by Elmer Kelton
“Why didn’t Brewer and the others let these two go through yesterday? Get ’em out of the way.”
“I don’t think they want anyone going for help until they’ve finished with Callahan.”
“I doubt they’d want witnesses either, would they?”
“That’s the problem. Me, they don’t worry about. I’ve been on the inside, and I know better than to open my mouth. But these other two—I just hope they get gone before these others come for Callahan.”
“You don’t think he’s got a chance, then.”
Claire shook her head. “They gave him his choice. Either he gave himself up yesterday or they came for him today.”
“Is he just bluffing?”
“He hasn’t accepted those as the only two options.” She motioned with her head toward the smooth, pale surface of the mountain. “You’re a fool if you don’t go.”
“Thanks for the warning,” he said. “How about yourself?”
“They’ll follow me, and I can’t move fast enough. But I’ll take my chances. Sooner or later I’ll get loose of them.” She held up her hand in a small gesture of farewell. “Good luck,” she said, and she walked back to the building.
Page looked into the corral to see how his horse was doing. A few dabs of hay were left. Page turned away and walked around to the front door of the station. He stepped up onto the board porch, took a look around, and went in.
At his place at the table, he saw where Callahan had left him a ten-cent piece for change. The proprietor was standing behind the counter smoking a cigarette.
“I think I’m ready to go,” Page said.
“Already?”
“Nothin’ to keep me here.”
“You can ride with me,” Callahan said. “Strength in numbers.”
“I’ll go my own way, thanks.”
“You might want to go with me. Best way out.”
“I said I’ll go my own way. Alone.”
“Hah. I thought maybe you’d have a little more decency when someone needed help.”
“It’s not my affair.”
“Oh, you’ve been talkin’ to Claire, haven’t you? I know she went out there.”
“What does it matter?”
“Well, she’s going with me.” Callahan raised his voice. “Claire!”
She came from the kitchen to the doorway and stood there without speaking.
“Why don’t you tell Mr. Page to go with us?”
“Us?”
“Sure. You and me.”
“I’m not going anywhere with you.”
“Sure you are. You just need to convince our friend to go along.”
“If he’s got any sense, he’ll leave on his own.”
Callahan smiled. “I thought you’d like his help, especially in your condition.”
Page narrowed his eyes.
“Oh, she didn’t tell you? She’s knocked up, you know. Oh, not me. And not the fella who’d like to get his hands on her.”
Page looked at Claire, and she shrugged. “I didn’t see the need to tell you that,” she said, “especially when you said what you did about not needing to know about other people’s affairs.”
Page thought she had been a bit selective about what she said and didn’t, but he left it at that.
Callahan spoke again to Page. “Just a poor pregnant widow. I thought you’d like to ride along to make sure the whole exchange goes well.”
Claire’s voice rose in a tone of impatience. “I’m not going anywhere with you.”
“Of course you are. Go get a few things together, and I’ll hitch up my horse while Mr. Page saddles his.”
“I’m not going with you,” she said, firm as ever.
“Neither am I,” said Page.
Callahan made a small spitting sound. “Go ahead and leave,” he said. “If you don’t want to see her through, I’ll do it myself.”
Page glanced at Snell and Grady. They both sat wide-eyed with their mouths open. Page turned to Callahan, who had brushed his coat back to reveal a gun and holster.
“Look, Page. Don’t be a fool. The one way any of us gets out of here is if we all go together. That’s the easiest. These two said they would go if you would. If Claire goes with us, no one gets hurt.”
That was it, Page thought. Callahan wanted to use Claire as a hostage or a bargaining chip. Page kept his eyes on the man. “You don’t want to hand her over, do you?”
“We’ll see how things go.”
Page shook his head. “I don’t like any of it.”
“And I’m not going,” said Claire. “Not with you.”
Callahan’s hand moved toward his gun. “I can make you.”
Page moved his own hand so that his fingertips touched his holster. “Don’t try it,” he said.
Callahan sneered. “How are you going to stop me? You either go with us, or she and I go alone.”
“Maybe no one goes anywhere.”
“That’s just as good. Whether we go or stay, the best is for the five of us to stay together.”
Page looked at the woman.
“Go,” she said. “Don’t be a fool.”
Page nodded. Callahan was counting on him to stay to protect the woman. Widow of one man, pregnant by another, held by a third man, and desired by a fourth. And she was the best of the bunch. Page looked at the three men in the room, and he walked out of the station.
The sun had climbed in the sky and was warming the day as he saddled the grey horse. The stock of the rifle was cool to the touch. When he had everything ready to go, he checked the loads in his pistol. Then leading the horse by the reins, he walked to the back door of the station and rapped on it.
The door opened, and Claire stood in the doorway.
“Well, I’m going,” he said.
“Good luck.”
“Thanks.” He hesitated for a moment. “You’re welcome to come along,” he said.
Her face tensed. “I hadn’t thought of it. Like I said before, I can’t move fast.”
“You can walk, can’t you?” His eyes roved over her loose apron and dress. “How far along are you?”
“Less than three months. I can walk all right. I just don’t think I should ride a horse or do anything sudden.”
Page cast a glance at the mountain. “It’s all slow and on foot.”
“You go,” she said. “I’ll remember you asked.”
“All right.” He put his foot in the stirrup, swung aboard, and touched his hat. “So long.”
He felt a pang at leaving her to what might happen, but he didn’t want to buy someone else’s trouble, especially when that someone was a crook. He gigged the horse into a fast walk and rode toward the base of the mountain without looking back. A quarter-mile out, he turned in the saddle to glance at his back trail.
A woman was walking toward him across the flat. The white apron was gone, and she was carrying a small handbag at her side. She lifted her hand to wave, and he turned his horse and waited.
As he looked past her toward the station, he saw a horse and rider coming toward her on a lope. Dust rose, and the faint drumming of hooves carried on the air.
The horse was a sorrel with a narrow white blaze, and the rider had light-colored hair and a brown hat.
Callahan rode past her, then cut his horse around to block her way. As she turned one way and then the other, he lunged the sorrel to each side in front of her. Now he was forcing her back, trying to herd her.
Page spurred his horse and headed toward the station on a lope. He slowed as he came up close to the sorrel, then stopped as he laid his hand on the headstall.
“Leave her alone,” he said.
“You stay out of this, cowboy.” Callahan’s voice became harsher as he said, “Claire, get back!”
Page swung down from his horse and stood between Callahan’s horse and Claire. “Save your breath,” he said.
“You’re a meddling fool.” Callahan jerked his right leg over the saddle and jumped down onto the grou
nd.
Page assumed Callahan thought there might be gunplay and didn’t want to be in the saddle if it happened.
Callahan passed the reins in back of him to his left hand, and with his right hand near his pistol butt he walked up to Page. “Get out of my way,” he said.
“Leave her alone. If she wants to leave, that’s up to her.”
Callahan stopped. “By God, you are a fool.”
“Don’t let that trouble you.”
Callahan raised his head and glanced beyond Page in Claire’s direction, then brought his gaze back as he stood crowding. When Page didn’t budge, Callahan’s tone turned sarcastic as it had earlier, in the station. “You talk about trouble, you’re settin’ yourself up for plenty.”
“That’s for me to worry about.”
“But I guess there’s one good thing about it. Once they’re in that condition, you can’t knock ’em up again.”
Page’s fist came up and connected with Callahan’s cheekbone, and the brown hat tumbled away. The man stepped back, regained his balance, and came at Page swinging. His right fist skidded off of Page’s forearm, but his left came around and caught Page on the jaw. It didn’t have much force, though, and Page didn’t even lose his hat. He stepped back, got his fists up, and moved forward. He landed a right on the side of Callahan’s head and sent him backward again.
Claire’s voice stopped the fight. “They’re coming!”
Both Page and Callahan turned to the east, where three dark riders moved toward the station on fast-walking horses. They were about a mile away.
Callahan took a couple of steps, leaned over, and picked up his hat where it fell. His hand wavered near his gun.
“You’ve got bigger things to worry about,” said Page. “Don’t make me draw.”
Callahan took a deep breath and seemed to take stock of things. He walked toward his horse, which had shied back several steps. He gathered the reins, flipped them in place, and swung aboard. Turning, he said in a loud voice, “I could tell you something, but I won’t.” Then he kicked the sorrel in the flank and headed back to the station at a gallop.
Page got a hold of his own horse and walked to the spot where Claire stood.
“That’s Billy Callahan for you,” she said. “Bluff right up to the end.”
Page glanced at the mountain and then at the station. “I hate to say this,” he said, “but I think at this point our best chances are to go back. If you can’t run, I think we’d better walk fast.”
Page led the horse and kept pace with Claire. She didn’t lag, but he wished she would walk a little faster. The riders were getting closer.
The sound of voices carried from the corrals, and Page looked around in time to see two dark-hatted men swing onto their horses and ride around the west end of the station. Callahan and the sorrel followed on a run.
“Snell and Grady are takin’ off,” Page said. “Looks like he’s tryin’ to stop ’em.”
Claire forged ahead, and Page kept himself at her pace. When they were within a hundred yards of the station, he decided to go ahead.
“Keep walking,” he said. “I’ll put this horse in the corral and get right back to you.” He set his reins, swung aboard, and kicked the grey horse into a lope. He rounded the corner of the corral and drew up in front of the pen he had used earlier. He swung down, knotted the reins so they wouldn’t fall and drag on the ground, and pulled his rifle from the scabbard. He turned the horse into the pen and closed the gate.
Back at the corner of the corral, he waited but a few seconds as Claire caught up. The two of them headed for the back door of the main building. He couldn’t see the riders from the east, so he figured they were on the other side of the station. He listened for shots, but all he heard was the sound of hooves on dry earth. In an instant, Callahan and the sorrel horse came pounding around the west end of the station. Page and Claire kept walking as Callahan jumped off the horse and pushed it into the pen.
“Get inside!” he yelled as he ran past them to the back door.
It did not budge when he heaved himself against it and tried to turn the handle.
“Damn it!” he said. “Someone’s in there, and they’ve got it locked. Come on.” He drew his gun, moved up against the building, and headed for the corner on the west end.
Page followed with Claire behind. When they heard no commotion, they went around the first corner and found Callahan a couple of yards ahead of them. He turned and frowned.
“There must be two outside and one inside. I think we’ve got a better chance if we get in.”
Page did not like the options, but it was too late to change them. “All right,” he said. Holding the rifle at waist level, he moved ahead.
Callahan paused at the next corner and waited for Page and Claire to catch up. He shifted his gun to his left hand, and with no warning he grabbed Claire by the upper arm. She backhanded him with her left hand, and with her right she swatted at him with her handbag. He let loose and grabbed again, this time at the top of her dress. Claire pulled away, and the fabric ripped. Callahan gave up on that maneuver and went around the corner by himself. Again, all was quiet.
Page and Claire followed. Ahead of them, Callahan made a break for the door. At the same moment, a man stepped out from the far corner, fired a shot, and sank back out of view.
Callahan grabbed his right thigh and slumped. Blood showed between his fingers. He took his six-gun into his left hand and limped forward. Up onto the board porch, he hobbled to the door. He passed the gun to his right hand again, and with his left he opened the door inward.
A husky man in a drab-colored, close-fitting pullover shirt appeared in the doorway and shot Callahan dead center. Callahan snapped back, landing in a limp heap on the ground, and his brown hat rolled away.
The man in the doorway swung his .45 around toward Page, who had just levered in a shell. With the stock of the rifle against his hip, Page pulled the trigger.
The man doubled over, and his pistol clattered on the boards of the porch.
Page held his arm out as he turned to Claire. “Let’s get in.” As they stepped up onto the porch, he said, “Who is that?”
“Pearson,” she answered.
“Hold this.” He handed her the rifle, then leaned over and pulled the body clear of the doorway. He straightened up and said, “Go right around him.”
Page stood with his right hand on his pistol butt and let Claire go through the door ahead of him, carrying the rifle and her handbag. As she moved past, motion at the far corner of the building caught his eye. The man who had shot Callahan in the leg stepped into view. He was short, thin, and blond, wearing a wide-brimmed hat and a light-colored vest, and he had a gun pulled.
Page drew and shot him in the upper chest, and he spilled backward. Page took a quick look around. Callahan had said he thought there were two men outside, and the other one could come around a corner at any minute.
Page made it through the station door in two quick steps. Claire was standing a few feet from the door and facing it. Page took the rifle from her, set it on the table, and turned to close the door. He slammed it shut, put the steel bar in place against it, and stepped aside. He put his gun in his holster and brought his eyes to meet Claire’s.
“I got the one who shot Callahan in the leg.”
“That was Stovall.”
Page let out a long breath and felt the tension relax in his upper body. “We might be in for a wait now.”
Movement in the back of the room drew his eye. A man rose up from behind Callahan’s counter and held a gun aimed past Claire at Page. He was a slender, brown-haired man of average height. He had taken his hat off, and his hair was ridged all the way around. His face was tight, as if his skin was stretched over his cheekbones, and his straggly mustache looked crooked.
“It won’t be long,” he said. “Claire, get out of the way.”
“What do you think you’re going to get?”
“We’ll settle that later. Ge
t out of the line of fire.”
Claire was standing partway in front of Page and on his right. She still held her handbag, and now she shifted it to her left hand.
The other man’s eyes followed her movement, then rested on her upper body where Callahan had torn her dress. He seemed to catch himself gazing, and when his face hardened again she dropped the bag and stepped to her right.
Page jumped sideways to the left and drew his gun as the other man wavered and tried to pick up his target.
Page fired twice. The first shot caught the man in the left shoulder and lifted him an inch or so as it turned him. The second shot caught him in the lower chest and dropped him.
Silence hung in the room as Page put his pistol in his holster. “That ought to be all of them for right now,” he said. “Was the last one Brewer?”
“That was him.”
Page listened for noises outside and didn’t hear any. “The other three are probably on their way, don’t you think?”
“I would imagine.”
“Then I’d say we’d best get out of here while we can. How about you?”
Claire nodded. “I think I could take my chance riding a horse. You want to go the same way you were headed before?”
“It should get us out of the way.” He moved to the table and picked up the rifle. “I’ll get the horses ready.”
He went out the back way. By the time he got his horse and Callahan’s out of the pens, Claire had changed into a shirt and a pair of trousers. He helped her into the saddle, then mounted the grey horse, and they were ready to go.
They made it to the base of the mountain in short order. They dismounted, and Page went first. The path led upward through boulders for about two hundred yards, and the group came out on an open spot. Page wondered how visible they were from the station. He imagined they looked like insects crawling up the body of an unknown beast.
They went through another series of crevices, then came out and took another breather. They were a good hundred feet above the plain, and Page wondered again what they looked like from a distance. As he gazed at the station, he saw black smoke rising from it.
“Looks like it’s on fire,” he said.
“Sure does.”
He gave her a close look. “Did you drop a match?”
