• Choose a category
• All
• Classic-Fiction

“I saw his eyes open and close twice!” he whispered excitedly.

The scout hunkered down beside him and wrinkled his buckskin face into a smile. It was an ageless face, cold in its dark, crooked lines and almost cruel, but the smile was plain in the eyes. He was bare- headed, and his dark hair glistened flat on his skull in the lantern light that flickered close behind him on the table.

“You’d have to tie rocks to him and drop him in a well to kill Virgil,” he said. “And then you’d never be sure.” He glanced at the boy to see the effect of his words and then back to Patman. The eyes were open now, and Patman was grinning at him.

“Don’t be too sure,” he said weakly. His eyes went to Fallis who looked as if he wanted to say something, but was afraid to let it come out. He smiled back at the boy watching the relief spread over his face and saw him bite at his lower lip. “Did you get him?”

Fallis shook his head, but Quaine said, “Vea Oiga was crawling up to take the horses when De Sana ran into the corral and took one without even waiting to saddle. He shot at him, but didn’t get him.” He twisted his head and looked up at one of the Apaches standing behind him. “When we get home, you’re going to spend your next two months’ pay on practice shells.”

Vea Oiga dropped his head and looked suddenly ashamed and ridiculous with the vermilion sergeant stripes painted on his naked arms. He shuffled through the doorway without looking up at the girl who stepped inside quickly to let him pass.

She stood near the cupboard not knowing what to do with her hands, watching Dave Fallis. One of the half-dozen Coyotero scouts in the room moved near her idly, and she shrank closer to the wall nervously picking at the frayed collar of her dress. She looked about the room wide-eyed for a moment, then stepped around the Apache hurriedly and out through the doorway. She moved toward the lean-to, but held up when she saw the three Apaches inside laughing and picking at the strips of venison that were hanging from the roof to dry. After a while, Fallis got up stretching the stiffness from his legs and walked to the door. He stood there looking out, but seeing just the darkness.

Cima Quaine bent closer to Patman’s drawn face. The ex-trooper’s eyes were open, but his face was tight with pain. The hole in his side had started to bleed again. Patman knew it was only a matter of time, but he tried not to show the pain when the contract scout lowered close to him. He heard the scout say, “Your partner’s kind of nervous,” and for a moment it sounded far away.

Patman answered, “He’s young,” but knew that didn’t explain anything to the other man.

“He’s anxious to get on after the man,” Quaine went on. “How you feel having an avenging angel?” Then added quickly, “Hell, in another day or two you’ll be avenging yourself.”

“It’s not for me,” Patman whispered, and hesitated. “It’s for himself, and the girl.”

Quaine was surprised, but kept his voice down. “The girl? He hasn’t even looked at her since we got here.”

“And he won’t,” Patman said. “Until he gets him.” He saw the other man’s frown and added, “It’s a long story, all about pride and getting your toes stepped on.” He grinned to himself at the faint sign of bewilderment on the scout’s face. Nobody’s going to ask a dying man to talk sense. Besides, it would take too long.

After a silence, Patman whispered, “Let him go, Cima.”

“His yen to make war might be good as gold, but my boys ain’t worth a damn after dark. We can pick up the man’s sign in the morning and have him before sundown.”

“You do what you want tomorrow. Just let him go tonight.”

“He wouldn’t gain anything,” the scout whispered impatiently. “He’s got the girl here now to live with long as he wants.”

“He’s got to live with himself, too.” Patman’s voice sounded weaker. “And he doesn’t take free gifts. He’s got a funny kind of pride. If he doesn’t go after that man, he’ll never look at that girl again.”

Cima Quaine