Raylan said, “You think Louis’ll save you?”
Chip didn’t answer. What Raylan saw him do was come to a decision, like it was now or never for him. He seemed to square his shoulders as he looked at Raylan. And stepped inside. Raylan followed.
He was in the house.
Some window light showed in the front rooms bare of furniture. From the foyer the hallway became gradually darker to where a square of light lay on the floor, coming from a doorway down at the end.
“That way,” Raylan said and kept two steps behind Chip moving along bare walls in no hurry, cautious in a house that was supposed to be empty. They approached the doorway now that showed light inside, a soft lamp glow. Raylan kept his eyes on the doorway, past Chip’s left shoulder, almost there when Chip moved, yelled out, “Louis!” and flattened against the wall. Raylan kept going, went through the doorway to the study and put his shotgun on Harry in chains, Harry full length on the TV screen, turning from an open window.
Louis paused in the sea grape to look out at the ocean again. The boat seemed closer now, but not much. If it was Mr. Walker he was easing his way in, careful of reefs maybe, or sandbars. Louis turned and hurried across the yard, glancing at the pool hiding Bobby, went in the doors off the patio and through the sunroom to the study. Who was standing there waiting but the Chipper.
“Hey, you made it.”
Louis grinning at Chip till he saw Chip wasn’t looking at him but at the TV. Like hypnotized. Louis turned to look. What he saw was Harry sitting on his cot and the man-seeing him from behind, the man bent over fooling with the chains-but it was the man, the cowboy, no doubt of it, wearing his hat, the suit…
“You crazy?” Louis said. “You let him in the house?”
Chip turned to him all eyes. “We got to get out.”
“Leave Harry?” Louis said. “Leave the cowboy knowing all about us? Man, you are crazy.”
It seemed to wake him up some. Chip went to the chest saying, “The shotgun.”
“It’s out on the beach,” Louis said. “Shit, everything’s out on the beach,” and ran from the study through the sunroom. He heard Chip.
Chip yelling, “Where you going!”
Asshole. Louis wanting to stop and say, where you think? But not having the time. He knew where Chip was going for sure, in the pool. Him and the cowboy both.
Louis was across the yard and into the sea grape when he thought of the window in the hostage room, uncovered now, but didn’t turn around to look. Man, he had to move. Get the shotgun and the Browning-shit, dig it out of the hanging bag-and get back in time to do the cowboy in the room still bent over. Or coming down the stairs, see the man’s face. Say to him, Surprise, motherfucker. Boom.
Harry said to Raylan, standing at the window now, “You could open these with a screwdriver, for Christ sake. You don’t need the key.”
“What’d he tell you exactly?”
“He said be ready in five minutes, and that was about ten minutes ago. He had to take his stuff down first.”
“He didn’t have anything with him,” Raylan said, watching the date palms and clumps of sea grape at the edge of the property, the trees hiding the strip of beach.
“He said he’d be back for me.”
“I think that’s what he did,” Raylan said.
“Then why didn’t he come upstairs?”
It took Raylan maybe two seconds to decide what it meant and say, “He knows I’m here,” and start for the door, in a hurry to catch Louis outside.
Harry had time to say, “Wait a minute, will you?” He yelled at him, “Get me out of here!” too late.
Raylan was gone.
Harry’s gaze, coming away from the door, stopped on Raylan’s shotgun, lying on the other cot.
Louis stood in the path through the sea grape studying the house, taking in that upstairs window now free of plywood. Nobody up there watching that he could tell. He pumped the stubby shotgun to put one in the chamber. The Browning was stuck in his waist beneath his new black silk jacket. He needed to hurry, catch the man by surprise, but didn’t like having to cross the yard out in the open, exposed. So what he did was sprint across hunched over, like anybody looking out a window then wouldn’t see him. He came past the swimming pool, got to the patio and stopped, seeing one of the French doors come open.
The cowboy stepped out, nothing in his hands, and stood looking right at him. He said, “You don’t want to get shot, do you? Put down the gun. Drop it on that chair.”
Louis was where he’d stood when he did Bobby only turned around, facing the house instead of the swimming pool, a lounge chair next to him. He said, “What’d I do?”
“You have two years coming for that illegal weapon,” Raylan said. “I won’t discuss the kidnapping with you at this time. Put the gun down and come over here, your hands behind your head.”
“You telling me all that,” Louis said, “you don’t even have a gun pointing at me.”
“If I pull it,” Raylan said, “I’ll use it. You understand? You make a threatening move I’ll shoot you through the heart.”
Louis held the sawed-off pointed down and against his leg. He said, “Man, all I got to do is raise this thing.”
“I have to advise you, though, to put it down.”
Louis said, “We like in the movies, huh? The two hombres facing each other out in the street.”
“That’s the only place it ever happened,” Raylan said. “In the movies. You ever shot a man?”
Louis liked the way this was going, knowing he had the advantage, holding a shotgun he’d hardly have to aim. He said, “Lemme see. Yeah, I did, just the other day.”
That stopped the man. But he believed it, asking, “How close were you?”
“About like this far, me and you. Was Bobby, the Puerto Rican gunfighter. You know Bobby.”
The man’s suitcoat was open and he had his thumbs in his belt now in his U.S. marshal pose. Louis watched the man’s right hand.
He said, “You killed Bobby with that gun?”
“No, man, we drew on each other with pistolas, did the deed like you suppose to.” With his left hand Louis opened his coat enough to show the Browning. “Used one like this on him.”
Raylan said, “Now you want to try with the shotgun?”
“I don’t see no other way. Do you?”
The man raised his hat and set it on his head again, on his eyes, and it gave him a look-not just the hat but the man’s whole manner standing there-that made Louis hesitate and wonder did he have the advantage here or not. The man saying, “I’ll tell you once more to put down the gun.”
See? Like he thought he had the advantage.
The man saying, “You don’t put it down by the time I count to three I’ll shoot to kill. One…”
Louis thinking, Hey, shit, wait.
“Two.”
And saw the man’s hand come out of his coat with a pistol. Cheating, the man drawing on the count of two. Louis saw the muzzle hole looking at him the same way Bobby’s had, swung his gun up from his leg now, quick, and right then heard a shotgun blast that wasn’t from his, that got him to look up to see Harry with a gun barrel sticking out the window, the gun going off again with the smoke and noise it made and Louis felt the load hit him high in the chest to punch the breath out of him and slam him off his feet. He wanted to say come on, man, wait now, looking at sky, that’s all, the sky turned darker from what it was a minute ago, and thinking, The man never said three. Thinking, Was Harry. But how could it be? It was too quick, how it happened. He wanted to start over and do it right this time, no cheating. He was looking at sky, then looking at the man’s face in the hat looking down at him…
Raylan touched Louis’s throat and closed his eyes with the same two fingers.
Chip looked like he was approaching the edge of a cliff, coming within a few feet of Louis and turning away. Raylan sent him to get Harry.