Elmore Leonard - Last Stand at Saber River

Royce threw the shotgun aside. He stood breathing in and out heavily. “You like to killed me.”

“Where’s my husband?”

“Old Joe Bob’s straightening things out with him.”

She was aware of the children crying then. Past Royce, she saw them just inside the bedroom. Clare’s face was red and glistened with tears. And because she cried, Sandy was crying, with his lower lip pouted and his eyes tightly closed. Davis was staring at Royce. His eyes were round and large and showed natural fear, but he stood with his fists balled and did not move.

“There’s nothing to cry about,” Martha said. “Come kiss me good night and go to bed.” They stood in their flannel nightshirts, afraid now to come into the room. Martha started for them, but she stopped.

Cable stood in the doorway. Joe Bob pushed him from behind and he lurched in, almost going to his knees, but caught himself against the back of a chair. Davis watched his father. His sister and brother were still crying, whimpering, catching their breath.

Abruptly both children stopped, their eyes on Joe Bob as he came toward them. He said nothing, and no more than glanced at them before slamming the bedroom door in their faces. Immediately their crying began again, though now the sound was muffled by the heavy door.

Martha poured water from the kettle, saturating a dish towel; she wrung the water from it and brought it to Cable who was bent over the back of the chair, leaning heavily on it with his arms supporting him stiffly.

“Cabe, are you all right?”

He took the towel from her, pressing it to his mouth, then looked at the blood on the cloth and folded it over, touching it to his mouth again. His teeth throbbed with a dullness that reached up into his head. He could not feel his lips move when he spoke.

“It’s not as bad as it looks.”

Joe Bob said, “Then maybe I should give you some more.”

Martha turned the chair around, helping her husband sit down.

Cable’s eyes raised. “The children-?”

“They’re all right. They’re frightened, that’s all.”

“You better go talk to them.”

“You better not,” Joe Bob said. “They’ll shut up after a while.”

Martha looked at him now. “What do you want?”

“I’m not sure,” Joe Bob said. “We’re taking one step at a time.” He glanced at Royce. “I wish Austin and Wynn were here.” He was referring to his two brothers who also worked for Kidston. “They’d have some ideas. Man, would they!”

“Do you want us to leave?” asked Martha.

“Not right yet.” Joe Bob glanced at Royce again, winking this time. “We might think of something.” His gaze went beyond Royce, moving over the room and coming back to Martha. “You’re such a fine housekeeper, maybe we’ll keep you here.” He winked at Royce again. “How’d you like to keep house for us?”

Martha did not speak, but she held Joe Bob’s gaze until he grinned and moved away from her, going toward the kitchen cupboards.

“I don’t know if I’d want her,” Royce said. “She like to took my head off.”

“I heard,” Joe Bob said. He had opened a top cupboard and was reaching up into it. “Man, look at this.” He took down an almost-full whisky bottle, smiling now and looking at Cable as he turned.

“Would you’ve thought it of him?” Job Bob uncorked the bottle and took a drink. “Man-”

Royce was next to him now, taking the bottle and drinking from it. He scowled happily, wiping his hand across his mouth. “Now this puts a different light on the subject.”

Joe Bob took the bottle again, extending it to Martha. “Sweetie?”

“No, thank you.”

“Just a little one.”

Royce said, “Don’t pour it away. If she doesn’t want any, all right.” He watched Joe Bob lift the bottle and snatched it from him as it came down. Now he took his time, smiling, looking at the label before he drank again.

“I think we ought to sit down,” Royce said. “Like a party.”

“And talk to her about staying,” Joe Bob said.

Royce grinned. “Wouldn’t that be something.”

“Man, picture it.”

“Maybe we’d even pay her.”

“Sure we would. With love and affection.”

Cable said, “Does Vern know you’re here?”

Royce looked at Cable. “Maybe I ought to take a turn on him.”

“Help yourself,” Joe Bob said.

“Vern and I agreed to settle this ourselves,” Cable said.

Joe Bob looked at Royce. “He don’t talk so loud now, does he?”

“He knows better,” Royce said.

Joe Bob nodded thoughtfully. He drank from the bottle before saying, “You think we need him?”

“What for?” Royce took the bottle.

“That’s the way I feel.”

“Hell, throw him out.”

“What about the kids-throw them out too?”

“Do you hear any kids? They’re asleep already. Kids forget things a minute later.” Royce lifted the bottle.

“Just throw him out, uh?”

“Sure. He’ll lay out there like a hound. Else he’ll crawl away. One way or the other, what difference does it make?”

Joe Bob considered this. “He can’t go for help. Where’d he go, to Vern? To the one-arm man?”

Royce nodded. “Maybe to Janroe.”

“So he does,” Joe Bob said. “How’s the one-arm man going to help him?” Joe Bob shook his head. “He’s in a miserable way.”

“Sure he is.”

“Too miserable.”

“Don’t feel sorry for him.”

“I mean, put him out of his misery.”

Now Royce said nothing.

“Not us do it,” Joe Bob said. “Him do it.”

“I don’t follow.”

“You don’t have to.” Joe Bob drank from the bottle, then stood holding it, staring at Cable. “As long as he does.” After a moment he handed Royce the bottle and walked over to Cable.

“You understand me, don’t you?”

Cable straightened against the back of the chair. He shook his head.

“You will.” Joe Bob stood close to him, looking down, and said then, “You’re a miserable man, aren’t you?”

Cable sat tensed. He could not fight Joe Bob now and there was nothing he could say. So he remained silent, his eyes going to Martha who stood with her hands knotted into slender fists. Still with his eyes on Martha, he felt the sudden, sharp pain in his scalp and in a moment he was looking up into Joe Bob’s tight-jawed face.

Close to his belt, Joe Bob held Cable’s head back, his hand fisted in Cable’s hair. “I asked if you’re a miserable man!”

Cable tried to swallow, but most of the blood-saliva remained in his mouth. He said. “I’d be a liar if I said I wasn’t.” The words came hesitantly, through swollen lips. But he stared up at Joe Bob calmly, breathing slowly, and only when he saw the man’s expression change did he try to push up out of the chair. Then it was too late.

He went back with the chair as Joe Bob’s fist slammed into his face. On the floor he rolled to his side, then raised himself slowly to his hands and knees. Joe Bob stood looking down at him with both fists balled and his jaw clenched in anger.

“I hate a man who thinks he’s smart. God, I hate a man who does that.”

Joe Bob was feeling the whisky. It showed in his face; and the cold, quiet edge was gone from the tone of his voice. On Royce, the whisky was having an opposite effect. He was grinning, watching Joe Bob with amusement; and now he said, “If he bothers you, throw him out. That’s all you got to do.”

“Better than that,” Joe Bob said. He extended a hand to Royce though his eyes remained on Cable. “Give me his Colt.”

“Sure.” Royce pulled the revolver from his belt and put it in Joe Bob’s hand. He stepped back, watching with interest as Joe Bob turned the cylinder to check the load.