He did not hear Chama’s reply, which was only a whisper, but he tried to fathom what Chama said by studying his lips. As near as he could figure, Chama had said, “
“Wait.”
Wait for what? Zak wondered. What had Chama given Carmen, who was their prisoner?
Zak knew they were not far from Tucson. Another two hours ride, maybe less. But he was on his guard now. Something was going on between Chama and Carmen. And it was very puzzling at that early hour. He started walking back to his horse, and the two of them separated. Carmen walked around, stretching out first one leg, then the other. Chama ran a finger under his cinch, grabbed his saddle horn and rocked it to see if it was still on tight.
“What do you see down there?” Chama asked.
“Just where the two roads join up into a single road. Where the stage runs to the fort.”
“Yes,” Chama said.
“You and Carmen had words?”
“I spoke to her. She misses her husband. She is afraid.”
“She will see him soon enough. Tucson’s not far now.”
“What will you do when you get there?”
Carmen turned and drifted closer to the two men. The sky was bloodred, sprawling over the entire eastern horizon like a burgundy banner, the red deepening to a crimson stain.
“See Ferguson. Call him to account. See if Lieutenant O’Hara is a prisoner there.”
“You might be walking into something bad. Something dangerous.”
“If so, I’ve walked that way before, Chama.”
“Yes. I am certain that you have.”
“You don’t have to be with me.”
“I, too, wish to find the lieutenant.”
Zak knew Chama was lying. He spoke, but his words were empty, without conviction. Odd, he thought. Why would Chama lie about such a thing? And why now?”
“You don’t know O’Hara, do you, Jimmy?”
“No, I don’t know him.”
“Why should you care what happens to him?”
Chama shrugged, as if to get Zak off the subject of Ted O’Hara.
“I guess I don’t know you, either, Chama,” Zak said. He would push Chama a little, see what he had in his craw.
“How can one man really know another?”
“Sometimes a man has to make quick judgments,” Zak said.
“And how do you judge me, Zak?”
“I don’t even have to think about that one. You come out of nowhere, with a story about being a half-breed, and I can either accept that at face value or carry a big suspicion around with me.”
“And do you carry a big suspicion with you?”
Carmen walked over to the two men, stood some distance away from them. Zak noticed a slight bulge under the sash she wore around her waist. He couldn’t tell from its outline what it was, but it looked a lot like a small pistol, a Derringer maybe, or a Lady Colt, or one of those small pistols Smith & Wesson made for women.
“I didn’t,” Zak said, “until you started lying about O’Hara.”
“Lying?”
“It looks that way to me. I don’t think you give a damn about O’Hara, and I think if you did run into him, you’d probably shoot him dead on the spot.”
“What makes you think that?”
“A dog has reasons for running after something. I think you ran after me for a reason and it has nothing to do with the lieutenant or the Chiricahua.”
“A man can’t fight suspicion. It’s like a shadow when the sun is shining. It moves, but it will not go away.”
“Maybe you’d better make your intentions plain, Chama, before we go any farther down the road.”
Chama stiffened as if slapped. The skin on his face tautened and a hard look came into his eyes, like a shadow drifting across the sun.
“This is as far as you go, Cody,” Chama said. He cocked his right hand so it hovered just over the butt of his pistol. Zak saw Carmen jerk straight and her right hand brush against the top of her sash.
Zak looked at the two without making a move himself. Seconds ticked by, and it was so quiet, it seemed all three were holding their breaths at the same time.
“Maybe you’d better think about that for a minute, Chama,” Zak said evenly. “Words like you just said can shorten a man’s life real quick.”
