The Complete Western Stories of Elmore Leonard - Elmore Leonard [165]
“Mrs. Mims, try and rest now.”
She shook her head wearily. “I don’t care what happens to me.”
There was a silence before Brennan said, “When you get done feeling sorry for yourself I’ll tell you something.”
Her eyes came open and she looked at him, more surprised than hurt.
“Look,” Brennan said. “You know it and I know it—your husband married you for your money; but you’re alive and he’s dead and that makes the difference. You can moon about being a fool till they shoot you tomorrow, or you can start thinking about saving your skin right now. But I’ll tell you this—it will take both of us working together to stay alive.”
“But he said he’d let us—”
“You think they’re going to let us go after your dad brings the money? They’ve killed four people in less than twenty-four hours!”
“I don’t care what happens to me!”
He took her shoulders and turned her toward him. “Well, I care about me, and I’m not going to get shot in the belly tomorrow because you feel sorry for yourself.”
“But I can’t help!” Doretta pleaded.
“You don’t know if you can or not. We’ve got to keep our eyes open and we’ve got to think, and when the chance comes we’ve got to take it quick or else forget about it.” His face was close to hers and he was still gripping her shoulders. “These men will kill. They’ve done it before and they have nothing to lose. They’re going to kill us. That means we’ve got nothing to lose. Now, you think about that a while.”
He left her and went back to the door.
Brennan was called out of the hut later in the afternoon, as Usher and Billy-Jack rode in. They had shot a mule deer and Billy-Jack carried a hindquarter dangling from his saddle horn. Brennan was told to dress it down, enough for supper, and the rest to be stripped and hung up to dry.
“But you take care of the supper first,” Frank Usher said, adding that the woman wasn’t in fit condition for cooking. “I don’t want burned meat just ’cause she’s in a state over her husband.”
After they had eaten, Brennan took meat and coffee in to Doretta Mims.
She looked up as he offered it to her. “I don’t care for anything.”
He was momentarily angry, but it passed off and he said, “Suit yourself.” He placed the cup and plate on the floor and went outside to finish preparing the jerky.
By the time he finished, dusk had settled over the clearing and the inside of the hut was dark as he stepped inside.
He moved to her side and his foot kicked over the tin cup. He stooped quickly, picking up the cup and plate, and even in the dimness he could see that she had eaten most of the food.
“Mr. Brennan, I’m sorry for the way I’ve acted.” She hesitated. “I thought you would understand, else I’d never have told you about— about how I felt.”
“It’s not a question of my understanding,” Brennan said.
“I’m sorry I told you,” Doretta Mims said.
He moved closer to her and knelt down, sitting back on his heels. “Look. Maybe I know how you feel, better than you think. But that’s not important. Right now you don’t need sympathy as much as you need a way to stay alive.”
“I can’t help the way I feel,” she said obstinately.
Brennan was momentarily silent. He said then, “Did you love him?”
“I was married to him!”
“That’s not what I asked you. While everybody’s being honest, just tell me if you loved him.”
She hesitated, looking down at her hands. “I’m not sure.”
“But you wanted to be in love with him, more than anything.”
Her head nodded slowly. “Yes.”
“Did you ever think for a minute that he loved you?”
“That’s not a fair question!”
“Answer it anyway!”
She hesitated again. “No, I didn’t.”
He said, almost brutally, “Then what have you lost outside of a little pride?”
“You don’t understand,” she said.
“You’re afraid you can’t get another man—is that what it is? Even if he married you for money, at least he married