Spur

by Matt Chisholm

  They walked their horses into the yard and the man stepped out of the shade.

  “Sam Spur.”

  Spur grinned; it was Lowe the man he had found being dragged by Brocius and the Box R hands. He didn’t know how far he could trust the man, yet somehow he was relieved.

  “Howdy, Lowe.”

  “Step down and come on inside outa the sun.” He didn’t show any surprise at seeing Inez Municio this far out from town with Spur. The man’s natural politeness wouldn’t permit that. “Nice to see you, Miss Inez.” Spur didn’t miss the fact that Lowe respected the girl. They got down and the Mexican woman came forward. Her strong unsmiling face showed that she was part Indian. She was darker than Inez, handsome in an almost overpowering way.

  Lowe said: “This is my woman. Pilar. She works like a man, fights like a man an’, by God, she eats like a horse.” He said this in English and the woman apparently didn’t understand what he said. Inez spoke to her in Spanish and the woman flashed a quick smile, bidding them enter, they were welcome.

  Lowe caught sight of the white bandage through the hole in Spur’s sleeve and the blood surrounding.

  “Say, you’ve been hit.”

  Spur signed to Inez and she went into the house with Pilar.

  “I’ll give you it straight. We’re on the run.”

  “What? You an’ Inez? Is it? Are you?”

  “It is and we are.”

  “Gomez?”

  “Yeah. Could be he’s headed this way. He’ll be askin’ questions. I wouldn’t of come near you, but Inez was frettin’ over this arm.”

  “She’s right. We’ll take a look at it. Pilar has medicine. I’ll see to the horses. They’ll need corn. Go on in.”

  Pilar gave them a plain meal, but they filled their bellies tight. Then they took a look at Spur’s arm. It was badly inflamed and Pilar drew her breath in at the sight of it. In her rough Spanish, she said: “This is no good. By God, you were right to come here. If you had fooled around longer you could lose that arm.” She said that the bullet must have been unclean, for it had gone through the arm. She found a little whiskey and cleaned it out with that. Then Spur and Lowe took a drink from the bottle. When she had dressed it, they talked. Spur told Lowe as much as Inez knew, that Gomez wanted him for the canyon massacre, that Inez had busted him out of jail. Pilar laughed like a man and clapped her hands together: “You have found yourself a real woman here, señor. Better than the pale Anglo flowers, huh? A real Mexican woman. Once you taste us, you never look at the pale kind again. ¿Es verdad?”

  Lowe laughed and said she was no lady. Inez blushed, but she laughed too. “I hope,” she said, looking at Spur, “what you say is true.”

  “So,” Lowe said, “you don’t tell me where you’re headed, then I can’t talk. If they ask me what happened here, you held a gun on me an’ I gave you supplies.’

  “Thanks,” Spur said.

  “I owe you more than that.”

  “You don’t owe me nothin’,” Spur said, “but you can tell me somethin’. You’re right on the edge of the canyon country here. What do you know about the burro-trains?”

  Suspicion flitted across the man’s face. Pilar looked at her husband with a frown.

  “Why do you ask about the burro-trains?” Lowe demanded.

  “Hell,” Spur said. “I’ve been accused of having a hand in wipin’ ’em out. Wouldn’t you be’ interested if you was in my boots?”

  Pilar slapped her husband’s shoulder with a powerful hand and said in her forceful voice: “Sure, you would. Answer the question, Jaime.”

  Lowe looked worried.

  “They’re smugglers,” he said.

  “I know that. Every man-jack in the country knows that.”

  “The smugglin’s bein’ goin’ on for some time, I reckon. It’s a regular business. But it’s changed lately.”

  “How?”

  “Didn’t you notice nothin’ peculiar when you saw the dead burros?”

  Spur thought. “Can’t say I did. All I wondered was what kind of men could do this thing.”

  “In the old days, trains used to get attacked. Not often, but it happened,” Lowe said. “But they was jumped comin’ north. The last two were jumped goin’ south. The dead burros was facin’ south.”

  Spur gazed at the man in astonishment. He must have been dim-witted not to have noticed that.

  “Why,” he asked, “should they be attacked goin’ back. They wouldn’t be carryin’ a thing. Or would they?” Suddenly, it came to him. The gold he had found by the dead mule. The trains had been taking gold out of the country.

  “You looked at the shambles in the canyon?” he asked.

  Lowe said: “I reckon I found what you found. Gold. So I asked myself who would want to get gold out of the country and over the border. The answer?”

  “Stolen gold.”

  “Right. One bunch of guns steal the gold and send it out of the country, or try to. There’s a whole heap of the stuff and these smugglers are professionals. They know when to move and they know the way. It is not often the Mexican police stop them. Why should they? So a second bunch of gunhands hear about this. You know what happens after that.”

  “My God,” said Spur. He looked at Inez. She was very pale. He reached out a hand and patted hers. “You don’t have to answer this, Jim, but are you mixed up in this in any way.”

  “Yeah.”

  “How?”

  Lowe didn’t answer for a moment. Not because he was reluctant to tell Spur what he wanted to know, but because he was under emotional stress.

  “My brother,” he said finally, “was one of the smugglers. He was good with a gun and the pay was good. The Mexicans wanted first-class protection and Randy thought he could give it to them. Wasn’t afraid of a Goddam thing. I found his body. They nearly cut him in half.”

  “Thanks for telling me, Jim. I can only tell you this. I have to clear myself. I have to find the men behind this. Have you any idea who stole the gold in the first place or who jumped the train?”

  “Not a notion. On the outside this looks like a peaceable country. Aw, sure, Randerson throws his weight around and pushes us little fellers, but that ain’t the same as killin’ fellers from cover.”

  Pilar said in a cold voice: “My cousin was with the smugglers. We waited for him here this trip. He never arrived.”

  Spur stood up. “We’ll be movin’ along. We’re grateful, ma’am, for all your help.”

  “Woman,” Lowe told Pilar, “fix some supplies for these folks. How you on slugs, Sam?”

  “Short.”

  “I’ll fix that.”

  He went and caught up their horses for them, saddled the roan and the mule, tied supplies behind the saddle and tied two gunny sacks from the horns, gave them an extra canteen. For Spur there was a bandolier of shells for the single shot Remington rifle Spur had taken from the sheriff; a box of shells for the pistol. Spur and Lowe shook. Pilar said: “Come back soon, huh?” They rode out, topped the southerly ridge and turned to wave. Spur took a long look around the country and saw no tell-tale dust.

  “That Pilar,” Inez said, “she is a fine woman. And Lowe is a good man.”

  Spur smiled wryly.

  “Maybe he ain’t so good, but I reckon he’ll do to ride the river with.”

  By late afternoon, they were in the maze of canyons, in dry merciless country; Spur trying to remember the details that Jody had given him. He wondered about Jody and Inez, but he didn’t say anything.

  That night they found a little sparse grass for the horses, but no water. Spur saved the corn that Lowe had given him. They didn’t light a fire and ate cold biscuits and bacon washed down with water. Spur’s arm was throbbing like all the furies, but when Inez asked him about it, he said it was just fine. They lay together in the cave and for a short while Spur forgot why he was here. There was nothing but the girl and himself in the darkness. She offered herself to him for the first time, tender in the beginning and as hotly
as he could have wished after that. When they were satiated, they lay in each other’s arms silently. For the first time in his life, Spur knew utter contentment. After a while he spoke and knew that he was no longer a loner. He wanted to share his thoughts with Inez.

  “This ain’t much of a start for you, honey,” he said.

  She pushed the hair back from his forehead.

  “Could you ask for anything more at this moment?”

  “No.”

  “Then it is the same with me.”

  He kissed her gently. He had never kissed a woman before without having wanted her.

  “You don’t know too much about me,” he said.

  “I know all I need to know.”

  “I’ve been on the run mostly for around five years. That’s finished. Do you believe me?”

  “Yes.”

  “You don’t know why I’m here, in this country.”

  “No.”

  “Jim Lowe wasn’t the only man who lost a brother with the smugglers.”

  She started slightly in his arms.

  He went on: “I had a younger brother. Ben. Good kid, but a little wild. Maybe he copied me. Could be. Which puts quite a load on me. Maybe you could say I killed him.” She started to protest but he shushed her. “He went along with the smugglers; did a couple of trips with them, invested a little money with them. But it wasn’t business with Ben - it was the excitement. Well, he’s dead an’ I couldn’t even find his body out there in that shambles.”

  “So you have come here to find the men who did it?”

  “Right.”

  “I have no right to ask you to forget it. I would like you to forget it with all my heart, but I know you cannot.”

  “First off I came to find Ben’s murderers. Now I have to find them so I can clear myself.” He wouldn’t tell her any more, not about him and Jody. That would come out later, but for now she had best not know. Without knowing she could let out the truth. If she didn’t know, she couldn’t talk. The old habit of keeping a corner of his mind cold was still with him.

  They slept in each other’s arms till dawn. too, I reckon. Could be mighty soon it could be him or me and neither won’t pull his shots.”

  Gomez nodded, but he didn’t look fully satisfied. He turned as the rest of the posse came pounding up. He mounted and led the way west.

  In the middle of the afternoon, they found where Spur had camped in the hills, for he had made no secret of the fact that he had lit a fire.

  “Christ,” a posseman said with disgust, “they stopped right here an’ drank hot coffee. What wouldn’t I give for a cuppa hot coffee.”

  Gomez didn’t take the hint, but followed the tracks that now turned south down the line of the hills and came as he guessed he would to the malpais that stretched out before the start of the canyon country. The sign finished here. The solid rock sheet was a mile or more wide and Spur and the girl could have left it for the badland beyond anywhere. They all hunted around, some men got down on their hands and knees, but they could find nothing.

  Rick said: “Spur tied bits of blanket over the animals’ hoofs. Old trick of his. You won’t find a damn scratch.”

  “Cross over,” Gomez said. “We’ll pick up sign on the other side.”

  “Yeah,” said a man, “an’ lose half a day.”

  That was Frank Benson, Gomez shot him a look. An ungainly man who rode like a sack of horse-shit, apparently slow, but a man to be watched.

  They clattered noisily across the malpais, going slowly up the slight gradient, the horses slipping every now and then with their iron shoes on the sometimes glassy surface. Men swore. Gomez saw that he wasn’t the only man getting rattled. Several of them had had enough. They didn’t mind a little hardship with profit at the end of it, but they were having a tough time in the saddle and at the end of it all was Sam Spur and not a man there had any illusions about the sort of thing that could happen when a man like that was cornered. They had heard from Rick all about Spur. And when a man like Rick rated a man high, that meant he was poison.

  The far side of the malpais was a tumble of rocks and brush, bad for the horses. Men dismounted and scattered out as they looked for sign. Gomez and Rick together worked their way forward through the rocks and brush till they found some comparatively clear ground and searched there. It seemed obvious that a man in a hurry would come this way; but after an hour’s search, Gomez began to think that Spur wasn’t in such a hurry and had gone the way that would conceal his passing. But the men came back from their search along the edge of the malpais and declared that they could find nothing.

  The night dropped down on them and Gomez resignedly agreed to make camp. The men lit fires without asking what he thought about the wisdom of doing so. Hell, they argued, they were in a strong position, Spur was on the run. Rick didn’t say a thing - he knew Sam might be breathing down their necks right this minute, girl or no girl with him. They had the hot coffee they pined for and cooked bacon and beans. After that they rolled into their blankets and slept. Gomez kept one man on guard. Rick didn’t think it was enough.

  Before he slept, Gomez said to Rick: “They will be saddled before dawn. We don’t waste a minute. Not one single minute. Spur has to be caught tomorrow. I feel it in my bones, hijo -things are not good. We are in trouble, you and me.”

  Rick said: “Maybe you’re right at that.” He knew what Gomez was feeling, because he felt the same. Spur was a rare one, a man with a capacity to stay alive. Over the years he had shown himself able to stay alive when other men died, he had his own kind of luck. Rick believed in luck as do all gamblers. And Rick was the most daring gambler of all, for he gambled with a gun and his life. He thought about his wife and a black foreboding came over him. For some reason he had the hunch that he would never see her again, never again touch her firm young flesh, never again see her smiling at him across the table. The thought made him sick.

  Chapter Eight

  Another day, another cave.

  Inez lay sleeping. Spur sat up, head muzzy with sleep, wondering if his hearing was playing tricks. There came whispering into the cave a soft prolonged shush of sound.

  When the truth came, his head cleared and he was wide awake. The Spur luck had stayed good. He got to his feet and walked to the mouth of the cave, heading for the dawn’s cold light, hearing the distinct sound of rain now. It swept down the canyon in an almost solid sheet, bouncing violently from the rocks, starting flash floods here and there; above the clouds bunched darkly.

  He squatted, thinking.

  What the hell did he do now? He could stick to the schedule Jody had laid down for him, but would that get them any further forward in their intentions? He mustn’t fail Jody - time would be wasted if Jody wandered aimlessly around this country. The only good thing in sight was the rain that would wipe out any sign that could guide Gomez to the fugitives. He smiled. Jody must have foretold rain, for there were two slickers in their rolls.

  He walked back down the cave, kneeled by Inez and woke her with a kiss. She came warmly out of sleep into his arms.

  “Time we was movin’, honey. It’s rainin’.”

  “Raining? That’s good, isn’t it?”

  “Wipe out our tracks. But it don’t make ridin’ much fun.”

  They ate together and then he made up their rolls, leaving the slickers. He put his on and went out to catch up the horse and the mule. The rain hit him in a solid sheet and almost blinded him, beating down noisily on his hat and the fish. At first, he couldn’t find the animals, but the roan whickered and he came on them sheltering under an overhang. That pleased him, for they were fairly dry and could take a blanket and saddle. He fetched the gear from the cave and saddled and bridled them both. Inez came out of the cave, lost in her slicker, her head covered with her shawl. She shrieked a little as the rain hit her and the sound was strangely feminine in these surroundings. For a moment, they sheltered under the overhang with the animals. He put his mouth close to her ear and asked; “Do
n’t you have any family at all, but your father?”

  She looked surprised. “Why, of course.”

  “Who?”

  “My uncle, Enrique. My father’s brother.”

  “Where’s he at?”

  “He has his own place, a ranch in the old Mexican style. San Patricio.”

  “How far from here?”

  She thought a moment. “A day’s ride maybe.”

  “What sort of an hombre is this Uncle Enrique?”

  She smiled up at him perkily. “A fine man. An uncle you would dream of. Full of good stories and kindness. Still chases the girls, but he loves horses better, I think.”

  Spur had to laugh. “Sounds good.” He made his decision. He couldn’t move with this girl around him. Everything he did he related to her. His fear for her tied him like rawhide. “I’m takin’ you there.”

  She looked startled.

  “No,” she said, “I am with you and I stay. This is my place.”

  “Honey, I can’t move with you on my mind. I have to have you safe. Can’t you see that?” Hell, he had never begged a woman before in his life. “You’d be safe at your uncle’s.”

  “Yes, I would be safe there, but I would not be happy.”

  “Right now, I’d ruther you was safe. Please.”

  She clung to his hand. “Must I, Sam?”

  “I reckon.”

  She nodded. “All right, I’ll go. But you must stay safe and come to me quickly.”

  “A few days and this will be all over. I give you my word.”

  He helped her onto the mule and he mounted the roan. They moved off down canyon keeping close to the wall as a shelter against the driving rain.

  Chapter Nine