Longarm searched for a shot. He yelled, “Shaw, give up, dammit! You can’t get out!”
Then he heard the sound of glass breaking and saw legs and feet as Shaw dove through the broken window. Longarm got up, cursing, and ran to the end of the house. He didn’t know if Shaw had armed himself or not. He hesitated for a second, and then peered around the back corner of the house. He saw Shaw suddenly come running out through some door or gate at the back of a kind of courtyard. Longarm yelled, “Shaw!” He stepped out into the open. But before he could fire, Shaw suddenly jerked open the door to a small shed and jumped inside. Longarm had not seen a gun in his hand, but he’d had only a fraction of a second before Shaw had disappeared. Crouched, his gun forward and still cocked, Longarm advanced toward the little shed. He figured for certain that Shaw must have gone in the hut to get a gun of some kind. He wished there was more shelter.
Out of the corner of his right eye he saw a face and head poke out the door of what he’d decided was someone’s living quarters or a bunkhouse of some kind. He turned his revolver in that direction and the head disappeared.
He stopped about five yards short of the shed. He crouched down and said, “Jack, you are in there and I know it. I can see all around that little chicken coop. Now you come out or I am gonna go to testing that wood you are hiding behind and see how thick it is. I don’t think it will stop a bullet, Jack.”
For a moment he didn’t think he was going to get a response, but then Shaw said, “Longarm? What in hell are you doing here? This is Mexico!”
“I know that, Jack. I came to get you. Figured you got lost somehow.”
Shaw’s voice was bewildered. “You can’t take me, Longarm. This is Mexico. What the hell is the matter with you?”
“I know it’s Mexico, Jack. And you know it IS. And you can complain to the authorities when I take you back to Arizona. They might turn you loose.”
There was a half a moment of silence. Shaw said finally, “Aw, hell, Longarm, why don’t you forget about me. Let it go.”
“You know that ain’t gonna happen, Jack. And this time I’m going to have to get the money and take it back.”
Shaw laughed. “That’s still got your back up, don’t it, Custis. That I lied to you about the money.”
“Jack, you better come on out. One of these Mexicans is liable to get brave and you wouldn’t want that on your conscience.”
“According to you I ain’t got one. What you got in mind, Longarm?”
“I got Arizona in mind.”
“I thought we was going to New Mexico.”
“I done tried that. You didn’t want to go to New Mexico. You run off.”
There was a silence. “Longarm, they liable to hang me in Arizona.”
“That ain’t none of my affair, Jack. Like I say, I just catch ‘em.”
“I hear they tie your hands behind your back when they hang you. I couldn’t stand that.” Longarm said, “I understand you ain’t got long to worry about it, Jack. Now listen, I’m getting worried about you out in this cold with nothing on but the bottoms to your long handles. I reckon I’m going to have to test those walls, Jack.” He got up and eased around to his left so he could see what was behind the shed. There was nothing. He took a few steps to his right. The shed was a dead end if you were inside.
Shaw said, “I hear they hold you pretty tight when you are waiting to be hung. I hear they pen you up pretty good in a tight little cell.”
“You ought not to pay so much attention to what you hear, Jack. You coming out or not?”
There was a pause. “No deal on New Mexico, Longarm? It ain’t ten miles to the territory line.”
“Not again, Jack. Naw, I reckon it’ll have to be Arizona.”
Shaw laughed. “I don’t reckon you’d put them same manacles back on me, would you, Custis?”
“Never can tell. Got about another half minute, Jack. I’m getting nervous.”
A few beats passed, and then the door of the shed flew open and Jack Shaw came charging straight for Longarm. He had something black in his right hand. Longarm yelled, “Stop! Hands up!”
Shaw did not pause. He kept coming. In an instant he was within two strides of Longarm. Almost sorrowfully, Longarm aimed and pulled the trigger. His revolver boomed and Shaw stopped as if grabbed by a giant hand and then went backwards; he staggered and then fell on his back.
Longarm walked cautiously to his side, cocking his revolver as he did. Shaw looked up. There was a slight grin on his face. He lifted his right hand. He was holding a piece of kindling wood, blackened from a fire. Shaw said, as the stick fell out of his hand, “Fooled you, Custis. Made you shoot.”
Longarm knelt by him. There was a hole on the right side of his chest. Little bubbles of pink froth churned around it. He was lung-shot.
Longarm grimaced. He said, “I thought you said you wouldn’t do it this way, Jack. When I was telling you about it, you said it wasn’t for you.” Shaw coughed. He said, his voice growing faint and hoarse, “Wasn’t no guilt involved, Custis. Want you to un’nerstan’ that. No guilt. Couldn’t take the idea of bein’ pent up, Custis. Un’erstan’?”
“I guess so, Jack.”
“Ain’t ‘bout guilt or no guilty conscience.”
“If you say so, Jack.”
“You’d of had to bound my hands ‘hind my back, Custis. Wouldn’t you?”
