They'll send for him when they get ready." He was referring to the Fort Huachuca Cavalry Patrol.
"Like Danaher sending for the two cattle thieves."
Frye moved to the window thoughtfully. "Do you know if Tindal's across the street?"
"I think so. What are you going to do?"
"Talk to him, or one of the others."
"Wait a while."
"I've got to sooner or later."
"Not tonight." Harold Mendez shook his head as he spoke. "They've been over there drinking an d playing poker. They even had their dinner brough t in so they wouldn't have to leave."
"They're really celebrating--"
"Listen, why don't you go to bed? Then tomorrow you can talk to them one at a time."
But you don't come home, find out something like this has happened and just go to bed, Frye wa s thinking. They must have been drunk to do it.
No . . . Sundeen. This was probably Sundeen's idea and those men would go out on a long limb to loo k good in his eyes. "Harold, who was the leader?"
"They say Tindal at the meeting. But he'd make speeches in an outhouse if someone would go i n with him to listen."
"Sundeen then."
Harold nodded. "Tindal might think he organized it, Stedman might think his weight influenced the others . . . but it was Sundeen behind it. Sundeen drinks too much and he talks loud, but I think he watches, and he understands these men."
"When did he get back?"
"Yesterday. He came to town last night just before you left. He was in the Metropolitan with the committee heads for a long time." Harold studie d Frye for a moment standing by the window. "Listen, I don't mean to sound disrespectful, this Tindal might be your father-in-law someday . . . but yo u know how he talks: 'Sure, General So-and-so, I remember a humorous account he told at dinner one time . . . ' Or the way he looks off in the distanc e sucking his teeth like he's calculating a weight y problem, and all the time he doesn't know a goddamn thing. I don't like to say that, but that's the way he is. You haven't been here long as a grownup, but you should know it yourself b y now."
"You can't pick your father-in-law," Frye said.
"Like he's trying to pick his son-in-law," Harold said. "He'd give his right one to have her marr y Sundeen."
"Well, that's something else. Was De Spain there?"
"I don't think so."
"Or Hanasian?"
"I don't think he was either."
"And they've been in there ever since--"
"They came out just the once."
"When?" Frye looked at him.
"I thought you'd heard."
"No."
"Did you hear about Merl White being there earlier?"
Frye shook his head.
"Merl and some others wouldn't join Phil. Merl said they'd quit because Phil hadn't paid their trai l wages."
"Why not?"
"Why does Phil need a reason? Like riding his horse into De Spain's. He does what he feels lik e doing. Right out in front of everybody Phil tol d Merl to come over to De Spain's after and he'd settle up. Well, Merl went over. He and two others walked into De Spain's and a few minutes later the y were carried out. The story is, Sundeen thre w whisky in Merl's face, then Digo hit him. The othe r two stood there until Digo started at them. The y each took one swing before they were on the floor.
Then Digo pulled their boots off and carried them one at a time to the porch and threw them out i n the street. I saw what happened after that. Sundee n came out and this new man with him--"
"Who's that?"
"Jordan. Clay Jordan."
Kirby shook his head, not knowing the name.
"They stood on the porch until Digo came with horses, then Sundeen and Digo made them run , shooting at their feet. Sundeen went back inside , but Digo and some other Sun-D riders went out after them and made them keep running until they were out of sight . . . without any shoes on."
"No one sided with Merl then?"
"Of course not."
"And nobody's gone out to find them?"
"About two hours after it happened I took a wagon and started out. I wasn't even beyond th e last house when Digo rode next to me and sai d 'Where are you going?' "
Frye's eyes were on Harold, but he said nothing.
"I told him nowhere and turned the wagon around." Harold sat down and his fingers touche d his nose, stroking it gently.
Frye was leaning against the window frame, watching him. After a moment he said, "It's al l right, Harold."
"I'm not apologizing," the jailer said.
"You don't have to."
"What if I had tried to stop them? I mean before.
I would be dead now. I couldn't see where it would be worth it."
"It's all right."
"You're goddamn right it is," Harold said.
"Why don't you go home now?" Frye said.
Harold looked up at him. "I'll go over with you if you want me to."
"No, you go on home."
"What are you going to do?"
"Just talk."
"Don't try to arrest them They'll laugh at you."
Frye was silent. Then he straightened and walked away from the window. "It's a hell of a thing, isn't it?"
Harold nodded. He watched Frye open the door, then he rose slowly and followed him.
Clay Jordan saw them first, because he was facing the open doorway. Sundeen was on Jordan's left , then around the table, Stedman, Tindal an d Beaudry; Sundeen dealing cards over the stacks o f poker chips in front of him, the other three watching. They were in De Spain's cardroom.
Past Tindal's right shoulder, through the doorway, down the length of floor in front of the bar to the double doors, Jordan was looking straigh t ahead and he saw one of the doors push in. He recognized Harold Mendez, and from that knew who the younger one, the one who came first, must be.
He said nothing to Sundeen, but watched them come down the length of bar, passing Digo standing midway at the bar, Digo realizing they were there and turning to look after them. As Fry e neared the doorway, Jordan's gaze went unhurriedly from the stiff-brimmed hat and the shadowed eyes to the Colt on the right hip and the hands hanging loose, then back to the eyes as Fry e stopped inside the doorway.
"Mr. Tindal--"
Tindal looked over his shoulder, then smiled turning in the chair. "Kirby! Come on in, boy!"
Frye moved closer to the table. "Mr.
Stedman . . . Mr. Beaudry--" He only nodded to Phil Sundeen because it had been a long time sinc e he had seen Phil and he wasn't sure what to cal l him. He glanced at Jordan, then looked at Tinda l again.
"Could I speak to you a minute?"
Tindal frowned. "What about?"
"This afternoon--"
"Oooh, that." Tindal's narrow face grinned.
"You heard about it, uh?"
"Yes, sir."
"Well . . . I'll explain it to you tomorrow, Kirby.
We're right in the middle of a hand. Sit down there and order what you want. Put it on my bill."
"I thought this might be important enough to talk about now," Frye said. He heard Stedman say , "I call," and saw him push two chips toward th e pot.
"Sure it's important," Tindal said, "but it'll keep till tomorrow."
Stedman said, "What do you do, R. D.?"
Tindal glanced at his cards. "How much to stay?"
"Two dollars."
"I'm in." Tindal had less than ten chips in front of him. He took two off the top of the stack an d dropped them on the pile of chips in the middle o f the table.
"Mr. Tindal, I want to find out your side--"
Beaudry threw his cards down. "I fold."
Frye glanced at Beaudry, then to Tindal again whose back was toward him now. He moved to th e side so he could see Tindal's face. "I'd like to kno w how you could do a thing like that."
Clay Jordan pushed two chips away from him.
"Some people don't know enough to go home," he said mildly. He glanced a
t Sundeen. "You'r e called."
Tindal turned his head, but did not look up at Frye. "Kirby, I said tomorrow!"
"Mr. Tindal, I can't find out something like this has happened and just go to bed and forget abou t it."
Jordan looked at Frye momentarily. "Maybe you better try."
Sundeen's hand slammed down on the table spilling the chips in front of him. "Goddamn it , we're playing poker!"
"All right, Phil," Stedman said quickly. He glanced at Frye. "Just a minute, Kirby." Then t o Sundeen, again, "What've you got, Phil?"
Sundeen showed his hand. "A pair of ladies over," he said sourly.
"That beats me," Stedman said. He threw in his hand watching the others and saw that they wer e beaten too. "All right," he said then, "let's just tak e a minute and explain to Kirby what we did. Now I t hink being deputy sheriff he's entitled to some explanation." No one spoke.
Stedman took his time now. He said, "Kirby, briefly . . . the committee met this morning. We used our own God-given authority to set up a judicial system for our city. R. D. was elected public prosecutor and I, I was honored to accept as municipal judge. Then, under the power vested in us, we tried the two outlaws you brought in. Twelv e men found them guilty, Kirby. Twelve men, afte r R. D. presented the evidence against them. I the n felt it my duty to prescribe the death sentence. Fo r the main reason, to let it be known how we dea l with outlawry and that way discourage any futur e crimes against Randado. Kirby, this was done wit h clear conscience and, as I said before, through a God-given authority."
"Mr. Stedman," Frye said, "you know better than that."
Stedman looked at him surprised, then his eyes half closed to a squint. "We're not going to argu e with you, Kirby."
Suddenly it was clear and he should have known it before, but this brought it out into the open without any words wasted. They considered him of litt le importance. Of no importance! Standing by th e table he had felt self-conscious with no one payin g any attention to him, but now he was suddenly angry realizing why. These were older men who didn't have to listen to a boy who'd only been deputy a month and before that never in his life had a n ounce worth of authority. He felt his face flush an d he said, "I'm not going to argue either. Tucson get s the report first thing in the morning. You can argu e with them." He turned to leave.
"Kirby!" Tindal was around in his chair. He waited, sucking his teeth, making sure Frye woul d stay. He saw Harold Mendez just inside the roo m and Digo lounging in the doorway. "Kirby . . . y ou're a good boy. You work hard and you kee p yourself presentable . . . but"--Tindal looked hi m up and down carefully--"maybe you're not a s smart as I thought you were."
Frye waited, with his respect for this man fading to nothing.
"We've been on this earth a little longer than you have," Tindal said, and nodded, indicating the me n at the table. "And I think maybe we've collected a little more common sense and judgment. That's nothing against you, Kirby, it's just you're youn g and got a little bit to learn yet."
Frye said, "Yes-sir."
"Now, Kirby, I want to remind you of some-72 t hing. We passed on your appointment as deputy.
We could have gotten someone else, but we talked it over and decided you had the makings of a goo d one. Technically, you work for Danaher up in Tucson, but not if we hadn't passed on you. We used our judgment, Kirby . . . and our authority. Remember this, boy, as long as you're deputy you work for the people."
Frye said, "And all the people hung those two men?"
"A majority is all that's necessary," Stedman said.
"After you hung them," Frye asked quietly, "did you bury them?"
"Mendez took care of that," Beaudry said.
Frye looked at him. "Didn't your authority cover that?"
Tindal chuckled softly. "Kirby, now you're talking foolish."
Frye turned on him suddenly. "Doesn't killing two men mean anything to you?" He felt the ange r hot on his face again.
Sundeen, sitting low in his chair, was fingering the chips in front of him. He said to no one in particular, "You picked yourself a beauty." He looked sideways at Jordan. "Why does he pack that gun i f he's so against killin'?"
Jordan said, "Maybe it makes him feel important."
"Now if it was me," Sundeen said, "I wouldn't pick a deputy that whined like a woman."
Jordan was looking at Frye. "Maybe that's what this deputy is . . . only dressed up like a man."
Sundeen grinned. "Maybe we ought to take his pants off and find out."
Tindal chuckled. "Come on, Phil . . . don't be rough on him."
Frye held his eyes on Sundeen. Keep looking at him, just him, and don't let him think you're afraid.
He's not an animal, he can't smell it, he has to use his eyes. Just Sundeen--he felt his anger mounting-GCo a nd don't look at the other one, don't even thin k about him. He looks like he would fight with a gun , not with his fists, and you don't know anythin g about him. One thing at a time.
"Sundeen, if you want to try, stop by the jail tomorrow."
"Clay," Sundeen grinned, "did you hear what he said?"
Jordan was still looking at Frye. "Why would you wait till tomorrow?"
"That's what I was thinking," Sundeen said. He looked past Frye to Digo who still lounged in th e doorway. "You hear what he said, Digo?"
Digo straightened. "I heard him."
"You think we should wait till tomorrow?"
"What for?"
Sundeen was grinning. "Can you do it alone?"
"Sure."
"All right. Get his pants off in two minutes and I'll buy you a drink."
"All the way off?"
"Just down."
Frye heard Digo behind him. Suddenly no more could be said because it was handed to Digo an d Digo wasn't a talker, and with it there was hardl y time to think about being afraid, only that you ha d to do something fast, without waiting.
He took a half step back turning, cocking his right fist, starting to swing at Digo who was almos t on him, and Digo was seeing it, rolled head an d shoulders out of the way. There it was. Frye shifte d and jabbed his left fist hard into Digo's face. Th e face came up exposed for part of a second and Fry e was ready. He swung hard with his right and Dig o went back against the wall, his head striking th e adobe next to the door frame. He started to g o down, but he held himself against the wall an d shook his head, clearing it and now wiping th e blood from his mouth with the back of his hand.
Frye was on him again. He feinted, jabbed and swung, his fist landing solid against Digo's cheek , then the left, the right again, now to the stomac h and a cross over to the face as Digo's guar d dropped. Digo was covering, hunching his shoulders, but suddenly he swung.
His big fist came up from below grazing Frye's chin, making him go back, and there was Digo's moment. Frye was open and Digo bore in, missin g with his left but catching Frye's jaw with his right.
Frye counterpunched with the ringing in his head, hitting Digo's face, but now Digo did not go back.
An animal grunt came from him and he waded into Frye taking the stinging jabs, then swinging har d and now finding Frye's face with most of his blows.
His guard went up and Digo's fist slammed into his stomach. Then the wall was behind him har d against his head, jolting his back, Digo swingin g and the soft smacking sound of his fist agains t Frye's mouth. He tried to cover himself and Dig o hammered through his guard, a grunting jab to th e stomach. Frye's forearm went up for the blow t o the head that would follow but it didn't come an d again his body slammed against the wall as Dig o went after his stomach.
He swung right and left backing Digo off, but only for a moment. Digo came again, taking jabs t o the face and body as he closed in. He swung once , grazing Frye's head but his follow through wa s hard against Frye's cheekbone sending him back of f balance. He kept after him until Frye was agains t the wall again and then he swung with every poun d of his body behind it. Frye started to go down, bu t Digo held him by the front of his shi
rt and hit hi m again and again and again and each time he di d Frye's head slammed against the adobe wall.
"That's enough, Digo!" Tindal screamed.
Digo let him fall. He backed away breathing hard, wiping his mouth. "He needs only twent y more pounds," Digo grunted, "and it could hav e been the other way."
Sundeen said, "You didn't do it."
Digo looked at him. "More than two minutes?"
Sundeen nodded. "But take his pants off anyway."
It was well after midnight when the wagon rolled into the street and stopped in front of the Metropolitan Cafe. Light framed the painted windows of De Spain's, but now there were no sounds from inside and across the street the windows of the jail office were dark. The street was silent, though the crickets could be heard if you listened for them.
Haig Hanasian climbed off the wagon seat and for a moment disappeared into the deeper shado w at the door of his cafe. He unlocked the door an d returned unhurriedly to the wagon and close to th e sideboard he said, "All right, come this way."
A man rose to his hands and knees in the wagon bed. He hesitated, then dropped silently over th e sideboard of the wagon and as he did, two figure s rose slowly, cautiously and followed him over th e side. Haig Hanasian held open the door and the y passed by him into the darkness of the cafe.
They stopped as he closed the door. "Be very quiet," he said. "The tables are just to your left al l the way to the back. The counter stools are alon g the right. Walk straight and you will not bump anything." He moved past them and they followed his steps to the kitchen. They heard him close the door.
A match flared in the darkness and Haig lighted the lamp that was above the serving table.
The three men, who were in range clothes and watched Haig with full-open shifting eyes in dirtstreaked faces, were the men Sundeen had forced out of town. Merl White and the two Sun-D rider s who had sided with him.
Haig said, "Sit down," glancing at them and then at the smaller table against the wall, then a t their swollen bare feet, the shreds of wool sock s and the traces of blood on the floor as they move d to the table. Haig pulled the chairs out for them. He began clearing the few soiled dishes from the table , but hesitated as he picked up the plate with th e brown paper cigarette mashed in it. He put thes e dishes on the serving table, then went to the stove.
Elmore Leonard's Western Roundup #2 Page 5