"It's all right, kid." He was almost whispering in a low, singsong voice. "You won't mind it once Ben starts. Really you won't, kid. You'll like it. Just wait and see."
Josiah wiped the sweat off my forehead. I couldn't take my eyes off him while he unknotted the red kerchief at his throat and folded it carefully and dabbed at my forehead with gentle, quick pats like Ma used to do when I was little and got sick or hurt.
"Ben just wants to teach you a lesson, kid. That's all. An' it won't hurt near as much as you think it will. Ben's strong, he is. His punches land hard and push in down deep where you'll remember them good. They land good an' heavy so they don't hardly hurt at all on the outside."
He made a sound that was like a giggle and said, "There'll be jus' some bruises on the outside, kid. That's all. Jus' bruises. An' inside he'll leave a few memories of hurt an' then you'll do what ole Ben sez 'cause you won't want to hurt again. An' do you know what? Ole Ben won't ever have to beat on you again 'cause you'll remember. You won't even think about running away again 'cause when Ben sees that look come into your eye he'll just double up his fist an' show you. An' do you know what'll happen then? That sweat'll come back out on you an' your guts will churn up into knots and you'll do whatever me an' ole Ben want you to—anything at all, kid."
I kept watching Josiah. I couldn't help it, but I could hear two horses coming up to us.
Let it be Mister Sam Silas and Ike and Bill and the rest of the bunch coming to save me, I thought inside my mind. I knew it wasn't them, of course. I knew who it really was, and my head and eyes were drawn that way.
I saw Jesus first, his hands tied in front of him and his face smeared with dried blood that had run from his nose. Then I saw Ben—big and dirty and as tall and strong as a tree standing over me.
"Hello, kid," he said, more pleased and eager than mad.
Then, he had hold of my coat and was lifting me right up off the ground and onto my own feet. His hands took hold at either side of my chest and clamped hard on my clothes and then the ground just floated out from under me as if I was staying still and it was the ground that was moving. For a moment there, for the second time in those few minutes, I was a little boy again. First, it was Josiah wiping my face and then it was Ben, lifting me up like Ma used to do when she'd set me up on the table to wash me off—or to spank me.
Ben began then, and Josiah had been right about one thing. In an odd sort of way it didn't hurt hardly at all. More than pain, I was aware of the sound of Ben's fists when they thunked into my flesh, and from someplace over my right shoulder, I stood and watched and saw and felt the jolts as each blow landed. For some reason, I could only feel it in my head, which wobbled back and forth when the distant, detached body beneath it was rocked by the force of the driving blows.
Somewhere in the middle of it, the me that was watching from over my shoulder lost interest in it and drifted off to somewhere else. Nothing could hurt me then, and I was pleased.
25
I'VE LOST THE details of the next day. What all we did and where all we went I just wouldn't know. I have an occasional recollection of the morning, but those memories are like a drawing in a picture book. They stand there by themselves with nothing happening before them and nothing afterward. The funniest thing is that there isn't any sound in the memories of that time—none at all, though I usually have a real good memory for anything I've heard, and can bring back a conversation word for word a long time after.
Anyway, all I have from that morning are these pictures. There's one of Jesus's face up real close to mine with a worried look. There's another of Josiah with a pistol in one hand and a bit of rag in the other. I guess he was cleaning it after he got it dirty by shooting at me. Another is of rocks and dirt and small plants hanging above my head. That must of been from being carried across the back of a horse—probably the packhorse since the steeldust was dead.
Mostly, though, that morning was pain. It still wasn't sharp pain. In fact it was really more of an ache that reached deep inside like cold will do on a windy day. That was with me all the time. No sound at all, and pictures that came and went, but the ache was always there. Way in the background, even when I was drifting off to some other place, that constant, deep, terrible ache was there.
By afternoon, I was starting to know a little bit of what was going on around me. I could feel movement as I was carried on the horse, and I had a vague idea that the motion had stopped for a while some time before. That had to of been for lunch.
Then the motion stopped again, and I could feel somebody taking me down off the horse and dragging me somewhere. I hadn't noticed how hot and bright the sun must of been until it got cool and dark. That fact registered, and then I was gone again. The next thing I knew, Jesus was talking to me.
"Hey, Duster. You awake now? No...don't go trying to set up or talk. I see you're awake. Boy, have you been out of it. You been moanin' and groanin' all day while they carted you around. You sure make a whole lot of noise for somebody that's passed out."
I opened my eyes and got quite a fright. I couldn't see a thing. "Ish darg," I said, trying to sit up.
"Lay still." Jesus was holding me down.
"Bud ish darg."
"What? What'd you say?"
"Ish darg. I cand see nuthig."
"It's dark? Yeah, it's night out and you ain't suppose to be able to see nothing. We're locked up in a storehouse. Now, lay still like I told you."
"Aw ri'."
"That's better. Just lay still and concentrate on feeling better. We're in a storeroom, like I told you, and we couldn't get out of here even if you was feeling perfect, so don't worry about it."
"Whad're we doin' here?" I felt like I had missed an awful lot and wanted to get caught up on what was going on. It seemed real important for me to know, even though I knew I couldn't do anything about it anyway.
"There...you're talking better already," Jesus said. "Right now we're at the ranch of them fellows' boss. He ain't here at the moment—I heard somebody say he's over to San Antone for the evenin'—but he'll be back tomorrow and I guess we'll find out then what this is all about. Until then we'll just rest up and wait."
"Hogay. You got any wadder?"
"There's a pail and cup over by the door. Wait a minute and I'll get it."
I heard Jesus crawl away and fumble around on the floor. While he was gone I eased up into a sitting position, and I felt a lot better when I had.
Jesus came back and guided my hands around a tin cup of water that went down tasting almighty welcome. As best I could remember I hadn't had anything to eat or drink since the day before.
I felt of my teeth to see they was all there and not loose before I asked if there was any food.
"They didn't leave any but I could kick the door and holler until somebody came to shut us up. They might bring some food if I asked."
"Naw, id ain't thad impordand."
"Good. Josiah and Ben ain't been in a real good mood today. They was put out about your horse being killed 'cause they was gonna each take one of our horses. Now they gotta toss dice for my horse, and one of them won't get any." Jesus paused for a minute. "Duster, I reckon they're planning on killing us after we see this boss of theirs. They wouldn't of said that about the horses if they were gonna let us go afterward."
I had to agree that it made sense. "Do you thig...thing...do you think they'd really do it?"
"Yeah, I know they would. They was bragging to me today about some Mexican they killed. I guess they thought that'd make me help them or something."
"Hey, I thod we was going to Mehigo. We ain't there already?"
"No, we're someplace not too far from San Antone. We didn't have too far to come today. Shoot, we even got a late start this morning. They...uh...for a while they thought maybe you was going to die or something."
"Really?"
"Yeah, but I knew better."
"Do I look that bad?"
"Naw...not too bad. They just thought Ben might of bu
sted you up inside maybe. But I knew if you'd been real bad off you wouldn't of been cussing when they tried to wake you up."
"I what?"
"You was cussing, I tell you."
I knew if I could of seen Jesus's face I'd of seen him grinning at me.
"I never did such a thing," I told him.
"You sure did. You was mumbling and cussing something fierce for a while there."
I couldn't hardly believe it and shook my head, even though he couldn't see what I was doing. It wasn't that I didn't know the words, for I did. Working around growed men—for that matter just growing up in a country where liquor and gaming were the ordinary way of things—I'd heard the words often enough. It was just that my ma was set against cuss words. The worst hiding I ever got from her was once when I was only eleven or twelve and tried out a new word or two when I got kicked in the leg by a cow that didn't want to be milked. As far as I could remember, that was the first and only time I really cussed—out loud, anyway.
There I went again, thinking about home. It made me feel lonesome and scared again, though I had forgot to for a second or so.
"Jesus," I asked, "what do you think are our chances of getting out of here?"
"Hey, you're talking real good again—did you notice that?"
"What I noticed was that you didn't tell me what I wanted to know. You seen this place we're locked up in, and I ain't. Now, what're our chances of squeezing out somewheres? I'll make it out if there's a way. You wouldn't have to worry about dragging me or nothing."
"Shoot, Duster, if there was any way atall I'd of drug you out before now. I've looked this place over an' the only way we're gonna get out is through that door when they open it in the morning."
"Okay." I thought on that some, but while I didn't like to hear what he said, I had to believe Jesus. He'd had a chance to look, and I hadn't. "You know, there's something I still don't figure about all this. We been brought all this way. We're locked up. You even think they might kill us. And I don't even know why."
"I don't either—not for sure. But I do know these fellows is gringo bandits. That was plain enough when I told them I was a friend of Juan Estrada. Anybody that wasn't another bandit either would of not knowed who I was talking about or they would of hit me right then an' there for bein' another greaser bandido. We know that much for sure."
"So what? We never seen any Texas bandits. Not even when we was with Estrada down by Fort Ewell. I just don't understand it."
"I tell you this much. If we got to be aroun' bandidos I wish it was Senor Estrada an' his Mexicans instead o' here with these fellows, eh?"
"Me too. They treated us like folks, anyway."
We got quiet after that and settled down to waiting. Me, I woke up a time or two during the night and got myself some more water. I was sore moving around, but everything seemed to work like it ought, so I figured Ben hadn't done me any serious hurt.
Come morning, we was both awake by the time you could see the chinks in the walls where there was starting to be some light outside. Not long after that, we could hear people moving around outside, and by the time we could see light under the door we were starting to smell bacon and coffee. Those smells just about drove me wild, getting my mouth to watering and reminding my belly I hadn't eat for better than a day.
"You think they'll bring us some of that breakfast?" I asked Jesus.
"Who knows." He shrugged. "It'd be sort of a waste if they're fixing to kill us."
"I wisht you wouldn't say things like that. It's about enough to ruin my appetite."
"Aw, there ain't nothing would keep you from eating—not even that." He grinned at me, and I felt better after he did. If Jesus could still joke at me things wasn't all bad.
"I said 'almost' enough."
"You didn't either," he told me.
"I surely did, an' don't you go denyin' it."
"You never said any sech thing. What you said was 'about', not 'almost.'"
"Well, they mean the same thing."
"They ain't the same, though. You went an' said you'd said something, and that ain't what you said at all. Duster, you went and lied to me. After all we been through together ... after me thinkin' we was friends. You go and lie to me. I just cain't believe it."
I picked up a scrap of leather strap from the floor and flung it at him.
"You sure are feeling frisky today," he said and flung it back. I ducked it, but it hurt to move that quick, and I guess I winced. "Not that good, though, huh?"
"Better'n yesterday, that's for certain."
Jesus's face got all knotted up like it does sometimes when he's thinking serious. "What is it you got on your empty mind, former friend of mine?" I asked him.
"Can you run? Today I mean."
"If I got to, I can. For a little ways anyhow. Why?"
"Well...I been thinking. We're a little ways west from San Antone, an' there's some little hills around here. That means the Medina River ain't far. If we got a chance to run for it, we might could slip into the brush in the hills and lose them at the river if there's water in it. Straight west from here is Castroville an' I got kin there who'd let us borrow horses."
"It seems you got kin everywhere we go—not that I'm complaining."
"Do you think you'd be up to trying it?"
"I'll try if you will. They cain't do much more to me than they already done once. Not short of shooting me, that is, an' if you're right they figure to do that anyway. We got nothing to lose by trying."
"Hokay then, amigo. If I see a chance to run I'll give a holler an' take off. That should draw their attention long enough for you to get started."
I didn't know quite how to say it to him, but I had to appreciate what Jesus was telling me there. I mean, he'd seen them two fellows shooting at me when I tried to run from them before and now he was offering to be shot at first so's I'd have a better chance to make it, slowed up like I would probably be. Anyhow, I didn't know how to tell him I was glad we was friends so I punched him on the arm and went to get another drink of water.
A little while later, Josiah fetched us some breakfast. Two steaks and a pan of biscuits made with real wheat flour instead of corn meal, the likes of which I hadn't had but maybe once or twice in my whole life. I could have eat twice as much, I was that hungry, but I wasn't complaining about it. What they had brought was too good to complain about.
"These fellas ain't lacking for the easy life, are they," Jesus said around a mouthful of biscuit after we were locked in and Josiah had gone.
"That's for darn sure. I don't know what a barrel of white flour costs, but I bet it's a pretty penny."
"They got enough of it to waste, too, if they're givin' it away to the likes of us."
"I wonder if this here's a last meal for the condemned."
Jesus grinned. "If it is I want a last request. I'm gonna refuse to go 'til they give me a mess of fresh-picked wild strawberries, eh?"
He knew as well as me that those wild berries had already disappeared for this year.
"You don't mind if I borry that idea from you, do ya?"
Jesus was about to say something back when we heard the door being opened, and we both shut up. I was feeling pretty good after getting some rest and having a bite to eat, but when I heard that door opening I laid down real quick and made believe I was still feeling real poor.
"Come on out of there, you two." It was Josiah's voice. He looked in and saw me laying on the floor and added, "Ben, you'd best drag your little buddy out fer some fresh air. He looks like he ain't feeling so good for some reason."
I remembered just then what Josiah had said about people being so scared of Ben after he'd beat on them, so when he came close I rolled my eyes and tossed my head a little and cringed away from him. He seemed real satisfied by the playacting I done. In truth, I was too plain downright mad to have time for being scared of that big lout for a second time. There wasn't much that I wanted worse than to get back at Josiah and especially at Ben for what they do
ne to me. When I seen Ben again I just got mad clear through, and if pretending I was cowed for fear I'd get another licking from him would maybe help me get loose, why I was all ready to give it a whirl. If they thought I was scared stiff and sicker than I was, it might come in handy—for me and for Jesus too, maybe.
Ben took hold of my shoulders and lifted me up off the floor like I weighed no more than a sack of shucks, then he hauled me outside and set me down on my feet in the hard-packed dirt of the ranch yard.
I spent the first few seconds blinking and squinting against the bright morning sun in my eyes, but once I got over that and took to looking around I could see right off why we'd been brought all this way and put to so much trouble. The man standing in front of us was the same standoffish dude we had seen down on the road to Fort Ewell, the one we'd seen right after we left Estrada's men in the brush.
I tried not to let on that I recognized him and so did Jesus, but it wasn't any use. He remembered us real well.
"You boys have greatly changed since I first saw you," he said in a polite, conversational tone of voice that sounded nice and easy though his eyes stayed hard.
He walked around us some, examining each of us in turn. "You," he said, pointing to Jesus, "were on the grizzled mule. And you, you had on a hat made of straw," he said to me. "I mention these little details only so you do not think you can fool me into thinking I have the wrong two boys here. Any such lying, weaseling attempt would only waste my time and cause me to become impatient with you." He smiled at us...but he didn't mean it.
I couldn't remember what Jesus had said his name was, but I remembered that he was a horse trader from San Antonio. No wonder he made out so good at it. He got his stock free after it was stole down in Mexico, giving fresh stolen Texas stuff in exchange.
He hadn't changed much since we saw him a month before. He was wearing another suit, black this time instead of gray, with a bright yellow vest, stiff pointy collar, and a wide tie that was done up in a fancy knot under his chin. He was wearing what looked to be the same dove's-belly color hat with a narrow brim.
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