Duster (9781310020889) Read online

  He caught me looking at it and tipped his hat down a little so I could admire it better.

  "You like that, eh?" he said. "Is very important to have people know who you are, an' when someone sees me they know it is me, eh?" He reached out and patted me on the shoulder. "Sometimes though, boy, you don't want so ver' much to be seen, eh? Sometimes, like tonight like you wanted to hide away from these terrible bandidos, right?"

  He swept a hand around to point out his men, and they laughed at some joke he must of made.

  The bandit leader stepped close in front of me and pushed his face up next to mine real close so he just about had the tips of his mustache in my ear.

  He put an arm around my shoulders and gave a low huh-huh-huh chuckle. "So sometimes, when you want to hide from bandidos, you take your hat off so it don't shine bright like a pretty star in the night, eh?"

  He really got all broke up over that, laughing and carrying on. Me, I just felt sort of stupid. Jesus and me must of stuck out like a couple of moons, crouched behind the brush there with our hats hung out like signal lanterns.

  I looked over at Jesus, and he seemed to be feeling about as down on himself as I was on me. One of the bandits gave him a poke in the ribs and another took hold of Jesus's old hat and pulled it down over his ears. They was having a high old time of it all.

  "Well," I said, "you've got us now. If you ain't going to kill us right off, how about letting us have a drink of water? We come off from Dog Town without none."

  That got another good round of yuks from them, but the leader sent one of the men over to the horses to fetch a water bag.

  "I think mebbe we got time to geeve a drink before we kill you, muchachos," the leader said.

  I did wish he'd quit pointing out how young and stupid we were. But the water tasted awful good when it came. Between the pair of us, Jesus and me just about finished off that sack of water. I didn't have any idea where that foul-smelling goatskin sack might of been before it hit my lips, but right then, I didn't care.

  The Mexicans waited real polite till we finished drinking what we could hold, then they passed around some strips of jerked meat for us to make a supper out of.

  Jesus was chattering away in Mex talk like it was a family get-together, and I was feeling some better myself, not being quite so worried about it all.

  When we was finished, the leader pulled a real pretty little tobacco canteen out of his coat pocket and built up a smoke Mexican style, rolling loose tobacco up inside a bit of paper. They called that a cigarette, and some of the Texas hands was starting to pick up the practice.

  One of his men jumped right up with a block of matches when he was done, and the head man wedged off a wood match with a long fingernail and made a big show of getting his smoke lit up and puffing right.

  "Now, muchachos," he said, "we 'ave this problem, you see. We gots our work to do up here in Texas an' I think we do not want to leave you here all alone while we go off to our labors, eh?"

  He scratched his belly and I couldn't help but notice how close his fingers came to the revolver in his sash. There must of been a little piece of jerky left in my throat 'cause I could feel something sticking there.

  6

  NOW IT JUST may be that some folks in A situation like we was in will have their lives strung out for them in memory as a sort of instant refresher in all the fine things they've done and all the good reasons they oughtn't to quit hanging around, and maybe some others think to draw themselves up all straight and tall and make a fine, proud resolve to go out like a man.

  I got to admit I never thought of them things. After all, there really wasn't much past worth thinking on and I wasn't up to making any claims on being grown up right then, either.

  So, the way it turned out, I was too pure scared to think about anything right off. I took a look over at Jesus, and even in the moonlight I could make out how long his face was. Either he thought quicker than me or he was a different kind of scared. For one second, he was standing there like a whipped puppy and the next second he was head-down, arms flailing, and going at a dead run after not more than a hop, scoot, and two good jumps to build up speed.

  Those Mex bandits had no more than jerked their heads to watch Jesus than I was off and running the other way. I may not be the quickest when it comes to thinking things up, but when a fellow sets me a good example it don't take me any time to pick up on it. So I did that.

  I ducked down and bolted clean past the nearest two while they was still gawking in the direction Jesus had took out.

  There wasn't but a few paces distance to clear and I'd be past our saddles and other truck and into the brush where maybe I could hide. I pumped my legs just about as hard as they would go and ran clean through a patch of brush. It wasn't more than waist high, though, and didn't do any more than to tip me forward some while I caught up my balance and took another jump.

  The distance between me and where we had spread our saddle blankets wasn't getting smaller near fast enough to suit me, but I wasn't about to quit for that disappointment. A couple more jumps, and I was there.

  I kicked my leg out to leap over the coals from the fire, and I got up in the air pretty good too. Then some fool Mexican had to wander by from one side—he must of been one of them that was off with the horses—and catch up my hind foot just about the time I was all the way up off the ground. The top part of me kept right on going while my foot stayed back there with the Mexican. I come down flat, clean across Jesus's saddle, and it's a wonder I didn't bust the tree all to splinters. It might of been some easier on my belly if it had busted.

  I tried to kick loose, and I tried biting some and punching with all the knees, elbows, and fists I could muster, but before I could make out there was any improvement with this first Mexican another one had pounced on me. It didn't take much of a scramble then until I was stretched out on my back with everything pinned down tight except my tongue.

  Since that was all I had left that I could use, I turned loose with my tongue next. I hollered for all I was worth, giving Jesus all kinds of good advice about how fast he should run and how quick he should bring back some help to avenge his dead saddle partner, which was what I figured to be real quick.

  The Mexicans that was sitting on me didn't pay me no mind. They just held me down sort of casual like and let me holler off some steam.

  After a bit, one of them reached over and took hold of a solid handful of hair and lifted my head to where I could see something more than straight up.

  Across the way a bunch more of them was dragging Jesus back toward the main group. He came along pretty willing, except every few steps, he'd try to jerk loose and would take to spitting and cussing until one of the Mexicans would give him a clout alongside his head. Then he'd quiet down for a few steps more.

  They carried him right along to where the leader was. When he got there Jesus quit trying to tug loose and stood up real stiff. He looked over at me and said, "We tried pretty good, hey, Duster? They know we ain't the kind to just lay there and get shot."

  I was trying to think of something real brave to say to that, but the leader of the bunch spoke up first.

  "Eh, you boys think we gonna shoot you? I scare you good, eh?" He got a fine laugh out of that. "I gots to say you got nerve enough you don't want to go without you try to get away from me. But no, no, you don't get away so easy from Juan Estrada, eh?"

  He waved me up next to him, which I did with a generous assist from the two Mexicans who'd caught me.

  When we was both up close, Estrada waved a pointing finger under our noses and glared at us. "So, you think maybe I make war on babies? You think maybe you are so grown up I got to kill you so I don't worry what you do behind my back, eh?" He jammed his fists against his hips and stood staring at us with his jaw stuck out. "I think maybe I should do jus' that an' shoot you both deads jus' to keep you from bothering me. I think maybe I should do that." He turned around and stood with his back to us, but we could see from the way his
shoulders were heaving that he was working himself up to an angry spell.

  He stood like that for maybe a full minute, not moving except for that heavy breathing that got loud enough we could hear it.

  All of a sudden then, he swung around fast and flung his finger out again like he was going to shoot us or hit us or something. We both of us ducked. "An' I will do it if you one more time make me forget that Juan Estrada does not shoot babies." He jerked his hand up in the air in a fist, then waved us away.

  He growled some more and stomped off, calling out to someone to bring the horses up. I would be lying if I said I didn't feel awful relieved right then.

  Someone caught up the horses and brung them and our mules out on the road, and we all got sorted out and mounted. Once our blankets and saddles was up on the mules we didn't have to worry about leaving anything behind, and in no time we was strung out on the road with a Mexican leading Gert and Stardust.

  They took us up the road toward Dog Town again at a clip that was pretty fast for those old mules though they seemed to make out all right.

  After an hour or so, we turned off the road and shoved through the brush. The Mexicans had been talking and joking and having a fine old time until then, but once we was off the road they shut up and told us to keep quiet too.

  We went along slow-like through the brush with only the sound of leaves and thorn branches being shoved around to mark our going. Every once in a while someone would cough or lean over to one side to blow his nose and it would sound real loud and sort of scary. It was awful dark, after all, and I couldn't help but get the idea that any loud noise would bring something terrible down on us out of the dark.

  Jesus and me shuffled right along with them on our mules, and I think we was both too scared of noise right then to speak up even if there had been a company of Rangers in the brush we could call out to to save us. Not that that was likely, since they was disbanded after the war.

  We went on like that for a half hour or more before Estrada pulled up and let the others ride past until we came up to him.

  He said something in Spanish to the two that was leading our mules, and they stopped too.

  Estrada jerked his head to point in the direction we had all been riding in and told us, "Up there we meet some good frens of us, an' I think maybe you would tell someone about them an' they, maybe they think about this an' they want to shoot you right here. You don't want this, si?"

  Jesus and me let him know that was real fine with us not to see those fellows. Any way he wanted to handle it was all right—anything shy of shooting us himself so as to save them other fellows the trouble.

  What it was all about was easy to figure. Bandits and rustlers being what they are, they have something of a time getting rid of the stuff they steal close to home. They can't steal a cow from one man and then sell it to his neighbor, and rustlers don't like long drives with strange stock any more than the next man. Plus, the stock records keep them from selling to honest shippers, for their books are checked by the county inspector. On the other hand, no honest Texan resents getting a bargain on stock carrying Mexican brands, and I guess the Mexican ranchers feel pretty much the same way about bargain cattle wearing Texas brands.

  The way the rustlers worked it out was that Mexican ban-didos would steal Mex cattle and then swap them for Texas cattle that had been stole by Texas rustlers. Then both could turn right around and sell the other fellow's stuff in a place where nobody'd be asking questions about the brands.

  It worked out all right for the rustlers, but some less for the Texas and Mex ranchers who had to buy each other's stolen stock to make up for the losses from their own herds. It was a sort of swap deal with the rustlers getting paid to handle the middleman chore—and the ranchers not having much to say about whether they wanted to swap cows with someone on the other side of the border.

  Anyway, I figured Estrada and his bunch were here to pick up some stuff that had been stole somewhere in Texas. I couldn't figure why they'd be making a one-way deal and not passing any Mex cows on to our rustlers unless the Texans owed Estrada some from a past deal or something like that. But I sure wasn't going to ask him to tell me what it was about.

  Estrada told one of his bandits, a little man with a big smile and a bigger revolver, to stay with us, then he and the one that had been leading my mule rode on off to catch up with the others.

  Old Gert clumsied her way up beside Stardust and we settled down to do some waiting. I just sat quiet, but Jesus and the Mex—I picked up that his name was Oberon—talked in whispers. They chatted real friendly for quite a spell.

  Since I couldn't make out one word in four that they was saying, I sat there with old Gert and listened to the night. Not that there was so much to listen to. Estrada and the rest of them must of gone up ahead quite a ways because we couldn't hear a single thing—not even cows. Mostly those old range critters will bed down pretty quiet except for their midnight stretch when they all get up to stomp around a little and hunt up a mouthful of graze to hold them until morning. Even when the herd is down and still, though, some old steer will get up every once in a while to sniff the air and maybe bawl a little and clack horns with his neighbor before he goes back to sleeping.

  We was far off enough from the rustlers that we couldn't hear the first thing of a herd of cows. About all I could hear of anything was an occasional rustle in the brush nearby where maybe a jack rabbit or a coyote or a javalina would be wandering by and give a jump when he smelled that there was horses and people close. They tell me there's a lot of wildcats and even some little prairie wolves in the brush down our way, but I've never seen a wolf in McMullen County, and the cats are too shy to be seen very much.

  After a considerable time, a little breeze picked up and rattled the brush around some, so I knew it wouldn't be long before the sky started to lighten up. That air felt clean and fresh on my face, but it was cool, too, and reminded me that we was running shy on sleep. There wasn't much to do about it except shiver a bit and pull the leather closer over my chest to help keep off the chill.

  I must of dozed off some then, because the next thing I knew, I could feel old Gert shifting around underneath me, moving her weight from one foot to another, and when I looked up, the sky was all gray so the stars could barely be made out, and there was enough light I could pick out branches and even some of the bigger thorns on the mesquite and retama around us.

  Old Gert had spotted some sweet-smelling huajillo just ahead of us, and she cocked her one good eye at it and shuffled her feet some more until she decided she wasn't going to let me interfere with breakfast; then she picked her way over to it and dropped her head to pull at the soft, new growth.

  Jesus and Oberon had shut up some time before, I guess, maybe running out of lies to swap, for they was both slouched low in their saddles and looked to be about half asleep.

  The breeze picked up more as the sky got lighter and the stars began to fade away for the day. Pretty soon, Stardust moved up to help Gert out with the huajillo, and Jesus got awake enough to stretch and pound himself on the chest to warm up.

  Oberon said something in Spanish and Jesus turned to me and grinned. "He thinks we are not so very pretty in the morning, Duster," he said.

  "Well, tell him I got no desire to go to courtin' him so he needn't care about that. Besides, he don't deserve no better. It's what he gets for leading a life of crime." The moving around had just made me feel colder and meaner instead of better.

  Oberon kicked loose of his horse and slid down on the ground to join us. Jesus told him something, repeating what I'd said I guess, and he seemed to get a kick out of it instead of taking offense. He said something back and Jesus told me, "He says he was going to invite us to join him, but now he thinks maybe you would not make a good bandit after all."

  Oberon said something else and Jesus said, "He says you are missing out on something good. He says the pretty girls in Mexico like boys with their pockets full of gold from selling gringo cows."


  That did seem to mean I'd been right in what I thought about them. "Tell him the hours don't suit me," I said. "I like to sleep at night."

  Jesus and I went back to our stomping around, and Oberon fiddled with his saddle, loosening the cinch; then he dug around in a leather wallet laced on behind his cantle until he found a few strips of jerky that he divided up in three equal shares. He handed us our share and said something to Jesus who passed it along to me: "He don't have no water—says he's sorry about that." I smiled at him and bit off a big chunk of jerky to show him I didn't hold it against him. The jerky tasted pretty good for a fact, and it didn't seem quite so cold once we had that inside us.

  By the time the jerky was gone, it was plenty light enough to see. Jesus and Oberon found themselves a clear space and sat down on the ground so they could huddle over some bone dice Oberon pulled out of a pocket somewhere. I watched long enough to decide I couldn't figure out what they was doing, and then wandered off to see if I could spot some quail or something to chunk rocks at since I was still hungry and didn't have anything better to do.

  I kicked around for the better part of an hour without seeing anything more interesting than a big old chuckwalla, and I left it alone. They say the Indians used to eat them, but I'd had to be a sight hungrier before I'd eat a lizard as ugly as that one was.

  I got back to the mules just about the time another one of Estrada's men came riding up at a good pace. He called out something before he even got stopped, and Jesus jumped up from the ground real quick.

  "Come on, Duster. Them gringo rustlers heard we was here an' they don't want to take a chance on us seeing them. They want Estrada to shoot us an' leave us out here. He sent word for us to get on our mules and get on about our business quick before them gringos decide to come do the job themselves."