Ask him if hes sure its the same one, Tanner said.
The segundo stepped close to the Mexican again. He knew he was dead as he looked at him, though the mans eyes were open, staring at the sky.
The Mexican had reached the village, his head hanging, letting the horse take him, but he seemed to be still alive as he entered the street between the adobes.
You can die any time after you tell them, Valdez had thought, watching through the field glasses at the top of the trail. He had nothing against the man except a kick in the back and the certainty the man had wanted to kill him. He knew the man would die, and it would be better if he did; but he didnt wish the man dead. It would happen, that was all.
Soon they would come out. They would come out in all directions or they would come strung out across the graze toward the trail into the hills. As the Mexican had reached the adobes, Valdez had climbed higher, off the trail now, leading the buckskin up into the rocks. From here he watched the three riders coming first, letting their horses out across the open land. They came up through the ravines and went down the switchbacks on the other side, not stopping. Three more came behind them, but not running their horses, taking their time. They climbed over the trail looking at the ground; coming to the place where Valdez had shot the Mexican they dismounted.
There were others coming out from the village, fanning out, not knowing where they were going. They were nothing. The three looking for his sign were little better than nothing; they had less than an hour of light and no chance of catching up with him. He counted seventeen men who had come out of the village. There would be others with the herd and perhaps others somewhere else. There was no way of knowing how many still in the village. There was no way of knowing if Tanner had come out or was still in the village. He would have to go there to find out. And if Tanner was not in the village he would have to think of another way to do it and come back another time. There was no hurry. It wasnt something that had to be done today or tomorrow or this week. It could be done any time. But youd better do it tonight, Valdez said to himself, before you think about it too
much. Do it or dont do it.
Do it, he thought. He took a sip of the whiskey and put the bottle back in the warbag that hung from his saddle.
Do it before you get too old.
He took the reins of the buckskin and began working down through the rocks toward the village. He would circle and approach from the trees on the far side, coming up behind the burned-out church.
The clerk from the Republic Hotel, as soon as he was off duty, went over to De Spains and asked if the three Tanner riders had been there.
Hell, yes, they had. Theyd been here and to Bob Valdezs boardinghouse and the Hatch and Hodges office and had stuck their heads into almost every store along the street. They moved fast and didnt waste any questions and you could tell they wanted him bad. Bad? Did you see the sign out in front? Nailed to the post?
It was a square of board, and one of them had lettered on it with charcoal: BOB VALDEZ IS A DEAD MAN. ANYONE HELPING HIM IS ALSO DEAD.
That was how bad they wanted him. They were going to kill him.
If they ever found him. Where the hell was Valdez? Nobody knew. Nobody remembered seeing him in days. The last time was Saturday when he rode out to see Tanner. No, somebody said, he had made the run to St. David the next day. How about since then? Nobody could recall. Maybe hed been around; maybe he hadnt. Bob Valdez wasnt somebody who stuck in your mind and you remembered.
Mr. Malson said to Mr. Beaudry, If hes got Tanner on him and knows it, hell be seven hundred miles away by now. Or farther, Mr. Beaudry said. If he dont know it, somebody said, then hes a dead man, like the sign says. There must be something wrong with his head, Mr. Malson said. Christ, we should have known it the minute he started talking about the Lipan woman something was wrong with him.
R. L. Davis didnt say anything. He wanted to, but he still wasnt sure what people would say. They might say he was crazy. If hed pushed Valdez over in the sun, then what had he gone back for?
Theyd listen to him tell it. Sure, I pushed him over. I was teaching him a lesson for coming at me with the scatter gun the other day after he shot the nigger. Theyd look at him and say, You killed a man like that? Like a Indin would do it?
And hed say No, I was teaching him a lesson is all. Hell, I went back and cut him loose and left him a canteen of water. And theyd say, Well, if you cut him loose, where is he? Somebody elsed say, If you wanted to kill him, what did you cut him loose for?
And hed say, Hell, if theres something between me and Bob Valdez, well settle it with guns. Im no goddam Apache.
But he had a feeling they wouldnt believe a word of it.
All right, three days ago hed left Valdez in the meadow. And this evening Tanners men come in looking for him and write his death sentence. So Valdez must have gone back and done something to them.