Three-Ten to Yuma and Other Stories (9 page)

Brennan stood looking down at the woman for a few moments, then went over to the door and sat down on the floor just inside it. After a while he could hear Doretta Mims crying again. And for a long time he sat listening to her muffled sobs as he
looked out at the sunlit clearing, now and again seeing one of the three outlaws.

He judged it to be about noon when Frank Usher and Billy-Jack rode out, walking their horses across the clearing, then into the trees, with Chink standing looking after them.

They're getting restless, Brennan thought. If they're going to stay here until tomorrow, they've got to be sure nobody's followed their sign. But it would take the best San Carlos tracker to pick up what little sign we made from Sasabe.

He saw Chink walking leisurely back to the lean-to. Chink looked toward the hut and stopped. He stood hip-cocked, with his thumbs in his crossed gun belts.

“How many did that make?” Brennan asked.

“What?” Chink straightened slightly.

Brennan nodded to where Mims had been shot. “This morning.”

“That was the seventh,” Chink said.

“Were they all like that?” he asked.

“How do you mean?”

“In the back.”

“I'll tell you this: Yours will be from the front.”

“When?”

“Tomorrow before we leave. You can count on it.”

“If your boss gives you the word.”

“Don't worry about that,” Chink said. Then,
“You could make a run for it right now. It wouldn't be like just standing up gettin' it.”

“I'll wait till tomorrow,” Brennan said.

Chink shrugged and walked away.

After a few minutes Brennan realized that the hut was quiet. He turned to look at Doretta Mims. She was sitting up, staring at the opposite wall with a dazed expression.

Brennan moved to her side and sat down again. “Mrs. Mims, I'm sorry—”

“Why didn't you tell me it was his plan?”

“It wouldn't have helped anything.”

She looked at Brennan now pleadingly. “He could have been doing it for all of us.”

Brennan nodded. “Sure he could.”

“But you don't believe that, do you?”

Brennan looked at her closely, at her eyes puffed from crying. “Mrs. Mims, you know your husband better than I did.”

Her eyes lowered and she said quietly, “I feel very foolish sitting here. Terrible things have happened in these two days, yet all I can think of is myself. All I can do is look at myself and feel very foolish.” Her eyes raised to his. “Do you know why, Mr. Brennan? Because I know now that my husband never cared for me; because I know that he married me for his own interest.” She paused. “I saw an innocent man killed yesterday and I can't
even find the decency within me to pray for him.”

“Mrs. Mims, try and rest now.”

She shook her head wearily. “I don't care what happens to me.”

There was a silence before Brennan said, “When you get done feeling sorry for yourself I'll tell you something.”

Her eyes came open and she looked at him, more surprised than hurt.

“Look,” Brennan said. “You know it and I know it—your husband married you for your money; but you're alive and he's dead and that makes the difference. You can moon about being a fool till they shoot you tomorrow, or you can start thinking about saving your skin right now. But I'll tell you this—it will take both of us working together to stay alive.”

“But he said he'd let us—”

“You think they're going to let us go after your dad brings the money? They've killed four people in less than twenty-four hours!”

“I don't care what happens to me!”

He took her shoulders and turned her toward him. “Well, I care about me, and I'm not going to get shot in the belly tomorrow because you feel sorry for yourself.”

“But I can't help!” Doretta pleaded.

“You don't know if you can or not. We've got to keep our eyes open and we've got to think, and when
the chance comes we've got to take it quick or else forget about it.” His face was close to hers and he was still gripping her shoulders. “These men will kill. They've done it before and they have nothing to lose. They're going to kill us. That means we've got nothing to lose. Now, you think about that a while.”

He left her and went back to the door.

Brennan was called out of the hut later in the afternoon, as Usher and Billy-Jack rode in. They had shot a mule deer and Billy-Jack carried a hindquarter dangling from his saddle horn. Brennan was told to dress it down, enough for supper, and the rest to be stripped and hung up to dry.

“But you take care of the supper first,” Frank Usher said, adding that the woman wasn't in fit condition for cooking. “I don't want burned meat just 'cause she's in a state over her husband.”

After they had eaten, Brennan took meat and coffee in to Doretta Mims.

She looked up as he offered it to her. “I don't care for anything.”

He was momentarily angry, but it passed off and he said, “Suit yourself.” He placed the cup and plate on the floor and went outside to finish preparing the jerky.

By the time he finished, dusk had settled over the clearing and the inside of the hut was dark as he stepped inside.

He moved to her side and his foot kicked over the tin cup. He stooped quickly, picking up the cup and plate, and even in the dimness he could see that she had eaten most of the food.

“Mr. Brennan, I'm sorry for the way I've acted.” She hesitated. “I thought you would understand, else I'd never have told you about—about how I felt.”

“It's not a question of my understanding,” Brennan said.

“I'm sorry I told you,” Doretta Mims said.

He moved closer to her and knelt down, sitting back on his heels. “Look. Maybe I know how you feel, better than you think. But that's not important. Right now you don't need sympathy as much as you need a way to stay alive.”

“I can't help the way I feel,” she said obstinately.

Brennan was momentarily silent. He said then, “Did you love him?”

“I was married to him!”

“That's not what I asked you. While everybody's being honest, just tell me if you loved him.”

She hesitated, looking down at her hands. “I'm not sure.”

“But you wanted to be in love with him, more than anything.”

Her head nodded slowly. “Yes.”

“Did you ever think for a minute that he loved you?”

“That's not a fair question!”

“Answer it anyway!”

She hesitated again. “No, I didn't.”

He said, almost brutally, “Then what have you lost outside of a little pride?”

“You don't understand,” she said.

“You're afraid you can't get another man—is that what it is? Even if he married you for money, at least he married you. He was the first and last chance as far as you were concerned, so you grabbed him.”

“What are you trying to do, strip me of what little self-respect I have left?”

“I'm trying to strip you of this foolishness! You think you're too plain to get a man?”

She bit her lower lip and looked away from him.

“You think nobody'll have you because you bite your lip and can't say more than two words at a time?”

“Mr. Brennan—”

“Listen, you're as much woman as any of them. A hell of a lot more than some, but you've got to realize it! You've got to do something about it!”

“I can't help it if—”

“Shut up with that I-can't-help-it talk! If you can't help it, nobody can. All your life you've been sitting around waiting for something to happen to you. Sometimes you have to walk up and take what you want.”

Suddenly he brought her to him, his arms circling her shoulders, and he kissed her, holding his lips to hers until he felt her body relax slowly and at the same time he knew that she was kissing him.

His lips brushed her cheek and he said, close to her, “We're going to stay alive. You're going to do exactly what I say when the time comes, and we're going to get out of here.” Her hair brushed his cheek softly and he knew that she was nodding yes.

Chapter Six

During the night he opened his eyes and crawled to the lighter silhouette of the doorway. Keeping close to the front wall, he looked out and across to the low-burning fire. One of them, a shadowy form that he could not recognize, sat facing the hut. He did not move, but by the way he was sitting Brennan knew he was awake. You're running out of time, Brennan thought. But there was nothing he could do.

The sun was not yet above the trees when Frank Usher appeared in the doorway. He saw that Brennan was awake and he said, “Bring the woman out,” turning away as he said it.

Her eyes were closed, but they opened as Brennan touched her shoulder, and he knew that she had
not been asleep. She looked up at him calmly, her features softly shadowed.

“Stay close to me,” he said. “Whatever we do, stay close to me.”

They went out to the lean-to and Brennan built the fire as Doretta got the coffee and venison ready to put on.

Brennan moved slowly, as if he were tired, as if he had given up hope; but his eyes were alive and most of the time his gaze stayed with the three men—watching them eat, watching them make cigarettes as they squatted in a half circle, talking, but too far away for their voices to be heard. Finally, Chink rose and went off into the trees. He came back with his horse, mounted, and rode off into the trees again but in the other direction, toward the open grade.

It went through Brennan's mind: He's going off like he did yesterday morning, but this time to wait for Gateway. Yesterday on foot, but today on his horse, which means he's going farther down to wait for him. And Frank went somewhere yesterday morning. Frank went over to where the horses are. He suddenly felt an excitement inside of him, deep within his stomach, and he kept his eyes on Frank Usher.

A moment later Usher stood up and started off toward the trees, calling back something to Billy-
Jack about the horses—and Brennan could hardly believe his eyes.

Now. It's now. You know that, don't you? It's now or never. God help me. God help me think of something! And suddenly it was in his mind. It was less than half a chance, but it was something, and it came to him because it was the only thing about Billy-Jack that stood out in his mind, besides the shotgun.
He was always looking at Doretta!

She was in front of the lean-to, and he moved toward her, turning his back to Billy-Jack sitting with Rintoon's shotgun across his lap.

“Go in the hut and start unbuttoning your dress.” He half whispered it and saw her eyes widen as he said it. “Go on! Billy-Jack will come in. Act surprised. Embarrassed. Then smile at him.” She hesitated, starting to bite her lip. “Damn it, go on!”

He poured himself a cup of coffee, not looking at her as she walked away. Putting the coffee down, he saw Billy-Jack's eyes following her.

“Want a cup?” Brennan called to him. “There's about one left.”

Billy-Jack shook his head and turned the sawed-off shotgun on Brennan as he saw him approaching.

Brennan took a sip of the coffee. “Aren't you going to look in on that?” He nodded toward the hut.

“What do you mean?”

“The woman,” Brennan said matter-of-factly. He took another sip of the coffee.

“What about her?” Billy-Jack asked.

Brennan shrugged. “I thought you were taking turns.”

“What?”

“Now, look, you can't be so young, I got to draw you a map—” Brennan smiled. “Oh, I see…. Frank didn't say anything to you. Or Chink…. Keeping her for themselves….”

Billy-Jack's eyes flicked to the hut, then back to Brennan. “They were with her?”

“Well, all I know is Frank went in there yesterday morning and Chink yesterday afternoon while you were gone.” He took another sip of the coffee and threw out what was left in the cup. Turning, he said, “No skin off my nose,” and walked slowly back to the lean-to.

He began scraping the tin plates, his head down, but watching Billy-Jack. Let it sink through that thick skull of yours. But do it quick! Come on, move, you animal!

There! He watched Billy-Jack walk slowly toward the hut. God, make him move faster! Billy-Jack was out of view then beyond the corner of the hut.

All right. Brennan put down the tin plate he was holding and moved quickly, noiselessly, to the side of the hut and edged along the rough logs until he
reached the corner. He listened first before he looked around. Billy-Jack had gone inside.

He wanted to make sure, some way, that Billy-Jack would be looking at Doretta, but there was not time. And then he was moving again—along the front, and suddenly he was inside the hut, seeing the back of Billy-Jack's head, seeing him turning, and a glimpse of Doretta's face, and the sawed-off shotgun coming around. One of his hands shot out to grip the stubby barrel, pushing it, turning it up and back violently, and the other hand closed over the trigger guard before it jerked down on Billy-Jack's wrist.

Deafeningly, a shot exploded, with the twin barrels jammed under the outlaw's jaw. Smoke and a crimson smear, and Brennan was on top of him wrenching the shotgun from squeezed fingers, clutching Billy-Jack's revolver as he came to his feet.

He heard Doretta gasp, still with the ringing in his ears, and he said, “Don't look at him!” already turning to the doorway as he jammed the Colt into his empty holster.

Frank Usher was running across the clearing, his gun in his hand.

Brennan stepped into the doorway leveling the shotgun. “Frank, hold it there!”

Usher stopped dead, but in the next second he was aiming, his revolver coming up even with his face, and Brennan's hand squeezed the second trigger of the shotgun.

Usher screamed and went down, grabbing his knees, and he rolled to his side as he hit the ground. His right hand came up, still holding the Colt.