Valdez Is Coming Read online

  They moved deep into the trees from the open slope before Valdez brought them up to listen. And as he listened he thought, You should have kept going and taken the chance. You don't have time to wait.

  He heard the sound through the trees, a twig snapping, then silence. In a moment he heard it again and the sound of movement in dead leaves.

  He was right, some of them were already in the trees. But it did no good to be right this time. They should have kept going and not stopped. They weren't going to sneak through and keep running, and now he wondered if the woman should go first or follow him. Follow him through the trees and in the open, if they reached the canyon, then first into the defile while he held them off. He couldn't remember the distance to the canyon. Perhaps fifty yards, a little more. He was certain of the general direction, the way they would point and keep going.

  He said to the woman, "The last time we run. Are you ready?"

  She nodded once, up and down. Both of her hands were on her saddle horn, but she didn't seem tense or to be holding on.

  "I go first," Valdez said. He nodded in the direction. "That way. You come behind me. Don't go another way around the trees, keep behind me. If you see them in front of us, stay close to me, as close as you can. At the end of the canyon you'll see the opening. You go in first. Don't get off, ride in -- it's wide enough -- and I'll come in after you."

  She nodded again. "All right."

  He smiled at her. "Just a little ride, it's over."

  She nodded again and tried to smile and now he saw she was afraid.

  Valdez dismounted. He untied the sorrel, moving it aside, holding the bridle under the horse's muzzle. As soon as Tanner's men entered the trees he would send the sorrel galloping off and hope they would take off after its sound. He waited, telling Tanner's men to hurry so he would hear them soon; and when it came, moments later, the sound of their horses rushing into the timber, he hissed into the sorrel's ear, yanking the bridle and slapping the Remington hard across the horse's rump as it jumped to a start and ran off through the trees.

  "Now," Valdez said.

  They were moving, running through the shafts of sunlight and darkness with the beating, breathing sound of the horses and the tree branches cutting at their faces, running through the brush, through the wall of leaves and snapping branches and through a clearing into trees again, now hearing Tanner's men calling out somewhere behind and somewhere off in the timber. Valdez could see the canyon ahead through the foliage, the open mouth of the meadow, the rock escarpment slanting to the sky.

  He saw the opening and he saw a rider slash out of the trees in front of him and come around, his horse rearing with the sudden motion. Valdez broke out of the trees straight for the rider, seeing him broadside now and kicking his mount. He bore down on the man, raising the Remington in front of him, and at point-blank range blew the man off the back of his horse.

  He was aware of horses behind him and felt the next man before he saw him or heard him coming up on the left. He switched the Remington to that hand, extending it at arm's length, and when he looked, he fired as the rider fired and saw the man go out of his saddle. The man's horse kept running, racing him, and now he felt the wind in the open and saw the sun balanced on the west rim of the escarpment and heard the Erin woman's horse holding close behind him.

  A high whine sang through the narrows as a rifle opened up on him. He remembered the sound of gunfire in the canyon from a time before. He remembered the shadowed crevices high on the walls and the thick gama grass. But he remembered the meadow longer than this, a half mile long in his mind. Now it was not half that distance and he was almost to the end.

  Another rifle shot sang out as he reached the defile and came around.

  The woman would be there, behind him, and ride in and he would follow her.

  But the horse that came behind him was riderless.

  The horse veered off, seeing the canyon wall. As it moved out of the way, Valdez saw her: she was about thirty yards from him, her horse was down, and she was rising to her feet, holding her head with both hands and looking at the dead horse.

  He saw the segundo close beyond her, dismounting and coming up with a rifle in his hands. Valdez wanted to call out to her, "Run! Come on, do it!" But it was too late. The segundo came on, walking through the gama grass with the rifle in his right hand, his finger through the trigger guard. He stopped before reaching the Erin woman.

  Valdez loaded the Remington -- not thinking about it, but loading it because it was empty and saying to the segundo with his gaze, You want to do something, come on, do it. He was tired, God, at the end of it, but this is what he was saying to the segundo. With the Remington loaded and cocked he walked out to the woman.

  She stood with one hand covering the side of her face, dirt and pieces of grass on her dress and in her hair, as she watched Valdez coming. She looked tired and still afraid, her eyes dull and without question or hope.

  "Almost, uh?" Valdez said.

  "Almost," the Erin woman said.

  "Are you all right?" She nodded and he said then, "You don't have to go back with him. Remember that."

  A look of awareness came into her eyes, as if she had been suddenly awakened from sleep. "Don't say that."

  "It has to be said."

  "I go with you. I don't go with him."

  "Frank Tanner doesn't know that." Valdez paused. He said then, "Frank," smiling with the weariness etched in his face. "Francisco. Francis. I had a friend named Francis. I don't know what happened to him."

  He laughed out loud and saw the startled look come over her and saw the segundo looking at him.

  He heard his own laughter again in the canyon and at the far end saw Frank Tanner and men on both sides of him coming out into the meadow. He saw Tanner stop, looking this way.

  Gay Erin touched his arm, holding on to it. He said to her, "I don't know why I thought it was funny. This Frank and my friend having the same name. They're not much alike." He smiled, still thinking of it, and watched the segundo approach, the segundo staring at him, trying to understand what would make him laugh.

  With his left hand Emilio Avilar raised his hat and wiped his forehead with the same hand and put his hat on again. He said to Valdez, "You have tobacco? For chewing?"

  "Cigarette," Valdez said.

  The segundo nodded. "All right."

  Valdez brought the sack and paper out of his pocket and moved toward the segundo, who stepped forward to meet him. The segundo rolled a cigarette and returned the sack to Valdez, who made one for himself, and the segundo lighted the cigarettes. Valdez stepped back, the cigarette in his mouth, the Remington in his right hand, pointed down.

  The segundo said, blowing out smoke and shaking the match, "Tell me something -- who you are."

  "What difference does it make?" Valdez answered. He looked beyond the segundo to Tanner coming up with his men spread behind him.

  "You hit one yesterday," the segundo said. "I think five hundred yards."

  "Six hundred," Valdez said.

  "What was it you use?"

  "Sharps."

  "I thought some goddam buffalo gun. You hunt buffalo?"

  "Apache," Valdez said.

  "Man, I know it. When?"

  "When they were here."

  "You leave any alive?"

  "Some. In Oklahoma now."

  "Goddam, you do it," the segundo said. "You know how many of mine you kill?"

  "Twelve," Valdez said.

  "You count them."

  "You better, uh?" Valdez said.

  The segundo drew deeply on the cigarette and exhaled slowly. He was looking at Valdez and thinking, How would you like about four of him? All the rest of them could go home. Four of him and no Tanner and they could drive cattle to Mexico and become rich. And then he was thinking, Who would you rather shoot, him or Tanner? It was too bad the two of them couldn't trade places. Tanner liked to put people against the wall. This one knew how to do it. He didn't need a wall. He could
kill a man at six hundred yards, and the son of a bitch kept count.

  "It's too bad it turns out like this," the segundo said.

  "Well," Valdez shrugged. "It will be settled now. It will be finished."

  The segundo continued to study him. "Why don't you give him his woman? Tell him you won't do it again."

  "It's not his woman now."

  The segundo smiled. "Like that."

  "Sure, it's up to him. He wants her back, he has to take her."

  "You think he can't do it?"

  Valdez shrugged again. "If he tries, he's dead. Somebody will get me, there are enough of you. But he still will be dead."

  "He don't think that way," the segundo said.

  Valdez held his gaze. "What do you think?"

  "I believe it." The segundo saw Valdez's gaze lift and he moved to the side, looking over his shoulder to see Frank Tanner coming toward them. The segundo backed away several more steps, but Tanner stopped before reaching him. He was holding a Colt revolver at his side. A man behind Tanner took his horse, and the rest of the men, five of them, spread out, moving to both sides, keeping their eyes on Valdez. R. L. Davis was next to Tanner, a few feet to his right.

  Tanner was looking at the Erin woman, who had not moved as he approached. He stared at her and his expression showed nothing, but he was making up his mind.

  He said finally, "Come over here next to me."

  The woman made no move. "I'm all right where I am."

  "You better start thinking straight," Tanner said. "You better have something to tell me when we get home."

  "I'm not going home with you."

  Tanner took his time. "That's how it is, huh?" His gaze shifted to Valdez. "She better than a Mexican bitch?"

  Valdez said nothing.

  "If that's how it is, you better tell that whore next to you go get out of the way."

  Quietly, Valdez said to her, "Move over a little. Just a little."

  Tanner waited. "Have you got something you want to say to me?"

  "I've said it," Valdez answered.

  Tanner's eyes held on Valdez. He said, "Put this man against the wall over there and shoot him."

  He waited and said then, "Emilio!"

  "I hear you," the segundo said.

  "Take him."

  The segundo did not make a move or seem about to speak.

  "Number two" -- Tanner's voice rose -- "I'm telling you something!"

  The segundo looked at Tanner now, directly at him. He said, "It's not my woman."

  Valdez's eyes shifted to the man, hung there, and returned to Tanner. His hand gripped the Remington lightly, feeling the weight of the gun, the sawed-off barrel hanging at his knee.

  Tanner turned his head slowly to the left, to the three men standing off from him, then to the right, to R. L. Davis and the two men beyond him.

  "I'm going to give the word," Tanner said.

  "Wait a minute!" R. L. Davis said. "I'm no part of this." He saw Tanner looking at him as he edged back a few steps, bumping against his horse and pushing it. "I don't even have a gun."

  "I give you mine," the segundo said.

  "I don't want one!" Davis was edging back, taking himself out of the group, his eyes holding on the Remington at Valdez's side. "I don't have any fight with him."

  In Spanish, the segundo said to the young Mexican on Tanner's left, "Tomas, go home. This isn't yours."

  The young man wasn't sure. "I work for him," he said.

  "Not anymore. I let you go."

  Tanner's head jerked toward the segundo. "What're you telling him?"

  "That she's your woman," the segundo said easily. "A man holds his woman or he doesn't. It's up to him, a personal thing between him and the man who took the woman. All these men are thinking, What have we got to do with it?"

  "You do what I tell you. That's what you've got to do with it." Tanner glanced both ways and said, "I'm talking to everybody present. Everybody hears me and I'm telling you now to shoot him. Now!"

  He looked at his men again, not believing it, seeing them standing watching him, none of them ready to make a move.

  "You hear me -- I said shoot him!"

  Valdez waited in the silence that followed. He waited as Tanner looked at his men, from one to the next. He drew on the cigarette, finishing it, and dropped it and said, "Hey."

  As Tanner turned to him, Valdez said, "I got an idea, Frank," and waited another moment. "You have a gun in your hand. Why don't you shoot me?"

  Tanner faced him, the Colt revolver at his side. He stared at Valdez and said nothing, eyes sunken in the shadow of his hat brim, dusty and beard stubbled, still looking like he was made of gristle and hard to kill.

  But he's not looking at himself, Valdez was thinking, and it isn't an easy thing to raise and fire a Colt at someone. So he jabbed at Tanner saying, "See if your gun is as good as mine. What do you think of something like that? You and I, that's all, uh? What do you need anybody else for?"

  Tanner stood stiffly, no part of him moving.

  "Let me say it to you this way," Valdez said. "You give me money for the Lipan woman whose husband was killed or you use the gun. One or the other, right now. Make up your mind."

  Tanner's hand tightened on the Colt and his thumb lifted to the hammer. He could feel the move he would make and he was looking squarely at Valdez twenty feet away from him, looking at him dead center where the cartridge belt crossed his chest. The moment was there, now, but his gaze flickered to the stubby barrel of the Remington and lingered there and the moment was past. His thumb came off the hammer.

  "Not today," Tanner said. "Another time."

  Valdez shook his head slowly. "No, that was your time. You get one time, mister, to prove who you are."

  "I should have killed you three days ago," Tanner said. "I should have killed you, but I let you go."

  "No" -- the segundo started past him toward the horses, pausing to take the Colt from Tanner's hand -- "three days ago you should have started for Mexico."

  "Or paid the Lipan woman," Valdez said. "It wouldn't have cost you so much."

  About the AuthorELMORE LEONARD has written more than three dozen books during his highly successful writing career, including the bestsellers Mr. Paradise, Tishomingo Blues, Be Cool, Get Shorty, and Rum Punch. Many of his books have been made into movies, including Get Shorty and Out of Sight. He is the recipient of the Grand Master Award of the Mystery Writers of America. He lives with his wife, Christine, in Bloomfield Village, Michigan.

  Books by Elmore LeonardTishomingo Blues

  Pagan Babies

  Be Cool

  The Tonto Woman & Other Western Stories

  Cuba Libre

  Out of Sight

  Riding the Rap

  Pronto

  Rum Punch

  Maximum Bob

  Get Shorty

  Killshot

  Freaky Deaky

  Touch

  Bandits

  Glitz

  LaBrava

  Stick

  Cat Chaser

  Split Images

  City Primeval

  Gold Coast

  Gunsights

  The Switch

  The Hunted

  Unknown Man No. 89

  Swag

  Fifty-two Pickup

  Mr. Majestyk

  Forty Lashes Less One

  Valdez Is Coming

  The Moonshine War

  The Big Bounce

  Hombre

  Last Stand at Saber River

  Escape from Five Shadows

  The Law at Randado

  The Bounty Hunters

  A Coyote's in the House

  Table of Contents

  Start

 

 

 
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