“We’ll see,” Karla said.
Renda swung down from the saddle and walked toward her. Watching him Karla began to back away. “What’s the matter with you?” Renda said. “I only want to give your letters back. You’re so anxious to ride them up to the camp, all right. Here.”
As Karla took them, Renda’s hand went to her shoulder. “Karla, there’s no good reason we have to fight.”
“Take your hand off me.”
“Why don’t we just talk awhile. Get all the misunderstanding cleared away.”
“I’m happy the way it is,” Karla said. She shifted the mail to her left hand and her right hand closed around the quirt that hung from her wrist.
“Karla, we could go over and sit in that sycamore shade. Let the horses water-”
“I said take your hand off me!”
Renda grinned. “Like nobody ever touched you before.”
The quirt came up. Before Renda saw it, the rawhide lashed across his face; before he could bring up his hands the whip came back stinging across his eyes, and as he covered his face Karla ran.
Five strides and she was in her saddle, spurring, reining tight to the left, cracking the quirt across the rump of Renda’s mount, then at Renda as he ran to her, as he caught her leg, almost pulling her from the saddle. She swung viciously again and again, the quirt hissing, slashing at his straining upturned face, until suddenly he was no longer there.
As Renda went down, Karla’s horse broke into a gallop. Over her shoulder she saw Renda on the ground, now rising to his feet and pausing to look after her, now running for his horse as it disappeared into the sycamore grove.
It rushed through Karla’s mind that she was heading up canyon. To return home the way she had come, she would have to come about and run past Renda. He would have caught his horse by the time she passed the sycamores and would overtake her easily before she reached the end of the canyon. So there was no choice.
She would go to the camp. There were people there, and even if they worked for Renda it would be better there than being alone. He would follow her; but he would have had time to think of what he had done. Lizann would be there. She would tell Lizann about it and Frank Renda would have something else to think about. She could worry about returning home when the time came.
To her right, the wagon-trail wash came winding down through the talus and Karla reined toward it. Reaching the rim of the canyon she stopped long enough to look back. Far below her Renda, mounted again, was moving unhurriedly up the new stretch of road.
Minutes later, Karla was riding down the slope that stretched to the convict camp. The gate guard recognized her two hundred yards out. He unlocked the chain and swung half of the gate open to let Karla ride in.
“Is Mrs. Falvey home?”
The guard looked over toward the ramada. “That’s her horse. I judge she’s fixing for a ride.”
“I want to deliver her mail,” Karla said.
“Go right ahead, honey.”
Karla dismounted. She glanced at the bundle of letters as if to leaf through them. “Maybe there’s something for you.”
The guard shook his head. “Don’t take the bother to look.”
“If you’re that sure-” Karla said. She looked back as the guard started to swing the gate closed. He hesitated, squinting out into the glare and she knew he had seen the dust line coming down the slope.
“You might as well leave it open,” Karla said.
Now they could make out the form of horse and rider. Still squinting the guard asked, “Who is it?”
“Your boss,” Karla said. She moved away then, leading her horse toward the main adobe. Reaching the end of the building, she entered the shade of the ramada and moved along the edge of it to the support post where Lizann’s horse stood. She half-hitched her reins to the post and walked over to the Falveys’ quarters.
As she stepped into the doorway, Bowen and Lizann turned, moving apart, Lizann’s arms coming down from Bowen’s shoulders. Bowen’s hand pushed into his shirt front, but not quickly enough. Karla had already seen the revolver in his hand.
“Renda’s coming,” Karla said tonelessly.
Bowen moved to the door. He looked out, then to Karla close to him in the doorway. “You didn’t see anything, did you?”
She shook her head.
“Listen,” Bowen said urgently. “I want to say a lot of things, but there isn’t time. Just promise me you won’t-”
“You’d better hurry,” Karla said. Her eyes moved from Bowen’s. She felt him brush past her. Then, when she turned, she saw him out beyond the two horses, walking across the yard toward the stable, glancing toward the gate as Renda entered the compound.
Lizann said, “Is he there?” She moved closer to the door in time to see Renda ride over to stop Bowen. There was a silence in the adobe as they watched the two men: Bowen standing in front of Renda’s horse looking up at him and they could see Renda was speaking. In front of the barracks, the convicts were watching and now the yard was quiet. They saw Renda step out of the saddle. Bowen’s hand went to the front of his shirt and the hand scratched at his stomach idly. Renda was speaking. Bowen nodded. A minute passed, not more than a minute. Then, Bowen nodded again and turned away, going on toward the stable, as Renda caught up his reins and led his horse toward the adobe quarters.
Close to her, Karla heard a soft, exhaling sigh from Lizann. Karla’s gaze remained on Bowen. She did not turn, not even when Lizann spoke.
“You and Corey have met before.”
Karla nodded. “Did you give him the gun?”
“What gun?”
“That’s not the way to help him!” Karla turned as she spoke.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I saw the gun-”
“You told Corey you didn’t see anything.”
“As far as anyone else is concerned.”
“Why do you think I gave it to him?”
Karla glanced through the doorway, seeing Renda approaching, then back to Lizann. “Tell him not to use it. Please tell him that. Not now. Something has come up.”
“You make very little sense,” Lizann said.
“You don’t have to understand it. Just tell him! If you wanted to help him enough to give him a gun then tell him!”
“Tell him what?”
“That the lawyer has found new evidence. Important enough to warrant a new trial. He’s already filed the motion and it’s only a matter of weeks-” Karla broke off hearing Renda’s voice.
“Well…Miss Demery.”
Lizann turned back into the room. She went to the canvas chair and sat down. Karla stepped back from the doorway as Renda entered.
“Why don’t you come in?” Lizann said. “Make yourself at home.”
Renda looked at her. “What’re you edgy about…something this girl told you?”
“She hasn’t told me anything.”
He turned to Karla. “You change your mind about causing a fuss?”
“I told you what I’m going to do.”
“You want me to tell Lizann?” Renda asked.
“If you don’t,” Karla said. “I will.”
“You could be a damn sight easier to get along with.” He looked at Lizann again. “I opened a couple of Willis’s letters by mistake, but Karla thinks I done it on purpose.”
“You know he did,” Karla said.
“So Karla thinks she’s going to make trouble for me,” Renda went on. “Going to tell her father about it. And claims he’ll call in a federal marshal. So if Karla’s going to go to all that trouble, I’m not about to admit reading the letters. Am I, Lizzy?”
“You’re admitting it right now,” Karla said. “In front of Mrs. Falvey.”
Renda’s gaze moved to Lizann. “Did you hear me admit anything?” Lizann said nothing and Renda’s eyes returned to Karla. “If a federal marshal stopped by here, Lizzy wouldn’t know anything about it.”