The Collected Short Stories of Louis L'Amour, Volume Six (11 page)

“Why not start tonight? We’ve got to have gas and you could be there by morning.”

“Are you crazy? It’s twenty miles, and maybe thirty!”

“Well, what if it is?” she asked irritably.

“In this country, wearing these shoes, I’d be lucky to make it in two days! And without water? What do you think I am?”

“What a guy!” she exclaimed contemptuously. “You let me plan it all, do everything, and then you come off without enough gas to get us back!”

“Look, honey,” he protested patiently, “we had enough gas. There should be seven or eight gallons left!” He dropped to his knees and peered under the rear of the vehicle. “There’s a hole,” he said.

“A hole?”

“He put a hole in our tank…or someone did.”

“What do you think he intends to do?”

“Do?” Ash shrugged. “I don’t know, maybe call the cops. I’m more worried about us!”

“What do you mean?”

“We’re in the middle of the desert. Nobody comes out here. We could die, okay.” He sucked in a deep breath. “You’re worried about the guy being a witness. You’re worried about the cops. I’m worried about the fact that we’re in the desert and, unless it was a rock that put a hole in our tank, this guy Jackson is the only person who knows we’re here.”

“So what do we do?”

“We’d better wait. Cars have been over this trail, and one might come along. If none does, then I can start walking by daylight. At night I couldn’t keep to the trail.”

There is no calm like the calm of a desert at dusk, there is no emptiness so vast, no silence so utterly still. Far, serrated ridges changed from purple to black, and the buttes and pinnacles pointed fingers of shadow into the wasteland. Stars were coming out, and the air grew faintly chill. Monte Jackson pulled on his coat and crawled closer…it was time to have a little fun.

“I’ll build a fire,” Ash said.

“Don’t pick up a snake,” Monte said.

The woman gave a little shriek, but though their eyes lifted, they were looking some distance off to his left where a rock cliff had caught the sound and turned it back to them. Ash put a hand on his gun but kept it under his shirt. When there was no other sound they moved together and stood there, looking up toward the ridge where he lay, a long low ridge of sand and rock.

“Who’s there?” the man called out.

Jackson settled back against a warm rock, and waited. A tall saguaro, one of those weird exclamation points of the desert, stood off to his left, and beyond it the desert stretched away, a place of strange, far beauty, and haunting distance. A coyote broke the silence suddenly, yapping at the moon, the sound chattering plaintively against echoing cliffs until the long valley resounded with it, and then it ceased suddenly, leaving a crystalline silence.

He heard a stick cracking then and saw a flashlight moving along the ground, then more breaking sticks.

Monte turned his face toward the cliff and asked, “What about water?”

Ash peered around him in the gathering dark. “Hey you! We’re in trouble, we need help!”

“Trouble?” Monte said. “No. You’re not in as much trouble as you’re gonna be!”

There was a brief, whispered conversation. Then…

“Now see here,” the man blustered, “you come down! Come down and we’ll talk about this.”

Monte Jackson did not reply. The fire would help with the cold but it would not help their thirst. By noon tomorrow they would be suffering. They asked for it, and a little fear is a wholesome thing.

L
EAVING HIS POSITION
, Monte hiked up the wash to the spring. He ate a sandwich, had a long drink, chewed a salt tablet and settled down for the night. Awakening with the first dawning light he made coffee, ate another sandwich, and then returned before full sunup to his vantage point. The two were huddled in the jeep. But now the day was warming up, from a nighttime low in the mid-fifties, today it would be over one hundred degrees.

“It’ll be over a hundred today,” he called loudly. “Without water, you might last from one to three days. If you are very lucky you could make twenty miles.”

Ash got out of the jeep. “Wait a minute!” he called. “I want to talk to you!” His voice tried to be pleasant, but starting toward the rocks he slipped his hand behind his back, reaching for the gun. Knowing how difficult it is to see a man who does not move, Monte lay still on the dusty ground.

Ash got close to the rocks, then looked around. “Where are you?” he asked. “Do you have gas?” Ash scrambled over rocks and peered around. “Let’s talk this over. We need gas to get out of here.”

Monte said nothing, Ash was closer than he liked.

After a moment Ash gave up and walked back to the jeep. It was still cool, but clambering over rocks had him sweating profusely. He got out of his coat and mopped his face.

“Better save that energy,” Monte called out.

“Go to the devil!” Ash yelled. He scanned the rocks but had not yet figured out where Jackson was.

“We can go back to the spring where we left the jeep,” Paula suggested in a low voice.

“You won’t like the water. What do you think I did with the gasoline?” Monte lied. They both spun around.

“Damn you! Who are you, and what’s this all about?” Ash squinted at the area where Monte lay, he was looking right at him but couldn’t make him out in the clutter of rocks and brush. They
must
know he knew who they were; what he was doing was fun but it was also serious business and rapidly growing tiresome.

Monte Jackson decided to stop fooling around and get down to business—he stood up.

“Write out a confession and we’ll talk about water. I’ve got a canteen, and I know where you can get gas and fix your tank.”

“So it is you? Well, you don’t understand. You don’t understand what you saw. We can explain. Just come down…come down here.”

“I think I understand pretty well, Ash.” The man jerked a bit when Monte used his name. “I think Mrs. Burgess there killed her husband for his life insurance and then the two of you went out looking for someone to take the blame…preferably a dead someone.”

“You’re crazy!” Ash shouted.

“Am I? I think murder is a crazy thing, myself. I also think a man’s crazy to let a woman suck him into a mess like this.”

He let that soak in for a moment. “You’re an accessory, Ash, but, of course, they might believe you were in on it.”

“I’ve an alibi!” Ash shouted, but his voice lacked confidence. “Come down and talk. There’s money in this. We’ve got money right here. We can do business.”

“Toss your pistol up here and I’ll come.”

Ash swore. Neither of them had believed he knew of the pistol. “Like hell!” Ash yelled.

“All right by me, but don’t get any ideas. I’ve got a rifle.”

Waiting would just make it hotter, and after a while this seemed to dawn on them, yet the sun was blazing hot before they finally started. It was what he had hoped: to delay them until the sun was high.

“It’s twenty miles to Keeler. Or you can strike south for the Death Valley highway, but you might get lost, too.”

“Shut up!” Ash roared. “If I could get my hands on you, I’d…!”

“Get the beating of your life,” Jackson said cheerfully. “Why, you’re soft as butter, while I’ve drilled thousands of holes in hard rock by hand! You two think it over. A confession for water; you don’t think it’s a good deal now…but you will.” He backed into cover then turned and walked off, climbing the ridge until he was a safe distance away and out of sight.

They seemed to be talking it over then; after about half an hour, they again started walking south, down the road. The man glanced around occasionally, worried, no doubt, that they both might get a bullet in the back. Well, let him worry.

Monte followed and did not try to hide his progress. Ash caught sight of him, paralleling their track about one hundred yards west, and pointed him out to Paula. They didn’t like it, but there was little they could do.

T
HE SUN WAS HOT
and Monte had long since folded his jacket into the haversack. Neither of them had a hat and he did, and unlike Ash, Monte kept his shirtsleeves rolled down. He picked up a piece of float and examined it. They were walking steadily, but Paula lagged a little, and he had an idea that Paula wanted to bargain on her own. Obviously, she wanted to talk.

Ash slowed. “Come on, honey! If we’re going to get anywhere we’ve got to keep moving!”

“You go ahead. I’ll be right behind. I can’t walk fast in these shoes.”

Ash walked on, Paula glanced around and Monte let his head show over the ridge. She stopped at once. “I want to talk to you,” she invited. “Come on down!”

Selecting his spot, he sat down, making her come to him. When she was twenty yards away, he stopped her. “Close enough!” he said. “What do you want?”

Paula obviously wanted to come closer. She was accustomed to getting what she wanted from men, although after a night in a jeep she was considerably less attractive than he remembered her. “Why don’t you forget this and come in with me?” she invited. “You’ve got a rifle, and we don’t need him. There’s a lot of money.”

“What about that rap in L.A.?”

“We could say it was Ash. Come on, my husband was insured for seventy thousand dollars, and the house besides! Think what we could do with that!”

“Just think!” he said sarcastically. “Seventy thousand dollars, and us on the run for the rest of our lives. Funny, it doesn’t sound like enough to me.”

She stared at him, trying to figure him out. At that moment Ash showed over the last rise. When he saw them together he shouted and started to run toward them.

Jackson leaned his elbows on his knees and calculated the distance. The fool! Didn’t he know he shouldn’t run that hard in this heat? He watched him come. The effective range of a pistol is not great, but the actual range is greater than supposed. He would take no chances. He lifted the rifle. Ash slowed, then stopped, panting hoarsely. “No you don’t!” he shouted. “You don’t cross me up!”

Paula stared at him. “Quick!” she said eagerly. “Shoot him!”

“I’m sorry. I’m just not much interested in money. And, it’s really not that much money.”

“It’s enough!” she protested. “…and you could have me.” She stepped forward, as if offering herself to him.

He grinned at her. “You should see yourself!” Her makeup was streaked and her hair mussed and dulled by dust. She’d been attractive back in the bar in Riverside, but here…

“I’d rather just take the money,” he said.

She screamed, her face contorted, hurling epithets at him. Ash had come closer and now he brought up the pistol, so Monte stood, and with four sprinting steps was in the brush and rocks beyond the arroyo.

From his concealment he could hear their angry voices, and then Ash showed on the crest, the muzzle of his pistol a questing eye. His face was haggard and strained, his shirt soaked with sweat. He wouldn’t sweat much longer.

Monte took a pull at the canteen and rested in the shade of a clump of brush. Walking was okay but the running did not do his head any good. When he looked again they had started on and made almost half a mile. Paula Burgess looked beaten.

After a while he moved to follow, staying in the shade from the nearby ridge. When he again saw them they had stopped and were seated near some saltbush. They had reached the fork of the old desert trail.

From this point it branched south and then west to Keeler and north across the vast waste of the Saline Valley, waterless and empty. Paula had her shoes off and so did Ash. Obviously, they’d had enough although they’d come just five miles from the jeep. From where he crouched in the shadow of a rock he could see their faces were beginning to blister, and their lips looked puffed and cracked.

“How about it?” he called. “Want to write out a confession, and sign it? I’ve got water, you know.”

Neither made a reply, nor did they speak to each other.

He’d heard that it was typical of criminals that they are optimistic and always see themselves as successful. This seemed to have left these two with few resources when faced with failure.

“It’s only three. Even once the sun goes down the heat will hang on because it takes time for the rocks to cool off. By six it should be better. If you’re alive then.”

“Give us a break!” Ash pleaded.

“You’re not far from water. A couple of hundred feet straight down.”

“Listen!” Ash got up. “I’d nothing to do with this! She roped me in on it, and I had no idea she was going to kill anybody!”

His voice was hoarse and it hurt him to speak. “That’s tough,” Monte agreed, “toss your gun over here and we’ll discuss it.”

“Nothing doing!”

“Forget it then. I won’t even talk until I have that pistol.”

Heat waves danced in the distance and a dust devil picked a swirl of dust from the valley floor and skipped weirdly across the desert until it died far away in the heat-curtained distance. Ash had moved nearer, and now Paula was hobbling toward him.

“Throw me the gun! Otherwise I’m going back to my claim!”

Ash hesitated, standing there with one hand in his pocket, his face drawn and haggard.

“You fool!” Paula screamed at him. “Give me that!” She grabbed the hand emerging from the pocket and before he could move to prevent her she pointed it at Monte.

He flattened out and the gun barked viciously. Sand stung his face and in a panic he rolled over into the low place behind him and, grabbing his rifle, broke into a run, dodging into the brush even as she topped the rise where he had been lying.

Ash shouted at her, but Paula was beyond reason, firing wildly. Monte hit shelter behind a boulder, then heard Paula scream once more, the gun sounded again and he looked back. They were standing on the rise, struggling furiously, with Paula clawing at his face. But then Ash was backing away, and he had the gun.

“Four shots,” Monte warned himself. “There’s more to come.”

“Come on back! You can have the gun if you’ll give us water!”

Monte was beyond easy pistol range. He got to his feet and lifted the rifle. “Fire another shot, and I leave you for the buzzards!”

He walked toward them, watching Ash. “Give me the gun and I’ll tell you where there’s water.”