Chapter 48: The Party (Part Two)
When Dutch heard this, his brows drew together slightly and his gaze turned distant, as though he had sunk into deep thought.
Minutes slipped by; only after several did he slowly raise his head and say the matter would have to be discussed thoroughly with Hosea before they could decide their next move.
Johnny wasn't in a hurry. He knew Dutch needed time to digest the information and reach a decision.
So he stood quietly to one side and waited, while fishing a thick wad of small-denomination bills from his pocket.
With practiced ease he counted the stack, then divided it evenly into four portions.
One by one Johnny walked up to the other men who'd taken part in the job and handed each his share.
When it came to Charles and Javier, the two exchanged a look of pure surprise.
In past jobs, any money found had always been kept by whoever grabbed it.
For Johnny, a man famous for tightfistedness, to hand out cash of his own free will was the last thing they'd expected.
They had him wrong; in truth he spent more than all of them combined—he just refused to waste it on lukewarm coffee or rotgut whiskey.
Yet when the bills reached Arthur, things played out differently.
Without hesitation Arthur's big, powerful hand shot out like lightning and scooped up the money.
He started counting, muttering as he did:
'Ten dollars… hm, not bad. But don't think this gets you off the hook, Johnny!'
I saw you sneak off with two bottles of prime brandy—hand 'em over!
Otherwise I'll never forgive you for the forty-eight hours of hell you put me through!'
Everyone knew Arthur never turned down anything—cash, booze, whatever—so Johnny, reluctant but aware this was not a man to cross,
figured if he refused he might wake up tomorrow sporting a pair of black eyes.
With a resigned sigh he dug the two prized bottles from his pack and passed them over.
Just then a tin cup appeared between them: Uncle, inevitably drawn by the scent of liquor.
After a few drinks Johnny slipped away, afraid he might miss what came next.
He walked over to the cash box alone, dropped in two pocket-watches and thirty dollars,
then carried the last share to Trelawny.
Trelawny stared at the ten-dollar bill, eyes wide. 'Well now, Johnny—this is unexpected. Dutch already paid me.'
But Johnny shook his head firmly and insisted.
In the end Trelawny accepted the bill with a helpless shrug.
From a nearby tent Hosea watched it all unfold.
Seeing Johnny so determined, he nodded approvingly and exchanged a smile with Dutch.
Dutch, equally pleased, murmured,
'Look at our Johnny—hardest-working, warmest heart in the whole Gang.
Not like Arthur; haven't seen that boy bring a cent into camp in ages.' They chuckled.
Dutch beckoned Johnny over.
When Johnny stepped inside, Dutch clapped him on the shoulder. 'Son, I've got a fine plan.
Before we catch that maniac killer, you slip into town and lift a few wanted posters.
Hand them out to the boys.
That'll build you a reputation fast,
and we'll keep at it.
With Mr. Trelawny singing your praises, you'll be the most upstanding citizen we know! Ha-ha!'
Johnny's eyes lit up; he nodded eagerly, already seeing himself hailed as the great Han-level hero.
Hosea joined in with a wink: 'Hell, Dutch, let's just turn Arthur in ourselves—five-thousand-dollar bounty ain't pocket change!'
All three burst into laughter that rolled out across the camp.
Across the way Arthur, sharing a bottle with Uncle, suddenly shivered, as though marked by bad luck.
Smiling, Dutch stepped to the gramophone and lifted the lid.
As bright, jaunty music filled the air he waved for everyone to dance.
Quick as a flash he offered his hand to the lovely Miss O'Shea;
she accepted with a smile,
and the pair became the center of attention, gliding across the ground like butterflies showing the rest how it was done.
Couples paired off in their wake.
Arthur, grinning, bowed to Mary-Beth and asked for the honour;
she blushed but placed her hand in his,
and together they swept onto the floor in time with the tune.
Not everyone felt the pull of the dance.
Johnny was one of them.
He wandered to the fire and settled on a log.
There Javier and the others were belting out 'The Louisville Lady',
and Johnny joined the chorus, their voices rising into the night and turning the party merrier than ever.
When the festivities finally wound down the crowd drifted away, content and exhausted.
Johnny trudged to his tent and collapsed on the cot,
too tired even to undress, longing only for sleep.
As his eyes closed he glanced outside and spotted Arthur skulking about, eavesdropping with obvious amusement.
Johnny chuckled, shook his head, and thought:
'Bored stiff, that one. Wait till John comes back, smells something strange, and has to crawl to Abigail for comfort!'
With that he slipped into deep, dreamless sleep.
Morning light filtered through the canvas and woke him.
He rubbed his eyes, looked around—and froze: he was lying in Arthur's bed!
'Shit!' he hissed, bewildered.
'What the hell did that bastard do after I passed out?
Sneak me over here so he could curl up in my tent like some mama's boy? Damn nonsense!'
With a shudder Johnny leapt up, determined to get to the bottom of it at once!
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