Duster (9781310020889)

by Roderus, Frank

  "This one does not look well," the man said to Josiah, hooking a thumb in my direction. "Does the greaser speak English?"

  "Passable well. If he tries to pretend he don't understand, old Ben'll make him savvy real quick."

  The dude strutted over in front of Jesus. He puffed his cheeks out until his side whiskers fairly bristled from his self-importance. "Well, greaser?"

  "Si, senor. What ees you wan' of me? Anytheeng, senor, anytheeng you wan' I weel do eet, si?" Jesus was just a-babbling away, and the dude was lapping it up.

  "I can make things quite difficult for you, greaser. You know that, don't you?"

  "Ah, si, senor. But I do nawthing to make you onhappy weeth me. Nawthing, senor."

  "That's good, greaser, because if you tell me what I want to know I could also make things very, very pleasant for you. In fact, you could come out of this with quite a lot of hard money in your pockets. You understand that all right, don't you?"

  "Oh, si. I onnerstand thees."

  "Good. Now all you have to do is tell me how many people you and this boy here told about seeing me near Estrada's camp. That is simple enough."

  "Mos' certainly, senor. But I mus' theenk back. Eet has been so many weeks ago, yes?"

  That should have been a pretty simple question and Jesus couldn't stall him for long. He needed time to think if he was going to come up with some way out, because even I could see that any answer at all would mean they hadn't any more use for us. Once this rich thief knew if he was safe or not he could get rid of us and know he was safer than he had been.

  I did the only thing I could think of to take their attention off of Jesus. I went limp and collapsed against Ben like I had passed out.

  Ben, he let loose of me and I slid down him all the way to the ground.

  "Now, what is the matter with..." The dude started to say something, and I guess he was watching me at the time.

  The next thing I heard was a loud and clear shout from Jesus. "Now, Duster, now," and I heard boots moving off at a mighty good clip across the yard.

  The dude and Josiah and Ben all started toward Jesus naturally enough, and I didn't wait for any invitation. I was off and running my own self then.

  26

  "HOW'RE YOU FEELING, Jesus?"

  He mumbled something and took a sip of water from the tin cup I was holding for him.

  Jesus was quite a sight. He had a tooth busted clean out of his mouth in the front, and his right eye was closed. The left was puffed up pretty bad too. He looked terrible and must of felt worse.

  We was right back in the storeroom where we'd spent the night. The chase had been fast and furious for a little while there, but it had ended with Josiah dragging me back and with Ben hauling Jesus in after first taking time to pound on him some. I had been caught quick, and from a distance I watched Jesus snatch up a stick and lay a good one on Ben's head before he went down. It had laid Ben's scalp open, and I guess that's why Ben hurt him so bad.

  Jesus waved a couple fingers at me to get my attention and croaked out, "D' I hurt 'im?"

  "You sure did, partner. He was bloody from one end to the next. You might not of got but one lick in, but that was a good 'un. I just wisht I could of done as good with Josiah, or better yet with that rico dude."

  From the way his mouth twisted it looked like Jesus was trying to smile. I had to respect him for that. I knew about what he had gone through, and it took a whole lot of guts for him to be smiling right then.

  We had been locked back up for over an hour, I suppose while they figured out what to do with us. As for me, I wasn't feeling any too good, but Josiah hadn't hurt me real bad when he thumped me around. He just put a few more sore spots on top of my leftover sore spots and let it go at that.

  One of the thieves, a stranger to us, unlatched the door and stood there staring at us for a second. Then he growled for us to "git outside but quick."

  I got mad again. "You tell that high an' mighty boss of yours, whoever he is, that my friend here's been hurt too bad to come at his beck an' call. If'n he wants to see us he can just come here to do it 'cause we ain't going to him this time."

  The fancy-dressed fellow stepped into the doorway just then. He must of been standing off to one side where he couldn't be seen. He give me an odd little smile and shook his head. "Just think of it. All this trouble wasted. All this time and effort for nothing at all because I thought you boys recognized me. And you still don't even know who I am." He shook his head again.

  Now, if he wanted to think that, I surely wasn't going to tell him different. Jesus had told me once what his name was but I didn't remember it. So in a way, I wasn't being untruthful about it since I really didn't remember who he was. And if he thought we didn't know him then maybe, just maybe...

  "Not that it makes any difference now," the rico said, dashing the hopes I was starting to have. "Now that you boys have been brought here once, you could always come back. And you could bring someone else with you. Unfortunate, is it not? Had I known to begin with, we could have avoided all this trouble—for you and for me—but now it is too late, and matters shall have to take their inevitable course."

  I knew what he was saying. He was telling us he was going to have us killed. I know I should of been scareder even than when Ben lit into me, but I wasn't. I guess I would of been if I had thought of it, but I was already plenty mad and he really set me off, talking like he did.

  "Mister, just where do you get off, making out to hurt us 'cause of some stupid thing you done? It ain't our fault if you went an' become an outlaw, stealing them animals an' swapping them off for Mex'can stuff. You got yourself into it, so you worry about gettin' out of it or taking your medicine for it or even keepin' on doing it, if you want. But you leave us be, by golly, 'cause we got no part in it and don't want any. Nor with you, neither. Jus' leave us be, an' quit beating up on us like we was the animals around here. You got no right."

  "Young man, I will admit to your spunk, and if pressed, I should have to say that you have a fine argument, too. You went directly to the heart of the matter and gave an excellent presentation of your case. However..." He waved his hands in the air some and ended up with a finger waggling from me to Jesus and back, "however, you fail to recognize that I very much enjoy the income my little arrangement produces. I am not willing to give it up. And given a choice between my interests and yours I do not hesitate to selfishly choose in favor of my own interests." He smiled again. "This is hard on you boys, of course, but it is by far the best thing for me."

  He turned to the other man and said, "George, stay here and watch them while I tell Josiah and Ben what needs to be done."

  Looking back toward Jesus and me, he gave us a shrug and a final word before he left. "After all, if they ever hang me for a horse thief they might as well hang me for a murderer too."

  The man named George stood blocking the doorway, and he had his hand resting on the butt of a pistol in his pocket. There just wasn't any way we could try to get away without getting shot then and there, not even if we was both feeling prime.

  I ignored George as best I could and sat down on the floor beside Jesus. "I hope I didn't say anything to make it worse," I told him in a low voice.

  "Is all right," Jesus whispered. "Wasn't nothing you could of said to change it either way, Duster."

  "I hope you're right. I'd hate to of done something to make it worse on you." I peered at him close. "Shoot, you look bad enough already—you don't need it worse."

  He gave me what passed for a grin. "What a waste of my youth an' good looks, eh?"

  "Yeah, and your charm too."

  We went on wasting time like that, me doing most of the talking since Jesus really wasn't up to much, until Josiah and Ben got there.

  "Come on, you," Ben said to us, real rough.

  I glared up at him. "What'll you do if we don't wanta come along? Beat on us again? You done that once already."

  "You'd be better off to come easy," Josiah put in. "It a
in't no secret what we're gonna do to you, but we got some riding to do first, and at least you'll be more comfortable until then if you don't give us any more trouble."

  "An' yeah, I'll beat on you again real good," Ben said.

  "He'p me up, Duster," Jesus said in a weak voice. "We'll go with 'em."

  "The greaser's smarter than you are, kid," Josiah said. "He's had enough of old Ben an' he wants to stay alive for as long as he can, don't you, greaser?"

  "Yeah, that's right, gringo. I do."

  I helped Jesus up, practically had to lift him to his feet, and supported him while he walked outside.

  George was waiting there holding four saddled horses, and one of them was the grulla Jesus had brought from our re-muda. Jesus had to be lifted up onto him, and I was thankful that horse didn't go to working out his kinks just then for I knew Jesus would of been throwed if he had.

  They put me on a scrubby little mustang that didn't look like much to start with and was limping from a bad joint in its near foreleg. It was for sure I wasn't going to make any mad dash for freedom on that nag.

  "What we're gonna do is ride back the way we come for a piece so you won't be found around here," Josiah said, "an' it don't make no never-mind to us do we carry you there in your saddles or tied over them. Make your own minds up about that. Me 'n Ben don't care."

  Josiah was sitting his horse next to Jesus, staring Jesus in his good eye when he said it. Jesus, he screwed up his face like he was trying to smile again but instead he spit at Josiah. He missed the face and landed a glob of bloody spit on Josiah's throat where it half slid and half dripped out of sight under his shirt.

  Josiah patted the front of his shirt and left a wet mark there on his chest. Then he reached over, casual as could be, and backhanded Jesus in the mouth. Weak as he was Jesus lost his seat and fell off the horse, so I had to crawl down and help him up.

  We rode back south and east, not talking since there wasn't much that could of been said among us. Jesus hung in there somehow. He swayed from side to side until at times I thought he'd fall again, but he never did.

  As for me, I sat quiet and watched the country roll by. The first time I'd been by this way, I hadn't noticed much that was around me.

  I also had a lot of time to think about things. Knowing somebody was about to shoot him down, I suppose a person would be expected to think a lot about home and dying and what he'd done as a little kid and things like that. I did think some about a few things like that, about Ma and the small fry mostly, and worrying about whether they'd ever find out what happened to me. That part seemed normal enough. What surprised me, though, was that I really wasn't much worried about it.

  What it came down to was that I just couldn't believe it was happening. Oh, I could believe easy enough that we was in trouble and might be beat on some more. After all, I'd seen that happen to both of us already. But I couldn't make myself believe Josiah and Ben would really shoot us.

  Somehow, I felt deep down inside that when we got wherever we was going Josiah and Ben would rough us up and scare us and then finally they'd ride off away from us and leave us be. I guess I just had to believe that.

  We was long since out of the hills near San Antonio and moved steady across land that rolled and dipped some but that hadn't much to be said for it. It didn't have the mean thorn brush of home though it had a scattering of spiny stuff here and there, and it didn't have the flat, sandy emptiness of the coast nor even the wide stretches of grass prairie that I had heard were further north.

  The time passed quick—too quick. Before long it was late afternoon and off in the distance was a motte of big oaks that I would of sworn looked familiar. Sure enough, we turned aside and in a few minutes we came to the dead steeldust.

  My saddle was still on it and the carcass had started to bloat. It hurt to look at it. I had really liked that horse.

  What hurt most was seeing the sack with my presents for the family. It was still tied in place behind the saddle, but now it was laying half under the dead horse. I couldn't help but think of the doll for Molly that was in that sack. The china face and little china hands was sure to be broke having been treated so.

  I turned my head to say something to Jesus, and there was Ben with a revolver in his hand.

  The gun went off with a sharp roar and a gush of white smoke, and Jesus's grulla dropped straight down with a bullet behind the ear. It dropped down straight and rolled over slow, but Jesus was still too weak to get out of the way and it rolled over his leg.

  Jesus laid there pinned under the grulla, watching Ben crawl down off his horse and walk over to him with the gun still in his hand. Jesus's face was white. I guess he was hurting pretty bad as well as being scared. And I could see his lips moving so I guessed he was praying like Mexicans will do sometimes. Still, he had enough gumption left to grab hold of a rock from the ground and hold it up like he was ready to fling it in Ben's face.

  Ben just laughed. "That's right, kid, this here's the place."

  Jesus said a few words in Mexican that I recognized were pretty serious cuss words. Ben must of understood them too, but he just laughed again.

  "Get on down an' get over by your horse, kid," Josiah said to me. He had got his pistol out of his coat pocket and was pointing it in my direction.

  That was the first time I really and truly believed they was going to shoot us. I was scared then, and I felt like I'd been drawn tight all over. My skin and every muscle in me was stretched taut.

  I glanced down toward the little mustang I was sitting, wondering if I could get one good jump out of him, but when I looked up again Josiah was looking straight at me and shaking his head. "He wouldn't make it, an' neither would you."

  So I got off the mustang and walked over to the steeldust—slow.

  "You know, we ain't really high on this, kid, but it's got to be did," Josiah said.

  "I don't s'pose it would make any difference if we promised not to say anything to anybody."

  "No, it wouldn't."

  "Can I say good-bye to my friend?"

  "Trying to put it off for a minute?"

  "It won't hurt you none."

  Josiah shrugged. "Go ahead."

  "They's no sense putting it off," Ben said, and Jesus cussed him some more, this time in English.

  "Kid, if you don't quit that, I'll..."

  "You'll what, gringo?" Jesus asked. "There ain't a thing in this world you can threaten me with."

  "Shut up, Ben," Josiah told him. "Let the little boys cry an' say bye-bye." He grinned. "Besides, the greaser's right— there ain't a thing you can threaten him with."

  I went over to Jesus and knelt down beside him, but I didn't know what to say to him and I guess he didn't know any better than me. We neither of us spoke.

  Finally I looked up at Josiah. "Can I at least help him get his leg loose? It ain't right that a person die while he's trapped on the ground like some animal."

  Josiah didn't say anything so I bent and dug away as much dirt as I could from under Jesus's leg and lifted on his saddle horn until he could work his leg free.

  "Come on, Jesus, I'll help you stand up. They might can shoot us, but I'll be dogged if we have to bow down to them while they do it."

  I was feeling all brave and righteous just then, and I couldn't understand why Jesus got a great big grin on his face.

  "Lie down beside me, Duster," he said in a low, quick voice. "Hurry."

  "Huh?"

  "Get down on the ground!" He pulled at me hard so I got down beside him, not knowing what he had in mind but going along with it anyway.

  From behind me I heard shots. A lot of them. And I couldn't understand why I didn't feel anything unusual. When I turned to look, though, I understood.

  Ben was down on the ground, sprawled out in an ugly, awkward way and bloody all over. Josiah was standing with his right hand up in the air. His left arm was hanging loose at his side with blood dripping off his fingertips.

  Off past them was Mister Sam S
ilas and Ike Partley and Crazy Longo and Eben and Tommy and Split and even Digger Bill with a shotgun in his hands.

  I'm not ashamed to say that I cried then.

  27

  MISTER SAM SILAS explained to us that night after we'd filled up on some of Bill's cooking and were still working on the coffeepot.

  "Those fellows might have been pretty fair hands at stealing, but they were not real smart," he told us.

  "We knew neither one of you boys are the kind to leave horses untended and just take off without so much as a by-your-leave. Besides which, Hogan was getting worried about you, and he told us about the pair of tough-looking hands that had been hunting for you.

  "When we found four sets of tracks leading away from where you had camped we went on back to Rockport right off." Mister Sam chuckled. "Hogan loaned us some guns, said we could return them when we got around to it. Didn't even charge for their use.

  "Anyway, we left B.J. Hollis and a young fellow who needed some work to take the remuda home, and we set out after you. We had already decided to stay the night on the river-bank back there when we heard a shot and Crazy Longo rode over to look. When he saw what was happening he got the rest of us and we wandered on over."

  "I guess we owe you a power of thanks," I told him. "You especially," I said to Crazy Longo.

  "No more'n I owe you. Call it even."

  "It ain't even, but I don't feel like arguing."

  From the other side of the fire Josiah stared at us. Bill had bound up the hole in his arm, jerking the rag good and hard when he did it, and now Josiah was tied up so tight his hands looked blue. He hadn't said a word, though. I think he was scared to complain, and looking around I could understand that. These men was my friends, but if I'd been seeing them for the first time, I might of been scared too.

  They had spent three or four tough days—it seemed a lot longer since I had seen them last—following a trail, and they was a rough-looking lot. Lean and unshaved and bristling with guns, they looked about as tough as any crew that ever was. To me and Jesus, though, they were the finest friends there could ever be. We was just a pair of kids, but they'd had faith in us.