Three-Ten to Yuma and Other Stories (8 page)

They were nearing the other side of the open grade when Frank Usher said, “Here we are.”

Brennan looked beyond him and now he could make out, through the pines they were approaching, a weather-scarred stone-and-log hut built
snugly against the steep wall of sandstone. Against one side of the hut was a hide-covered lean-to. He heard Frank Usher say, “Chink, you get the man making a fire and I'll get the woman fixing supper.”

There had not been time to eat what the woman had prepared at the stage station and now Frank Usher and Chink ate hungrily, hunkered down a dozen yards out from the lean-to where Brennan and the woman stood.

Brennan took a plate of the jerky and day-old pan bread, but Doretta Mims did not touch the food. She stood next to him, half turned from him, and continued to stare through the trees across the bare slope in the direction they had come. Once Brennan said to her, “You better eat something,” but she did not answer him.

When they were finished, Frank Usher ordered them into the hut.

“You stay there the night…and if either of you comes near the door, we'll let go, no questions asked. That plain?”

The woman went in hurriedly. When Brennan entered he saw her huddled against the back wall near a corner.

The sod-covered hut was windowless, and he could barely make her out in the dimness. He wanted to go and sit next to her, but it went through his mind that most likely she was as afraid of him as she was of
Frank Usher and Chink. So he made room for himself against the wall where they had placed the saddles, folding a saddle blanket to rest his elbow on as he eased himself to the dirt floor. Let her try and get hold of herself, he thought; then maybe she will want somebody to talk to.

He made a cigarette and lit it, seeing the mask of her face briefly as the match flared, then he eased himself lower until his head was resting against a saddle, and smoked in the dim silence.

Soon the hut was full dark. Now he could not see the woman, though he imagined that he could feel her presence. Outside, Usher and Chink had added wood to the cook fire in front of the lean-to and the warm glow of it illuminated the doorless opening of the hut.

They'll sit by the fire, Brennan thought, and one of them will always be awake. You'd get about one step through that door and
bam.
Maybe Frank would aim low, but Chink would shoot to kill. He became angry thinking of Chink, but there was nothing he could do about it and he drew on the cigarette slowly to make himself relax, thinking: Take it easy: you've got the woman to consider. He thought of her as his responsibility and not even a doubt entered his mind that she was not. She was a woman, alone. The reason was as simple as that.

He heard her move as he was snubbing out the
cigarette. He lay still and he knew that she was coming toward him. She knelt as she reached his side.

“Do you know what they've done with my husband?”

He could picture her drawn face, eyes staring wide open in the darkness. He raised himself slowly and felt her stiffen as he touched her arm. “Sit down here and you'll be more comfortable.” He moved over to let her sit on the saddle blanket. “Your husband's all right,” he said.

“Where is he?”

“They didn't tell you?”

“No.”

Brennan paused. “One of them took him to Bisbee to see your father.”

“My father?”

“To ask him to pay to get you back.”

“Then my husband's all right.” She was relieved, and it was in the sound of her voice.

Brennan said, after a moment, “Why don't you go to sleep now? You can rest back on one of these saddles.”

“I'm not tired.”

“Well, you will be if you don't get some sleep.”

She said then, “They must have known all the time that we were coming.”

Brennan said nothing.

“Didn't they?”

“I don't know, ma'am.”

“How else would they know about…who my father is?”

“Maybe so.”

“One of them must have been in Contention and heard my husband charter the coach. Perhaps he had visited Bisbee and knew that my father…” Her voice trailed off because she was speaking more to herself than to Brennan.

After a pause Brennan said, “You sound like you feel a little better.”

He heard her exhale slowly and he could imagine she was trying to smile.

“Yes, I believe I do now,” she replied.

“Your husband will be back sometime tomorrow morning,” Brennan said to her.

She touched his arm lightly. “I
do
feel better, Mr. Brennan.”

He was surprised that she remembered his name. Rintoon had mentioned it only once, hours before. “I'm glad you do. Now, why don't you try to sleep?”

She eased back gently until she was lying down and for a few minutes there was silence.

“Mr. Brennan?”

“Yes, ma'am.”

“I'm terribly sorry about your friend.”

“Who?”

“The driver.”

“Oh. Thank you.”

“I'll remember him in my prayers,” she said, and after this she did not speak again.

Brennan smoked another cigarette, then sat unmoving for what he judged to be at least a half hour, until he was sure Doretta Mims was asleep.

Now he crawled across the dirt floor to the opposite wall. He went down on his stomach and edged toward the door, keeping close to the wall. Pressing his face close to the opening, he could see, off to the right side, the fire, dying down now. The shape of a man wrapped in a blanket was lying full length on the other side of it.

Brennan rose slowly, hugging the wall. He inched his head out to see the side of the fire closest to the lean-to, and as he did he heard the unmistakable click of a revolver being cocked. Abruptly he brought his head in and went back to the saddle next to Doretta Mims.

Chapter Four

In the morning they brought Doretta Mims out to cook; then sent her back to the hut while they ate. When they had finished they let Brennan and Doretta come out to the lean-to.

Frank Usher said, “That wasn't a head I seen pokin' out the door last night, was it?”

“If it was,” Brennan answered, “why didn't you shoot at it?”

“I about did. Lucky thing it disappeared,” Usher said. “Whatever it was.” And he walked away, through the trees to where the horses were picketed.

Chink sat down on a stump and began making a cigarette.

A few steps from Doretta Mims, Brennan leaned against the hut and began eating. He could see her profile as she turned her head to look out through the trees and across the open slope.

Maybe she
is
a little plain, he thought. Her nose doesn't have the kind of a clean-cut shape that stays in your mind. And her hair—if she didn't have it pulled back so tight she'd look a little younger, and happier. She could do something with her hair. She could do something with her clothes, too, to let you know she's a woman.

He felt sorry for her, seeing her biting her lower lip, still staring off through the trees. And for a reason he did not understand, though he knew it had nothing to do with sympathy, he felt very close to her, as if he had known her for a long time, as if he could look into her eyes—not just now, but anytime—and know what she was thinking. He realized
that it was sympathy, in a sense, but not the feeling-sorry kind. He could picture her as a little girl, and self-consciously growing up, and he could imagine vaguely what her father was like. And now—a sensitive girl, afraid of saying the wrong thing; afraid of speaking out of turn even if it meant wondering about instead of knowing what had happened to her husband. Afraid of sounding silly, while men like her husband talked and talked and said nothing. But even having to listen to him, she would not speak against him, because he was her husband.

That's the kind of woman to have, Brennan thought. One that'll stick by you, no matter what. And, he thought, still looking at her, one that's got some insides to her. Not just all on the surface. Probably you would have to lose a woman like that to really appreciate her.

“Mrs. Mims.”

She looked at him, her eyes still bearing the anxiety of watching through the trees.

“He'll come, Mrs. Mims. Pretty soon now.”

Frank Usher returned and motioned them into the hut again. He talked to Chink for a few minutes and now the gunman walked off through the trees.

Looking out from the doorway of the hut, Brennan said over his shoulder, “One of them's going out now to watch for your husband.” He glanced
around at Doretta Mims and she answered him with a hesitant smile.

Frank Usher was standing by the lean-to when Chink came back through the trees some time later. He walked out to meet him.

“They coming?”

Chink nodded. “Starting across the slope.”

Minutes later two horses came into view crossing the grade. As they came through the trees, Frank Usher called, “Tie up in the shade there!” He and Chink watched the two men dismount, then come across the clearing toward them.

“It's all set!” Willard Mims called.

Frank Usher waited until they reached him. “What'd he say?”

“He said he'd bring the money.”

“That right, Billy-Jack?”

Billy-Jack nodded. “That's what he said.” He was carrying Rintoon's sawed-off shotgun.

“You didn't suspect any funny business?”

Billy-Jack shook his head.

Usher fingered his beard gently, holding Mims with his gaze. “He can scare up that much money?”

“He said he could, though it will take most of today to do it.”

“That means he'll come out tomorrow,” Usher said.

Willard Mims nodded. “That's right.”

Usher's eyes went to Billy-Jack. “You gave him directions?”

“Like you said, right to the mouth of that barranca, chock full of willow. Then one of us brings him in from there.”

“You're sure he can find it?”

“I made him say it twice,” Billy-Jack said. “Every turn.”

Usher looked at Willard Mims again. “How'd he take it?”

“How do you think he took it?”

Usher was silent, staring at Mims. Then he began to stroke his beard again. “I'm asking you,” he said.

Mims shrugged. “Of course, he was mad, but there wasn't anything he could do about it. He's a reasonable man.”

Billy-Jack was grinning. “Frank, this time tomorrow we're sitting on top of the world.”

Willard Mims nodded. “I think you made yourself a pretty good deal.”

Frank Usher's eyes had not left Mims. “You want to stay here or go on back?”

“What?”

“You heard what I said.”

“You mean you'd let me go…now?”

“We don't need you anymore.”

Willard Mims's eyes flicked to the hut, then back to Frank Usher. He said, almost too eagerly, “I could go back now and lead old man Gateway out here in the morning.”

“Sure you could,” Usher said.

“Listen, I'd rather stay with my wife, but if it means getting the old man out here faster, then I think I better go back.”

Usher nodded. “I know what you mean.”

“You played square with me. By God, I'll play square with you.”

Mims started to turn away.

Usher said, “Don't you want to see your wife first?”

Mims hesitated. “Well, the quicker I start traveling, the better. She'll understand.”

“We'll see you tomorrow then, huh?”

Mims smiled. “About the same time.” He hesitated. “All right to get going now?”

“Sure.”

Mims backed away a few steps, still smiling, then turned and started to walk toward the trees. He looked back once and waved.

Frank Usher watched him, his eyes half closed in the sunlight. When Mims was almost to the trees, Usher said, quietly, “Chink, bust him.”

Chink fired, the .44 held halfway between waist and shoulders, the long barrel raising slightly as he fired again and again until Mims went down, lying still as the heavy reports faded into dead silence.

Chapter Five

Frank Usher waited as Billy-Jack stooped next to Mims. He saw Billy-Jack look up, nodding his head.

“Get rid of him,” Usher said, watching now as Billy-Jack dragged Mims's body through the trees to the slope and there let go of it. The lifeless body slid down the grade, raising dust, until it disappeared into the brush far below.

Frank Usher turned and walked back to the hut.

Brennan stepped aside as he reached the low doorway. Usher saw the woman on the floor, her face buried in the crook of her arm resting on one of the saddles, her shoulders moving convulsively as she sobbed.

“What's the matter with her?” he asked.

Brennan said nothing.

“I thought we were doing her a favor,” Usher said. He walked over to her, his hand covering the butt of his revolver, and touched her arm with his
booted toe. “Woman, don't you realize what you just got out of?”

“She didn't know he did it,” Brennan said quietly.

Usher looked at him, momentarily surprised. “No, I don't guess she would, come to think of it.” He looked down at Doretta Mims and nudged her again with his boot. “Didn't you know that boy was selling you? This whole idea was his, to save his own skin.” Usher paused. “He was ready to leave you again just now…when I got awful sick of him way down deep inside.”

Doretta Mims was not sobbing now, but still she did not raise her head.

Usher stared down at her. “That was some boy you were married to, would do a thing like that.”

Looking from the woman to Frank Usher, Brennan said, almost angrily, “What he did was wrong, but going along with it and then shooting him was all right?”

Usher glanced sharply at Brennan. “If you can't see a difference, I'm not going to explain it to you.” He turned and walked out.