"Where's your partner?" Frank Rellis said.
Bowers shrugged. "I don't know."
"Why don't you know?"
Bowers hesitated. "That's a funny question."
"I don't see anybody laughin'."
Bowers sat up straighter, slowly. "I said before I don't know where he is. I don't see how I can help you."
Rellis was holding a glass in his left hand. He raised it, finishing what he was drinking, then moved to the bar and brought the glass down hard on the polished surface. He was half watching Bowers as he did this and now he turned, leaning his elbows on the bar behind him. He stared for long seconds, staying in this position, motionless but relaxed, then he stirred. He began making a cigarette. Behind him, the bartender filled his glass with mescal. Rellis was hatless, hair hanging low on his forehead, and he needed a shave. It was evident that he had been drinking most of the morning: it showed in his eyes, though not in his voice. He was armed: a pistol hanging low on his right hip.
Rellis said, "You shouldn't a let him out of your sight. He'd probably run for home."
Bowers had looked away. Now his eyes returned to Rellis. "I'm not worried about that."
"What are you worried about?"
"Nothing."
"Does your partner know I'm here?"
Bowers shrugged. "I don't even know your name."
"Frank Rellis."
Bowers waited. "That doesn't mean anything to me."
"He never mentioned my name to you?"
"Why should he?"
"You're a goddamn liar if you say he hasn't."
It was in Rellis' mind, planted firmly, that Flynn was in Soyopa because he had followed him down after what happened in Contention, somehow learning of his having joined Lazair. Two men coming down to locate Soldado and his band made no sense at all. That was a cover-up. Lazair had a mule's ass for brains if he believed that. Rellis turned sideways to the bar and drank off part of the mescal.
It was going through his mind that this couldn't be better: the shavetail coming in alone…don't count the rurale…yeah, that was all right, too. Teach him a lesson he won't forget.
Bowers could see it. The tone of Rellis' voice and the right hand hanging free. He was angry, watching Rellis, seeing what he was doing, but he knew it was exactly what Rellis wanted. Jump up, drawing, at an insult…and not having a chance…so he sat still and let the anger start to pass off. His own pistol was wedged between his thigh and the chair arm rest, and the holster flap was snapped. And you had to miss the table edge bringing up the gun. Rellis has done this before, you haven't. The objections were there to calm him, to make him go slow, but they brought with them a fear, a small nervous fear, and planted it in the pit of his stomach.
His voice sounded loud in his ears as he said to Rellis, "I don't keep tab on him. If you want him, go out and start looking."
Rellis dragged on his cigarette and blew the smoke out slowly.
"What's your name?"
"Bowers."
"Bowers what?"
"Lieutenant Bowers."
Rellis' lips curled, grinning. "Well goddamn…" He said then, still grinning, "I was looking for you the other day. I came back from eatin' and they said you'd run off."
"You mean I'd left."
"You heard what I said."
"Why would I run away from you?"
Rellis lowered his head and drew on the cigarette, not taking his elbow from the bar. His head raised and the fingers holding the cigarette flicked out. The cigarette shot in a low arc and landed on the table in front of Bowers.
Bowers' eyes held on the man, feeling the heat on his face, wanting to do something, but…he was conscious of stillness…a sound close to him then: Santana mumbling an obscenity in his breath…and the sound of the screen door closing, but not seeing anyone come in because his eyes were on Rellis and Rellis, elbow on the bar, his hand hanging limp above his pistol butt, was returning the stare.
"Mostly," Rellis said now, "when I see a pissant like you I just step on him."
"Rellis-" It came unexpectedly, but without alarm.
Bowers' face relaxed, that was the effect, that suddenly, even without looking. But Rellis had to turn his head, sharply, and as he did the grin died on his face.
Flynn stood in from the doorway. He came on a few strides and stopped, his eyes on Rellis, his right hand unbuttoning his coat.
"Frank, I understand you've been looking for me."
Rellis wasn't loose now, though he was in the same position, elbows on the bar. Now he might have been nailed there.
"I…was just asking where you were."
"I heard you asking."
"Listen." Rellis straightened. "I want to get clear with you what happened in Contention. I might have talked out of turn in that barbershop-I'd been drinking and was anxious to ride out." He added quickly, "And that's what I did right after. I rode out a long ways to let my head clear, then camped by water and slept from early right through the night."
"And now you want to buy me a drink."
"That's right."
"You want to drink to what happened at the livery."
"Listen, I didn't have any part of that."
"What?"
"Shootin' that man."
"If you left Contention, how did you know about it?"
"News travels."
"All the way to Sonora?"
"It don't take long."
"Frank," Flynn said quietly, "you're a liar."
"You got no cause to say that."
Flynn moved toward Rellis. "It's said." He paused, watching Rellis' eyes. "I'm going outside. I'll expect to see you within the next few minutes…with your gun in your hand."
Rellis' face was stiff. Then it smiled, forcing the smile wide. "Now wait a minute. You're jumping to conclusions. I swear to God I wasn't near that livery!"
Flynn's eyes stayed on Rellis, though he did not speak. He stared, watching Rellis trying to appear unconcerned, and he became more confident because he knew then that Rellis was half afraid to fight. Rellis would bully Bowers, he thought, because Bowers was young, too new to have experience. Maybe Red could take him with his fists, but he wouldn't have gotten all the way out of the chair to try. This was different. This was something Rellis would want his own way or not at all, and Flynn thought: And you know how that would be. All right, let him have his way. Give him his chance.
He moved toward Rellis until only a stride separated them and suddenly, abruptly, he swung a fist up hard against Rellis' jaw. A brittle smacking sound, boot scuffing, Rellis hitting the bar, sliding back off balance, but not going down. An arm caught the bar edge. The hand moved down, but jerked back and he hung there, breathing with his mouth open, watching Flynn.
"I'll say it once more," Flynn said. "You're a liar. If you don't come out in five minutes I'll come back inside to kill you."
Flynn turned and moved toward the door. Now it's coming. Wait for Bowers. He was tensed. You'll hear it. One word. One word is all it will be and…
"Dave!"
He wheeled, drawing, thumbing the hammer, aiming with his eyes, firing. He fired once.
Rellis went to his knees, holding his chest, the uncocked pistol dropping from his other hand and he was dead as his face struck the floor.