Valdez Is Coming Read online

  That one, God, when he'd picked up the little girl, R. L. Davis wasn't sure he could watch what the man wanted to do. Her being a tiny girl.

  After a while he said well, he'd double back and take a swing to the north. The others said they'd get up on the banks and look around and head back pretty soon. Good. He was glad to get away from the bony-faced one, a face like a skeleton face, only with skin.

  So R. L. Davis moved back up the arroyo. He wasn't looking for anything in particular; there was nothing out here but the hot sun beating down on him. He saw the willow shade up ahead and the bright yellow blossoms of the brittlebush growing along the cutbank. The shade looked good. He headed for it. And when he found the Erin woman in there, sitting in the brush, tied up, he couldn't believe his eyes.

  It was a lot to think about all at once. Valdez was here. Had been here. He'd put the woman here out of the way and gone to see Diego Luz. And if he left her like this, tied hand and foot, with a bandana over her mouth, then he was coming back for her. The woman was looking at him and he had to make up his mind fast.

  He could pull her up behind him on the sorrel and deliver her to Tanner and say, "Here you are, Mr. Tanner. What else you need done?"

  Or he could wait for Bob Valdez. Throw down on him and bring him in as well as the woman. Or gun him if that's the way Valdez wanted it.

  The woman looked good. He'd like to slip the bandana from her mouth and get a close look at her. But he'd better not. There was a little clearing in here and rocks that had come down the cutbank. There was room in here to face him. There was room deeper in the brittlebush for his horse, if the son of a bitch didn't make any noise.

  God Almighty, R. L. Davis thought. How about it? Bring them both in.

  Once he'd moved the sorrel into the brush, he got his Winchester off the saddle and settled down behind the woman, behind some good rock cover. He saw her twist around to the side to look at him, her eyes looking but not saying anything. Probably scared to death. He motioned her to turn around and put one finger to his mouth. Shhhh. Don't worry; it won't be long.

  Crossing the pasture from Diego Luz's place, Valdez saw the willows in the distance marking the arroyo. There had been some luck with him so far, coming in and going out, though he didn't know Tanner and he wasn't sure if it was luck or not. He didn't know yet how the man thought, if he was intelligent and could anticipate what the other man might do, or if he ran in all directions trusting only to luck. Luck was all right when you had it, but it couldn't be counted on. It worked good and bad, but it worked more good than bad if you knew what you were doing, if you were careful and watched and listened. He shouldn't be here, but he was here, and if the luck or whatever it was continued, he would be in high country again late this afternoon, letting Tanner find him and follow him, but not letting him get too close until the time was right for that.

  When he talked to Tanner again it had to be on his own ground, not Tanner's.

  The sawed-off Remington was across his lap as he approached the willows and entered the cavern of shade formed by the hanging branches. Holding the Remington, he dismounted and stood still to listen. There was no sound in the trees. He moved along the bank of the arroyo, beyond the thick brush below, to a place where the bank slanted down in deep slashes to the dry bed. He worked his way down carefully. At the bottom, as he entered the brittlebush, he cocked the right barrel of the Remington.

  The Erin woman sat where he had placed her. She did not hear him or look this way. The bandana covered the side of her face and pulled her long hair behind her shoulders, which sagged with the weariness of sitting here for nearly an hour. You hold her all night and tie her in the morning, he thought. You make love to her, but you've never said her name. Now she turned her head this way.

  He saw the startled expression jump into her eyes. He moved toward her, watching her eyes, wide open; her head moved very slightly to the side and then her eyes moved in that direction. Off to the right of her or behind her. Valdez shifted his gaze to the rocks and deep brush.

  He moved forward again, a half step, and a voice he recognized said, "That's far enough!"

  "Hey!" Valdez said. "Is that Mr. R. L. Davis?"

  "Put down the scattergun and unfasten your belt."

  Valdez's gaze shifted slightly. There. He could see the glint of the Winchester barrel in the brush and part of Davis's hat. He was behind an outcropping of rock, looking out past the left side, which meant he would have to expose half of his body to fire from that place. If he's right-handed, Valdez thought. He remembered Davis firing at the Lipan woman across the Maricopa pasture and he said to himself, Yes, he's right-handed.

  "You hear me? I said put it down!"

  "Why don't you come out?" Valdez said.

  The sawed-off Remington was in his right hand, pointed down, but with his finger curled on the trigger. He looked at the brush and the edge of the rock outcropping, judging the distance. He imagined swinging the shotgun up and firing, deciding how high he would have to swing it. You get one time, Valdez thought. No more.

  "I'm going to count to three," R. L. Davis said.

  "Listen," Valdez called. "Why don't you cut out this game and use your gun if you want to use it? What're you hiding in the bushes for?"

  "I'm warning you to put it down!"

  "Come on, boy, use the gun. Hey, pretend I'm an Indian woman, you yellow-ass son of a bitch."

  There. His shoulder and the rifle barrel sliding higher on the outcropping, more of him in the brush, and Valdez swung up the Remington, squeezing his hand around the narrow neck and seeing the brush fly apart with the explosion.

  "Hey, you still there?" He shifted the gun to his left hand and drew the Walker. There was a silence. He glanced at the woman, seeing her eyes on him, and away from her.

  "I'm hit!" Davis called out.

  "What do you expect?" Valdez said. "You want to play guns."

  "I'm bleeding!"

  "Wipe it off and try again."

  Silence.

  "Boy, I'm coming in for you. You ready?"

  He saw Davis at the edge of the rock again, seeing him more clearly now with part of the brush torn away. Davis came out a little more, his left hand covering his ear and the side of his face.

  "Don't shoot. Listen to me, don't."

  "The first one was for Diego," Valdez said. "The next one's from me. I owe you something."

  "I didn't leave you, did I? I didn't let you die. I could've, but I didn't."

  "Pick up your gun."

  "Listen, I cut you loose!"

  Valdez paused, letting the silence come over the clearing. He heard another sound, far away, off behind him, but his gaze held on Davis.

  "Say it again."

  "After I pushed you over. That night I come back and cut you loose, didn't I?"

  "I didn't see you that night."

  "Well, who do you think did it?"

  His gaze dropped to the woman, to her eyes looking at him above the bandana. He heard the sound again and knew it was a horse approaching, coming fast up the arroyo.

  "I left you my canteen. I can prove it's mine, it's got my initials scratched in the tin part, inside."

  Valdez raised his Walker to shut him up and motion him out of the brush. Davis started out, then stopped. He could hear the horse.

  "Come on," Valdez hissed.

  But Davis hesitated. The sound was louder down the arroyo, rumbling toward them. Davis waited another moment then yelled out, "He's in here!" throwing himself behind the outcropping. "Get him! He's in here!"

  Valdez reached the woman and pushed her over. He turned, moving crouched through the brittlebush, at the edge of it now, and stepping out of it as the first rider came at him from thirty yards away, drawing his revolver as he saw Valdez and the barrels of the Remington, then seeing nothing as the ten-bore charge rocked him from the saddle. The second rider was down the arroyo coming fast, low in the saddle and spurring his horse, his handgun already drawn, firing it from the off side
of his horse. Valdez raised the Walker. He thumbed the hammer and fired and thumbed and fired and saw the horse buckle and roll, the rider stiff, with his arms outstretched in the air for a split moment, and Valdez shot him twice before he hit the ground. The horse was on its side, pawing with its forelegs, trying to rise. Valdez looked down the arroyo, waiting, then stepped to the horse and shot it through the head. He walked over to the man, whose death's head face looked up at him with sunken mouth and open eyes.

  "I hope you're one of them Diego wanted," Valdez said. He turned toward the yellow brittlebush, loading the Remington.

  "Where was he?" the segundo asked.

  "He must have been in them bushes and fired on them as they come by," the rider said. "I was back a piece, up on the west side looking for his sign. When I heard the gunfire I lit up this way and they was coming out of the draw."

  The segundo held up his hand. "Wait. You don't want to tell it so many times." He squinted under his straw hat brim toward Tanner, mounted on his bay, looking down at them in the arroyo.

  Tanner saw the two bodies sprawled in the dry bed. He saw the dead horse and the yellow-baked ground stained dark at the horse's head. He saw the segundo and a man standing next to him and a half dozen mounted men and a riderless horse nibbling at the brittlebush. Tanner kicked the bay down the bank to the stream bed. He stared at the dead men, then at the segundo, a stub of a cigar clamped in his jaw.

  "This man," the segundo said, "is one of the four we left."

  "You left," Tanner said.

  "I left. He says they went south looking for a sign of him. Then after a while the piss-ant you hired, something Davis, he come back this way."

  "Let him tell it," Tanner said, judging the man next to the segundo as he looked at him.

  "Well, as he says we worked south a ways," the rider said. "Davis come back first and we spread out some. Then these two here must have started back. I was down there a mile and a half, two miles" -- he pointed south, more at ease now, a thumb hooked in his belt -- "when I heard the shots and come on back."

  "Where were they?" Tanner said.

  "When I come back? They were laying there. He must have been in the bushes and fired on them as they come by. As I got close they was coming up out of the draw and going west."

  "Who's they?" Tanner asked him.

  "Two men and a woman."

  "You saw them good?"

  "Well, I was off a ways, but I could see her hair, long hair flying in the wind."

  "You're saying it was Mrs. Erin?"

  "Yes sir, I'd put my hand on the Book it was."

  "You see Valdez?"

  "Not his face, but it must have been him. One of these boys here was blowed off by a scatter gun."

  "That one," the segundo said. "This one, I don't know, forty-four or forty-five, in the chest twice, close together."

  "That's five men he's killed," Tanner said. He drew on the cigar stub; it was out, and he threw it to the ground. "What about Davis?"

  The rider looked up. "I figured he was the other one with them. Once I saw he wasn't around here."

  "That's the strange thing," the segundo said. "Why would the man want to take him? He's worth nothing to him."

  "Unless he went with him on his own," Tanner said. "Mark him down as another one, a dead man when we catch up with them."

  "We'll get him for you," the rider said.

  Tanner looked down at him from the bay horse. "Did you fire at them?"

  "Yes sir, I got down and laid against the cutbank for support and let go till they was out of range."

  "Did you hit anybody?"

  "I don't believe so."

  "But you might have."

  "Yes sir, I might've."

  "That range you couldn't tell."

  "They was two hundred yards when I opened up."

  "You could have hit one though."

  "Yes sir."

  "You could have hit the woman," Tanner said to him.

  "No sir, I wasn't aiming at her. No, I couldn't have hit her. There wasn't any chance I could've. See, I was aiming just at Valdez and he was a good piece from the woman."

  Tanner looked at the segundo. "Put him against the bank and shoot him."

  The rider said, "Mr. Tanner, there was no chance I could've hit her! I swear to God that's the truth!"

  The segundo felt the tobacco in his cheek, rolling it with his tongue as his eyes moved from the rider to Frank Tanner, looking at Tanner now but aware of the mounted men behind him and those up on the bank watching. The segundo said, "We lost five now. We shoot our own, that's six, but the same as Valdez killed him. How many you want to give for this man?"

  "As many as it takes," Tanner said.

  "Instead of shoot him," the segundo said, "we make him ride point. The first one Valdez sees if he's up there waiting. What do you think of that?"

  The rider was watching Tanner. "I'll ride point. Mister, I'll cut his sign, too, and get him for you."

  Tanner stared down from his judgment seat on the bay horse. He let the man hang on the edge for a long moment before he said, "All right, this time," saying no more than that, but holding his eyes on the man to let him know how close he had come.

  The segundo said to the rider, "Start now, come on." He was aware of the men on the bank, beyond Tanner, moving in their saddles, a man wiping his hand across his mouth and another loosening his hat and putting it on again. They were glad it was over. They had killed men, most of them had, but they didn't want to put this one against the bank and shoot him. That would be the end of it. In a few days they would all be gone.

  So that was done. The segundo walked over to Tanner's bay; he touched the horse's withers, feeling the smooth flesh quiver and patting it gently. "We have him now," the segundo said, in a voice only for Tanner. "Yesterday he could take us where he wants with plenty of time. Today he has maybe an hour. He has to run and now he doesn't have no more time."

  "Say it," Tanner said.

  The segundo's hand remained on the horse, patting the firm flesh. "I was thinking to myself, we got eighteen men here. We got six at Mimbreno. We could send eight or ten back and they could start south with the drive. Then when we finish with him we catch up, maybe lose only two days."

  Tanner waited. "You through?"

  "I mean we don't need so many," the segundo said, but he knew by the way the man was looking at him his words had been wasted.

  "I'm going up the mountain," Tanner said. "You're going up the mountain, and all my men are going up the mountain. My men, segundo. You savvy that?"

  "If you say it."

  "I say it," Tanner said.

  Through the field glasses he watched them come up the slope: small dots that he could not count yet, spread in a line, all of them moving this way, one dot ahead of the others, far in front, the only one that he could identify through the field glasses as a mounted rider.

  It wasn't happening the way it was supposed to happen. There was open country behind him and he needed more time, a bigger space between them, if he expected to reach the twin peaks. But they were driving him now, running him and making sure he wasn't going to move around them.

  It was late afternoon, three hours and a little more until sunset. Three hours to hold them here -- if he could hold them -- before he could take his two people and slip out. He lay on the ground with good rock cover in front of him and all along the ridge. Next to him were his guns and Davis's Winchester. Looking at the dots coming up he thought, The Winchester or the Sharps? And said to himself, The Sharps. You know it better. You know what it can do.

  Well, he had better let them know. Pretty soon now.

  He rolled slightly to look at the Erin woman and R. L. Davis. Gay Erin, he said in his mind. Aloud he said, "Mr. R. L. Davis, I would like you to come over here, please, and go down there about fifty feet. You see where those rocks are?"

  Davis stood up awkwardly, his wrists tied to his belt with pieces of rope. His elbows pointed out and he looked as though he w
as holding his stomach. There was dried blood on the side of his face and in his hair and down the arm of his jacket, which was torn and shredded.

  "What do you want me down there for?"

  "I want you in front of me," Valdez said. "So I can see you."

  "What if they come?"

  "They're already coming."

  Davis gazed down the slope, squinting. "I don't see nothing."

  "Take my word," Valdez said.

  "Well listen now, if they start shooting I'm going to be in the line of fire."

  "Behind the rocks, you'll be all right."

  Davis stood his ground. "You still don't believe me, do you? I can prove it by my canteen."

  "I don't have your canteen."

  "You had it. It's somewhere."

  "And we're here," Valdez said. "Let's talk some other time."

  "If I didn't cut you loose, who did?"

  "You can walk down or I can throw you down," Valdez said.

  He looked toward the woman. Say it, he thought. He said, "Gay Erin. Gay. That's your name? Come over here." He watched Davis moving hunch-shouldered down the slope to the cover of low rocks. He felt the woman near him. As she sank to the ground, he handed her the field glasses. "Count them for me."

  He raised up to take Davis's Colt out of his belt. The barrel was cutting into his hip. He placed it on the ground next to him and took the heavy Sharps, the Big Fifty, and laid it on the flat surface of the rock in front of him. He would load from the cartridge belt across his chest. With the stock against his cheek, aware of the oiled metal smell of the gun, he sighted down the barrel. Nothing. Not without the glasses.

  "Seventeen," the Erin woman said.

  He took the glasses from her. Putting them to his eyes the lower part of the slope came up to him.

  They were still far enough away that he could see all of them without sweeping the glasses. He estimated the distance, the first man, the point rider, at six hundred yards, the rest of them at least two hundred yards behind him. The brave one, Valdez thought. Maybe the segundo. Maybe Tanner. He held the glasses on the man until he knew it was not Tanner. Nor the segundo, because of the man's dark hat.