He had not eaten all day and had taken only a few sips of water. Now he ate some of the ham and biscuits and a handful of red peppers; he took a sip of the whiskey Inez had given him and a good drink from the canteen. Valdez was ready.
Crossing the meadow, he let his hand fall to the Walker Colt and eased the barrel in its holster. The stock of the Sharps carbine rested against the inside of his left knee, in the saddle boot; the sawed-off Remington hung on the right side, looped to the saddle horn by a short length of suspender strap. By now the lookout would have seen him and studied him and would be ready. Three of them yesterday came down to meet R. L. Davis, but one up there now would stay put and plan to take him by surprise. Valdez let the buckskin walk, but nudged his heels into its flanks as they reached the rocks and brush and started up the trail.
Now it comes, Valdez thought. When hes ready. Any time. He let himself slouch in the saddle, his shoulders moving with the gait of the horse, a rider climbing a trail, a man relaxed and off guard, in no hurry. Surprise me, he said in his mind to the lookout. Im nothing to be afraid of. Come out in the open and stop me. I could be one of your friends.
He was a little more than halfway up the slope when the rider appeared, fifty yards and three switchback levels above him. Valdez pretended not to see him and came on, rounding a switchback and reaching an almost level stretch of the trail before the man called out in Spanish, Enough!
The Mexican. Valdez recognized the voice and, as he looked up now, the shape of the man on his horse brown man and brown horse against the evening shadows of the brush slope. The Mexican came down the trail toward him, stopping and coming on again, the sound of his horses hooves clear in the stillness, reaching the level above Valdez, then tight-reining, his horse moving loose shale as he came down to the stretch of trail where Bob Valdez waited. The Mexican stopped about fifty feet away, facing him on the narrow ledge of the path.
I thought it was you, but I said no, that man carries a cross on his back.
I got tired of it, Valdez said.
Somebody found you, uh?
Somebody.
You had luck with you that time.
If people help you, Valdez said, you dont need luck.
Thats it, uh? I didnt know that.
Sure, like you and me, Valdez said. We can be friends if we want. We talk awhile. I give you a drink of whiskey. What do you think about something like that?
I think I see a lot of guns, the Mexican said. You come up here to talk and you bring all those guns? He was at ease, smiling now.
This little thing? Valdez raised the cutoff Remington in his right hand, his fingers around the neck of the stock, the stubby barrels pointing straight up. You think this could hurt somebody? Its for rabbits.
For rabbits, the Mexican said, nodding. Sure, there are plenty of rabbits around here. Thats what you come for, uh, to hunt rabbits?
If I see any maybe. No, I come to ask you to do something for me.
Because were good friends, the Mexican said.
Thats right. As a friend I want you to go see Mr. Tanner and tell him Valdez is coming.
The Mexican was silent for a moment, his head nodding slightly as he studied Valdez and thought about him. You come to see me, the Mexican said then. How do you know Im here?
You or somebody else, Valdez said. It doesnt matter.
You mean me and somebody else. Somebody over in the rocks behind you.
Ill tell you something, Valdez said. Ive been here all day. I saw three of you come and one of you leave. I saw one of you come and three of you leave. Theres no somebody else in the rocks theres just you in front of me. Thats all.
The Mexican watched him, unmoving. Youre certain of that? Youd bet your life on it?
Its on the table, Valdez said.
The Mexican grinned. What is this kind of talk with two friends? You want me to go tell him something? All right, I tell him. Put the rabbit gun down. He lifted his reins and began sidestepping his horse to turn around on the narrow trail. Looking at Valdez again, he said, You wait here, all right? I go tell him what you say and then I come back and tell you what he say. How is that?
Valdez
nodded. Ill be here. He lowered the shotgun, resting it across his lap.
Sure, stay right there. It dont take me any time.
The Mexican turned in his saddle and started away, his back to Valdez until he reached the end of the ledge and kicked his horse up over the shale at the switchback, and now, on the level above Valdez and seventy or eighty feet away, came back toward him.
Valdezs right thumb eased back both hammers, his finger curled inside the guard and felt the tension of the first trigger. The Mexican was spurring his horse now, kicking it to a gallop up the low angle of the trail, holding the reins in his left hand. Valdez saw nothing but the Mexican coming and it was in his mind that the man would go past him and suddenly turn and fire from behind. But thirty feet away closing to twenty, he saw the Mexicans right hand come up with the revolver and there it was, right now, the Mexican hunched low in the saddle, screaming Aiiiii for the horse or for himself, the revolver across the horses mane, the man offering only his left leg and side and shoulder, but it was enough. Valdez brought up the barrels of the Remington from his lap, and with the ten-bore explosion close in front of him, the Mexican came out of his saddle, flung back over the horses rump, his revolver discharging as he struck the ground, and the buckskin beneath Valdez throwing its head and trying to dance away from the man, and loose shale coming down the slope at them. The Mexican rolled to his back almost beneath the buckskin, his clothes filmed with fine dust, a dark, wet stain spreading from his side down over his thigh. His eyes were open and he had his left arm tight to his side.