"Barney, give Lyall here a scattergun and tell him what to do," and Bohannon was gone.
Lyall Quinlan sat up all night watching Bobby Valdez. That is, most of the time he sat in the cane-bottom chair--it was in the hallway facing the one cell they had upstairs--he was keeping his eyes on Valdez, who hardly paid him any attention. Whenever Lyall would start to get sleepy, he'd get up, crook the sawed-off scattergun under his arm, and pace up and down in the short hallway.
The first time he did it, Bobby Valdez, who was lying on his back with his eyes closed, opened them, turned his head enough to see Lyall, and told him to shut up. It was his boots making the noise. But Lyall went right on walking up and down. Valdez called on one of the men saints then and asked him why did all keepers of jails wear squeaky boots? The lamp hanging out in the hall didn't seem to bother him, only Lyall's boots.
When Lyall kept on walking, the Mexican said something else, half smiling--a low-voiced string of soft-spoken Spanish.
Lyall edged closer to the cell and said through the heavy iron bars, "Hush up!"
Valdez went to sleep right after that and Lyall sat in the chair again, feeling pretty good, not so tense anymore.
Let him try something, Lyall thought, watching the sleeping Mexican, feeling the shotgun across his lap. I'd blast him before he got through the door. He practice-swung the gun around. Cut him right in half. Boy, it was heavy. Only about fifteen inches of barrel left and really heavy. Imagine what that'd do to a man!
He kept watching the sleeping man, his eyes going from the high black boots to the lavender shirt and the dark face, the composed, softfeatured dark face.
How can he sleep? Next Saturday he's going to swing from the end of a rope and he's laying there sleeping. Well, some people are built different. If he wasn't different he wouldn't be in that cell. But he ain't more'n a year older than I am. How could he have already done so much in his life? And killed the men he has? Two at White Sands, one in Mesilla. Tanner. Lyall's thumb went over the tips of his fingers.
That's four. Then two more way over to Pima County. At least six, though some claim nine and ten. And Elodie thrilled to death because she served him his dinner the night he shot Tanner. They say he was something with the girls--which about proves that they don't use their heads for much more than a place to grow hair.
Well, he just better not try to come out of that cell. About a minute later Lyall went over and jiggled the door to make sure it was still locked.
Barney Groom came up when it was daylight, and seeing Lyall just sitting there he blinked like he couldn't believe what his eyes told him.
"You awake?"
Lyall rose. "Of course."
"Son, you mean you've been awake all night?"
"I thought I was hired to watch this prisoner."
Old Barney Groom shook his head.
"What's the matter?"
"Nothin'," Barney said. Then, "Bohannon's downstairs."
Lyall said, "He want to see me?"
"When you go out he won't be able to help it," said Barney.
"Well, and when should I come back?"
"I ain't the timekeeper. Ask Bohannon about that."
They heard footsteps on the stairs and then Bohannon was in the hallway, yawning, scratching his shirtfront.
Barney Groom said, "Ed, this boy stayed awake all night!"
Bohannon stopped scratching, though he didn't drop his hand. He looked at Lyall Quinlan, who nodded and said, "Mr. Bohannon."
The marshal squinted in the dim light. It was plain he'd been drinking, the way his eyes looked filmy, though he stood there with his feet planted and didn't sway a bit. Finally he said, "You don't say!" "All night," Barney Groom said.
Bohannon looked at him. "How would you know?"
"He was awake when I come up."
Bohannon said nothing.
"Mr. Bohannon," Lyall said, "I didn't go to sleep."
"Maybe you did and maybe you did not."
Bobby Valdez had been watching them. Now he swung his legs off the bunk. He stood up and moved toward the bars. "He's telling the truth," the Mexican said.
Bohannon put his cold eyes on Valdez for a moment, then looked back at Lyall Quinlan.
Valdez shrugged. "It don't make any difference to me," he said. "But make him grease his boots if he's going to walk all night."
Barney Groom moved a step toward the cell as if threatening Valdez. "You got any more requests?"
"Yes," the Mexican said right away. "I want to go to church."
"What?" Barney Groom said, then was embarrassed for having looked like he'd taken the Mexican seriously, and added, "Sure. I'll send the carriage around."
Valdez looked at him without expression. "This is Sunday."
Bohannon was squinting and half smiling. "Any special denomination, Brother Valdez?"
"Listen, man," Valdez said, "this is Sunday, and I have to go to mass."
Bohannon asked, "You go to mass every Sunday?"
"I've missed some."
Bohannon, with the half smile, went on studying him. Then he said, "Tell you what. We'll douse you with a bucket of holy water instead."
Bohannon and Groom left right after that. Lyall was to stay until one or the other came back from breakfast.
When he was alone again, Lyall looked at Valdez sitting on the bunk. Even after the words were ready he waited a good ten minutes before saying them. "The nearest church is down to White Sands," he told Valdez. "You can't blame the marshal for not wanting to ride you all the way down there."
Valdez looked up.
"It's so far," Lyall Quinlan said. He looked toward the window at the end of the hallway, then back to Valdez. "I appreciate you telling the marshal I was awake all night. I think something like that sets pretty good with him."
Bobby Valdez looked at Lyall curiously. Then his expression softened to a smile, as if he'd suddenly become aware of a new interest, and he said, "Anytime, friend."
When Bohannon came back he sent Lyall across the street to the Regent to get Valdez's breakfast. After he'd given the tray to Valdez, Bohannon deputized him, but mentioned how it was a temporary appointment until the Citizens Committee passed on it. "Now, if you was to keep an extra-special eye on Brother Valdez, I'd have to recommend you as fit, wouldn't I?" He patted Lyall's shoulder and said now was as good a time as any to start the new appointment. "We'll see how you handle yourself alone."
Lyall thought it was a funny way to do things, but he'd have plenty of time for sleep later on. When opportunity knocks on the door you got to open it, he told himself. So he stayed on at the jail, sitting downstairs this time, until midafternoon when Bohannon came back.
"Now get yourself some shut-eye, boy," the marshal told him "so you'll be in fit shape for tonight."
Lyall's mother told him they were making a fool out of him, but Lyall didn't have time to argue. He just said this was what he always wanted to do--a hell of a lot better than working behind a store counter, though he didn't use quite those words. Lyall's mother used mother arguments, but finally there was nothing she could do but shake her head and let him go to bed.
HE WENT BACK on duty at nine, sitting in the cane-bottom chair, not hearing a sound from Barney Groom downstairs. Bobby Valdez was more talkative. He talked about horses and girls and the terrible fact that he hadn't gotten to church that day; then made a big to-do admiring Lyall for the way he could go so long without sleep. That was fine. But pretty soon Bobby Valdez went to sleep and that night Lyall walked up and down the little hallway even more than he had the first night. Two or three times he almost went to sleep, but he kept moving and blinking his eyes. He found a way of propping the shotgun between his leg and the chair arm, so that the trigger guard dug into his thigh and that kept him awake whenever he sat down to rest.
In the morning Bohannon came up the stairs quietly, but Lyall heard him and said, "Hi, Mr. Bohannon," when the marshal tiptoed in.
Lyall slept all day Monday and after that h
e was all right, not having any trouble keeping awake that night. Bobby Valdez talked to him until late and that helped.
Tuesday he ate his supper at the Regent Cafe before going to work.
He mentioned weather to Elodie and how the food was getting better, but didn't once refer to the silver deputy star on his shirtfront. Elodie tried to be unconcerned, too, but finally she just had to ask him, and Lyall answered, "Why, sure, Elodie, I've been a deputy marshal since last Saturday. Didn't you know that?"
Elodie had to describe how Bobby Valdez came in for dinner the night he shot Tanner. "He sat right on that very stool you're on and ate tacos like he didn't have a worry in the world. Real calm."
Lyall said, "Uh-huh, but he's kind of a little squirt, ain't he?" and walked out casually, knowing Elodie was watching after him with her mouth open.
TUESDAY NIGHT Valdez told Lyall how his being in the cell had all come about--how he'd started out an honest vaquero down in Sonora, but got mixed up with some unprincipled men who were chousing other people's cows. Bobby Valdez said, by the name of a saint, he didn't know anything about it, but the next thing the rurales were chasing him across the border. About a year later, in Contention, Arizona, he killed a man. It was in self-defense and he was acquitted; but the man had a friend, so he ended up killing the friend too. And after that it was just one thing leading to another. Everybody seemed to take him wrong . . . couldn't get an honest job . . . so what was a young man supposed to do?
The way he described it made Lyall Quinlan shake his head and say it was a shame.
Wednesday night Bobby Valdez only nodded to Lyall when he came on duty. The Mexican was sitting on the edge of the bunk, elbows on his knees, staring at his hands as he washed them together absently.
He's finally realizing he's going to die, Lyall thought. You have to leave a man alone when he's doing that. So for over an hour no one spoke.
When Lyall did speak it was because he wanted to make it little easier for Valdez. He said, "All people have to die. That's the best way to look at it."
Valdez looked up, then nodded thoughtfully.
"You got to look at it," Lyall went on, "like, well, just something that happens to everybody."
"I've done that," the Mexican said. "What torments me now is that I have not confessed."
"You didn't have to," Lyall said. "Judge Metairie found out the facts without you confessing."
"No, I mean to a priest."
"Oh."
"It is a terrible thing to die without absolution."
"Oh."
It was quiet then, Lyall frowning, the Mexican looking at his hands.
But suddenly Bobby Valdez looked up, his face brightening, and he said, as if it had just occurred to him, "My friend, would you bring a priest to me?"
"Well--I'll tell Mr. Bohannon in the morning. I'm sure he'll--"
"No!" Valdez stood up quickly. "I cannot take the chance of letting him know!" His voice calmed as he said, "You know how he makes fun of things spiritual--that about the holy water, and calling me 'Brother.'
What if he should refuse this request? Then I would die in the state of mortal sin just because he does not understand. My friend," he said just above a whisper, "surely you can see that he must not know."
"Well--" Lyall said. "In White Sands," Valdez said quickly, "there is a man called Sixto Henriquez who knows the priest well. At the mescal shop they'll tell you where he lives. Now, all you would have to do is tell Sixto to send the priest late Friday night after it is very quiet, and then it will be accomplished."
Lyall hesitated.
"Then," Valdez said solemnly, "I would not die in sin."
Lyall thought about it some more and finally he nodded.
He woke up at noon for the ride to White Sands. He'd have to hurry to be back in time to go on duty; but he would have hurried anyway because he didn't feel right about what he was doing, as if it was something sneaky. At the mescal shop the proprietor directed him, in as few words as were necessary, to the adobe of Sixto Henriquez. Lyall was half afraid and half hoping Sixto wouldn't be home. But there he was, a thin little man in a striped shirt who didn't open the door all the way until Lyall mentioned Valdez.
After Lyall had told why he was there, Henriquez took his time rolling a cigarette. He lit it and blew out smoke and then said, "All right."
Lyall rode back to Tularosa feeling a lot better. That hadn't been hard at all.
When he went on duty that night he said to Bobby Valdez, "You're all set," and would just as soon have let it go at that, but Valdez insisted that he tell him everything. He told him. There wasn't much to it--how the man just said, "All right." But Valdez seemed to be satisfied.
Friday morning Lyall stopped at the Regent Cafe for his breakfast.
Elodie was serving the counter. She was frowning and muttering about being switched to mornings just the day before Bobby Valdez's hanging.
Lyall told her, "A nice girl like you don't want to see a hanging."
"It's the principle of it," she pouted. The principle being everybody in Tularosa was excited about Bobby Valdez hanging whether they had a stomach for it or not.
"Lyall, don't you get scared up there alone with him?" she said with a little shiver that might have been partly real.
"What's there to be scared of? He's locked in a cell."
"What if one of his friends should come to help him?" Elodie said.
"How could a man like that have friends?"
"Well--I worry about you, Lyall."
Lyall stopped being calm, his whole face grinning. "Do you, Elodie?"
And that's what Lyall was thinking about when he went on duty Friday night. About Elodie.
Barney Groom was sitting at Bohannon's rolltop with his feet propped up, looking like he was ready to go to sleep. He said to Lyall, " 'Night's the last night. After the hanging we can relax a little."
Lyall went upstairs and sat down in the cane-bottom chair still thinking about Elodie: how she looked like a little girl when she pouted. A deputy marshal can probably support a wife, he thought. Still, he wasn't so sure, since Bohannon hadn't mentioned salary to him yet.
Bobby Valdez said, "This is the night the priest comes."
Lyall looked up. "I almost forgot. Bet you feel better already."
"As if I have risen from the dead," Bobby Valdez said.
Later on--Lyall didn't have a timepiece on him but he estimated it was shortly after midnight--he heard the noise downstairs. Not a strange noise; it was just that it came unexpectedly in the quiet. He looked over at Bobby Valdez. Still asleep. For the next few minutes it was quiet again.
Then he heard footsteps on the stairs. It must be the priest, Lyall thought, getting up. He'd told the man to tell the priest to just walk by Barney, who'd probably be asleep, and if he wasn't, just explain the whole thing. So Barney was either asleep or had agreed.
Lyall wasn't prepared for the robed figure that stepped into the hallway. He'd expected a priest in a regular black suit; but then he remembered the priest at White Sands was the kind who wore a long robe and sandals.
Lyall said, "Father?"
That end of the hallway was darker and Lyall couldn't see him very well, and now as he came forward, Lyall still couldn't see his face because the cowl, the hood part of the robe, was up over his head. His arms were folded, with his hands up in the big sleeves.
"Father?"
"My son."
Lyall turned to the cell. "He's right here, Father." Valdez was standing at the bars and it struck Lyall suddenly that he hadn't heard Valdez get up. He turned his head to look at the priest and felt the gun barrel jab against his back. "Place your weapon on the floor," the voice behind him said.
Bobby Valdez added, "My son," smiling now.
THE MAN BEHIND Lyall reached past him to hand the ring of jail keys to Valdez. As he did, the cowl fell back and Lyall saw the man he'd talked to in White Sands. Sixto Henriquez.
Valdez said, "Whether you could get a
robe was the thing that bothered me."
"A gift," Sixto said. "Hanging from his clothesline."
Lyall heard them, but he wouldn't let himself believe it. He wanted to say, "Wait a minute! Come on, now, this wasn't supposed to happen!"
Thinking of Bohannon and Elodie and the nights walking in the hallway, suddenly knowing he'd done the wrong thing, and too late to do anything about it. "Wait a minute . . . I was trying to help you!" But not saying it because it had been his own damn, stupid fault, and he was so aware of it now, he had to bite his lip to keep from yelling like a kid.
Valdez came out of the cell and picked up the shotgun Lyall had dropped. He said to Lyall, "Now my soul feels better."
He motioned Sixto toward the stairs. "Go first and see how it is with the old one."
"He sleep," Sixto said, and patted the barrel of his pistol.
"Let's be sure," Bobby Valdez said. He watched Sixto go through the doorway and listened to him start down the stairs. He looked at Lyall again, smiling. "You can mark this to experience."
If Valdez had backed out, holding the gun on Lyall, it wouldn't have happened. Even if he had just warned Lyall not to yell out or follow them--but he just turned and started walking out, knowing Lyall wouldn't dare try to stop him. And that's where Bobby Valdez made his mistake.
Lyall saw the man's back like a slap in the face. Even though he was scared, all of a sudden the knots inside him got too tight to stand. No thinking now about how it happened or what might happen--just an overpowering urge to get him!
He lunged at the back that was moving away. Three long strides and his arms were around Valdez's neck, jerking, swinging him off his feet.
He heard the shotgun clatter against the wall and hit the floor.
Tight against him, Bobby Valdez was turning his body. Lyall let go with one arm, brought it down quick, and drove it as hard as he could into the stomach almost against him. Valdez gasped and started to sag.