Nelson Nye - Rafe

The shod hoofs, going away, squandered no time in stealth. Rafe dropped, utterly spent, yet too feverishly filled with the whirl of his emotions to take any rest from it. He was up again pacing, when in the enfolding grip of deep quiet, hoofs pocked the night somewhere off to the left. One of the approaching animals nickered, and he came around, staring, on stiffening hips, certain even in the thick of this black there were more than two horses. He listened, canted forward, mouth open, heart thudding.

"It's only us," Bunny said, so calm he could have shouted. "Bill found your mare, and most of the grub that went off with your pack horse. Why don't you build that fire up a little?"

Why didn't he go stick his goddamn head in it! Rafe said, furious, "We're headin' for town—"

"Town!" Brownwater bleated like a scalded pig. "Gawd a'mighty! Sun cooked your brains, boy?" and Luce cried bitterly, "Alph Chilton—"

"There's bigger things than Alph Chilton involved!" He could see well enough to know the mare when she nuzzled him. He reached for the horn, then stepped back. "You'll ride with me," he grumbled at Bunny.

"Ride with yourself," Bunny said. "I'm comfortable."

Rafe stared.

Luce said, "Somebody has to be up there with Pa," and Brownwater nodded, "He's about done in."

Bunny, peering about, wanted to know what Rafe had done with her gelding. She didn't sound like she was minded to be put off.

"He went lame," Rafe said. "I pulled your gear and turned him loose." He took the reins from Bill and, hauling Bathsheba's head around, pulled himself up, so gut sick and weak he thought for a minute he'd go straight on over. Breathing hard he hung to the horn with both hands.

"I can't see," Luce complained, "why you'd want to go to town. That's the first place they'll—"

"Don't argue about it, just do like I say. Important thing now is to get there," Rafe muttered. He got his head up, tried to straighten his shoulders. "Lead the way will you, Bill? Let's get started."

The fat puncher said, "You don't look too good. Maybe Lucy better ride with your pa and let Bunny—"

Bunny's snort cut him off. "He don't need no help! What you trying to do—insult him? He's got a cast-iron hide and solid bone for a head! You might as well argue with the shadow of death. Go on and do what he says before he bows up and cuffs you."

The two girls exchanged looks. Brownwater, scowling, said, "Ahr—" but set off. Luce, behind with the knees sticking out of her hiked-up skirt, muttered, "Who does he think he is—Julius Caesar!"

Rafe waited with his mouth hard shut until Bunny, wheeling past with his father, fell in behind Bill. Then Rafe turned Bathsheba into their tracks, so hungry he was dizzy, so dry in his throat he couldn't have said anything that would have half done him justice even could he have shoved it through the things that were choking him. He had all he could do to keep himself in the saddle.

An indefinable while later Brownwater spoke out of the black at his elbow. "Lucy figgered mebbe you might want somethin' in your belly."

It wasn't quite a question, not even noticeably apologetic; it was, however, an overture and, after staring hard at the blobs of their faces, Rafe, still silent, pushed out a hand. The girl put a leathery something into it. "I—I'm sorry about what I said," she mentioned, leaning out from her perch behind fat Bill to slip a weighted strap over his wrist.

The strap was attached to a near-empty water bag. After he'd squeezed the last drop out of it Rafe peered at the chunk of dried meat she'd put into his fist. He got it all down and perked up enough to take a harder look at the things on his mind, the more urgent ones at any rate. Likely, as Luce had pointed out, town was the first place Spangler would head for. Whether he got caught or not, Rafe had to go there. It was the only chance he could see to put a crack in their plans, and he wasn't naive enough to underestimate his peril. Spangler or Duke would shoot him on sight—he had no doubt of that. Even Chilton's sheriff.

But the only alternative was to let these buggers get away with it, and he sure couldn't see himself doing that. He wondered what price Jack Dahl had for his part. It must have been a pretty because at least the start of this deal had been set up with his connivance.

The night began to grow a little gray about the edges. Most of the stars had gone. A smell of rain was in the air; the smell of death was in it, too. Unconsciously Rafe shivered.

When first light finally came, they weren't more than a mile and a half from town. The sky was overhung with clouds but the land behind looked grayly empty. Rafe peered hard without discovering movement, but wasn't building no hopes on that. Spangler, if they'd got hold of fresh horses, could have sent some of his gunnies on ahead while Duke and the rest started hunting for tracks. One thing sure—they'd have horses by now. And if they'd followed his tracks to where he'd left Bunny's Roanie they would have the whole story. Duke might of run, but not that guy Spangler!

Chilton wouldn't be at his bank this early; yet this was where Rafe was determined to see him. He pushed it around for a while in his head. They could see the town's roofs across the tops of the trees growing out of the bosque into which Rafe had fled when Spangler's gunhand took after him. He thought some more, scowling, then abruptly called, "Bill! You got any lawyers around here?"

"Only lawyer closer than Tucson," Bunny said, "is Alph Chilton."

Rafe swore.

"If it's legal advice you're in need of," said Brownwater, "you could ride to Camp Grant an' put it up to the military—"

"I've got to get this done before Spangler—"

"Daddy's a notary," Bunny said, watching him.

Rafe, even yet, wasn't sure he trusted Pike, but he didn't have much choice—not if he was to make his father safe. What he had in mind held some risk for Luce, but he couldn't help that. He had to act while he could. He got them into the trees where the limbs and leaves hid them, hauled Bunny off the old man's horse, helped Bender down; then, ignoring her spluttering, thrust the reins in her hands. "Go get him. We'll wait right here."

Choking back whatever she'd been going to say, she got into the saddle and rode off through the brush. Some things about her you simply had to admire.

The others got down; Luce, female fashion, putting store on appearance, trying to cuff some of the dust and wrinkles from her clothes. "Whatever you two have got up your sleeves, I hope—"

Rafe said, cutting in, "All we got to do is cinch our hulls on this critter," and tossed Brownwater the chunk of rock he'd picked up. The fat puncher took one look and whistled. It was hard to keep still after that but he done it. Luce, all agog, kept reaming him with her stares and, when this failed to unlock his lips, stuck her nose in the air and gave him her back. Rafe watched the town through their lattice of branches.

He'd about given Bunny up and, in a lather of impatience, was getting ready to move when she came up through the brush without her pa, and afoot. "You don't need to swear," she said, eying Rafe's scowl. "Daddy's coming. In the buggy. He's gone around by the road."

Rafe helped his father into the skewbald's saddle, grabbed hold of her cheekstrap and set off, the rest following. He could hear Luce back of him dinging at Bill, and the snapping of the brush and the hoofs of the horses coming through the leafy mold. "We're making enough racket," Bunny said, "for a herd of elephants." Things quieted down after that and Luce quit talking.

Rafe stood listening at the edge of the growth. All of them stopped when they saw him put a hand up, and the skreak and rattle of an approaching vehicle rumbled plainly off the planks bridging the gully at the edge of town. Rafe got Bender off Bathsheba. "You an' Pa," he said to Bunny, "will ride in the buggy. Soon as you're aboard have Pike turn it round an' head for the bank. Luce—"