Don Winslow - Way Down on the High Lonely

Cal Strekker heard it all and couldn’t believe his ears. Couldn’t believe that Hansen would fall for this “fair fight” bullshit.

But it might work out, he thought. Might work out so all the witnesses to what had happened might end up dead. And if it didn’t work out that way, well… he’d have to see that it worked out. There were other groups out there looking to fight. The battle would go on.

He rested his sore ankle for a few minutes and then moved on. He’d wanted to get a position with a good view of the corral and be in place before dawn.

It came in a hurry.

The storm passed and a bright orange sun rose over the Toiyabes.

Ed and Graham kept guard as Steve opened the sliding glass door and Peggy and Shelly stepped out onto the porch.

Karen, with Cody in her arms, turned at the door and started to argue with Neal again. “I’m a better shot than you and-”

“You have a job to do. Do it.”

“This ‘women and children first’ stuff-”

Neal took her by the elbow. “I need you to do this. I don’t know that they’re going to honor the deal. You may have to fight your way through. Can you do that?”

Neal watched those incredible eyes flash in anger. “We’ll get through,” she said.

“I know you will.”

They walked out onto the porch.

Neal hollered into the air, “Hansen, we’re taking them to the car! Step out in the open!”

Hansen walked out of the barn.

“I have a rifle aimed right at your heart!” Ed yelled. “If anything-”

“Don’t worry!”

Steve put his arms around his wife and daughter and they walked toward Karen’s Jeep. Neal and Karen followed.

As they came around the house into the driveway Neal could see Bob Hansen standing near the corral and the barrel of Ed’s rifle sticking out the window. He glanced up and saw men in the hay barn, high up behind stacks of bales, looking down. He could feel eyes on him, feel the hatred.

Steve held Shelly in his arms and kissed her cheek.

“See you in a little while, tiger,” he said. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Steve felt her tears on his cheek. “Don’t cry, sweetheart. Nothing bad’s going to happen.”

“I know.”

She hugged him hard and then climbed into the backseat of the Jeep.

Steve and Peggy looked at each other.

“Gunfight at the OK Corral, huh?” Peggy said.

“I guess.”

“I’ll bring help,” she said.

“I know you will. Oh, and beer and cigarettes, too, okay?”

She came into his arms.

“Damn, how I’ve loved you,” he said. “And all I’ve given you is twenty years of crazy.”

“Wouldn’t have missed it for the world.”

They kissed and he helped her into the passenger seat.

Neal and Karen stared at each other. They wanted to embrace, but something stopped them.

Too many lies between us, Neal thought.

Karen held the sleeping Cody out to him.

“You want to say good-bye?” she asked.

Neal kissed the boy on the cheek. “See you, kid. Tell your mom I said hello.”

Neal and Karen avoided each other’s eyes.

“You’d better get going,” Neal said. “Be careful, huh?”

“Oh, yeah.”

She got behind the wheel, shut the door, and started the car. She put it into four-wheel drive to deal with the snow.

Neal tapped on the window and she rolled it down.

“You have Anne Kelley’s phone number?” he asked.

“In my pocket.”

“Okay.”

Their eyes met for a second. Then Karen rolled the window up, put the car in gear, and headed for the road.

Neal and Steve watched them go.

“I’ll bet that coffee’s ready,” Steve said.

“Good.”

They walked back inside the house.

Bob Hansen stepped back inside the barn. He knew the women wouldn’t get far. Finley and the Johnson brothers would intercept them on the road once the car got out of view of the house.

Then he’d take the boy and go. Maybe up to northern Idaho or Washington State, where he could hide out. Maybe overseas to South Africa, where there were white men who wanted to stay in the fight. He’d leave the valley and raise this child right, this time. Raise him to love his race and not be ashamed of it.

But there was business to finish here first.

“You boys about ready?” he asked.

Craig Vetter nodded. He was carefully cleaning his gun, checking his loads.

Bill McCurdy grinned and giggled.

Dave Bekke looked scared, but Hansen knew he’d go through with it.

Hansen looked up into the hayloft where the men were hiding behind the bales.

“Are you men ready?” he asked.

One of them gave him a thumbs-up signal.

“Remember,” Hansen said. “These are the dirty Jews who killed Reverend Carter.”

Then Hansen looked back east, toward the mountains where Carter had died. Carter and his own son. Hansen saw the sun clear the mountain.

Strekker was glad for the light. He crept closer to the clump of sagebrush he’d selected, laid down, and peered through the telescopic sight.

Beautiful. The corral came into soft focus. An easy two hundred-yard shot. He adjusted the bipod so that it was firmly planted and waited for the show to begin.

Shoshoko felt the sun on his back. He felt honored and grateful that the Creator would be there to see his death. Also it made the tracking so much easier.

Neal sipped his coffee and watched the sky grow brighter.

I’m glad I’m exhausted, he thought. Otherwise I’d be completely terrified instead of just scared out of my skin.

The coffee was exquisite. Maybe this is the way condemned men feel, eating their last meal, savoring every little smell and taste. But I wished I had touched Karen one last time. I wish…

He looked over at Graham, who sat with a pistol at his side and a glass of whiskey in his hand. And Steve, who had a revolver strapped to his hip, a shotgun by his hand, and was lighting a cigarette.

He looked at Ed, who had a rifle in his lap, his own pistol tucked into his belt, and his shotgun strapped over his shoulder.

“Don’t think about it,” Ed said to Neal.

“Think about what?”

“Dying. None of us are going to die.”

Neal thought about the men in the barn with their guns trained on the corral. He thought about Hansen and Craig Vetter and the other gunmen he’d be facing any minute. He thought about dying.

Then Neal heard Hansen’s voice. “Come on out, Jews! It’s sunrise!

Neal stood up. He grabbed the old Marlin 336 and cocked a round into the chamber. Then he helped Graham to his feet.

“Good luck, Dad.”

“Take care of yourself, son.”

Neal felt his legs start to quiver and the fear rise in his stomach. He looked out the window and saw four men approaching the far end of the corral. Bekke, McCurdy, Vetter, and Hansen.

Ed got to his feet. “Everybody remember what to do?”

They all nodded. Ed noticed Neal’s shaking hands.

“Hey, Neal,” Ed said. “I ever tell you about my days in the Marines?”

What the hell? “No,” Neal said. “I didn’t even know you were in the Marines.”

“Yeah,” Ed answered. “I was a sniper.”

He grinned at Neal and cocked his head to the door.

Neal propped up Graham and followed Ed out the door toward the corral.

The Jeep was cutting through the snow pretty well when Karen saw something move in a little dip ahead.

“Get down!” she yelled.

As they came over the dip, three men stood up in the road. John Finley raised a pistol in one hand and stuck his hand out for her to stop with the other. He had an idiotic grin on his face. The other two men lifted their rifles.

“Why, you arrogant bastards,” Karen muttered.