He said to Mr. Tanner, This is where he was, if you want to see how he did it.
Tanner walked over, looking at the ground and down the slope. He had some luck, Tanner said, but its run out.
The segundo said nothing. Maybe the man had luck there was such a thing as luck but God in heaven, he knew how to shoot his guns. It would be something to face him, the segundo was thinking. It would be good to talk to him sometime, if this had not happened and if he met the man, to have a drink of mescal with him, or if they were together using their guns against someone else.
How would you like to have him? the segundo thought. Start over and talk to him different. He remembered the way Valdez had stood at the adobe wall as they fired at him, shooting close to his head and between his legs. He remembered the man not moving, not tightening or pleading or saying a word as he watched them fire at
him. You should have known then, the segundo said to himself.
Tanner had sent four to circle around behind Valdez on the ridge and close his back door. A half hour after they heard the gunfire in the distance, one of them came back.
The mans horse was lathered with sweat, and he took his hat off to feel the evening breeze on the ridge as he told it.
We caught them, out in the open. They had miles to go yet before theyd reach cover, and we ran them, hard, the man said. Then we see one of the horses pull up. We know it must be him and we go right at him, getting into range to start shooting. But he goes flat on the ground, out in the open but right flat, and doesnt give us nothing to shoot at. He opened up at about a hunnert yards, and first one boy went down and then he got the horse of this other boy. The boy run toward him and he cut him clean as he was a-running. So two of us left, we come around. We see Valdez mount up and chase off again for the hills. We decide, one of us will follow them and the other will come back here.
Tanner said, Did you hit him?
No sir, he didnt look to be hit.
You know where he went?
Yes sir, Stewarts out there. Hes going to track them and leave a plain enough trail for us to follow.
Tanner looked at the segundo. Is he any good?
The segundo shrugged. Maybe hes finding out.
They moved out, south from the ridge, across the open, rolling country. In the dusk, before the darkness settled over the hills, they came across the mans horse grazing, and a few yards farther on the man lying on his back with his arms flung out. He had been shot through the head.
Ten, the segundo thought, looking down at the man. Nine left.
Take his guns, Tanner said. Bring his horse along.
It was over for this day. With the darkness coming they would have to wait until morning. He took out a cigar and bit off the end. Unless they spread out and worked up into the hills tonight. Tanner lighted the cigar, staring up at the dim, shadowed slopes and the dark mass of trees above the rocks.
He said to the segundo, Come here. Ill tell you what were going to do.
8
Be thankful, Valdez told him.
Daviss saddle was on the ground in front of him, his hands tied to the horn. He was on his stomach and had to hunch his head down to take a bite of the pan bread he was holding. The Erin woman, next to him, held his cup for him when he wanted a sip of water. She listened to them, to their low tones in the darkness, and remained silent.
I dont even have no blanket, R. L. Davis said. Howm I going to keep warm?
Youll be sweating, Valdez said.
Sweating, man it gets cold up here.
Not when youre moving.
Davis looked over at him in the darkness, the flat, stiff piece of bread close to his face. You dont even know where youre going, do you?
I know where I want to go, Valdez answered. That much.
Toward the twin peaks, almost a days ride from where they were camped now for a few hours, in the high foothills of the Santa Ritas: a dry camp with no fire, no flickering light to give them away if Tanners men were prowling the hills. They would eat and rest and try to cover a few miles before dawn.
Ten years before, he had camped in these hills with his Apache trackers, following the White Mountain band that had struck Mimbreno and burned the church and killed three men and carried off a woman: renegades, fleeing into Mexico after jumping the reservation at San Carlos, taking what they needed along the way.
Ten years ago, but he remembered the ground well, and the way toward the twin peaks.
Valdez had worked ahead with his trackers and let the cavalry troop try to keep up with them, moving deep into the hills and climbing gradually into rock country, following the trail of the White Mountain band easily, because the band was running, not trying to cover their tracks, and because there were many of them: women and several children in addition to the fifteen or so men in the raiding party. He knew he would catch them, because he could move faster with his trackers and it was only a matter of time. They found cooking pots and jars that had been stolen and now thrown away. They found a lame horse and farther on a White Mountain woman who was sick and had been left behind. They moved on, climbing the slopes and up through the timber until they came out of the trees into a canyon: a gama grass meadow high in the mountains, with an escarpment of rock rising steeply on both sides and