know, the association never even made us an offer."
"They didn't have to, Sonny."
"I know, you're plumb right. They'd just gobble us up." His knuckles tightened on the old rifle he had not relin qui shed. "They got Pa, all right. But by God, they ain't got me yet. I aim to git me a couple of 'em afore they do."
He went to a window and stared out. A bullet whizzed post his head and struck one of the cloth mufflers the Ko vacs and Amanda had hung. Sonny poked out the gun and returned the fire, wildly, just to serve notice.
Buchanan went across to where Coco was sitting up in bed. "You feelin' more like yourself?"
"That ole Injun gal," Coco said wonderingly. "She is pure voodoo."
"Not voodoo. Crow Indian. They know a lot of things."
"Prettiest hi ole gal I ever did see." Coco was not usually interested in females; he was a dedicated prizefighter, always in top condi tion in case a bout should be of f ered. When the urge became too strong, he had always been able to find a house that obliged with a convenient black woman. "Her hands are like the wings of doves."
"Doves?" Buchanan stared. "Like doves?"
"You just don't understand. You just a big bullyboy. That gal's healin' me. It's a plain miracle."
"I'M a big bullyboy? YOU are a little flower? I-swan, Coco, you must still be possessed by the fever."
"Go tend to your fightin'," said Coco. "I get up outa here, I'm goin' to whup you all over Wyomin'."
"That's better," said Buchanan. He looked at Weevil. "What about you?"
"Had the dizzys. They whomped me so on the head that my eyes got crossed. Like Coco says, the gal knows what to do. Gimme a gun anytime you're ready. I can do any- thin' but scout. A one-legged scout won't cut it."
Buchanan nodded. It was time to check with Durkin in the barn. He went into the kitchen. Amanda was again putting together sandwiches.
"Food holdin' out?" he asked her.
"Everybody brought some. But there are a lot of mouths to feed. Have some soup."
It was best to eat when he could get it, there would come a time when he'd miss meals, he knew. She paused to watch him, smiling secretly. He was uneasy.
"It ain't funny. One of us gone already," he said.
"I know. You make it plain." Still she smiled at the corners of her mouth, with her eyes. "You do go all the way. You don't mince words."
"Wouldn't be right to cheat people with promises. In this kind of a fight, everybody should feel like he or she won't get it. Correct. But you can't get around the odds."
"We face the odds every day of our lives," she told him. "I'm thinking of the time when this is over."
"That's good."
"Of you and me. We'll be ... friends."
Again he noted how each varying emotion transfigured her, made her interesting, even beautiful. "Sure. We'll be friends. If we live."
Raven came into the kitchen and accepted soup. He had yet to see her really smile. She moved always to where she was most needed, silent, graceful. He could imagine how Coco felt about her.
She said, "Your fighting man is afraid of guns, isn't he?"
"He tell you that?" ;
"He spoke of many things he will not remember."
"Yeah, the fever. But he does hate guns. Scared? No. I never knew Coco to be scared."
"A fine man," she said, stating it as a fact.
"You oughta hear what he says about you."
"I have heard." Now she did smile slightly, her eyes widening. "It is nice to know what a man feels."
"You'll know a heap about men before you're through," he told her, grinning.
She sobered immediately, lowering her eyes to the soup. He had met nuns like her, he thought, dedicated to others, selfless.
He finished the soup and went to the back door. The sun still shone as it dipped toward the mountains. Clouds billowed in the sky. The open door of the barn seemed a mile away. The sharpshooters in the trees and on the knoll were watching. Every so often they would fire a shot on the chance of hitting someone.
Buchanan hitched up his pants. Without warning, he opened the door and began to run toward the
"They didn't have to, Sonny."
"I know, you're plumb right. They'd just gobble us up." His knuckles tightened on the old rifle he had not relin qui shed. "They got Pa, all right. But by God, they ain't got me yet. I aim to git me a couple of 'em afore they do."
He went to a window and stared out. A bullet whizzed post his head and struck one of the cloth mufflers the Ko vacs and Amanda had hung. Sonny poked out the gun and returned the fire, wildly, just to serve notice.
Buchanan went across to where Coco was sitting up in bed. "You feelin' more like yourself?"
"That ole Injun gal," Coco said wonderingly. "She is pure voodoo."
"Not voodoo. Crow Indian. They know a lot of things."
"Prettiest hi ole gal I ever did see." Coco was not usually interested in females; he was a dedicated prizefighter, always in top condi tion in case a bout should be of f ered. When the urge became too strong, he had always been able to find a house that obliged with a convenient black woman. "Her hands are like the wings of doves."
"Doves?" Buchanan stared. "Like doves?"
"You just don't understand. You just a big bullyboy. That gal's healin' me. It's a plain miracle."
"I'M a big bullyboy? YOU are a little flower? I-swan, Coco, you must still be possessed by the fever."
"Go tend to your fightin'," said Coco. "I get up outa here, I'm goin' to whup you all over Wyomin'."
"That's better," said Buchanan. He looked at Weevil. "What about you?"
"Had the dizzys. They whomped me so on the head that my eyes got crossed. Like Coco says, the gal knows what to do. Gimme a gun anytime you're ready. I can do any- thin' but scout. A one-legged scout won't cut it."
Buchanan nodded. It was time to check with Durkin in the barn. He went into the kitchen. Amanda was again putting together sandwiches.
"Food holdin' out?" he asked her.
"Everybody brought some. But there are a lot of mouths to feed. Have some soup."
It was best to eat when he could get it, there would come a time when he'd miss meals, he knew. She paused to watch him, smiling secretly. He was uneasy.
"It ain't funny. One of us gone already," he said.
"I know. You make it plain." Still she smiled at the corners of her mouth, with her eyes. "You do go all the way. You don't mince words."
"Wouldn't be right to cheat people with promises. In this kind of a fight, everybody should feel like he or she won't get it. Correct. But you can't get around the odds."
"We face the odds every day of our lives," she told him. "I'm thinking of the time when this is over."
"That's good."
"Of you and me. We'll be ... friends."
Again he noted how each varying emotion transfigured her, made her interesting, even beautiful. "Sure. We'll be friends. If we live."
Raven came into the kitchen and accepted soup. He had yet to see her really smile. She moved always to where she was most needed, silent, graceful. He could imagine how Coco felt about her.
She said, "Your fighting man is afraid of guns, isn't he?"
"He tell you that?" ;
"He spoke of many things he will not remember."
"Yeah, the fever. But he does hate guns. Scared? No. I never knew Coco to be scared."
"A fine man," she said, stating it as a fact.
"You oughta hear what he says about you."
"I have heard." Now she did smile slightly, her eyes widening. "It is nice to know what a man feels."
"You'll know a heap about men before you're through," he told her, grinning.
She sobered immediately, lowering her eyes to the soup. He had met nuns like her, he thought, dedicated to others, selfless.
He finished the soup and went to the back door. The sun still shone as it dipped toward the mountains. Clouds billowed in the sky. The open door of the barn seemed a mile away. The sharpshooters in the trees and on the knoll were watching. Every so often they would fire a shot on the chance of hitting someone.
Buchanan hitched up his pants. Without warning, he opened the door and began to run toward the
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