The Complete Western Stories of Elmore Leonard - Elmore Leonard [160]
Willard Mims said, “I can see him myself and tell him.”
“You will,” Frank Usher said, “but not how you think. You’re going to stop on the main road one mile before you get to Bisbee and give that envelope to somebody passing in. The note tells Gateway you have something to tell him about his daughter and to come alone. When he goes out, you’ll tell him the story. If he says no, then he never sees his daughter again. If he says yes, he’s to bring fifty thousand in U.S. scrip divided in three saddlebags, to a place up back of the Sasabe. And he brings it alone.”
Mims said, “What if there isn’t that much cash on hand?”
“That’s his problem.”
“Well, why can’t I go right to his house and tell him?”
“Because Billy-Jack’s going to be along to bring you back after you tell him. And I don’t want him someplace he can get cornered.”
“Oh….”
“That’s whether he says yes or no,” Frank Usher added.
Mims was silent for a moment. “But how’ll Mr. Gateway know where to come?”
“If he agrees, Billy-Jack’ll give him directions.”
Mims said, “Then when he comes out you’ll let us go? Is that it?”
“That’s it.”
“When do we leave?”
“Right this minute.”
“Can I say good-bye to my wife?”
“We’ll do it for you.”
Brennan watched Billy-Jack come around from the corral, leading two horses. Willard Mims moved toward one of them and they both mounted. Billy-Jack reined his horse suddenly, crowding Mims to turn with him, then slapped Mims’s horse on the rump and spurred after it as the horse broke to a run.
Watching them, his eyes half closed, Frank Usher said, “That boy puts his wife up on the stake and then he wants to kiss her good-bye.” He glanced at Brennan. “You figure that one for me.”
Brennan shook his head. “What I’d like to know is why you only asked for fifty thousand.”
Frank Usher shrugged. “I’m not greedy.”
Chapter Three
CHINK TURNED AS the two horses splashed over the creek and grew gradually smaller down the road. He looked at Brennan and then his eyes went to Frank Usher. “We don’t have a need for this one, Frank.”
Usher’s dull eyes flicked toward him. “You bring around the horses and I’ll worry about him.”
“We might as well do it now as later,” Chink said.
“We’re taking him with us.”
“What for?”
“Because I say so. That reason enough?”
“Frank, we could run him for the well and both take a crack at him.”
“Get the horses,” Frank Usher said flatly, and stared at Chink until the gunman turned and walked away.
Brennan said, “I’d like to bury this man before we go.”
Usher shook his head. “Put him in the well.”
“That’s no fit place!”
Usher stared at Brennan for a long moment. “Don’t push your luck. He goes in the well, whether you do it or Chink does.”
Brennan pulled Rintoon’s limp body up over his shoulder and carried him across the yard. When he returned, Chink was coming around the adobe with three horses already saddled. Frank Usher stood near the house and now Doretta Mims appeared in the doorway.
Usher looked at her. “You’ll have to fork one of these like the rest of us. There ain’t no lady’s saddle about.”
She came out, neither answering nor looking at him.
Usher called to Brennan, “Cut one out of that team and shoot the rest,” nodding to the stagecoach.
Minutes later the Sasabe station was deserted.
They followed the creek west for almost an hour before swinging south toward high country. Leaving the creek, Brennan had thought: Five more miles and I’m home. And his eyes hung on the long shallow cup of the Sasabe valley until they entered a trough that climbed winding ahead of them through the hills, and the valley was no longer in view.
Frank Usher led them single file—Doretta Mims, followed by Brennan, and Chink bringing up the rear. Chink rode slouched, swaying with the movement of his dun mare, chewing idly on the drawstring of his hat, and watching Brennan.
Brennan kept his eyes on the woman much of the time. For