Bowen moved past him, going to a front window. He saw her then, already dismounting, and heard Demery say, “It’s Karla,” going out the door, the screen slamming behind him. Through the window he saw Karla running to her father. She was telling him something, but he could hear only a few of her words: Renda…and Lizann Falvey…and Mimbres. Something about Mimbres.
He could hear their steps, the screen door opening and Karla’s voice clearly now, though she was out of breath and spoke hurriedly-
“They’re up on the hill-at least five or six, but I’m not sure because I came on them unexpectedly. They were all dismounted and I recognized the head one. He was there. The one who wears the hat-”
She saw Bowen then.
From the pines that crested the hill, Salvaje watched Karla Demery ride into the willows, saw her come out the other side and continue on at the same running pace across the yard. As she dismounted, a man came out of the adobe and she went to him.
The woman cannot help him, Salvaje thought in English. She will tell we are here, but what more could she do than that? And it matters little. Sooner or later he would come out and find out for himself.
He thought of Bowen as he would of another Apache. He thought of him as a man who considered carefully before he acted. A man who did not underestimate his opponent. And regarding Bowen this way, Salvaje had changed his own tactics.
Instead of sending one tracker to the station to signal the escaped man’s direction, Salvaje had followed the two men-running tracks himself all the way to these pines which overlooked the station. Four men remained with him. Another five were positioned in the trees which faced the corral behind the adobe.
Perhaps they could rush the adobe and take the two men by surprise. Perhaps the two men already knew they were here, even before the woman came. And perhaps they still had sticks that exploded. There were many perhapses and one had to think carefully to outwit an opponent.
Often he thought of the time Bowen, alone, had fought his men in the meadow and he held him in high regard.
This Bowen was a good opponent, but he seemed to not want to cause injury and this put him at a disadvantage. The first time he escaped, he shot at horses, but not at men. And throwing the exploding sticks it seemed he wanted to keep them from following, to warn them; but not to injure or kill.
It was unfortunate that a man should be born with that feeling; especially a man of this one’s ability. But it was also unfortunate one had to fight against him. He made it a good fight, but it would be better to be with him than against him. This man who took tulapai with Zele and Pindah.
But let him make the first move now. Watch this man. Perhaps one might even learn something from him. But if one did learn something-against whom would you use it? The good days were long past.
He is taking a long time, Salvaje continued to think. That could mean he is planning something worthwhile. Or perhaps the man who lives there shot him-though the sound might not have been that of a gun. Or perhaps he is afraid. No. That one could be afraid, but he would not show it by hiding.
A quarter of an hour had passed since the woman had gone down the slope. Then, as Salvaje watched the adobe, the screen door opened and a man stepped out. Salvaje rose.
He watched the man walk out a few strides, then stop, then raise his hat and wave it in the air in a slow come-forward signal. The man wore convict clothes and after only a moment of watching him Salvaje was sure that it was Bowen.
Now it begins. He wants to talk and he holds his arms up to show he is unarmed. Or he is giving himself up? No. He watched Bowen walk toward the willows.
All right, we talk. Salvaje motioned to one of his men and the two Mimbres walked down the slope side by side. They carried their Springfields and did not take their eyes from the figure of the man now standing in the deep shade of the willows. When he was almost to the trees, Salvaje motioned his man to stop and he went on alone.
Bowen stood waiting. He watched the Mimbreño part the hanging willow branches entering the shade, then stop directly across the narrow creek from him.
“You come armed,” Bowen said.
“I am under no truce,” the Mimbreño said. “Perhaps you should have arms yourself.”
“I came to speak as a friend.”
“Let me tell you something first,” Salvaje said, speaking clearly, carefully. “If you beg to go free, I will shoot you before you can turn away.”
“I didn’t come to beg,” Bowen said. “I’m going to tell you two things. If there is anything you don’t understand, I ask you to take my word that it’s the truth. If you don’t, there’s nothing I can do about it. When I’m through, it’s up to you to decide what you want to do. You understand that?”
Salvaje nodded.
Quickly then, but explaining it as simply as he could, Bowen told the Mimbreño how he had been tried once for a crime he had not committed and now he was to be tried again. Briefly he explained Karla’s part. Then Manring’s, and what Manring had tried to do in the adobe-final proof that he was guilty.
But, Bowen explained, his own innocence would mean nothing if Renda returned him to the camp. Renda could even kill him on the way and report that he had tried to escape. He must remain free long enough to appear in court again. That was the important thing. If Salvaje did not believe this he could ask the girl in the house. She acted fairly, for hadn’t Salvaje taken two of her horses yet she had not reported him?
Salvaje stared at Bowen. “But the man who is innocent kills two men in his escape.”
“That was not my doing,” Bowen said. “The one called Pryde tried to trap Brazil and he was killed himself.”
“Will the men of the trial believe that?”
Bowen hesitated. “I don’t know. I can only tell them how it happened.”
“And what is the second thing?” Salvaje asked.
“The girl in the house who rode past you,” Bowen said. “She had just left the camp where she saw Renda beating Falvey’s woman.” Bowen paused. “This is hard to explain; you see, Renda’s been doing things against the law. The woman knew about it and wanted to leave, but he wouldn’t let her. The girl, Karla, believes Renda is on his way here. Renda thinks the girl has a letter that will prove the unlawful things he has done.” Bowen paused again. “You see, Falvey’s woman, in order to get rid of him, told him the girl had been there earlier and had taken the letter with her. This was not true. As I said, it was only to make him leave. But the girl did happen to be there as they spoke. Renda saw her ride away and he believed she did have a letter.”
Bowen shook his head. “Does that make sense?”
“Finish,” Salvaje said.
“All right-Willis Falvey is in the house now. If he will report Renda, Renda will go to prison or even hang. Falvey is afraid of Renda, but now maybe he will report him.”
“And if Renda is taken now,” Salvaje said, “you will not go back to Five Shadows.”
“That’s right.”
“And Renda will be finished.”
“If we can prove what he’s been doing.”
“What would you have me do?” Salvaje asked.
Momentarily Bowen smiled. He said then, “Nothing.”
“Nothing?”
“We have to handle this ourselves,” Bowen said. “If you went against him you’d be liable for a court-martial; because nothing’s been proved against him yet. But if you’ll take your men away and let us handle it…well, I’ll be grateful. It’s up to you.”
“You are sure of yourself,” the Mimbreño said. “Or you wouldn’t have come out here.”
Bowen nodded. “I don’t know why-I just had a feeling you’d agree.”
“Perhaps we drink tulapai sometime.”
Bowen nodded again. “Perhaps.”
“I would like to see him finished,” Salvaje said thoughtfully. “I don’t understand everything, but I would like to see that happen.”