Escape From Five Shadows Page 16

  Bowen raised his elbows to the bar. “Unstrap the gun, Earl, and we won’t have to talk so much.”

  “What’s he been telling you?”

  “I already said it. Avery made a statement and there’s going to be a new trial. You’re going to be there to tell it in your own words.”

  Manring shook his head. “Corey, a man can talk you into just about anything, can’t he?”

  “I guess he can.”

  “A real honest-to-God do-gooder.”

  “You better start unbuckling the belt.”

  “Corey, don’t you see what he’s done?” Manring shook his head again and a faint smile showed in his beard. “He’s made up that story to stall us. He figured how to get to you right away and made up this story about a new trial. We already had one. They don’t try a man twice. Don’t you know that? A man can’t be tried twice for the same crime. That’s a law.”

  Demery said, “There’s a pile of poor reasoning going on in this room.”

  Manring’s hands moved to his hips again as he glanced at Demery. “If I was in your shoes I’d quit pushing it.”

  Watch him, Bowen thought. Every move. Briefly his eyes dropped to the revolver on the bar. Looking up again, its position was in his mind and he knew where his hand would go if it had to.

  “Corey,” Manring said. “There’s a reward for helping bring back escaped convicts. That’s what the old man is thinking about. It’s worth making up a story for.”

  “Earl, why didn’t you tell at the trial I was innocent?”

  “I did! We both were.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  Manring shook his head wearily. “If you’re going to keep talking like that, I’m going on by myself.”

  “You’re not going anywhere.”

  Manring paused, staring at Bowen. “I’m walking out, Corey. If you want to stop me, you’ll have to shoot me in the back.”

  Bowen said nothing.

  “Corey, I don’t have any fight against you. Even right now.” Manring’s voice was quiet and seemed edged with disappointment. “But I can’t stand here and listen to any more. If you want to stay, all right. Then we’ll part company right now.”

  His eyes dropped and he turned to walk through the doorway, but he stopped in the middle of his stride with the unmistakable sound of a hammer being cocked—a thin, metallic click, and after that, silence.

  Facing the doorway, Manring didn’t move. Then, slowly, in the silence, he seemed to relax and he said, “All right, Corey.” He turned carefully, then shook his head seeing the revolver leveled at him. “Now what’re you doing that for?” He started toward Bowen. “Put the gun down, Corey. We’ll talk it over—get everything out in the open.”

  “Unfasten the gun belt,” Bowen said. “Let it drop.”

  Manring came on. Reaching the bar, he said, “For a minute there, Corey, you scared hell out of me. I almost thought you were going to shoot.” His left hand brought the whiskey bottle toward him and he glanced at Bowen. “You want one?”

  Bowen shook his head. His hand on the bottle—he was thinking it, expecting what was to happen, the next moment going to his left away from the end of the bar as Manring’s hand suddenly swept the whiskey bottle at him. With the sound of it smashing against the wall, Manring’s hand was drawing the Colt, clearing it from the holster as he pushed himself away from the bar, seeing Bowen with a hand and a knee on the floor, and at that moment Bowen fired. It was over as suddenly as it had started.

  Manring dropped the Colt as he went down and rolled to his side, his hands clutched tightly to his right thigh.

  Demery moved toward him, glancing at Bowen. “You’re low today.”

  Bowen nodded. “I don’t want Earl to miss the trial on my account.”

  They carried Manring into Demery’s bedroom and placed him on the bed. Bowen moved to the doorway in line with the front windows and stood there as Demery bound Manring’s leg to stop the bleeding.

  “He’s lucky,” Demery said. “A bigger gun would’ve busted it.”

  “What about moving him?” Bowen said. “Can he travel?”

  “I don’t see why not,” Demery said. “I’ll take you to Fuegos in the wagon. Let the doctor look at him, then board the stage. We’ll give Earl a stick to bite on for the bumps.”

  Bowen moved closer to the bed. “You hear that, Earl? You’re going to trial.”

  Manring stared at the ceiling and said nothing.

  “Earl, why didn’t you tell them I was innocent?”

  Manring looked at him then. “You must be awful lucky to get by as dumb as you are.”

  “You didn’t gain by it,” Bowen said. “Once you were sentenced, why didn’t you explain how it was?”

  “What’s the difference?” Manring said. “You’d still be here.”

  “Is that the only reason—because they wouldn’t believe you even if you told?”

  “There’s a real dumb do-gooder for you,” Manring said. His expression changed to anger. “You forget that night before the trial!”

  Puzzled, Bowen said, “In the jail cell?”

  “In the cell—when you tried to beat my head in!”

  “You let me get sent to Yuma for that?”

  “Listen to him,” Manring said. “You got what you drawed, boy. Thinking you’re so damn better than anybody else—dumb as you are—you deserved to get sent away.”

  “Earl, that doesn’t make sense.”

  “Well, think about it a while. In your case it takes longer to sink in.”

  Demery said, “I’d have aimed higher, Corey. About two feet up and a little to the left.”

  Manring glared at him. “You and your mouth can go to hell.”

  Bowen turned as Falvey appeared in the doorway. “Somebody’s coming,” Falvey said, and as he did they could hear hoofbeats in the yard.

  Bowen moved past him, going to a front window. He saw her then, already dismounting, and heard Demery say, “It’s Karla,” going out the door, the screen slamming behind him. Through the window he saw Karla running to her father. She was telling him something, but he could hear only a few of her words: Renda…and Lizann Falvey…and Mimbres. Something about Mimbres.

  He could hear their steps, the screen door opening and Karla’s voice clearly now, though she was out of breath and spoke hurriedly—

  “They’re up on the hill—at least five or six, but I’m not sure because I came on them unexpectedly. They were all dismounted and I recognized the head one. He was there. The one who wears the hat—”

  She saw Bowen then.

  16

  From the pines that crested the hill, Salvaje watched Karla Demery ride into the willows, saw her come out the other side and continue on at the same running pace across the yard. As she dismounted, a man came out of the adobe and she went to him.

  The woman cannot help him, Salvaje thought in English. She will tell we are here, but what more could she do than that? And it matters little. Sooner or later he would come out and find out for himself.

  He thought of Bowen as he would of another Apache. He thought of him as a man who considered carefully before he acted. A man who did not underestimate his opponent. And regarding Bowen this way, Salvaje had changed his own tactics.

  Instead of sending one tracker to the station to signal the escaped man’s direction, Salvaje had followed the two men-running tracks himself all the way to these pines which overlooked the station. Four men remained with him. Another five were positioned in the trees which faced the corral behind the adobe.

  Perhaps they could rush the adobe and take the two men by surprise. Perhaps the two men already knew they were here, even before the woman came. And perhaps they still had sticks that exploded. There were many perhapses and one had to think carefully to outwit an opponent.

  Often he thought of the time Bowen, alone, had fought his men in the meadow and he held him in high regard.

  This Bowen was a good opponent, but he seemed to not want to caus
e injury and this put him at a disadvantage. The first time he escaped, he shot at horses, but not at men. And throwing the exploding sticks it seemed he wanted to keep them from following, to warn them; but not to injure or kill.

  It was unfortunate that a man should be born with that feeling; especially a man of this one’s ability. But it was also unfortunate one had to fight against him. He made it a good fight, but it would be better to be with him than against him. This man who took tulapai with Zele and Pindah.

  But let him make the first move now. Watch this man. Perhaps one might even learn something from him. But if one did learn something—against whom would you use it? The good days were long past.

  He is taking a long time, Salvaje continued to think. That could mean he is planning something worthwhile. Or perhaps the man who lives there shot him—though the sound might not have been that of a gun. Or perhaps he is afraid. No. That one could be afraid, but he would not show it by hiding.

  A quarter of an hour had passed since the woman had gone down the slope. Then, as Salvaje watched the adobe, the screen door opened and a man stepped out. Salvaje rose.

  He watched the man walk out a few strides, then stop, then raise his hat and wave it in the air in a slow come-forward signal. The man wore convict clothes and after only a moment of watching him Salvaje was sure that it was Bowen.

  Now it begins. He wants to talk and he holds his arms up to show he is unarmed. Or he is giving himself up? No. He watched Bowen walk toward the willows.

  All right, we talk. Salvaje motioned to one of his men and the two Mimbres walked down the slope side by side. They carried their Springfields and did not take their eyes from the figure of the man now standing in the deep shade of the willows. When he was almost to the trees, Salvaje motioned his man to stop and he went on alone.

  Bowen stood waiting. He watched the Mimbreño part the hanging willow branches entering the shade, then stop directly across the narrow creek from him.

  “You come armed,” Bowen said.

  “I am under no truce,” the Mimbreño said. “Perhaps you should have arms yourself.”

  “I came to speak as a friend.”

  “Let me tell you something first,” Salvaje said, speaking clearly, carefully. “If you beg to go free, I will shoot you before you can turn away.”

  “I didn’t come to beg,” Bowen said. “I’m going to tell you two things. If there is anything you don’t understand, I ask you to take my word that it’s the truth. If you don’t, there’s nothing I can do about it. When I’m through, it’s up to you to decide what you want to do. You understand that?”

  Salvaje nodded.

  Quickly then, but explaining it as simply as he could, Bowen told the Mimbreño how he had been tried once for a crime he had not committed and now he was to be tried again. Briefly he explained Karla’s part. Then Manring’s, and what Manring had tried to do in the adobe—final proof that he was guilty.

  But, Bowen explained, his own innocence would mean nothing if Renda returned him to the camp. Renda could even kill him on the way and report that he had tried to escape. He must remain free long enough to appear in court again. That was the important thing. If Salvaje did not believe this he could ask the girl in the house. She acted fairly, for hadn’t Salvaje taken two of her horses yet she had not reported him?

  Salvaje stared at Bowen. “But the man who is innocent kills two men in his escape.”

  “That was not my doing,” Bowen said. “The one called Pryde tried to trap Brazil and he was killed himself.”

  “Will the men of the trial believe that?”

  Bowen hesitated. “I don’t know. I can only tell them how it happened.”

  “And what is the second thing?” Salvaje asked.

  “The girl in the house who rode past you,” Bowen said. “She had just left the camp where she saw Renda beating Falvey’s woman.” Bowen paused. “This is hard to explain; you see, Renda’s been doing things against the law. The woman knew about it and wanted to leave, but he wouldn’t let her. The girl, Karla, believes Renda is on his way here. Renda thinks the girl has a letter that will prove the unlawful things he has done.” Bowen paused again. “You see, Falvey’s woman, in order to get rid of him, told him the girl had been there earlier and had taken the letter with her. This was not true. As I said, it was only to make him leave. But the girl did happen to be there as they spoke. Renda saw her ride away and he believed she did have a letter.”

  Bowen shook his head. “Does that make sense?”

  “Finish,” Salvaje said.

  “All right—Willis Falvey is in the house now. If he will report Renda, Renda will go to prison or even hang. Falvey is afraid of Renda, but now maybe he will report him.”

  “And if Renda is taken now,” Salvaje said, “you will not go back to Five Shadows.”

  “That’s right.”

  “And Renda will be finished.”

  “If we can prove what he’s been doing.”

  “What would you have me do?” Salvaje asked.

  Momentarily Bowen smiled. He said then, “Nothing.”

  “Nothing?”

  “We have to handle this ourselves,” Bowen said. “If you went against him you’d be liable for a court-martial; because nothing’s been proved against him yet. But if you’ll take your men away and let us handle it…well, I’ll be grateful. It’s up to you.”

  “You are sure of yourself,” the Mimbreño said. “Or you wouldn’t have come out here.”

  Bowen nodded. “I don’t know why—I just had a feeling you’d agree.”

  “Perhaps we drink tulapai sometime.”

  Bowen nodded again. “Perhaps.”

  “I would like to see him finished,” Salvaje said thoughtfully. “I don’t understand everything, but I would like to see that happen.”

  “Then you’ll take your men away?”

  Salvaje nodded solemnly. “But wherever you are, we will be watching.” He turned abruptly and moved up the slope.

  Bowen walked back to the adobe. Demery waited for him in the doorway. “He’s agreed,” Bowen told him.

  “Just like that.” Demery held the door open.

  Bowen paused. “You ever talk to a man who looks at you the way he does? He doesn’t understand it all, but if you tried to lie he’d know it. I don’t know how, but he would.” Bowen stepped inside and saw Falvey standing at the bar. “What did Willis say?”

  Demery shook his head. “He won’t budge.”

  “He heard Karla tell it. What’s the matter with him?”

  “He says he doesn’t believe us. Says we’re trying to trick him into going against Renda.”

  Bowen saw Karla come out of Manring’s room. Her eyes met his briefly, then looked away as she went into the kitchen. Bowen said quickly, “You’d think Willis’d want to go see for himself.”

  “That would be admitting he believes us,” Demery said. “He doesn’t even want to think about it. But if he moved away from that bar he’d have to.”

  “I don’t know,” Bowen said wearily. “Maybe I ought to just give myself up.”

  “You do,” Demery told him, “and you’ll never get to Prescott. You know that. This is twice you’ve made a fool of him. Frank will either think up a way to kill you or else bury you under so many charges nobody could get you out…The way I see it, your only chance is to get Renda before the authorities.”

  “If we just took him,” Bowen said, “what would happen?”

  “Hand him over without proof? For the same reason I didn’t report some letters Frank destroyed. Letters that didn’t belong to him. It would be our word against his.” Demery said then, “We don’t even know if he’s coming.”

  “He’ll come,” Bowen said.

  “He’s taking his sweet time.”

  “Word must have reached him about the break.”

  “Then he won’t be alone.”

  “His guards still have thirty men to watch. He’s coming on personal business.”

&nbs
p; “If he comes.”

  “He’ll come,” Bowen said again. “If he thinks there’s a letter here for Prescott, he’ll come, break or no break. This is more important to him than two men running away. That’s Salvaje’s worry.”

  “He doesn’t know Willis is here,” Demery said. “Maybe we can make something out of that. Let’s think about it.”

  Bowen nodded. “And the letter that’s supposed to be here.”

  Demery nodded thoughtfully. He went to the roll-top desk, came back with an envelope and handed it to Bowen. “If you could hold a gun on Renda and tell him you’ve got the letter—”

  “Then what?”

  “I don’t know. It was just a thought.”

  Bowen stuffed the envelope into his left pants pocket. “The holding the gun on him sounds all right…Well, we better be ready.” He walked to the bar, picked up the Colt Manring had dropped and pushed it into his waist. As he did, Falvey turned from the bar. “Where did you get that gun?”

  Bowen looked up questioningly. “Earl had it.”

  “I mean the one you used on him.”

  “Oh—” Bowen hesitated. “I got it out of your wife’s saddlebag this morning.” He watched Falvey turn to the bar again. “Frank will be here soon. You better get hold of yourself.”

  Falvey raised his glass. “I have no part in this.”

  “You can wash your hands all you want,” Bowen said. “But if there’s a hearing, you’ll be dragged into it.”

  “I’ll tell the authorities the same thing I’m telling you.”

  “They’ll check your books,” Bowen said. “Any man who can count will see what you’ve been up to.”

  Falvey came around as Bowen spoke. “What do you know about my books?”

  “What I just said’s enough.”

  “You don’t know what you’re talking about. My books are in order. There isn’t a man who can prove otherwise.”

  “What about your wife?”

  “Leave her out of it.”

  “Don’t you want to see how she is?”

  “If you think I believe that girl’s story, you’re out of your mind.”