the rifle cracked and sang in the open stillness. Eugene's hands clawed at his face and he dropped without uttering a sound.
McKelway reloaded quickly. He had got one of them, he was sure of that. And it hadn't looked like the boy, else he wouldn't have fired. Jim Mission told him it was good shooting. After that McKelway did some figuring.
From the crest of the ore tailing in front of them, they'd be only about fifty yards from the hut. The only trouble was, they'd be out in the open. He told Jim Mission about it and he said why not go up after dark; then if they didn't see anything they'd still be close enough to shoot at sounds. McKelway said he was just waiting for Jim to say it.
There was no poker the rest of the afternoon.
Deke had dragged Eugene by his boots out of the doorway and placed him against a side wall with his hands on his chest, not crossed, but pushed inside his coat. He took the money out of Eugene's pockets six thousand dollars and laid it on the table. Then he sat down and looked at it.
Rich Miller pressed close to the wall by the window, studying the slope, wondering where the man with the rifle was. His eyes hung on the weathered shaft scaffolding, and now he wasn't so sure if there'd be any fun.
Once Deke said, 'Now it's starting to show itself,' but they didn't bother to ask him what.
Sonny Navarez stayed by a window. He would look at Eugene's body, but most of the time he was watching the dying sun. Rich Miller noticed this, but he figured the Mexican was thinking about God or heaven or hell because there was a dead man in the room. Sonny had crossed himself when Eugene was cut down, even though he would have killed him himself a minute before.
The sun was below the canyon rim, though the sky still reflected it red and orange, when Sonny Navarez pulled his pistol.
Deke was raising the bottle. He glanced at the Mexican, but only momentarily. He took a long swallow then and extended the bottle to Rich Miller. But the boy was staring at Sonny Navarez.
Deke's head turned abruptly. Sonny's long barreled .44 was pointing toward them.
Deke took his time putting down the bottle. He looked up again. 'What's the idea?'
The Mexican said, 'When it is dark I'm leaving.'
Deke nodded to the pistol. 'You think we're going to try and stop you?' 'You might. I am taking the money.'
'You're wasting your time.'
Sonny Navarez shrugged. 'Que va it's worth a try. From no matter where you die, it's the same distance to hell.'
'You wouldn't have a chance,' Rich Miller said.
'There's somebody out there close with a rifle dead on this place.'
'For this money a man will brave many things,' the Mexican said. 'And I am not leaving until dark.' Then he told them to face the wall, and when they did, he picked up the bundles of oversize bills and stuffed them inside his jacket.
Rich Miller said, 'Do you think you'll get through?'
'Probably no.'
Deke said, 'You're a damn fool.'
'If I get out,' Sonny Navarez said, 'I will visit a priest and give his church part of the money, and not rob again.'
'It's too late for that,' Deke said. 'It's too late for anything.'
'No,' the Mexican insisted. 'I will be very sorry for this crime. With the money that is left after the church I will buy my mother a house in Hermosillo and after that I will recite the rosary every day.'
Deke shook his head. 'Things are going the way they are for a reason we don't know. But nothing you can do will change it.'
The Mexican shrugged and said, 'Que va '
It was almost full dark when Sonny Navarez moved to the doorway. He stood next to the opening and holstered his pistol and lifted his carbine, which was there against the wall. He levered a shell into the breech and stepped into the opening, crouching slightly. He hesitated, as if listening, then turned to the two men at the table and nodded. As he was turning back, the rifle shot rang in the dim stillness and echoed up canyon. Sonny Navarez doubled, sinking to his knees, and hung there momentarily, as if in prayer, before falling half through the doorway.
Later, McKelway and Mission climbed down from the ore tailing and reported to Freehouser.
The marshal said three out of five men wasn't bad for one day's work. They were sitting on the porch, cigarettes glowing in the darkness, when the rider came in from Asuncion. He told them that Elton Goss was going to pull through.
Freehouser laughed and said, well, he guessed the age of miracles was back. A good one on the doctor, eh?
The news made everybody feel pretty good, because Elton was a nice boy. McKelway mentioned that it would also make it a whole lot easier on Rich Miller.
Looking out into the night, the boy could just barely make out the shapes of the mine structures and the cyanide vats, which Deke had told him held 250 tons of ore and had to be hauled all the way across the desert from Yuma. How did he say it?
The ore'd pour into the crusher jaws and rollers that'd beat it almost to powder then pass into the vats and get leached in cyanide for nine days. Five pounds of cyanide to the ton of water, that was it.
He thought, What's the sense in remembering that?
It's a strange thing, Rich Miller thought now, how in two days a man can change from a thirty a month rider to an outlaw and not even feel it. Al most like the man has nothing to do with it. Just a rope pulling you into things.
He remembered earlier in the day, being eager, looking forward to doing some long range shooting, but seeing the situation apart from himself. He wondered how he could have thought this. Now there were two dead men in the room that was the difference.
Later on, he got to thinking about Eugene breaking the poker game and about the Mexican. It occurred to him that both of them, for a short space of time, had all of the money, and now they were dead. Ford had taken the biggest cut, and he was dead. Toward morning he dozed and when he awoke, Deke was sitting, leaning against the wall below the other window.
Deke was silent and Rich Miller said, for something to say, 'When they going to try for us?'
'When they get good and damn ready.'
Rich Miller was silent and after a while he said, 'We could take a chance and give up you know, not like surrenderin' with the idea of gettin' away later on when they ain't a hundred of 'em around.'
'You know what I told you.'
'But you ain't dead sure about that.'
'I'd say I'm a little older than you are.'
Rich Miller did not answer. Damn, he hated for someone to tell him that. As if old men naturally knew more than young ones. Taking credit for being older when they didn't have anything to do with it.
'What're you thinking about?' Deke said.
'Giving up.'
Deke exhaled slowly. 'You saw what happens if you go through that door.'
'There's other ways.'
'Like what?'
'Wavin' a flag.'
'You wave anything out that door,' Deke said quietly, 'I'll kill you.'
He's crazy, Rich thought. He's honest to God crazy and doesn't know it. Deke had butted the table against the wall under the window and now they sat opposite each other, Deke on one side of the window, the boy on the other. Deke had divided the eight thousand dollars between them and said they were going to play poker to keep their minds from blowing away. He placed his pistol on the edge of the table.
They stayed fairly close at first, each winning about the same number of pots, but after a while the boy began to win more often. In the quietness he thought of many things like not being able to give himself up and then
