Screenland (Jul-Dec 1948)

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But if I were you I'd save myself the trouble wading after them, as I reckon they'll probably be givin' themselves up before morning." He waited until the car had started again before he went on. "Those boys and George grew up together," he said then. "No harm in 'em. They went to Palm Grove, got themselves a snootful and started to take Florida back for the Indians. I sent word for 'em to come in and give themselves up. Not that I know where they are, understand." "The Indians really trust Dad Temple," Nora said softly. "As far as they're concerned he's the United States of America." They were wonderful people, Nora and the old man. The hotel seemed the way it should be, now that they were in it. Even Curly sprawled out in one of the lobby chairs no longer seemed sinister as they walked past him into Temple's office. "Major," Nora said taking the chair next to her father-in-law's. "Were you with George when he died?" And then as he nodded, her hand closed over the old man's. "Was he in very much pain?" M'Cloud gave it to her straight because it was easiest that way. "He never knew what hit him," he said. "He was a good soldier. From start to finish you'd have been proud of him. It wasn't just a matter of doing his duty. He was always looking for a way to do more and finding it. He had to be killed. The wonder is he lasted 'til Cassino." Nora spoke so quietly. "When you believe like George believed, maybe dying isn't very important." Temple nodded. "The thing is, George believed in what he died for. People's rights to hold their head up." M'Cloud tried not to let them see what he was feeling as the old bitterness welled up within him. He had felt that way too . . . once. But now victory and everything that went with it was like ashes in his mouth. But he couldn't tell them that. He couldn't take the little they had left away from them. "George talked about you all the time," he said instead. "You'd never guess the things I know about you both. Like the inscription in your wedding ring, Nora. It says, 'Evermore'." He looked away from the sadness in her eyes. "He talked so much about this country, it gave me the idea of maybe settling here. I'm tired of wandering around." No one said anything. Suddenly a strong gust of air sent the papers on the table flying around the room. Somewhere a shutter slammed shut and from a distance came the wail of a siren. SCREENLAND 'That's a storm warning," the girl said. "We'd better close the shutters and get the lamps." The rain started before they reached the lobby. All the four men were there now, and as M'Cloud went over to one of the windows, Curly looked up. "Gettin' ready for the hurricane, uh?" he asked affably. But as the telephone rang, and Nora hurried towards it, his voice changed abruptly. "Don't answer it," he snarled. His arm shot out blocking her way as he made a lunge for the phone and as M'Cloud started towards them he found himself staring into the automatics the others had suddenly whipped out of their pockets. So it hadn't been imagination that feeling he had before of being held by invisible guns. "Hello?" Curly's slow drawl into the telephone added to the unreality of the scene. "No, Mr. Temple isn't here. No, she's not here either. Me? I'm a guest at the hotel. No, we haven't seen your deputy. Sure. If he shows up I'll tell him to call back." He hung up the phone and motioned towards the stairs, and with the guns driving them on there was nothing to do but obey. Temple's face whitened as M'Cloud and Nora half pushed, half pulled his chair upstairs. "Shouldn't have let 'em stay," he muttered. "Should've known something was wrong hiring the whole place like this out of season." His voice rose to a shout. "I'm not afraid of your guns. Go ahead, shoot. You haven't got the nerve." "Careful, Mr. Temple," M'Cloud cautioned, his eyes fixed on the door at the head of the stairs and the man who stood there, eyeing them arrogantly. He had seen that face before. He knew it. "You'd think this rain would cool things off," the man's voice was as arrogant as the rest of him. "But it don't seem to." "Listen you," Temple said. "You, Mr. Brown. Are you thieves or what? Is this a robbery?" . The man called Brown leisurely moved his cigar to the other corner of his mouth. "Look, Pop, forget the questions. What you don't know won't hurt you. We'll be outa here in a coupla hours and . . ." He stopped, showing tension for the first time as that sudden groan sounded behind him. He turned but it was too late to stop the man making his uncertain way to the door. It was Sawyer, the deputy, and M'Cloud's stomach tightened as he saw the blood streaming down his face from the wound in his forehead. Nora started towards him. but a gun waved her back. Somehow the deputy managed to keep his feet. "You won't get away with it, Rocco," he said and at the name something clicked in M'Cloud's brain, and he was back in his old newspaper days in Chicago, before the War. "Johnny Rocco, of course," he said. The deputy's eyes looked glazed. "I came back looking for the Osceola boys," he said in a wavering voice. "In the lobby I ran up against him," he nodded towards Curly. "He didn't look right to me so I asked a few questions. The answers were fishy and I put in a call to Ben Wade. But before I got it he