“Maybe it wasn’t Josh and Billy who ran him off. Maybe they didn’t know about it. Maybe Bobby did it himself. My friend wasn’t as big as you. He was a schoolteacher, out of work.”
And he just disappeared?”
I saw him again, just once, back in Pecos. He was scared. Wouldn’t talk to me.”
“Did Bobby tell Sloop?” He promised he wouldn’t. We had a deal.”
,
“What kind of a deal?”
She went quiet again. Just rode on, sitting slackly on the swaying horse.
“The usual kind,” she said. “If I’d do something for him, he’d keep quiet.”
“What kind of something?”
She paused again.
“Something I really don’t want to tell you about,” she said.
“I see.”
“Yes, you see.”
“And did he keep quiet?”
“I really have no idea. He made me do it twice. It was disgusting. He’s disgusting. But he promised faithfully. But he’s a liar, so I’m assuming he told Sloop anyway. On one of his brotherly visits. I always knew it was a lose-lose gamble, but what could I do? What choice did I have?”
“Bobby figures that’s why I’m here. He thinks we’re having an affair, too.”
She nodded. “That would be my guess. He doesn’t know Sloop hits me. Even if he did, he wouldn’t expect me to do anything about it.”
Reacher was quiet for a spell. Another twenty yards, thirty, at the slow patient pace of a walking horse.
“You need to get out,” he said. “How many times do you have to hear it?”
“I won’t run,” she answered.
They reached the top of the rise and she made a small sound and her horse stopped walking. His stopped, too, at her shoulder. They were about fifty feet above the plain. Ahead of them, to the west, the caliche sloped gently down again, pocked by dry gulches the size of ballparks. Behind them, to the east, the red house and the other buildings in the compound were spread out a mile away, flat on the baked land like a model. The road ran like a gray ribbon, north and south. Behind the tiny motor barn the dirt track wandered south and east through the desert, like a scar on burned and pockmarked skin. The air was dry and unnaturally clear all the way to both horizons, where it broke up into haze. The heat was a nightmare. The sun was fearsome. Reacher could feel his face burning.
“Take care as we go down,” Carmen said. “Stay balanced.”
She moved off ahead of him, letting her horse find its own way down the incline. He kicked with his heels and followed her. He lost the rhythm as his horse stepped short and he started bouncing uncomfortably.
“Follow me,” she called.
She was moving to the right, toward a dry gulch with a flat floor, all stone and sand. He started trying to figure which rein he should pull on, but his horse turned anyway. Its feet crunched on gravel and slipped occasionally. Then it stepped right down into the gulch, which jerked him violently backward and forward. Ahead of him Carmen was slipping out of the saddle. Then she was standing on the ground, stretching, waiting for him. His horse stopped next to hers and he shook his right foot free of the stirrup and got off by doing the exact opposite of what had got him on a half hour before.
“So what do you think?” she asked.
“Well, I know why John Wayne walked funny.”
She smiled briefly and led both horses together to the rim of the gulch and heaved a large stone over the free ends of both sets of reins. He could hear absolute silence, nothing at all behind the buzz and shimmer of the heat. She lifted the flap of her saddlebag and took out her pocketbook. Zipped it open and slipped her hand in and came out with a small chromium handgun.
“You promised you’d teach me,” she said.
“Wait,” he said.
“What?”
He said nothing. Stepped left, stepped right, crouched down, stood tall. Stared at the floor of the gulch, moving around, using the shadows from the sun to help him.