like a mallet.
He was dazed and there was a stinging throbbing over the entire side of his face, but he was conscious of Ward leaning close to him and he heard the words clearly. 'I'll kill you. That reason enough?'
After that he was not conscious of time. His eyes were closed and for a while he dozed off. Then, when he opened his eyes, momentarily he could remember nothing and he was not even sure where he was, because he was thinking of nothing, only looking at the chipped and peeling adobe wall and feeling a strange numbness over the side of his face.
His hand was close to his face and his fingers moved to touch his cheekbone. The skin felt swollen hard and tight over the bone, and just touching it was painful. He thought then: Are you afraid for your own neck? Of course I am!
But it was more than fear that was making his heart beat faster. There was an anger inside of him. Anger adding excitement to the fear and he realized this, though not coolly, for he was thinking of Ward and Mary Ellen and himself as they came into his mind, not as he called them there.
Ward had said, Roll off the cot.
All right.
He heard the back door open and instantly Ward muttered, 'You awake?' He turned his head to see Ward sitting on the edge of the bunk, his hands at his sides gripping the mattress. He heard the footsteps coming up the hall.
'I'm awake.'
'Soon as he opens the door,' Ward said, and his shoulders seemed to relax.
As soon as he opens the door.
He heard Cass saying something and a key rattled in the lock. The squeak of the door hinges---
He groaned, bringing his knees up. His heart was pounding and a heat was over his face and he kept his eyes squeezed closed. He groaned again, louder this time, and doing it he rolled to his side, hesitated at the edge of the mattress, then let himself fall heavily to the floor.
'What's the matter with him!'
Four steps on the plank floor vibrated in his ear. A hand took his shoulder and rolled him over. Opening his eyes, he saw Cass leaning over him.
Suddenly then, Cass started to rise, his eyes stretched open wide, and he twisted his body to turn. An arm came from behind hooking his throat, dragging him back, and a hand was jerking the revolver from its holster.
HANLEY MILLER tried to push away from the bars to bring up the shotgun. It clattered against the bars and on top of the sound came the deafening report of the revolver. Hanley doubled up and went to the floor, clutching his thigh.
Cass's mouth was open and he was trying to scream as the revolver flashed over his head and came down. The next moment Ward was throwing Cass's limp weight aside. Ward stumbled, clattering over the tray in the middle of the floor, almost tripping.
Given saw Ward go through the wide-open door. He glanced then at Hanley Miller lying on the floor. Then, looking at Ward's back, the thought stabbed suddenly, unexpectedly, in his mind---
Get him!
He hesitated, though the hesitation was in his mind and it was part of a moment. Then he was on his feet, moving quickly, silently, in his stocking feet, stooping to pick up the sawed-off shotgun, turning and seeing Ward near the door. Now Given was running down the hallway, now swinging open the door that had just closed behind Ward.
Ward was on the back-porch landing, starting down the stairs, and he wheeled, bringing up the revolver as the door opened, as he saw Pete Given on the landing, as he saw the stubby shotgun barrels swinging savagely in the dimness.
Ward fired hurriedly, wildly, the same moment the double barrels slashed against the side of his head. He screamed as he lost his balance and went down the stairway. At the bottom he tried to rise, groping momentarily, feverishly, for his gun. As he came to his feet, Pete Given was there--and again the shotgun cut viciously against his head. Ward went down, falling forward, and this time he did not move.
Given sat down on the bottom step, letting the shotgun slip from his fingers. A lantern was coming down the alley.
Boynton appeared in the circle of lantern light. He looked from Obie Ward to the boy, not speaking, but his eyes remained on Given until he stepped past him and went up the stairs.
A man stooped next to him, extending an already rolled cigarette. 'You look like you want a smoke.'
Given shook his head. 'I'd swallow it.'
The man nodded toward Obie Ward. 'You took him by yourself?'
'Yes, sir.'
'That must've been something to see.'
'I don't know--it happened so fast.' In the crowd he heard Obie Ward's name over and over--someone asking if he was dead, a man bending over him saying no...someone asking, 'Who's that boy?' and someone answering, 'I don't know, but he's got enough guts for everybody.'
Boynton appeared on the landing and called for someone to get the doctor. He came down and Given stood up to let him pass. The man who was holding the cigarette said, 'John, this boy got Obie all by himself.'
Boynton was looking at Ward. 'I see that.'
'More'n I would've done,' the man said, shaking his head.
'More'n most anybody would've done,' Boynton answered. He looked at Given then, studying him openly. He said then, 'I'll recommend to the judge we drop the charges against you.'
Given nodded. 'That'd be fine.'
'Anxious to get home to your wife?'
'Yes, sir.'
For a moment Boynton was silent. His expression was mild, but his eyes were fastened on Pete Given's face as if he were trying to read something there, some mark of character that would tell him about this boy.
'On second thought,' Boynton said abruptly, 'I'll tear your name right out of the record book, if you'll take a deputy job. You won't even have to put a foot in court.'
Given looked up. 'You mean that?'
'I got two jobs open,' Boynton said. He hesitated before adding, 'Look, it's up to you. Probably I'll tear your name out even if you don't take the job. Seeing the condition of Obie Ward, I wouldn't judge you're a man who's going to be pressured into anything.'
Given's face showed surprise, but it was momentary, his mouth relaxing into a slow grin--almost as if the smile widened as Boynton's words sank into his mind--and he said, 'I'll have to go to Dos Cabezas and get my wife.'
Boynton nodded. 'Will she be happy about this?'
Pete Given was still smiling. 'Marshal, you and I probably couldn't realize how happy she'll be.'
The Kid
I REMEMBER LOOKING out the window, hearing the wagon, and saying to Terry McNeil and Delia, 'Here comes Repper.' And when the wagon came even with the porch, I saw the boy. He was sitting with his legs hanging over the end-gate, but he came forward when Max Repper motioned to him.
That was the first time any of us laid eyes on the boy, and I'll tell you frankly we weren't positive at first it was a boy, even though Max Repper referred to a 'him,' saying, 'Don't let his long hair fool you,' and even though up close we could see the features didn't belong to a girl. Still, with the extent of my travel bounded by the Mogollon Rim country, central Sonora, the Pecos River, and the Kofa Mountains--north, south, east, and west respectively--I wasn't going to confine my judgment to this being either just a boy or a girl. There are many things in the world I haven't seen, and the way Terry McNeil was keeping his mouth closed I suspect he was reserving
