The Last Hard Men - Brian Garfield [34]
Portugee said in his high-pitched twang, “He’s rat, Zach. No hard feelings, now, but you got us this far on yo’ promise that we was gonna get a lot of money out of that smelter. Maybe it wasn’t yo’ fault, maybe lak you said it was Burgade put them up to it, but all the same we just as broke as we was before. I reckon I got as good a chance my own self as I got stickin’ with you-all.”
“No,” Provo said. “We stay together. All of us.”
Will Gant moved wider away from Portugee, snapped a glance at Menendez, and said, “What the hell for, Zach? Why you so damn set on keepin’ us together?”
“It’s for your own good, Will.” But even to Susan it sounded lame; she looked at Provo in bewilderment. She saw his eyes flicker, shifting from face to face, and knew what he was doing—he was measuring each one of them, sizing them up. Probably trying to decide how many were on his side. She hadn’t sorted out all their loyalties and knew nothing of their motives, but it was clear that for whatever reason, Menendez was Provo’s ally. As for the rest, it was impossible for her to tell. She had a feeling Shelby was willing to go along with Provo, but not to the extent of fighting the others over it. Taco Riva didn’t seem to care about much of anything except the horses. Quesada was unfathomable. George Weed had not spoken ten words in her hearing and she had no idea of his sentiments—until now, when Weed stirred and spoke:
“Maybe you better spell out whatever it is you got in mind, Zach. Then we can decide.”
Provo seemed indignant. “I’ve pulled all of you through this far, haven’t I? You know what happened to the rest of the cons that busted out with us, don’t you? Every one of them ended up back in Yuma. All except you men—because I took you under my wing. You’re still loose because I’m the only one with brains enough to keep you loose. And you want to walk out on me. All right, walk. See how far you get.” He wheeled to his horse in anger and gathered the reins to mount.
It was Quesada, strangely, who spoke: “That’s not enough anymore, Zach.”
It turned Provo around. “What?”
The big bald-headed man had a slow, apologetic way of talking. He looked like a drunk, with his purplish face and big red nose and shifty eyes. “You had a plan, before. We was gonna get enough money to get out of the country. Like Portugee said, maybe it wasn’t your fault the money wasn’t there. But at least we had it to shoot for. What we got to shoot for now? What are you offering us?”
Provo snorted. “Your skins.”
“Maybe we can look out after our own skins, Zach.”
“Maybe you just think you can.” But he was looking them over again and Susan could see it when he realized he had lost them. Weed, Portugee, Gant, Quesada, they had all turned cold toward him. Shelby was frowning at his boots, not sure which way to turn. Menendez was the only one who didn’t look worried and adamant. Even Taco Riva was watching with evident interest.
Provo let the reins drop from his fist and turned away from his horse to face the rest of them. He looked slightly disgusted. For a moment his hard stare rested against Susan and she felt the icy touch of dread.
Provo said, “It’s like this. I owe Sam Burgade. I owe him a little something for the twenty-eight years I put in on the rockpile and for one or two other things we don’t need to go into. I want you gents to help me pay off that debt. No, let me finish. You want to know what’s in it for you. I’ll tell you. First, where I’m taking you, that posse won’t be able to follow us. It’s out of bounds for them. Burgade, maybe, but Burgade’s just one man. The posse won’t come with him. Figure out those odds and then stack them up against the odds you’d face if you cut out on me and tried to run for it on your own with every sheriff in Arizona looking to nail you. Second, you still want money. All right. I’ve got forty-eight thousand dollars in gold coin buried up on the Mogollon Rim. I need to use some of it to pay off certain people to make sure the law ain’t allowed to follow us where we’re going. I intend