Elmore Leonard - Tishomingo Blues

Sitting in the lantern light, Hector said, "He could have been a killer of bulls, a good one with his own style. But I believe he would have someone else plant the sticks.

"You know why? Because he likes to have people with him who know what they're doing. Planting the sticks looks difficult, but requires far less nerve than to go over the horns with the sword. I believe he can be anything he wants that catches his eye."

"Don't you know what he wants to do?" Tonto said. "He wants to dive off that ladder."

"He told you that?"

"No, but he would like to."

"How do you know?"

"See the way he watches that quiet guy dive off the ladder, that Dennis. Look at Robert's eyes, man, when he says `Hey, shit,' and shakes his head. He would give up something to do it. The guy high in the air, twisting and turning, is in control of himself, showing how cool he is. And Robert 's cool. He keeps Dennis around because he respects him as a man."

"You believe he wants to," Hector said, "but you don't know it."

Tonto said, "No, not the same way I know that guy down the street, the Confederate guy, is coming here. But the feeling I have about Robert is that I know it."

"From the other way also," Hector said, "two of them coming."

Jim Rein, the Fish, saw the two sitting in the lantern light. The one behind the table had the pigtail in his hair. The one at this end of the table had the bandanna covering his. He was looking this way. Jim Rein said to Newton, "That one there was at Junebug's with the general and the nigger." Meaning Robert, the one Newton was looking for.

Newton said, "Ain't those two niggers?"

Jim Rein said, "I think they's Mexicans."

Newton said, "What's the difference? They look like smokes to me."

They saw Arlen, who'd come from the opposite end of the tent street, facing them now, Arlen's Navy Colt stuck in his belt near to the front. Jim Rein and Newton wore their revolvers in military holsters with the flaps cut off. Jim Rein saw the one wearing the bandanna staring at him the same way he'd stared at Junebug's without ever saying a word. As Jim Rein and Newton came up to Arlen, Jim Rein saw the two Mexicans or whatever they were bring out their own Colt revolvers from wherever they kept them and lay them on the table-at the same time without saying anything or nudging each other.

Hector Diaz looked at the three Confederate soldiers in their hats with no style to them, no personality, three guys, Hector believed, who were used to scaring people by the way they looked at you. But now the expression on the face of the leader changed. This was the one called Arlen. He said, "How you boys doing this evening?"

Hector looked up at him. Tonto looked at the other two.

"Getting yourselves some air?"

They didn't answer that one either.

"Can't get you boys to say nothing," Arlen said. "How about your general, Mr. German-o? How's he doing?"

Hector smiled a little; he couldn't help it. He said, "Our general is asleep."

"You his guard dogs?"

"No, what you said, we getting the air."

"Ask him to come out here," Arlen said, "so I can speak to him. Or I can step inside the tent."

"I tole you," Hector said, "he sleeping."

Arlen nodded at the table. "Those pistols loaded?"

"Yes, they are," Hector said.

"You know you're not suppose to put loads in your guns?"

"Yes, we know it," Hector said, "the same as you know it."

Arlen said, "What're we getting to here?"

Hector turned his head to Tonto. "Fucking High Noon , man."

Arlen said, "I didn't hear you."

"I tole him," Hector said, "you want to pull your guns, but you don't have the nerve."

The one with the tobacco stains in his beard said, "What'd he say?"

But the one, Arlen, was louder, telling them, "You think that's what we come here for? To shoot you? Jesus Christ."

"Our Lord and Savior," Hector said. "No, I don't think to shoot us. Maybe scare us so we go home."

"We gonna see you tomorrow," Arlen said, "when we do Brice's, and run you off with rifle butts and bayonets."

Hector said, "And swords?"

"You want to sword-fight?" Arlen said. "I got a sword. Shit, we'll do 'er any way you want, Pancho."

Hector turned to Tonto again. "You hear this guy?"

Tonto only shrugged.

But then the one with the stained beard said, "Where's the nigger at?"

Tonto looked at him and said, "He left. He went to fuck your wife."

Hector could see the guy with the beard was about to go crazy, but Arlen stopped him, took the hand reaching for the pistol and twisted it behind him the way cops know how to do it, and that was the end of the visit. Arlen said one word to them before they marched off with the one still on the edge of being crazy. He said, "Tomorrow."

Hector looked at Tonto. "Tomorrow okay with you?"

A FEW MINUTES PAST SIXthe next morning, Sunday, the big day, Anne left Robert's suite to go down the hall sleepy-eyed to get in her own bed.

The one- Oh, shit -Jerry was in.

Jerry snoring away, the sound, that drone, coming from the bedroom. It stopped Anne in her slides as she entered the suite and got her thinking, Quick, where were you?

But first she'd have to know what time Jerry got back. Now she was saying things to herself like, Are you out of your mind? You actually believed he'd sleep in a fucking tent? She should never have listened to Robert with that baby, it's cool, nothing to worry about. "You don't want him walking in on us, we do it in my bed." Anne saying, "But if he comes back and I'm not in my bed-" Robert saying, "Come on, baby, have us a quickie and call it a night." Except that Robert was a slowpoke making love, kept slow-poking till they both fell asleep for almost six hours.

Fooling around could have its hair-raising moments, especially cheating on a gangster, and she'd tell herself it wasn't worth it. But then Robert would give her the look and she'd give him the look and they'd be back fooling around again. She slipped into the king-size bed next to Jerry to lie there waiting for him to wake up.

The phone rang at eight, the phone on Jerry's side of the bed.

Anne reached across him, stretching, for a moment her face close to his, lifted the receiver before it rang again and laid it back in its cradle. Slipping back across Jerry she came to his face, his eyes, inches away, open, looking at her. She kissed him on the mouth, a peck, and rolled back onto her pillow.

"Who was that?"

"I've no idea."

"Why'd you hang up?"

"It's too early to talk."

She waited, hoping that fucking phone would not ring.

"Where were you?"

Here we go.

"Where was I? When?"

"All fuckin night."

"I don't know what you mean."

"I come back, you're not here."

"What time was it?"

"What's the difference-you weren't fuckin here."

"Jerry. What time was it?"

"Twelve, twelve-thirty."

Anne said, "Yeah…?" taking her time, and said, "I was out on the balcony," adding a note of surprise to her voice. "I fell asleep on the lounge. You didn't see me? Yeah, I came in and looked at the clock. It was one-thirty, you were asleep…" She said, "I knew you weren't gonna spend the night in that tent."

"You were out on the balcony."

"Yeah, I can't believe you didn't see me."

There was a silence, Jerry lying there with nothing more to say. But now she was home free and couldn't let it go.

"Where did you think I was?"

Walter Kirkbride had started to get dressed with every intention of slipping out of the tent early, unobserved, before the women in camp were out there cooking breakfast. And he would have, if he hadn't looked over at little Traci turning onto her side on the cot, the little sweetie pulling the blanket with her to show him her bare white bummy. It lured Walter out of his longjohns to express his love. And then had to rest.