“Now we play the game,” Danskin said when they were lying in the rocks’ shelter. “Now we play The Lady or the Tiger.” He still held Converse by the arm; he tightened his grip. “What do you think, Converse? You think she’ll come through for you?”
“I don’t know,” Converse said.
Smitty watched the opposite mesa with his binoculars for a while and broke into laughter.
“Hey, man.” he said. “I’m gonna shoot that horse.” He turned to Danskin, excited and pleading. “Can I?”
Danskin chuckled tolerantly. “What an idiot,” he said to Converse.
“Sure,” he told Smitty, “go ahead.”
There were three shots, one following another, dogged, obsessive. After the second they heard a grunt and after the third a deep bellow, loud and explosive as the shot itself. Kjell screamed in the bell tower.
Marge jumped to her feet.
Hicks was already on the ladder when Kjell came stumbling down. His eyes were wild and he was so pale that Hicks thought at first that he had been shot. He pressed past Hicks and started for the front door. Marge and Galindez intercepted him.
Peering through the slot, Hicks saw the dappled horse on its side in the corral, striking the ground before it with a fore-hoof like a circus horse counting to music. The horse’s teeth were bared and its nostrils bloody, its flank was awash with bright arterial blood.
“For shit’s sake,” Hicks said.
He had a look through the glasses and noted that the pickup had moved out of sight. There were no signs of life on the opposite hillside but it was plain that the shots had come from that direction. The sun was almost gone behind the pinnacle to the west, shadows moved up the higher slopes. He set the glasses on the rail and went be low.
“Would you believe they shot the horse?”
“I believe it,” Kjell shouted at him. “I saw it.”
“They’re crazy,” Hicks said disgustedly. “They’ll be shooting out the windows next. We ought to put mattresses up.”
“Are we going to stay here?” Marge asked. “Won’t they come up?”
“If they knew how,” Dieter said, “they’d be here.”
“How’d you lose them?” Hicks asked Galindez.
Galindez answered him in Spanish, something about a galeria.
“I was thinking,” Kjell said, “we could hide out in there. That’s what it’s for.”
“Might be the place for you, K-jell. I don’t care for holes much myself.”
“Look,” Dieter said, “it isn’t necessary. We can get to Elpidio’s place without even crossing the road. There are other people there.”
“Maybe we’re better off up here, Dieter. Down in the valley they got us in their pocket. It’s kind of our game up here.”
“But there are all these people down there,” Marge said. “They’re your friends, aren’t they? Won’t they help us?”
“Yes and no,” Dieter said. “Their heads are in a curious place. If they see there’s trouble they’ll go away. They’re pacifists. And they have a very detached view of the world.”
A man’s voice echoed over the valley.
“Hello,” the voice wailed. “Hello.”
“Hello, yourself,” Hicks said.
The voice called again.
“Marge! It’s John!”
She stared at Hicks in panic.
“It is,” she said. “It’s him.”
Hicks went up the ladder, picked up the glasses, and scanned the opposite hillside. Their heads were visible over a rock ledge — Converse, and beside him a blond man squinting down the sight of a hunting rifle. Hicks looked at the rifle barrel long enough to remember that the corner of sun to the left of the pinnacle was strong enough to reflect the lenses of his binoculars. He ducked before the shot and the bullet hit the rail and ricocheted dreadfully against the bell.
“It tolls for thee, motherfucker,” someone cried, and there was echoing, half-hysterical laughter.
Hicks ducked back through the trap and went below
“Yes, it is,” he told Marge. “They got him.”
“Oh my God,” Marge said. She started toward the lad der.
“Stay off there,” Hicks told her. “Listen through the door, they don’t have a shot at it.”
He opened the front door and stood by it.
“Marge!” Converse called to them. “Let them have it!”
“I can’t stand it,” she said.
“Marge! They have Janey!”
She put her hands to her ears.
“That’s a lie, Marge,” Hicks said. He took her by the wrists. “If they had they’d have her in sight.”
“They have Janey!” Converse shouted.
“Who’s Janey?” Kjell asked.
“How do I know they haven’t?” Marge asked desperately. “How?”
Hicks shook his head.
“Tell them to produce her.”
“Produce her?” Marge cried. “Produce her? They’ll burn her with cigarettes.”
“For Christ’s sake, man, they haven’t got her. She’s with your father.”
“Marge!” Converse called.
Marge knelt on the stone floor.
“How can he do it?”
“You know who they are. I’d do it too, if it was me.”
“Marge!”
Galindez asked who the man was that shouted.
“Her husband,” Dieter told him.
On the far hill, Converse clung to his rock, shouting into fantasy.
“Give it to them!”
“Clear,” Danskin instructed him. “So they understand you.”
“Give it to them! They’ll let us go. If they don’t get it—they’ll kill me.”
“Us!” Danskin said.
“Kill us!” Converse shouted.
“How’s anybody gonna know what he’s talkin’ about?” Smitty asked irritably.
“Yell it again, shithead. Louder.”
“Give it to them” Converse called. “Or they’ll kill me. And you. They’ll kill everybody. But if you give it to them…” he stopped and drew breath… “they won’t!”
“You think it’s funny?” Danskin asked.
“Not at all,” Converse said.
Marge stood in the doorway with her eyes closed.
“What was it? What did he say?”
Hicks shuddered. “He’s out of his head. What he says is to give it to them. What else would he say?”
“Suppose we do?”
“What do you think? You think they’ll let us walk?” He went round to the rear door that opened to the stream and looked outside.
“Dieter, let your man take the boy down to his place. You can go too if you like. Keep yourselves at this angle to the building,” he told them, making a wedge of his hand and pointing south. “I don’t think they’ll have a shot at you that way. But go quick.”
“I have to think,” Dieter said. He nodded to Galindez; Galindez and the boy started out the back door.
“While they’re going,” Hicks told Marge taking her by the arm and leading her toward the front door, “you tell them O.K. Say, ‘O.K. Please let us go. We have to dig it up.’”
Marge went to the front door and leaned against the carved doorway.
“O.K.,” she shouted. “Please let us go. We have to dig it up!”
“Get your ass down here,” one of the men on the hillside called. “Make it fast!”
“I’m sorry about your horse, K-jell,” Hicks said. Kjell and Galindez were already running across the stream toward the shadowed woods.
“What are you gonna do, Dieter? You staying?”