Elmore Leonard: Hombre

“No, Frank wasn’t anywhere near. He was still in Yuma then.”

“I guess that’s enough,” Braden said. “We got things to do.”

“I was just trying to understand it,” Mrs. Favor said easily. Her eyes shifted to Lamarr Dean who she knew by now was the talker among them. “You were working for the man who had the contract to supply beef.”

“Mr. Wolgast.”

“And you found out about my husband.”

“Audra,” Dr. Favor said, sounding unconcerned but hardly taking his eyes from Lamarr Dean or Braden, while the rest of us couldn’t help but watch him. (My gosh, the things we were learning all of a sudden!) “Audra,” he said, “you know we don’t have to talk about our personal business to these people.”

Braden moved away. “Let’s get to it,” he said and nodded to Early who started unhitching the team horses. As he stripped off the harness and brought them out, slapping them and keeping them moving, the Mexican, who was still mounted, bunched the horses and started them along.

The road formed two tracks out across a grassy meadow that was wide, pretty wide across and stetched on at least a mile with slopes rising up on both sides. As soon as the Mexican was off a ways, Early mounted up again and started after him.

Braden was behind the coach now and we saw just part of him as he yanked down the canvas and started pulling the bags off.

Lamarr Dean started looking us over then, I mean to see if we were armed. He took a revolver from inside Dr. Favor’s coat, a small caliber gun that he studied for a minute then threw off into the brush on the other side of the road. He went on to Mendez, passing Mrs. Favor and the McLaren girl, and Mendez opened his coat to show he was unarmed.

“What about up in the boot?” Lamarr Dean asked.

“A shotgun,” Mendez said.

“See it stays there and you here,” Lamarr Dean said. He came on to me and I opened my coat as Mendez had done.

As Lamarr Dean looked me over Mendez said, “You think it’s worth it? You won’t be able to show your face again.”

“I appreciate it,” Lamarr said, “but don’t give me no advice please.”

“I would bet you’re dead or arrested in two weeks,” Mendez said.

Lamarr glanced at him now. “You won’t have nothing to bet with.”

“All right, then remember it,” Mendez said. “You already have witnesses.”

“I don’t see any,” Lamarr Dean said. Braden came from behind the coach with a leather satchel. “Frank, you see any witnesses?”

“Not here,” Braden said. He knelt down to open the satchel.

Lamarr Dean moved on to Russell. “This one doesn’t look like any witness to me. Mister,” Lamarr said, “are you a witness?” He pulled Russell’s Colt as he said it and flung it backhanded, high up so that it glinted with the sun catching it, and down the road, bouncing and skidding way down it.

But Lamarr Dean wasn’t watching the gun. He was staring at Russell, up close to him and squinting, looking right in his face.

“I’ve seen you somewhere,” Lamarr said. The way he said it you knew it bothered him. He waited for Russell to help him, but Russell didn’t say a word. They stared at each other and every second you expected Lamarr to remember that day at Delgado’s, and you could just imagine him suddenly swinging that Henry rifle up and giving Russell the same thing Russell gave him, or worse.

Or Braden might say something about “the Indian” and then Lamarr Dean would remember. You waited for that to happen too. But, when Braden looked up, the bag open on the ground in front of him, he said, “I’d say it was a good day’s pay.”

Lamarr Dean looked from Braden over to Dr. Favor. “How much you steal so we won’t have to count it?”

Dr. Favor didn’t say anything. He was a man in a dark suit and hat standing there watching, with one thumb hooked in a vest pocket and the other hand at his side. The McLaren girl, Mrs. Favor, Mendez, John Russell-all of them in fact just stood there patiently, as if they had stopped by to watch but didn’t have anything to do with what was going on.

“He figures he’s helped out enough without giving us a tally,” Braden said. He rose, handing the satchel to Dean who took it and transferred the currency to his saddlebags.

“About twelve thousand I figured,” Lamarr Dean said.

“Somewhere around it,” Braden said.

“He did all right,” Lamarr Dean said. “But I guess we did better.” He saw Braden looking at the two horses that still trailed the coach on a line. “What do you think?” he said then.

“I guess they’ll do.” Braden looked up at the coach. “And the two saddles.”

Lamarr Dean looked at him. “What do you need two for?”

“You’ll see,” Braden said. He motioned to me. “You get them down.”

That’s how I came to be up on the coach when they rode out. I threw down Braden’s saddle, then Russell’s, looking at him as I did.

Russell watched, not saying a word as Braden freed the line and pulled in the horses and slipped the hackamores off them. He put his own saddle on one horse and told Russell to put his on the other.

Right then I thought, they’re taking Russell along as a hostage. It made sense; they hadn’t bothered us up to now, but they certainly weren’t going to be so kind as to just ride off. Which turned out to be right. Only it wasn’t Russell they took.

It was Mrs. Favor. Braden brought the horse over to her and said, “I thought you’d come along with us a ways,” sounding nice about it.

And just as nice she said, “I’d better not,” as if they were discussing it and she had a choice.

Braden held out his hand. “You’ll be all right.”

“I’ll be all right here,” Mrs. Favor said.

Braden stared at her. “You’re coming, one way or the other.” And that was the end of the discussion.

He helped her up, Mrs. Favor holding the skirt to cover her legs as she sat the saddle, and they moved off down the road. Braden stayed close to her and neither of them looked back. We all kept watching, nobody saying anything. Dr. Favor in fact didn’t say anything even before, when Braden was forcing his wife to go with him.

Lamarr Dean mounted up then. He sat there cradling the Henry across his arms, looking down at the people there and finally up to me, thinking about something, maybe wanting to be sure he hadn’t made any mistakes.

He thought of one thing. “The shotgun,” he said. “Open it up and throw it away.”

I climbed down to the driver’s seat and did as I was told, emptying both shells before heaving the gun off into the brush. Lamarr Dean nodded. He wheeled around and took off after Braden and Mrs. Favor, not hurrying though.

By now Braden and Mrs. Favor were about a hundred yards off, out in the wide-open part of the meadow. Way off beyond them there was just dust to show that Early and the Mexican were up there somewhere driving the horse teams.

I felt the coach shake; I remember that. But I didn’t look around till a moment later. When I did, there was John Russell kneeling on the roof right behind me unbuckling the cartridge belt from his blanket roll. He glanced up, keeping an eye on Dean who was taking his time moving away from us. Russell slipped the Spencer out, looking at Lamarr Dean again, and that was when he spoke.

He said, “How do they get that sure of themselves?”

I didn’t know what he meant, and certainly couldn’t believe he intended to shoot Lamarr Dean. I said, “What?”

“How do they get that sure with the mistakes they make?” Already he was slipping a cartridge into the breech, loading it quick for single fire. I guess I didn’t say anything then.

He was busy and it was like he was telling it to himself. “Luck then,” he said. “They think they know how to do it, but it’s luck.” I saw him slip three cartridges from the belt and hold them in his left hand. All of a sudden he held still.