The Complete Western Stories of Elmore Leonard - Elmore Leonard [57]
“Hell, Lew. Nobody’s going to find us way up here,” Rondo argued half-heartedly.
Patman looked at him surprised. “Cima Quaine’s blood-dogs could track a man all the way to China.”
“Aw, San Carlos’s a hundred miles away. Ain’t nobody going to track us that far, not even ’Pache Police.”
De Sana said, “I’m not telling you again, Rondo.” Rondo glanced at the hand on the pistol butt and moved out of the doorway.
But as he walked through the pines toward the canyon edge, he held the canteen up to his face and shook it a few times. He could hear the whiskey inside sloshing around sounding as if it were still a good one-third full. Rondo smiled and his mind erased the scowling yellow face. Lew De Sana could go take a whistlin’ dive at the moon for all he cared.
THE GIRL’S FINGERS were crooked through the handles of the three enamel cups, and she kept her eyes lowered to the table as she set the coffeepot down with her other hand, placing the cups next to it.
“Looks good,” Patman said.
She said nothing, but her eyes lifted to him briefly, then darted to the opposite side of the table where Fallis stood and then lowered just as quickly. She had turned her head slightly, enough for Fallis to see the bruise on her cheekbone. A deep blue beneath her eye that spread into a yellowish caste in the soft hollow of her cheek. There was a lifelessness in the dark eyes and perhaps fear. Fallis kept staring at the girl, seeing the utter resignation that showed in her face and was there even in the way she moved her small body. Like a person who has given up and doesn’t much care what happens next. He noticed the eyes when her glance wandered to him again, dark and tired, yet with a certain hungriness in their deepness. No, it wasn’t fear.
De Sana picked up the first cup as she filled it and poured a heavy shot from the bottle into it. He set the bottle down and lifted the coffee cup to his mouth. His lips moved, as if tasting, and he said, “It’s cold,” looking at the girl in a way that didn’t need the support of other words. He turned the cup upside down and poured the dark liquid on the floor.
Fallis thought, What a damn fool. Who’s he trying to impress? He glanced at Patman but the ex-corporal was looking at De Sana as if pouring coffee on the floor was the most normal thing in the world.
As the girl picked up the big coffeepot, her hand shook with the weight and before her other hand could close on the spout, she dropped it back on the table.
“Here, I’ll give you a hand,” Fallis offered. “That’s a big jug.”
But just as he took it from the girl’s hands, he heard De Sana say, “Leave that pot alone!”
He looked at De Sana in bewilderment. “What? I just want to help her out with the coffeepot.”
“She can do her own chores.” De Sana’s voice was unhurried. “Just put it down.”
Dave Fallis felt heat rise up over his face. When he was angry, he always wondered if it showed. And sometimes, as, for instance, now, he didn’t care. His heart started going faster with the rise of the heat that tingled the hair on the back of his head and made the words come to his mouth. And he had to spit the words out hard because it would make him feel better.
“Who the hell are you talking to? Do I look like somebody you can give orders to?” Fallis stopped but kept on looking at the thin, sallow face, wishing he could think of something good to say while the anger was up.
Patman moved closer to the younger man. “Slow down, Dave,” he said with a laugh that sounded forced. “A man’s got a right to run things like he wants in his own house.”
De Sana’s eyes moved from one to the other, then back to the girl and said, “What are you waiting for?” He kept his eyes on her until she passed through the doorway. Then he said, “Mister, you better have a talk with your boy.”
Fallis heard Patman say,