by Wade Miller
Biggo told most of the truth. "I quartered out here just to lose you."
Hardesty fingered his scar and made the gesture seem knowing. "Why all the secrecy, Biggo? Why don't you just out and tell me you need help?"
Biggo snorted.
"You know, I just paid fifteen bucks to have my distributor rewired."
Hardesty punched him playfully in the stomach. "That was real cute. Right now I'm trying to think up a present for you. Of course, if you gave me a break on some deal, I might forget it."
"You can forget it."
Hardesty shrugged. Biggo said, "Goodbye, Lew," and went over to the shop and bought another cigar. Hardesty trailed after him. "Say, what happened to that other girl? The one with all the figure."
"Maybe you've got me mixed up with her mother. I wouldn't know." As an afterthought, Biggo suggested, "Say, why don't you go look for her?"
"One's as good as another. Besides I've got to dress if I expect to make the concert tonight."
Biggo laughed. "You didn't hear the lady. Tickets are sold out, she said."
"Sure they're sold out. I bought one of the things yesterday just to get rid of a kid in a bar." Hardesty thumbed in his watch pocket and actually had a ticket. He winked at it. "Third row center. I ought to learn every line and curve from there. Pity she's dressed so warmly."
"You talk a good fight," said Biggo. He eyed the ticket and hoped the sick feeling didn't show in his face. By all rights, he should be the one going to watch Pabla play. But he didn't intend to ask Hardesty for the ticket.
Hardesty made some more bright remarks, got no rise out of Biggo, and finally went away.
Biggo wandered back into the lobby. He felt lonesome until he sat down on the antique divan where Pabla had been with him. Some of her aura seemed to linger there so he didn't light his new cigar. He leaned his head back and enjoyed himself. He imagined her hand was lightly touching his arm again.
The imagination was familiar; it puzzled him. He thought back. He thought, I haven't gotten a kick out of one person so much since-when? Maybe since I was her age.
Yet the thought didn't make him feel old at all. He dreamed gently. He felt possessive. All of a sudden it rushed into his mind how vitally important she was to him and he sat up, wondering. He said aloud, "I'm in love, by God!"
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Friday, September 15, 6:00 p.m.
He whistled into his room. Jinny's face looked puffier than ever from crying. But Biggo was in good humor; even the contrast between her and the girl he was thinking about didn't depress him.
"Well, you sure feel good," Jinny commented sullenly. She sat at the dressing table, putting her stuff away. She wore a pink-checked bathrobe.
"It's not such a bad day, honey."
"You get a chance to kick a cripple or something?"
"Come on, cheer up."
"Have you noticed what my face looks like?"
"You should complain. I'm the one who has to look at it."
She pitched her hairbrush at him and missed a mile. Then she laughed. Biggo had to admit she had a pleasant laugh. "I keep forgetting we're not really married, thank God," she said. "I'm all right. I'm through bawling.
"That's the baby doll. How about getting dressed? I feel like getting around some food."
They changed their clothes. Biggo got out a clean shirt. They were both worldly people and there was no excessive modesty about dressing. Biggo missed seeing her in girdle and brassiere, anyway, because he was engrossed with himself in the mirror. He swelled his massive chest, thinking, Good a man as ever. He felt young.
Jinny laughed again. She had caught him at it. Then she said, "For crying out loud, you blushed!"
"You're out of your head." He didn't like being laughed at when he was thinking about himself and Pabla, together.
Jinny eyed the mirror critically. "I guess you really are a soldier." His upper body was a hash of scars, most of them well-worn to pale markings against the hairy tan of his body. He had no left nipple, only a white slick of tissue. She asked, "Where?"
"Anybody that's got the hire."
"No, I meant where'd you get all those souvenirs."
"Not souvenirs. Every one means I made a mistake of one kind or another. Didn't dodge a spear here. Bullet-bullet-knife-bullet, came out the back. This mess here came from a broken bottle in Johannesburg."
She wrinkled her nose. "You look kind of gross." He said nothing and put on his shirt.
Jinny said, "Not everyone gets to carry their mistakes around with them like that, I guess." She threw down the lipstick in disgust. "Biggo, I can't go downstairs with this face. You go by yourself."
"On our wedding night?" He kidded her because he was sorry for her. "What'll people think?"
"Well, I'm just not going. I've still got some feelings." So he had dinner sent up to the room. It was nicely served by two waiters in Mexican costume and they ate by candlelight. Jinny wore the black one of her three dresses. Biggo, with Pabla in mind, practised being charming. He told stories. He answered most of Jinny's questions about Lew Hardesty but she thought Lew was a nice fellow anyway. So he told her about the first time he had mixed with Hardesty, some time ago in Port Safaga. It involved a fight and a bet and a brothel. It ended with an Egyptian sunrise and Hardesty howling, "For God's sake, sister, that's enough!" Hardesty had had a tough time living the episode down, which was how the "Ezzy yellallah" cry had come to be the signal for surrender between the two men. Jinny found that story gross also.
Afterwards the strolling orchestra put in an appearance under their window. Jinny dreamed, "This breathing spell is kind of a nice one." She glanced at Biggo.
"Guess I should say thanks. Well, I do say it." Her voice died away, something about "sleeping on the beach."
"Is that what you were down to?"
She muttered yes. A moment later, "I'm not a streetwalker, Biggo. I'm even worse. I'm a cheat and there's nothing lower. Times I wish I were a good honest streetwalker. I don't know."
"Buck up. Hope makes the world go round."
"Oh, maybe. When I was a kid, they told me it was love did it." The orchestra had drifted away. They could hear it on the stand in the dining patio. The night was blue, later-looking than it was. Jinny began getting ready for bed.
She said, "I don't know what you're up to, what all this funny business is for."
Biggo grunted.
She said, "No, I'm not asking to be told. I don't want to be. Don't trust me, Biggo. You'll be better off." She nodded sagely, satisfied she had done the right thing.
He already had the Bible in his hand. He had intended to shove it under his pillow. Instead, he flopped on the bed and leafed through it for appearance's sake. "Biggo, do you really read it?"
"Sure. Say, this Abner was quite a fellow for his years."
"Who?" Jinny had gotten into her bed.
"This Abner ben Ner. He was Saul's chief of staff, then the same for Saul's son." He read to her about the engagement by the pool of Gibeon. "You see, this Asahel ben Zerubiah was a younger fellow, one of King David's bunch, cocky fellow. He thought he'd give Abner a bad time. Abner warned him off but Asahel asked for it. See, right here-'wherefore Abner with the hinder end of the spear smote him in the body, so that the spear came out behind him.' " Biggo shook his head. "That's not easy, not even with the point-end of a spear. Takes quite a jab. These are the jabbing muscles, along here." He showed her on his arm.
She looked and said, "I see."
Biggo decided she wasn't too interested. He thumbed back farther and found something with women in it. He thought Jinny perked up, hearing about Deborah the militant priestess and Jael, Heber's wife, who pounded a tent peg through the head of the fleeing Canaanite general.
Biggo said, "What it really means is that the Hebrews picked their time. The rains come in that country between September and April. The Hebrews had something like ten thousand volunteers against this big Canaanite army under Sisera. And Sisera had nine h
undred iron chariots, besides all his infantry. The Hebrews picked their time, waiting in these hills to the north of the Esdraelon plain where they couldn't be gotten at by the chariots. Which put the chariots backed up against the Qishon River. So when the rains started, the chariots bogged down, just like tanks. So there you have the chariots stuck fast and nine hundred teams of horses scared and raising hell with your foot soldiers so when the Hebrews frontal-attacked it was a pushover for…"
But Jinny had fallen asleep.
Biggo sighed and got up and turned off the light. He tucked the Bible under his pillow. He remembered the cigar he had bought and sat by the window, smoking it and looking out. He sat there for a long time. The smoke misted out the window and went north in the blue night.
His thoughts went with it, to Pabla at her concert in the town hall. He wondered. He thought maybe it was time he settled down. When he finished this peacock business he would have ten thousand dollars. "This time I'll hold onto the money," he murmured. "Make plans." Of course, Pabla was young enough to be his daughter but she was the sweetest cleanest female he'd ever seen and far stranger marriages had worked. "She likes me, I know she does." He smiled happily. "Get a rancho somewhere down here and settle down. I've done enough fighting for one man. Time I thought of myself."
At eleven o'clock, the town bells rang, just as they had for the first Grito de Dolores more than a hundred years ago. Biggo could see an edge of the parking lot from the room's rear window and he watched for Pabla to return. Presently she did. Her blue satin dress was part of the moonlight and her hair shone like a coin. Behind her walked Mamacita and Valentin, shadows. Biggo's glimpse of her was all too short.
He got the bit of white satin ribbon out of his wallet and felt it and sniffed it. It smelled like his wallet now. But it had belonged to her though it had his finger marks on it. It was getting less white.
Other cars returned to the hotel, among them Hardesty's Chevy. Hardesty swaggered past Biggo's gaze for a second. Finally, the world seemed to have quieted down for the night.
Biggo put his ribbon away and pitched his cigar butt out the window. As he undressed, he considered the matter of Hardesty. He said, "If you know what's good for you, Lew, you won't go butting in between me and her. Hell, you don't know what true love is like, anyway."
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Saturday, September 16, 9:00 a.m.
A decent night's sleep made Jinny look a lot better. She sang in the shower and Biggo didn't think she had such a bad voice. She came out and put on her peasant blouse and striped skirt outfit. She sniffed at the surf freshness in the air and, as Biggo began to shave, announced she'd wait for him downstairs.
There was a lucky feel to the brilliant Mexican morning. Biggo gloried in it as he took his time dressing. He slipped his coat on over his tieless shirt, put his Bible in his pocket, and ambled down to join the girl at breakfast.
His mood changed abruptly when he reached the bougainvillea patio and its carnival-colored umbrella tables. Lew Hardesty was there ahead of him. Hardesty sat with Jinny and two orange juices at a bright blue table. He was being very charming to Jinny and she was all smiles.
So Biggo got mad. Every time he turned around there was Hardesty and he was getting a bellyful of it. It had passed the funny stage. He stalked up to the pair and Hardesty was surprised and not any gladder to see him. A seersucker suit and bow-tie brought out Hardesty's tan lean romantic looks which further displeased Biggo.
They grunted at one another. Biggo settled his chair intimately by Jinny's and growled, "You might have waited for me, honey."
"I've only had orange juice."
Hardesty said, "Biggo, my stomach's always touchy at breakfast and there's a lot of other tables around."
"Nobody asked you. This is all reserved." Biggo banged for the waiter and ordered two large breakfasts without consulting Jinny. Then Hardesty ordered one for himself.
The strain tightened Jinny put her hand on Biggo's sleeve. "Please, let's just enjoy ourselves, huh?"
"We did last night, didn't we, honey?"
Her smile went away entirely. "Biggo," she said as a plea.
Hardesty's eyes snapped from one to the other. "What's the setup?"
"Don't get personal," said Biggo. To Jinny, "You know, if we can't have our privacy down here, we ought to keep on eating in our room. That way we don't have to bother getting dressed."
Jinny said nothing. Her face whitened and showed the memory of the bruises.
Biggo looked at Hardesty. "I figure if I'm paying for it I can order it the way I want."
"You've got it all worked out?" Hardesty asked. Even he seemed somewhat offended at Biggo's crudeness. Not that Biggo exactly liked asserting himself this way but he figured he had his rights and he was fed up.
Biggo said, "Any objections?"
"To you, maybe. Some of us think it's a free country, Biggo. Every man for himself, you know, including women too."
Jinny's head was bowed and her lower lip was between her teeth. Hardesty said, "I think we'll leave it up to the lady fair."
"The hell we will. Take your turn when it comes around, Lew. Till then, stay out."
"Or what?" drawled Hardesty.
"That's right. Or what? I'm not an Arab with my hands tied behind my back."
"Well, I'll tell you. I'm getting tired of hearing about those pet Arabs. Are you just talking or do you mean it, Biggo? I think you're just getting old, babbling."
Biggo tossed the contents of his water glass in Hardesty's face and it ran down, soaking into the seersucker suit. Except that Jinny gasped, nobody spoke for a minute.
Hardesty slicked back his wet hair. "I guess we'd better settle it," he said then and got up.
Biggo got up. "I understand the north end of the hotel is empty."
"Five minutes," Hardesty promised and went away. Jinny drifted to her feet and Biggo took her wrist. "Now, you're not going to go after him."
"No," she said dully, "I just thought I'd go up to our… to the room."
"The food's yet to come."
"I'm not hungry."
"Well, don't be worried about me. Nothing's going to happen to me."
"No, I suppose not. I just want to go up to the room." Biggo sat alone at the table when the three breakfasts came and he wasn't hungry himself. He tipped the waiter heavily and paid for the food and had it sent back. He couldn't feel very proud of himself. He had had to show the girl who was boss and he was about to show Hardesty the same thing but still he didn't get any kick out of it. "Always these bloody complications," he snarled.
Then he got an idea, a pretty fair idea, that dissipated his ugly thoughts. He jumped up and looked around for an accomplice. None of the waiters filled the bill and there was nobody handy in the lobby. He wandered out into the sunshine and circled until in the parking lot he saw a familiar figure. Adolfo had put his rake to one side and was trying the trunk of a Packard.
Biggo hailed him, "Hi!" and the Mexican jumped a foot. He snatched up his rake and burst into an explanation of just what he was doing. Then he patted his overalls where his heart was and grinned. "Don Biggo!"
They shook hands warmly. Adolfo indicated the Packard. "Truthfully, I was looking for something to steal."
"How's Rosita?"
"Fertile and loving, the Lord be thanked." Adolfo scanned him frankly, as an old friend. "I see that you have risen in the world since the time of our common residence."
"That may be or not, amigo. Perhaps I could use your help. Do you work here?"
Adolfo raised his shoulders, amused. "Don Biggo, that's a divided question. To the hotel management, I look familiar, walking around with this rake. But I'm not on their pay-list and I make no claims. It happens I found the rake and so no one questions me while I walk around seeing what else I might find."
Biggo laughed. "You're my man. Listen…" He described Hardesty swiftly. "This fellow with the scar will be leaving the hotel shortly, I've no doubt. That's his car over ther
e. Do you think you could encounter him like this-" he demonstrated by bumping into Adolfo "-apparently by accident?"
"I think so."
"And then to run away quickly without being captured?"
"I think so. I'm a very quick runner."
"Bueno." Biggo gave him five dollars, which Adolfo made a pretense of not wishing to accept. They shook hands again and parted.
Biggo entered the corridors north of the lobby. He passed a long sunken ballroom, deserted, with scores of tables. At last he came to draperies covering a fancy iron gate. The afternoon before he had glanced inside. Now he looked around quickly and went through the draperies and the gate, closing them again. And he was in the ill-fated gambling casino.
The place was as huge as a cathedral and as hushed. To one side sprawled a cocktail lounge, ready for business-someday-but the pyramids of glasses were dim with dust. There were other rooms meant for cards and light filtered richly through the window drapes to reveal not a stick of furniture. The banking windows were closed. The gambling end of the hotel was a wealthy invalid, betrayed.
Biggo's feet strode soundlessly across the thick carpets. The hub of the deserted casino was the immense roulette room, octagonal and three stories high. Far above hung a crystal chandelier like all the glass in the world.
The room dwarfed even the two big men. Hardesty had put his folded coat on the floor in the corner. He unbuckled his goat-leather holster from around his shoulder and from it protruded the well-known pearl handle of his Mauser. He put the weapon out of sight beneath his coat and stood up and gazed at Biggo.
With one movement Biggo got out of his own coat and it plumped to the floor from the weight of the Bible.
They had nothing to say as they sized each other up and walked into each other and swung at the same instant. Then for a time their feet touched as they hammered at flesh. Biggo had the weight but Hardesty was taller and faster with as good a reach. And Hardesty was the younger.
Hardesty danced away from the hammering first. He kicked Biggo in the crotch and Biggo locked his ankle between his thighs and threw him. Hardesty rolled as Biggo jumped at him with both feet so that Biggo slipped off his hip and they were both down.
