now. And if I ever see you this close again, I'll talk to you with a gun. You hear me!'
Nine days after that, R. C. Hassett, the county deputy assigned to Dos Mesas, was told of the disappearance of two of Ivan Kergosen's riders. On Saturday, two days before, they'd spent the evening in town. They started back home at eleven o'clock and had not been seen since.
Hassett thought it over the length of time it took him to strap on his holster and take a Winchester down from the wall rack. Then he rode out to Phil Treat's place. Entering the yard, he heard a hammering sound coming from the adobe. He saw that a new ramada had been constructed. As he reined toward the adobe, Phil Treat stepped out of the doorway, a Henry rifle under his arm.
'So you're rebuilding,' Hassett said. 'I heard about what happened.'
His eyes held on Treat as he stepped out of the saddle, letting his reins trail. He brushed open his coat and took a tobacco plug from his vest pocket, bit off a corner of it, and returned the plug to the pocket. His coat remained open, the skirt held back by the butt of his revolver. He had been a law officer for more than two dozen years and he was in no particular hurry.
'I wasn't sure you'd be here,' said Hassett. 'But something told me to find out.'
'You're not looking for me,' Treat said.
'No; two of Mr. Kergosen's boys.'
Treat called toward the adobe, 'Come out a minute!'
Hassett watched as Grady and Sandal appeared in the doorway, then came outside. Grady's bearded face was bruised, one eye swollen and half closed, and he limped as he took the few steps out to the end of the ramada shade. There was no mark on Sandal.
'These the men?' asked Treat. Hassett nodded.
'Ivan reported them lost.'
'Not lost,' Treat said. 'They quit him to work for me.'
'Without drawing their pay?' 'That's none of my business,' Treat answered. Hassett's gaze moved to the adobe. 'Grady, I didn't know you were a carpenter.'
The bearded man hesitated before saying, 'I'm swearing out a complaint on one Phil Treat.'
Hassett nodded, moving the tobacco from one cheek to the other. 'It's your privilege, Grady; though I'd say you got off easy.'
'This man forced us--' Grady began.
Hassett held up his hand. 'In my office.' He looked at Treat then. 'You come in, too, and state your complaint. I make out a writ and serve it on Ivan. The writ orders him to court on such and such a date. You're there to claim your wife with proof of legal marriage.'
'And if Mr. Kergosen doesn't appear?' asked Treat.
'He's no bigger than I am,' Hassett said. 'I see that he does next time.'
'But that doesn't calm his mind, does it?'
'That's your problem,' Hassett said.
Treat almost smiled. 'You said it as simply as it can be said.'
'All right,' Hassett said. 'You've been told.' He moved around his horse, stepped up into the saddle, then looked down at Treat again. 'Let me ask you something. How come Grady looks the way he does and there isn't a mark on Sandal?'
'I talked to Grady first,' Treat said.
'I see,' Hassett said. 'I'll ask you something else. How come Ivan didn't come here looking for these two?'
'I guess he doesn't know I'm still here.'
Hassett looked down at Treat. 'But he'll know it now, won't he?' He turned and rode out of the yard. That afternoon, after they had finished the inside repairs, Sandal and Grady were released. They rode out, riding double, and watching them, Treat pictured them approaching the great U-shaped adobe that was Mr. Kergosen's home, then dismounting and standing in the sunlight as Ivan came down the steps from the veranda.
Sandal would tell it: how they were ambushed riding back from Dos Mesas, how Treat had appeared in front of them, coming out of the trees with the Henry; how Grady's horse had been hit when they tried to run, and had fallen on Grady and injured his ankle; how they had been taken back to his adobe and forced to rebuild the ramada and patch the furniture and the stove. And Sandal would describe him as some kind of demon, a nagual who never slept and seldom spoke as he held them with a Henry rifle for two days and two nights.
Ivan Kergosen would turn from them, his eyes going to Ellis sitting on the shaded veranda, reading or sewing or staring out over the yard. She would not look at him, but he would detect the beginning of a smile. Only this, on the tenth day of her silence. You have a woman, Treat thought, picturing her. You have one and you don't have one. He thought of the time he had first spoken to her, the times they rode together and the time he first kissed her. And now they'll come again. But not Grady, because his ankle will put him to bed. Outwait an old man, he thought. Wait while an old man realizes he is not God, or God's avenging angel, God's right hand. Which could take no longer than your life time, he thought. He took dried meat, a canteen, a blanket, the Henry, and a holstered Colt revolver and went out into the corral to wait for them.
There were five that came. They reached Treat's adobe at dusk, spreading out as they approached it, coming at it from both sides of the corral, two of the riders circling the stable shed and the adobe before entering the yard. Sandal dismounted and went into the adobe. He came out with a kerosene lantern and held it as Pyke struck a match and lit it.
'Who's going to do it?' asked Sandal.
'You're holding the fire,' Pyke said.
'Not me.' Sandal shook his head.
'Just throw it in. Hit the wall over the bed.'
'Not me. I've done enough to that man.'
'What about what he did to you?'
'He had reason.'
Pyke stepped out of the saddle. He jerked the lantern away from Sandal and walked to the door. His hand went to the latch, then stopped.
'Layo!' Sandal's voice.
Pyke looked over his shoulder, saw Sandal not looking at him, but staring out toward the corral, and he turned full around, holding the lantern by the ring handle.
He saw Treat crossing the yard toward him. In the dusk he could not see the man's features, but he knew it was Treat. He saw Treat's hands hanging empty and he saw the revolver on his right leg. Now Sandal was moving the horses, holding the reins and whack-slapping at the rump of one to force both of them to the side. The horses of the three riders still mounted moved nervously, and the riders watched Treat, seeing him looking at Leo Pyke. Then, thirty feet from the ramada, Treat stopped.
'Leo, you tore my house down once. Once is enough.'
Pyke was at ease. 'You're going to stop us?' 'The last time you stated that you'd talk with a gun if I ever came close again.' Treat glanced at Sandal when Pyke said nothing. 'Is that right?'
'Big as life,' the Mexican said.
Treat's gaze returned to Pyke. 'Well?'
'You got me at an unfair advantage,' Pyke said carefully. 'A lantern in my hand. All the light full on me.'
'You came here to burn down my house,' Treat said, standing motionless. 'You're holding the fire, as you told Sandal. You've four men backing you and you call it a disadvantage.'
'Three men backing him,' Sandal said.
Beyond him one of the mounted riders said, 'This part of it isn't our fight.'
And Sandal added, 'Just Layo's.'
'Wait a minute.' Pyke was taken by surprise.
'You all work for Mr. Kergosen. He says run him out, we do it!'
'But not carry him out,' the one who had spoken before said. 'You threatened him, Leo; then it's your fight, not ours. And if you think he's got an unfair advantage, put the lantern down.'
