Digo said in Spanish, "You feel you are much man, don't you?"
"Not for long," the man answered, also in Spanish.
"It's too bad this has to happen to you."
The Mexican shrugged.
"Does your companion wish a cigarette?"
"Ask him."
Digo smiled. "He looks already in another world."
Barely above a whisper the younger one was reciting, ". . . Santificado sea el tu nombre, venga a nos el tu reino . . ."
Digo grinned at him and said, "Remember to have perfect contrition."
The older Mexican said suddenly, "Do this quickly and stop talking!"
Now Digo shrugged. "As you say."
They lifted the Mexicans to the bare backs of the horses and now no one in the crowd spoke. In th e silence, Digo mounted. He kneed his horse in a tight circle between the two Mexicans, reached u p and adjusted the loop over the older Mexican's head and tightened the honda at the nape of hi s neck. The younger one tried to move his hea d away, but Digo's hand clamped over his jaw an d held the head still until he dropped the noose over i t and tightened the knot.
Now he moved out behind them and dismounted. Still there was silence and he took his time, with everyone watching him, walking u p close behind the two horses. In front, an openin g had been cleared to let the horses run.
Digo waited for a signal, but none came. So it was up to him. All right. He raised both hands i n the air, said, "Go in peace--" and brought hi s hands down slapping the rumps of the horses.
They swung out, then back toward him on the ropes and turning, jumping aside, Digo could hea r the horses breaking away down the street. Th e bodies jerked on the tight lines, but only for part o f a minute. He heard Tindal say, "My God, look a t their pants--"
Someone else said, "I don't feel very good."
And it was over---
Kirby Frye rode in shortly before nine o'clock.
He tied his dun gelding in front of the jail and started for the front steps, but at the walk h e thought: A few more minutes won't matter t o Harold. He turned and crossed the street, walkin g slowly with the stiffness of all day in the saddle. He was hungry, he felt the taste for a glass of beer an d he was anxious to see Milmary Tindal; all thre e were before him and he didn't know which to d o first.
It felt good to walk and he was thinking how good the beer would taste. Sit down and stretc h your legs, even before washing up, take the firs t glass and drink it better than half right down , though it burns your throat. Then sip what's left.
Smoke a cigarette and drink the beer slow. Then have another one and sip that.
De Spain's windows, above the painted lower half, showed every lamp up to full brightness. Fry e opened the door. But he closed it again and wen t on. Smoke and noise and he didn't feel that muc h like having to make conversation in a Saturda y night crowd. The Metropolitan was still open, an d a few doors down he saw light coming from Tindal's store. Well, he could always see Mil at home if she closed the store; but if the cafe closed-GCo He opened the door of the Metropolitan and almost bumped into the cook who was coming out.
"Too late, Ed?"
"Hello, Kirby. Too late for me."
"Can I get something?"
"Sure, Edith's still there."
"I'm starvin'."
"You get them drunk Indins?"
"All of a sudden they disappeared."
"Ain't that the way. Well . . . Edith'll fix you something. I got catchin' up to do."
"Thanks, Ed."
The cafe was empty. The counter was clean and most of the tables had been cleared, all but two tha t were near the front and still cluttered with suppe r dishes. With the emptiness was silence. Fry e walked back toward the kitchen, hearing his step s and the metallic ching of his spurs which seeme d louder because they were the only sounds in th e room.
Nearing the open doorway to the kitchen a voice said softly, "Phil?"
Frye hesitated, then went into the kitchen, looking to the left. Edith Hanasian, Haig's wife, was sit-50 t ing at the table against the wall with a cup of coffee in front of her.
"It's me."
"Oh." She looked at Frye with surprise.
"I wondered if I could get a bite."
"Of what, Kirby?"
"Whatever might be on the stove."
"You look tired."
"Been working all day."
"Would you like a drink?"
"That'd be fine."
"Sit down then."
Frye moved to the table. "Where's Mr. Hanasian?"
The woman shrugged. "I don't know."
"You want me to sit out front or here?"
Edith smiled. "If he didn't trust the deputy, who would he trust?"
"I just didn't know where you wanted me to sit."
"Here. Then I won't have so many steps."
Frye pulled out the chair opposite to Edith and sat down. "The coffee smells good."
"Would you rather have that?"
"I just said it smelled good."
The woman rose. She went to a cupboard and returned with an almost-full whisky bottle, picking up a glass from the serving table as she did. Sh e placed the glass in front of him and poured whisk y into it.
"Whoa--"
"You're a big boy now."
"I'm not that big." He drank some of the whisky and putting the glass down felt Edith move aroun d next to him. She took his hat off and sailed it ove r to the serving table.
"I've had that on so long I forgot it was there."
"You look younger without it."
"Do I?"
She moved her fingers over his sand-colored hair.
"Sometimes you look like a little boy," she said quietly.
"Do I look like a hungry one?"
She moved away, as if reluctantly. "What do you want?"
"I don't care."
"Enchiladas are still warm."
"Fine."
She went over to the stove, then looked back at him. "Or lamb stew?"
"All right. Stew."
"You're easy to please."
She placed a heaping plate of the stew in front of him, brought salt and bread, then sat dow n again.
"Tastes good."
"Does it?" She was leaning forward now with her elbows on the table, watching him eat. He glanced at her and the way she was leaning h e could see the beginning of the hollow between he r breasts. She was an attractive woman, not mor e than a year past thirty, but she smiled little. I t showed in the way her mouth was set and in th e eyes that seemed indifferent to whatever the y looked at. Probably in another few years she woul d be fat. Now, there was only the hint of it, a pleasin g softness that would become too soft.
"Where'd you say your husband was?"
"I said I didn't know."
"That's right." He ate the stew, pushing it onto the fork with a piece of bread, dabbing the bread i n the gravy and eating that. When he was finished h e wiped the plate clean this way.
"More?" Edith asked.
Frye looked at her still leaning close to the table.
Then he began rolling a cigarette. "I wouldn't mind a cup of coffee . . . though I hate to ask you t o move."
Edith smiled, still not moving. "Sometimes the little boy in you begins to disappear."
"Do you want me to get it?"
She rose then. "You're paying for it."
He watched her go to the stove and come back with the coffeepot.
"I thought eating in the kitchen like this I was a guest."
She poured them each a cup and sat down, but now she sat sideways in the chair, leaning agains t the wall, looking from the ceiling to the stove and a t nothing in particular, not bothering to answer him.
"Business slow?"
Edith shrugged indifferently. "It's all right."
"You generally do better than this on Saturday, don't you?"
"Everybody's next door, celebrating."
"Celebrating what?"
"Their manhood."<
br />
"What?"
Edith looked at him. "Didn't you hear what happened?"
"I just got back."
"Go next door; you'll find out."
Frye shrugged. He wasn't going to beg her. He finished his coffee, stubbed out the cigarette on th e plate and stood up. He was tall, but with a bigboned leanness, and he looked younger than twenty-four. "Maybe I will," he said. Then, "If I se e Phil, you want me to tell him you're here?"
Edith hesitated, studying Frye's face. "Why would I want that?"
"You thought I was him when I came in."
"Don't jump to any conclusions."
"Wouldn't think of it. How much do I owe?"
"Thirty cents."
He felt inside his pants pockets. "I'll pay you tomorrow, all right?" He grinned. "I guess I didn't bring any money."
Edith shook her head. "Then the little boy comes back again."
Frye was smiling. "That's no way to talk to the deputy sheriff."
He went out the front door and stopped on the plank sidewalk to make another cigarette. Th e noise inside De Spain's would go on until late, dying out slowly, then the street would be quiet again.
It had been quiet last night when he left. Friday night was usually quiet. He lighted the cigarette , looking across the street to the jail. Quiet as a church. He heard laughter from De Spain's.
Edith said they were celebrating-GCo
She thought I was Phil Sundeen when I came in.
That's it. Sundeen's back from his drive and his men are celebrating. Probably been at it since earl y this morning. Sitting in there all day drinking.
He shook his head faintly remembering this morning, miles away chasing like hell after nothing. His eyes went to the jail again. Harold would be asleep now, sitting up with his feet on the desk.
But Edith said something happened. Not just that they were celebrating, but that somethin g happened-GCo Let it wait.
He flicked the cigarette into the street and moved away from the cafe.
Milmary Tindal was locking the front door of the store when he came up behind her. She hear d the footsteps, then heard the footsteps stop and sh e turned coming around hesitantly, keeping her fac e composed, then her features relaxed suddenly an d she smiled with relief.
"Kirby! You scared--"
Holding her shoulders he kissed her unexpectedly, his lips making a smacking sound against hers.
"Kirby!"
"Too loud?"
"Right out on the street--"
"You look good, Mil."
She brushed a wisp of hair back from her fore head. "I'm a mess."
"You going home?"
The girl nodded, looking up at him. "When did you get back?"
"Just a few minutes ago."
"Did you catch them?"
"This afternoon they made it over the border."
"Daddy was sure you'd get them." They started walking along the adobe fronts, hearing behin d them faint sounds from De Spain's. Ahead were th e shadowy forms of men sitting in front of the buildings, now and then a cigarette glow in the darkness, and passing them--"Good evening--"
"You get 'em, Kirby?"
"No, sir. They got away."
"That's too bad."
Nearer the end of the street the adobe fronts were deserted and now there was only the sound o f their steps hollow on the plank sidewalk, and ou t behind the adobes and in the yard of the livery stable they could hear crickets.
"It's a nice night," he said.
The girl was walking with her head down watching her steps and did not answer. Standing straight she would come just past Frye's shoulder. Now sh e seemed smaller. Her figure was slight, almost boyish, but her face was delicately feminine: dark, almost black hair combed back from her face and small features softly pale in the darkness. The y turned the corner and started up the low sweepin g hill, seeing the lights farther up. They flickered i n an uneven row through the trees indicating at leas t five or six houses.
"What's the matter?"
"Nothing," the girl said.
"You're not talking."
"Well, I'm tired. That's all."
"How's your father?"
She looked up at him suddenly. "He's fine."
"What're you so jumpy about?"
"Well, why're you asking me so many questions?"
"All day long I've been talking to a horse."
"I'm sorry."
"Has he said any more about you marrying Sundeen?"
"Of course not. I thought that was settled."
He said quietly, "I hope so."
Their footsteps were muffled and Frye's spurs chinged softly. Abruptly Milmary said, "I suppos e you heard all about what happened today." In th e darkness her voice seemed natural.
"You sound like Edith."
"You were with her?"
"All we talked about was supper."
"She didn't tell you?"
"Uh-uh."
"Well, there was a trial today."
"A trial?"
"Our town's first legal court action."
He was frowning. "The county judge was down here?"
Almost defensively she said, "We have our own judge and prosecuting attorney," and went o n quickly now as if to tell it and get it over with. "Th e Citizens Committee met this morning and elected a city judge and a city prosecuting attorney."
"They don't have the--"
"Let me finish. Mr. Stedman was elected judge and my father, prosecutor. It was done legally, b y vote of the Citizens Committee, and they represen t all of the people here."
"You sound like your father."
"Will you please have the courtesy to let me finish?"
"Go on."
Her face was flushed now looking at Frye, who for a moment had smiled, but was now frownin g again. "After the elections they decided to hold th e first court session and they tried the two cattl e thieves you've been holding. Phil Sundeen wa s made to testify even though everybody knew thos e two men were the ones. You said yourself yo u caught them driving off the cattle. So they wer e found guilty."
"Then what?"
Milmary hesitated. "Then they were taken out and legally hanged."
Frye was silent.
"The men felt, why should they wait for a court way up at Tucson to get good and ready befor e something's done. Our citizens are just a s qualified . . . more so even, since it was one of ou r people whose stock was stolen."
"Your father explained all this?"
"Of course he explained it to me, I'm not a lawyer."
"Neither is he."
"He's got common sense!"
"Mil, you can't just set up a court any place you want. We're part of the county, protected by th e county. Maybe we should have a judge and a prose cutor here, but to get them would take some doin g up at Tucson, not just a self-made committee deciding in one morning."
"Kirby, those two men were guilty. You caught them yourself," she said pleadingly.
"But you can't set up the law after the wrong's done. You got to have the authority before. I eve n know that much."
"I suppose my father and Mr. Stedman aren't as intelligent as those people up at Tucson?"
"Now you're talking like a woman."
"What do you want me to talk like?"
Frye said quietly, "The point is, the law is already established to handle things like this. Everybody's agreed to it, so you can't just come along and set up your own law."
"Even if it's something we should have had a long time ago?"
She's using her father's words, Frye thought. And she wants to believe them. He said, "Where di d they hang them?"
Milmary hesitated. "At the livery."
"Did you see it?"
"Part of it."
"A big crowd?"
"Of course."
"Was Harold Mendez there?"
"I didn't see him."
Frye said, "They were taken from the jail, marched down to the livery and hanged. Just lik e that?"
&
nbsp; "I didn't see all of it."
"Did the part you see look fair?"
"I don't suppose a hanging would ever look fair.
You're using the wrong word."
"What's a better word?"
"Kirby, use some sense! They were tried by competent men and found guilty. Now it's over."
They started to walk again, slowly, and did not speak for a few minutes. Nearing the house, Fry e said, "Is your father home?"
"He said he wouldn't be home till late. Kirby, what can you do about it now?"
"I don't know."
"It's over now."
"Part of it is."
Milmary said, wearily, "If you don't understand, there's no use talking about it."
"Maybe your dad can explain it to me."
Milmary did not answer. She went up the porch steps and into the house.
Harold Mendez could feel that his nose was still swollen. Now he was touching it gently, as he ha d been doing all afternoon and evening, still not sur e whether or not it was broken, when Frye opene d the door.
"I saw you tie up a while ago," Harold said, "but by the time I got to the door you were acros s the street."
"I was hungry."
"Did you get them?"
"No."
"Well--"
"Everybody's more concerned with whether we got those tulapai drinkers than with what happened right here."
"You heard then."
"Milmary told me. Where're the bodies?"
"We took them down. There were two men here from La Noria who helped me. No one else I aske d would."
"Did you try to stop them?"
Harold shook his head slowly. "I couldn't see any point to it. Even if I'd tried, they still woul d have hung them." His fingers touched his nose.
"It looks like you told somebody no," Frye said.
"Digo was showing his authority. Do you think it's broken?"
Frye looked at Harold's nose closely, feeling the bridge of it with his finger. "I don't think so."
"They came in like a flood once it started. At first only a few were doing anything. Tindal, Beaudry , Stedman . . . and Sundeen. But once it started yo u would have thought everybody in town was i n here."
"The place looks all right."
"They didn't break anything. I don't know why, but they didn't break anything."
Frye said suddenly, "What about Dandy Jim?"
"He's still upstairs. How long are you going to hold him?"
"I don't know. It was out of their way to come back here, so they went straight to Huachuca.