The Serpent's Bite (26 page)

“Do you think he's all right, Scott?” she asked, conscious of the rehearsal aspect of the remark, as if an air of innocence would be appropriate at some point in the near future. Scott looked at her archly but did not comment. Had he read her thoughts?

They sat on a log, and Tomas brought them their dinner, for which they had little appetite. Tomas cleared away their metal plates, not commenting on their leftovers.

The sun had dropped behind the tree line when they heard approaching horses. This spared her any further reflection on such issues. Harry and their father rode into camp.

Their expressions told the story of their absence. Harry's complexion was florid and his anger palpable. He was quite
obviously drunk. Temple's complexion, on the other hand, was ashen, and he looked exhausted. Harry seemed shaken by rage and frustration. They watched him as he dismounted clumsily, shaking his head, fuming, barely able to stand. They ran toward their father and helped him down from the horse.

“Fuckin' pain in the ash,” Harry fulminated, looking toward their father with anger and contempt.

“Mean drunk,” their father muttered with disgust. “Look at him.”

“Fuckin' stupid jackass prick,” Harry cried. “Can't even take care of your own shit.”

“What the hell is he bitching and moaning about?” Scott asked.

“Lost hish fuckin' camera,” Harry said, pointing a finger at their father. “Had to go all the way back there to the goddamned lake to look for hish fuckin' camera.”

“Lost your camera, Dad?” Courtney asked.

“At first I thought maybe you guys had taken it with you, but then neither of you knew how to work it. Besides, you would have told me. I must have lost it yesterday on the trail or where we stopped at the lake. All the pictures were in it, everything I took out here. You know how important those images are to me. I can't imagine how I could have lost it.”

“Five fuckin' hours we looked for that fuckin' camera,” Harry ranted drunkenly. “Can't even take care of your fuckin' camera. You people are nothing but trouble. Fuckin' trouble. I don't know why the fuck I took you on. Worse mistake I ever made. God damned shtupid …” He upended his canteen, discovered it was empty, then threw it at Tomas. It missed.

“And where the fuck were you, you dumbass spic prick?” He shook his head. “Nowhere around when you need him. Where the fuck were you?”

Tomas shrugged and pointed with his chin toward the stream.

“I got hoarse calling you. Gone deaf suddenly?”

“I no hear,” Tomas said defensively.

“You could've gone with this
stupido
damn spic idiot.”

His accusation made little sense to Courtney. None of it made much sense. Yet he continued to roar out insults to their father and Tomas. Then he turned his drunken ire on Courtney.

“And you, you stupid bitch. Did I tell you about dropping the reins?” He looked at Scott. “Did I tell her?” Then to their father: “Did I tell you about the fuckin' quagmire in the stream bed? What am I, your fucking nursemaid?”

He was obviously beyond reason, a man in a drunken rage and probably dangerous. Besides, as they had learned from his killing of the mule, he had firearms. They speculated that he had emptied a half-full bottle and was frustrated and angry that it had shortchanged his intoxication.

“Why don't you calm down, Harry,” their father said, forcing himself to be the gentle voice of reason. “Go sleep it off.”

“Fuck you.”

“I'm grateful, really grateful for your helping me look for the camera,” Temple said, with both condescension and caution. “I appreciate it. I really do, but it's the booze talking now, Harry. Really, don't ruin things for yourself …”

“What did you say, Temple?” Harry cried, charging menacingly toward their father. Scott moved quickly between them. “You threatening me?”

“Don't be dumb, Harry,” Scott said. The outfitter stopped abruptly, his eyes moving to the faces watching him. He fixed his gaze on the Mexican.

“Bring me more,” he said, turning suddenly and staggering back to his tent.

Tomas looked at them, said nothing, and did not move. Something in his expression seemed strange. There was a thin smile on his lips, and his eyes reflected a bold assertiveness that Courtney hadn't seen before. It puzzled her. She looked toward Scott and motioned with her eyes toward Tomas. Suddenly, she sensed that the three of them were communicating in a weird way, with Tomas projecting something ominous that both she and Scott understood, although they could not articulate what it meant.

Suddenly their father broke the circuit, beckoning them to his tent. Courtney and Scott crawled in after him. They sat cross-legged in the tight space and spoke in whispers.

“I'm really sorry, kids,” Temple said.

“No point, Dad,” Scott said. “We drew ourselves a hopeless drunk. We've got to persuade him to take us the hell out of here. And fast.”

Tomas kneeled at the tent's entrance and handed over their father's dinner then withdrew. Temple picked at it with little appetite.

“It was scary out there,” Temple said. “The more he drank, the more belligerent he became. It was awful.” He shook his head. “All for naught. We never did find the camera.”

“Are you sure you lost it?” Scott asked, starting to look around the tent, looking under the sleeping bag and feeling around the duffle bag that held his father's possessions.

“I've looked everywhere,” their father said. “I must have dropped it somewhere. It's a real bummer, kids. I was hoping to make a record like last time.”

“It's okay, Dad,” Courtney said. “Unfortunately, the issue at hand is how do we get out of here unscathed? I feel as if we're held hostage by a madman.”

“He's okay and perfectly rational when he's reasonably sober,” Temple said, reaching for logic to ease their obvious anxiety.

“I don't think we can count on that, Dad,” Scott said.

“And I wouldn't trust him to take us out of here.”

“Would you trust Tomas?” Scott asked.

“I don't know,” Courtney mumbled, giving Scott a quick glance.

“It's like being caught between a rock and a hard place.”

They were silent for a while. Courtney looked out through a gap in the flap. Tomas was busy cleaning up around the fire, his face impassive.

“We've watered his liquor supply, Dad,” Scott said, explaining their action during the night.

“Is that good?” Temple asked.

“Never can tell with an addict,” Courtney sighed. “Maybe it made things worse. Maybe it wasn't too smart.”

“Let's think this out,” Temple said. “Maybe try getting out of here on our own.”

“Bad idea, Dad,” Scott said, shaking his head. “We're city-folk tenderfoots.”

“We might make a deal with the Mexican,” Courtney said. “Probably knows the way out.”

“You mean buy him?” Temple asked.

They exchanged glances.

“How much cash do we have between us?” Scott asked. “I have a couple a hundred.”

“About the same,” Courtney said. “And I doubt if he'll take credit cards.”

Her attempt at humor fell flat.

“I have about five hundred dollars. Obviously there is no need for cash out here,” Temple said.

“Might be enough for the Mexican,” Courtney said.

“Okay, so he takes it and then what? Harry sobers up and comes after us. Or the Mexican has second thoughts and leaves us stranded,” Temple reasoned.

“And remember Harry has a firearm,” Scott said.

“Let's not jump from the frying pan into the fire,” their father said, now in thoughtful mode. Courtney had often seen him this way, reasoned, practical, logical. Sometimes this attitude infuriated her, resulting often in more rumination than action.

“Our most important consideration is safety,” Temple said. “Let's hope we can talk to Harry when he sobers up.”

“We've been there,” Scott said, with a worried glance at Courtney, who nodded.

“And what happens when he finds out his booze has been watered?” Courtney asked.

“He blames Tomas,” Temple said, quick to understand the implications.

“Less booze, less effect,” Scott muttered. “Which was our motive in the first place. I guess lacking the full dose freaked him out.”

“We'll have to see how it plays out,” Temple said. “The way I see it, we've got to negotiate a way out of here.”

“From his attitude, one would think he'd be happy to take us out,” Scott said. “He thinks we're shit.”

“Or he may come on contrite again, full of remorse and willing to make amends,” Temple said. “Frankly it has me baffled. I've never come up against this in my life.”

“Spend some time in Hollywood. You'll see all kinds of irrational conduct, some by people addicted by substances and some by people addicted to meanness.” Courtney looked at her father.

“I just want us to get out of here safely,” Temple said.

“You meant well, Dad,” Scott said. “And hell, we did bond and get some family business out of the way.”

“Some family business,” Courtney said, with an edge of sarcasm.

Scott threw her a glance of rebuke. Their father smiled and nodded.

“I just wanted it to be perfect.”

“Not your fault, Dad.” Scott cut a glance at Courtney who remained silent. “It will be okay. You'll see. Probably sober up and realize he's made a perfect ass of himself. All we need is for him to be reasonably clearheaded until we get the hell out of here. In the meantime, let's just stay cool and not tempt the devil. Our objective is to blow this place in one piece. Right, Dad?”

“You betcha,” Temple said, shrugging. “Now let me take a nap. I'm really done in.”

Courtney and Scott crawled out the tent. Outside, they noted that Tomas appeared to be observing them with unusual interest, something rare for him. In the light of the dying fire, they noted that he gestured with his arm, motioning them
forward as he started walking toward where the horses were hobbled. He turned and beckoned them to follow.

Courtney was puzzled by his sudden interest.

“What the hell does he want?” Scott asked. He looked none too happy.

“We'll know soon enough.”

T
hey followed him across the meadow to a grove of aspens, out of sight and earshot of the camp. They could hear the quiet neighing of the horses and the metal of their hobbled movement. Tomas stopped and waited for them, leaning against a tree. As soon as she saw his expression and pose up close, Courtney noted that he seemed transformed, no longer the abused lackey, more like someone in charge.

“I get you out,” he said, his eyes narrowing.

He waited for his words to penetrate.

“You heard?” Courtney said in the form of a question.

The Mexican's eyes narrowed, and he suddenly opened his lips in a broad smile. He pointed to his eyes then his ears.

“I see. I hear. You think Tomas is dumb wetback.” He made a sound that seemed a cross between a sneer and laugh.

“Shit,” Courtney said. “The little turd has a brain.”

“Cool it, Courtney,” Scott warned. His voice betrayed his nervousness.

“What about Harry?” Courtney asked.

“No mind Harry. He too drunk. I take you out of this place.”

“What happened to all that ‘He be fine' talk, Tomas?” Scott pressed.

Courtney's insides had tightened. She was certain that there was more to this rebellion than Tomas was revealing and could barely control her inner panic.

“He not be fine, hombre.”

“You know the way?” Courtney asked, exchanging troubled glances with Scott.

“I know. I know this place good.”

“And when do you propose to go?” Courtney asked, puzzled and wary by Tomas's new incarnation.

“Tomorrow early.” He looked toward the mountain range. “Over Eagle Pass.”

“Eagle Pass!” Courtney hissed. “You can't be serious. I don't know if I can handle that.” She remembered how precarious it had been on the previous trek and her mother's reaction.

“Shit,” Scott squealed, as if he were in physical pain.

“Best way back. We go easy.”

“Just leave Harry here? Just like that?” Scott asked. He turned toward his sister. “There's more to this, Courtney.”

Tomas shrugged and grunted.

“Why you worry about Harry?”

“That's not the point,” Scott said. “He could come after us. He has a gun. Aren't you afraid of repercussions, Tomas?”

“He no got gun. I got gun now. We leave him horses and mules. He got plenty food. We be back in at trailhead in say one day.”

“Can't he make trouble later?” Courtney interjected, frightened, tamping down a sense of hysteria.”

“I tole you. You no worry about Señor Harry. He been paid. Bastard no make trouble, lose his license.”