Winnie was frightened, but he was also curious about such men as these, and he watched and listened.
“Hey, kid,” one of the card players said. “I hear you are from England. Is that right?”
“That is correct,” Winnie said.
“Ha,” the questioner said. “‘That is correct,’ he said. You reckon all kids from England talk like that?”
“It ain’t just the kids. You’ve heard Teasdale talkin’, ain’t you? Always so prim and proper.”
Suddenly, and unexpectedly, Logan hit the man who had just spoken with a wicked backhanded slap. The blow left the man’s lip bleeding.
“What the hell did you do that for?” he asked, and taking off his yellow scarf, he used the corner of it to dab against the cut on his lip.
“Because you’ve got a big mouth, Poindexter. And you don’t know when to shut up,” Logan said.
“What did I say? All I said was ...”
Logan glared at him, and Poindexter suddenly realized what he had done.
“Oh,” he said. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean nothin’ by it. I won’t say anythin’ else.”
“Yes, that’s probably the wisest thing for you to do,” Logan said. He threw down his cards. “Deal me out. Clayton?”
“Yeah?” Clayton replied. Clayton was the one who had been doing the cooking.
“How much longer till we can get some grub?”
“These beans is all done, and I’m takin’ off some pan cornbread now,” he said.
Logan stepped over to the stove, got a bowl of beans and broke off a piece of cornbread. Getting a spoon, he carried the bowl with him and stepped over to squat down beside Winnie.
“Boy, you been listenin’ to what we was talkin’ about?” he asked, as he took a spoonful of the beans.
“No, sir, I’m sorry, I wasn’t listening. Should I have been? I’m too frightened. I suppose I have just been wondering what was going to happen to me.”
“Nothin’ is going to happen to you if ever’one does what they are supposed to do,” Logan said. He broke off a piece of cornbread and dropped it in his bowl, then scooped it up along with some beans. “Uhhmm. These beans ain’t bad. Clayton used to cook for a big ranch, now he cooks for us, and he makes a lot more now than he used to.” Logan turned to call toward Clayton. “That’s right, ain’t it Clayton? You’re makin’ a lot more now than you used to?”
“A lot more,” Clayton said.
“You hungry? You want somethin’ to eat?”
“No, sir,” Winnie said. “I had a rather good lunch before your three men came to get me. Besides, I am too frightened to eat, now.”
“You’re scared, huh?”
“Yes, sir, very much.”
“Well, I’ve got to hand it to you, kid. You ain’t showin’ it much.”
“I have been taught to keep a stiff upper lip.”
“A stiff upper lip?” Logan said. He chuckled and ran his finger across his mustache. “What does that mean? I’ve never heard that used before.”
“It is a British idiom,” Winnie explained. “It means to remain undaunted in the face of danger and adversity. It is best expressed in a poem by Alfred, Lord Tennyson. Would you like to hear it?”
“Yeah, let me hear it.”
Winnie began to say the poem as if presenting it in a class of declamation.
“‘Forward, the Light Brigade!’
Was there a man dismay’d?
Not tho’ the soldier knew
Some one had blunder’d:
Theirs not to make reply,
Theirs not to reason why,
Theirs but to do and die,
Into the valley of Death
Rode the six hundred.”
“What is that about? What do you mean, the ‘valley of death’?”
“It refers to a regiment of British cavalry led by Lord Cardigan against the Russians during the Crimean War. There were six hundred who started the charge, and nearly half of them were killed,” Winnie said.
“I’ll be damned,” Logan said. “And you think that was good, do you?”
“I do not think it is good that so many were killed,” Winnie said. “But I think the fact that they showed honor, courage, and kept a stiff upper lip is to be admired.”
“And I think they were crazy. If I had been there, you had better believe that I wouldn’t have done anything so crazy.”
“What would you have done?”
“I would have run away,” Logan said.
“You would do so at the expense of your honor?” Winnie asked.
“Ha! Honor? Kid, I’m a rustler and a murderer. To me, the only honor is in staying alive.”
“I see.”
“The only place there is honor is in poems and stories and such,” Logan continued. “Honor ain’t nothin’ real.”
“Oh, but I believe it is, sir,” Winnie said.
“Do you know anyone with honor?”
“Oh, indeed I do, sir. Mr. Jensen is a man of honor and courage.”
Logan chuckled. “Well, we will see just how much honor and courage Jensen has, won’t we? Do you think he will try to rescue you?”
Winnie gasped. “That’s why you are holding me here, isn’t it? You are using me as bait.”
“You’re a smart kid, ain’t you? But don’t worry. Once we draw him into the trap, we’ll let you go.”
Logan left Winnie and went back to talk to the others.
“Jensen will show up at the point tomorrow at ten o’clock. Only we are going to be there by nine—no, make it eight.”
“Hell, that’s two hours early,” Poindexter said. “Why do we need to be there so early?”
“In case he gets anxious and comes early, I want us to already be there,” Logan said.
No one came to talk to Winnie for the rest of the day. He stayed over in the corner next to the fireplace and listened carefully to their conversation to see if there was anything he could learn that might be used to his advantage. He studied the layout of the shack in order to try and determine a way of escaping. There were only two windows high on the walls at each end, one over a double bunk bed, the other over the stove. The only other way out was the single door in the front of the building.
That night Winnie accepted the offer of a bowl of cold beans.
“Now, boy, let me tell you how this is going to work,” Logan said. “One of us is going to be awake all night long. We’ll be keeping an eye on you, so don’t get any idea about tryin’ to escape, because it ain’t goin’ to happen. You understand that?”
“Yes, sir,” Winnie replied.
When it got dark enough, the men lit a lantern and set it on the table so they could see to play cards. Winnie stretched out on the floor and went to sleep.
He had no idea how long he had been asleep when he woke up. It was still dark and the lantern, though still burning, had been turned down very low so that the room, though illuminated, was barely so. The air was rent with the snoring of the sleeping men, and Winnie sat up to have a look around.
Perhaps this was his opportunity to escape!
Getting on his feet as quietly as he could, he started toward the door. That was when he saw someone sitting in a chair right beside the door.
Winnie’s spirits fell when he saw that; then he remembered that Logan had told him that he was going to keep someone awake all night long so they could keep an eye on him. Winnie recognized him. It was Clayton, the cook.