Standing by the windows, watching the possemen not moving, became tiresome. So one by one they would go back to the table and take a drink. Rich Miller took his turn and it tasted good. But he did not drink much.
Still, the time dragged on until Eugene thought of something. He went to his gear and drew a deck of cards.
Sonny Navarez said, "I have not played often."
"Stand by the window awhile," Deke told him.
"Then somebody'll spell you. You got enough cash to learn with."
Eugene shook his head, thinking of his brother, who had taken twice as much as the others because the holdup had been his idea. "Damn Ford had four thousand in his bags. . . ."
They started playing, using matches for chips, each one worth a dollar. Rich Miller said the stakes were big . . . he'd never played higher than nickeldime before; but he began winning right off and he changed his tune. Most of the time they played fivecard stud. Deke said it separated the men from the boys and he looked at Rich Miller when he said it. Deke played with a dumb face, but would smile after the last card was dealt as if the last card always twinned the one he had in the hole. And he lost every hand. Eugene and Rich Miller took turns winning the pots, and after a while Deke stopped smiling.
"We're raising the stakes," he said finally. "Each stick's worth ten dollars." Deke's cut was down to a few hundred dollars.
Eugene took a drink and wiped his mouth and grinned. "Ain't you losing it fast enough?"
Rich Miller grinned with him.
Deke said, "Just deal the cards."
McKelway reached the platform on top of the shaft scaffolding and dropped the line to haul up the rifles his own Sharps and Jim Mission's rollblock Remington. He was glad Jim Mission was coming up with him. Jim was company and could shoot probably better than he could.
When Jim reached the platform the two men nodded and smiled, then loaded their rifles and practice sighted on the doorway. McKelway said, Try not to hit the boy, though knocking off any of the others would be doing mankind a good turn, and Jim Mission said it was all right with him.
Eugene got up from the table unsteadily, tipping back his chair; he was grinning and stuffing currency into his pants pockets. In two hours he had won every cent of Deke's and Rich Miller's money.
They remained seated, watching him sullenly, thinking it was a damn fool thing to try and win back all your losings in a couple of hands. Eugene took another pull at the bottle and wiped his mouth and looked at them, but he only grinned.
"Sonny!" He called to the Mexican lounging beside the window. "Your turn to get skinned."
The Mexican shook his head. "I could not oppose such luck."
"Come on!"
Sonny Navarez shook his head again and smiled.
Harlan looked at him steadily, frowning. "Are you going to play?"
"Why should I give you my money?"
"You don't come over here, I'll come get you."
The Mexican did not smile now and the room was silent. Rich Miller started to rise, but Deke was up first. "Gene, you want to fight somebody there's plenty outside."
Eugene ignored him and kept on toward Sonny.
The Mexican's hand edged toward his holstered pistol.
"Gene, you sit down now," Deke said tensely.
Eugene stepped into the rectangle of sunlight carpeting in from the doorway. He was stepping out of it when the rifle cracked and sang in the open stillness. Eugene's hands clawed at his face and he dropped without uttering a sound.
McKelway reloaded quickly. He had got one of them, he was sure of that. And it hadn't looked like the boy, else he wouldn't have fired. Jim Mission told him it was good shooting. After that McKelway did some figuring.
From the crest of the ore tailing in front of them, they'd be only about fifty yards from the hut. The only trouble was, they'd be out in the open. He told Jim Mission about it and he said why not go up after dark; then if they didn't see anything they'd still be close enough to shoot at sounds. McKelway said he was just waiting for Jim to say it.
There was no poker the rest of the afternoon.
Deke had dragged Eugene by his boots out of the doorway and placed him against a side wall with his hands on his chest, not crossed, but pushed inside his coat. He took the money out of Eugene's pockets six thousand dollars and laid it on the table. Then he sat down and looked at it.
Rich Miller pressed close to the wall by the window, studying the slope, wondering where the man with the rifle was. His eyes hung on the weathered shaft scaffolding, and now he wasn't so sure if there'd be any fun.
Once Deke said, "Now it's starting to show itself," but they didn't bother to ask him what.
Sonny Navarez stayed by a window. He would look at Eugene's body, but most of the time he was watching the dying sun. Rich Miller noticed this, but he figured the Mexican was thinking about God or heaven or hell because there was a dead man in the room. Sonny had crossed himself when Eugene was cut down, even though he would have killed him himself a minute before.
The sun was below the canyon rim, though the sky still reflected it red and orange, when Sonny Navarez pulled his pistol.
Deke was raising the bottle. He glanced at the Mexican, but only momentarily. He took a long swallow then and extended the bottle to Rich Miller. But the boy was staring at Sonny Navarez.
Deke's head turned abruptly. Sonny's long barreled .44 was pointing toward them.
Deke took his time putting down the bottle. He looked up again. "What's the idea?"
The Mexican said, "When it is dark I'm leaving."
Deke nodded to the pistol. "You think we're going to try and stop you?" "You might. I am taking the money."
"You're wasting your time."
Sonny Navarez shrugged. "Que va it's worth a try. From no matter where you die, it's the same distance to hell."
"You wouldn't have a chance," Rich Miller said.
"There's somebody out there close with a rifle dead on this place."
"For this money a man will brave many things," the Mexican said. "And I am not leaving until dark." Then he told them to face the wall, and when they did, he picked up the bundles of oversize bills and stuffed them inside his jacket.
Rich Miller said, "Do you think you'll get through?"
"Probably no."
Deke said, "You're a damn fool."
"If I get out," Sonny Navarez said, "I will visit a priest and give his church part of the money, and not rob again."
"It's too late for that," Deke said. "It's too late for anything."
"No," the Mexican insisted. "I will be very sorry for this crime. With the money that is left after the church I will buy my mother a house in Hermosillo and after that I will recite the rosary every day."
Deke shook his head. "Things are going the way they are for a reason we don't know. But nothing you can do will change it."
The Mexican shrugged and said, "Que va "
It was almost full dark when Sonny Navarez moved to the doorway. He stood next to the opening and holstered his pistol and lifted his carbine, which was there against the wall. He levered a shell into the breech and stepped into the opening, crouching slightly. He hesitated, as if listening, then turned to the two men at the table and nodded. As he was turning back, the rifle shot rang in the dim stillness and echoed up canyon. Sonny Navarez doubled, sinking to his knees, and hung there momentarily, as if in prayer, before falling half through the doorway.
Later, McKelway and Mission climbed down from the ore tailing and reported to Freehouser.
The marshal said three out of five men wasn't bad for one day's work. They were sitting on the porch, cigarettes glowing in the darkness, when the rider came in from Asuncion. He told them that Elton Goss was going to pull through.