Elmore Leonard - Last Stand at Saber River

Manuel moved through the streaked shadows of the aspen grove, through the scattered pale-white trees, hearing only the sound of his own horse in the leaves. He stopped at the edge of the trees, his eyes on the silent, empty-appearing adobe; then he moved on.

Halfway across the yard he called out, “Paul!”

Cable parted the hanging willow branches with the barrel of the Spencer and stepped into the open. Manuel was facing the house, sitting motionless in the saddle with his body in profile as Cable approached, his face turned away and his eyes on the door of the house.

He looks the same, Cable thought. Perhaps heavier, but not much; and he still looks as if he’s part of the saddle and the horse, all three of them one, even when he just sits resting.

Softly he said, “Manuel-”

The dark lean face in the shadow of the straw hat turned to Cable without a trace of surprise, but with a smile that was real and warmly relaxed. His eyes raised to the willows, then dropped to Cable again.

“Still hiding in trees,” Manuel said. “Like when the Apache would come. Never be where they think you are.”

Cable was smiling. “We learned that, Manolo.”

“Now to be used on a man named Kidston,” Manuel said. “Did you think I was him coming?”

“You could have been.”

“Always something, uh?”

“Why didn’t you run him when he first came?”

Manuel shrugged. “Why? It’s not my land.”

“You skinny Mexican, you were too busy running something else.”

The trace of a smile left Manuel’s face. “I didn’t think Janroe would have told you so soon.”

“You haven’t seen him this evening?”

“No, I didn’t stop.”

“But you knew I was here.”

“A man I know visited the store yesterday. Luz told him,” Manuel said. “I almost stopped to see Martha and the little kids, but I thought, no, talk to him first, about Janroe.”

“He wants me to join you, but I told him I had my own troubles.”

“He must see something in you.” Manuel leaned forward, resting his arms one over the other on the saddle horn, watching Cable closely. “What do you think of him?”

Cable hesitated. “I’m not sure.”

“He told you how he came and how he’s helping with the guns?”

“That he was in the war before and wounded.”

“Do you believe him?”

“I don’t have a reason not to. But I don’t understand him.”

“That’s the way I felt about him; and still do.”

“Did you check on him?”

“Sure. I asked the people I work with. They said of course he’s all right, or he wouldn’t have been sent here.”

Looking up at Manuel, Cable smiled. It was good to see him, good to talk to him again, in the open or anywhere, and for the first time in three days Cable felt more sure of himself. The feeling came over him quietly with the calm, unhurried look of this man who lounged easily in his saddle and seemed a part of it-this thin-faced, slim-bodied man who looked like a boy and always would, who had worked his cattle with him and fought the Apache with him and helped him build his home. They had learned to know each other well, and there was much between them that didn’t have to be spoken.

“Do you feel someone watching you?”

“This standing in the open,” Manuel nodded. “Like being naked.”

“We’d better go somewhere else.”

“In the trees.” Manuel smiled.

He took his horse to the barn and came back, walking with a slow, stiff-legged stride, his hand lightly on the Colt that was holstered low on his right side, holding it to his leg. He followed Cable into the willows. Then, sitting down next to him at the edge of the cutback, Manuel noticed the horse herd far out in the meadow beyond the river.

“You let Vern’s horses stay?”

“I ran them once,” Cable said. “Duane brought them back.”

“So you run them again.”

“Tomorrow. You want to come?”

“Tonight I’m back to my gun business.”

Denaman, Cable thought. The old man’s face appeared suddenly in his mind with the mention of the gunrunning. He told Manuel what Janroe had said about John Denaman’s death. That he was worried about his business. “But I suppose that meant worried about the guns,” Cable said. “Having to sit on them and act natural.”

“I think the man was just old,” Manuel said. “I think he would have died anyway. Perhaps this gun business caused him to die a little sooner, but not much sooner.”

“I’m sorry-”

“Thank you,” Manuel said, with understanding, as if Denaman had been his own father.

“At first,” Cable said, “I couldn’t picture John fooling with something like this-living out here, far away from the war.”

“Why?” Manuel’s eyebrows rose. “You lived here and you went to fight.”

“It seems different.”

“Because he was old? John could have had the same feeling you did.”

“I suppose.”

“Sure, and I think you going off to war, and the other people he knew who went, convinced him he had to do something to help. Since he couldn’t become a soldier he did this with the guns.”

“Did he talk to you about it first?”

Manuel shook his head. “There were already guns under the store when I found out. John got into it through some man he knew who lives in Hidalgo. He didn’t want me to help, said I had no part in it. But I told him if he believed in what he was doing then so did I, so why waste our breath over it.”

“Do you believe in it?”

“I believed in John; that’s enough.”

“But what about now?”

“He started it,” Manuel said. “I’ll finish it, with or without the help of this man who’s so anxious to kill.”

“Something else,” Cable said. “Janroe told me that John was worried about Luz. That she was keeping company with Vern, and John didn’t like it.”

Manuel nodded. “She was seeing him often before Janroe came. Sometimes it bothered me, Vern being around; but John said, no, that was good, let him sit up there in the parlor with Luz. If we sneaked around and stayed to ourselves, John said, then people would suspect things… So I don’t think he was worried about Vern Kidston. If anything, John liked him. They talked well together; never about the war but about good things… No, Janroe was wrong about that part. He figured it out himself and maybe it made sense to him, but he’s wrong.”

“Luz stopped seeing Vern?”

“Right after Janroe came.”

“Do you know why?”

“I think because she was afraid Janroe would kill him, or try to, and if it happened at the store it would be because of her.” Manuel paused. “Does that make sense?”

“I suppose. Since she knew Janroe and Vern were on opposite sides.”

“Luz is afraid of him and admits it,” Manuel said. “She says she has a feeling about him and sees him in dreams as a nagual, a man who is able to change himself into something else. A man who is two things at the same time.”

“He could be two different people,” Cable said, nodding. “He could be what he tells you and he could be what he is, or what he is thinking. I don’t know. I don’t even know how to talk to him. He wants me to work for him and kill Vern and Duane because of what they’re doing.”

Manuel stared. “He asked me to do that, months ago.”

“What did you tell him?”

“To go to hell.”

“That’s what I wanted to say,” Cable said.

“But now Martha and the kids are living in his house and I have to go easy with him. But he keeps insisting and arguing it and after a while I run out of things to tell him.”

In the dimness, Manuel leaned closer, putting his hand on Cable’s arm. “Do you want to find out more about this Janroe?”