Last of the Breed

by Les Savage, Jr.

  They ate first. Then, exhausted as they were, they went to the corrals to rope out fresh horses. Estelle went along to help saddle up. Brian had to pick a roan that had some vinegar to spill; it fought him around the corral and he was the last to leave. With the others gone, Estelle held the excited horse while he put the tack on. With the girth cinched up, he took the reins from her hands. She was smiling at him.

  “You’re really an all-around hand now.”

  “I guess I’ve learned a lot,” he said.

  “And changed a lot.”

  He did not answer for a moment. It was something he had felt himself, something he had seen in Robles’s reaction. The external change was obvious enough. The calluses on his hands, the burn on his face, the muscles in his belly. Yet there was more than that, something still occurring inside, shadowy, as yet hard to define. The old restlessness was gone, the sense of futility and frustration. Perhaps that was a part of it. He’d needed something to fight for. More and more he felt a kinship with these people, a sense of belonging that he’d never known before. He was a part of something bigger than himself and it seemed to give him the roots and the core he had lacked before.

  “Do you like the change?” he asked.

  “I’d say so,” she said.

  They were close again, speaking in low voices, with that thing tingling between them. The dusk made shadowy curves of her body. The hunger was in him again and he could deny it no longer. He took her face in his hands and kissed her. She met it with her lips full and soft. She didn’t pull away or move closer. Yet there was no withholding. Her giving was complete. Through his hands he could feel the faint trembling of her body as he pulled back to look at her face. Her eyes were half closed. She was breathing heavily and in her shining face was an awakening.

  “It’s strange,” she whispered. “I wanted you to do that.”

  His own body was trembling and his face felt hot and there was a drumming pulse in his temples. They were the familiar signs, yet all of it was altered by some subtle alchemy into something far apart from the passion he had known for Arleen. He had the sense of holding something fragile in his hands and he felt that if he said the wrong thing or made the wrong move he would shatter it.

  She must have taken his silence for something else. The shimmer left the surface of her eyes. “Arleen?” she asked.

  It seemed to take the bottom out of everything. He hadn’t been thinking of Arleen when he kissed Estelle, hadn’t been conscious of anything but his own burning needs. He released her and stepped back. He smiled ruefully.

  “I guess I have changed,” he said. “A few months ago I could have laughed it off.”

  She did not answer. Then he turned and stepped into the saddle. He sat heavily there, brooding down at her. At last, seeing he had no answer for her, all the life went out of her face.

  “I’m sorry, Estelle,” he said. “I guess I had no right.”

  Without speaking, she turned and went toward the house. Miserable with the confusion in him, he watched her till she was but a blur in the distance. Then he touched heels to the nervous horse and passed into the night.

  * * * *

  They had each taken a different section of the country below the Rim. Brian picked up Ring Partridge and a man named Sam Fallon. They got back to Mescal Springs about ten o’clock to find most of the other Salt Rivers there, gathered around a blazing fire in front of the bear-grass huts. Brian and the other two dismounted on the fringe of the group and he saw that Asa stood before the fire, speaking hotly to the men.

  “This drive proves we can buck Tarrant. If we can do it once we can do it again … “

  As Asa went on, blond-bearded Wirt Peters saw Brian and moved over to speak in a low tone. “Most of ‘em are here. It looks like the Gillette name still means something. They don’t think Cameron’s got enough drive, but they’re willing to let Asa rod the show.”

  Sam Fallon pushed his way toward the center, a stooped little man with a nasal voice. “Tarrant’s bought up a lot of those notes Sheridan used to hold. He’s threatening to foreclose now unless I put my name on that recall petition.”

  The crowd turned toward him and Asa asked, “Can’t you hold out a few weeks? This may be the turning point.”

  “A man’s got to think of his family,” Fallon said. “My wife’s due for another baby. We ain’t got no place to go.”

  “And what about them as still has a herd to think of?” a man named Rados asked. “Tallow Creek’s gone bone dry. The only way I can save my stock is to use Red Sinks. Tarrant’s offered ‘em to me if I go with him.”

  Brian began moving toward the center. He could see Asa’s temper mounting and knew what was coming. Asa shouted back at them, “Then why don’t you all just jump right in Tarrant’s wagon?”

  Sheriff Cline caught his arm. “That ain’t no way to talk, son—”

  Asa wheeled toward the paunchy lawman. “Why should I listen to you? Tarrant has you in the hollow of his hand.”

  Cline shook his massive gray head. “You know I didn’t have anything to do with foreclosing on you. It was Nacho, while I was chasing those Apaches that jumped the reservation.”

  “Which puts Tarrant’s brand on Nacho too.”

  Asa tried to wheel back and speak to the crowd but Cline kept the hold on his arm, saying angrily, “That’s not true—”

  With an angry curse, Asa tore his arm free. The motion flung it outward and across Cline’s face. The sheriff staggered backward and then caught himself. His broad-jowled face went gray with rage and humiliation. Tears from the blow across his nose squeezed out from the tips of his squinted eyes and he spoke in a shaken voice.

  “You young fool—”

  Brian saw that Asa was ready to lunge at the man and he stepped between them, grabbing Asa’s arm. The youth tried to tear free, a wild look to his face, but Brian hung on.

  “Slack off, Asa. Do you want to tell Pa you tore the whole thing apart the first night?” It checked Asa for a moment. He stood rigidly, nostrils pinched and white. Brian went on: “You got the guts to lead us. I know that. But you’ve got to keep your head.”

  Mayor Prince moved in close to them, portly, white-headed, placating. “He’s right, Asa. A leader’s job is to hold things together. It’s what made Pa so valuable to us.”

  Brian had seen the youth’s deep affection for his father, in Sandoval’s house, and knew it was the one thing that might touch Asa. “You can’t let Pa down,” he said.

  Asa’s face went slack and the tension left his body. His shoulders bowed and he ran his sinewy hand through matted black hair, shaking his head. “All right,” he said. “I apologize, Cline.”

  The sheriff made a grumbling sound, rubbing his nose. Sandoval stepped close to Asa, speaking in a low voice.

  “Is the weak ones we got to hold. If they go, it start the bust-up. Tell Fallon I cover his mortgage with money from the drive. Rados can water his cattle at the springs here till fall roundup.”

  Asa nodded, turned, passed on Sandoval’s offer. Fallon shook his head dubiously.

  “It’s a generous offer, Chino. What do we gain by it?”

  “Time. Time to fight the recall.”

  “Ain’t that a losing battle? Councilman Lewis claims he overheard the division superintendent offer Prince a cut of the freight rates if Prince saw that the franchise came through.” Fallon wouldn’t look at Mayor Prince when he said it.

  “What kind of trumped-up charge is that?” Brian answered. “Tarrant couldn’t possibly make it stick unless the Salt Rivers were too whipped to fight it.”

  “We can lick him on this franchise,” Asa said. “A railroad in Apache Wells would make you all a dozen times bigger than you are—big enough to stop Tarrant for good.”

  Morton Forge began to chuckle. “It sounds like it’s worth fighting for.”

  �
��You’ll do it?” Asa asked.

  Forge looked around at the others, getting a nod from each man. “We’ll do it,” he said.

  CHAPTER 16

  The meeting broke up after midnight and Brian went to bed with the feeling that they had patched things up for at least the present. He slept late and woke near noon to find himself alone in the bear-grass hut. He dressed and went out to see Sandoval, Cameron, and Pancho eating breakfast in the shade of the ramada by the main house. Estelle must have seen him from inside for as he reached the house she appeared with a cup of coffee.

  “Thanks,” he said. “Where’s Asa?”

  A shadow was between them, since their meeting the night before. She seemed withdrawn before him and unusually sober. “Fallon came from Prince this morning,” she said. “Mayor Prince wanted to see Asa.”

  She went back inside. Brian asked Sandoval, “What’s it about?”

  The Yaqui shook his head. “We was still asleep. I guess Prince didn’t say.”

  Estelle brought Brian a plate of food in a few minutes. He sat on one of the split logs by the door to eat. After he finished, Sandoval rolled a pair of cigarettes and offered one to Brian. They sat side by side, smoking, silent. Brian was still stiff and sore and beaten from the grueling ride behind them. He didn’t want to think. He didn’t want to move. The somnolent sounds of chickens scratching and clucking in the dooryard made him sleepy and he dozed in the shade, dropping his cigarette half-smoked.

  The trembling of the earth woke him. The sun stood in the middle of the sky, pouring a steel-bright heat on the land. Morton Forge was bringing a hard-ridden horse across the waters of the seep. The men under the ramada jumped to their feet and ran toward him. He hauled the lathered animal up, shouting to be heard over the roar of its breathing.

  “Things have blowed up in our faces. Asa’s gone and killed Sheriff Cline!”

  The blood drained from Brian’s cheeks. His weight settled against the earth like a man recovering from one blow and setting himself against the next.

  “Nacho and Harv Rich brought Cline’s body to town about ten o’clock,” Forge said. “They had Asa with ‘em. Claimed they saw him shoot Cline.”

  “Saw him?”

  “That’s the story. A couple more bronc Apaches jumped reservation yesterday. Cline got a tip they’d been seen in Silver Sinks. Neither of his deputies had checked in. He left word for them to follow him. They claim they was up on the rim when they saw Cline get it.”

  Silently, helplessly they stared at each other. They all knew what it meant. Cline had been loved and respected throughout the county. With Asa as their newly chosen leader, the Salt Rivers couldn’t help but share the blame for Cline’s murder. It would wipe out what support Prince had left both in and out of the council, and ruin his last chance for pushing the franchise through.

  “Dios,” Sandoval said. “I feel like somebody he kick me in the stomach.”

  “Cline and Harv Rich and Nacho and Asa all in Silver Sinks at the same time,” Brian said musingly.

  “Natural Asa’d be there,” Cameron said. “He’d have to go through the sinks on his way to Prince’s.”

  Sandoval was frowning at Brian. “What you think?”

  “I think it’s a helluva coincidence,” he said. None of them answered. The horse snorted and wheezed. Finally Brian said, “Well, whatever happened, Asa’s going to need the best lawyer we can get.” They were all frowning at him and he knew they were thinking of the same man he was. His chin lifted defiantly. “Damn it,” he said. “It’s worth a try, isn’t it?”

  None of them responded. He went into the corral and started roping out the line-back. Cameron walked heavily up to the house and Brian knew he was going to tell Estelle. While Brian was saddling up, she came down to the corral. Her face was white and strained. She stopped by the horse, made a couple of false starts, then said:

  “Brian … do you think Asa really did it?”

  He shook his head. “I don’t know.”

  “You hate him, don’t you?”

  He shook his head. “No, Estelle. We’ve fought a lot. But he’s just a kid with a bad temper. Give him a chance, he’ll find himself. He’ll be all right.”

  “I want to go.”

  He nodded grimly. “All right. Cameron and I’ll hitch our horses behind the buckboard.”

  It was a long ride into town. None of them spoke much. They were all bitterly shocked and discouraged by this new blow and Brian was intensely conscious of the strain between him and Estelle, shadowing every glance, every word. They reached Apache Wells in the afternoon.

  The jail stood on West Cochise, across the creek from the more respectable part of town, a long crumbling adobe building shaded by a ragged line of willows that set up a melancholy whisper against its roof whenever the wind moved their thin foliage. At the door a group of idlers surrounded Nacho, who sat in a chair tilted back against the wall, rolling a cigarette and talking expansively. They all turned as the wagon rattled up out of the creek, and Nacho came to his feet. Brian and Cameron got down, helping Estelle to the ground.

  “Nobody goes in here,” Nacho said. “Court order.”

  Brian faced him. “Show me the order.”

  Nacho began to leer. “Old Double Bit, he’s getting tough.”

  “Show me the order, Nacho, or get out of the way.”

  Nacho dropped his cigarette and stepped on it. The idlers began to back off. “You want to be in there with Asa?” Nacho asked.

  Brian’s weight settled against his toes but Estelle grabbed his arm, stopping him. “There’s been enough trouble,” she said. She turned to Nacho. “Please—what harm can we do by seeing him?”

  Nacho did not answer. He merely looked at her. It was the same look that every idler in front of every saloon gave every woman that passed on the street. Color rushed into Estelle’s cheeks. An angry reaction ran through Brian but before he could move Estelle made an exasperated sound and darted around Nacho. He caught her, trying to spin her back. She bit his hand. With a howl of pain he released her. She wheeled and ran into the jail.

  “You little bitch,” Nacho shouted. Holding his hand, he lunged after her. Brian followed, catching him by the arm just inside the door and wheeling him back. Nacho tore free, his face vicious and white. His hand was on his gun when somebody called sharply from outside.

  “Nacho!”

  The breed checked his motion, staring past Brian. A tall white-headed man in a frock coat parted the knot of watchers with the tip of his gold-headed cane and stepped to the door.

  “Mr. Sheridan has a perfect right to see the prisoner, Nacho,” he said. “You’re taking your duties a little too seriously, I believe.”

  It was Harold Parrish, the circuit judge from Alta. Nacho subsided, the color returning to his face and rendering it dark and sullen. Brian relaxed, grinning wryly at Parrish.

  “Thanks, Judge.”

  Parrish nodded soberly and Brian turned, followed by Cameron, to walk into the dank cell-block. Brian saw Estelle talking with Asa in the last cell and he couldn’t help grinning wryly to himself. He’d always known she had spunk but he’d never seen it so graphically displayed. She was still breathing heavily, excited color in her cheeks. She turned as they came up, speaking breathlessly.

  “Asa says he didn’t do it, Brian.”

  Asa stood at the door, lean hands clenched around the bars. In his gaunt face, already edged with a stubble beard, was nothing but defiance for Brian. Cameron saw the bitter expression and spoke with a heavy exasperation. “You got to quit fighting Brian, Asa. He’s here to help you. He didn’t have to come at all.”

  Asa’s eyes tried to hold the defiance. But they shifted in confusion and he looked down at the floor. Some of the hostility drained from him. He ran a hand nervously through his black hair.

  “What happened?” Brian said.
>
  “Sam Fallon came early this morning,” Asa said. “Told me Prince wanted to see me. Something about the franchise. Urgent. Fallon dropped off at his place and I went on through Silver Sinks. It was the quickest route to the mayor’s. In the sinks I heard this shot. I got off my horse and went through the rocks. I came on Cline’s body. That’s where Nacho and Harv Rich found me. Now Fallon’s saying he didn’t come this morning. None of you saw him. I can’t prove anything.”

  Estelle shook her head helplessly. “The whole thing’s so crazy.”

  “And so neat,” Brian muttered.

  Estelle looked at him, eyes pleading. “You believe Asa?”

  Brian said, “Sam Fallon was the weakest one last night. Could be he went straight to Tarrant about our meeting.”

  “And they knew I’d take Silver Sinks to Prince’s,” Asa said.

  They were silent. Finally Brian grinned at Asa, trying to be reassuring. “Take it easy. We’ll break it. If it’s humanly possible, we’ll break it.”

  Asa answered the grin, a little sheepishly. “Damn my temper anyway, Brian. I’ve been wrong from the beginning. Is there any way we can wipe it off and start over?”

  “Easiest thing in the world,” Brian said.

  He put out his hand. Asa stuck his through the bars and they shook, grinning at each other for a moment. Then the humor left them. Brian looked at Estelle. She made a helpless sound. Brian looked once more at Asa, reached through to give him a reassuring punch on the shoulder, then went out. Parrish was in the office, going over the docket with Nacho and the bailiff.

  “We’ve set the trial for this Saturday,” he told them.

  “Isn’t that a little soon?” Brian asked.

  Parrish shook his head. “I’ve got a big circuit, Mr. Sheridan. If we don’t get started on this as soon as possible I’ll have to set it over till next year.”

  More discouraged than ever, they left the jail and rode back across the creek to the main part of town. Brian stopped off at Wolffe’s office, but the door was locked. When he came back downstairs the banker’s kid was talking with Estelle. He told them Wolffe was at the Double Bit. Estelle was looking back toward the jail.