Frank Tanner stood at the edge of the loading platform looking down at a group of riders, standing over them with his hands on his hips. A woman was behind him near the open doorway, not a Mexican woman, a blond-haired woman, golden hair in the sunlight hanging below her shoulders to the front of her white dress. Valdez looked at the woman until they were close to the platform and the riders sidestepped their horses to let the Mexican in, Valdez holding back now; and as they moved in among the riders he saw that one of them was the segundo. He saw R. L. Davis, then, mounted on a sorrel next to the segundo. He didnt look at Davis, who was watching him, but up at Tanner now, the man so close above him that he had to bend his head back, feeling awkward and unprotected and foolish with the woman watching him, to look at Tanner.
Tanner stared down at Valdez as if this would be enough, no words necessary. Valdez did not want to smile because he knew he would feel foolish, but he eased his expression to show he was sincere and had come here as an honest man with nothing to hide.
He said, Id like to talk to you once more.
Youve talked, Tanner said. You get one time and youve had yours.
Maybe he was joking, so Valdez smiled a little bit now, though he didnt want to smile with the woman watching him. I know youre a busy man, he said, but you must be a fair man also, uh? I mean you have all these people working for you. You recognize the worth of things and pay a just wage. A man like that would also see when someone is owed something.
Goddam, it didnt sound right, hearing himself speaking with his goddam neck bent back and Tanner looking down at him like God in black boots and a black hat over his eyes.
I mean if the woman was to go to the courthouse and say some men have killed my husband, by mistake, as an accident. So I think somebody should pay me for that dont you think the court would say sure and order that we pay her something?
Jesus Christ, R. L. Davis said. Valdez did not look at him, but he knew it was Davis. He saw Tanners eyes shift to the side, slide over and back to him again.
Im talking about whats fair, Valdez said. Im not trying to cheat anybody if you think I want to take the money and run off. No, you can give it to the woman yourself. I mean have one of your men do it. I dont care who gives it to her.
Tanner continued to stare at him until finally he said, You dont learn. I guess I have to keep teaching you.
Tell me why you dont think she should have something, Valdez said. You explain it to me, I understand it.
No, I think theres only one thing youll understand. Tanners gaze went to his segundo. You remember that one tried to run off with the horses?
Valdez lowered his head to look at the segundo, who was nodding, picturing something. The one who liked to walk, the segundo said.
Valdez heard Tanner say, That one, and the segundo continued to nod his head, then raised it and gazed about the square.
We can use the poles from the gate, the segundo said, looking toward the church, and have some more cut.
Tanner was saying, All right, and the segundo was looking at Valdez now. He nodded once.
Valdez felt the hand at his shoulder, fingers clawing into his neck as the hand clutched his bandana, and his own hands went to the horn of his saddle. He felt the Mexicans horse tight against his left leg, then moving away and the Mexican pulling him, choking him, until his hands slipped from the saddle horn and he was dragged from his horse, stumbling but not able to fall, held up by the Mexicans fist twisted in the tight fold of his neckerchief. They were around him and someone hit him in the face with a fist. It didnt hurt him, but it startled him; he was struck again on the back of the neck, then in the stomach, seeing the man close to him swing his fist and not being able to turn away from it. He went down and was kicked in the back, pushed over and pressed flat to the hard-packed ground. His hat was off now. A foot came down on his neck, pinning him, face turned to the side against the ground. Now they pulled his arms straight out to the sides and he felt a sharp pain through his shoulder blades as he was held in this position. Several minutes passed and he rested, breathing slowly to relax and not be tensed if they hit
him again. Boots were close to his face. The boots moved and dust rose into his nostrils, but no one kicked him.
They placed a mesquite pole across his shoulders that extended almost a foot on either side beyond his outstretched hands and tied it with leather thongs to his wrists and neck. They placed another pole down the length of his back, from above his head to his heels, and lashed this one to the crosspole and also around his neck and body. When this was done the segundo told him all right, stand up.
Valdez could not press his hands to the ground. He raised his head, turning it, and pushed his forehead against the hardpack, arching against the pole down his spine, straining the muscles of his neck, and gradually, kicking and scraping the ground, worked his knees up under him.