I took one last look around. We’d taken Howland’s firearms for ourselves and then drug him back in the rocks and done our best to hide his body. The draw would be the first place the posse would make for and we didn’t want them to know we were short yet another man. He was hidden but not good and, if they looked hard, they’d find him.
“Let’s move out,” I said and turned my horse up the south bank of the draw and scrambled to the top. Les followed, spurring the pony he was on and tugging at the black’s lead rein. Tod rocked and swayed in the saddle, but it couldn’t be helped.
We trailed south, keeping the horses to a walk. It was early afternoon and hot as hell. All around I could see heat waves shimmering up from the sandy soil. The chapparal and cactus was thick and we had to wind around to make our way without getting scratched up. Les was riding alongside Tod, fanning at the flies that were swarming around the dried blood on his shirt. We’d done our best to clean him up with a little of the rum, but it hadn’t done much good. I was feeling bad low in my mind. It had been a job that was jinxed from the start.
There’d been five of us and now two was dead and the third nearly so. More than that had been a stranger who’d rode in, wanting to cast in his lot. He, too, had died and by my hand.
I looked back at Les. “Do you feel bad about Howland?”
Without leaving off from his fly-fanning he shook his head. “No, he had it coming. He was going to run out on us and there just wasn’t no choice. It was a thing had to be done.”
“I never liked Howland,” I said. “Never trusted him neither.”
“Yeah,” Les agreed. “He was always looking out for Howland.”
I watched him. “You ain’t really bothering them flies much, Les. They smell blood.”
“I guess,” he said. He put his hat back on his head. He looked tired and whipped down. “At least we didn’t let him run out on Tod.”
“True,” I said.
As we’d been getting ready to take off, Les had said about Howland: “He’s got money in his pockets. We can use it.”
“Then you get it,” I said. I was busy tying Tod in place. “I ain’t robbing the dead.”
Les had looked at me. “Fair enough,” he’d said. “You killed him. I’ll take his money.” He’d gone and got it and put it in his pocket. It must have been over two hundred dollars.
We could use the money and I was feeling ashamed about the way I’d spoke. I looked back at him again. “You was right about the money. If we hadn’t taken it some of that catch party would have—that is if they find him.”
“No matter,” Les said.
We slogged along, the sun burning down on our backs. The horses was still a little whipped down from the morning’s run, but they were starting to come back. Both my filly and Les’s gelding are roadwise and hard as iron from good graining and care. I looked back, but still couldn’t see anything. The slow pace was making me impatient and I was praying for dark to come to hide our sign. I knew it was still several hours away. In the meantime all we could do was slog along, praying the townspeople of Uvalde was cowards.
I watched Tod, slumped over on the horse. It seemed I couldn’t see him breathe, but then every once in a while he’d make a kind of racking sob and gasp a little.
“Les,” I said, “that boy’s lungs are filling up with blood.”
Les turned and give him an anxious look and then just shook his head. “Ain’t a damn thing we can do, Will. It’s all inside him. What this boy needs is a doctor. And damn quick, too.”
“I know it,” I said.
We were making for Pearson, a little town about thirty miles south. It was the nearest place unless we went north and that direction would be the undoing of us all. “You reckon they’s even a doctor in Pearson?”
“I don’t know, Will. Last time I was there it wasn’t much. Couple stores and a few saloons.”
“They ain’t gonna have no doctor, Les.”
He didn’t answer me. I knew he knew it as well as I did. But, still, you have to try and do something, or at least feel like you’re doing something.
And back behind us somewhere was a posse. They might be two miles behind or ten, I just didn’t have no idea. There’d been no sign of them when we pulled out and we’d come maybe six miles. If they didn’t come on us before dark we might have a chance. But then maybe not. There’d be rangers and Association agents in that posse and they don’t give up too easy. Also, there was a ranger company billeted at Del Rio, which was on the river about forty miles west of us. They might wire them and have a couple of rangers sent over to try and head us off. I just didn’t know. It might depend on how many people we’d shot up that morning in the bank and how important they were. Lord knows we’d done a fair job of throwing lead. It was a cinch somebody had gone down.
Well, there was one thing I could face up to; after that business in Carrizo Springs and our work of the morning I was through in Texas, I could kiss it all goodbye, for my life would be forfeit if I ever stepped foot across the river again.
That is if we made it to the river.
We kept going with the sun just hot as hell. I was getting mighty tired, hungry too. As always I hadn’t been able to eat any breakfast and we hadn’t had time for a noon meal. We had a little of the rum left and I reached back, undid the flap, and rummaged in my saddlebags until I found the bottle. It was hot to the touch from the temperature inside the pouches. I uncorked it, the vapors that came forth nearly taking my head off, and had a drink. For a second I didn’t know if I was going to hold it, but then it settled and I had another. I slackened my pace and dropped back to Les.
“Here,” I said.
He took it without a word and had a good swallow.
“Have another,” I said. “It’s picking me up already.”
He did, then corked the bottle and handed it back to me. I kept it out, holding it by the neck and letting it swing by my leg. We had a nip every now and then as we rode along. I kept looking back. I felt uneasy. The horizon was still clear, but I felt it was time we speeded up. I offered Les the last drink in the bottle. He refused, so I upended the bottle and finished it myself. I was on the point of casting it aside, but thought better of it and put it back in my saddlebag. There was no use giving them any more sign than what we were already leaving. I looked over at Tod. He was still sagged into the horse, both hands hanging down. His face was a kind of ashen gray color.
“We got to move along a little faster,” I said to Les.
He hesitated and then nodded. “All right.”
“We got to lope these horses,” I said.
He looked at me.
“I know,” I said. “But he’ll be just as dead if they catch us. Besides, your gelding has got a sweet rack. He’ll rock old Tod like a baby. Let’s move!”
I put my filly into a canter and Les put spurs to the pony he was riding and came along, his black picking up the pace just as nice and easy as you’d want. We went fast through the brush, winding our way.
The fast canter or lope or rack as some call it is a pace my little mare can hold all day when she’s fresh. Unfortunately she’d been put to kind of hard usage of late and it wasn’t long until the sweat began to stand out on her neck and foam along the saddle. But she’s a willing little beast and will try and run through a brick wall if I put her at it.
We held the pace for quite a while. It was hard on Tod. I could see him jouncing around in the saddle. Les called to me and motioned at Tod’s shirt. There was a brightness among the dried blood that told us he’d started bleeding again. We pulled up and Les got down and did what he could with the bandages.
“He’s lost a lot of blood. If we don’t get him to a doctor he ain’t gonna make it.”
I didn’t say anything. There wasn’t anything I could say. I was willing to walk the horses awhile, but Les remounted and led out at a trot. I fell in by Tod, holding my hand on his back and doing what I could to make the ride easier.
We tore along
over the rough ground, eating up the miles at a good rate. Ahead, I could see the pace beginning to tell on the pony that had once belonged to Chico. His flanks were heaving and his dappled coat was wet with sweat. My little filly wasn’t liking it any too well either, though she was a better horse than the pony. That pony, I thought, has been bad luck. First Chico had been killed, then Tod had took him and had been shot; now Les was riding him.
I didn’t figure the posse could be gaining much on us. They’d be loping their horses too, but they wouldn’t be gaining much ground. I found myself wishing we didn’t have to go to Pearson. The border was only forty or fifty miles on beyond and we could ride all night and come near making it. But that wasn’t no way to think. We had to do what we could for Tod. I still had my hand on his back. He was warm, but his breathing was mighty irregular and every once in a while he’d kind of gag and make a whistling sound in his throat. It was a sure sign he had blood in his lungs. I’d heard it before and it’s a bad sound.
Finally, the sun began dropping and dusk came upon us. It was still light enough to read newsprint by, but it was considerably cooler and that was a relief. Unfortunately, dark wouldn’t bring all the help I’d first thought it would. There’d be a moon and it would be a bright moon. Still, it might make tracking a little harder.
“How far you figure to Pearson?” I asked Les.
“Can’t be far. We’ve stayed after it pretty good.”
And indeed we had. Except for the few times we’d stopped to rest for a minute or two we’d kept right on. We were walking to rest the horses and my feet were sore as hell and my thigh was bothering me bad.
“How’s your leg?” Les asked me.
“It’s all right,” I said. “This walking will keep it from stiffening up. But you’re going to have to switch breeches with me.”
“Why?”
“Because these are all bloody and got a hole in ’em. When I go into Pearson to see about a doctor they might cause speculation.”
“Hell, Will, I better go in.”
“No,” I said. “I’ve done got this thought out. We’ll hide you and him out somewheres close and then I’ll ride in. With this neck it’ll be a natural for me to ask about a doctor. If anybody asks I can say I done it on a hay fork. Then if they got a doctor it’ll be just pie for me to bring him back to where ya’ll are.”
“Well, you’ve got a head, Wilson. I never argued that. But I hate to see you take the risk.”
We walked a little further and then pulled up a little wash that was lined with mesquite trees. We wanted to wait until dark before moving any further. Les wasn’t exactly sure where the town was and, if we were close, we’d be able to see the lights after it got dark. We got down in the wash and hunkered down on our heels. There wasn’t any profit in taking Tod off the horse because we’d be moving out again in less than an hour and the joustling around wouldn’t do him any good.
CHAPTER 12
Light in the Dark
We stayed hid out in that little wash until it got good dark and then some. Me and Les was laying on the bank, looking over the edge for some sign of the town, some little glow in the dark that would give us a direction. Down in the wash Les’s black would stamp his feet every once in a while, impatient and unaccustomed to standing around with a load. We’d been checking on Tod every little bit, but his condition hadn’t changed any.
“Wonder why he don’t open his eyes?” Les asked me.
“Loss of blood,” I said. “Or maybe just being knocked unconscious from the power of them slugs he was hit with. I’ve seen men take on like that before.”
We were speaking quietly though there wasn’t much point in it. All around us the insects that light the night had come out and were making their sounds. Down off to our right I heard a bull frog croak.
“Must still be a little water in this cut,” I said. “Hear that bull frog?”
But Les was thinking on Tod. “Still, I don’t see why he don’t come to. Looks like he’d either come out of it or just go ahead and expire.”
“I’ve seen it before,” I said. “Oncet in Montana I seen a cowboy, young kid, get no more than a little horn wound in the shoulder and he taken on like that. We was branding and the old cow broke out of the bunch and run over just as he was about to lay the iron on the calf. Hooked him in the shoulder. Didn’t even look bad, but he just all of a sudden turned white and passed dead away. Laid on his bunk like that for three days.” I started to go on and say the young puncher had died, but I caught myself in time. We’d even had a doctor for the boy by the second day, but it hadn’t done any good. He’d never come out of it, had just laid there and died. I’d never understood it myself. My own theory had been that it had scared him to death seeing that old mama cow bearing down on him.
“What happened to him?” Les asked me.
“Oh,” I said, “I never heard. I rode out not too long after that.”
Les looked over at me, but didn’t say anything. It was as dark as it would get that night, the sun being down and the moon not yet up, but we couldn’t see a single light that would point us at Pearson. I was beginning to get a little case of the fantods. I didn’t know where that posse was, but I knew I’d feel better if we were moving.
“Les?” I said, kind of urgingly.
He knew what I meant, I expect, but he said: “You know old Tod ain’t seen his folks in near three years.”
I didn’t say anything.
“You know his daddy was a deacon in the church.” He looked over at me. “Did you know that, Will?”
“Yeah,” I said. “I knew it.”
“His daddy never knew what we’d been up to these last years. He’s a mighty old man now. His mother’s dead, you know.”
“So’s mine,” I said. It was making me a little sore him talking that way. Tod hadn’t been the only one with folks. I wasn’t too concerned what his folks thought. He’d made his own choice and I’d never seen him give a lot of thought to it.
“Tod’s daddy was my daddy’s older brother,” Les said. He had his chin propped on his hand, staring out at the horizon. “My daddy had a lot of respect for him.”
“How about your daddy?” I asked him.
“Well, I don’t know. I just don’t know. That wanted notice out of Carrizo Springs would be the first on us, wouldn’t it?”
“Not on me,” I said. I was getting a little tired of his line of talk.
“Well, maybe not on you,” he said.
“What the hell does that mean?”
“Nothing,” he said. “Nothing. You and me know old Tod wasn’t no prize, but I hate to think of him laying out here like this, dying, and his daddy not knowing a thing.”
I pushed myself to my knees. “Listen, we got to get out of here. I know you feel bad about Tod and I do too. You’re kin and I’m not, and that’s all right, but he still rode with me and I want to do everything I can for him.”
“Don’t get sore, Will. I know what you mean.”
“Then let’s get on the scout,” I said. “We’ve got to find that town and laying here ain’t doing us a bit of good.”
We mounted up and I led out. First we ranged to the southeast a mile or so and then turned back to the west. The moon was starting to come up and it was throwing light and shadows all over the prairie. We’d been trailing almost due west for near a mile when Les suddenly called up to me, “Will!”
I pulled up. “What?”
“Look yonder.”
I glanced back at him to see which way he was pointing and then looked off toward the southwest. I didn’t see anything.
“That’s just a rise,” I said. “A butte.”
“Naw,” he said. “Look at the face of it. See that kind of glow, like it was being reflected?”
I looked but still couldn’t see anything. “Hell, let’s try that way. It’s as good as any and maybe you’re right.”
We set off over the rolling land at a lope and the closer we came to the rise the better I co
uld seem to see a little glow shining on its face. It was very faint, but distinct. There was quartz rock in the country and it will pick up the glow of a campfire from a mile or better. We were riding up gently ascending terrain and, when we got to the top of a little knoll, Les pulled up and swept his arm down to the left. “Look there!” he said.
Sure enough I could see the faint outlines of buildings down in a little flat valley off to our left. Out of maybe ten or twenty structures, it being hard to tell at night, only about five were lit up.
“Pearson,” I said. “Has to be.”
“Ain’t nothing else around.”
We turned our horses down the slope and began riding toward the lights. We wanted to get close, but not too close, and then find a place for Les to hide out with Tod while I went on in. After a little, as we got near to the floor of the valley, we struck a little narrow limestone creek meandering along. Willows lined both sides of its course and they give us a start for a moment, suddenly rearing up in the dark as they did.
“Let’s follow this,” I said. “I imagine it’ll wind around toward town.”
We did, riding alongside the line of trees. We could see it was leading toward town. It was probably their water supply. Finally the little creek made a sharp turn where the water had thrown up a little beach protected by a bluff.
“Let’s head down in there,” I said.
The sand was soft under our horses’ hoofs, but we made it down and dismounted. The line of trees shut off the lights from Pearson. I stood in the soft sand looking around. The little bluff was two or three feet high and lined on both sides by a heavy growth of willow trees. Through their leaning branches we could see the moon, hanging full and yellow in the blue sky. I figured Pearson was maybe a mile away.
“Let’s get Tod down and make him comfortable,” I said.
The Bank Robber Page 14