Last Stand at Saber River - Leonard Elmore John - Страница 20
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“Sure, and I think you going off to war, and the other people he knew who went, convinced him he had to do something to help. Since he couldn’t become a soldier he did this with the guns.”
“Did he talk to you about it first?”
Manuel shook his head. “There were already guns under the store when I found out. John got into it through some man he knew who lives in Hidalgo. He didn’t want me to help, said I had no part in it. But I told him if he believed in what he was doing then so did I, so why waste our breath over it.”
“Do you believe in it?”
“I believed in John; that’s enough.”
“But what about now?”
“He started it,” Manuel said. “I’ll finish it, with or without the help of this man who’s so anxious to kill.”
“Something else,” Cable said. “Janroe told me that John was worried about Luz. That she was keeping company with Vern, and John didn’t like it.”
Manuel nodded. “She was seeing him often before Janroe came. Sometimes it bothered me, Vern being around; but John said, no, that was good, let him sit up there in the parlor with Luz. If we sneaked around and stayed to ourselves, John said, then people would suspect things… So I don’t think he was worried about Vern Kidston. If anything, John liked him. They talked well together; never about the war but about good things… No, Janroe was wrong about that part. He figured it out himself and maybe it made sense to him, but he’s wrong.”
“Luz stopped seeing Vern?”
“Right after Janroe came.”
“Do you know why?”
“I think because she was afraid Janroe would kill him, or try to, and if it happened at the store it would be because of her.” Manuel paused. “Does that make sense?”
“I suppose. Since she knew Janroe and Vern were on opposite sides.”
“Luz is afraid of him and admits it,” Manuel said. “She says she has a feeling about him and sees him in dreams as a nagual, a man who is able to change himself into something else. A man who is two things at the same time.”
“He could be two different people,” Cable said, nodding. “He could be what he tells you and he could be what he is, or what he is thinking. I don’t know. I don’t even know how to talk to him. He wants me to work for him and kill Vern and Duane because of what they’re doing.”
Manuel stared. “He asked me to do that, months ago.”
“What did you tell him?”
“To go to hell.”
“That’s what I wanted to say,” Cable said.
“But now Martha and the kids are living in his house and I have to go easy with him. But he keeps insisting and arguing it and after a while I run out of things to tell him.”
In the dimness, Manuel leaned closer, putting his hand on Cable’s arm. “Do you want to find out more about this Janroe?”
“How?”
“I’ll take you to the man I work for. John’s friend from Hidalgo. He can tell you things.”
“I don’t know-”
“You were at the war and you’d understand what he says about Janroe. You’d be able to ask questions.”
“Maybe I’d better.” Cable’s tone was low, thoughtful.
“Listen, you’re worried about your land; I know that. But after this I’ll help you and we’ll run these Kidstons straight to hell if you say it.”
“All right,” Cable nodded. “We’ll talk to your man.”
It was still sky-red twilight when they rode out, but full dark by the time they passed the store, keeping to the west side of the river and high up on the slope so they wouldn’t be heard.
Martha stood at the sink, taking her time with the breakfast dishes, making it last because she wasn’t sure what she would do after this. Perhaps ask Luz if she could help with something else. Luz, not Mr. Janroe. But even if there was something to be done, Luz would shake her head no, Martha was sure of that. So what would she do then? Perhaps go outside with the children.
Her gaze rose from the dishwater to the window and she saw her children playing in the back yard: Davis and Sandy pushing stick-trains over the hard-packed ground and making whistle sounds; Clare sitting on a stump, hunched over her slate with the tip of her tongue showing in the corner of her mouth.
They’re used to not seeing him, Martha thought. But you’re not used to it, not even after two and a half years. And now he seems farther away than before.
That was a strange thing. She had waited for Cable during the war knowing he would come home, knowing it and believing it, because she prayed hard and allowed herself to believe nothing else. Now he was within one hour’s ride, but the distance between them seemed greater than when he had served with General Forrest. And now, too, there was an uncertainty inside of her. Because you haven’t had time to think about it, she thought. Or not think about it. This time you haven’t gotten used to not thinking anything will happen to him.
For a moment the thought angered her. She had things to do at home. She had a family to care for, husband and children, but she stood calmly waiting and washing dishes in another person’s house, away from her husband again, and again faced with the tiring necessity of telling herself everything would be all right.
Was it worth it?
If it wasn’t, was anything worth waiting or fighting for?
And she thought, if you don’t have the desire to fight or wait for something, there’s no reason for being on earth.
That’s very easy to say. Now wash the dishes and live with it. Martha smiled then. No, she told herself, it was simply a question of stubbornness or resignation. If you ran away from one trouble, you would probably run into another. So face the first one, the important one, and get used to it. She remembered Cable saying, years before, “We’ve taken all there is to take. Nothing will make us leave this place.”
And perhaps you can believe that, just as you knew and believed he would come home from the war, Martha thought. So put on the big-smiling mask again. Even if it makes you gag.
But I’m tired, Martha thought, not smiling now. Perhaps you can keep the mask on only so long before it suffocates you.
She glanced over her shoulder as Luz entered the kitchen.
“I think Mr. Janroe is going out,” Luz said. She pulled a towel from a hook above the sink and began drying dishes. “He’s in the store, but dressed to go out.”
“Where would he be going?” Martha asked.
“I don’t know. Sometimes he just rides off.”
“Would it have anything to with the guns?”
Luz looked at her. “You know?”
“Of course. Don’t you think Paul would have told me?”
“I wasn’t sure.”
“Luz, do you have anything to do with it?”
The girl nodded. “On the day the guns are to arrive, I ride down to Hidalgo in the afternoon. That night I return an hour ahead of them seeing that the way is clear. Manuel follows, doing the same. Then the guns come.”
“Are you due to go again soon-or shouldn’t I ask that?”
“It doesn’t matter.” The girl shrugged. “Tomorrow I go again.”
“Aren’t you afraid?”
“Not when I’m away from here.”
“But you’re afraid of Mr. Janroe,” Martha said. “I’m sure of that. Why, Luz?”
“You don’t know him or you wouldn’t ask that.”
“I know he’s gruff. Hardly what you’d call a gentleman.”
“No.” Luz shook her head solemnly. She glanced at the doorway to the main room before saying, “It isn’t something you see in him.”
“Has he ever…made advances?”
“No, it isn’t like that either,” the girl said. “It’s something you feel. Like an awareness of evil. As if his soul was so smeared with stains of sin you were aware of a foulness about him that could almost be smelled.”
“Luz, to your knowledge the man hasn’t done a thing wrong.”
“The feeling is a kind of knowledge itself.”
“But it isn’t something you can prove, is it?” Martha stood with her hands motionless in the dishwater, her full attention on Luz. “What if suddenly you realize that all you’ve said couldn’t possibly be true, that it’s all something out of a dream or-”
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