by Neal Barrett
Howie tripped over a box of trash, cursed, and kicked it aside. Glass and broken pottery clattered across the board floor; the noise brought Klu stomping halfway down the stairs. The big man glared at him.
“Where the hell you been, boy?”
“None of your godamn business,” Howie told him.
Klu muttered something to himself. “Well jest turn your little ass ’round and get it back where you come from. Pardo wants you to haul out to Kearney’s right quick and fetch Yargo. He’s got a deal goin’ on them mounts.”
Howie didn’t look at him. His foot had gone right through the trash box and left him with grease clear to his ankles. He squatted on a crate and scraped meat tallow from his boot with a stick.
“Listen,” said Klu, “you hear me?”
“I hear you, but I ain’t in no hurry to go horse ridin’ in the hot sun. Reckon you better get someone else.”
Klu seemed to think about that. “He didn’t say no one else. He said you.”
Howie stood and faced him. “It don’t make no difference who runs out to Kearney’s. Ben Yargo’ll be dirt crawlin’ drunk and ain’t going to have no idea who come after him.”
Klu just stood there, looking at him. Howie could hardly see his eyes; they were tiny black points lost under heavy brows. Klu was wearing dirty cotton pants and no shirt. The tangled hair from his beard flowed into the thick mat that covered his powerful chest and shoulders. “Well,” he growled finally, “Pardo said you was to do it.”
“I ain’t going to do it, though,” Howie explained flatly. “So it’ll have to be Lew or Jake or whoever.”
Klu’s face reddened. His big fists tightened and, for a moment, Howie thought he might leap right off the stairs. Instead, he shot Howie a look of open disgust and thundered down the steps and past him. Howie heard his great voice roar at Lew, then the man scrambled off the porch for his mount.
Even a few weeks before it might have been a different story. Klu could still squeeze the life out of Howie—that hadn’t changed. But Howie wasn’t the same anymore and Klu seemed to sense it. He’d seen it long before anyone else, including Pardo and Howie himself. There was more man there now and less boy. He was quick with a knife and better than Pardo with a pistol.
Klu didn’t fear him—there wasn’t anything moving the big man was scared to tackle. But Klu was closer to the earth than most men; he took a lot more stock in things he smelled on the air or felt in his gut than he did in the thoughts that came to his head. And the thing he knew about Howie was that you’d likely be dead about one fine hair before you had any idea Howie meant to put a neat little hole between your eyes. More than that, he’d let Howie have his way this time because he was certain Howie himself had no idea just when he’d decide to kill a man.
Howie checked his boots again and glanced disdainfully about the room. He was dead sure what his mother would’ve said about Pardo’s Keep, and she’d be close to right, too. Anyone who didn’t know better would figure stock lived there instead of people. He hitched his belt and moved up the stairs to his room:
“Well, hey now.”
The voice turned him around. Kari Ann stood against the kitchen door, watching him. She was a tall girl, slim and lean as a sapling, with skin as sun-dark as Howie’s. Her hair, wet from washing, hung in black strands about her shoulders. The man’s shirt she wore near swallowed her up, and she made no effort to keep buttons where they belonged. Howie pretended not to notice there was nothing under the shirt except Kari Ann. Kari saw him and gave him a look of quiet amusement.
“Baby, old Klu is going to jump you good one of these days. You know?”
“He might.”
Kari made a face and laughed to herself.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing.”
“Well, what?”
“Nothing!”
Howie scowled and muttered to himself. “Anything you say ever mean somethin’?”
“Sometimes.”
“When? I don’t reckon I recall.”
Kari pursed her lips and frowned thoughtfully. “Leeet’s see now…”
Howie shook his head and turned up the stairs. Kari laughed and followed, then passed him, long legs flying. In his room, she dropped down on his straw mattress and crossed her ankles. From her shirt pocket she took a small piece of machined metal and a file no longer than her fingers. Holding the piece close to her eyes, she turned it in the sunlight, studying every angle intently. Finally, she ran the file over the tiny plane for a full minute, stopped, turned the piece slightly, then started on another. She worked in quick, short strokes. The frown lines deepened between her eyes and her tongue darted between white teeth to worry the corners of her mouth. When she was satisfied, she laid the file aside and started polishing the piece carefully with the corner of her shirt. The harder she polished, the more the shirt revealed of Kari Ann. Kari didn’t notice, or care to.
Howie groaned to himself and looked away. He dipped his head in the clay basin in the corner of his room and scrubbed his face vigorously. He didn’t dare turn around and face Kari now. She’d know right off what was happening to him.
Any other right-thinking girl’d get all excited and start crawling all over him, he thought grimly. Not Kari Ann, though. She’d likely roll over and kick her legs in the air and laugh herself sick. Howie knew plenty of girls in Roundtree—and he didn’t have trouble getting them in bed, either. All except Kari. Who lived right under the same roof and wouldn’t let him do anything but look. And hell, she let everybody do that. Kari didn’t seem to care one way or the other whether she was neck deep in a fancy dress or half-ass naked.
Just looking drove him plumb crazy, but he couldn’t stop. He’d never known a girl like Kari. She didn’t talk like anyone else and she sure didn’t do anything girls were supposed to do. Kari flat belonged under a man, but he was certain there wasn’t anyone in Roundtree getting to her. Looking was about all he’d ever get, he decided, unless he plain took what he wanted—and there’d be hell to pay for that. Pardo didn’t give a damn who laid who, but he’d kill Howie or anyone else who hurt Kari or scared her off. Pardo needed Kari Ann and wasn’t about to lose her; because no matter what she looked like, Kari knew more about guns than any man within five-hundred miles of Roundtree. She could take any weapon apart, fix it, and put it back together. If the right part couldn’t be found, why, she’d just squint up her eyes funny and figure out what ought to go where something wasn’t, and make one up out of her head.
It sure wasn’t proper work for a girl, but she was damn good at it, Howie had to admit. Even Klu and Jigger, who didn’t have much use for females of any kind, gave Kari a grudging respect.
No one knew where she came from, or how she learned all there was to know about weapons, and nobody much cared. Except Howie. And he wanted desperately to know everything there was to know about her. Most of all, he wanted to get her in bed so bad it hurt just to think about it.
“What kind of thing is that you’re working on?” he asked her. The sun from the window had dried her hair. It looked all fuzzy and bright around the edges.
Without looking up, Kari said, “You know anything about trigger assemblies for the .38 calibre revolver?” “No,” Howie admitted.
“Then it won’t do much good to tell you what I’m working on, ’cause that’s what it is.”
Howie felt himself redden. Kari looked up and winked mischievously. “Howie, you going to stand there all day?” She patted the bed beside her. “It’s your room. You can sit down whenever you want.”
“I’m… just fine here,” Howie lied.
Kari studied him with one eye. “You’re standing, because you like to look at me,” she announced gravely. “And you can see things better standing up. That’s the real reason, Howie. Why don’t you just say so? I don’t mind you looking… just don’t stand there pretending you’re doing something else.”
Howie swallowed. “You… make it hard for a man no
t to look, Kari.”
“Do I? How do I do that?”
“You know damn well what you do. You just nearly… show everything ’bout half the time.”
“Nearly everything?” She chewed her lip thoughtfully. “Is that what you want, Howie?
To see everything?” She loosened a button or two and let the shirt fall off her shoulders and down her arms. “There. There’s everything.”
Howie’s mouth came open. “Kari…My God, Kari!” He stared in wonder at the slim, almost fragile body, the perfect little breasts tipped with amber. His throat went dry and he ached so much he could hardly stand it. He let his eyes touch every part of her. He was sure he could circle his hands clear around the tiny waist and the small, flat belly just the color of honey. All he wanted to do was gather up that slight bundle of nakedness and hold it tight against him forever.
Kari watched him and he could see where her eyes were going. “Howie, you want to lay me something awful, don’t you?”
“More’n anything, Kari!”
“Hmmmm.” She put one small fist under her chin and studied him coolly. “Yeah, I guess you do. I wondered, ’cause you never asked… all you do is look.”
“Can… can I, then?” He could hardly believe what was happening.
“No,” she said absently, “you can’t, Howie.” She slipped the shirt back over her shoulders and picked up the metal part and the file.
“God damn, Kari.” Howie’s legs turned to water. “You can’t do things like that. It ain’t right!”
Kari ignored him for a long moment, then looked up curiously. “I was wondering, Howie. Why do you stay here with Pardo? You don’t really belong in Roundtree, you know?”
“Huh?” Howie stared at her. “What… what you askin’ something like that for?”
“Just wondering,” she shrugged. She held the part up to the sun and squinted at it. “Why don’t you kill him, Howie? You want to. Bet you can just about taste it.”
“What do you want to do,” he said harshly, “watch?”
Kari put her hands in her lap and considered. “I don’t know… I don’t guess I ever thought about it. Not really. I might, though….”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Lew Renner didn’t come back that evening from his ride out to Yargo’s. It was only an eight-mile trip each way over easy country and there was no reason to spend the night. Unless, someone suggested, Ben Yargo had gotten Lew drunk on white corn and they’d both forgotten about the horse deal.
Pardo was mildly annoyed, but said nothing. He had more on his mind than trading a few mounts, what with the big gun deal with Hacker underway. In the morning, though, he sent Klu and Jigger out to look—riders were easy enough to come by, but a good horse was something else again.
They found Lew in a dry creek not three miles from town. There were cold embers nearby, and bootprints that didn’t belong to Lew. From the looks of him they’d started at his feet and worked up, using the fire to heat their blades. They quit carving just above the waist, and didn’t leave much below. Lew had either died on them, or they’d found out what they were after.
“Most likely he just give out,” suggested Jigger. “Whoever done it sure weren’t much good.”
Klu and Jigger carried the body into the front room of the Keep to show Pardo. Jigger touched it scornfully with his boot and shook his head. He thought the whole business had been handled badly. There were a lot better ways to make a man talk and most of them didn’t take all night, either.
Pardo didn’t say anything. He studied the body thoughtfully a moment, then took off for town, taking Klu and Jigger with him. Howie helped bury Lew back of the Keep. The day was turning hot and the job was done quickly without ceremony.
The minute it was over Howie climbed to his room and shut the door behind him. He couldn’t forget that it might easily have been him out there under the hard earth, if he hadn’t stood his ground with Klu. He thought again about maybe telling Pardo of his encounter with the stranger. For certain, the skinny little man was in some way responsible for what had happened to Lew.
To hell with it, he decided. Pardo had gotten the message plain enough: someone was pushing him hard, and wanted him to know it.
Howie dozed through the whole morning, ignoring the stifling heat rising off the plains. When he woke near noon he felt worse than ever. His body was covered with sour sweat and his head was full of dark dreams. Lew Renner was there, staring up blindly out. of death. Only sometimes it was Cory’s face on Lew’s ruined body. Once, he was on a bright beach with Kari Ann, and he knew right off it was Silver Island, because his sister was there—only it wasn’t his sister as he’d ever seen her. She was Kari’s age, a breathtaking young girl with swelling breasts and laughing eyes. Her face, though, was just the way he remembered. When he looked at her, Howie was ashamed of what he was thinking, but she winked at him mischievously and slipped Kari’s oversized shirt off her shoulders—and showed him the raw, ugly wounds on Lew Renner’s body…
In the kitchen, he poured cold water over his head, scrubbing his chest and arms until he could stand to smell himself. He was hungry, but there was nothing in the cabinets worth eating. He wandered through the main room and out to the porch. There was no one around except Harlie and Jake, and neither had anything to say. He could go upstairs; see if Kari was in her room…
He cast the thought quickly aside, and was angry at himself for even thinking about her. It was mostly her fault he felt as bad as he did. Getting him all worked up and everything, then just leaving him hanging. A man couldn’t take stuff like that, not without going plumb crazy. And if Kari didn’t know what a girl was supposed to do when she took her clothes off, there were plenty of others in Roundtree who did. He’d found two or three without any trouble and they damn sure knew what he wanted. And by sunup, when he’d dragged himself back to the Keep, he swore wearily that he didn’t ever want to even see a female again.
That had been last night, though. He could hardly remember the girls in Roundtree, but Kari was right back in the middle of his head again.
Lordee, what was a man to do, he thought miserably. What if he didn’t ever get her, what then? That wouldn’t happen, though, he promised himself. He’d have her. He just had to.
Pardo’s arrival tore the lazy afternoon wide open. Harsh war cries shook the Keep’s foundation and brought armed, half-dressed men stumbling down the narrow stairs. Pardo, Klu, and Jigger grinned up at them from under a ponderous collection of crates, casks, cotton sacks, and crockery jugs. The three looked more like traveling junkmen than seasoned raiders, and it was plain they’d sampled the clay jugs more than once along the way.
Pardo took one look at the bewildered faces and threw back his head and howled. Klu and Jigger near fell to the floor.
“Godamn if you all ain’t somethin’ else!” Pardo roared. His smile suddenly faded and he scowled fiercely at the crew. “Why, we could’ve burned the place down and wouldn’t one of you woke up to see the fire! Ain’t I taught any of you nothin’? Jerry? Bo? How ’bout you, Jon?”
No one spoke for a long minute. Then Pardo’s grin broke through and they all laughed with him.
“All right,” he said sourly, tossing the sacks at their feet, “you lazy bastards kin dig in and eat ’til you pop a gut fer all I care, but I’m tellin’ you straight…” he held up a warning finger, “you best get yourselves movin’ proper by sundown, ’cause I’m going to work you all night and ride your asses off come morning!”
Nobody understood for a moment, then the whole crew burst into a loud cheer all at once.
Pardo showed his teeth. “Didn’t figure you’d mind too much, seein’ as how you’re ever’ godamn one going to be rich as Old Kings ’bout this time next week.” He punched Jigger harshly in the ribs. “Git that stuff out where we can see it man, and let’s hop on it!”
The party didn’t take long getting underway. Free food and whiskey was news in Roundtree, the same as anywhere else, and it
wasn’t fifteen minutes before a curious crowd had gathered in front of the Keep. No one got in who wasn’t supposed to, which meant riders who worked full-time for Pardo, and whatever women were available. But there was plenty to eat and drink and more on the way. Soon there was just as big a party outside as in.
Good white corn was on hand for the asking and a few special crocks aged in the barrel, if you knew the right people. There were sacks of new potatoes to toss in the big pot over the kitchen fire, fat loaves of hot bread, and green heads of cabbage brought in from Rebel country, east of the mountains. Best of all, there were great baskets of fresh, hot meat, some of it young colt no more than three or four years old, roasted whole on the spit. Not one slice of that cut found its way out of the Keep and into the crowd.
Howie knew something was up, for certain. When Pardo treated everybody in the Keep and half of Roundtree, you could bet somebody else’d be paying for it soon.
He glanced up once and saw Kari at the head of the stairs. She took one look at the brawl in progress below and fled back to her room. Howie wished glumly that he could join her. Not that anything’d come of it, but at least he’d be out of the mess downstairs. He tried his own room, but one of the crew had already taken a girl in and locked the door behind him. For a moment, he thought about rousting them both out and giving the man what for.
Instead, he wandered down to the kitchen and found himself a hot slab of meat and a piece of bread. Most everyone had gotten their fill and the kitchen was empty, so he settled down behind a big barrel to chew his meal. The noise came in loud as ever, but at least all the people had drifted out to the other room. The eating time was over, and serious drinking was getting underway. It’d last until the whiskey was gone, or a good fight put everyone on the street.
