Elmore Leonard - Last Stand at Saber River

Cable rose stiffly, watching Vern for another few moments, then trudged slowly back up through the pines.

Mounted again, he felt a deep weariness and he sat heavily in the saddle, closing his eyes time and again, letting the sorrel follow the path at a slow-walking pace. His body ached from the long all-day ride; but it was the experience of just a few minutes ago that had left the drained, drawn feeling in his mind. One thing he was sure of now, beyond any doubt. He couldn’t kill Vern Kidston the way Janroe wanted it done. He couldn’t kill Vern or Duane this way regardless of how logical or necessary the strange-acting, sly-talking man with one arm made it sound.

Knowing this, being sure of it now, was something. But it changed little else. The first move would still be Vern’s. Cable would go home, not hurrying to an empty house, and he would hold on to his patience until he had either outwaited or outfought Vern once and for all.

He descended the slope behind the house, dismounted at the barn and led the sorrel inside. Within a few minutes he appeared again. Carrying the Spencer and the field glasses he walked across the yard, letting his gaze move out to the willows now dull gray and motionless against the fading sky. When he looked at the house he stopped abruptly. Lamplight showed in the open doorway.

His left hand, with the strap of the field glasses across the palm, took the Spencer. His right hand dropped to the Walker Colt and held it as he approached the house, passed through the semi-darkness of the ramada and stepped into the doorway.

He stood rigid, seeing the strewn bedcovers, the slashed mattress, the soot filming the table and the caved-in stove chimney on the floor; seeing the scattered, broken ruin and Lorraine Kidston standing in the middle of it. She turned from the stove, sweeping aside fragments of china with her foot, and smiled at Cable. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

Cable said nothing, his eyes going to the shattered china still on the cupboard shelves, then to the stove again and to the battered chimney flue lying on the floor.

So Vern or Duane, or both of them, had become tired of waiting. Now they were doing something and this was a warning. Fix the house, Cable thought, then another time when you’re away they tear it apart again. How much of that could you take? Do you run out of patience right now or later sometime?

He could release his anger and kick at the broken dishes or yell at Lorraine, threaten her, threaten her father and Vern. But what good would it do? That was undoubtedly their intention-to rile him, to make him start something. And once you did what the other man wanted you to, once you walked into his plan, you were finished.

Lorraine was watching him. “When the wife is away, the house just seems to go to ruin, doesn’t it?”

He looked at her. “What do they expect me to do now?”

“I’m sure I don’t know.”

“Or care,” Cable said.

“Well, I’m sorry; but there’s nothing I can do about it, is there?”

“Did both of them have a hand in this?”

“I doubt if either of them did. They’ve been home all day.”

“I just saw Vern.”

“Alone?”

“You were with him.”

“Do I have to explain what we were doing?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Vern and I went for a ride after supper. When we reached the meadow he said he wanted to look at his horses. I told him to go ahead, I was going home.”

Cable said nothing.

“Well?” Lorraine looked at him inquiringly.

“All right. Then what?”

“Then I left him.”

“And came to see what he did to the house.”

Lorraine smiled, shaking her head. “Guess again.”

“Some other time.”

She caught the note of weariness in his tone. For a moment she said nothing, watching him stand the carbine next to the window and then move slowly to the table and place the field glasses there. “Did you see my horse outside?” she asked.

Cable glanced at her. “I didn’t notice.”

“No horse,” Lorraine said lightly. “That’s why I’m here.” She watched Cable gather the blanket and comforter and pile them on the slashed mattress.

“I was going up the path behind your house, taking the short cut home, when something frightened my horse. It happened very suddenly; he lost his footing and started to slide back and that’s when I fell off.” Lorraine touched her hair lightly and frowned. “I hit my head.”

Cable was looking at her again, sensing that she wasn’t telling the truth. “Then what happened?”

“Then he ran off. I could hear him way up in the trees, but I couldn’t very well chase after him, could I?”

“So you came to the house.”

“Of course.”

“You want me to look for your horse?”

“He’s probably still running.”

Cable paused. He was certain she was here for a reason and he was feeling his way along to find out what it was. “I’ve only got one horse here.”

“I know,” Lorraine said.

“You want me to ride you home?”

“The way my head hurts I don’t know if I could stand it.”

“Just for an hour? That’s all it would take.”

She was staring at Cable, not smiling now, holding him with the calm, knowing impudence of her gaze.

“We could wait until morning.”

He almost knew she was going to say it; still, the shock, the surprise, was in hearing the words out loud. Cable’s expression did not change. “What would your father say about that?”

“What could he say? I don’t have a choice. I’m stranded.”

Cable said nothing.

“Or I could tell him I spent the night outside.” Lorraine smiled again. “Lost.”

“You’re serious, aren’t you?”

“What do you think?”

“If you’re ready, I’ll saddle the horse.”

“I told you, I couldn’t bear the ride.”

“You told me a lot of things.”

The knowing, confident expression was in her eyes again. “I think you’re afraid of me. Or afraid of yourself.”

“Being alone with you?”

Lorraine nodded. “But I haven’t decided which it is. The only thing I’m sure of is you don’t know what to do. You can’t take me home by force; and you can’t throw me out. So?”

Momentarily, in his mind, he saw Lorraine at home sitting with Vern and her father evening after evening, looking up from her book and wanting to do something, anything, to break the monotony but having no choice but to sit there. Until she planned this, or somehow stumbled into it. Perhaps that was all there was to her being here. It was her idea of excitement, something to do; not part of a plan that involved Vern or Duane.

So, Cable thought, the hell with it. He was too tired to argue. Tired and hungry and her mind was made up, he could see that. He moved to the door of the next room, glanced in and saw that the two single beds had not been touched, then looked at Lorraine again.

“Take your pick.”

She moved close to him in the doorway to look into the room. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Whichever one you want.” He walked away from her and for the next few minutes concentrated on shaping and straightening the stove flue. He was able to put it up again, temporarily, but his hands and face were smudged with soot when he’d finished.

Lorraine waited until he started a fire in the stove, then told him to go outside and wash; she’d fix something to eat. Cable hesitated, doubting her ability at the stove; but finally he went out-washed up at the river, scrubbing his hands with sand and scooping the cool water into his face. He felt better being alone outside and he took his time at the river, then went to the barn and looked in at the sorrel again before returning to the house.