Norman Partridge - Saguaro Riptide

“I know just what you mean,” Jack said. “I’ve had my nose busted a time or two.”

“Well, you saved my life. I’m glad you showed up when you did.”

“Me too.”

They clinked their beer bottles and drank deeply.

“What about me?” Kate asked Sandy. “Was I here?”

“You were a little smarter-you paid cash.” Sandy handed Kate a registration card. “But you weren’t here, either.”

“Outstanding.”

“Yeah. . well, thanks for shotgunning that rapist bastard. That’s a load off my mind.”

“So what do we do now?” Jack asked. “I mean, we’ve got a few dead bodies lying around.”

“I’m only taking responsibility for two of ’em,” Kate said. “I shotgunned the hit man. And I shot the sheriff, but I didn’t shoot the deputy.”

“No,” Jack said, “you ran over her with your truck.”

“Hey. . she was already dead.”

“I’m not kidding,” Jack said. “This is serious.”

Kate sipped her beer. “I figure it this way: first, we put the hit man’s corpse up in room 23 along with Wyetta. We leave the Heckler in his hand, the Benelli near Wyetta. We put Ellis’s bootleg phones in the back of Wyetta’s Cherokee, and we park the Cherokee on top of the deputy, maybe leave the engine running and the door open-”

Jack nodded. “And the whole thing will look like a bootleg phone deal gone bad. But do you think anyone will buy it?”

“Not if we leave it at that. But if we leave an empty money bag in the hit man’s room and scatter a few hundred-dollar bills across the floor, it might look a little better. Hell, we can even toss a fistful of dollars into the wind, let ’em blow around the parking lot. It’ll look just like the end of Treasure of the Sierra Madre.”

“It might just work,” Jack said. “But what about Ellis and Priscilla?”

“Nothing to worry about there-Wyetta and Rorie killed Ellis, after all. No way anyone can tie us to that.”

“Sounds reasonable,” Jack said.

“What about me?” Sandy asked. “What was I doing while all this stuff was going on?”

“Hey-you heard a lot of shooting. You were afraid to come out of your house. And you saw the sheriff’s Cherokee parked outside, so you figured the cops already knew what was going on. That’s why you didn’t call them for, oh, maybe another fifteen or twenty minutes.”

“You really think they’ll buy it?” Jack asked.

“No sense worrying about that,” Kate said. “Either they will or they won’t.”

“So what’s the plan?”

“I think we’d better get the hell out of here, champ.” Kate gave Sandy a hug. “And I think when this whole thing blows over, maybe you better get out of here, too.”

Sandy smiled. “Maybe I can do that now. Something ended for me tonight. When that son of a bitch broke into my house … I don’t know, I guess it made me realize that I’m not going to live forever.”

“Closure’s a bitch, all right,” Kate said. “You and Dale, you find yourselves some greener pastures.'

“Oh, man,” Sandy said. “I forgot all about that damn dog.” She drained her beer. “Either of you seen him?”

Kate looked at Jack. Both said, “No.”

“Dale,” Sandy shouted, heading for the junkyard. “You coconut brain! You better not be dead!”

The sound that rose from the junkyard was only a dog’s bark. But somehow, it sounded more like an answer.

They drove to the ranch where Kate bought the Appaloosa. Freddy G’s money was in the back seat, next to Kate’s saddlebags.

Kate didn’t say a word. Neither did Jack.

He followed Kate to the barn and watched as she saddled the Appaloosa. “You don’t have to hang around,” Kate said. “That field dressing on your arm is just temporary, you know. You really should get yourself to a doctor who can do things right. The sooner, the better.”

“I’ll do that,” Jack promised. “I’ll call Freddy G. I’ll bet he knows a sawbones in Tucson who doesn’t report gunshot wounds.”

“All right,” Kate said, leading the horse out of the barn. “As long as I’ve got your word on that.”

“You sure you don’t want me to drive you up to Tucson while I’m at it? It seems kind of crazy, letting you take off like this.”

“It may seem crazy, but it’s the way I’ve got to do it.”

Jack followed her outside. She climbed into the saddle.

The corral fence was fifteen feet away. Jack remembered how easily Kate had jumped it the afternoon she bought the horse.

He was afraid she’d do that now.

He was afraid she’d leave without saying good-bye.

And he was afraid that she wouldn’t even look back.

“I’m sorry you didn’t get what you wanted,” he said. “You’ll never know what happened to Vince.”

“Maybe it’s better that way.” She didn’t turn around; she didn’t look at Jack; she faced the desert. “Look at it-it’s really just a big patch of nothing, isn’t it? But I know Vince is out there somewhere. Maybe it doesn’t matter exactly where. I figure I’ll ride out, and I’ll say my good-byes until I don’t have any left in me, and that will have to be enough.”

“Then what? Where will you go?”

“I don’t know. Maybe I’ll let the horse decide.”

She tugged the reins. The Appaloosa moved forward.

Jack watched her. Kate Benteen wasn’t going to turn around. She wasn’t going to look at him, no matter what he said. He was sure of that.

But he had to say something.

“First one who heals calls, all right?”

She laughed, shaking her head. Long dark hair brushed her back, shimmering in the moonlight, and she tugged the reins, and the horse pulled up.

She said, “I’ve got your number, champ.”

“That’s not a yes.”

“It’s not a no, either.”

Jack didn’t know what to say to that.

But Kate knew what to say.

“Hey, champ.”

“Yeah?”

She turned to face him, tears gleaming in her eyes. “Don’t let the sun catch you cryin’, all right?”

“Not a chance of that,” Jack said, and this time he was the one who turned away because he knew it was a lie.

“One more thing,” she said.

“Name it.”

“You stay close to that phone, okay?”

He turned, hoping to see a smile on Kate’s face, but she had already slapped leather and the Appaloosa jumped the fence, and then came the sound of horse’s hoofbeats and a rising cloud of dust, and Jack watched her go, the night wind wild in her hair, her face turned toward the moon and the long night ahead.

“I’ll be waiting,” he said.