and sold them. He bought a few old Whitworth field pieces and sold them too. Hed made money and met people who knew people and pretty soon he was even selling remounts to the United States Cavalry at Fort Huachuca. And that was where he saw the woman, the girl or woman or however you wanted to think of her, there at Huachuca, married to the drunk-ass sutler, who never went a day without a quart of whiskey or a bottle of mescal or even corn beer if he couldnt get any mescal. There she was, the one hed seen every day at Yuma and about every day since, the blond golden-haired girl who was built for the kind of man he was, sitting in their place talking to the drunk-ass sutler and looking at the woman every chance he got. A year of that; a little more than a year. Talking to her when he wasnt around and trying to find out things about her, about them. Trying to find out if she felt anything for the drunk or not. She felt something when he beat her sometimes you could see the bruises on her face she couldnt hide with powder but maybe she liked it. You could never tell about women.
He would have taken her away from the drunk alive, and once he was dead there wasnt anything else to think over. He took her and she came with him. He would marry her, too, but he had things to do and shed have to wait on that; but in the meantime there wasnt any reason they couldnt live as husband and wife. She saw that and agreed, and she was better than he ever imagined in Yuma she would be. She was real now and she was his, and there wasnt any goddam broken-down Mexican nigger-loving town constable going to run off with her into the hills and threaten to kill her. Valdez, or whatever his name, was a dead man and he could roll over right now and save everybody a lot of time.
Tanner was looking off at the hills that climbed into the Santa Ritas and the twin peaks, far away against the hot sky.
Whats up there? he said to the segundo.
Nothing, the segundo answered.
Why would he want us to track up there?
I dont know, the segundo said. Maybe hes got a place somewhere.
What kind of place?
An Apache camp hes been to, the segundo said. He knows the Apache the thing he did to the three of them in the open country, hiding where theres no place to hide.
He didnt seem like much, Frank Tanner said.
Maybe, the segundo said. But he knows the Apache.
R. L. Davis got drunk trying to work up nerve to tell what he did to Bob Valdez and never did tell it. He went over to Inezs, but they wouldnt let him in. Then he didnt remember anything after that. He woke up in the Maricopa bunkhouse when a hand came in and poured water all over him. God, he felt awful. So it was afternoon by the time he got out to Mimbreno.
There seemed to be more activity than the time he was here before, more men in the village sitting around waiting for something, and more horses and more noise. He rode up the street not looking around too much, but not missing anything either. He hoped Mr. Tanner would be outside, and he was, the same place he was the last time, up on the loading platform. The problem was to tell him before Mr. Tanner gave any orders to have him run off or tied to a cross or whatever he might do; so he kept his eyes on Mr. Tanner and the second he saw Mr. Tanners gaze land on him, R. L. Davis yelled out, I know where he is!
They looked at him, all the people standing around there, and let him ride over toward the platform where Mr. Tanner was waiting.
I think I know where he is, R. L. Davis said to Mr. Tanner.
You think so or you know so, Tanner said.
Id bet a years wage on it.
Where?
A place up in the mountains.
I asked you where.
I was thinking, R. L. Davis said. Let me ride along and I can show you. Take you right to it.
Tanner kept looking at him deciding something, but showing nothing in his face. Finally he said, Step down and water your horse.
6
Earlier this morning, once it was light, he had looked back. He stopped and looked back for some time as they were crossing flat, open country. When they reached the trees he made her dismount and tied their horses to a dead trunk that had
fallen. She watched him walk out of the trees, out across the flats until he was a small figure in the distance. She watched him squat or kneel by a low brush clump and then she didnt see him again, not for more than an hour, not until the three riders appeared and she heard the gunfire. He came back carrying his shotgun; they mounted again and continued on. She asked him, Did you kill them? And he answered, One. Maybe another. She asked, Why didnt you tie me? I could have run away. He said to her, Where would you go?
They spoke little after that. They stopped to rest in a high meadow and she asked him where they were going. Up there, he answered, nodding toward the rock slopes above them.
Another time she said to him, Maybe you dont have a natural call to do certain things, but I do. He smiled a little and told her to go ahead, he wouldnt look. She stayed on the off side of her horse and didnt know if he looked or not.