The Last Hard Men (19 page)

That was why it bothered him staying here. He didn’t want to rely on Provo or anybody else; and he didn’t like standing still like this. But he’d invested his time and he had the money coming to him. He was going to stick it out until Provo came across with the gold. And Provo would. There wasn’t going to be any double-cross. Not with seven of them against Provo. If he got balky about leading them to the gold, they’d make him talk. Provo was tough, all right, but no man alive was
that
tough.

Burgade didn’t show up. Neither did Weed. At dawn the sky was dark and wild, but the rain had moved on. There was no reason not to build a fire since they weren’t hiding any longer, but there was no dry wood to be had and Provo vetoed it when Riva and Quesada volunteered to go over to the trees and hunt around for covered fuel. “Why take a chance of getting picked off when you can stay out here safe?”

So they ate cold breakfasts and let the clothes dry on their backs. Susan Burgade sat huddled and dull-eyed, her long hair matted and damp. Shelby gave her something to eat and she pushed it around the plate. She didn’t have any interest in it, but when Shelby came back after twenty minutes to get the plate and scour it out, she’d finished it all. Reflex, probably; she had a vacant look on her face and probably didn’t even remember having eaten.

The sun burned off the ground-water, which had clung to the grass like dew. By ten in the morning it was as if there hadn’t been a rain at all. Riva was fussing over the horses. The rest of them sat around or wandered about on foot, kicking at the ground and brooding and building up nervous impatience. Shelby could tell nobody was going to put up with this for long. Weed hadn’t returned and everybody was speculating about what might have happened to him, but finally Provo put a stop to the guesses:

“You all know damn well what happened to him. He wasn’t smart enough. Burgade set a trap and George walked into it. We won’t be seeing George anymore. Forget him. We didn’t need him anyway.”

Provo stood a little distance from the rest of them. He was in his shirtsleeves, hatless, the wind blowing through his raven-black hair. He had a rifle in both hands, not pointed anywhere in particular but ready for use. “Let’s don’t fool around,” he said. “I know what you’re thinking. A little mutiny in mind. You don’t like sitting around here right out in bare-ass daylight and not doing anything. You want to grab your gold and go. All right, I don’t blame you for that, but we made a bargain and I kept my part of it. I kept you out of the hands of the law. Now you’re going to keep your part of it. You’re going to help me punch Sam Burgade’s ticket for the promised land. As soon as that’s done, you’ll get your gold and you can go.”

Mike Shelby said slowly, “Listen, Zach, I can’t talk for anybody else, but the way I see it, either we get Burgade quick or we forget it. Burgade’s already got one man riding with him, we saw them yesterday. It won’t be but a few days before the law boys bust through that handy Navajo red-tape of yours and come swarmin’ onto the Reservation. Another three, four days up here and we’ll be boxed in like steers in a slaughterhouse. What if Burgade just sits out there and watches us until his reinforcements show up?”

Provo’s iron eyes narrowed when his lips smiled. “I’ll make you a bargain, Mike. All of you. If we don’t bring Burgade down by tomorrow sundown, I’ll point you to the gold and you can go dig it up and be on your way. That sound fair to everybody? Any objections?”

A group of them stood in a knot—Gant, Shiraz, Quesada, Riva. They talked swiftly among themselves. Shelby stood off to the side, near Menendez. Shelby didn’t join in the discussion but he said to Provo, “Satisfies me, I guess.”

Provo said, “Portugee, the rest of you—one other little treat in the package for you. Two or three of you been wanting to have a hack at missy, here.”

Will Gant tugged at his nostril hair. “You fixin’ to let us have her?”

“When the time comes.”

“When’ll that be?” When Gant looked at Susan Burgade his neck swelled with musky desire. She must have been aware of it—she was looking right at him—but there was no break in her dull, indifferent expression.

“It’ll be when I say it’s to be,” Provo said. “Take it or leave it, Will.”

Portugee punched Gant in the arm. “Aw, hell with it, Will. We gone along this far with him.”

Gant sat down slowly on the pile of saddles. He put his hands on his knees. The weight of his huge belly sagged against his thighs. He smiled.

Shelby was standing close by when Menendez walked over and said to Provo, “Listen, Zach, what if Weed ef-fell off some focking cleef last night and bosted his es-stupid neck? What if Burgade never got to him at all? That rain las’ night washed out our tracks for es-sure.”

“You’re saying you’re worried Burgade won’t find us?”

“Ahjess. The sonomabitch, he’s old, Zach, and he’s es-scared, and maybe he’s all focked up and not thinking es-straight.”

Provo laughed without humor. “He’s stuck to us this far like a burr under a blanket. Don’t underestimate Sam Burgade. He’s not a son of a bitch, Menendez, he’s
the
son of a bitch, but that doesn’t make him a fool. He knows where we are. Or if he doesn’t, he’ll find us soon enough.”

“Maybe. But we ain’t got jost a whole lot of time. Why not make es-sure, Zach? Why not es-send him an eenvitation?”

Provo squinted at the sun as if to judge the time. “Maybe you got a point,” he said. He lifted his voice and bellowed: “Hey, all of you. I’m going to fire a few shots. Don’t anybody get nervous. Riva, take care of those horses, see they don’t spook from the noise.”

Gant said, “What the hell?”

The last of his words was drowned in the rolling thunder of Provo’s revolver. He was shooting indifferently into the earth ten yards from his feet. The bullets plowed up spouts of dirt. The noise echoed across the flats. “That ought to bring him,” Provo said mildly, and opened the revolver to plug out the empties and reload.

Provo repeated the noisemaking every hour or so for the rest of the morning and into the early afternoon. Every time he did it, it took Riva and Quesada and Shelby a good ten or fifteen minutes to calm down the hobbled horses. The horses had never been trained to guns. It was a good thing they hadn’t had any running gunfights on these animals.

Susan Burgade sat like a stone until two in the afternoon. Provo spent most of his time scanning the surrounding timber fringe through his spyglass, sitting on the ground and studying each quadrant with great and patient care before he shifted his seat to survey the next. Obviously looking for signs of Burgade.

About two o’clock Provo went over to the girl. Shelby was near enough to hear him say, “Get up and walk around some, missy. You don’t want to get a cramp in your legs from sitting all day.”

Susan didn’t argue. She didn’t even seem to resent the command. She got up and walked back and forth like some kind of mechanism. The wind spun her hair around her face; she combed it away with her fingers and tossed it back with a shake of her head. She had good long legs and a practical stride. There was nothing alive in her face but her eyes, which were full of thinly guarded panic.

Shelby watched her walk back and forth and thought how lovely she was, even with her filthy wrinkled clothes, even with dirt on her face and in her hair. He didn’t much like what Provo was doing. Getting her up and walking her around was a way of telling Sam Burgade the bait was still alive. Provo had to assume Burgade was out there somewhere in the trees, probably watching through field glasses. Maybe he was and maybe he wasn’t. Shelby didn’t like any of it.

Will Gant came along and stopped beside Shelby to watch the girl with his crude sensual leer. He was watching her buttocks as she walked. “Oh, Jesus,” Gant whispered in awe. “Oh, Jesus H. Christ, will you look at that.”

Gant’s breath made Shelby turn away. The sun was high and hot. A trickle of sweat ran out of his armpit, down his ribs.

Along about half past three, Provo suddenly stopped his telescope-watching and got to his feet. “He’s out there,” he said positively. “Over east in those oaks and cedars. I caught a flash, must have been the lens of his glass.”

Shelby said, “What do we do now?”

Portugee Shiraz said, “Hell, we ought to wait for dark and set up a fucking ambush a fly couldn’t get through.”

Shelby was dubious. Night ambushes could work two ways. He turned to speak, but Provo cut him off: “No. Why play at his game? All we need to do is wait for him to come to us.”

Shelby said, “He can wait us out. He’s got more time than we’ve got.”

Provo seemed amused—genuinely amused for the first time since the breakout. “Well, in that case, let’s give him a little entertainment to help him pass the time. Missy? You don’t mind, come along here with me.”

Provo took Susan’s arm. She didn’t shake him off. He steered her up past the horses onto the little rise of grass, only thirty feet beyond camp. “Sit yourself down, missy. You want to wave to your old man over there? Go ahead. Wave to him.”

She sat down and put her hands in her lap. Provo laughed. “Suit yourself.” He turned and lifted his voice. “The old man’s got a box-seat view. Will, Portugee, you two been aching to dip your wicks. Now’s your time. Come on up here and have your fun.”

Stunned and horror-struck, Shelby could feel the sudden anger rising in him, the coming explosion. Heat rushed to his face. “
No!
” he roared. He locked his fist over the grip of his holstered revolver. He stood facing Gant and Portugee.

Provo’s abrasive baritone shot forward. “Let them by, Mike.”

“The hell.” He didn’t look over his shoulder at Provo. “You got no call to do this to her. She never did you any grief.”

“Mike, I won’t mess around with you. You make trouble now and you’ll be mostly a hole.”

The voice was dead-flat. Shelby turned slowly to look. Provo had his rifle across the crook of his elbow, pointed generally at him. Shelby trembled in rage.

Gant and Portugee began to walk up past him. Sunlight raced along Provo’s rifle in a fragmented glitter of darting reflections. Gant and Portugee drew their holster-guns and dropped them on the ground as they walked past; Gant was muttering: “… wipe that touch-me-not look off that high and mighty face of hers.” Gant had a rancid smell. He walked heavily on his heels, undoing his belt. Shelby saw the spittle running from his mouth. He wore an expression of anger rather than lust.

Portugee was breathing fast. His urgent need showed in his trousers. Gant, hot in the face, walked up and dropped his trousers and stood staring at Susan. Gant held his erection in his hand.

Susan sat frozen with dread, sweating, quivering in every rigid limb.

Quesada shouldered past Shelby and went up the slope after them. “I want a piece of this.”

Menendez looked on with sneering contempt. Taco Riva refused to watch: he turned his back and began savagely currying one of the horses. Shelby stood rooted, drenched in sweat and rage.

Will Gant said, “You first, Portugee. I want to watch.”

Portugee didn’t even take down his pants. He just opened his fly and dropped to his knees. He put his hand on Susan’s breast and smiled.

Susan closed her eyes. She sagged to the ground, drawn up like a sick, aged wreck. Shelby couldn’t even tell if she was conscious.

Provo wasn’t even watching them. Provo was watching Shelby. The gun was rock steady in Provo’s hands. Shelby’s fingernails cut into his palms.

Portugee ripped Susan’s shirt open and kneaded her breasts brutally. He was going to take her roughly, as if to reassure himself he was the equal of any other man. He shoved her back against the earth and Shelby heard him say, “Spread her legs out and hold her feet down.” Quesada did it.

Suddenly the girl moved. She made a grab for the knife in Portugee’s belt scabbard. She got it out and whipped it toward his belly.

The tip drew blood. Portugee snapped both hands around her wrist and twisted in opposite directions. The knife fell from her hand and Shelby heard her suck wind in through her teeth. Her head rocked back and her eyes rolled back in her head. Shelby saw her go limp and knew she had lost consciousness.

It didn’t stop them.

Ten