“What about them?”
Odell looked at Granger in confusion.
Granger clapped his hands together and let out a high-pitched laugh. “I wish I’d been there to see the look on Jesse’s face when she opened that envelope! My God, I bet it was priceless.”
Odell led Connor back to the sofa and they sat down.
“Now, don’t tell me you’re the kind of man who doesn’t appreciate a bit of theater, Mr. Odell.”
“You sent my mother an ear?” Connor asked.
“Yes, I did.” Granger sipped his coffee.
“You said as long as I stayed here and cooperated with you and told her what a good host you were, everything would be all right,” Connor said.
“Well, everything is all right, isn’t it? You still have both your ears, don’t you? Now, hold your tongue while I’m talking to your grandfather before I have Igal tear it out and that’s what we’ll send her next.” Granger set his coffee down and smiled at Odell. “I apologize. Young men these days, you know? They have to be taught some manners. So tell me, what was Mrs. Granger’s reaction when she opened that envelope? Did she scream?”
“I wasn’t there,” Odell said. “I came afterward. By then she was just looking at it, trying to decide what to do.”
Granger snapped his fingers in disappointment. “Well, I’ll have to ask her in person about it, then.”
“I’m sure you can,” Odell said. “Just out of curiosity, where did you get a human ear?”
“Oh, you know. The usual places. One of my men got shot during our last visit to your ranch. He didn’t make it, I’m afraid, and it seemed wrong to waste a perfectly good set of ears. I almost sent her something else, but I am nothing if not a gentleman.”
“You are a gentleman, indeed, sir,” Odell said. “Since we sat down, I had the instinct that you were a good person and the fact that you did not harm my grandson just solidifies that initial feeling.”
“A confirmation of affirmation.” Granger smiled and set his coffee down. “Isn’t that delightful?”
“Yes, sir, I think it is. Now, I also know you are going to hear me out about this next part. I’m here to arrange the release of my grandson. But I wouldn’t insult you by just asking you to let him go, so I’m going to offer you myself in exchange.”
“Yourself?”
“Yes, sir.”
“That’s noble. Igal, don’t you think that’s noble?”
The giant only grunted.
“Well, what do you know about nobility anyway?” Granger snapped. He turned back to Odell. “I apologize. It’s early for him and Igal forgets his manners when he doesn’t get enough rest. Don’t you, Igal?”
Igal grunted again.
“It’s all right,” Odell said. “So, what do you think, Mr. Granger? Do we have a deal?”
“A deal about what?”
“You keeping me and sending this here boy back to his mother safe and sound. Now, I promise I won’t give you any trouble. I’m a man of my word. You keep me as whatever insurance you need to make sure Jesse negotiates with you fairly.”
Granger ran his tongue along the inside of his mouth and sucked on his teeth. He laid his hand over his heart and said, “I swear, there is nothing more touching than a granddaddy’s love for his grandson. I am moved, Mr. Odell. You came all this way in the middle of the night and walked right in here unarmed— Well, I meant without a gun. You know what I meant.”
“I do. It’s all right,” Odell said.
“I admire you, sir. Your daughter must be very proud to have you as her father.”
“I would like to think so, Mr. Granger.”
“That’s why it only makes sense that I keep you both.”
Odell leaned forward and cocked his head like he hadn’t heard. “You’re going to keep us both?”
“Yes, of course. That’s the only thing that makes any sense,” Granger said. “See, being that you’re such a selfless man and loving grandfather, I’m sure little Connor here won’t give us any trouble as long as we have you. Connor’s been doing his best to annoy me, you see, and all I could do was tell him all of the bad things that were going to happen if he didn’t quit. But now if he annoys me, I’m just going to have Igal and Ulai take you outside and play tug-of-war with your arms and legs. They’ll pull pieces off of you while little Connor here watches and we’ll see if they can’t learn how to juggle. Doesn’t that sound fun, Igal?”
Igal grunted.
“That’s more like it!” Granger said, and slapped his knee. He ran his hand over his hair again and said, “Now, show these two gentlemen to their rooms and make sure Mr. Odell has some civilized clothing to sleep in. Let no man say that Nelson Granger is an inconsiderate host.”
Igal came into the room and stood over Odell and Connor.
“Oh, Mr. Odell,” Granger said as Connor stood up to go with Igal. Granger leaned forward and waved for Odell to come closer. “Don’t be worried about what I said about Igal and Ulai ripping pieces off of you,” he whispered.
“No?” Odell asked.
“Of course not.” Granger smiled and clapped Odell on the shoulder and said, “It won’t be so bad. I can see you’re already used to it.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
A coughing fit made Sinclair get out of bed and stumble toward the nightstand in the darkness. The servant woman, Miss Rena, had given him a glass of water before he’d gone to bed and he’d set it there for the morning. He coughed again, cleared his throat, and drank the water. It made him cough worse. He coughed until he wheezed and had to bend forward and force himself to breathe slow until it ceased.
“Mr. Sinclair?” someone called out to him from the hall.
“I’m fine,” he said.
“Sir?”
“I said I’m fine! Go on back to bed.”
“It’s not that, sir. Mr. Odell is gone.”
Sinclair pulled the bedroom door open to find Miss Rena wringing her hands. “What do you mean, he’s gone?”
“I got up to get breakfast started and looked out on the horses to make sure they were all right, and I seen his wasn’t there. Then I went to the room where he was supposed to be staying and he wasn’t there. He’s gone.”
“That’s just typical,” Sinclair said. “Get everyone else up. We all need to talk.”
* * *
* * *
Jesse came into the kitchen with her hair undone. Everyone else was standing by the stove, drinking coffee. “What’s this about my father being missing?” she asked.
“He ran off,” Sinclair said.
“Jefe,” Escalante said disapprovingly, “we don’t know that.”
“The hell we don’t,” Sinclair said. “He’s a coward and he’s always been a coward. This is just him showing his true colors.”
“Bite your tongue before you so carelessly call someone else a coward, sir,” Jesse said. “What if Granger’s men came here in the night and took him? Did you ever think about that?”
“Nobody took him,” Escalante said. “Mirta and I tracked him from the house to the road. He definitely left alone, but we lost him after that.”
“Which way did he go?” Jesse asked.
“East.”
“So he went toward Granger, then.”
“He went east,” Sinclair said. “Damn fool could be anywhere by now.”
Jesse took a deep breath and then ran her hands down the front of her skirt. “No doubt, he’s run off to go do a very foolish thing by himself because I was so dismissive of him and you were so determined to make him feel like a useless cripple, Ash Sinclair. Well-done. Now my father will likely get himself killed and my son along with him.”
“We’ll get them both back, ma’am,” Escalante said.
“Like hell we will,” Sinclair said. “If that idiot wants to get himself captured, that’s his bu
siness. I’m here to get the boy, that’s all.”
“Very well,” Jesse said. “Miss Rena, prepare my horse. I’ll be leaving with these gentlemen. You will be in charge of the ranch while I’m gone. There is a shotgun in my room under the bed. If anyone comes to disturb you while we are away, shoot them dead.”
Rena looked horror-struck but said, “Yes, Mrs. Jesse.”
“Now, hang on one second,” Sinclair said. “You ain’t going.”
“Yes, I am.”
“This outfit already has one woman and the only reason she’s going is because she’s better with a bow than me or Lorenzo. All you’d do is be a liability.”
“I can hold my own,” Jesse said.
Sinclair slammed his hand on the table. “You’ll do as I tell you, woman! You’re staying and that’s final!”
Before he could finish speaking, Jesse’s hand flew up, clutching a bowie knife that she had hidden in her waistband. Her arm went up with the knife and whirled down with a crash against the table. Sinclair stared down at the foot-long blade sunk an inch into the wood, in the sliver of space between his index and middle fingers. There were slight traces of blood on the blade and his finger stung where the blade had nicked him.
Jesse’s eyes narrowed on Sinclair. “I helped settle this land. I can shoot. I can ride. I can hunt. I can fight. I can damn sure decide if and when I want to get my son and my father and so help me God, Ash Sinclair, if you ever talk to me that way again, I’ll cut off more than your tiny little fingers. You understand?”
Sinclair raised his hand to inspect his knuckle. The cut was not insubstantial and blood seeped out of it. He picked up a napkin and pressed it against the wound.
Jesse pulled the knife out of the table and hid it behind her back again.
“You know what?” Sinclair asked.
“What?” Jesse said.
His mouth twitched, and his eyes squinted at her. “I never liked you.”
“I never liked you neither, but we’re stuck with each other, so let’s stop dawdling and get ready to go.”
Sinclair pulled the napkin away and looked at the cut on his finger. It was still bleeding, but it would stop soon. “Let’s get ourselves situated, then.”
After everyone else left, Miss Rena dunked a fresh napkin in water and handed it to Sinclair. She took the bloody one and stuffed it in her apron.
“You know how to use a shotgun, Miss Rena?” Sinclair asked.
“No,” she said. “Not really.”
“Just aim the barrel at whatever you want to kill and pull the trigger. Don’t shoot them when they’re too far away, or all you’ll do is pepper them a bit. But if you let them get too close, you have to be ready to wipe their blood out of your eyes and shoot again.”
“That’s terrible, Mr. Ash! I can’t tell if you’re fooling me or not.”
“I’m not fooling at all. It’s the kind of thing that if no one tells you, when it happens, you won’t know what to think. But if I tell you, it still might take you by surprise, but at least in the back of your mind, you’ll remember me saying it and reach up to wipe your eyes. That just might save your life, Miss Rena. I hope so anyway.”
She took the damp washcloth from him and wrung it out in a barrel of fresh water and brought it back. When he reached for it, she held his hand and pressed the cloth against it for him. “Why are you so hard toward Mrs. Jesse? I hear the words you say to her, but when I look in your eyes, you don’t really mean them.”
“I don’t know,” Sinclair said. “It’s just the way things are between her and me. We never got along.”
“That’s not true and you know it. You don’t hardly know her at all. What’d she ever do to you except marry your son and have his baby and carry on your family name?”
Sinclair shrugged. “I guess it’s that she reminds me of Edna, my dead wife. I thought I settled all that with myself, but the way Jesse talks so abrupt and gives me hell, she sounds just like Edna used to. Can’t believe William married someone just like his mother.”
“He talked about you sometimes, you know.”
“Well, I’m sure it was nothing kind.”
“That’s not true. He used to tell the men around here stories about you. He made you out to be some kind of outlaw. A real one. They was all real impressed.”
“Well, as you can see, I’m nothing to be impressed by,” Sinclair said.
Rena let go of the cloth and said, “You keep that cloth on there until the bleeding stops. Come with me.”
He followed her out of the kitchen into one of the back rooms that was filled with cedar chests and cabinets and a pile of blankets in the corner. “I kept Mr. William’s things out here when they was out of season. He passed before I had the chance to bring his warmer weather clothes in.”
Rena opened up one of the chests and removed a white shirt, then pushed Sinclair in front of a dirty mirror. She held the shirt against his chest. “He was bigger than you, but I figure it should all fit well enough. Better than them old rags you’re wearing anyway.”
Sinclair looked at himself in the mirror. His beard and hair were white. His skin was sun beaten. His shoulders were stooped. His belly hung over the front of his pants. There were more holes in his shirt and pants than he’d supposed. His boots had holes in them too.
“What’s wrong with my clothes?” he asked.
“When that Nelson Granger came here, he was dressed in a bright green suit with a yellow hat and a big feather sticking out of it. Never seen anything like it. You don’t want to go there dressed like you just got finished skinning a skunk, do you?”
“I don’t suppose it matters much,” Sinclair said.
“Mr. William didn’t like any colors for his clothes. Everything was just black, black, black.” She pulled out a black hat and light black coat and handed them to Sinclair. Next, she found a black vest, a black bandanna, black pants, and a pair of fine black boots. “You go put these on and see how they fit.”
“I don’t have time to play dress up, Miss Rena,” Sinclair said.
“Go put them on, now. Wear these and you’ll be able to show that Mr. Granger and all his nasty little men.”
“What exactly am I going to show them?”
She pinched him on the cheek. “What a real outlaw looks like.”
* * *
* * *
Rena walked back toward the front of the house and found Mirta Escalante standing in the sitting room next to the fireplace. Mirta’s hands were behind her back as she looked up at a set of large deer antlers mounted on the wall. The antlers were set inside a thick wooden mounting plate and they curved outward with wide sweeping horns that branched off into sharp points.
“Can I help you with something, young lady?” Rena asked.
“I need these.”
“The deer antlers? Those were Mr. William’s prize antlers from two seasons ago. What on earth do you need those for?”
Mirta turned her head toward Rena. “Do you have any others?”
“No. I don’t think so. We buy all our deer butchered from town. Mr. William insisted on keeping them because he said it was the biggest deer anyone had shot in this county, and he wanted everyone to see it. At first he tried putting up the deer’s whole head, but Mrs. Jesse put up a terrible fuss and said it wasn’t decent to hang dead animal heads in her home. They finally settled on letting him put up the antlers.”
Mirta reached for the antlers and grabbed them by the thickest branch. She twisted and turned as Rena cried out, “What on earth are you doing?”
“I told you I need them,” Mirta said.
“You can’t just go taking things off the walls here! I will tell your father!”
Mirta grunted as she twisted the antlers and the mounting plate until she was able to hoist them off the wall. They were too heavy for her and she stepped back a
nd swung them around, almost crashing into the pictures and vases Rena had so carefully arranged inside the sitting room.
Rena grabbed ahold of the antlers to keep them from knocking into anything.
Mirta nodded toward the door and said, “There.”
“I’m only helping you do this because I don’t want you to destroy the house,” Rena said. “I’m going to tell your father and I hope he whups you.”
“Tell him,” Mirta said. “But help me get these onto the porch first. Be careful. They are sharp.”
They carried them onto the porch and set them down. Rena stood up to catch her breath and wiped her hands on her skirt. Mirta’s quiver and arrows were already sitting on the porch. She pulled the arrows out and spread them on the floor, then picked one up and held it against the light. The arrowheads were made of obsidian rock that had been filed down to razor-sharp points. Mirta turned it to inspect it from both sides, deemed it acceptable, and put it back in the quiver.
She picked up a second arrow and saw it had a dull tip. She looked at the antlers and searched for a flat stretch of bone with as many ridged surfaces as she could find. She laid the arrowhead against the antler, turned it sideways, and ran it back and forth along the antler several times.
The arrowhead left thin grooves filled with bone dust in the antlers and Rena said, “You’re ruining them! Stop that!”
“Your Mr. William, did he value antlers or his son?” Mirta asked. She lifted the arrowhead and looked it over again. It needed more sharpening.
“His son, of course,” Rena said.
“I’ll find you another deer better than this one, and you can hang it on your wall instead.”
“Better than this one?” Rena scoffed. “You must really think you’re something special, young lady.” She bent down and picked up one of the arrows to get a better look at it. “Where did you get these?”
Mirta kept sharpening. “I made them.”
“You must have Indian blood. I thought you were Mexican.”
Mirta shrugged. “My father says that before the Europeans came, all of this land belonged to the tribes. It was the Spanish who drew a line in the dirt and said, ‘This side is Mexico,’ and the English who said, ‘This side is America.’”
Ralph Compton Face of a Snake Page 15