It was late afternoon, and stifling hot in the shed. They were all there, all eleven of them. Parker and Wycza and Phillips and Salsa and Elkins were sitting around the card table, a hand of seven-card stud half dealt in front of them, halted temporarily while they all listened to the helicopter. Grofield and his girl were sitting on an army cot in the corner, with Littlefield standing next to them; the three of them had been playing charades and Littlefield had stopped in the middle of the third word. Wiss and Paulus and Kerwin, the three safe men, had been shop-talking in a corner, but they too were now quiet.
Pop Phillips said, “It’s enough to make a man think of reforming.”
“Tire tracks,” said Parker. He looked over at Littlefield. “What about them?”
“Brushed away,” Littlefield told him. “All brushed away.”
Wycza said, “What about on the road going down, where I took the truck?”
“That’s all hard-packed,” Littlefield told him. “No tracks show.”
Paulus said, “I don’t like this place. Edgars set this place up, what do we know about it? We ought to get the hell out of here.”
Parker shook his head. “And go where? None of us knows this territory. The roadblocks’ll still be up.”
“I just don’t like this place. I want out of here tonight.”
Parker shrugged and looked at his hole cards. Five and seven of spades. Six of spades and queen of hearts up, so far. Three cards to go.
Two days to go. This was always the worst part, afterward. The best jobs were the ones you could walk away from and keep on going. But the jobs where you had to hole up for a while, they were bad for the nerves. Particularly with a crowd this size. Eleven people stuck in a big empty shed with no interior walls, no proper furniture, no way to get away from each other. A lot of jobs that had run sweet all the way through suddenly went sour at this point, after the tough part was supposedly all over. One or two people decided not to wait it out any more, took off, got themselves picked up and backtracked, and there was the law all of a sudden at the hideout door.
Paulus said, “We make the split tonight, and then I go. Littlefield? You’re supposed to ride with me, you want to come along?”
Littlefield seemed to consider it, and then said, “I don’t think so, Paulus. I think I’ll stay here and keep out of jail, if I can get a ride with somebody else.”
Salsa said, “Chambers was supposed to ride with me. You can take his place.”
“Thank you.”
Paulus said, “Well, I’mgoing. Tonight, right after the split.”
Parker, looking at his cards, said, “We don’t split tonight. We make the split day after tomorrow.”
Paulus said, “I’m taking myshare tonight.”
Wycza said, “Shut your face, Paulus, you ain’t going nowhere.”
“I don’t likethis place, I tell you!”
Grofield said, “Shut up a second. Listen. Is he coming back?”
The sound of the helicopter had faded to a murmur, but that murmur had remained unchanged as the copter circled the general area over the mining cut. Now the murmur was getting louder again.
Phillips said, “What does he think he seesout there?”
Nobody answered him. The murmur increased and then faded again, without having come close. It faded almost out of hearing, and then came back a little, and then faded again.
Salsa said, “He’s doing a grid-check, that’s all. A methodical search pattern. These sheds were a landmark for him, a hub, but now he’s got some other hub.”
“I hope you’re right,” said Phillips.
They listened some more. The helicopter was a distant hum, and then silence. Very briefly, a humming again, like a far-off bee, and then silence. Still silence. Silence.
Parker said, “Deal. He’s gone.”
Elkins picked up the cards and dealt another round. Parker got the jack of spades. He called Phillips’ bet without raising, and got the four of spades on the sixth card. He bumped small, fed Phillips’ large return raise, bet more heavily after the last card, and took the pot.
Paulus said, “I’m going tonight, and I’m going with my piece of the score.”
Parker and Wycza looked at each other. It was Wycza who said it: “You’re staying here, Paulus, and we’re making the split the day after tomorrow. Now shut your trap about it.”
Paulus shut his trap, but he looked mutinous.
Grofield guessed Littlefield’s charade: “All the world’s a stage, and all the men and women merely players.”
Phillips took the next pot. Raking it in, he said, “All things come to him who waits.”
“That’s the tough part,” Parker told him.
3
Parker came awake all at once to find Wycza’s hand on his shoulder. Wycza whispered, “Paulus.”
Parker nodded and got to his feet. The shed was full of the hushes of sleeping breath. Cots were placed every which way around the room, and men were sleeping on all of them.
