almost blinded him, and he vowed to himself to keep his eyes on the cracks from then on, to let them take in as much light as they could. He did not want to miss his first shot.
"Here," Consuela said, handing him the rifle. It was a lever-action Henry, older than Paco.
She put four cartridges into his hand. "That is all the ammunition we have," she said.
"It will be enough," he told her.
She said nothing, closing the door. Then she went to catch the mule.
#
Vincent had no call to hold Charley at the jail, so he let him go, telling him to stay in town. He left Jack in charge of the jail, too late, he knew, but he wasn't going off and leave the place unattended this time. He had to talk to Bigby and to try to find Paco.
Bigby was his usual ebullient self again, smiling and showing his teeth all the way back to his throat when Vincent entered the office, really nothing more than a rented room decked out with a few ads for patent medicines on the wall.
"I took the girl over to Rankin's, like you said. He wasn't too happy with me for bringin' her in, though. Said she was a real mess, and he didn't have time to fix her like she ought to be fixed, not with the weather as hot as it is. I told him the family'd be by to talk to him about the buryin'."
He stopped to look to Vincent for approval, and when the sheriff did not say anything, Bigby went on.
"Did I do the right thing? You did say the family'd best see her over there, didn't you? Told me not to keep her here?"
That's right," Vincent said. "But I'm not sure the family ever went over there, at least not the father. Maybe the mother did. Anyway, that's not why I'm here."
"Well, well. Don't tell me you've got somethin' the matter with you. It'd be the first time. You comin' down with a cold or the fever? I got some medicines here that'll have you feelin' better in no time." He started rummaging around in his bag, the bottles clinking together.
"I don't need anything like that," Vincent said.
"Well, what do you need, then? I hate to say it, Sheriff, but it ain't like you to be droppin' by for a sociable visit. There must be somethin' on your mind."
"There is," Vincent said.
"You're sure havin' a hard time sayin' what it is, ain't you. One of those 'delicate' matters, is it?"
"That's right," Vincent said. It's delicate. That's the right word."
Bigby rubbed his hands together. "You come to the right man, then. Bein' a doctor and all, I can keep quiet about things when I have to. People wouldn't tell me what I need to know to help 'em, otherwise."
Where had he heard something just like that lately, Vincent wondered, and then he remembered that Martha Randall had said practically the same thing about her husband. As far as Vincent knew it was the only thing doctors and preachers had in common.
"It's about the girl," Vincent said.
"What about her? She's dead, that's all."
"Was she pregnant?"
Bigby's smile went from wide to thin, but he didn't say anything.
"I thought that was one of the things you'd check, just to be sure, in a case like this. It's just what a doctor ought to do."
"You sayin' I ain't a doctor?"
"I'm just asking, did you check. That's all."
"What if I did?"
"Then you can answer me. Was she pregnant?"
"Yeah," Bigby said. "Yeah, she was."
"Damnit, then why didn't you tell me to start with? you can't keep somethin' like that a secret."
"Why not?" Bigby said. "Why the hell not? She was the preacher's girl! How do you think her mama and daddy will feel if they find out she was gonna have a baby?"
"It might've been better for them to hear it from you or me than the way they heard it," Vincent said, not saying what that way was. "You should've told me, Doc."
Bigby looked shamefaced. "I know it. Hell, I started to, but I thought, maybe I could save the family from knowin'. It seemed like the right thing."
"All right.
"Here," Consuela said, handing him the rifle. It was a lever-action Henry, older than Paco.
She put four cartridges into his hand. "That is all the ammunition we have," she said.
"It will be enough," he told her.
She said nothing, closing the door. Then she went to catch the mule.
#
Vincent had no call to hold Charley at the jail, so he let him go, telling him to stay in town. He left Jack in charge of the jail, too late, he knew, but he wasn't going off and leave the place unattended this time. He had to talk to Bigby and to try to find Paco.
Bigby was his usual ebullient self again, smiling and showing his teeth all the way back to his throat when Vincent entered the office, really nothing more than a rented room decked out with a few ads for patent medicines on the wall.
"I took the girl over to Rankin's, like you said. He wasn't too happy with me for bringin' her in, though. Said she was a real mess, and he didn't have time to fix her like she ought to be fixed, not with the weather as hot as it is. I told him the family'd be by to talk to him about the buryin'."
He stopped to look to Vincent for approval, and when the sheriff did not say anything, Bigby went on.
"Did I do the right thing? You did say the family'd best see her over there, didn't you? Told me not to keep her here?"
That's right," Vincent said. "But I'm not sure the family ever went over there, at least not the father. Maybe the mother did. Anyway, that's not why I'm here."
"Well, well. Don't tell me you've got somethin' the matter with you. It'd be the first time. You comin' down with a cold or the fever? I got some medicines here that'll have you feelin' better in no time." He started rummaging around in his bag, the bottles clinking together.
"I don't need anything like that," Vincent said.
"Well, what do you need, then? I hate to say it, Sheriff, but it ain't like you to be droppin' by for a sociable visit. There must be somethin' on your mind."
"There is," Vincent said.
"You're sure havin' a hard time sayin' what it is, ain't you. One of those 'delicate' matters, is it?"
"That's right," Vincent said. It's delicate. That's the right word."
Bigby rubbed his hands together. "You come to the right man, then. Bein' a doctor and all, I can keep quiet about things when I have to. People wouldn't tell me what I need to know to help 'em, otherwise."
Where had he heard something just like that lately, Vincent wondered, and then he remembered that Martha Randall had said practically the same thing about her husband. As far as Vincent knew it was the only thing doctors and preachers had in common.
"It's about the girl," Vincent said.
"What about her? She's dead, that's all."
"Was she pregnant?"
Bigby's smile went from wide to thin, but he didn't say anything.
"I thought that was one of the things you'd check, just to be sure, in a case like this. It's just what a doctor ought to do."
"You sayin' I ain't a doctor?"
"I'm just asking, did you check. That's all."
"What if I did?"
"Then you can answer me. Was she pregnant?"
"Yeah," Bigby said. "Yeah, she was."
"Damnit, then why didn't you tell me to start with? you can't keep somethin' like that a secret."
"Why not?" Bigby said. "Why the hell not? She was the preacher's girl! How do you think her mama and daddy will feel if they find out she was gonna have a baby?"
"It might've been better for them to hear it from you or me than the way they heard it," Vincent said, not saying what that way was. "You should've told me, Doc."
Bigby looked shamefaced. "I know it. Hell, I started to, but I thought, maybe I could save the family from knowin'. It seemed like the right thing."
"All right.
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