Escape From Five Shadows

  “What do you want now?”

  “I saw you in the canyon a while ago.”

  “You rode all the way in to tell me that?”

  “I told you never to go near there.”

  She nodded. “Three or four times.”

  “I’m not going to tell you again.”

  “That’s fine.”

  “Next time you go in the punishment cell.”

  “You wouldn’t dare.”

  “You want to find out, go ahead.”

  Lizann smiled faintly. “Frank, do you honestly think you’re frightening me?”

  “If I’m not, you’re the one’s going to suffer for it.”

  “I don’t think so,” Lizann said. She moved across the room to the table, poured water into a glass from an earthenware pitcher, then sat down. She crossed her legs, sitting sideways to the table and sipped at the glass. “Frank,” she said, lowering the glass, “I’d ask you to stay, but I couldn’t think of anything more unpleasant to have happen.”

  Renda moved toward her. “Lizzy, you’re bluffing, aren’t you.”

  “About you being unpleasant?”

  “About leaving here.”

  A smile touched Lizann’s mouth. “Why do you think I’m bluffing?”

  “Because you know what I’d do to you if you ever tried.”

  “Has it kept you awake—thinking about it?”

  “If you’re not bluffing, Lizzy, you’ll wish you were.”

  “Frank, stop trying to sound menacing. You don’t frighten me anymore. I’m leaving here…there’s nothing you can do about it, and the sooner you realize it the better.”

  He moved to the table, raised his hip to sit on the edge and folded his arms. Looking down at her he asked, “How’re you going to do it?”

  Lizann took a sip of water and placed the glass down carefully. She had expected him to show his temper, but he remained calm, deliberately in control of himself. After a moment she answered, “You’d never guess.”

  “I don’t have to,” Renda said. “You’re going to tell me.”

  “I’ll tell you this, Frank—which I already have—it’s going to happen and you’ll still be thinking about it when it does.”

  Renda watched her. As she raised the glass again, his arms uncoiled and he swept it from her hand. The glass shattered against the floor and Lizann went back from the table, straightening, looking suddenly at Renda with shocked surprise.

  Renda’s arms were folded again. “I asked you how’re you going to do it.”

  Lizann did not answer, though she continued to stare at him and her hand brushed at the wet stain on her skirt.

  “Willis didn’t write to anybody,” Renda said. “You haven’t either, because I’ve seen every letter that’s gone out. What other way is there?”

  “You’ll have to find out for yourself,” Lizann said. She saw his arms separating and tried to turn away, but she was not quick enough and the back of his hand stung across her cheek.

  As she looked up at him again, Renda said, “I’m going to find out, but not by myself. You see what I mean?”

  She could feel her cheek burning as she made herself return his stare. “You intend to force me to tell you?”

  Renda shrugged. “One way or the other.”

  “You’re not a man…you’re an animal.”

  “I’m still asking—”

  “You can go to hell.”

  She was expecting it, but his hand struck so suddenly there was not time to turn from the blow, and as her head came up he struck her again with his open right hand.

  “I’m not fooling, Lizzy!”

  She brought her arms up in front of her and as he drew back his hand again she left the chair. Renda was on her as she reached the bedroom door. He pushed her inside and against the near wall, held her against the adobe until she stopped struggling, then stepped back slowly.

  “The next time I use my fist!”

  “I told you—”

  He brought his fist back, but at the last moment he opened it and struck her again with the palm of his hand.

  “Say it!”

  “I have nothing to say.”

  Renda stepped back. He shifted his weight and saw her eyes close as he hit her in the face with his fist. Lizann’s head struck the wall and she started to go down, but Renda caught her and held her against the adobe.

  “I’ll bust your face wide open. Honest to God I’ll fix you so no man’ll look at you as long as you live.”

  Lizann’s eyes opened. She breathed in and out slowly, painfully, and said, “Let me sit down…I’ll tell you.”

  “You’re stalling.”

  “Let me sit down—”

  Renda held her against the wall. “How’re you going to do it?”

  “Willis wrote a letter. He mailed it from Fuegos.”

  “You’re lying!”

  “I swear it’s the truth!”

  Renda went back a half step and drove his fist against her cheek.

  “I’ll kill you! You understand that!” He moved against her before she could slide to the floor. Close to her face he said, “One more will fix you. One more and even Willis won’t know you.” Her head hung forward resting on his shoulder. He could feel her breathing against him, but she made no sign that she had heard.

  “All right,” Renda said. His left hand held her against the wall as he stepped back.

  Lizann raised her head. The side of her face was deep red, her cheekbone was skinned and a thin line of blood showed at the corner of her eye. Her eyes remained closed as she said, “I wrote the letter.”

  “You’re lying!”

  “I did!”

  “How could you mail it?”

  “I gave it to that girl from the station.” That was it. It was forming in her mind now—something to make him leave, something to give her time—but the pain made it difficult to think and she knew she had to be careful. You gave it to the girl, she thought hurriedly. But she hasn’t mailed it yet. He must think he can still get it. But get him out—for God’s sake get him out!

  “When did you give it to her?”

  Lizann opened her eyes slowly. “She was here just before you came. A few minutes before.”

  “Nobody passed me. Not a soul.”

  “Then she came the other way. I don’t know…but I gave it to her.”

  “Lizzy, if you’re lying to me—”

  “I swear it!”

  Suddenly Renda turned from her. There was the sound of a horse outside. He waited. “Stay where you are,” he said then and went out into the front room. The moment he reached the doorway he saw that his horse was gone. He ran out, hearing the running hoofbeats now—two horses, one of them his, both moving through the open gate, then swinging south toward the wagon road.

  “Karla!” Renda cupped his hands to his mouth and shouted after her. She did not look back, but he saw her release his horse before she disappeared over a low-swelling rise.

  Lizann stood in the doorway to the bedroom. “What did you say? You called something.”

  “Karla…she was still here.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Listening to us all the time,” Renda said. “Else she wouldn’t be running now.”

  Lizann stared at him.

  “Now I’ll have to go after her,” Renda said. He looked at Lizann again. “I would’ve sworn you were lying. You’re lucky she was still around. You know I just might have killed you.”

  Lizann nodded slowly. She did not trust herself to speak.

  15

  They had come down the wagon-road slope keeping in line with the windowless north side of the stage station and now, from the willows, they looked across the open yard to the front of the adobe.

  “One horse in the shed,” Manring said.

  Bowen was studying it. From this angle they could see only the hindquarters and saddle. “It could be Willis Favley’s dun,” Bowen said. Karla wouldn’t be back yet, he thought. That left her father and wh
oever owned the dun. That you’re sure of, he thought.

  “It could be,” Manring said. “That’d be something if he was inside.”

  Bowen’s hand went into the front of his shirt. “We’re about to find out,” he said. As he pulled Lizann’s revolver he saw the look of surprise come over Manring’s bearded face.

  “Where’d you get that?”

  “I told you, Earl, we didn’t need you as much as you thought.” Bowen turned and as Manring continued to stare at him, moved out from the willows.

  He started to hurry across the open yard, then thought: Take your time. He slowed to a walk, keeping his eyes on the door, but not going directly for it. He reached the corner of the building, hesitated, then moved along the front of the adobe, past the two windows, to the screen door. He opened it, felt it open wider as Manring took it, and brought up the revolver as he stepped into the room.

  At the far end, behind the bar, John Demery looked up. As he did, as the astonishment came over his face, Willis Falvey glanced around, then turned suddenly, pressing his back to the bar.

  Bowen said. “Who else is here?” moving toward them.

  Demery shook his head. “Nobody else. Karla—” he stopped. “You broke out!”

  Bowen motioned with the revolver. “Come around to this side.” He glanced at Manring. “Look out back.”

  Manring was staring at Falvey. “I got to talk to little Willis.” He walked toward him, ignoring Bowen.

  Falvey pressed against the bar. “I never did anything to you.”

  “Leave him alone,” Bowen said.

  Falvey looked toward Bowen. “I don’t even know his name. How could I have done anything to him?”

  Close to him Manring said, “You were there, boy. That’s enough.”

  Bowen stepped toward them. “Get away from him, Earl.”

  Falvey’s face was flushed; he’d had a lot of whiskey, Bowen judged, but not enough to hide his open-eyed, lip-biting expression of fear.

  “I don’t care if you run away,” Falvey said. “More power to you. Ask John here, I was telling him…I don’t care anymore what goes on at that place.”

  “He doesn’t care,” Demery said. “But not enough to pull out.”

  Falvey turned on him. “Why should I? I do my job! What Frank does is none of my business!” He caught himself then. “You don’t even know what you’re talking about.”

  “You’re doing the talking,” Demery said. “Maybe I don’t know everything; but living within six miles of that place, and watching you, I know enough.”

  Abruptly, Manring pulled Falvey around by his coat lapels. “Willis, are you packing a gun?”

  Falvey shook his head emphatically. “It’s on my saddle. Gun and holster both hanging on the saddle.”

  Manring released him, stepping back. “Let’s see.”

  Falvey’s hands went to his coat. He unbuttoned it and was holding it open when Manring’s fist drove into his face. Head and shoulders snapped back and as his knees buckled Manring hit him again.

  “Leave him alone!” Bowen was on Manring pushing him away and Demery caught Falvey before he could fall.

  Manring stepped back, looking at Bowen now. “You’re a real do-gooder, aren’t you?”

  “Earl, get out of here. Take a look out back; then bring the dun around and saddle another horse.”

  “So you’re bossing,” Manring said mildly.

  Bowen nodded. “Now you’re sure of it.”

  “That’s a lot of order giving,” Manring said, “for a man who’s still got numbers on his pants.”

  Bowen moved the revolver toward him. “You’re on a poor end for arguing about it, Earl.” He held the revolver on him until Manring turned and went out through the kitchen.

  To Falvey, Bowen said, “You’d better sit down.”

  Falvey shook his head. “I’m all right.” He took out a handkerchief to wipe the blood from his mouth, then turned to the bar and drank down the whiskey still in his glass.

  Demery watched Bowen move to one of the front windows. “You didn’t see Karla,” he said. “You couldn’t have.”

  Looking out across the yard to the willows Bowen said, “I saw her. She passed us just before…just before we ran off.”

  “I mean,” Demery said, “you didn’t talk to her.”

  Bowen looked at him now. “She wanted to tell me something, but Brazil was there.” It seemed a long time ago and he had almost forgotten it.

  “Well, it doesn’t matter now,” Demery said.

  “What doesn’t?”

  “Man, you got a new trial coming up. New evidence, new trial, new everything!”

  “What—”

  “You heard me right—a new trial! With about an eighty per cent chance of going free. But you have to break out and ruin any chance you ever had!”

  Bowen stared at him. “How do you know?”

  “We heard from Lyall Martz.”

  “Karla didn’t tell me anything about a new trial! How was I to know—”

  “She told you about the lawyer!”

  “That was talk.”

  “Talk!” Demery said hotly. “Those two have been working for you for a month—Karla pleading at Lyall and Lyall pulling more strings than a four-team driver. And all the time you’re thinking how to do it the hard way. You couldn’t wait. Got to bust out with your bare hands as if that would prove something.” Demery moved around the end of the bar. He poured whiskey into a glass and pushed it at Bowen. “Have a drink.”

  Bowen exhaled slowly. He raised the glass and drank off the whiskey. He tried to smile then. “I guess my timing’s poor.”

  “I guess it is,” Demery said. He hesitated before adding, “But maybe not so poor to be too late.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Demery looked at Falvey. “Willis, if this man gives himself up, will you look after him, be responsible for him till a marshal comes from Prescott?”

  Falvey hesitated. “I don’t see how I could.”

  “You could stay right here. We’ll lock him in a room and you could stand right there at the bar till the Prescott man comes.”

  “I don’t have the authority—”

  “Damn it, take the authority!”

  Falvey shook his head. “It’s out of my jurisdiction.”

  “Willis, the man just saved you from getting your head beat in!”

  “I’m sorry—”

  Demery shook his head. “He’s sorry.”

  Bowen placed his elbows on the bar, leaning toward Demery. “What’d the lawyer find out, Mr. Demery?”

  “All the things that should’ve come out at the trial,” the station agent said. “Lyall found the man who’d forged the cattleman’s name on the bill of sale.”

  “Then Earl didn’t do it.”

  “No,” Demery said. “He didn’t do it. He paid to have it done.”

  “You’re sure.”

  “Of course I’m sure. This forger’s name is Roy Avery. He confessed to his part and told everything he knew.”

  Bowen shook his head. “I never heard of him.”

  “Avery says he never heard of you either,” Demery said. “He signed a statement that it was his understanding Manring was in it alone. He said you must’ve been hired just as a hand.”

  “How’d the lawyer get Avery to make the statement?” asked Bowen.

  “Lyall’s full of tricks,” Demery said. “But he might’ve just held a gun on him for all I know.”

  “I’m obliged to him.”

  “You sure as hell are.” Demery paused before saying, “That’s some partner you’ve got. Takes you to jail with him.”

  “I don’t call him a partner.”

  “But you break out together.”

  “That’s a long story.”

  “I bet it is.”

  “Listen,” Bowen said, “till Karla started this, Earl was innocent as far as I knew. I was mad because he got me into it, but after a while I thought: If you have to live with hi
m then you might as well make the best of it. I never cared for his ways, but I never had cause to doubt him till Karla talked to the lawyer.”

  “But after she talked to him,” Demery said, “and told you about it, you still teamed with him to break out.”

  “When you’re behind the fence,” Bowen said, “you don’t think the same as when you’re outside. A chance comes to run, you take it—even if you have doubts about the man you’re running with.”

  “But no doubts now?”

  “I guess not.”

  Demery said, “I still don’t know why he didn’t clear you at the trial. He didn’t gain anything by your going to prison.”

  Bowen shook his head. “I don’t know either. But we’re going to find out.”

  “Knowing won’t do you any good,” Demery said, “unless you get out of here before Renda comes.”

  “No, Mr. Demery, I don’t think I’ll leave now.”

  “Frank won’t accept this lawyer thing. He’ll think up an excuse to shoot you.”

  “I’ll take a chance.”

  “What about the Mimbres?”

  “Damn—everything at once.”

  “You got a lot to think about.”

  “But you take the important one first, don’t you?”

  “That’s what they say.”

  “And that’s Earl. Earl’s not leaving either.”

  As Bowen said this, he heard the back screen door slam and he stepped around the end of the bar to be facing the doorway. Lizann’s revolver was in front of him on the bar. Manring’s steps sounded from the kitchen, then he was in the doorway, standing hip-cocked and wearing Willis Falvey’s Colt.

  “You coming?”

  “We’re not going anywhere, Earl.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  Get to it, Bowen thought, and he said, “Your friend Avery made a statement.”

  Manring straightened slowly, letting his hands slide from his hips. “Are you talking to me?”

  “You know I am.”

  “I don’t know any Avery. Avery what?”

  “You’ll meet him again at the trial.”

  “Somebody’s been fooling you, boy.” Manring’s eyes went to Demery. “What’s he been making up?”