Relentless

7

When Watchman came around past the back of the trailer he saw Lansford sitting on the porch steps, dry-washing his clasped hands. Watchman signaled Buck Stevens and went to the horses. Untied two of them and began to lead them toward the horse trailer. Stevens trotted over to it and let down the tailgate ramp and Watchman went inside to lead the horses into the box. Stevens lifted the gate behind them and latched it shut, and Watchman climbed out over the slats.

Vickers was standing there. “What do you think you’re doing?”

Watchman glanced toward the house. Lansford sat holding his head as though it weighed half a ton. He was out of earshot. Watchman said, “I’m going to try and get his wife back for him.”

“Very noble.”

“No. It’s my job.”

“You’re living in the past, Trooper. This isn’t a one-man job. It isn’t one of those movies where the stalwart Indian scout goes out to rescue the captured white woman from the savages. You’re two men who put your pants on the same way I do and you think you’re going to win out against five well-armed soldiers who’ve got all the guts and all the technical know-how there is. They’re organized-you’re not. It takes a bigger organization to stop them. You’ll just get yourself killed-and probably get the woman killed too.”

Watchman checked the tailgate latches and turned. “You could try to stop me if you want.”

“Suppose we put a call in to your superiors and see what they say.”

“Go ahead.”

Vickers showed his surprise. “I will. You’ll wait right here until I have an answer.” And began to turn away.

“I guess not,” Watchman said, and went toward the cab of the truck.

Vickers gripped him by the arm and turned him back. “God damn you for a stubborn man. Do I have to put handcuffs on you?”.

Watchman just looked at him. “You could try.”

“Trooper, one shout from me and we’ll drive you down into the ground like a tent peg.”

“Do that. And then explain it to the Bureau after you come up with nothing in your hands but Mrs. Lansford’s corpse.”

“You are wrong.”

“Maybe I am. If I’m wrong I’m wrong. If you’re wrong you’re dead wrong. You’ve got a stupid way of figuring up odds, Vickers. If I was taking bets on you I wouldn’t even bother laying them off.” Watchman opened the door and climbed up into the cab.

Vickers stepped back. He didn’t say anything more. His hooded eyes pushed at Watchman.

Watchman triggered the starter and the engine caught and began to rumble. He reached for the headlight switch and then the passenger door opened and Buck Stevens climbed in. “Weren’t you going to wait for your faithful white companion?”

“You don’t have to make this run, Buck.”

“Who says?”

“If I make a mistake up there he’ll have my head in a basket. If you’re with me he’ll have yours too. I’m not going to ask you to stick your neck out.”

Stevens pulled the door shut. “Okay, you didn’t ask me.”