Shelby paused to let Fisher think about it. As they were nearing the outside stairs he said, “Man, I tell you, anybody seen her bare-ass naked knows that’s got to be a woman built for pleasure.”
“Upstairs,” Fisher said.
Shelby went up two steps and paused, looking around over his shoulder. “The thing is, though. She don’t give it out to nobody but me. Less I say it’s all right.” Shelby looked right at his eyes. “You understand me, boss?”
Mr. Manly heard them coming down the hall. He swiveled around from the window and moved the two file folders to one side of the desk, covering the Bible. He picked up a pencil. On his note pad were written the names Harold Jackson and Raymond San Carlos, both underlined, and the notations: Ten days will be Feb. 23, 1909. Talk to both at same time. Ref. to St. Paul to the Corinthians 11:19–33 and 12:1–9.
When the knock came he said, “Come in” at once, but didn’t look up until he knew they were in the room, close to the desk, and he had written on the note paper: See Ephesians 4:1–6.
Bob Fisher came right out with it. “He wants to tell you something.”
In that moment Shelby had no idea what he would say; because Fisher wasn’t bluffing and wasn’t afraid of him; because Fisher stood up and was a tough son of a bitch and wasn’t going to lie and lose face in front of any con. Maybe Fisher would deny the accusation, say prove it. Shelby didn’t know what Fisher would do. He needed time to think. The next moment Mr. Manly was smiling up at him.
“I’m sorry I don’t know everybody’s name yet.”
“This is Frank Shelby,” Fisher said. “He wants to tell you something.”
Shelby watched the little man rise and offer his hand and say, “I’m Everett Manly, your new superintendent.” He watched Mr. Manly sit down again and look off somewhere.
“Frank Shelby…Shelby…forty-five years for armed robbery. Is that right?”
Shelby nodded.
“Forty-five years,” Mr. Manly said. “That’s a long time. Are you working to get some time off for good behavior?”
“I sure am,” Shelby said. He didn’t know if the man was serious or not, but he said it.
“How long have you been here at Yuma?”
“Little over a year.”
“Have you got a good record here? Keep out of fights and trouble?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Ever been in the snake den?”
“No, sir.”
“Got two boys in there now for fighting, you know.”
Shelby smiled a little and shook his head. “It’s funny you should mention them,” he said. “Those two boys are what I wanted to talk to you about.”
Bob Fisher turned to look at him but didn’t say a word.
“I was wondering,” Shelby went on, “what you’d think of us staging a prize fight between those two boys?”
“A prize fight?” Mr. Manly frowned. “Don’t you think they’ve done enough fighting? Lord, it seems all they like to do is fight.”
“They keep fighting,” Shelby said, “because they never get it settled. But, I figure, once they have it out there’ll be peace between them. You see what I mean?”
Mr. Manly began to nod, slowly. “Maybe.”
“We could get them some boxing gloves in town. I don’t mean the prison pay for them. We could take us up a collection among the convicts.”
“I sure never thought of fighting as a way to achieve peace. Bob, have you?”
Fisher said quietly, “No, I haven’t.”
Shelby shrugged. “Well, peace always seems to follow a war.”
“You got a point there, Frank.”
“I know the convicts would enjoy it. I mean it would keep their minds occupied a while. They don’t get much entertainment here.”
“That’s another good point,” Mr. Manly said.
Shelby waited as Mr. Manly nodded, looking as if he was falling asleep. “Well, that’s all I had to say. I sure hope you give it some thought, if just for the sake of those two boys. So they can get it settled.”
“I promise you I will,” Mr. Manly said. “Bob, what do you think about it? Off-hand.”
“I been in prison work a long time,” Fisher said. “I never heard of anything like this.”
“I’ll tell you what, boys. Let me think on it.” Mr. Manly got up out of the chair, extending a hand to Shelby. “It’s nice meeting you, Frank. You keep up the good work and you’ll be out of here before you know it.”
“Sir,” Shelby said, “I surely hope so.”
Bob Fisher didn’t say a word until they were down the stairs and Shelby was heading off along the side of the building, in the shade.
“Where you going?”
Shelby turned, a few steps away. “See about some chow.”
“You can lose your privileges,” Fisher said. “All of them inside one minute.”
Go easy, Shelby thought, and said, “It’s up to you.”
“I can give it all to somebody else. The stuff you sell, the booze, the soft jobs. I pick somebody, the tough boys will side with him and once it’s done he’s the man inside and you’re another con on the rock pile.”
“I’m not arguing with you,” Shelby said. “I used my head and put together what I got. You allow it because I keep the cons in line and it makes your job easier. You didn’t give me a thing when I started.”
“Maybe not, but I can sure take it all away from you.”
“I know that.”
“I will, less you stay clear of Norma Davis.”
Shelby started to smile—he couldn’t help it—even with Fisher’s grim, serious face staring at him.
“Watch yourself,” Fisher said. “You say the wrong thing, it’s done. I’m telling you to keep away from the women. You don’t, you lose everything you got.”
That was all Bob Fisher had to say. He turned and went back up the stairs. Shelby watched him, feeling better than he’d felt in days. He sure would keep away from the women. He’d give Norma all the room she needed. The state Bob Fisher was in, Norma would have his pants off him before the week was out.
6
“Boys, I tell you the Lord loves us all as His children; but you cross Him and He can be mean as a roaring lion. Not mean because he hates you boys, no-sir; mean because he hates sin and evil so much. You don’t believe me, read your Psalms, fifty, twenty-two, where it says, ‘Now consider this, ye that forget God, lest I tear you in pieces’—you hear that?—‘tear you in pieces and there be none to deliver….’ None to deliver means there ain’t nothing left of you.”
Mr. Manly couldn’t tell a thing from their expressions. Sometimes they were looking at him, sometimes they weren’t. Their heads didn’t move much. Their eyes did. Raymond’s eyes would go to the window and stay there a while. Harold would stare at the wall or the bookcase, and look as if he was asleep with his eyes open.
Mr. Manly flipped back a few pages in his Bible. When he looked up again his glasses gleamed in the overhead light. He had brought the two boys out of the snake den after only three days this time. Bob Fisher hadn’t said a word. He’d marched them over, got them fed and cleaned up, and here they were. Here, but somewhere else in their minds. Standing across the desk fifteen, twenty minutes now, and Mr. Manly wondered if either of them had listened to a word he’d said.
“Again in the Psalms, boys, chapter eleven, sixth verse, it says, ‘Upon the wicked shall rain snares, fire and brimstone and a horrible tempest’—that’s like a storm—‘and this shall be the portion of their cup.’
“Raymond, look at me. ‘He that keepeth the commandments keepeth his own soul’—Proverbs, chapter nineteen, verse sixteen—‘but he that despiseth His way shall die.’