Through Darkest America

Howie stood where he was for a long moment, uncertain, which way to turn, what to do next. The silence was a fearsome thing. You could almost see it, rising on the morning heat. Where was everybody? Lord, were they all dead— raiders and drivers alike—except him and Jigger?

A few steps past the trail he came to a break in the trees and saw the dead scattered up and down the draw. He stood a while and looked at them curiously. Funny, they didn’t seem dead at all. It was more like they’d just fallen down drunk or something, and didn’t care to get up for a while. It wasn’t at all like Pa or his mother had—

Remembrance hit him hard, grabbing his belly and bringing bile to his throat. He turned away quickly and shut his eyes to the dead men.

Not anymore. He wouldn’t let it happen like that again!

The idea of just walking up and seeing one of the dead faces, knowing right then it was somebody he’d talked to. It was something he couldn’t do right now. Maybe not ever. What if it was old Jess, or Cory. He shook his head violently and moved back down the draw. He didn’t want to think about that. Anyway, it wouldn’t be Cory. Cory was all right. They were going to do things together, like finding treasure.

A man called out somewhere to his right. Another answered, closer by. Howie dropped to cover, listened a moment, then moved quietly through the grove, away from the voices. Finally, he went to ground and made a wide circle back past the trees, bringing him up behind where he figured the first man ought to be.

A dozen rebel riders were bunched up by the end of the draw, where the trail twisted into the woods past the main camp. They sat their mounts easy, tall men in earth colors squinting against the sudden brightness of morning. One looked off to the east, where the herd was bedded, and pointed. Another man nodded and rode away.

Howie’s heart leaped. Lordee, he hadn’t even thought about Aimie! What had happened to her? Was she dead, too, like the others? He decided she was probably all right. It didn’t make sense killing girls as pretty and willing as Aimie. The gamblers, now, and the merchants who’d followed them all the way from Big River—that was something else again.

A thought struck him. Maybe he could work his way around the herd, find Aimie, and get her away. And if Cory was still alive—he was ready, now, to admit there was a chance that he wasn’t, but if he was, though.. ..

Howie liked the idea. Pardo was likely dead and wouldn’t bother him. And Jigger would be hightailing it out, looking after himself. Maybe that’s what Jigger had been trying to tell him—in the only way Jigger’d be able to—that fighting back now wouldn’t do any more’n get him killed. That the best thing to do was just lie low and wait for a chance to get away.

Only one man who mattered, then, knew he was still alive—the raider who’d had the chance to kill him, and hadn’t. Howie was more than a little curious about that, but there wasn’t time to let it bother him. Maybe he looked like someone the man knew, a son, or a boy back home where he came from. It didn’t much matter. He was alive, and that’s what counted. He’d just keep quiet and easy, and wait for the right time to make his move.

The riders laughed about something and Howie raised up cautiously to look. Sun filled the clearing, now, and he could put faces on the rebel horsemen. A dark, bearded man joked with another. The second man drank hastily from his water jug and passed it back to his friend. Howie stared. He nearly came up out of the bushes. Pardo! By God, it was! And Jigger, behind him, and Klu—and a handful of other drivers sitting big as you please right square in the middle of the rebels. Laughing and kidding around like nothing had happened!

Howie shook his head. It didn’t make sense. Why, if Lathan had taken the herd…

Something cold as winter reached inside and held him. Breath stuck in his throat and faces in the clearing blurred behind hot tears. All he could see were the bright red ’kerchiefs Pardo and Klu and Jigger and the rebel soldiers wore ’round their sleeves. Blood-red, just like his own. Suddenly, he knew why Cory was dead and he was alive, and the understanding filled him with a shame and horror he couldn’t bear. The pain carried him into the clearing and brought the awful cry from his throat and the bone-handled knife to his hand. Riders turned to stare. A rebel soldier clawed for his pistol; another yelled something he didn’t hear.

It happened so quickly, Pardo could do no more than jerk his mount aside. Howie’s blade flashed—the horse screamed and pawed air as steel tore its flesh. Howie stabbed out again and Pardo’s boot met his face.

He went down hard, spitting blood and dirt, and came up clawing blindly for his knife. But Pardo was off his mount and all over him. He dragged Howie through the riders and tossed him back in deep brush outside the clearing.

Pardo stood back and looked at him a long time. His face screwed up in a tight wrinkle, like he was trying to decide what smelled bad.

“I jest can’t figure…” he started. “I jest… aw, shit,” he finished, “godamn you anyway!”

His eyes flashed dark fury at Howie. His fists trembled at his sides, like he was holding them there by sheer willpower.

“To think I was wondering where you was off to and if you was all right and everything. An’ you come on pullin’ a stunt like that.” He shook his head in disgust. “What I ought to do is put a godanm bullet ’tween your eyes and put you out of your—”

Howie went for him. He’d been waiting, watching the man’s hands. When the tension went out of his fingers and the fists uncurled, he kicked out hard between Pardo’s legs.

Pardo hardly moved. He took the blow off his thigh and deftly whipped a big boot under Howie’s guard. Howie doubled up and fought to keep his senses. He was sure he’d felt a rib go.

“You better hug dirt some,” Pardo told him wearily. “You done about all the movin’ around you can likely handle.”

“You killed ’em!” Howie yelled. “Cory and Jess and… and ever’one!” The tears came again and he didn’t even try to stop them. “Why, Pardo? Why’d you have to do that for? Ever’one!”

“Naw, now,” Pardo looked pained. “Not ever’one, damn it.” He sighed deeply, and rolled his eyes to the heavens. “Boy, listen…” He squatted down close to Howie. “What you got to understand is I didn’t have nothin’ ’gainst any of them fellers. They just wasn’t part of the business. Now, can’t everyone be, can they?”

“They didn’t do nothin’ to you,” Howie said fiercely. He pulled himself painfully up on one arm. “You didn’t have no call for that Pardo. I liked him. I liked him a lot!”

“Just shut up, now!” Pardo roared. He grabbed Howie’s hair and pulled him straight, so close Howie could see the bright flecks of anger in the man’s eyes. “Howie,” his voice was deadly calm, now, “you got a lot of learnin’ to do yet, and the first thing you better get through that head of yours is that a man ain’t got no friends but himself. And the only reason someone don’t do somethin’ to you is he ain’t thought of it yet or he don’t see no profit in the doing.”

“Cory…”

“Cory wasn’t no different than anyone else. A might slower’n some, maybe. Give him half a chance and he’d —”

Howie pulled away from him. “Pardo, you better do whatever you figure on doin’ to me. ’Cause I swear I’m goin’ to kill you. Any time I figure I can get the better of you.”

Pardo gave him a curious look, then a broad grin spread his whiskered features. “Why, God damn, I believe you will at that!”

“I mean it. I sure as hell do.”

“I know you do. I don’t reckon I’ll let it come between us… it’s a natural thing, one feller wantin’ to cut up another. ’Course, it ain’t real smart telling a man what you figure on doing to him. Not that I haven’t known what you was think- in’ since it come to you. Which weren’t today, by the way.”

He looked hard at Howie. “A man, now, he wouldn’t let me see that, Howie. But a boy hasn’t got enough smarts to know what’s good for him. ’Stead of fighting, he talks about what’s right and what ain’t… an ’bout poor old Cory, layin’ out there cold somewhere in the bushes—”

Howie struck out wildly and Pardo easily slapped him away.

“You’re the dirtiest son of a bitch there ever was, Pardo!” His whole body shook, and he couldn’t make it