The frightening thing was how quickly he had become normal and easy and—like himself. “I might say I would, Eth. But you don’t know drunks. I’d take the money and drink it up.”
“Well, suppose I paid it right to the hospital, or wherever.”
“I’m trying to tell you. I’d go with the best intentions, and in a few days I’d get out. You can’t trust a drunk, Eth. That’s what you can’t understand. No matter what I did or said—I’d still get out.”
“Don’t you want to come out of it, Danny?”
“I guess I don’t. I guess you know what I want.” He hoisted the bottle again, and again I was astonished at the speed of the reaction. Not only did he become the old Danny I knew but his senses and perceptions were sharpened, so clear in fact that he read my thought. “Don’t trust it,” he said. “It’s only for a little time. Alcohol stimulates and then depresses. I hope you won’t stay around to see that. Right now, I don’t believe it will happen. I never do when I’m up.” Then his eyes, wet and shining in the candlelight, looked into me. “Ethan,” he said. “You offered to pay for a cure for me. You haven’t the money, Ethan.”
“I could get it. Mary inherited some from her brother.”
“And you would give me that?”
“Yes.”
“Even though I tell you never to trust a drunk? Even if I assure you I would take your money and break your heart?”
“You’re breaking my heart now, Danny. I had a dream about you. We were out at the old place—remember?”
He raised the bottle and then put it down, saying, “No, not yet—not yet. Eth—never—never trust a drunk. When he—when I’m—horrible—a dead thing—there’s still a clever, secret mind at work, and it’s not a friendly mind. Right now, right at this moment, I’m a man who was your friend. I lied to you about passing out. Oh, I passed out all right, but I know about the bottle.”
“Wait,” I said, “before you go any further, else it will look—well, you might suspect me. It was Baker brought the bottle, wasn’t it?”
“Yes.”
“He wanted you to sign something.”
“Yes, but I passed out.” He chuckled to himself and again lifted the bottle to his lips, but in the candlelight I saw the smallest bubble. He had taken only a drop.
“That’s one of the things I wanted to tell you, Danny. Was it the old place he wanted?”
“Yes.”
“How does it happen you haven’t sold it?”
“I thought I told you. It makes me a gentleman, lacking only the conduct of a gentleman.”
“Don’t sell it, Danny. Hold onto it.”
“What’s it to you? Why not?”
“For your pride.”
“I don’t have any pride left, only position.”
“Yes, you have. When you asked me for money, you were ashamed. That means pride.”
“No, I told you. That was a trick. Drunks are clever, I tell you. It embarrassed you, and you gave me a buck because you thought I was ashamed. I wasn’t ashamed. I just wanted a drink.”
“Don’t sell it, Danny. It’s valuable. Baker knows it. He doesn’t buy anything without value.”
“What’s valuable about it?”
“It’s the only place nearby level enough for an airfield.”
“I see.”
“If you’ll hold out, it can be a whole new start for you, Danny. Hold onto it. You could take the cure and when you came out you’d have a nest egg.”
“But no nest. Maybe I’d rather sell it and drink it up and—‘When the bough breaks the cradle will fall, and down will come baby, cradle and all.’” He sang shrilly and laughed. “Do you want the place, Eth? Is that why you came here?”
“I want you to be well.”
“I am well.”
“I want to explain, Danny. If you were a bum, you could be free to do whatever you want. But you have something a group of forward-looking citizens want and need.”
“Taylor Meadow. And I’m going to hold onto it. I’m forward-looking too.” He glanced affectionately at the bottle.
“Danny, I told you, it’s the only place for an airport. It’s a key place. They have to have it—either that or level the hills, and they can’t afford that.”
“Then I have them by the ying-yang and I’m going to twist.”
“You’ve forgotten, Danny. A man of property is a precious vessel. Already I’ve heard that the kindest thing would be to put you in an institution where you would get the care you need.”
“They wouldn’t dare.”
“Oh, yes they would—and feel virtuous about it. You know the process. The judge, you know him, would rule you incompetent to handle property. He would appoint a guardian, and I can guess which one. And all this would be expensive, so of course your property would have to be sold to pay the costs, and guess who would be there to buy it.”
His eyes were shiny and he listened with his mouth parted. Now he looked away.
“You’re trying to scare me, Eth. You picked the wrong time. Catch me in the morning when I’m cold and the world is green vomit. Right now—my strength it is the strength of ten because the bottle’s here.” He waved it like a sword and his eyes went to slits gleaming in the candlelight. “Did I tell you, Eth? I think I did—a drunk has a special evil kind of intelligence.”
“But I’ve told you what will happen.”
“I agree with you. I know it’s true. You’ve made your point. But instead of scaring me, you’ve roused my imp. Whoever thinks a drunk is helpless is crazy. A drunk is a very special vehicle with special abilities. I can fight back, and right now I seem to want to.”
“Good boy! That’s what I want to hear.”
He sighted at me over the neck of the whisky bottle as though it were the bead on the end of a rifle. “You’d loan me Mary’s money?”
“Yes.”
“Without security?”
“Yes.”
“Knowing the chance of getting it back is a thousand to one against?”
“Yes.”
“There’s an ugly thing in a drunk, Eth. I don’t believe you.” He licked his dry lips. “Would you put the money in my hands?”
“Whenever you say.”
“I’ve told you not to.”
“But I will.”
This time he tipped the bottle back and the big bubble rose inside the glass. When he stopped drinking, his eyes were even shinier but they were cold and impersonal as a snake’s eyes. “Can you get the money this week, Eth?”
“Yes.”
“Wednesday?”
“Yes.”
“Have you got a couple of bucks now?”
I had just that—a dollar bill, a half, a quarter, two dimes and a nickel, and three pennies. I poured them into his outstretched hand.
He finished the bottle and dropped it on the floor. “Somehow I never put you down for clever, Eth. Do you know even a basic cure would cost about a thousand dollars?”
“All right.”
“This is fun, Eth. This isn’t chess, it’s poker. I used to be pretty good at poker—too good. You’re betting I’ll put up my meadow as collateral. And you’re betting that a thousand dollars’ worth of booze will kill me, and there you’ll be with an airport in your lap.”
“That’s a nasty thing, Danny.”
“I warned you I was nasty.”
“Couldn’t you think I meant it the way I said it?”
“No. But I’ve got a way to—keep it the way you said it. You remember me in the old days, Eth. Do you think I don’t remember you? You’re the kid with the built-in judge. Okay. I’m getting dry. The bottle’s empty. I’m going out. My price is one thousand bucks.”
“All right.”
“In cash on Wednesday.”
“I’ll bring it.”
“No note, no signature, no nothing. And don’t think you remember me, Ethan, from the old days. My friend here has changed all that. I have no loyalty, no fairness. What you’ll get is nothing but hearty laughter.”