Bowers smiled, though he was thinking: Damn, how you have to listen to old men and smile just because they are old men. As if a few more years just naturally makes them wiser. Then he said, because he had to say something, "I hope so, Mr. Madora. I do hope so." And then, remembering, Bowers said, "Where's the colonel?"
Flynn stepped aside and nodded into the trees and followed Bowers as he walked in among the pines.
"My God-"
Flynn said nothing. And suddenly, watching Bowers' face, he was more than glad he had done this-seeing the young lieutenant looking at a soldier's death-no, more than that, looking at a colonel of cavalry killed in action. When a colonel dies, it's a bigger thing, Flynn thought. No matter how he dies.
Bowers was saying, "This will head the report," his voice heavy with respect, "for it isn't often that a colonel dies this way."
Flynn looked at him quickly, but only awe and respect were on Bowers' face and Flynn said, "No, thankfully, it isn't often."
Madora came up behind them. He glanced at Flynn after looking down at Deneen, but he said nothing to him. Then to Bowers, "I see Soldado survived…him and about two dozen others. Counting his women up in the hills somewhere, you'll have about seventy people all told. Red, how do you propose to get 'em to San Carlos?"
"I was thinking of talking Santana into helping as far as the border…have cavalry come down to meet us there." Bowers smiled. "Hell, Joe, all the fight's out of those Mimbres. The three of us could take them up, for that matter."
"You mean the two of us."
"Two?"
"David here's talking about doing some prospecting."
Flynn smiled, but he didn't deny it.