Elmore Leonard: Valdez Is Coming

“What did they ask you?”

“Where you are. Man, what did you do to them?”

“Enough,” Valdez said.

“They want you bad.”

“They could have followed me.”

“But Mr. Davis brought them here. Listen,” Diego Luz said, “if you see him, give him something for me.”

“For myself too,” Valdez said. “You’re going to Lanoria?”

“My son is taking me to get these fixed.” He looked at his hands again.

“Will they be all right?”

“How do I know? We’ll see. I just need to get one finger working.”

“I’ll take you,” Valdez said.

“Go to hell. No, go where they can’t find you,” Diego Luz said. “I have my boy and my family.”

R. L. Davis came across the Erin woman because he was hot and tired of riding in the sun.

He had moved south along the arroyo with the three riders who would watch with him. “If he comes he’ll come from the southeast,” the segundo had said. But after the segundo left, R. L. Davis thought, Who says he’ll come in a straight line? He could work around and come from any direction. He told this to the three riders with him and one of them, the bony-faced one who’d picked up the little girl and who’d broken Diego Luz’s hands, said sure, it was a waste of time; he’d like to get a shot at this Valdez, but it didn’t have to be today; the greaser was in the hills and they’d find him.

That one, God, when he’d picked up the little girl, R. L. Davis wasn’t sure he could watch what the man wanted to do. Her being a tiny girl.

After a while he said well, he’d double back and take a swing to the north. The others said they’d get up on the banks and look around and head back pretty soon. Good. He was glad to get away from the bony-faced one, a face like a skeleton face, only with skin.

So R. L. Davis moved back up the arroyo. He wasn’t looking for anything in particular; there was nothing out here but the hot sun beating down on him. He saw the willow shade up ahead and the bright yellow blossoms of the brittlebush growing along the cutbank. The shade looked good. He headed for it. And when he found the Erin woman in there, sitting in the brush, tied up, he couldn’t believe his eyes.

It was a lot to think about all at once. Valdez was here. Had been here. He’d put the woman here out of the way and gone to see Diego Luz. And if he left her like this, tied hand and foot, with a bandana over her mouth, then he was coming back for her. The woman was looking at him and he had to make up his mind fast.

He could pull her up behind him on the sorrel and deliver her to Tanner and say, “Here you are, Mr. Tanner. What else you need done?”

Or he could wait for Bob Valdez. Throw down on him and bring him in as well as the woman. Or gun him if that’s the way Valdez wanted it.

The woman looked good. He’d like to slip the bandana from her mouth and get a close look at her. But he’d better not. There was a little clearing in here and rocks that had come down the cutbank. There was room in here to face him. There was room deeper in the brittlebush for his horse, if the son of a bitch didn’t make any noise.

God Almighty, R. L. Davis thought. How about it? Bring them both in.

Once he’d moved the sorrel into the brush, he got his Winchester off the saddle and settled down behind the woman, behind some good rock cover. He saw her twist around to the side to look at him, her eyes looking but not saying anything. Probably scared to death. He motioned her to turn around and put one finger to his mouth. Shhhh . Don’t worry; it won’t be long.

Crossing the pasture from Diego Luz’s place, Valdez saw the willows in the distance marking the arroyo. There had been some luck with him so far, coming in and going out, though he didn’t know Tanner and he wasn’t sure if it was luck or not. He didn’t know yet how the man thought, if he was intelligent and could anticipate what the other man might do, or if he ran in all directions trusting only to luck. Luck was all right when you had it, but it couldn’t be counted on. It worked good and bad, but it worked more good than bad if you knew what you were doing, if you were careful and watched and listened. He shouldn’t be here, but he was here, and if the luck or whatever it was continued, he would be in high country again late this afternoon, letting Tanner find him and follow him, but not letting him get too close until the time was right for that.

When he talked to Tanner again it had to be on his own ground, not Tanner’s.

The sawed-off Remington was across his lap as he approached the willows and entered the cavern of shade formed by the hanging branches. Holding the Remington, he dismounted and stood still to listen. There was no sound in the trees. He moved along the bank of the arroyo, beyond the thick brush below, to a place where the bank slanted down in deep slashes to the dry bed. He worked his way down carefully. At the bottom, as he entered the brittlebush, he cocked the right barrel of the Remington.

The Erin woman sat where he had placed her. She did not hear him or look this way. The bandana covered the side of her face and pulled her long hair behind her shoulders, which sagged with the weariness of sitting here for nearly an hour. You hold her all night and tie her in the morning, he thought. You make love to her, but you’ve never said her name. Now she turned her head this way.

He saw the startled expression jump into her eyes. He moved toward her, watching her eyes, wide open; her head moved very slightly to the side and then her eyes moved in that direction. Off to the right of her or behind her. Valdez shifted his gaze to the rocks and deep brush.

He moved forward again, a half step, and a voice he recognized said, “That’s far enough!”

“Hey!” Valdez said. “Is that Mr. R. L. Davis?”

“Put down the scattergun and unfasten your belt.”

Valdez’s gaze shifted slightly. There. He could see the glint of the Winchester barrel in the brush and part of Davis’s hat. He was behind an outcropping of rock, looking out past the left side, which meant he would have to expose half of his body to fire from that place. If he’s right-handed, Valdez thought. He remembered Davis firing at the Lipan woman across the Maricopa pasture and he said to himself, Yes, he’s right-handed.

“You hear me? I said put it down!”

“Why don’t you come out?” Valdez said.

The sawed-off Remington was in his right hand, pointed down, but with his finger curled on the trigger. He looked at the brush and the edge of the rock outcropping, judging the distance. He imagined swinging the shotgun up and firing, deciding how high he would have to swing it. You get one time, Valdez thought. No more.

“I’m going to count to three,” R. L. Davis said.

“Listen,” Valdez called. “Why don’t you cut out this game and use your gun if you want to use it? What’re you hiding in the bushes for?”

“I’m warning you to put it down!”

“Come on, boy, use the gun. Hey, pretend I’m an Indian woman, you yellow-ass son of a bitch.”

There. His shoulder and the rifle barrel sliding higher on the outcropping, more of him in the brush, and Valdez swung up the Remington, squeezing his hand around the narrow neck and seeing the brush fly apart with the explosion.

“Hey, you still there?” He shifted the gun to his left hand and drew the Walker. There was a silence. He glanced at the woman, seeing her eyes on him, and away from her.

“I’m hit!” Davis called out.

“What do you expect?” Valdez said. “You want to play guns.”

“I’m bleeding !”

“Wipe it off and try again.”

Silence.

“Boy, I’m coming in for you. You ready?”