Chapter VIII

46

STRANGE FISH

The Indian looked relieved.

“Frosty send you?”

“Yes.”

“Okay. The lease shack is over this way.”

It was over another hill, a battered looking old building beside a road that was a string of ruts. The Indian didn't go all the way with them. He went back toward the rig, apparently to resume watching.

MONK didn't exactly whistle when he saw Paris Stevens. But his mouth got into the shape, as if it wanted to.

And Ham whispered viciously, “You missing link! You knew she was a dish when you grabbed the job of investigating her.”

Paris Stevens was plainly glad to see them. But she was embarrassed. She didn't know what to say, so what she said was conventional. She was glad to see them. She was Paris Stevens and this was her foreman, Johnny Toms.

“How,” said Johnny Toms.

That was about all Johnny Toms said for the moment.

But Monk and Ham took a dislike to him anyway. Their feelings were not based on any doubts about Johnny Toms' character. They were just irritated and jealous because the fellow had such a pretty girl with him.

Paris Stevens said, “Won't you come inside. I think we had better. We might be seen standing around outside.”

The inside of the lease shack was about what they expected it to be. Nothing much. Places like these were inhabitated by the oil field worker called a lease louse or a lease monkey. His job was to tend the pumps, make minor repairs, and generally keep an eye on things. It was employment which, for monotony, ran a close second to sheep−herding.

With the five of them in it, the shack seemed crowded. There was a fire in the iron stove, in spite of the heat outdoors. A coffee pot bubbled on the stove.

Paris Stevens glanced at Johnny Toms. “You want to tell them the story, Johnny?”

“You tell,” Johnny Toms said.

Monk glanced at Johnny Toms, wondering just what kind of a clown he was, anyway.

Paris began talking. She told them about finding a mysterious fat man trailing her in New York, become scared, and coming to Oklahoma, where she found the fat man on hand immediately. She told how they had discovered the fat man was camping on Sugar Creek, how they had gone to investigate, and found the dying man named Porter. She described how Johnny Toms had been framed for killing Porter. About the knife which belonged to Toms, and the custom−made gloves which could be traced to him.