He saw the opening and he saw a rider slash out of the trees in front of him and come around, his horse rearing with the sudden motion. Valdez broke out of the trees straight for the rider, seeing him broadside now and kicking his mount. He bore down on the man, raising the Remington in front of him, and at point-blank range blew the man off the back of his horse.
He was aware of horses behind him and felt the next man before he saw him or heard him coming up on the left. He switched the Remington to that hand, extending it at arms length, and when he looked, he fired as the rider fired and saw the man go out of his saddle. The mans horse kept running, racing him, and now he felt the wind in the open and saw the sun balanced on the west rim of the escarpment and heard the Erin womans horse holding close behind him.
A high whine sang through the narrows as a rifle opened up on him. He remembered the sound of gunfire in the canyon from a time before. He remembered the shadowed crevices high on the walls and the thick gama grass. But he remembered the meadow longer than this, a half mile long in his mind. Now it was not half that distance and he was almost to the end.
Another rifle shot sang out as he reached the defile and came around.
The woman would be there, behind him, and ride in and he would follow her.
But the horse that came behind him was riderless.
The horse veered off, seeing the canyon wall. As it moved out of the way, Valdez saw her: she was about thirty yards from him, her horse was down, and she was rising to her feet, holding
her head with both hands and looking at the dead horse.
He saw the segundo close beyond her, dismounting and coming up with a rifle in his hands. Valdez wanted to call out to her, Run! Come on, do it! But it was too late. The segundo came on, walking through the gama grass with the rifle in his right hand, his finger through the trigger guard. He stopped before reaching the Erin woman.
Valdez loaded the Remington not thinking about it, but loading it because it was empty and saying to the segundo with his gaze, You want to do something, come on, do it. He was tired, God, at the end of it, but this is what he was saying to the segundo. With the Remington loaded and cocked he walked out to the woman.
She stood with one hand covering the side of her face, dirt and pieces of grass on her dress and in her hair, as she watched Valdez coming. She looked tired and still afraid, her eyes dull and without question or hope.
Almost, uh? Valdez said.
Almost, the Erin woman said.
Are you all right? She nodded and he said then, You dont have to go back with him. Remember that.
A look of awareness came into her eyes, as if she had been suddenly awakened from sleep. Dont say that.
It has to be said.
I go with you. I dont go with him.
Frank Tanner doesnt know that. Valdez paused. He said then, Frank, smiling with the weariness etched in his face. Francisco. Francis. I had a friend named Francis. I dont know what happened to him.
He laughed out loud and saw the startled look come over her and saw the segundo looking at him.
He heard his own laughter again in the canyon and at the far end saw Frank Tanner and men on both sides of him coming out into the meadow. He saw Tanner stop, looking this way.
Gay Erin touched his arm, holding on to it. He said to her, I dont know why I thought it was funny. This Frank and my friend having the same name. Theyre not much alike. He smiled, still thinking of it, and watched the segundo approach, the segundo staring at him, trying to understand what would make him laugh.
With his left hand Emilio Avilar raised his hat and wiped his forehead with the same hand and put his hat on again. He said to Valdez, You have tobacco? For chewing?
Cigarette, Valdez said.
The segundo nodded. All right.
Valdez brought the sack and paper out of his pocket and moved toward the segundo, who stepped forward to meet him. The segundo rolled a cigarette and returned the sack to Valdez, who made one for himself, and the segundo lighted the cigarettes. Valdez stepped back, the cigarette in his mouth, the Remington in his right hand, pointed down.
The segundo said, blowing out smoke and shaking the match, Tell me something who you are.
What difference does it make? Valdez answered. He looked beyond the segundo to Tanner coming up with his men spread behind him.
You hit one yesterday, the segundo said. I think five hundred yards.
Six hundred, Valdez said.
What was it you use?
Sharps.
I thought some goddam buffalo gun. You hunt buffalo?
Apache, Valdez said.
Man, I know it. When?
When they were here.
You leave any alive?
Some. In Oklahoma now.
Goddam, you do it, the segundo said. You know how many of mine you kill?
Twelve, Valdez said.
You count them.
You better, uh? Valdez said.
The segundo drew deeply on the cigarette and exhaled slowly. He was looking at Valdez and thinking, How would you like about four of him? All the rest of them could go home. Four of him and no Tanner and they could drive cattle to Mexico and become rich. And then he was thinking, Who would you rather shoot, him or Tanner? It was too bad the two of them couldnt trade places. Tanner liked to put people against the wall. This one knew how to do it. He didnt need a wall. He could kill a man at six hundred yards, and the son of a bitch kept count.