off the train. Goddamn, how ‘at son of a bitch didn’ git himself kilt I’ll never know. Train runs better ‘n forty, fifty mile an hour ‘long there. ‘N it’s nothin’ but boulders ‘n rocks. Ain’t a sof’ place ta lan’ if ya was lookin’ fer one. He said he walked fer three days, all scraped up like ‘at, ta git ta where he was sittin’. On my way back ta camp I give him half a loaf a bread ‘n a can a mackerel. Figgered he was owed ‘at much.
I git inta camp ‘n tell Jack ‘n Whitey they’s someone they should see. They folla’d me halfways ta town ta where the guy was, ‘n they seen him sittin’ there, ‘n the two a them looked like they seen a ghost. Ya kin bet they was sure as hell relieved he weren’t dead. Whitey sez ta the guy, “You awright?” The guy jus’ give a nod. That was it. Nothin’ else. Nobody said nothin’. The guy went on eatin’, ‘n Jack ‘n Whitey ‘n I went on back ta camp.
98.