Zeke and Ned by Larry McMurtry

there soon proved to be a curb on Sheriff Charley Bobtail’s freedom, too. Zeke was a demanding prisoner if there ever was one. Miscreants and felons rarely spent more than a few hours in the Tahlequah jail. Once they sobered up and submitted themselves to Judge Sixkiller in a spirit of humility, the Judge usually let them go, though not without levying a hefty fine.
    Throughout the first night and most of the second day, there was general apprehension within the jail. Everybody expected the white marshals to show up and attempt to take Zeke back to Fort Smith. Sheriff Bobtail had strict instructions from the Judge, and the instructions were not to let the marshals have Zeke. Ned Christie stayed the night, sleeping in the Cherokee Senate meeting hall. He missed his young wife Jewel—he dreamed of her soft eyes, and sweet breath— but he felt he ought to stay with Zeke at least one day. After all, he was a senator; perhaps the white marshals would listen to him if they showed up. Most of them had little interest in carting prisoners from one place to another, and Judge Parker was not popular with them because he paid the smallest fee possible for their services and permitted no extravagance. Their real hope in taking assignments to Tahlequah was to catch a whiskeyseller and collect the handsome reward. Two whiskeysellers, if apprehended and convicted, would yield enough reward money to enable a marshal to retire.
    When the second day came and went with no marshals, Ned decided the crisis had passed and prepared to go back to his wife. Zeke was annoyed with the whole arrangement. He did not want to be in jail, but if he had to be, he wanted Ned to go and bring him his dog, Pete, for company.
    â€œPete might still be in that springhouse. If he is, I guess he’s living on bugs,” Zeke said. He and Ned had been throwing dice all day, to no purpose. Neither of them had any money.
    â€œI imagine Becca let him out,” Ned said, keeping his eyes on the dice. He wanted to go home and lay with his wife. He did not want to go all the way to Zeke’s place, just to let a dog out of a springhouse.
    â€œHe could be a hundred miles away by now,” Sheriff Bobtail said.
    â€œPete? Why would he be a hundred miles away?” Zeke asked, with some indignation. What right did Charley Bobtail have to be making such comments about his dog?
    Sheriff Bobtail declined to follow up on his remark. He had meant to go coon hunting that evening, and was annoyed at having to stay in Tahlequah just to hear Zeke Proctor complain. It occurred to him that he might deputize Ned Christie for a few hours, just long enough to get in a good coon hunt. Ned looked restless, though; he might not tolerate being deputized. It was a vexing situation for all concerned and was made more vexing a minute later, when the wild renegade Davie Beck came stomping into the jail.
    Davie took little care with his appearance. His shirt was liberally stained with tobacco drippings, and his pants were muddy. He had a long-barreled pistol stuck in his belt.
    â€œI ought to shoot all you fools, and I
will
shoot
you,
you goddamn killer!” he said, glowering at Zeke. “I’ve taken a solemn vow to avenge Polly, and I’d just as soon do it now.”
    â€œI guess you would, since I’m in jail and unarmed,” Zeke said. “I suggest you come to my house day after tomorrow, and we’ll have at it.”
    â€œNow, Dave,” Sheriff Bobtail said. “Zeke’s in my custody—don’t you be threatening him.” Unfortunately, the Sheriff was not possessed of a weapon just at the moment. He did not like wearing his pistol, because it interfered with his posture, and he had left his rifle out by the woodpile.
    â€œShut up, Charley, you ain’t even armed,” Davie retorted. “I would rather not kill no sheriff, but I will, if I’m interfered with.”
    Ned Christie stood up and sidled between