Elmore Leonard's Western Roundup #2

  Merl White and the two other ex-Sun-D riders, Ford Goss and Joe Tobin, were following Danahe r and behind them were a half dozen men Danahe r had brought along to "fill out the posse."

  Frye waited for all of them to come up close.

  "Merl and Dandy and I," he said then, "are going into the square. The rest of you will wait till w e pass the first adobe, then John"--he nodded t o Danaher--"you and two of your men will follo w to back us up. You other four men will stay her e with the horses, mounted in case anybody slip s through us."

  He looked at Ford Goss and Joe Tobin. "The cantina is on the right. The . . . fourth adob e down, next to a wall. You'll recognize it. Skir t around the back from here and watch the rea r door."

  Ford Goss said, "Do we shoot if they come out?"

  Almost as if he were anxious to.

  "If you see them," Frye said, "you'll know.

  Watch Clay Jordan."

  One of Danaher's men said, "I don't want any part of him."

  Frye looked at Merl, then to Dandy Jim.

  "Ready?"

  They both nodded and moved out into the open as he did. Frye and Merl carried Winchesters an d Dandy Jim held a Springfield carbine up diagonall y in front of him. Merl's Winchester had a large ringtype lever and he jiggled it silently as they walked across the open one hundred yards to the square.

  They were almost to the first houses. Not looking right or left, Merl said, "Did you see something cross the square? The other side of the bandstand."

  "I'm not sure," Frye murmured. He glanced at Dandy Jim. "Vio algo cruzar por la plaza?"

  Dandy Jim nodded and they were sure.

  Beyond the first house they stopped. They were now at the edge of the square and from here th e pueblo showed more life. Not all of the doors wer e closed against the rain and here and there the doorways were outlined by the cook fires inside.

  Merl White was looking toward the mescal shop. "The one over there with the ramada?"

  Frye said, "That's right," and pointed out the adobe to Dandy Jim. It was diagonally across th e square on their right; the front of it, doorway an d windows, in the deep shadow of the tin-roofed ramada.

  And looking at the shadowed front of the cantina Frye saw the muzzle flash as the shot was fired.

  The sound of it slammed across the square and another shot followed. Three in rapid succession then, and going down it was in Frye's mind that th e first one had been a rifle and the ones that followe d from a .44 Colt. Merl and Dandy Jim were both o n the ground with him, all of them down instinctivel y at the sound of the gunfire. There was a lull. The n two rifle shots, barely spaced, but there was not th e lightning-quick on-off flash in the darkness thi s time. Coming from the side of the house, Fry e thought. Suddenly there was firing from inside th e cantina. Another lull followed. And again gu n flashes at the front window. After that there was n o more.

  Rising to his feet Frye could hear the others approaching from behind, but he was still looking at the mescal shop. He saw the figure run from th e darkness of the porch going directly across th e square.

  One! It flashed in his mind. That's all there was.

  He called out, "Halt!" raising his Winchester, thinking of Sundeen, and Jordan. Merl was next t o him. Merl with his face against the stock and hi s eyes along the rifle barrel that edged steadily afte r the running figure.

  "Halt!"

  The figure broke his stride, turning, raising a rifle, and threw a shot at them. He was moving as he fired, hunched, running sideways, and his shot wa s high and wide. Merl hadn't lifted his head. He fired, aiming low, and the man went down, dropping his rifle, and his hands went to his thigh.

  Frye was running toward him, but he stopped at the sound of gunfire coming unexpectedly from of f beyond the adobes to the right. He turned, seein g Danaher running toward the mescal shop.

  Then Danaher stopped and now he was looking back the way they had come, shouting somethin g toward the openness and the dark expanse of th e aspen stand beyond. As the sound of his voic e echoed in the square, his riders broke from th e trees, angling across the open space and were suddenly out of sight beyond the first adobe.

  Merl White glanced at Frye. "Behind the cantina!"

  "That's where the firing was from," Frye answered. His Winchester was trained on the wounded man who was sitting, holding his thig h and rocking back and forth as if to ease the pain; b ut Frye was watching Danaher. The sheriff ha d reached the front of the cantina. Now he disappeared into the shadows and the men who were with him followed.

  Still watching, Frye moved to the wounded man.

  He glanced down, kicked the rifle away from him and as the man rolled back looking up, the fac e glistening wet and drawn with pain, he recognize d Earl Beaudry.

  "Don't hold the wound," Frye said. "Grab the inside of your leg and squeeze it tight." He sa w Beaudry's hand groping at his knee and he said , "Up higher. It'll stop the bleeding."

  Beaudry gasped, "God . . . somebody help me," t hen began to moan and rock back and forth again.

  "Quit moving. You'll keep it bleeding."

  "God, it hurts like fire!"

  Frye bent closer to him. "Wait about half an hour."

  "Get me a doctor--"

  "You'll get one."

  "Right now!" Beaudry would moan and close his eyes tightly, but open them when he spoke.

  "You'll have to hold your own a while," Frye said.

  "I could lose my leg!"

  "Earl, what were you shooting about?"

  Beaudry was silent, breathing heavily. Then he said, "I wanted to make them surrender."

  Frye smiled, but to Beaudry he said, seriously, "That was good of you, Earl."

  "There's Danaher again," Merl White said.

  Looking up, Frye saw Danaher coming out from between the cantina and the next adobe. He ha d gone through, out the back door, and now ha d come around. Behind him were his two men, an d following them were Goss and Tobin.

  Approaching, Danaher called out, "Who is it?"

  Frye waited until they were closer. "Beaudry."

  "What was he shooting for?"

  "Earl says he's on our side now."

  "I guess he would," Danaher said. "Let's get him in out of the rain."

  One of his men said, "He might catch cold."

  Beaudry screamed as they picked him up. They started to carry him to the cantina, but he groaned , "Not there!" and pointed to the adobe across th e square where the woman stood alone in the doorway. All about the square now doors were open and people were standing hesitantly watching.

  The woman stepped aside to let them carry Beaudry in, then moved to the hearth and placed o n more wood to build the fire, filling the kettle wit h water after that. Rising, she saw that they had lowered Beaudry onto the straw mattress.

  Merl White asked, "What was going on back there?"

  "Sundeen," Danaher answered.

  "He got away then," Merl said, and seemed disappointed.

  Ford Goss shook his head. "I don't want to see Jordan that close again."

  "What happened?" Merl asked him.

  "We were almost back of the place when the shooting started. We stopped there by a shed to se e what was going to happen and a minute later th e back door flies open and there's Jordan. Sundee n came next and then what must have been Tinda l and Stedman. They were moving fast for the stabl e shed that connects to the back of the place. The n Jordan spots us and he lets go like he's six me n shooting at once. His shots come zingin' throug h the corner of the shed keeping us back. Then the y stop. I stuck my head out and like to got it blow n off. Sundeen was in the saddle using his rifle whil e Jordan swung up. See, they must of had them already saddled. Then when we heard the horses Joe and me ran out, but all four of them were aroun d the stable shed before we'd fired twice."

  Frye said, "John, I saw your boys come out of the trees."

  Danaher shook his head. "They won't get them.

  It's too dark out in the brush. Sundeen co
uld hold up and let them ride right by."

  "And with the rain," Frye added, "by morning all the tracks'll be gone."

  Danaher took a cigar from his pocket, bit the tip off and lit it. "We've got time."

  "They're probably in Mexico by now," Merl White said.

  "Well," Danaher said, "that's all right too. If they stay hidden, the world's a better place to liv e in. If they come back, we take them." Danahe r looked at Frye. "What do you want to do?"

  "Take Earl back."

  Merl said, "Maybe some of us could stay hereabouts and look around."

  Frye nodded. "If you want to that'd be fine."

  "You never know," Merl said.

  They had stretched a tarp over the borrowed wagon that carried Earl Beaudry and most of th e way back to Randado Frye sat with him in the clos e darkness of it. The rain stopped during the earl y morning and they rolled back the tarp; but it wa s daylight before they reached Randado. There wer e figures in doorways and people standing by ramad a posts watching solemnly as they passed down th e street; watching curiously as they stopped in fron t of the doctor's adobe and lifted out Beaudry, stra w mattress and all.

  They had all returned except Merl White, Goss, Tobin and Dandy Jim.

  Danaher's men moved off across the street to the boardinghouse, but the sheriff and Frye waited t o hear the doctor's report.

  And after that, out in the street again--

  "He's got nothing to worry about," Danaher said. "When the bullet doesn't go all the wa y through, then it's time to worry."

  Frye's hand moved over his jaw, feeling the beard stubble there. "I better go tell Mrs. Beaudry."

  "What about the other women?"

  "I'll have to tell them too."

  "Why don't you go over and talk to the Tindals?

  I'll go up and see Beaudry and Stedman's women."

  "I could talk to them, John."

  "Seeing the Tindals is enough," Danaher answered.

  "Now?"

  "Might as well. I'll see you back at the office."

  Frye watched Danaher cross the street diagonally toward the last adobe building. The small residential hill was just beyond. Then he turned and crossed the street himself in the direction of Tindal's store.

  Milmary opened the door for him. She had been standing by it, watching, waiting for him to come , going over in her mind the words she would use , but now he was here and she said nothing.

  Frye removed his hat feeling it sticking to his forehead and nodded solemnly. Milmary passe d him and his eyes followed her to the counter. He r mother stood behind it.

  "Mrs. Tindal. Your husband's all right."

  Her mouth formed a smile, but the rest of her face did not smile, and her eyes were picturin g something that was not in the room. He could se e that she was trying to be calm, and pleasant. And i t went through his mind: Why did she ever marr y him? She was a plain woman, her hair parted in th e middle and drawn back tightly into a bun, thoug h there were thin wisps of hair not in place. He fel t sorry for her because he could picture her combin g her hair, trying to make it look attractive; but it wa s not attractive now, and probably it never had been.

  He felt sorry for her because she was plain, because no one would attach any importance to her, no t even in little things, though perhaps Mil would. He could picture Tindal scarcely paying any attentio n to her when she spoke. But she would serve hi m and smile when he expected her to smile and prais e him when he expected to be praised. And Frye fel t sorry for her because he knew she needed to b e held; but there was no one, not even Tindal if h e were here.

  "Mrs. Tindal, I'm awful sorry about this--"

  He hesitated. She was looking at him, but not trying to answer. "I wanted to talk to you before , but I never got the chance."

  Milmary asked, "Where is he?" Her voice seemed natural.

  He looked at her, conscious of his beard and his hair stuck to his head from the hat being on so lon g and his damp clothes shapeless and dirty looking.

  Maybe he smelled. All that riding, then under that hot tarp with Beaudry. He could feel her eyes o n him when he was not looking at her.

  He told them everything then, beginning with their arrival at La Noria. He told it quietly an d most of the time he looked at Mrs. Tindal.

  "Sundeen forced your husband to go with him, Mrs. Tindal. We know that for a fact."

  Milmary said, "Be sure you're not blamed for anything."

  "De Spain will testify that Sundeen forced them to leave his place at gun point."

  "That's noble of Mr. De Spain."

  "Mil, why don't you talk like you've got some sense?"

  She held his gaze silently for a moment. "Are you finished now?"

  "I guess I am." He started to put on his hat.

  "Kirby."

  He looked at Mrs. Tindal. She had not spoken before and now the sound of her voice surprise d him.

  "Did you see him, Kirby?"

  "No ma'am, I didn't."

  "What will happen to him?"

  "Nothing, Mrs. Tindal. This is kind of a game with Phil Sundeen. Soon he'll get tired of it an d come home."

  "He won't do anything to them?"

  "No ma'am, I'm sure he won't."

  Milmary said, "But when he comes back--"

  Frye nodded once. "He'll stand trial."

  "Will you take him to Yuma, too?"

  He ignored Milmary's question. "Mrs. Tindal, you can figure your husband won't get more than a fine, if that. Judge Finnerty's a friend of Mr. Tindal's." Frye smiled. "You know he wouldn't send him to Yuma."

  Milmary asked abruptly, "But what happened to Mr. Beaudry?"

  "He was shot in the leg trying to run."

  "How do you go about dodging that blame?"

  "Mil, he fired on us first."

  "Did you shoot him, Kirby?"

  "No."

  "That was decent of you, since he helped get you your job."

  He looked at Mrs. Tindal instead of answering.

  "Can I do anything for you, ma'am?"

  "Haven't you done enough?" Milmary asked.

  He thought: You asked for it. But she could have thought of something better than that to say. He felt his temper rise, hearing her words again in hi s mind. He moved to the door putting on his hat , then touched the brim to them and stepped outside.

  Maybe this is a good thing, he thought as he walked toward De Spain's. You get to know a person better when something like this comes up. Aft er you're married, how'd you like to have that th e rest of your life, everytime you have a disagreement? She'd give you that silent act. If you said something she had to answer, then she'd come bac k with the ice-water tone. I think I'd rather have a woman who throws plates. She'd get it out of he r system and it would be over with. Well, enough's enough. If she wants me, she knows where to come.

  He told these things to himself but he did not completely believe them. They made him feel better, that was all.

  He nodded to a group of men standing in front of De Spain's, then started across the street towar d the jail. His back was to them when he heard one o f them say, "Some people think they're pretty goddamn big."

  Frye stopped and half turned. One of the men was holding on to a support post staring at him defiantly. He was drunk and without the post would have fallen into the street. Behind him, four me n stood close as if in conversation. They paid no attention to the drunk, though before, when Frye nodded, the five of them had been standing together.

  He continued across the street and entered the jail office. Harold Mendez came away from th e window as he closed the door.

  "Harold." He nodded to the jailer. "I see you fixed the windows."

  "Digo did," Harold said, "he broke them. I tied his feet and held a shotgun behind his back while h e did it."

  Frye took off his hat and slumped wearily into the chair in front of the desk. He leaned forward t o unfasten his spurs, then going back, lifted his feet t o the desk and crossed them.

  "I saw yo
u come in with Beaudry," Harold said.

  "One of Danaher's men left his gear here. When he came in for it, he told me the whole thing."

  Frye was silent. Then he said, "How are they talking about it at De Spain's?"

  "I haven't been over there."

  "Did you see that just before I came in?"

  Harold nodded. "What did he say?"

  "Some people think they're pretty goddamn big."

  "He was drunk," Harold said. "When he's not cleaning the livery he's drunk. You never kno w what he'll say."

  "He didn't say it. The four behind him did. They poured the words in and he used them."

  "You have to expect a certain amount of that."

  "What are they saying, Harold?"

  "Well . . . last night a few men came over from De Spain's and one of them asked if the rest of th e people could consider themselves safe or shoul d they run too. It was supposed to be cutting, but h e sounded as if he was reading it. He said when th e manager of the bank and the town's leading merchant have to leave town, then it's time to look more closely at the one who's chasing them, and reconsider. Something like that."

  "Did you mention," Frye said, "Sundeen's Colt making them run?"

  "They're going back before that," Harold said.

  "Many of them took part in the hanging even if they didn't tie the knots. They're not wanted, bu t they probably still feel obliged to share a little o f the blame with Tindal and Stedman. The way to d o that is oppose you."

  "How do they feel about Sundeen?"

  "He's the biggest man around here. They're awed by him, even if they don't like him, and the y don't see how a young deputy who's only bee n here a month gets off chasing him out of town.

  People are scared to death of Phil Sundeen, but they still look up to him. Because he's got money i f for no other reason. A man with money must b e important."

  "Which is how the whole thing started," Frye said.

  "That's right."

  Frye shook his head. "There must be some sensible people here."

  "Plenty," Harold answered. "They're the ones that hardly even talk about it. They probably thin k we're all children."

  Frye was silent, but after a moment he said, "Harold, I'm tired."