Elmore Leonard: The Bounty Hunters

The Mimbre stopped. In the moaning tone, a word in the Mimbreno dialect came from Three-cents. And in the corner of Flynn's eye the Mimbre moved again. All right, get him.

But as he rose, Madora was suddenly, silently behind the Mimbre and the next moment his arms were around him, forearm viselike against the throat and hand clamped over the mouth, dragging the warrior to the ground with him. Three-cents stood over them. Without hesitating he pushed his knife into the Mimbre's chest.

They went on, carrying the Apache, for he could not be left there for the others to find. When it's light, Flynn thought, they'll read the signs. That will make it harder to get back. But what might happen after sunup was something to think of then. They moved on through the darkness.

Three-cents signaled when they neared the place where the others were. A soft low whistle…silence…then an answering whistle and within a minute there were Coyotero scouts all around them.

"Where is he?" Flynn said to Madora. Here was another pine stand and in the darkness he could see only the Coyoteros standing close by.

Madora pointed. "He was right over there before."

"You'd think three men walking in at night would interest him."

"He's got enough troubles without looking for more."

"Joe, there's another problem now we didn't count on before." He indicated the dead Mimbre. "Tonight they'll miss him; tomorrow they'll be getting in each other's way looking for him."

Madora nodded. "I agree."

"So," Flynn went on, "if we're going back to the village, it's got to be tonight or not at all."

"But," Madora said, "you got to convince Deneen crawling through their line's the thing to do-anytime."

"I'll convince him," Flynn said, and looked at the Mimbre again. "We'd better get rid of him."

"We'll bury him."

"When we go back it should be in two or three groups. What do you think?"

Madora nodded. "I'll work it out with Three-cents, you go talk to Horse's-ass."

Colonel Deneen was lying down, head on his saddle bag and a blanket covering him as Flynn entered the small clearing Deneen had reserved for himself; but in one abrupt movement the blanket was thrown back and he was sitting up, pointing a pistol at Flynn.

"Who is it?"

"Flynn." He started to explain, "Madora brought me out…" but he stopped. God, he should know that much.

"Well, goddamn it, sit down! I don't care for you standing there looming over me!"

"I didn't mean to frighten you."

"You didn't frighten me, I assure you. Where's Bowers?"

"Soyopa."

"Why didn't he come?"

"It wasn't necessary."

Sitting down, Flynn studied the man, trying to see the face clearly in the darkness. The face had changed, but he could not make out details other than it being in need of a shave, perhaps drawn. Bluntly now, Flynn asked, "What are you going to do?"

"I haven't decided."

"It's less than four hours to daylight."

"So?"

"We killed a Mimbre on the way out. As soon as it's light they'll be looking for him."

"So?"

"So we'll have to start back to the village now while it's still dark," Flynn said patiently.

"And since I happen to command, and don't choose to go to the village, what then?"

"It would be better if you went."

"Are you threatening me, Flynn?"

God, he's sitting on the edge of his nerves! "Of course I'm not threatening. I'm reminding you that with the sun something's bound to happen. It would be too late then to get back to the village and those people might need all the help they can get."

Abruptly then, in a tone intended to sound calm, natural, Deneen said, "I suppose you were surprised to find me here."

Flynn nodded. "Somewhat."

"The general decided I had better look into this myself, since it has possibilities of an extensive border campaign. It's been my argument right along, one push from both sides of the border will squeeze every Apache man, woman and child out of the hills right where we want them." As he said this, his voice sounded natural.

He's been rehearsing this one, Flynn thought.

Deneen went on, "I'm contacting the local rurale officer first…at my own time. Do you know him?"

Flynn nodded.

"There in that village?"

Flynn nodded again.

"Well goddamn it speak up! What's his authority!"

"Do you really want to know?"

"What!"

Flynn's voice was calm. "Look, there are only a few hours until light. I think it would be wise if we started back right now instead of sitting here playing games. I know why you're here. Everyone does, and you know it. And I'll tell you this…I don't give a good damn what happened between you and the general. That's past history, to me it's as dead as what happened that night at Chancellorsville. You've made that one live on even when I was trying to forget it, and now you throw this border campaign nonsense in my face and expect me to swallow it, pretending you're on a secret mission…like I've been doing with Bowers for the past week-trying to act like this is an honest-to-God assignment; half wanting to help him keep his faith in the army, half wanting to tell him what a real son of a bitch you really are, but not having the heart because to him a colonel, even you, is a rank that takes time, guts and a military mind." Flynn stopped, but abruptly he added, "Why did you send him?"

Deneen stared with the rage plain in his face, even in the darkness, and he was not able to speak.

"Maybe I can answer it myself," Flynn said, watching Deneen closely. He started out slowly, "Bowers' father, the brigadier, was there. Maybe he saw you do it…or he was in the medical tent after and could tell gunshot from shrapnel and had time to figure where a doctor there wouldn't. Either way, you were aware of his knowing. Perhaps you'd forgotten it over the years, but when the boy showed up at Whipple there it was again and you took it for granted the brigadier had told his boy about the cowardly act of a Captain Deneen one night at Chancellorsville. If Bowers knows about it, he's not saying, but the chances are remote that he even does, because his father wasn't the kind of man to let it get beyond him. But maybe he should have told…and had you drummed out of the service. No, you should have resigned yourself. But instead you stuck it out, because after the war there wouldn't be any more Chancellorsvilles…and now some men have paid with their lives because you're a rotten officer and not honest enough to admit it…because two men you think know about a mistake you once made, you conclude the only thing to do is get rid of them before everybody knows." Flynn paused. "Your big mistake was pointing that pistol at your foot-you were about five feet too low."

"Is that all you have to say, Flynn?" Deneen kept his voice calm.

"One other thing."

"What is that?"

"You're going to the village."

"At the point of a gun?" Deneen half smiled. "I think not. And we'll stay as long as I choose to."

"If you do, you'll stay alone."

"Madora is under my command. If I stay, he'll stay…and with all of his men!"

Turning to go, Flynn said quietly, "Ask him."

They waited in the darkness crouched low in the mesquite, watching the pines off across the clearing. Clouds had formed in the night sky and now the moonwash was a soft haze that barely outlined the dense shape of the trees.

Madora said, "How long now?"

"About twenty minutes," Flynn answered.

"That's not so good."

"Maybe they're close and he can't move."

Deneen, crouched at Flynn's right, moved his leg and his boot scraped the loose sandy rock.

Madora's head turned. "Why don't you ring a bell?"

Deneen began, "Madora, you'll be sorry you ever…"

"Damn it-shut up!"

Indicating the pines across the clearing, Flynn said, "That's where the Mimbre was killed…maybe he's run into something."