He was their leader and could speak to her this way if he wanted.
The two policemen were no longer on this trip. Rudi, less than a mile from Atars and leading Yaro, had gone off in the direction of Cerro, on the edge of Havana, Yaro needing a doctor before he bled to death.
Virgil walked the perimeter of the farmyard with a Mauser cradled in his arm, the marine peering through the dusk at silent hills and pastures, came back to the house and sat on the door stoop t8 eat plantains.
Tyler put the horses out to graze, their forelegs hobbled. Amelia strolled out, the sky dark now. She said she had never seen so many empty homes, all the poor people killed or imprisoned in those camps. She asked Tyler where his family had lived in New Orleans and they talked a little about the city he had left as a boy, polite with each other, Tyler sensing that they were both holding back, alone for the first time and feeling what it was like. He said well, it was time he washed the prison off him, bathe in one of those rock pools by the caves. Amelia gave him a bar of soap with lilac scent.
He sat in cold water in the dark, the rock tub shallow. It was strange, but smelling the soap made him think of Camille, back home with a husband now, the railroad dick. He hadn't thought of her once since turning his head to see Amelia Brown in that hotel dining room, and now Amelia's soap reminded him of an old girl he'd been fond of, a whore who never pretended to be anything else. He wondered how Amelia Brown saw herself. If being the pleasure of one man instead of anybody that came along made a difference. He dried himself with his blanket, spread it over a rock and put on a pair of canvas pants and a shirt he'd bought in Havana, and his old hat Fuentes had stuck in the bedroll. It felt good to be wearing a hat again. His new boots were about broken in. A guard at the Morro had wanted to take them off him; Tyler told the man he'd have to kill him first, and if he did he'd never get the boots off.
He started back and came to Amelia waiting for him in the dark, a few yards from the rock pool.
"What were you doing, watching me?"
"If I was," she said, "I didn't see much."
Already they were closer to knowing each other. He could feel it.
She said, "I want to ask you something, why you're staying."
It surprised him. He told her Boudreaux still owed him for the horses, forty-five hundred and forty-five dollars. Watched her nod, saying that's what she thought, and watched her draw on the cigarette she was smoking, the tip glowing in the dark. Now she offered him one from the pack and held her cigarette up to give him a light.
"They're Sweet Caps."
Tyler exhaled a stream of smoke and looked at the cigarette. He said, "You know I've never had a tailor-made before?"
She said, "I'd believe there all kinds of things you haven't tried yet. I imagine, though, mostly by choice. A man who robs banks must do just about whatever he wants."
This girl was closing in fast, still polite but having fun with him now. Tyler said, "Why does robbing banks seem to appeal to you?"
"I wondered what it was like."
"Why?"
"I'm curious, that's all."
"I can tell you in one word, it's scary."
"But you did it. Walked right in. What did you say, Give me all your money?"
Yeah, she was having fun was all. He said, "I wasn't greedy, I only asked for some of the money, took it and left." He said, "What's the worst thing you've ever done," and watched her expression change.
"I killedi man today."
"You made a good shot, too. You hadn't, Fuentes and those two policemen'd be dead. If you're gonna be in it, you have to be in all the way."
She said, still with her somber expression, "You sound like Victor. Do you know much about this war?"
"I just spent two months with a bunch of old patriots. I heard all the stories and I can be inspired by them," Tyler said, "or by Charlie Burke. Charlie, standing before that firing squad, turning his head to spit."
"To show his contempt," Amelia said.
"No, it was so he wouldn't be lying there dead with tobacco juice dribbled down his chin. Charlie Burke had more sand than any man I know. Or outside of those old patriots." "Did you know Victor was one of them?" "Charlie never told me, but I figured it out." "Do you see a change in him?"
"You mean now he isn't your servant anymore?" "He never was," Amelia said. "We're friends." "Then what's bothering you?"
Something was, and she took her time now.
"I think of the way he used to speak to me, even telling about awful things, the Volunteers murdering people, firing into a theater…"
"The Villanueva," Tyler said.
"Yes, and Victor was there, he saw it. But whatever he told me, it was always in a quiet tone of voice, never sounding mean or vengeful. So I believed, yes, this is his manner." "But now," Tyler said.
"He's changed. Not a lot, but I can tell."
Tyler drew on the cigarette, giving himself time, not understanding why she didn't see it. He said, "You're used to him looking at the ground when he speaks. Maybe not to you but to most people and that's how you think of him, that nice old man. But see, now he doesn't have to act nice if he doesn't feel like it, same as you and me. He's joined to fight the war again, picked up a gun and it makes him a different person."
"I understand that," Amelia said. "I feel I know the man, but for some reason I'm not as sure of him as I was. It was a year ago he asked me, "What's the point of you?" He saw me as a lady of leisure, not doing a damn thing with my life, and he must've thought hmmmm, maybe I can use this girl."
"You felt that?"
"Of course I did, I'm not dumb. I let him use me. I'd listen to Rollie and his buddies talking about the situation-it was always the way the Spanish saw it. Or it was about things people in the government told Rollie they were going to do. Rollie always saw General Weyler when we came to Havana. The general talked about the honor of retaking a town in the east, Victoria de las Tunas, no matter how many men it cost. Victor said, "Las Tunas? Who cares about that place?" I never had much to tell that I felt helped the cause. But living here, I see what's happening to the people. I saw two men murdered. I did, I saw that Guardia, Tavalera, shoot them both in cold blood. And I began to think, what can I do? You must've felt the same way to bring in guns, risk your life for people you don't even know. I wanted to do something with my life. I mean short of losing it; I'm not a martyr."
Tyler liked the way she talked about how she felt, serious but showing she was human.
"Then when you were put in prison I thought, that's it, get you out. I talked to Victor about it for weeks and finally he said the time was right."
"Bless your heart," Tyler said. "You know I'm in your debt forever."
She was done with her somber mood, getting a keen look in her eyes as she said, "You mean it?"
"I'm here," Tyler said. "I have to collect from Boudreaux before I ever think of leaving."
"We do too," Amelia said. "I'm talking about the hostage money. We tell Rollie I'm being held by insurgents. He pays it or he never sees me again."
"I wondered about that. How much you asking?"
"Eighty thousand dollars."
Tyler took a moment to wonder what it would look like, all that money in stacks of U.S. scrip, before he said, "You think he'll pay?"
Not a question she seemed to expect. But then got that keen look in her eyes again and said, "Wouldn't you, if you had it?"
Showing a good deal of confidence in herself.
"I don't know," Tyler said. "Maybe."
Right there, she lost some of her spunk and gave him a shrug. "It doesn't matter."
"But if I didn't pay," Tyler said, "I'd never know what I'd be missing, would I? Was me, sure, I'd pay."
It put a nice smile on her face, a child getting what she wanted. She said, "I'll tell you this, Rollie knows what he'd be missing."