Elmore Leonard: The Bounty Hunters

"Like the other two," Madora said.

Flynn glanced at Madora. "If he doesn't show soon, we'd better start thinking. What about the rest of your trackers?"

"They'll wait a good hour before following: give us plenty of time. If something happens, they're on their own."

But a moment later, Three-cents appeared, crawling, squirming into the mesquite. He told them that two Mimbrenos were among the trees looking for the one who had disappeared, feeling through the pines carefully. "They will look only a short time more, searching a wider area. Then they will go to inform the others."

"Which means," Flynn said, "we go now or never."

"What did he say?" Deneen whispered, demanding, not merely asking.

"He said it's empty; we could drive a wagon through," Madora told him.

"That's not what he said!"

Madora did not bother to reply; he moved out and they crawled single file after him across the clearing, moving more quickly through shoulder-high brush hands and knees again across another open stretch and then into the pines. They waited, listening to the silence, then deeper among the trees they could hear crickets. They sing if nothing's disturbing them, Flynn thought. But even a cricket wouldn't hear a Mimbre. They moved on, creeping through the trees, brushing pine needle branches, holding them from swishing…and three of them gritted their teeth and felt needles down their spines as Deneen's boot snapped a rotted tree limb. They stopped where they were and dead silence followed.

Three-cents looked at Madora and when the scout nodded he moved off, disappearing into the darkness.

The clasp knife is in the left side pocket, Flynn thought, and his hand moved against the cloth feeling the shape of it. He could feel the weight if the pistol beneath his left arm. But no shooting, he reminded himself. He smelled the cold fresh smell of the pines and suddenly he realized there was no longer the sound of crickets. A movement in the tree darkness flicked in his vision.

He saw it again, a short quick shadow movement, and held his gaze on it, waiting for it to show again. When it did, he knew that it was a man, and almost instinctively he knew it was not Three-cents.

He glanced at Deneen. He hadn't seen him. The shadow moved again, coming closer cautiously, taking the definite shape of a man. It went through Flynn's mind: Joe's closest. It's up to him. Now he could see the shoulder-length hair and the colorless gray of the breechclout. He knew Madora, a few feet in front of him, was ready; but now he thought of Deneen, behind, slightly to the side, and he wanted to warn him not to move, but he knew it was too late. Joe-get the mouth. Whatever you do, don't let him yell. Let him take a few more steps- "Oh God!" and the pistol shot slamming the stillness on top of the words.

Deneen held the pistol out in front of him…the Apache was on the ground…but suddenly another shape was coming out of the trees…his thumb hooked the hammer and he fired at it…the figure hung motionless and he pulled the trigger twice again until the shape dropped to the ground.

Madora's voice suddenly-hoarse, urgent, "Stop him!"

Flynn was moving…one hand gripped the gun barrel, wrenching it from clawed fingers…the other tightened in uniform cloth to drag Deneen to the ground.

"Get off of me!"

The face beneath him was tight with panic, ready to scream again. Flynn pushed his palm down viciously over the mouth, holding it there, seeing the eyes stretched openMadora was next to him. "He shot Three-cents!"

"What!"

"The second one…It was Three-cents! The crazy son of a bitch killed him!"

Looking down, seeing the eyes, Flynn's hand tightened over the jaw. And one of the flashes in his mind, coming through the shock of Madora's words, said: This would be easy. But it was momentary. Ten years on the frontier was telling him something else, something undeniable, urgent…and he leaped up to follow Madora who was already moving, running through the trees. They reached the end of the trees together and paused, drawing their pistols. Then they were in the open-five, six, seven strides-and suddenly the gunfire broke, coming from three sides, pinpoint bursts of flame, stopping them in their tracks, forcing them back crawling, lunging into the cover of the trees.

Minutes later, after the firing had stopped, Deneen appeared. He said it once. "Goddamn it they all look alike. How did I know who it was?" That, by way of an apology.

Flynn could still feel the hot anger and he thought: Now that he's said that, he can forget about it. He's explained and apologized in one. Life is very simple. Why do you let it get so complicated-just look at it the way Deneen does. And within the first few minutes he also thought: Take your anger and use it now against these Mimbrenos. But he felt the closeness of the trees. No, it would be all right if you were fighting them in the open, with fists; but there's no place for anger here. They'll come at dawn and if you're still excited, two minutes later you'll be dead.

They moved a few yards to where there was more protection-the brush was heavier and a fallen tree formed a natural barrier on the side that faced deeper into the trees, and out from it there was a fifteen foot clearing to help some. The other side looked out on the open meadow they had started to cross. Flynn remembered that the next trees were about two hundred yards off, with Soyopa's cemetery beyond them. The threat was not from the open side.

Madora moved next to Flynn.

"They'll come soon as there's a hint of light."

Flynn nodded.

"How would you figure it?" Madora said.

"Come from the inside, through the trees. If they can count to five three times they've got us."

"Be all over before we could reload."

"Did you take Three-cents' gun?" When Madora nodded he said, "That'll help some. How many rounds you got?"

"About thirty, plus the loads in Three-cents' gun."

Flynn patted his coat pocket. "That's about what I got. Will they count shots?"

"Hell yes. What side do you want?"

Flynn was closest to the fallen tree. He said, "Well, now that I'm here." He glanced at Deneen who looked away quickly.

"Then you get this," Madora said, handing him the extra pistol.

"If you want to use it sometime, it's all right."

"Maybe next week," Madora said.

Now Flynn was looking out past the fallen tree, his eyes probing the darkness and the trees. There! Did you hear it? There must be a lot of them if they make a noise. The Coyoteros will be pinned down; there aren't enough of them to do anything. Twice he thought he saw movements, but he held his fire. Wait for the real thing, that will come soon enough. The time was passing and he knew it would not be very long and he was as certain as he could be that he would die within the next hour. You have to have time to reload. O my God I'm heartily sorry for having offended Thee. I detest all my sins because I dread the loss of heaven and the pains of hell; but most of all because they offend Thee, my God, Who art all good and deserving of all my love. I firmly resolve with the help of Thy graceThere!

His left pistol came up and fired. Count them! One. Another shape coming across the clearing, stumbling with the report. Two. A Mimbre darted from one tree to another and he missed him. Three. Don't throw them away! The same one came on, in view for a longer time, and he knocked him flat. Four. Madora's firing the other way. Don't look around. There…off left! The slamming report and powder smell. Five. Now wait…you're starting to reload…here they come!

He stood up suddenly, pointing the other pistol, firing, seeing them go down…four blasts from the pistol and two Mimbres dropped, one hit twice. Others were coming out of the trees! No…split-second indecision and they were going back in. Hurry up, reload! He inserted two cartridges, looked up, and when there was no movement he loaded three more; then the other gun.