The Bounty Hunters

"It could get him a promotion."

"It could get him killed, too. But he thinks it's more a job for a truant officer than a cavalryman. He said to Deneen, 'Sir, isn't bringing an old Indian back more a task for the reservation agent?' "

"Did you tell Bowers what it's all about?"

"He didn't ask me."

Fly

"You ought to be used to that; you've worked for Deneen before," Madora said. "His naming Bowers doesn't make sense…though he must have a reason. But it's plain why he's sending you."

"Why?"

"You know as well as I do. He wants to make you quit again. You've done it twice before. Maybe he thinks one more will finish you for good."

"What do you think?" Fly

"I don't blame you for anything you did before. Deneen's Department Adjutant…with more weight than you got. When he says dance, you dance, or else go listen to a different tune. I wouldn't blame you too much if you backed out of this one. Only I think it can be done. I think you just might be able to drag Soldado Viejo-the old Indian, as the kid calls him-back to San Carlos."

"Two of us?"

"Two make less noise."

"Give me a better reason."

"Because I taught you what you know. And I'll give you one more," Madora added. "Because you might be mad enough to do this one just so you can throw it back in Deneen's face."

Fly

"Maybe I should."

"Maybe you volunteered"-Fly

Madora shook his head. "I was wrong. You'll last down there about a day and a half."

"I've lasted ten years so far…plus three in the war when I didn't see you around."

"I was watchin' the frontier for you sword-clickin' bastards back East."

"About three thousand miles from Lee."

Madora was composed. "David," he said quietly. "All during that war of yours we had us a Mimbre named Soldado Viejo…the same one you're supposed to bring home. And I'll tell you something else. Bobby Lee, in his prime, couldn't rear-guard for Soldado if all the old Mimbre raided was whorehouses."

John Willet had looked from one to the other, trying to piece the conversation into some sense. Now he put down his comb and scissors and offered a hand mirror to Fly

"See how it looks," he said.

His gaze went to the window, idly, and he watched a man come out of the Republic House and start diagonally across the street toward the barbershop. Over the thick green lettering that read WILLET'S from the street side, he watched the man approach; long strides, but weaving somewhat, carrying a rifle in his right hand and saddlebags over his left shoulder. Then he recognized the man.

"God, I hope he hasn't been drinking."

Neither Fly

Willet spoke hurriedly, watching the man reach the plank sidewalk. "That's Frank Rellis…sometimes he acts fu

Fly

But Willet was looking toward the door. "Hello, Frank…be with you in a minute."

Frank Rellis stood in the doorway swaying slightly, then came in and unslung the saddlebags, dropping them onto the seat of a Douglas chair next to the door. He eyed the occupied barber chairs sullenly; a man about Fly

He looked at Willet. "Where's Irv?"

"Irv had to go to Willcox," John Willet said pleasantly. "I'll be with you in a minute…take a chair."

"I don't have a minute."

Willet smiled. "Frank, this being herd boss keeps you on the go, don't it?"

Rellis looked at the barber impassively. His deep-set eyes were half closed from drink and an apparent lack of sleep and a two days' beard stubble made his heavy-boned face menacing. "I said I don't have a minute."

Willet smiled, but now it was forced. "I'm finishing up, then I have to trim this here gent's beard"-he nodded to Joe Madora-"and I'll be with you."

"You can do better than that."

"Frank, I don't see any other way…"

"I do…you're taking me right now."

"Frank…"

"You can finish them up after."

Fly

Rellis ignored him, moving toward the first chair. He stopped at the footrest, in front of Fly

"You look prettier'n a French pimp," Rellis said. "Now get out of the chair."

Fly

"Looks fine to me," Willet said uneasily. "That's the way you always wear it."

"I want to try all kinds of styles," Fly

There was a silence and suddenly a brittle tension that was ready to break. Rellis' jaw tightened and colored a deeper red beneath the beard stubble. His body was stiff as if poised to make a move.

And then Joe Madora laughed. It was a soft chuckle, but it split the silence.

Rellis turned on him. "Are you laughing at me!" His face was beet-red now.

Madora's smile straightened and suddenly his dark face was cold and dead serious. He said to Rellis, "If you're not man then you shouldn't drink that lizard-pee they pass off as whisky over at the Republic."

Rellis didn't move. Fly

"Mister," Fly

Amazement was on Rellis' face, but he was near the end of his patience and the anger was plain on his face. "What's your name?" he said.

"Fly

"We ever met before?"

"I doubt it."

"Are you going to get out of that chair, or do I pry you out with this?" He raised the Winchester slightly.

"You raise that another inch," Fly

Rellis stopped. He looked at the long barber cloth that covered Fly

"You're bluffing."

"There's one way to find out."

Rellis glanced quickly at the antlers next to the door. A tan coat hung there; a gun belt could be beneath it, but it could also be in Fly

John Willet's face turned paler under the eye shade. He said, his voice faltering, "Gentlemen, please…" But that was all.