Escape From Five Shadows Page 17

“Karla wouldn’t lie.”

  “Then call it something else.”

  “I think you’re afraid to go to your wife. When you see what’s happened you’ll have to do something. But you don’t know what.”

  “Are you concerned over her?”

  “Anybody would be.”

  Falvey turned from the bar. “The reason I ask is because she doesn’t own saddlebags.”

  “What?”

  “That you could have taken her revolver from.”

  “All right,” Bowen said quietly. “I saw her one day in the stable and talked her into letting me have it.”

  “That easily?”

  “It sounds simpler when you tell it.”

  “How would giving you a gun help her—did she say?”

  Bowen shook his head. “Maybe she thought I’d use it on Renda. I don’t know.”

  “Or on me,” Falvey said. He turned back to the bar.

  “Mr. Falvey, you know better than that.”

  “Get away from me!”

  You must be easy to read, Bowen thought, remembering Salvaje but now thinking of Falvey. He walked to one of the front windows and leaned against the side frame as he looked out. No, not this time, he thought. This time you made a mistake and were caught at it and it didn’t matter what your face told. He’s not dumb. He knows what’s going on…but you have to feel sorry for him, don’t you?

  How would you like to have a wife who wanted you killed? And you suspected it. If you didn’t suspect it, at least you wouldn’t put it past her. So why should he be concerned about her? You say that doesn’t happen to people, but you wake up one morning and it’s happening to you. No wonder he drinks. He’s got a lot to drink about.

  He began to think of Karla then—the look on her face as she came in and saw him in the room, almost going to him, but remembering and realizing he shouldn’t be there and holding herself back. Was that it? Her father explained about the escape, but Karla didn’t look at Bowen as he did, nor after, when she told about Renda and Lizann.

  At first, Bowen believed she was angry—just as her father had been, because he had escaped instead of waited. Then he realized that hers was not anger at all, but indifference. At least a posed indifference. And finally he understood—remembering the look on her face the morning she came into Lizann Falvey’s quarters and found him there. She had seen the gun, and she had seen Lizann’s hands on his shoulders.

  He felt someone behind him and as he turned, Karla said, “Would you like coffee?”

  “Fine…I was just thinking about you.”

  “I’ll bring you a cup.” She started to turn away.

  “Karla—” His hand touched her arm, but came away as she looked up at him again. “We never have much time to talk, do we?”

  “I guess not.”

  “We ought to have about a week with nothing else to do but talk, to get caught up with each other.” He paused. “Karla…I’m grateful for what you’ve done. I’ve thought about it and thought about it, but I don’t know how to say it.”

  “Is that why you escaped, to come thank us?”

  Bowen frowned. “I tried to explain that to your father.” He spoke earnestly, keeping his voice low. “You can feel you’ve done right, but when you explain it, it doesn’t sound like good sense.”

  Karla’s eyes raised to his. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. You had no reason to believe a new trial would come through.”

  “I was hopeful. But then this chance came along.”

  “If only I could have gotten to you before—”

  “Well, it’s done now.”

  “The morning you were with Lizann”—Karla’s eyes moved to the window—“I wanted to tell you about it then. But you were there and then gone. I asked Lizann to tell you we’d found out something and not to use the gun.” She paused. “No…I even told her Mr. Martz had filed a motion for a new trial!”

  Bowen shook his head. “She didn’t tell me anything about it. Listen…that’s something else. She had good reason not to tell me.” He glanced toward Falvey at the bar and brought Karla closer to him. “I’ve got something on my mind and I don’t know what to do about it. Lizann didn’t just give me that gun for my sake.” He glanced toward the bar again, then back to Karla. “She wanted me to use it on Willis.”

  Karla’s lips parted. But for a moment she stared, saying nothing. “You’re sure?”

  “She said I could do anything I wanted with it—if I used it on Willis first.”

  “It’s hard to believe a woman—”

  “Listen, I was standing right in front of her and I had trouble believing it.”

  “But you took the gun,” Karla said.

  “Of course I took it. I wanted to get out. I would have promised to shoot President Cleveland if she’d asked me. That kind of promise doesn’t mean anything.”

  Karla said, “Have you told Willis?”

  “No. That’s what’s bothering me. But he saw me come in here with the gun and he even guessed how I got it.”

  “Maybe he thinks there’s something between you and Lizann.”

  “I don’t know. Maybe he does.”

  “Is there?” Karla asked hesitatingly.

  “Because we were standing so close that time?”

  “That would seem to suggest—”

  “Karla, she wasn’t taking any chances. If I didn’t feel sorry for her enough to do it, then maybe she could make me like her enough to.”

  “I wasn’t going to ask you that,” Karla said. “It just came out.”

  He watched her eyes and the clean line of her nose and her mouth. “It’s something, isn’t it? We’ve only talked together twice before this.”

  Karla nodded looking up at him and was silent for a moment. “What are you going to do?”

  “Now?”

  She smiled. “What would you do after. If—”

  “After, I was planning to visit Willcox. I’ve got a friend there in the mining business. He doesn’t mine there, but that’s where his office is and where he ships out of. He’s been after me to join him for a long time. In fact, I was on my way there when I met Earl.”

  “That’s where my mother is,” Karla said. “My sisters are in school there.”

  “You’ve got sisters?”

  “Two younger ones.”

  “I could look them up.”

  “It isn’t far. I go down every once in a while.”

  “We could sure get to know each other, couldn’t we?”

  “But,” Karla said, “it seems a long way off.”

  “Now we’re back,” Bowen said.

  Karla smiled faintly. “I’m glad we did that.” She paused. “Are you going to tell Willis?”

  “I don’t want to. Even if he suspects her, knowing it is something else.”

  “Maybe she’s sorry now.”

  “Maybe she is. I don’t know.”

  “You’d think they would have parted before this.”

  “Renda wouldn’t let them.”

  “What if Willis still likes her?” Karla said.

  “That’d be something.”

  “Corey…don’t tell him. If he already suspects her, he must be on his guard—”

  “Or else he doesn’t care.”

  “At least wait and see how this comes out. If there’s a hearing, then you know she’ll take the opportunity to leave him.”

  “But if Renda wins there won’t be a hearing and everybody’ll be right back where they started.”

  “Don’t let him win,” Karla said earnestly.

  “Karla, I keep going over it and going over it—I can’t just use a gun on him. If I killed him I’d be back in jail—or worse—and Willis wouldn’t have to say a word. If we hold Renda and force a hearing, we can’t prove anything unless Willis testifies.”

  “But Lizann would,” Karla said.

  “You can’t count on her. She might keep still, afraid the plan to kill Willis would come out. Or she might just run off.”
<
br />   Karla nodded. “So Willis is the only hope.”

  “And he knows he’ll go to jail if he speaks up.”

  “Corey…what will you do when he comes?”

  “I wish I knew.”

  There was silence before Karla said, “He doesn’t know Willis is here. Every other time Willis has gone to Fuegos. Sometimes he stops for a drink on the way. But this time he stayed…and Renda couldn’t know that.”

  “Your father mentioned it. I don’t know how it can help us—” Bowen stopped. “Unless—”

  “Unless,” Karla said eagerly, “you can make him tell what he did to Lizann in front of Willis! He won’t believe it from us—”

  “He doesn’t want to believe it,” Bowen said.

  “But he’d have to believe Renda. And in front of all of us we’d have to do something—that’s what I mean!”

  “If I was Willis I wouldn’t much care.”

  “But you’re not Willis! He said he didn’t believe us…not he didn’t care. That’s why I’d be willing to bet anything he still likes her.”

  “You sure have a feeling about people.”

  “I was right about you, wasn’t I?”

  “You and that Mimbre would get along fine.”

  Karla frowned, but she ignored this and said, “Is it worth a try or isn’t it?”

  “I suppose it is,” Bowen said slowly. Then, “Tell your father to keep Willis out of sight when Frank comes, but close enough to hear.” Bowen shook his head. “I don’t even know what I’m going to say. Your father gave me an envelope to pass off as the one Frank’s looking for, but I don’t know how I’d work that. I’ve got all kinds of tricks and I don’t know how I’m going to spring any of them.”

  “You could pretend to make a deal with him,” Karla said eagerly. “Renda gets the letter if he lets you go. At least you’d have a chance of getting away from here.”

  Bowen shrugged. “I don’t know.”

  Karla smiled up at him. “You’ll think of something.” Turning away she said, “I’ll bring your coffee now.”

  But within thirty seconds the coffee was forgotten and there was no time to think of what he would say. As Bowen looked out across the yard again, he saw Frank Renda ride out of the willows.

  17

  Bowen drew the Colt from his belt, pressing himself against the wall next to the window. He looked across the room seeing Karla and her father in the kitchen, then waited until Demery turned from her and started into the front room.

  “He’s here,” Bowen said. He nodded toward Falvey, saw Falvey turn from the bar as Demery started for him, then Bowen’s gaze returned to the window.

  Renda came at a walk, moving easily with the motion of the big chestnut. The shotgun was across his lap and his eyes remained on the adobe as he approached.

  Behind him, Bowen heard Falvey’s voice. A protest. Then steps going into the kitchen. Bowen moved three steps along the wall to the next window as Renda drew closer. He watched Renda come to a stop five or six yards out from the door. Now he’ll call, Bowen thought.

  But there was no call. Renda waited, apparently listening, then reined the chestnut to the left and started along the front of the open shed.

  Bowen pressed close to the window, then came away from it suddenly. He saw Karla in the kitchen doorway, motioned to her and moved quietly to meet her. “He’s going around back. Get Willis’s horse out of sight—quick!”

  He stepped to the window again, saw Renda nearing the end of the shed, made sure he was turning the corner, then hurried to the kitchen. Karla was already outside. Demery, standing behind Falvey who was seated at the table, raised his eyes inquiringly.

  “He’s coming around,” Bowen said.

  “What’s Karla doing?”

  “She’s all right.”

  Bowen moved to the wooden sink and pressed against the drainboard to look out the window. He saw Karla holding the dun close to the bit, her left hand on its nose, leading it along the stable shed that extended out from the house and almost to the corral. She reached the end of the shed and rounded it a moment before Renda came into the yard.

  As Renda looked toward the house, Bowen stepped away from the window. Then, hearing the horse’s hoofs again, he moved along the wall to the door and looked out, edging past the side frame.

  The chestnut was broadside to him, facing the shed, ten yards out and directly in line with the door. Renda sat motionless, half turned from Bowen and staring off toward the end of the shed. His right hand was on the shotgun and he seemed to be listening.

  He’d have to come around to use it, Bowen thought. Or turn it over and shoot left-handed.

  Bowen eased open the screen door and stepped outside. Instantly the sunlight struck him and he wanted to pull his hat brim closer to his eyes, but he hesitated with the thought of his hand momentarily in front of his face. Without thinking the word fear he realized it was fear that made him hesitate, and now, deliberately, he pulled the straw brim straight over his eyes, telling himself to relax and get hold of himself, before he brought up the Colt, cocking it as he did.

  “Frank—”

  Renda’s body twisted in the saddle. Seeing Bowen, his face showed surprise, but it was momentary and only in his eyes. He stared at Bowen intently, saying nothing, and Bowen could almost read what was passing through his mind.

  “Don’t even think about it,” Bowen warned. “You wouldn’t get it halfway around.”

  Renda seemed to relax. “You’ll never learn, will you? Put the gun down and tell Earl to come out.”

  “Earl’s not in this.”

  “He’s already gone?”

  Bowen shook his head. “But he’s out of it. This is just between you and me.”

  “Listen, you’re in enough trouble. Put the gun down.” Renda waited. The Colt remained leveled at him. “Corey, you’re going to strain yourself standing like that.” Renda’s left heel nudged the chestnut and its forelegs side-stepped toward the porch.

  “Hold it!”

  Renda was almost facing Bowen now. He smiled, saying, “You got poor nerves, Corey.”

  “Let the shotgun drop and they’ll be all right.”

  “What if it went off?”

  “So will this if it does.”

  “You won’t get more than a mile,” Renda said. “You know that. The Mimbres’ll be all over you.”

  “Are you sure?”

  Renda shrugged. “You ought to know it better than I do.”

  “Let go of the shotgun, Frank.”

  “If I don’t what’ll you do, shoot me?”

  “I might have to.”

  “Use your head. You got, what—six years to serve. You’d trade that for a rope?”

  Bowen hesitated. Something was forming in his mind, but he was not yet sure if it could be developed. He said then, “What would you trade to stay alive?”

  “I don’t see where I have to trade anything.”

  Now, Bowen thought. “What about the letter you came for?”

  Renda grinned. “Little Karla’s been telling you things.”

  “Look at it this way,” Bowen said. “Would you give your life to try to get the letter?”

  For a moment Renda was silent and he nodded thoughtfully. “I’ve been figuring you all wrong, haven’t I?”

  “You see what it comes to?” Bowen said carefully.

  Renda shrugged. “But I’m not even sure Karla’s got the letter.”

  “You wouldn’t be here if you weren’t.”

  “The thing is,” Renda said slowly. “I don’t see you come out smelling any better than you went in. What do you get out of it?”

  “I get what you trade for the letter.”

  “So we’re making a deal.” Renda grinned. “I must be a little slow this morning.”

  Bowen nodded. “But now everything’s clear.”

  “Where’s the letter now?”

  Bowen’s hand touched his pocket. “Right here.”

  “Let’s see it.”


  Bowen’s eyes remained on Renda as his hand went to his pocket and brought out the envelope Demery had given him. He glanced at it and saw it was addressed to Demery. “Frank, it says: to the District Supervisor, Bureau of”—Bowen looked up. “I can’t read all of Lizann’s writing.” Then, glancing at the envelope again, “Department of the Interior, Prescott, Arizona Territory…That mean anything to you?”

  “I don’t know if it does,” Renda answered. “I haven’t read it. Have you?”

  “I don’t have to—I’ve been living with you.”

  Renda leaned forward. “Let’s see it.”

  “Not till we talk about a swap.”

  Renda was silent. “How about this?” he said then. “You give me the letter and I give you a ten-minute start. Take a horse and keep your gun.”

  Bowen smiled faintly. “You believe in starting low.”

  “You want a half hour?”

  Get somewhere, Bowen thought, but said, still not sure where this would lead, “What about the Mimbres?”

  “That’s your problem.”

  Bowen shook his head. “They’re yours now.”

  “All right…I’ll call them off.”

  “How?”

  “Ride ahead—tell them to let you through.”

  “Even if I trusted you, I wouldn’t go for that.”

  “You’re hard to please.” Renda paused, then said, “Here’s another way. You come back to the camp and we’ll fix it for you to slip out at night. You’d have about a six-hour start.”

  “You’re bidding low again,” Bowen said. “The more I think about it, the more it looks like I’m only safe if I stay close to you. Even if I did get away I’d be hiding out the rest of my life…while you’re making all that money on the road.” He spoke slowly, thinking ahead of what he was saying and suddenly, there it was: a way to bring Falvey into it. A natural, part-of-the-conversation way that would arouse neither Renda’s suspicion nor Falvey’s—if he was listening. And Bowen thought, wanting to look around at the adobe but making himself keep his eyes on Renda: Willis, be listening!

  He said then, “What I need, Frank, is a deal something like Willis Falvey’s. We’d each have something on the other, and we’d get along fine.”

  Renda studied Bowen in silence.

  “Fix me a deal like that, Frank. I get so much of your profits for not mailing the letter.”