"You got him?"
Frye nodded. "Last night."
"I'd like to've seen that."
"What about you boys?"
"I came back to find you. We got the others holed up."
"Where?"
"Up a ways. Danaher wanted to wait for you."
Ford grinned. "They're hiding up in an old mine works and don't know we know it."
From the window of the assay shack, looking down the slope, Tindal could see most of the deserte d mine works: the ore tailings, furrowed gravel pile s that stretched down the slope in long humps, an d just behind the first tailing he could see the top par t of the mainshaft scaffolding. Where the ore tailin g petered out into the canyon floor he could see th e crushing mill and giant cyanide vats, five of them , cradled in a rickety wooden frame.
He remembered the time he had visited here, a guest of--he could not think of the man's firs t name--something Butler. Butler had lived in Randado and had owned a small interest in the mine.
They had not climbed the slope to the assay shack, but had stayed over there across the canyon wher e the company buildings were: now dilapidated an d two of the four were roofless and you could see th e framework of studs that the roof planks and tar paper had been nailed to.
The houses were built at the base of the slope and the verandas were supported on stilts. Butle r standing on the steps, a cigar in his mouth, explaining the operation--
". . . it's got to be dry-crushed to pass a twenty by sixteen mesh . . . loaded into them vats . . . tw o hundred and fifty tons of ore, mind you, an d leached in cyanide . . . strength of the solutio n is . . . to the ton of water . . . damn good thing w e got water . . . right now the average tenor's thirt y dollars to the ton and mister, that's pay dirt!"
It was the first and last time Tindal had visited the mine--"The Big Beverly," they'd called it--fo r months later the tenor dropped to two dollars an d fifty cents a ton and from then on it was not wort h working.
The shack he was in right now-GCo
He remembered looking up the slope, up past the cyanide vats and the crushing mill, to the left an d even higher than the main shaft scaffolding, an d seeing the shack perched on a ledge that was almos t halfway up the escarpment. Just sandstone abov e it; long, towering pinnacles of sandstone.
And Butler saying--". . . why would anybody want to build a shack way up there? Man, that's where the assaying is done. See those two dar k spots on either side of the shack . . . the origina l mine shafts . . . in the shack they got shelves on th e walls and bags of concentrates are stored there t o be tested . . . you don't want to go up there . . . n othing to see . . ."
And there's nothing to see looking down from there, Tindal thought now. My God, it's funn y what you can remember from even a long time ago.
About fifteen years . . . but last week is a long time ago, too. It's how you look at it.
Last week-GCo
Earl Beaudry coming into the store and saying that he'd seen Phil Sundeen and that Phil wanted t o talk to them. Why in hell had Earl and George bee n so eager to stick their noses in another man's business! Sundeen's run-off cows were his own worry.
My God, a man can change!
He was thinking of Phil Sundeen then, comparing how he was before with what he was like now.
The difference was in Tindal's mind.
He had looked up to Phil Sundeen as everyone did, because Phil was an important man. He had always laughed when Phil started to cut up. When Phil did something that was genuinely funny, Tindal's eyes would water as he laughed and he would feel closer to Phil then, laughing without having t o pretend that he was laughing. Those were the time s when Tindal would feel justified for all the excuse s he continually made for Phil, and the defendin g him to Milmary, who said he was a rowdy an d wouldn't have anything to do with him. "Mil, a man of his stature is entitled to be a little eccentric." "Eccentric! Riding his horse into people's living rooms! Thinking he can do anything he please s just because he owns a few cows!" "A few thousand." "I don't care how many!" "He's young yet, that's all." "Well, it's about time he grew up!"
He had even made an excuse for Milmary: you can't tell a woman anything. But always in the bac k of his mind was the hope that someday Milmar y would change her attitude and marry Phil. Marrying into the biggest spread in Pima County! For some things it was worth being a little extra nice.
Hell, it didn't require much more of an effort. But, my God, the times when you had to laugh and i t wasn't funny-GCo Everything in life isn't a bed of roses. It's just good business to put up with a few minor displeasures in order to make a profit in the end. Once in a while he would view his association with Phil Sundeen this way. Most often though, he would simply justify their association by making excuses fo r Phil's character. Either way Tindal kept his conscience clean and his pride intact. Doubts did not count.
But now-GCo
Suddenly inside of only a few days there was nothing to gain and everything to lose and he coul d no longer make excuses for Phil Sundeen. He sa w Phil as he actually was, the way Milmary had described him: a rowdy who thinks he can do anything he pleases. He blamed Beaudry and Stedma n for getting him into this, but far less than h e blamed, and hated, Sundeen now. It would com e into his mind: Why can't we just start all over. No , not start over, but go back to the way it was and I s wear to God I won't have anything to do wit h him. The two Mexicans were caught stealing . . . h ell, that part's all right. But everything that happened after, Sundeen did. I got no cause to be hiding out. I haven't done anything! And the son of a bitch just sits there like God smoking a cigarette!
He glanced from the window to Sundeen, who was lounging in the open doorway, his back agains t one side and a booted leg propped up on the othe r knee. George Stedman was sitting cross-legge d against the opposite wall. Stedman's head wa s down and he was staring at his hands, lookin g closely at his fingernails clenched against the palm , then with the thumb of the other hand he woul d work at the dirt wedged beneath the nails.
"Phil."
Sundeen did not look up. He was studying his cigarette, watching the smoke curling from the ti p of it.
"Phil," Tindal said again. "Why don't we just go back home and see what happens?" Trying to kee p his voice mild it sounded shaky and nervous.
Sundeen's eyes remained on the cigarette, but he said, "I told you to quit that talk."
"We can't stay forever."
"Why not?"
"Phil, we got rights. We don't have to stay out here like hunted animals."
"We do if I say we do."
"You're not being reasonable!"
"Nothing says I have to."
Tindal calmed himself. Getting excited wasn't going to help. "What about your cattle?"
"What about them?"
"You'd let your ranch go just because of this?"
"They know how to graze without my help."
"They'll be scattered all over the territory!"
"Then I'll hire me some men to bring them back."
"When?"
"When I get ready."
"Phil, here's the thing. If we give ourselves up, then Finnerty will let us off for coming in on ou r own accord."
"Who says so?"
"It stands to reason."
Sundeen looked up now, faintly grinning. "R. D., you old son of a bitch, you telling me we'r e wrong?"
"I'm facing the facts!"
"Facts don't mean a thing."
"They do when you're faced with them!"
Sundeen's glance went down the slope. "I don't see 'em facing me." He looked at Stedman then.
"George, you got any facts facing you?"
Stedman's head jerked up. "What?"
"Phil--"
Sundeen cut him off. "R. D., you're a sad-looking old son of a bitch, but if you don't shut up I'm going to put you out of your misery."
Sundeen stood up stretching, then walked outside and away from the doorway.
Now he's going to look at th
e horses, Tindal thought. They were kept saddled in one of the ol d mine shafts that was on the ledge with the assa y shack.
He doesn't worry about a solitary thing. Just piddles around like he was at home looking fo r some trouble to get into. You can see he's restless , but he puts on the act he's having a good time . . . l ike a spoiled kid who's got to have his own wa y and even when he's wrong won't admit it. Hell , that's what he is, a snot-nosed kid, who shoul d have had his ass kicked a long time ago.
He glanced at Stedman, then leaned head and shoulders out of the window and looked both way s along the ledge. Sundeen was not in sight.
"George."
Stedman's head lifted and he looked at Tindal almost angrily. "What do you want?"
Tindal glanced at the doorway, then moved closer to Stedman. "George, there must be a wa y out of this."
"You knew the way in," Stedman said, "you ought to know the way out."
"Me!"
"Who the hell else!"
"Now wait a minute, George. It was you and Earl who got me to talk to Sundeen."
Stedman's eyes narrowed and he said angrily, "You got a short goddamn memory is all I can say."
"You think I'm enjoying this!"
"I don't know why not. Finally you're in something with Phil Sundeen."
"Keep your voice down."
"You don't want him to hear you talking behind his back."
"George, make sense."
"Always shining up to him--"
"Don't talk so loud!"
"Always ready to kiss his hind end any time he bends over."
Tindal shook his head wearily. What was the sense of talking to him.
"Listen." Stedman lowered his voice and the sound of it seemed edged with a threat. "I'm gettin g out of here. I'm not taking any more off of him; n o more of this goddamn obeying orders like we wer e his hired hands. I'm waiting for the chance an d soon as it shows, I'm getting out. You can stay married to the son of a bitch if you want, but I've got a stomach full of him. A man can stand just so much.
You wouldn't know about that, would you?"
"What do you mean--"
"Just stay out of my way from now on!"
Tindal felt his temper rise and he was about to curse Stedman and tell him to . . . to do something!
But he was too enraged to speak. He turned his back on Stedman and returned to the window.
Imagine him saying that to me. Of all the goddamn spineless, yellow--Tindal gritted his teeth.
He'll be sorry. Manager of a bank--If any two-bit illegitimate idiot couldn't be manager of a branc h bank! Well, we'll see. We'll get home and see ho w much business Mr. George S. O. B. Stedman gets after this.
He's so panicky he doesn't even know who to trust. Blames me! He's as bad as Phil. Every bit a s crazy!
Like that business with Jordan.
We're not bad off enough, Phil has to get in an argument with Jordan and Jordan leaves. Jorda n said it was pointless to come back this way and b e hunted like animals--the only one who had anything to say that made sense!
But suddenly Tindal stopped. What was he thinking of? He was reasoning to the point tha t they needed Jordan here. But Jordan wasn't one o f them. Jordan was a gunman, a wanted outlaw, ye t he had been wishing Jordan were here; missing th e secure feeling of having him with them.
My God . . . I think I'm going crazy!
He slumped against the wall and wiped his face with his bandanna. Just take it easy. You've gotte n along for forty-five years using your head. Jus t calm down. Keep your eyes and ears open, you'l l make out all right. He looked across the room a t Stedman. George can go take a running jump t o hell . . . and take Phil with him.
He had made himself become calm and now he sucked at his teeth, the first time he had done this i n five days.
Sundeen appeared in the doorway, unexpectedly, and Tindal felt himself straighten against the wall.
Sundeen hesitated, looking from Tindal to Stedman, then said, as if reluctantly, "They're coming."
"Where!" Stedman was scrambling to his feet as he said it.
"Just stay where you are!" Sundeen was inside the doorway now looking past the frame. He wa s silent, then said, "They're coming up the road, jus t entering the canyon."
Stedman moved toward the window and Sundeen snapped, "I said stay where you are!"
Against the wall next to the window, Tindal could see them now straggling in almost single file.
The first ones were reaching the company buildings now.
He heard Sundeen go over to the shelf along this side wall where his blankets were and slip his rifl e out from between them.
Then another sound-GCo
He looked back to see Stedman reaching the door and going out, stumbling as he started dow n the slope, then regaining his feet and running, sliding in the loose sand, shouting something to the men below--In the directly above them sunlight of noon they entered the widening in the canyon that was the site of the mine. Frye and Danaher rode side by side a dozen lengths behind Merl White. The others wer e strung out behind them. Farther back, where ther e had been rock slides, the canyon was narrow an d they had thinned out single file to pass through an d had not closed up again before reaching the mine.
The day before they had followed the tracks up the canyon and spent the night a mile below th e mine site. But before dark Merl had gone on alon e to study the deserted building through Danaher's glasses. Just before dark closed in he saw the figur e up by the assay shack. That was it. They woul d wait until morning to go in. It was Danaher wh o added that they would also wait for Frye. It wa s Frye's party.
Frye saw Merl White dismount in front of one of the company buildings and tie his reins to one o f the support posts beneath the veranda. They can't be too close, Frye thought. His eyes moved acros s the open area to the mine works, then lifted to th e sandstone escarpment high above. He thought: Where would you hide?
"John, where are they?"
Danaher nodded, looking up the slope. "That shack way up there. They used to use it for assaying."
"I was wondering about us just walking in."
"We're out of range."
"Unless Phil's a dead-eye."
"Three hundred yards is long for anybody."
"Maybe they sneaked out during the night,"
Frye said.
"Merl was here with the sun this morning,"
Danaher answered. "He saw movement up by the shack."
Merl White had the glasses to his eyes, now standing at the edge of the veranda shade studyin g the assay shack. They were up there and they migh t as well realize they were trapped. Maybe the y would give themselves up and nobody would b e hurt. Maybe. The trouble was you could not coun t on Sundeen to use reason.
"Look!" Merl shouted it without taking the glasses from his eyes. "Coming out of the shack!"
They could not see him at first, not until he came off the ledge and started down, a dark spec k against the sand-colored slope, then dust rising in a cloud behind him. They saw him roll and slide hea d first and for a moment he was hidden by the dust.
Then, on his feet again, running, pumping his legs to keep up with his momentum.
A rifle shot cracked in the stillness and echoed thinly in the wide canyon. Then another and another and puffs of sand chased the running figure down the slope.
Three shots before the men below had their rifles out of saddle boots, before they were scattering bu t moving their horses toward the slope to return th e fire--aiming at the shack to cover the man comin g down.
Then he was past the cyanide vats, swerving to find cover behind the massive structure, and the firing stopped.
Frye's men walked their horses back toward the company building where Frye and Danaher stoo d with Merl White as the man came across the ope n area toward them--every few steps looking bac k over his shoulder, up toward the assay shack.
Then as he became aware of the silent, grimfaced men waiting for him, he seemed to hesitate, walk
ing more slowly now and he began to brush th e sand from his clothes. He was breathing heavily an d his face, gray with dust, bore a pained expression.
"I'm giving myself up," Stedman gasped.
No one spoke.
His eyes, suddenly wide open, went over the line of men, hesitating on Haig Hanasian before the y came to rest on Frye.
"Kirby, I've wanted to give myself up . . . I c ouldn't with that madman!" He looked at Danaher, then back to Frye, waiting for one of them to speak. "I pleaded with him . . . I said, 'Phil, let's g o on home and face up to it.' I tried everything humanly possible, but he'd just grin or else start cursing and there was nothing I could do about it."
Frye stepped toward him. "That's all right, Mr.
Stedman." He opened Stedman's coat almost gently and saw that he was not armed. "You come on in here," Frye said, taking his arm, "in the shade an d sit down."
"Kirby," Stedman murmured, "the man's crazy."
Frye nodded leading him by the arm under the veranda. "How many are up there now, Mr. Stedman, just the two of them?"
"Phil and R. D."
"How's Mr. Tindal doing?"
Stedman hesitated, but he said, "He's all right."
"Did Phil harm either of you?"
"He like to drove us out of our mind." Stedman was perspiring and his fingers pulled at his colla r loosening it.
"Did he harm you?"
"Not like you probably mean."
"Or Mr. Tindal?"
"No . . . but you never know what he'll do. He picked a fight with Jordan. But Jordan had a gun.
He wouldn't take any of Phil's airs and he left."
Stedman added almost grudgingly, "He was smart to get out while he could."
Frye nodded, "Yes sir," and asked, "how are Phil's supplies?"
"Water and food for two days. No, that was for three of us. They could make what they have g o four or five days if they had to."
"You said Mr. Tindal's all right?"