CHAPTER SIX

Joe’s Story

Mr. Henderson was waiting for them on the porch of their cabin when they arrived. “You can rest easy,” he called when he saw their worried faces. “He’s not hurt bad.”

Mr. Cook leaped up the steps two at a time. “What happened?” he demanded.

Mr. Henderson shrugged. “Can’t tell for sure. All we know is he got himself a whack on the head an’ fell in the river.”

“Was he knocked out?”

“Colder’n a mackerel.”

“Then he could have drowned!” cried Sandy.

Mr. Henderson peered over at Sandy. “More’n likely,” he agreed.

“Who fished him out?” Mr. Cook wanted to know.

Mr. Henderson rubbed his jaw reflectively. “Now there was a lucky thing,” he said. “’Bout four o’clock I told Luke—that’s my hired man—to go down and check the calking on your boats. Seein’ as how they ain’t been in the water since last summer, I figured ’twould be a good idea to have a look at ’em. Well,” he continued, refusing to be hurried, “Luke gets down to the place where I keep the boats and all of a sudden he hears a kind of a yell and a splash. Being curious like, Luke decides to have a look-see at what fell in. So he saunters on down to the river and spots three fellers actin’ funny. They see him comin’ and start off the other way. Luke hollers but they keep right on goin’. Injuns, he thinks they were. Course, Luke’s gettin’ a bit old and his eyesight ain’t what it used to be, so it might not be Injuns after all. You never can tell about them things. I recollect once—it was in the summer of—”

“But what about Joe?” insisted Sandy impatiently.

Mr. Henderson shot him a reproachful glance. “I was just getting ’round to that. Seein’ them Injuns, or whatever it was, made Luke move a little faster and he gets down to the river just in time to see old Joe a-floating away.”

“He was on top of the water?” Sandy asked.

“Well, no, not exactly,” Mr. Henderson admitted. “He was about three, mebbe four feet down. But the current was carryin’ him along right smart, y’see.”

“What did Luke do?”

“He hightails it over to another dock further downstream, grabs a boat and, when Joe comes by, he fishes him out. That’s about all.”

“Do you think those Indians, or whatever they were, had anything to do with it?” Mr. Cook asked anxiously.

“Hard to say. Best ask Joe.”

Mr. Cook moved to the door. “Let’s do it now.”

Mr. Henderson held out a hand. “Doc’s in there with him. He said to keep everybody out till he’s through.”

“It’s all right,” came a voice from inside the house. “Come on in.”

The doctor had just finished and was buttoning his jacket as Mr. Cook led the way through the front door. “Is he out of danger, Doctor?” Mr. Cook asked.

“Yes, indeed,” said the doctor, reaching for his medical bag. “He’s got a nasty bump on the back of his head, but nothing serious. There’s no concussion. He may be a little sick at his stomach from all the water he swallowed, but that’ll pass. The only thing he needs right now is a little broth and a good night’s sleep.”

“He’ll get both,” Mr. Henderson promised.

“Good.” The doctor moved to the door and turned. “You know,” he said, “Joe’s a mighty lucky man. If Luke had been a few minutes later, he’d be finished.” He shrugged and pushed his way out. “As it is, I expect he’ll be up and around by tomorrow. Goodbye. Let me know if he becomes delirious or suddenly starts to run a fever.”

“We will,” Mr. Cook assured him. “Goodbye, Doctor, and thanks a lot.”

“Right.” The doctor smiled around the room and stepped out of the cabin.

“Well,” Mr. Cook said, after the doctor had gone. “I think we better ask Joe a few questions. Where is he?”

“He’s in this room right here.” Mr. Henderson walked over to a door and knocked gently. “Joe!” he called. “You’ve got company.”

“Come in!” answered a voice.

Joe was sitting up in bed, wearing a red flannel nightshirt that belonged to Mr. Henderson. With the white bandage wrapped around his head he looked even more like an Indian than he had earlier that afternoon. He smiled in welcome as he caught sight of the Cooks and Sandy. “Boy!” he said. “Am I glad to see you again! Did you get those guns sighted in?”

Mr. Cook moved to the foot of the bed. “We had just finished when we heard the news. What happened, Joe?”

The Indian made an impatient gesture with one hand. “Foolish accident. I was lining the boxes up along the dock when I thought I heard somebody call my name. I looked up and turned around. Well, I guess I must have lost my footing, because the next thing I knew I was falling in the water. Then, all of a sudden, I felt this bang on my head and all the lights went out. Cracked right into a piling, I guess.” He grinned up at them. “Things like that happen sometimes. You can’t do much about it.”

“What about those Indians, Joe?” Mr. Cook asked quietly.

Joe’s eyes narrowed and Sandy thought he saw him grow pale. “What Indians?” he said sharply.

“Luke said he thought he saw some Indians right near the place where you fell. He said they were coming away from the river after you went in.” Mr. Cook laid a slight but significant stress on the word “after.”

Joe tried to dismiss the Indians with a shrug. “If they were there, I didn’t see them.”

“Luke yelled out,” Mr. Cook continued, “but they didn’t stop.”

“Why should they?”

“Wouldn’t you stop if somebody called?”

“That depends on who it was. Maybe they didn’t hear him.” He looked at Mr. Cook with an unfriendly stare. “I don’t get it,” he said resentfully. “What are you trying to prove?”

There was a pause as Mr. Cook dragged over a chair and sat down beside the bed. “Look, Joe,” he said, “take it easy. I’m not trying to prove a thing. It’s just that there are a couple of things that are bothering us.” Joe waited unsmilingly for Mr. Cook to go on. “Earlier today, you mentioned some Crow Indians you didn’t seem to like very much. Next, you can’t wait to get started on the trip to Mormon Crossing. And finally, you almost get killed.”

Joe looked thoughtfully down at the sheet. “And you think that all adds up to something?” he asked.

“That’s what I’m trying to find out. Is anybody after you, Joe? It looks a little like it.”

Joe leaned back with a smile. “I have to admit it looks funny,” he conceded with a chuckle. “But I’m afraid you’ve been reading too many mystery stories. Now,” he said, settling back comfortably, “let’s start from the beginning. About those three Crows—it’s perfectly true I don’t get along with them. But it wasn’t serious enough to lead to any bloodshed. Besides, as far as I know, they’re still in Montana. It’s also true that I’m eager to get going. I gave you my reasons this afternoon and they still hold. Why waste time here when we can be on the river? Finally, the accident.” He shook his head in bewilderment. “I don’t know how to explain that, except to say that it was exactly that—an accident. The Indians Luke saw were just a coincidence. I don’t have the slightest idea of why they were there.” Joe looked around the room and smiled disarmingly. “Sorry I can’t give you a more dramatic story, but that’s the truth. Okay?”

Mr. Cook stood up and moved the chair back against the wall. “All right, Joe,” he said quietly. “No cross-examination.”

The Indian seemed relieved. “Good,” he said. “Now what time do you want to start tomorrow?”

Mr. Cook stared at Joe in astonishment. “But great Scott, Joe! You’re in no shape to travel!”

“You heard what the doctor said.”

“He said you’d be up and around by tomorrow, but he didn’t mean for you to start downriver.”

“It’s better than lying around here. Besides, a little exercise will get my strength back a lot faster than a week in bed.”

“Well,” Mr. Cook said as he turned to go out the door, “let’s see how you feel in the morning.”

“I’ll make you a sporting proposition,” Joe called. “If I say I’m ready, will you leave?”

“All right,” Mr. Cook agreed after a pause. “But don’t push yourself too hard.”

“Don’t worry,” Joe said, grinning. “And say,” he shouted as Mr. Cook was closing the door, “better get to bed early tonight. I plan to be up at five-thirty.”

Mr. Cook nodded and pulled the door shut. The four of them trooped back out onto the porch. “Well?” demanded Mr. Cook as he looked at each of them in turn. “What do you think?”

“I don’t know,” Sandy muttered. “It sounds all right, but....”

“Exactly,” Mr. Cook agreed. “His story has too many holes as far as I’m concerned.”

“But why should he lie?” Mike objected. “If he’s in trouble, why doesn’t he tell us? Maybe we could help.”

“What struck you as the fishiest part of his story?” Mr. Cook asked Sandy.

“The accident on the dock” came the prompt reply.

“It could have happened just that way,” Mr. Henderson volunteered. “There’s more’n a couple of rotten boards on that dock. He could’ve caught himself easy and pitched over.”

Sandy refused to be convinced. “I doubt it,” he said. “Ever notice how Joe moves? He’s as graceful as a cat.”

“You’re right,” Mr. Henderson admitted. “But I just can’t bring myself to call Joe a liar. I’ve known him a long time.”

“What do you think of him?” Mr. Cook demanded.

“As a guide or as a man?”

“Both.”

“As a man I’ve never known him to do a dishonest thing. And as a guide, I’ve never known him to do a foolish one. I’d trust Joe anywhere.”

“So would I,” Mr. Cook agreed. “That’s what makes it so funny. I like him and I trust him and yet....” He shook his head helplessly. “There’s something he’s not telling us.”

“Want me to try to find another guide for you?” Mr. Henderson asked.

Mr. Cook turned to Mike and Sandy. “What do you think, boys?”

“Maybe he is mixed up in something, but I still vote we stick with him,” Mike declared.

Sandy nodded his head. “I’ll go along with that.”

“All right,” Mr. Cook said decisively. “That’s decided. We’ll leave as soon as Joe’s ready.”

“Better do what he said,” Mr. Henderson advised, “and set your alarm clocks for five-thirty.”

“You think he’ll be ready then?”

Mr. Henderson nodded. “He’s a pretty tough customer, is old Joe. When he makes up his mind to do a thing—well, it gets done.”

Mr. Cook grinned and threw up his hands in defeat. “Okay. I’m convinced.” He turned and started back into the cabin. “Let’s get going,” he said. “We’ve got some packing to do if we’re leaving for Mormon Crossing in the morning.”