Ralph Compton Face of a Snake

by Bernard Schaffer

  “Which part?” Sinclair asked.

  “You tell me,” Granger said.

  “Probably all of it, I reckon,” Sinclair said.

  The bell on the roof rang three times again, more urgently than before. Granger cocked an eyebrow and looked up at the porch’s ceiling. He shook his head and tapped the bowl of his pipe against the palm of his hand to loosen the tobacco inside. When he got the smoke flowing through it again, he put his lips on the stem and blew out a long stream of smoke. “You know, I knew your boy a bit.”

  “Is that right?” Sinclair asked. “Were you two friends?”

  “See, now, I wanted to be. William wasn’t a bad fellow, you know. Under different circumstances, I could have seen him and me doing business together. He could have been a guest at my very own table. His trouble was, he was headstrong. He didn’t want to do business the way it was meant to be done, and we had us a disagreement. I liked him, but he had a mean streak in him. He was pure stubbornness. You know what I mean? Looking at you, I can see where he got all that from.”

  “He must have gotten that from his mother,” Sinclair said. “Everybody knows me says I’m a regular delight.”

  Granger laughed. “I am sure they do. You know, I’m happy to see you here tonight. You just may be the answer to my prayers.”

  “Why’s that?” Sinclair asked.

  “Because you can help me achieve something I’ve been looking for this whole time. A peaceful resolution.”

  “You want a peaceful resolution?”

  “Yes, I do.”

  “Glad to hear it,” Sinclair said. “Send the boy out and we’ll be on our way.”

  Granger shook his head and smoked his pipe. “Would that it was that simple, Mr. Sinclair. By the by, you do know that young Connor is not my only guest. I also have his other grandfather, Mr. Odell. Did you know that?”

  “I just want the boy,” Sinclair said. “You can keep Henry.”

  Granger pointed his pipe at Sinclair. “You know something? I like you, sir. I really do. I can tell all them stories I read about you must be true. See, what I need you to understand is, this whole business between me and your dearly departed son, William, and now his Odell wife and half-Odell son, that don’t have nothing to do with you. It didn’t before, not for all those years when you were in the wilderness, and it don’t now. You had the right idea back then when you told William to be on his way.”

  Tremaine came running back through the door. He pushed past the other guards and whispered into Granger’s ear, “I’m ringing and ringing, but they ain’t coming.”

  Granger yanked Tremaine close. “What do you mean, they’re not coming?”

  “Well, I’m damned if I know, sir. They’re supposed to signal back except there ain’t no signal back and I don’t see anyone coming.”

  Granger turned his back to Sinclair and gritted his teeth. “Goddamn that idiot Bucky. He probably let them all get drunk and fall asleep down there.” He put his arm around Todd and said, “Get down to that camp and tell Bucky that if he doesn’t have those men here in the next few minutes, I’m going to skin his hide. I got the most dangerous outlaw ever lived standing right in front of me!”

  Tremaine looked over Granger’s shoulder. “That old man?”

  Granger shoved him toward the door and said, “Just go!”

  * * *

  * * *

  Tremaine burst through the rear door of the mansion and hurried down the steps, the rifle slung around his shoulder bouncing as he ran. He stopped at the bottom step in confusion. The hitching post was empty.

  He whipped his head back and forth. There were supposed to be three horses hitched there at all times. The distance between the mansion and the field where Bucky Dunning’s men were camped was full of green hills and darkness, but if there were no horses, he had no choice but to run, and that would take forever. He inspected the hitching post and saw the ropes had been cut. “What the hell?” he muttered.

  Behind him, Mirta Escalante touched the tip of an arrow to the inside of Tremaine’s right ear and said, “Don’t move.”

  Tremaine instinctively reached for his ear and Mirta sliced the tip of his fingers with the arrow’s sharp edge. He waggled his hand like he’d touched something hot and stuck his fingers in his mouth.

  “I told you not to move,” Mirta said. “Do it again and I will twist this in your ear.”

  “I won’t move. I won’t. I swear it,” Tremaine whined. “Who the hell are you people?”

  “My name is Jesse Sinclair,” said Jesse as she stepped out of the shadows with her knife drawn. She sliced through the strap holding Tremaine’s rifle with one pull and let it fall to the ground. “You sons of bitches took my son.”

  She pressed the tip of her knife against Tremaine’s eye. She pressed it so close that he blinked and several severed eyelashes scattered across the back of her hand. “Now, I’m going to ask you this but one time,” Jesse said. “You say you don’t know, I’m taking your eye.”

  Mirta pulled the arrow away from his ear and pressed it against his crotch. “You call out for help, I’m taking these. You understand, cholo?”

  Tremaine swallowed and said he did.

  “Where is Granger holding my boy?” Jesse asked.

  “In—he’s in the parlor,” Tremaine said.

  “Where is that?” Jesse asked.

  “Let me go and I’ll tell you.”

  Mirta pushed the arrow tip inward until its point broke through the fabric of Tremaine’s pants. He let out a high-pitched yelp and Jesse covered his mouth.

  “Let’s try this again. Where is the parlor?” Jesse asked.

  “Downstairs,” Tremaine said. “At the back of the house. Last door on the right,” Tremaine said.

  “Can you get there from the door you just came out of?”

  Tremaine nodded.

  “Who’s with him in the parlor?” Jesse asked.

  “Some old man,” Tremaine said. “I think it’s his grandpa.”

  Mirta clenched her teeth and grabbed Tremaine by the back of the hair. “We know that. Who else?”

  “Igal,” Tremaine whispered. “The giant. The big one.”

  Mirta and Jesse looked at each other. Mirta pulled Tremaine’s head back again and said, “You will take us into the parlor and tell the giant to let them go.”

  “He won’t listen to me,” Tremaine gasped. “If anyone but Mr. Granger comes into that room, Igal’s supposed to crush their skulls. He can do it too. I’ve seen him do worse.” Tremaine clenched his eyes and tears streamed down the sides of his face. “He’ll rip me to pieces for telling you all this. You may as well just kill me now.”

  Mirta scowled in disgust. “This cowering dog has told us all he can. Let me kill him.”

  “No,” Jesse said. She pulled the knife away from Tremaine’s eye and said, “You’re going to run. You’re going to run until you can’t run anymore and then you’re going to keep running. If you don’t”—Jesse nodded toward Mirta—“she’ll see you and she’ll do whatever she wants to you before she lets you die. Do you understand?”

  “I understand,” Tremaine said. “I’ll run as far as I can and you’ll never see me again.”

  “Good,” Jesse said. “Now, go.”

  Mirta shoved Tremaine and he stumbled forward into the grass. He leapt to his feet and ran for the trees without looking back.

  Jesse picked up Tremaine’s rifle and checked the chamber to make sure it was loaded. “All right. You go back to the meeting place and wait for everyone else.”

  “What about you?” Mirta asked.

  “I’m not running off while my son is in there,” Jesse said. “I came here to get him back and that’s what I intend to do.”

  “Then I’m coming with you,” Mirta said.

  “Your father would never allow th
at. Go on back to the meeting place.”

  “I am the daughter of Lorenzo Escalante and he would not abandon someone before a fight. So let’s go,” Mirta said. She nocked the arrow in her bow and crept toward the rear door.

  Jesse followed with the rifle raised. “You’ve never seen nothing like this giant before,” Jesse whispered. “Just be prepared and try not to get scared when you do.”

  “I’m looking forward to it,” Mirta said. “How many people can say they’ve killed a giant?”

  * * *

  * * *

  Granger heard someone moving behind him and felt himself relax. He glanced over his shoulder, expecting to see Bucky Dunning with a gun, followed by a dozen men. Instead, it was only Ulai standing at the front door, looking inside. “Do you see anything?” Granger whispered.

  Ulai wrinkled up his face and grunted.

  Granger wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. It came away covered in sweat. “So you see, Mr. Sinclair. This is what you’re going to do. You’re going to run on back to talk to your daughter-in-law and you’re going to let that little spitfire know that me and you had us a conversation. You’re going to tell her it went exceedingly well. You’re going to tell her everything is fine and that she has my solemn oath as a man of manners, wealth, and considerable property that no harm will come to those she loves as long as she signs those papers.”

  When Sinclair didn’t move, Granger said, “You understand all that, or do you want me to say it in simpler terms?”

  “Oh, I understood,” Sinclair said. “A man of manners, wealth, and considerable property.”

  “That’s correct. Well-done. Now run along.”

  “Wait. Did you mean you?” Sinclair asked.

  A few of the men around Granger snickered and he hissed at them to be silent.

  “See, the thing is, I’m not under the impression that Jesse is inclined to sign,” Sinclair said.

  Granger smacked his fist against his leg. “Then you’d best do everything in your power to make her sign. She doesn’t want me cutting pieces of her son and daddy off and fertilizing my crops with their body parts, does she? Now, Mr. Sinclair, I have been more than patient throughout this entire ordeal. Anytime I wanted, I could have sent my men down to her little old ranch and turned them loose on her. Then they’d have burned that entire place to the ground. Trust me, they’d do it. But instead?” Granger slapped himself in the chest. “Instead? Can’t you see that I am trying to prevent any more violence? Can’t you see how desperately hard I am trying to make peace?”

  Sinclair cleared his throat and took a minute to get the positions of all the men on the porch fixed in his mind. Two of the men were standing to Granger’s right. Three were on his left. The giant was standing directly behind Granger, his enormous shoulders slumped forward like they were too heavy with muscle to hold upright. The giant was also standing between Granger and the mansion’s front door. Sinclair liked that. That meant if Granger tried to retreat, there was six hundred pounds of human being he’d have to get around first.

  “Tell you what, Mr. Granger. Let’s meet in the middle,” Sinclair said. “Give me the boy as an act of good faith and I’ll go talk to Jesse and explain all the reasons it’s in her best interest to sign.”

  Granger lowered his head and shook it. He laughed bitterly. “You really aren’t listening to me, are you? I’m about tired of this charade. Todd?” he called out. When there was no response, he threw his head back and yelled, “Bucky!”

  Chuck Woolworth leaned close to Granger and murmured, “You want me to go check on them, sir?”

  “No, I don’t want you to go check on them,” Granger snapped.

  “Everything all right up there, Mr. Granger?” Sinclair asked.

  Granger forced a smile and said, “Of course. Everything is just fine and dandy.”

  “I’m sure,” Sinclair said. He took a deep breath and said, “Well, I reckon we’ve given this matter enough conversation. It’s time to decide, Mr. Granger.”

  Granger laughed in confusion. “But I’ve already given you my decision, Mr. Sinclair. It is you who must decide.”

  “That’s what I thought,” Sinclair said. “I just wanted to be sure, though.” He reached up and took off his hat with his left hand. He waved the hat in the air in a circle and threw it to the ground. He rested his hands on the buckle of his gun belt and he waited.

  Granger looked at the hat on the ground, then back at Sinclair.

  Sinclair felt his right eye twitch. The men on the porch stirred.

  “Was something supposed to happen?” Granger asked.

  “No,” Sinclair said.

  “Are you sure? You took off your hat there and waved it in a circle and then you tossed it aside.”

  “It fell off,” Sinclair said.

  “What— No, it didn’t. I just watched you reach up and toss it off your head.”

  “No, you didn’t.”

  Granger put his hand against his chest and looked at his men. “I swear to God, I thought someone was going to start shooting. I mean, the hat, the waving it around—for a second there, I thought that was the end.” He looked back at Sinclair. “But then you just stood there, doing nothing. Same as you’ve been doing this whole time.”

  “Fine. You want me to put my hat back on?” Sinclair asked. He bent over and picked the hat off the ground and fixed it back on his head.

  A shot rang out from the trees on Granger’s front yard, hundreds of yards behind Sinclair.

  The head of the guard standing next to Granger snapped back so that what remained of his face was turned upward toward the ceiling.

  Sinclair dropped to one knee and drew both revolvers. He fired both without aiming, just to lay bullets down range and keep the men on the porch confused and unsure of who was shooting at them or from where. It worked. The guards crashed into one another as they scrambled to escape.

  Another shot rang out from behind the trees and the Spencer put a hole in the chest of one of the guards that sent blood splashing across the porch. The other guards slipped in it as they tried to get behind cover.

  Sinclair fired again from both pistols. He winged Chuck Woolworth in the right arm and sent him spinning headfirst into one of the porch columns. He shot another guard in the throat. Escalante shot again from the trees. They were thinning the herd. Sinclair unloaded his left pistol into two more of the guards. None of them had managed to fire a shot off. It was a massacre. Only one guard remained. “Hey!” Sinclair called out to him.

  When the guard looked up, Sinclair shot him between the eyes.

  He watched Granger fight his way past the pile of bodies as they flailed across the porch. Sinclair cocked the hammer on his right pistol, but Ulai stepped in front of Granger before he could pull the trigger.

  The giant’s hands clenched into fists and he roared so hard, the corded muscles of his neck stood out. Sinclair fired from both snake guns, but they were empty.

  “Aw, hell, shoot him, Lorenzo!” Sinclair cried out.

  One of the guards had fallen across Ulai’s foot and now he flicked his leg and kicked the man’s corpse down the front steps. Ulai leapt down the steps and landed in a crouch on the grass. Then he stood and ran directly at Sinclair with the speed and force of a steam engine.

  * * *

  * * *

  Escalante slumped forward in the wagon’s seat and closed his eyes. He’d tried to keep them open, but it was no longer possible. He felt himself sliding downward, like a man going over a waterfall, but the waterfall ran inside of himself and pulled him from the surface where he was awake and alert down toward where it was dark and warm.

  He could hear his mother’s voice calling out to him. His father’s voice telling him it was all right.

  Mijo, we missed you. Come to us.

  He tried to resist, but it was so easy to go. So
easy to fall. He wanted to go into the darkness.

  “Lorenzo!”

  He heard someone calling for him from the surface world. The voices below said not to look back. It was time to die.

  Do not go, do not go, do not go, the voices whispered to him.

  Come with us, come with us, come with us.

  “Lorenzo, help!”

  Escalante forced himself to open his eyes and found himself sitting upright in the wagon, still holding his rifle. He blinked and realized the giant was running at Sinclair and roaring like a great beast. He raised the rifle and pressed his face against the wooden stock. The barrel swayed back and forth and up and down. It danced across the giant and above the giant but not on the giant. Escalante grimaced. His fingers were numb. He could feel his own blood streaming down his leg. His eyes closed. The waterfall enveloped him.

  “No!” Escalante shouted.

  He pressed the butt of the rifle against his shoulder as hard as he could to steady it and fired. The ground exploded beneath Ulai as he ran and sent him careening sideways. He crashed into the grass and hollered.

  Escalante leaned forward and could see the giant cradling his right foot. “I got you, bastardo,” Escalante muttered. He racked the lever and the spent shell ejected onto the wagon’s seat. He went to raise the rifle to shoot again, but instead, it slipped from his hands.

  “No,” Escalante sputtered. “No, no.”

  He reached for the rifle and his hands swept at nothing but air. His eyes fluttered. The rifle and wagon were dissolving into mist.

  The giant roared again and Escalante’s head snapped up. Ulai was on his feet, lurching toward Sinclair.

  Escalante forced himself to bend over and pick up the rifle. He shoved the open lever against the wagon’s rail to close it. He could no longer sit in the seat, so he let himself slide down to the floor. He could not get his left arm to work, so he used his legs and right arm to throw the barrel over the wagon’s rail.

  There was nothing left of him. The downward descent was too strong and there would be no coming back.

  He pressed his face against the rifle’s wooden stock and found the giant in the scope. He tried to pull the trigger, but it would not move. He’d fallen too far and nearly reached bottom. Death had him then. All of the voices of his loved ones were only death trying to trick him, and now it had wrapped him in its cold embrace. He was going. He wrapped his finger around the trigger and struggled to pull it. All of his strength had drained away.