Relentless

10

“One more thing I don’t understand,” Stevens said when he reached for the reins. “Why’d Vickers get so upset about it?”

“Because he was wrong.” Watchman took off a glove to dig for his matches. “Those guys aren’t used to having anybody tell them they’re wrong. Most folks seem to think of them the same way they think of Motherhood and the Flag and God. Of course nowadays none of those items drag down the kind of veneration they used to, but the Bureau just chalks that up to an epidemic of Commies and radic-libs.”

Stevens smiled with slow wickedness. “Maybe when he turns in his report you’ll turn out to be the first un-American Indian in history, kemo sabe.”

But Watchman wasn’t listening. The corner of his vision had picked up the bouncing glow beyond the ridgeline behind them and he turned quickly and squinted down toward it.

In time the headlights burst over the crest and swung wildly across him and dipped below as the truck growled over the lower hilltop and came gnashing forward with its horse trailer clanking and wobbling.

“Looks like we’ve got help.”

“Aeah-but whose?”

It downshifted again and came wheeze-whining up alongside the parked power wagon. The door opened and Agent Vickers climbed out of the cab, straightened, jabbed his fists into the small of his back and arched his body backwards. “Jesus. My kidneys.”

“It must be the cavalry,” Stevens said. “Coming to the rescue.”

Watchman said, “Since you’re waiting for us to ask, to what do we owe the honor?”

The FBI man’s face was not readable in the sudden darkness after the switching-off of headlights. His voice issued from the shadows as he moved forward. “Maybe I decided to play it your way. On the theory that it’s not wise to change even horses’ asses in midstream.” He came into slightly better view behind the horse trailer and lowered the tailgate ramp. “Somebody want to help me back this beast out of here?”

Watchman said, “I seem to remember a speech you dropped on Lansford back there. We don’t need any amateur help.”

“And I seem to recall he answered you’ve got it whether you want it or not.” Vickers turned: his face picked up a bit of illumination from the sky and seemed remotely angry, bitter. “I may as well tell you. If we live through it you’ll find out anyway. They’ve called off the National Guard.”