Benedict held out the note. 'Read this five times and then let him go.'
'But I don't understand,' with disbelief all over his face. 'This man was endangering lives. You said we were to protect and . . . ' His voice trailed off, trying to think of all the things John Benedict had told him.
Sitting in his swivel chair, John Benedict thought, Explain that one if you can. He remembered the words better than the boy did. Now he wondered how he had kept a straight face when he had told him about rights, and the law, and seeing how the one safeguarded the other. That was John Benedict the realist. The cynic. He told himself to shut up. He did believe in ideals. What he had been telling himself for years, though having to close his eyes occasionally because he liked his job. Now he said to the boy, 'Do you like your job?'
And Jimmy Robles looked at him as if he did not understand.
He started to tell him how a man elected to a job naturally had a few obligations. And in a town like Arivaca, whose business depended on spreads like Remillard's and a few others, maybe the obligations were a little heavier. It was a cowtown, so the cowman ought to be able to have what he wanted. But it was too long a story to go through. If Jimmy Robles couldn't see the handwriting, let him find out the hard way. He was old enough to figure it out for himself. Suddenly, the boy's open, wondering face made him mad.
'Well, what the hell are you waiting for!'
Jimmy Robles pushed Tio's empty mescal bottle to the foot of the bed and sat down heavily. He eased back until he was resting on his spine with his head and shoulders against the adobe wall and sat like this for a long time while the thoughts went through his head. He wished Tio were here. Tio would offer no assistance, no explanation other than his biased own, but he would laugh and that would be better than nothing. Tio would say, 'What did you expect would happen, you fool?'
And add, 'Let us have a drink to forget the mysterious ways of the American.' Then he would laugh. Jimmy Robles sat and smoked cigarettes and he thought.
Later on, he opened his eyes and felt the ache in his neck and back. It seemed like only a few moments before he had been awake, clouded with his worrying, but the room was filled with a dull gloom. He rose, rubbing the back of his neck, and, through the open doorway that faced west, saw the red streak in the gloom over the line of trees in the distance.
He felt hungry, and the incident of the afternoon was something that might have happened a hundred years ago. He had worn himself out thinking and that was enough of it. He passed between the buildings to the street and crossed it to the adobe with the sign emiliano's. He felt like enchiladas and tacos and perhaps some beer if it was cold.
He ate alone at the counter, away from the crowded tables that squeezed close to each other in the hot, low-ceilinged cafe, taking his time and listening to the noise of the people eating and drinking. Emiliano served him, and after his meal set another beer--that was very cold--before him on the counter. And when he was again outside, the air seemed cooler and the dusk more restful. He lighted a cigarette, inhaling deeply, and saw someone emerge from the alley that led to his adobe. The figure looked up and down the street, then ran directly toward him, shouting his name. Now he recognized Agostino Reyes, who worked at the wagonyard with his uncle.
The old man was breathless. 'I have hunted you everywhere,' he wheezed, his eyes wide with excitement. 'Your uncle has taken the shotgun that they keep at the company office and has gone to shoot a man!'
Robles held him hard by the shoulders. 'Speak clearly! Where did he go!'
Agostino gasped out, 'Earlier, a man by the Supreme insulted him and caused him to be degraded in front of others. Now Tio has gone to kill him.'
Jimmy ran with his heart pounding against his chest, praying to God and His Mother to let him get there before anything happened. A block away from the Supreme he saw the people milling about the street, with all attention toward the front of the saloon. He heard the deep discharge of a shotgun and the people scattered as if the shot were a signal. In the space of a few seconds the street was deserted.
He slowed the motion of his legs and approached the rest of the way at a walk. Nothing moved in front of the Supreme, but across the street he saw figures in the shadowy doorways of the Samas Cafe and the hotel next door. A man stepped out to the street and he saw it was John Benedict.
'Your uncle just shot Sid Roman. Raked his legs with a Greener. He's up there in the doorway laying half dead.'
He made out the shape of a man lying beneath the swing doors of the Supreme. In the dusk the street was quiet, more quiet than he had ever known it, as if he and John Benedict were alone. And then the scream pierced the stillness. 'God Almighty somebody help me!' It hung there, a cold wail in the gloom, then died.
'That's Sid,' Benedict whispered. 'Tio's inside with his pistol. If anybody gets near that door, he'll let go and most likely finish off Sid. He's got Remillard and Judge Essery and I don't know who else inside. They didn't get out in time. God knows what he'll do to them if he gets jumpy.' 'Why did Tio shoot him?'
'They say about an hour ago Sid come staggering out drunk and bumped into your uncle and started telling him where to go. But your uncle was just as drunk and he wouldn't take any of it. They started swinging and Sid got Tio down and rubbed his face in the dust, then had one of his boys get a bottle, and he sat there drinking like he was on the front porch. Sitting on Tio. Then the old man come back about an hour later and let go at him with the Greener.' John Benedict added, 'I can't say I blame him.'
Jimmy Robles said, 'What were you doing while Sid was on the front porch?' and started toward the Supreme, not waiting for an answer.
John Benedict followed him. 'Wait a minute,' he called, but stopped when he got to the middle of the street.
On the saloon steps he could see Sid Roman plainly in the square of light under the doors, lying on his back with his eyes closed. A moan came from his lips, but it was almost inaudible. No sound came from within the saloon.
He mounted the first step and stood there.
'Tio!'
No answer came. He went all the way up on the porch and looked down at Roman. 'Tio! I'm taking this man away!'
Without hesitating he grabbed the wounded man beneath the arms and pulled him out of the doorway to the darkened end of the ramada past the windows. Roman screamed as his legs dragged across the boards. Jimmy Robles moved back to the door and the quietness settled again. He pushed the door in, hard, and let it swing back, catching it as it reached him. Tio was leaning against the bar with bottles and glasses strung out its smooth length behind him. From the porch he could see no one else. Tio looked like a frightened animal cowering in a dead-end ravine, more pathetic in his ragged and dirty cotton clothes. His rope-soled shoes edged a step toward the doorway, with his body moving in a crouch. The pistol was in front of him, his left hand under the other wrist supporting the weight of the heavy Colt and, the deputy noticed now, trying to keep it steady. Tio waved the barrel at him. 'Come in and join your friends, Jaime.' His voice quivered to make the bravado meaningless.
Robles moved inside the door of the long barroom and saw Remillard and Judge Essery standing by the table nearest the bar. Two other men stood at the next table. One of them was the bartender, wiping his hands back and forth over his apron. Robles spoke calmly. 'You've done enough, Tio. Hand me the gun.' 'Enough?' Tio swung the pistol back to the first table. 'I have just started.'
'Don't talk crazy. Hand me the gun.'
'Do you think I am crazy?'
'Just hand me the gun.'
Tio smiled, and by it seemed to calm. 'My foolish nephew. Use your head for one minute. What do you suppose would happen to me if I handed you this gun?'
'The law would take its course,' Jimmy Robles said. The words sounded meaningless even to him.
'It would take its course to the nearest cottonwood,' Tio said. 'There are enough fools in the family with you, Jaime.' He smiled still, though his voice continued to shake.
'Perhaps this is my mission, Jaime. The reason I was born.'
'You make it hard to decide just which one is the fool.'
'No. Hear me. God made Tio Robles to his image and likeness that he might someday blow out the brains of Senores Rema-yard and Essery.' Tio's laugh echoed in the long room.
Jimmy Robles looked at the two men. Judge Essery was holding on to the table and his thin face was white
