Through Darkest America

again and set his head swimming. He suddenly knew, and understood. His face went hot. Jigger peeled his trousers away and grinned foolishly, big hands searching between his legs. Then Klu was there, too, in another way, and the bile rose in Howie’s throat.

No matter what they did or how much it hurt, he was determined to fight them. Even if they kicked loose all his ribs he’d

Klu raised up, then, and met his eyes. Howie went cold all over. He saw something he’d never even dreamed of before. Nobody’d ever told him there were things like that, but it was clear as day in Klu’s one look—and he knew whatever they did he’d lie there and take it. That the other thing squatting dark and terrible in the man’s head was worse than anything that was happening to him now. It was all Klu was really waiting for; the screaming and kicking and fighting back. He wanted that a lot more than he wanted the other…

“Jigger! Klu!”

The two men straightened, pulled back from Howie like he’d turned to fire.

“Git your asses over here to me and do it quick! Move!”

Howie let out a breath, gripped his legs to stop the shaking. The man stood just past the cookfire, watching. His hair and beard might have stolen color from the flames; he was two heads shorter than the black-browed giants, and spare of frame—but his eyes said more than grit and muscle. They blazed out and seized the two, held them still, and scorched them soundly. If there was anger in either of the men, they held it close and did as they were told.

For a long time, the three squatted by the fire. Klu and Jigger had plenty to say, but it was the red beard who did most of the talking. It was likely about him, Howie figured, but he didn’t much care. He was glad for a minute to get back in his clothes. The effort hurt something awful, but he’d decided whatever the soldiers did next, he was by damn goin’ to die decent. And that meant having trousers on.

Finally, Klu and Jigger swung rain blankets over their shoulders and grumbled out of the cave. They were plain enough unhappy, but they went. Klu shot a dark look over his shoulder in Howie’s direction. The red beard spooned a big bowl of stew and walked back to him.

“You’re Burt, I reckon. I’m Pardo, if them two didn’t tell you. Hungry?” He held out the stew. Howie didn’t answer; he scooped up the bowl as soon as Pardo let it go and wolfed it down quickly.

“Hey—” Pardo grabbed his arm. “You git greedy you goin’ to lose it all, boy.”

Howie looked at him and tried to slow down, but it wasn’t easy. Pardo squatted with his own bowl and watched him finish. Up close, it wasn’t hard to see what set Klu and Jigger moving. Pardo was plain enough—raw- boned, homely, and pale-skinned—like a lot of folks Howie’d seen with red hair. But the eyes were something else again. Even when they weren’t blazing out angry, they looked right through you. Like the man behind ’em knew everything that was going on in your head.

Colonel Jacob’s eyes had been like that, too. Only different. Jacob had a meanness in him, and you could read it well enough. You couldn’t hardly tell about Pardo. Likely as not, he’d look fierce as lightning without caring one way or the other—and grinnin’ all lazy like right before he took a knife to your belly.

“Now,” said Pardo, wiping his beard, “I reckon you better tell me just who you are and what it is you’re doing here.”

“I’m here ’cause them two brought me here,” said Howie.

Pardo looked disappointed. “Boy, I’m asking plain questions. Likely, you can come up with some plain answers to match ’em.” He pulled Howie’s pistol from his own belt and balanced it in his palm. “You’re runnin’ hard, in a place you shouldn’t ought to be. Carrying soldier guns. Only you ain’t no soldier.”

Howie looked bewildered. “You’d sure know I’m not, if anyone would!”

“And why’s that?”

“Cause… cause you—you just would, is all!”

Pardo bit his lip thoughtfully. “Soldiers were after you. You got yourself caught, so you figure me an’ Klu and Jig- ger is soldiers, too.” He nodded to himself. “Well, it works out right, an’ I can see how your thinkin’ would go. Only you’re plain wrong, boy.” He grinned slightly. “About as wrong as you can be.”

Pardo could read his disbelief. “Take it however you like,” he told Howie. Only that don’t change it none. And seeing as we don’t have a lot of time for this kind of business, I reckon it’d be a good idea if you’d pretend that’s the way it is. Now I’m askin’ you again. What is it you’re doing here, and why are them soldiers after your hide?”

“But…”

“But, nothing,” Pardo said flatly. He looked straight at Howie. “Don’t spend no time thinking up answers that ain’t goin’ to do neither of us no good, all right?”

“Yes, sir.”

“That’s not too hard to understand, now is it?” “No, sir. It ain’t. I know what you’re saying.”

“Good. You an’ me are going to get along just fine, then.”

“You ain’t soldiers? For certain?”

Pardo looked at him. “Boy, I said we wasn’t!”

“Maybe you’re not. I just…”

Pardo raised a threatening brow.

“All right. I’m—from Bluevale. It’s…”

“I know where it is.”

“Well, that’s where I’m from.”

“What’s your pa do?”

“He runs a store.”

“A store. What kinda store? Feed store, whiskey…” “Knives,” said Howie. “Bone-handle knives. Stuff like that.”

“Knives…”

“Yes, sir. Like the one I got. Only I ain’t got it anymore, One of your men took it off me.”

Pardo nodded, and scratched under his chin. “Your name ain’t really Burt, is it?” He looked hard at Howie. “Don’t lie to me, now.”

“No, sir,” Howie looked down at his hands, then at Pardo. “It ain’t exactly Burt. It’s Jaimie. Jaimie Walters. When I thought you was soldiers…”

“All right.” Pardo held up a hand. “Let’s do some talkin’ about soldiers. Like why they might be spending a powerful lot of time chasin’ boys from Bluevale around the country when they got a lot better things to do.”

“I stole a horse from ’em,” Howie put in quickly, “ain’t that reason enough?”

Pardo frowned. “You didn’t have no horse with you…” “No, ’cause I run it too hard and it died on me.”

“Truth?”

“Truth, I swear!”

Pardo shook his head and made a face. “Lordy, what a waste. Horses ain’t easy to come by.”

“And some guns,” Howie added. “I stole guns, too. That’s why they was after me. They were some mad, I’ll tell you, and that’s why I was running so hard, and how come I had to use up the horse. I couldn’t do nothing else.”

Pardo studied him with no expression at all. “That’s what happened, is it?”

“Yes, sir. It truly is.”

“For certain?”

“Listen,” Howie insisted, “You wanted the truth and that’s it. I’m not lying!”

“Well, now, I never said you was, did I?” He smiled easily and got to his feet. “I never said you was telling the truth, either, or any big part of it, Jaimie—or Burt, or whichever. Most likely, you ain’t neither, but I’m not goin’ to worry over that. Pardo’s a fair man, as anyone’ll tell you, an’ what I’m going to do is give you a night to sleep off the hurt ’fore we fix up that shoulder, and then I’m going to fill up your belly some; and when you’re up to it, we’re all going to do a little quiet riding out of here, since you ain’t made it exactly a easy place to stay. An’ after that, I’m going to ask you to think real hard about who you are an’ why you’re running from them soldiers. And if I don’t care much for what I hear I’m going to give you back to Klu and Jigger for a couple days ’fore I cut your liver out personal.” He gave Howie a wide grin. “You git a little sleep now, y’hear?”