Valdez Is Coming

“How do you feel?” Valdez asked.

The Mexican said nothing, staring up at him with a dazed expression.

Valdez dismounted and went to his knees over the man, raising his arm gently to look at the wound. The shotgun charge had torn through his side at the waist, ripping away his belt and part of his shirt and leather chaps.

“You should have this taken care of,” Valdez said. “You know somebody can sew you up?”

The Mexican’s eyes were glazed, wet looking. “What do you put in that thing?”

“I told you, something for rabbits. Listen, I’m going to get your horse and put you on it.”

“I can’t ride anywhere.”

“Sure you can.” Valdez lowered the Mexican’s arm and gave his shoulder a pat. The Mexican winced and Valdez smiled. “You ride to Mr. Ta

5

“He’s dying,” the segundo said. “Maybe before tonight.”

The Mexican was on his back at the edge of the loading platform where they had taken him off his horse and laid him on his back. His eyes looked up at the segundo and at Frank Ta

“What else did he say?”

The Mexican who was dying stared up at Mr. Ta

“How do we know it’s the same one?”

“It’s his name.”

“There are a hundred Valdezes.”

“Maybe, but it must be the same one,” the segundo said. “You said he killed the Negro with a shotgun.”

“A farmer gun,” Ta

“I don’t know,” the segundo said. “The way he used it.”

Ta

The segundo followed Ta

“Send somebody and make sure.”

“He could be anywhere.”

“Well, goddam it, you’ve got people who read signs?”

“We’ve got some, sure.”

“Then send them,” Ta

“We start the drive tomorrow,” the segundo said.

Ta

The man lying on his back dying, with the wet stain of his blood on the platform now – thinking that this shouldn’t have happened to him because of the life in him an hour ago and because of the way he saw himself, aware of himself alive and never thinking of himself dying – looked up at the sky and didn’t have to close the light from his eyes. He saw the beard on the segundo’s face and the under-brim of his straw hat, and then he didn’t see the segundo. He saw Mr. Ta

“Ask him if he’s sure it’s the same one,” Ta

The segundo stepped close to the Mexican again. He knew he was dead as he looked at him, though the man’s eyes were open, staring at the sky.

The Mexican had reached the village, his head hanging, letting the horse take him, but he seemed to be still alive as he entered the street between the adobes.

You can die any time after you tell them, Valdez had thought, watching through the field glasses at the top of the trail. He had nothing against the man except a kick in the back and the certainty the man had wanted to kill him. He knew the man would die, and it would be better if he did; but he didn’t wish the man dead. It would happen, that was all.

Soon they would come out. They would come out in all directions or they would come strung out across the graze toward the trail into the hills. As the Mexican had reached the adobes, Valdez had climbed higher, off the trail now, leading the buckskin up into the rocks. From here he watched the three riders coming first, letting their horses out across the open land. They came up through the ravines and went down the switchbacks on the other side, not stopping. Three more came behind them, but not ru

There were others coming out from the village, fa