Elmore Leonard: Cuba Libre

"Why don't you?"

It made him smile because he believed she meant it. "When you get your strength. I don't want you going around with bruises all over you."

"You promise?"

"I'm yours, girl, from now on."

She said, "I've never wanted anybody so bad in my whole life. You promise you'll always love me?"

"Wherever we are."

She said, "That's something we'll have to talk about, huh?" Beginning to sound her normal self again. "You want to stay here?" "Here?" "In Cuba." "And do what?"

"Run a cow outfit, a horse ranch. It's all I know how to do."

He watched the tip of her tongue play against her upper lip, back and forth, Amelia picturing things. He said, "Think about it while I'm gone. I won't be long."

He saw the woman in the sun hat watching them. She called out, "Amelia?"

Amelia glanced over her shoulder and then looked up at Tyler. "I almost forgotmwe need chaulmoogra oil. Should I write it down?"

There was a sameness about these city streets in Cuba, lined with one- and two-story buildings, stone and concrete, weathered facades wearing away, big windows with wood shutters open. Tyler found the street he wanted and came to the drug shop in the middle of the block. He heard people some distance away yelling, and gunfire that sounded more in celebration than serious. He wondered if today was some kind of national holiday.

Spotting a pair of Guardias in a doorway didn't seem cause for alarm; that's what they did, they stood around.

The drug shop was dim inside, rows of drawers on the wall behind the counter. The druggist, an elderly man in a white doctor's smock, asked to help him. Tyler gestured toward the street. "What's all the yelling and shooting about?"

The druggist's eyes came open behind his pinch-nose glasses on a black ribbon. "You don't hear? The Americans have come with their army. Two days ago in Oriente. You don't know about it?"

"Where did they land?"

"Two places, Siboney and Daiquiri, to march on Santiago de Cuba. Also I think Guantfinamo. You know where those places are?"

"I don't care," Tyler said, wanting to hug the man, "long as they're in Cuba. Have you heard they've had a battle?"

"I only know the American army is here, thousands of soldiers, thank God, finally."

"How did you hear?"

"It came to the train station, on the telegraph."

All kinds of questions were popping in Tyler's head, but now he was anxious to get back and let Amelia know. He told the druggist he needed a bottle of quinine, then brought a note out of his coat pocket and glanced at it. "And chaulmoogra oil, if you have any." He looked up to see a younger man in a white doctor's smock appear through a doorway from the back of the shop.

Right away this one, this clerk, staring hard at Tyler, said, "chaulmoogra-that was it, what the old man wanted I couldn't think of. Are you with the old man?"

"I might know him," Tyler said. "Have you seen him today?"

"You are with him, yes?"

"What old man you talking about?"

"You buy quinine and chaulmoogra as he did. Yes, you're with him, I know you are."

"Just tell me, was he here today?"

The druggist, looking confused, began speaking to his clerk in Spanish, Tyler not able to catch any of it except qud pasa, the druggist wanting to know what was going on. His clerk didn't even look at him. He said to Tyler, "Not today, yesterday. And you know where I saw him?" This young know-it-all looking down his nose at Tyler. "On the road talking to another old one like him, on the road by the banana trees. You one of the Americans they looking for, and you live at the leper house don't you?"

He didn't stay for an answer or even hesitate as the druggist was questioning him, excited now, raising his voice. By now the clerk was around the end of the counter and running out to the street yelling, "'iEstd aquit. iEstd aquf. r'" Telling anyone who could hear him, "He's here!" as he yanked on a rope and an awning came down across the front of the shop.

Tyler got his horse from under it, slapped its rump and swung up on the saddle as the horse bolted, stretching its head to run. Behind him he could hear the clerk yelling, "Chaulmoogra por los lazarinos!"

"I thought I'd die once Dr. Henriquez was gone. I said, "How can they take you? You're not even Spanish." It didn't seem to matter. When I think about it, it was only four months ago, during Mardi Gras when we met. Luis had been visiting the hospital at Carville? It's up above New Orleans-I'd heard of it, but of course I've never been there. Dr. Henriquez told me about his work here and I said, "Oh, Luis, please take me with you." I was prepared that moment to dedicate the rest of my life to these people."

They sat at the table in the yard cutting up squash and yucca for soup, both in sun hats and aprons, Miss Janes' hands in white gloves. She spoke in quiet tones, unhurried by her anguish. "Do you think I was foolish? My mother does. She can't believe I'm here. At least I keep busy-thank God for small blessings. I keep hoping I'll hear from Luis. I don't even know what I'd do. I can't just leave. Until you came I had no one at all to talk to. While you were ill Victor provided some company. You're so fortunate to have Ben. Do I envy you. I think, my Lord, just a few months ago my only concern, would my carnival gown be ready in time. This country, it's so primitive. I don't think I can stay much longer." "I love it," Amelia said. "It is pretty."

"It's beautiful," Amelia said.

"You're so lucky. How long, if I may ask, have you known Ben?"

It was the first time the woman had asked Amelia anything about herself.

"I've known him all my life," Amelia said.

It was a few minutes later the woman straightened, cocking her head in the sun hat, listening.

"What was that?"

Amelia was up from the table. She said, "Gunshots," running to the house where she stayed.

They saw him. they ran out to the street and saw the awning down and saw him swinging up on the horse and riding away from them. Tavalera looked toward the side street, waving for the horses.

Osma, his gaze holding on the horseman in white, was shaking his head.

"It's not the old one."

Now Tavalera was studying the figure becoming smaller up the street.

"Not Fuentes, no. It's the cowboy."

"That one rides a dun."

"It's the cowboy," Tavalera said. "Believe me."

Four Guardias came running with the horses and now Tavalera was deliberate in the way he mounted, careful not to appear eager. His troop behind him, he rode to the drug shop, where the clerk was in the street with his arms raised calling for them to stop. It slowed them to a dogtrot and now the clerk ran along close to the riders, pointing, telling them to go to San Lfizaro, the home of the lepers on the Imperial Road, two kilometers past the bridge, the clerk calling, repeating, "San Lfizaro!" as they rode away from him, Tavalera raising his voice to Osma: "What did I tell you. Under our nose."

So they would go to the leper home, not have to waste time looking up and down streets. They kept to a good pace and were coming onto the stone bridge when they saw him, the cowboy not more than a few blocks ahead of them. Osma pulled his pistol, a Broomhandle Mauser, extended it as he rode and began firing at the cowboy. He had little chance of hitting him, but it satisfied Osma to pull the trigger and hear the reports. Now they appeared to be gaining on him; he was looking back.

Saying follow me, Tavalera thought. Follow me and don't go to the leper home.

Now the cowboy was running hard again, continuing up the road past the grove of banana trees. Tavalera brought his troop to a halt at the entrance to the property, the leper home in there at the end of the lane.

He said to Osma, "You see what he's doing? He wants us to follow him, not go in this place. They're in there because no one searched it. Isn't that true?"