The Complete Western Stories of Elmore Leonard

by Elmore Leonard

  "They're peaceful." It was Sellers who said this. "There hasn't been a war party around here in over a year."

  Corsen looked at him. "They're twenty miles off the reservation."

  "They've been known to wander, but when they do, they have to be taught a lesson. That was your trouble, Corsen--too easy on them. Verbiest, you come along with me and see how it's done."

  Corsen said quietly, "Bonito doesn't learn very fast."

  "Bonito?" Sellers showed surprise. "He's down in the Madres."

  "He wasn't this morning when I talked to him."

  "And you're just now telling me?"

  "I was fired."

  Fisher glanced out the door again, then back, his eyes stopping on Sellers. "Have you got something to do with them?"

  Sellers did not answer, but Teachout said, "He's with the Bureau of Indian Affairs."

  "Then this is your party, mister," Fisher said, looking at Sellers.

  "I'm not obligated to confront known hostiles. That's common sense."

  Fisher moved out of the doorway. "You don't have a choice. Get out there and find out what they want." He waved the long-barreled pistol.

  "Come on, all of you except the women. They stay here."

  In the yard Corsen glanced back once at the two outlaws in the doorway. Then they had reached the adobe wall and his gaze swung back to the five Mescaleros who had reined in a hundred paces beyond the wall.

  Bonito was a pony's length ahead of the others. He did not resemble the man Corsen had talked to earlier. The flop-brimmed hat was gone and now his coarse face was paint-streaked--a line of ochre from ear to ear crossing the bridge of his nose, another over his chin. His headband was yellow, bright against long hair glistening with oil. Only one thing about him was the same--the Maynard across his lap.

  Behind him were Bil-Clin, chief at the Pinaleno Agency, Bil-Clin's son, Sunshine, and two other Indians. All four were armed with oldmodel carbines.

  Corsen's eyes remained on the Mescaleros, but he said to Sellers, "Let's see you go out and teach them a lesson."

  Sellers did not reply at first. He kept his eyes on the five Apaches, waiting, expecting them to make a move. Then he said, "All right. Ask him what he wants."

  Corsen hesitated. He wanted to make it hard for Sellers, not offer any assistance, but there was Katie and the others to think of. He boosted himself over the wall, then motioned to the Apaches to come on.

  They moved forward, Bonito still in the lead, and when they were less than ten feet from the wall Bonito raised his arm and they stopped there. "Cor-sen, we speak to each other again."

  "But this time not by accident."

  "You told me before that you were not with this one now." Bonito's eyes shifted to Sellers.

  "These are not ordinary circumstances," Corsen answered. "Tell me why you are here and I'll relate it to him."

  Bonito waited, then nodded toward Sellers. "There is the reason."

  "What would you have me tell him?"

  "Tell him that he will come with us, until pesh-e-gar--many of them--are brought here tomorrow."

  "Rifles!"

  "Enough for as many of us that could stand in line from here to the house there. And many bullets for the pesh-e-gar. This one"--he nodded again to Sellers--"will remain with us until they are brought and the ones who bring them depart again. Then he will be released and my people will go with me from Pinaleno across the Bravos and there we will fight the N akai-yes. "

  Corsen turned to the others. "He says he needs guns to make war on the Mexicans." Then to Bonito. "You would, of course, not use the guns on this side of the Bravos."

  Bonito nodded solemnly.

  "The guns would have to be acquired at Fort Thomas. How do you know the Army would let you have them? Perhaps this man isn't worth a hundred rifles."

  Bonito's face barely moved as he spoke. "Killing this one would be a reward in itself."

  Corsen paused. "What if he refuses to go with you?"

  "At Pinaleno you would find only the women and the children." He turned his head, indicating the dense pines of the higher slope. "The warriors are here, Cor-sen. You are six. Then two men in the house and two women. If he does not come with us, then we will come into your house there--"

  Corsen concealed his surprise. "You observe our number well."

  Bonito said, "I have been here longer than a full day, waiting for this time. And you see I did not count the Mexican man. He has agreed to remain with us until this one comes to take his place."

  Corsen glanced at Billy Teachout. "He says they've got Delgado."

  "Oh-my-God--"

  Sellers moved closer to Corsen.

  "What else does he want?"

  "He wants you."

  "Me!"

  "We get you back in exchange for about a hundred rifles," Corsen added. "I don't know what makes him think you're worth that many."

  "Tell him," Sellers said evenly, "that if he doesn't get back to Pinaleno by sundown he'll be shot. Along with Bil-Clin and his boy."

  "Pinaleno has moved here," Corsen answered. "The braves are up in the pines. If you don't go with them they'll swarm down all over us."

  "They wouldn't get across the wall," Sellers sneered. "There aren't a dozen rifles among the pack of them."

  Trouble at Rindo s Station "You forgot, we don't have any."

  Sellers was silent. Then, "All right. When the stage doesn't arrive at Gila Ford this evening they'll know something's wrong and send help."

  Corsen said, "There are three men at the Gila Ford Station."

  "Then they'll get more help!" Sellers said angrily.

  "In what--three or four days?"

  "What's the matter?" Sellers taunted. "You scared?"

  Corsen ignored the remark. "What about Delgado?"

  Sellers shrugged. "One thing at a time. Tell him we'll go back and think it over, and let him know."

  Corsen told him, and as they were turning to go he looked at BilClin. "Now the chief of the Mescaleros follows the words of a bandit."

  Bil-Clin shifted his eyes and did not reply.

  Chapter Four.

  KATIE CAME OUT from the kitchen, edging by Buz, who was in the doorway, and went to Corsen. She had served them food and had now finished washing the dishes. Corsen was at the front window, looking off to the east, watching for a movement to change the monotony of the plain. She stood close to him and he asked in a low voice, "How's Ygenia?"

  "She's praying."

  He wanted to say something consoling that she could take to Ygenia, but there was nothing. The Apaches had Delgado. They would keep him until Sellers turned himself over to them. And that was not likely to happen.

  KATIE'S FACE was close to his. Serious, searching eyes repeating the question he could not answer. She had been in the kitchen most of the time and she did not know all that had happened since the men had returned. Fisher was in the doorway, a silhouette against the faint outside dusk. Buz was by the kitchen door, holding his gun on the others at the bar end of the room, keeping an eye on Billy Teachout, who was in the kitchen watching the corral and yard. "Ross, why doesn't he force Sellers to go to the Indians?"

  "Fisher would have to shoot him first," Ross said quietly. "This business about the rifles is the long chance. Bonito would like to have them, but I think he'd just as soon have Sellers--for one long day. Sellers knows it. You can't force him to go. No matter what he's stolen, he's a white man. Handing him to Bonito wouldn't be right."

  "How long will he wait, Ross?"

  "Bonito? He'll send us a message tonight, most likely. And if we don't act on it he'll come at sunup."

  "The outlaw would have to give you guns then," Katie said.

  Corsen nodded. "He's holding off as long as he can, waiting for a miracle. I feel kind of sorry for him. He can't fight off Bonito with just one man, but if he gives us guns he's through. He loses either way."

  They were silent then, standing close to each other.

  Corsen'
s gaze would come in from the dim plain and go about the room.

  Fisher, in the doorway, glanced now and then at Sellers. You have to give him credit, Corsen thought. Sitting on the edge of his nerves until the last possible minute.

  Buz looks hard, but he leans on Fisher. He could never do this alone. They thought they had something good, and it turns out to be the worst jackpot they could fall into. Let them stew in it.

  Billy and Ernie are men who know patience because they do more than just live here: they're part of the country. They'll sit through something like this and not show it.

  Verbiest is afraid to open his mouth. His voice would give him away.

  He's so scared, he can taste it.

  And Sellers. He'll never believe he's through--and maybe he isn't.

  He's got his life at stake, plus a government post and two thousand dollars in government silver. The money must have come from selling agency stores. He'll scheme, confident that he'll think of something to pull him out of this.

  Bonito has nothing to lose. With a hundred warriors, and nothing to lose, he will probably win.

  Strips of gray light crossed the room from the doorway and the windows. Outside, the moonlight showed the station yard in dim, unmoving stillness, bounded by the adobe wall, a pale line against the darkness beyond. Corsen looked out of the window again, then moved toward Fisher. He saw the dull gleam of a pistol barrel bear on him and he said, "Ed. A word with you."

  "Come ahead," Fisher said quietly.

  "It'll be dark in a few minutes," Corsen said. "You'd better give us our guns."

  "I'll take my chances for a while."

  "You won't be able to watch us in the dark--and you're not going to use a lamp with Bonito outside."

  Fisher was silent. Then, "I'm trying to think it out," he said wearily.

  "You don't have a choice," Corsen told him. "Those are Mescaleros.

  You're old enough to know how they behave when they're up."

  "No, I don't. Not the way I know what would happen if you people had guns. Buz and I would turn our backs once--"

  "All right," Corsen said. "Then give back all the money you took."

  "Tell them I was just kiddin', eh?"

  "I'm thinking about two women being here," Corsen said, "and a hundred Mescaleros out there. Make up your mind one way or the other--but do it before it's too late."

  THE SOUND CAME to them gradually. It came faintly, growing out of the darkness, at first a muffled sound, now the unmistakable clop of a horse moving at a slow walk. A chair scraped in the room. Fisher's voice rasped, "Quiet!"

  In the stillness Fisher cocked his head, listening, then whispered close to Corsen's cheek, "It's stopped."

  Corsen waited. "At the gate," he said.

  "It's a trick." Fisher was talking to himself. "A damn Apache trick."

  "Maybe it is." Corsen paused. "And maybe it isn't, Ed," he said quietly. "If I was to go out there, would you hold your gun that way?"

  "You're crazy."

  "Let's find out." Corsen pushed through the screen door without a sound and was moving across the yard. He walked unhurriedly, because if Bonito was behind the wall, running would not make a difference; the yard was open, and gray with moonlight. He reached the gate and stood with his hand on the heavy latch. Fisher watched him tensely. He felt someone close to him and glanced to see the girl. Billy Teachout was behind her. They looked at Fisher, then out toward the gate, and they did not speak.

  In the darkness someone said, "What is it?" excitedly.

  At a window Ernie Ball's voice hissed. "Shhhhh!"

  They watched Corsen lift the iron latch. Then the shadowy figure pushed against the gate and the squeak of the hinges was a mournful screech with no other sounds in the night. Corsen went through the opening, and for the moment he was out of sight Katie held her breath.

  Then the gate swung wide and he was there again, leading the larger, darker shadow of a horse. A rider was atop the horse, head down, swaying gently with the movement of the horse's shoulders and flanks.

  Corsen closed the gate and came on, holding the horse close under the muzzle by a hackamore.

  "Who is it?" from inside the doorway.

  Fisher was in the yard now. He looked at Corsen, then toward the rider, questioningly.

  Corsen went to the rider, raised his arms, and said gently, "Come, viejo. " The small figure toppled hesitantly, stiffly, into Corsen's arms.

  He heard someone behind him say, "Delgado--"

  They carried him inside to a bedroom and eased him down onto the bed. And when the lamp was lighted next to the bed, no one recognized Delgado.

  "Mary, Virgin and Mother," Ygenia said, close to Delgado's cheek, kneeling on the floor and stroking her hand gently over his head.

  When Katie came in with a basin of water, she mopped his face, washing the blood away. She moved the cloth over his eyes very gently and when she took it away she gasped and uttered the name of the Mother of God again.

  Delgado's face was knife scarred, small marks crisscrossing his cheeks. His nose was broken, that was evident, and his right eye was no longer in the socket.

  His head came off the blanket, then fell back as the thin lines of his face tightened. He said, almost inaudibly, "Ross."

  "I'm here," Corsen said close to his cheek. "Don't talk now. Say it in the morning."

  Delgado breathed. "Bonito did this to me. There were others who beat at me and stuck me with their knives, but it was Bonito who did this." His hand waved close to his face.

  "As I gathered the fresh team, one of them broke away and I went after it afoot because this one was a friend and would come if I approached with gentleness. But this time he went a greater distance.

  When he was near the pinon he stopped and let me approach, and at that moment the barbarians came from out of the pines. Almost as if this friend had lured me to them--"

  CORSEN SAID GENTLY, "Tell this in the morning."

  Delgado turned his head, opening his left eye. "If you are here to listen." He waved his hand again. "Bonito did this to me. He impressed upon me that when he comes he will take the remainder of my sight. I would not like that to happen. He said that you had failed him. Now he will enter this house with the coming of the sun. . . ."

  Silence then. Corsen rose as Ygenia began to stroke Delgado's head.

  Fisher appeared in the doorway.

  "Your guns are on the table," he said quietly.

  Chapter Five.

  CORSEN PUSHED HIS gun belt lower on his hips and picked up the Winchester leaning against the support post. He heard the screen door close softly and peered into the darkness around the coach which they had pushed into the stable shed. A figure was moving along the front of the house toward him. It was Fisher. "There better be two of us out here. The east side of the house is a blind spot. And when the shootin' starts," he added, "I don't hanker to be in the same room with that thievin' government man. He could swing his barrel two feet and let go, easy as not." He looked at Corsen's carbine and holstered pistol. "You had them out here?" "With the saddle," Corsen said.

  "Where's your horse? It was here."

  "I took it around to the corral. I'd rather have it run off than hit."

  They rolled straw bales from the back wall of the shed to the front and piled them three high for some protection. There were no doors on the stable shed. It was built out from the station house four wagons wide. Ernie's coach was in the first stall nearest the house. Corsen went to the small window at the far end of the shed and Fisher stopped near him, looking out into the night.

  "Might they come before dawn?"

  "I've never heard of it," Corsen answered. "But don't put that down in your book as a rule. Bonito might have told Delgado dawn to put us off guard."

  "That was something, what he did to him."

  Corsen said quietly, "Delgado was lucky. Bonito's showing off. He wants us to think he's got full control of the situation. Even to letting a prisoner go, knowing he'll
get him back again."

  "He could convince me."

  "I'm not so sure he has." Corsen paused. "If I could talk to BilClin--I don't see how he could help but resent this renegade's coming up and taking over. If we could get Bil-Clin alone. . . ."

  Fisher said nothing.

  Sometimes when you wait, the time goes slow, Corsen thought, but now it is going fast, so fast it isn't time anymore, but something else. That was a month ago that I told Katie I would come and get her. And Billy was surprised because he hadn't known what was going on. It seems like a month, but it was yesterday afternoon. Now he pictured himself with Katie at night, her face in soft shadows. She was in the room with Ygenia and Delgado, and a pistol. The door was bolted. If they broke through the door, then she would fire the pistol until it was empty. Then, in a timeless time she would pray. Pray that it would not take long for Ygenia and for herself. She would not use the gun on herself to make it quick.

  Even if he had asked her to, she would not. She doesn't even show this.

  There may be a little of it in her eyes, but it isn't in her voice. You're lucky, Ross. But how can you be lucky and unlucky at the same time?

  But now more time had passed and there was an orange streak in the east and the sky was no longer full dark, and suddenly shadows were coming over the wall. Shadows that were the shapes of men, but without sound and without the gleam of weapons. They dropped and clung close to the wall. Now some were coming forward!

  "Oh, my God!" Fisher had seen them.

  From the house, "They're coming!" and the hurried report of a rifle. A pause, now a staccato of rifle fire and suddenly the station yard erupted into wild sound--whining gun reports and the full-throated scream of the Mescalero war cry and the whinnying of horses.

  Down the carbine barrel Corsen squinted at three warriors coming zigzagging toward the shed. Then the outside two were out of vision and he fired. The Mescalero fell in his tracks. As he levered, the other two tuned abruptly and were back to the wall as he aimed again. One of them was on the wall, and he brought the barrel up an inch and squeezed the trigger, and the warrior dropped to the other side. The third one was over, out of sight. And as suddenly as the firing had started, it stopped.