Shoot Him On Sight

passed them around. Smoke swirled through the air above the table, while we lingered over tiny glasses of aguardiente, with a mild pineapple flavor permeating the smooth liquor.

Tawney smiled across the table. 'How's your place look, Johnny?'

'I'm still dizzy, without understanding the setup.'

A deep laugh rumbled in Mateo's chest. 'We try to live well, Senor Cardinal.'

'Not 'senor', please,' I told him, 'Just Johnny.'

Mateo nodded. Then he turned to Tawney. 'You are certain?'

'I'm certain,' Jeff nodded.

'That is excellent, then,' old Mateo said, grizzled head nodding. 'An obligation too long unfulfilled is not as God wishes, and I am grateful.' He extended his hand to me. 'It is good to have you here, at last.'

I'd shaken hands with him when we first met and liked the feel of his grip. Now he seemed to put even more into it. It was the sort of thing that almost brings tears to a man's eyes, and for a few minutes I couldn't speak. Then I managed, 'For the love of God, Jeff, what is this all about?'

He grinned widely. 'If you're through, let's go to the bunkhouse and say hello to the crew.'

I followed him out, across the ranch yard, not missing as we passed, a corralful of mighty good-looking horses. Even in the night gloom, with only light shining from the bunkhouse, I could see that much.

Smoke still curled from a chimney at the end of the cookhouse, adjoining the bunkhouse, when we entered the long room, with double bunks at one wall and a long table at the center. There were about a dozen vaqueros—buckaroos, cowhands—seated about the room. One man strummed a guitar, a few played cards. One was plaiting a horsehair throw rope. Oil lamps, suspended to the wall, gave light. All talking ceased when we entered and the men, after speaking courteously to Tawney, looked curiously at me.

'Amigos—friends,' Tawney introduced me. 'My amigo, Juan Cardinal, who has required all too long to arrive. But now he is here, he will share our work and our pleasures. Give him the loyalty you have given me. That is a request, not an order. Also, it is my hope, as it is the hope of Mateo Vinanda.'

I said in an aside to Tawney, 'Good Lord, Jeff, I hope you know what you are doing.'

'I know what I'm doing. It's okay,' he replied. 'I'll explain, later, and you'll see I'm right.'

I found it hard to face the white-toothed smiles directed my way, embarrassed as I was, and unable to figure out the business. Well, for the moment, I'd play along with Jeff's idea, until things came clearer. Me, half-owner of the Box-CT. The whole business was crazy, as I saw it. For an instant I got to thinking I was the sucker in some sort of come-on swindle, then I banished that thought. Tawney appeared to be too sincere, as were the others. I circulated through the bunkhouse, shaking hands, catching names, here and there. From everyone's attitude I suspected that old Mateo had already prepared them for some sort of partial change of ownership, but it still didn't make sense to me.

About that time old Mateo entered, laughing, bearing a gallon jug of wine, to celebrate my arrival, as he put it. The jug circulated the room. We didn't bother with glasses, and it was soon finished. I could see they were all pleased I could speak Spanish. It sort of helped things, as if I were a blood brother, or something. And then I began to get the queerest sensation as though I'd come home. Home? Hell, I couldn't figure it out.

I said to Tawney, at last, 'C'mon, let's get out of here and get some place where we can talk, Jeff. This suspense is driving me loco.'

We said good-night and adios and I finally escaped, much as I'd have enjoyed staying and getting better acquainted with my crew. My crew? That too sounded crazy to me.

We returned to the big living-room with the easy chairs before a wide stone fireplace where mesquite roots burned. There was a small table between the chairs and a bottle of Old Crow and glasses stood waiting where Mama Benita had put them. Jeff Tawney filled the glasses as we settled down. We both rolled cigarettes.

'Now, dammit, out with it,' I laughed.

'In a minute. But first, satisfy my curiosity.'

So I had to hold a tight rein on my feelings, while I told him the whole story and the reason why I'd been forced to leave Tenango City after extorting the money from old Skinflint Kirby. Jeff listened in silence, while the mesquite roots snapped and flared in the fireplace. 'And that,' I concluded, 'believe it or not, is my only crime. Nor am I a tough gun-fighter. Nor did I ever kill anyone. Matter of fact, my knees start quaking every time I get in a jam, and I dread the day when I'm forced to fire in self-defense, because I haven't any speed on the draw. Never before had any reason to work up speed.'

'Johnny,' Jeff laughed softly, 'you've got a whale of a nerve coming to Onyxton, then. But I never saw a better act than you staged in the Onyx this afternoon. You really had that place bluffed.'

'Sure, it was an act,' I said earnestly, 'an act prompted by fear. It was just that I've run long enough, and I'm tired of running, and that was the only way I knew to hide my fear.'

'Pretty damn successful, I'd say,' he chuckled. He sat staring into the fireplace. I judged him five or six years older than I was, and I was ready to accept his more mature judgment.

'Do you know of anything else I could have done?' I asked.

'I'd state here and now you've done plumb elegant. Y'know, when I saw that reward bill, with the name Cardinal on it, I wondered if it could be the same man. Then I decided against it, though it's an unusual surname. Why did I decide against it? Well, because of what I knew, I couldn't see any son of Ethan Dameris Cardinal going bad and becoming a gunman wanted by the law.'

'What do you know about my father?' I demanded.

'I saw him once, though I've not much memory of him, being just a small younker at the time. He was a very good friend of my father. My mother had died and to forget his grief my father had headed down into Mexico to prospect for gold, with Mateo Vinanda. Likely he didn't look in the right places; anyway, he didn't have any luck. So there I was, being dragged around the country by Dad, and when he couldn't find anybody to take care of a small child, he finally hired Mateo to take care of me, and Mateo has been like a father to me since my own dad died. And—'

'But where did you ever see my father?' Excitement was mounting.

'Hold your hawsses a mite. I'll get to it. Eventually, the three of us—Dad, Mateo and me—worked up Mexico until we neared the U.S. line. Dad and Mateo both knew cattle, and they decided the best thing to do would be to go back punching. This country hereabouts looked likely to 'em, but there weren't any ranches here then, so they were casting around, figuring where they could get some money to buy a handful of cows for a start.'

Jeff paused to roll another cigarette. 'Just about that time they were jumped by about a dozen Mescalero Apaches. Mateo got a scratch from an arrow, but we managed, with Dad toting me, to hole up behind a mound of rocks. I don't remember all this, of course, but I do have a sort of memory of my Dad and Mateo shooting guns, and the sweat running down their faces, getting grimier and grimier from powder-smoke, and a lot of crazy yelling and hoofbeats from beyond our rock-shelter. I don't remember being scared or anything. Too young to realize, I suppose. Worst of it was, Dad and Mateo were running shy on lead and powder, and one of our hawsses had been killed.'

Jeff paused a moment. 'Y'understand, I got all this from my Dad in later years. Things were looking right bad for us, though Dad and Mateo had managed to kill three of the Apaches. About that time your father was riding through the country looking for likely land buys. He'd come down this way and stumbled on the small war taking place between us and the Indians. It didn't take him long to size up the situation and he unloaded some rifle shots so fast that he killed two Apaches and wounded a third. So, the Apaches, deciding this wasn't their day to take scalps, took off in a hurry. I just have a faint memory of your Dad, a tall man with hair like yours, and a big booming laugh. Once he picked me up and carried me on his shoulders, and I remember the ground below looked miles away—'

He broke off. 'I reckon I'm not getting to the point very fast, am I? Anyway, your father and my dad and Mateo— and me—drifted around this country a couple of weeks, getting acquainted and looking at likely acreage. Our fathers became right friendly. When Dad brought your father here, they figured this was a place to start an outfit. Dad had been hoping to get a job rodding the spread when it was set up. Instead, your father took them up to Albuquerque, shot off a few telegrams. The upshot was—'

Tawney paused. 'I suppose you know your dad was right well fixed.'