Elmore Leonard's Western Roundup #2

by Elmore Leonard

  "Maybe that's the thing to do."

  "Hell yes it is. Phil's got a nose for women. He can smell 'em." The old man's mouth formed a weak smile. "Like a hound dog in heat, only Phil's like it all year round. I used to say, 'Phil, for crysake get yourself a woman and bring her home and be done with it. You'll wear out your seat ridin' t o town every night.' And he used to say, 'I'll wear ou t more'n that,' and just laugh."

  Frye said, "He's something."

  "You looking for Phil? Go ask the women.

  They'll tell you where he's at." Old Val chuckled.

  "Would you look any place in particular?"

  "You want a job pretty bad, don't you?"

  "Well I'd sure like to find Phil."

  "Once he said, 'Why in hell does a man get married with all the women there are in the world just beggin' for it?' And I said, 'Son, when they're beggin' you ain't wantin' and when you're wantin' t hey ain't beggin'. That's why you got to have yourself one handy.' "

  Frye said, "Yes sir."

  "Are you married, boy?"

  "No sir, I'm not."

  "Do you want to?"

  "I think so."

  "Well, it'll be a long way off. Phil don't pay more'n forty a month to top hands." The old ma n grinned. "And you sure don't want to take you r wife in the bunkhouse."

  "Mr. Sundeen, I better try and catch up with Phil."

  "Phil don't poke along. You'll have to move."

  "But you're sure he was here this morning."

  "A man's a fool to say he's absolutely sure about anything."

  "He might have been here then."

  "He might have been."

  Frye rose. "Maybe we'll talk again some time soon, Mr. Sundeen."

  The old man rolled his eyes and Frye could see the yellowish cast to them as he looked up. "Yo u better make it soon if you've got anything to say."

  Frye nodded. "Yes sir." He turned and followed Danaher outside to the porch. Then he stopped , looking out to the yard seeing Merl and the other s standing by the horses. He glanced back at th e screen door, then at Danaher.

  "John, what happened to Haig?"

  Danaher looked toward the horses. Haig's was not there. "I don't know. He walked out while yo u were talking." He called over to Merl, "Where's Haig?"

  "He rode off," Merl answered. "Didn't say a word, just rode off."

  Sundeen waited in the shadow of the adobe wall until the wagon started down the alley, movin g away from the Metropolitan Cafe, then he crosse d the alley to the stairway that slanted up to the bac k porch.

  He had left his horse in the thicket that bordered Randado's small Mexican community and ha d crept from one adobe to the next, keeping close t o the walls, occasionally hearing siesta hour snorin g coming from within, until he reached the alley tha t was in back of the cafe. The wagon had been a small delay, already unloaded when he reached th e last adobe wall.

  Now he hesitated before going up the stairs. He moved to the wall next to the back window an d looked into the kitchen. Noontime activity. Th e cook facing the stove, a waitress just pushin g through the door to go out front. The door swun g back and Edith Hanasian came in with it. She wa s looking in his direction, but did not see him and h e thought: Call her now! But she turned toward th e stove, saying something to the cook, and it occurred to him: No. Wait a while, till the rush is over. He was tired, dust-caked and wanted a drink.

  The best thing would be to go upstairs and wait for her. Have a drink and take a load off your feet, h e decided.

  He climbed the stairs and went inside, following the hallway to the living room at the front. He too k off his hat and coat, dropping them on the floor , and sank down into a stuffed leather chair stretching his long legs out in front of him. But he had forgotten the drink.

  Phil pulled himself up and went down the hall to Edith's bedroom. He went directly to her dresse r and lifted the half-full bottle of whisky from th e lower right-hand drawer, then returned to the eas y chair.

  For some time he sat in the chair, his head low on the bolster, and drank from the bottle. Then h e placed it on the floor next to him and made a cigarette.

  He felt pretty good now even though his legs were stiff and he had a kink in his back from all tha t riding. He felt good enough to grin as he thought: Damn room looks different in the daylight.

  He thought of Edith then and wished she would hurry up and get finished with the dinner trade.

  Won't she be surprised! He laughed out loud.

  I'll tell her I saw little Haig.

  Edith, I think that little hairy-faced husband of yours is quit the restaurant business and taken t o mining. Him and some others were looking ove r that Big Beverly claim in the Huachucas yesterday.

  Edith, why else you suppose he'd be snooping around over there? Phil laughed again and took another pull at the bottle.

  About Haig Hanasian, Phil had no feeling one way or the other. He was indifferent to him, as h e was about most things. If a man couldn't hold on t o his wife, that was too bad. He shouldn't have married her to begin with. If Edith wanted to fool around that was Haig's own fault. Hell, he got he r through a Prescott marriage broker. Edith had admitted that much herself.

  He remembered when Haig had come here to open his cafe, bringing Edith with him. There ha d been a lot of talk about them then, but Phil ha d never been too interested in the talk; he had jus t watched Edith, waiting to catch her eye as sh e served him, and when their eyes would meet h e would tell her things without even opening hi s mouth. He never forced his attention on her. He didn't have to. To Phil it seemed the most natura l thing in the world that she should want him; if anything, he considered that he was doing her a favor.

  What fun would she get out of Haig? What was he, a Greek? No . . . something that sounded lik e ammonia. Well, he looked like a goddamn Greek.

  Came over on a boat and opened a restaurant in New Orleans; then packed up and came out here.

  Probably his health. Or maybe they wanted to send him back where he came from, so he ran.

  Haig had gone to Prescott first. He traveled through the whole southern part of the territor y until deciding to locate in Randado. Then he returned to Prescott to find a wife.

  Edith told Phil she had come from San Francisco to marry a soldier in Whipple Barracks, but he ha d died while she was on the way. Killed in actio n against the Apaches. She would lower her eye s telling it. To Phil, that was as good a story as any; b ut he always had the suspicion that the Prescot t marriage broker had to raid a whorehouse to fil l Haig's order. One way or another, it didn't matte r to Phil.

  As soon as he saw Haig at the mine he had thought about coming here. Habit, he though t grinning. That comes from duckin' up the stair s every time you see him ride out.

  Then when he arrived at the ranch and did not find Digo, he was sure he would come here. Digo's wife did not know where he was; but Edith woul d know. Only now was the awareness that he wa s alone beginning to take hold of him. He had bee n alone from the start. Tindal and Stedman and Jor-258 d an had never been a consolation, only company; c ompany he had to force to stay with him, and no w he did not even have that.

  As soon as he found Digo everything would be all right. Hell, it wasn't any fun playing this gam e by yourself. Digo would have some ideas. Probabl y he's out looking for me. But he'd have left wor d with Edith so we could meet in case I came back.

  With Phil it was that simple. This was something to do; something to relieve the boredom of tendin g cows all year long. But with Digo along it would b e a hell of a lot more fun.

  Only occasionally during the last few days did he try to think what the outcome of this might be; an d always he had gotten it out of his mind by thinkin g of an immediate concern. Hell, don't worry abou t tomorrow. It might not even come.

  But just since this morning, since not finding Digo at the ranch, it had crept into his mind mor e often: How is this thing going to end? And wha t seemed more important: What if I don't find Digo?

>   But now he had whisky, and he was relaxed.

  He had almost finished the bottle when Edith came in.

  Surprise showed on her face momentarily, but it vanished as she glanced from Phil to the whisk y bottle on the floor next to him.

  "Why don't you help yourself to a drink, Phil?"

  Sundeen grinned. "Edith, you're somethin'."

  "When did you get in?"

  "About an hour ago."

  "Alone?"

  "All by myself."

  "What happened to your friends?"

  "They got sick and went home."

  "Somebody said Tindal and Stedman were brought in, but I didn't see them." She was silent , watching him grinning looking up at her. "What d o you want, Phil?"

  "I didn't come for a haircut." He winked at her.

  "You could use one."

  Sundeen laughed. "For a woman affectionate as you are you can sure act cold."

  "What do you want, Phil?"

  Sundeen's expression changed. "Edith, you sound funny."

  "I'm not used to having wanted outlaws in my living room."

  He straightened in the chair and his mouth came open in surprise as he stared at her. "Well god damn . . . ain't we somethin' all of a sudden!"

  "Why don't you just get out?"

  He came up out of the chair suddenly taking her by the shoulders. "What's the matter with you!"

  "Let me go!"

  "You think I came to see you! "

  "Take your hands off of me!"

  He shook her violently. "You think I came for you!"

  "I don't care why you came!"

  He threw her away from him and shook his head slowly, saying, "Son of a bitch," spacing the words.

  "When I learn to figure out women then I'll be the smartest man walking this earth!"

  She asked hesitantly, "Why did you come?"

  "To find Digo. God almighty, not to see you!"

  Edith smiled faintly as if taking pleasure in saying, "He's across the street."

  "Where across the street?"

  Edith moved to the window and pointed out.

  "Right over there. They call it the jail."

  "What!"

  "Take the wax out of your ears--I said he's in jail!"

  Sundeen went to the next window and pushed the curtain aside roughly.

  "When'd they get him?"

  "The same day you left."

  "You're sure?" He kept staring at the front of the jail.

  "I saw them take him inside," Edith said calmly.

  "I haven't seen him come out."

  "Edith, if you're pullin' a joke--"

  She smiled. "What will you do, Phil?"

  Sundeen did not answer her. The side of his face was pressed against the glass pane and he was looking down the street. Edith studied him for a moment not understanding, then she moved closer to the window and looked in the same direction. Sh e saw then, halfway down the block, Frye and Danaher riding side by side and a line of riders strung out behind them.

  "Mr. Sundeen--"

  Edith heard the voice behind her, recognizing it, seeing Haig even before she turned. Phil wheeled , drawing his gun, and stopped dead seeing Hai g Hanasian standing in the door. He carried a rifle i n the crook of his arm, but it was pointed to the floor.

  "Your father said I might find you here," Haig said.

  "What? He didn't even know I was home."

  "You don't know your father."

  "Haig, do you aim to use that rifle?"

  "Why should I?"

  "Then set it against the wall." Sundeen grinned.

  "I thought you had designs of using it on me."

  "Not now," Haig said quietly.

  Edith moved toward him hesitantly. "How long have you been here?"

  "For a few minutes," Haig said. "I believe I came in when you were reminding Mr. Sundeen that yo u weren't used to having outlaws in the living room."

  "Oh--"

  "I agree, Edith."

  She looked at him surprised, then dropped her eyes again.

  Sundeen shook his head. "I feel sorry for you, brother."

  "I think you're the one to feel sorry for," Haig said.

  "Why?"

  "You're all alone. Now you have to run all by yourself."

  And as if this brought it back to mind, he said, angrily, "Where's Digo?"

  "He's in jail."

  "He can't be."

  Haig shrugged. "Go see for yourself." He watched Sundeen go to the window, then turn fro m it abruptly and start to make a cigarette. His finger s seemed clumsy and rolling it he tore the paper , spilling the tobacco. He threw the shreds of it to th e floor and walked over to the whisky bottle.

  "That Frye--" he mumbled. He picked up the bottle and drank from it. "That goddamn Frye . . . h e's the one--" He sank into the chair then an d hunched over, leaning on his knees holding the bottle between them, and for a time he seemed deep in thought and did not speak.

  He took another drink. Frye was the one. Frye started it. A kid who thinks he's something. Wel l maybe we ought to show this kid. Maybe we ough t to throw it in his face and see what kind of a ma n he is-GCo What're you doing runnin' from a kid!

  And suddenly it was no longer a game.

  He stood up, looking at Haig. "You get ahold of this Frye. Tell him I'll be in De Spain's. Tell him i n front of everybody I want to see him there . . . an d if he says he won't come, tell him then he better rid e out of Randado before the hour's up else I'll gu n him the hell out!"

  As they entered the street, Danaher sidestepped his chestnut closer to Frye's dun. "Are your friends i n jail?"

  Frye glanced at him questioningly.

  "Tindal and Stedman," Danaher said.

  Frye shook his head. "No."

  "I didn't think so."

  "I didn't see any reason for it. I told your man to let them go home."

  "You didn't see any reason for it once before."

  Frye grinned. He was tired, but relaxed, and for a while he had even stopped thinking of Sundeen.

  He was looking forward to a good meal and a bed with sheets. After that he would start worryin g about Sundeen again. He'd send wires to every major town in the Territory. Never finding him would be just as good, perhaps better than bringing hi m back. Frye sat in the saddle loosely following th e walking motion of the horse. It felt good for a change not to be sitting on the edge of his nerves.

  "I think they've had enough punishment for right now," he said to Danaher, "without bein g locked up."

  Danaher shrugged. "They're your prisoners."

  He said then, "That reminds me, what are you going to do with Dandy Jim?"

  "I'll have to hand him over to the Army."

  "What was he doing, just drinking tulapai?"

  "That's all, though he caught his wife with somebody while he was drunk and fixed up her face."

  "They don't care about things like that," Danaher said. "Somebody will give him a lecture on the evils of tulapai and that'll be the end of it."

  Along both sides of the street now Frye saw people stopping and turning to watch them ride by.

  Some of them waved; a few called out a welcome and he heard Danaher say, "They're a little friendlier this time."

  Frye nodded thinking of the morning they had brought in Earl Beaudry.

  "Maybe letting Tindal and Stedman go was a good idea after all," Danaher said pleasantly.

  "Now all you have to do is nail Sundeen's ears to the door and you'll have their respect."

  There were more men under the wooden awning at De Spain's. A hand went up here and there an d Frye nodded to them. He was reining toward th e jail when he saw Milmary Tindal standing in fron t of the store. She was watching him, her eyes remaining on him even as he returned her stare.

  Go on in the jail, he thought. You don't owe her anything. Let her wait a little bit if she's got something to say. But he hesitated. What good would that do? He flicked his reins back again and turne d away from Danaher, urgin
g his gelding toward he r now.

  She looked up at him and for a moment neither of them spoke. Then he said, "Mil," and steppe d out of the saddle.

  "Are you back for good, Kirby?"

  "I don't know. We didn't get Sundeen."

  "Maybe he'll turn himself in now."

  "Maybe."

  She hesitated, not knowing what to say, and her eyes left his.

  "How's your father?"

  She looked at him again. "Fine. He's resting.

  Kirby . . . we appreciate you not holding him in jail."

  "That's all right."

  "Mama says he must've lost ten pounds." She smiled and said this as if to make all of what ha d happened seem light and of little importance.

  "He might've at that," Frye said.

  She hesitated again and for a moment neither of them spoke.

  "Mil . . . I thought I'd call on you this evening."

  She smiled. "That would be fine, Kirby."

  He could see relief in her eyes and she looked suddenly as if she might cry.

  "Why don't we have supper together?" he said.

  "All right--"

  "Call for you at the store?"

  "Fine, Kirby."

  He smiled at her, then turned away leading his gelding across the street. They'd have a long tal k tonight; and in the darkness it would be easier fo r both of them.

  Harold Mendez opened the door for him, stepping aside as Frye entered. Danaher was seated, swiveled around with his back to the desk.

  "Everything all right, Kirby?"

  Frye nodded. "It'll take a few days to get back to normal."

  Harold Mendez said, "Everybody's talking about you letting Tindal and Stedman go."

  "They still have to face the judge," Frye said.

  "But you could keep them locked up," Harold said. "That's what they're talking about." Harold's gaze went to the open door, then shifted quickly t o Danaher. "I thought you said Haig had disappeared?"

  "He did," Danaher said.

  "He's coming across the street."

  Frye turned to the window and Danaher came out of the chair.

  Suddenly Harold said, "My God . . . look!"

  De Spain's doors were open and men were hurrying out, separating both ways along the adobe fronts, but most of them coming out to the street , then stopping to look back at De Spain's. The y were forming groups, talking, still keeping thei r eyes on the open doors. A man came out of th e Metropolitan and called something and from th e crowd someone called back to him, "Sundeen--"