Lizann stared at him.
“Now I’ll have to go after her,” Renda said. He looked at Lizann again. “I would’ve sworn you were lying. You’re lucky she was still around. You know I just might have killed you.”
Lizann nodded slowly. She did not trust herself to speak.
They had come down the wagon-road slope keeping in line with the windowless north side of the stage station and now, from the willows, they looked across the open yard to the front of the adobe.
“One horse in the shed,” Manring said.
Bowen was studying it. From this angle they could see only the hindquarters and saddle. “It could be Willis Favley’s dun,” Bowen said. Karla wouldn’t be back yet, he thought. That left her father and whoever owned the dun. That you’re sure of, he thought.
“It could be,” Manring said. “That’d be something if he was inside.”
Bowen’s hand went into the front of his shirt. “We’re about to find out,” he said. As he pulled Lizann’s revolver he saw the look of surprise come over Manring’s bearded face.
“Where’d you get that?”
“I told you, Earl, we didn’t need you as much as you thought.” Bowen turned and as Manring continued to stare at him, moved out from the willows.
He started to hurry across the open yard, then thought: Take your time. He slowed to a walk, keeping his eyes on the door, but not going directly for it. He reached the corner of the building, hesitated, then moved along the front of the adobe, past the two windows, to the screen door. He opened it, felt it open wider as Manring took it, and brought up the revolver as he stepped into the room.
At the far end, behind the bar, John Demery looked up. As he did, as the astonishment came over his face, Willis Falvey glanced around, then turned suddenly, pressing his back to the bar.
Bowen said. “Who else is here?” moving toward them.
Demery shook his head. “Nobody else. Karla-” he stopped. “You broke out!”
Bowen motioned with the revolver. “Come around to this side.” He glanced at Manring. “Look out back.”
Manring was staring at Falvey. “I got to talk to little Willis.” He walked toward him, ignoring Bowen.
Falvey pressed against the bar. “I never did anything to you.”
“Leave him alone,” Bowen said.
Falvey looked toward Bowen. “I don’t even know his name. How could I have done anything to him?”
Close to him Manring said, “You were there, boy. That’s enough.”
Bowen stepped toward them. “Get away from him, Earl.”
Falvey’s face was flushed; he’d had a lot of whiskey, Bowen judged, but not enough to hide his open-eyed, lip-biting expression of fear.
“I don’t care if you run away,” Falvey said. “More power to you. Ask John here, I was telling him…I don’t care anymore what goes on at that place.”
“He doesn’t care,” Demery said. “But not enough to pull out.”
Falvey turned on him. “Why should I? I do my job! What Frank does is none of my business!” He caught himself then. “You don’t even know what you’re talking about.”
“You’re doing the talking,” Demery said. “Maybe I don’t know everything; but living within six miles of that place, and watching you, I know enough.”
Abruptly, Manring pulled Falvey around by his coat lapels. “Willis, are you packing a gun?”
Falvey shook his head emphatically. “It’s on my saddle. Gun and holster both hanging on the saddle.”
Manring released him, stepping back. “Let’s see.”
Falvey’s hands went to his coat. He unbuttoned it and was holding it open when Manring’s fist drove into his face. Head and shoulders snapped back and as his knees buckled Manring hit him again.
“Leave him alone!” Bowen was on Manring pushing him away and Demery caught Falvey before he could fall.
Manring stepped back, looking at Bowen now. “You’re a real do-gooder, aren’t you?”
“Earl, get out of here. Take a look out back; then bring the dun around and saddle another horse.”
“So you’re bossing,” Manring said mildly.
Bowen nodded. “Now you’re sure of it.”
“That’s a lot of order giving,” Manring said, “for a man who’s still got numbers on his pants.”
Bowen moved the revolver toward him. “You’re on a poor end for arguing about it, Earl.” He held the revolver on him until Manring turned and went out through the kitchen.
To Falvey, Bowen said, “You’d better sit down.”
Falvey shook his head. “I’m all right.” He took out a handkerchief to wipe the blood from his mouth, then turned to the bar and drank down the whiskey still in his glass.
Demery watched Bowen move to one of the front windows. “You didn’t see Karla,” he said. “You couldn’t have.”
Looking out across the yard to the willows Bowen said, “I saw her. She passed us just before…just before we ran off.”
“I mean,” Demery said, “you didn’t talk to her.”
Bowen looked at him now. “She wanted to tell me something, but Brazil was there.” It seemed a long time ago and he had almost forgotten it.
“Well, it doesn’t matter now,” Demery said.
“What doesn’t?”
“Man, you got a new trial coming up. New evidence, new trial, new everything!”
“What-”
“You heard me right-a new trial! With about an eighty per cent chance of going free. But you have to break out and ruin any chance you ever had!”
Bowen stared at him. “How do you know?”
“We heard from Lyall Martz.”
“Karla didn’t tell me anything about a new trial! How was I to know-”
“She told you about the lawyer!”
“That was talk.”
“Talk!” Demery said hotly. “Those two have been working for you for a month-Karla pleading at Lyall and Lyall pulling more strings than a four-team driver. And all the time you’re thinking how to do it the hard way. You couldn’t wait. Got to bust out with your bare hands as if that would prove something.” Demery moved around the end of the bar. He poured whiskey into a glass and pushed it at Bowen. “Have a drink.”
Bowen exhaled slowly. He raised the glass and drank off the whiskey. He tried to smile then. “I guess my timing’s poor.”
“I guess it is,” Demery said. He hesitated before adding, “But maybe not so poor to be too late.”
“What do you mean?”
Demery looked at Falvey. “Willis, if this man gives himself up, will you look after him, be responsible for him till a marshal comes from Prescott?”
Falvey hesitated. “I don’t see how I could.”
“You could stay right here. We’ll lock him in a room and you could stand right there at the bar till the Prescott man comes.”
“I don’t have the authority-”
“Damn it, take the authority!”
Falvey shook his head. “It’s out of my jurisdiction.”
“Willis, the man just saved you from getting your head beat in!”
“I’m sorry-”
Demery shook his head. “He’s sorry.”
Bowen placed his elbows on the bar, leaning toward Demery. “What’d the lawyer find out, Mr. Demery?”
“All the things that should’ve come out at the trial,” the station agent said. “Lyall found the man who’d forged the cattleman’s name on the bill of sale.”
“Then Earl didn’t do it.”
“No,” Demery said. “He didn’t do it. He paid to have it done.”
“You’re sure.”
“Of course I’m sure. This forger’s name is Roy Avery. He confessed to his part and told everything he knew.”
Bowen shook his head. “I never heard of him.”
“Avery says he never heard of you either,” Demery said. “He signed a statement that it was his understanding Manring was in it alone. He said you must’ve been hired just as a hand.”
“How’d the lawyer get Avery to make the statement?” asked Bowen.
“Lyall’s full of tricks,” Demery said. “But he might’ve just held a gun on him for all I know.”
“I’m obliged to him.”
“You sure as hell are.” Demery paused before saying, “That’s some partner you’ve got. Takes you to jail with him.”