“It's gonna be over soon,” Bren said.
“I know it is. You bring this Moon to me and we'll make a deal.”
“His name's Dana…Dana Moon,” Bren said.
“That's fine. Go get him. Tell him we'll meet at his office or mine, I don't care. Criminal charges against him will be dropped. We'll pay for-no, we'll work out some plan of assistance for anyone whose home or crops were damaged. Tell him any future survey work will be done in isolated areas.”
Bren said, “Ah, now we're getting to it. You haven't found the copper you thought you would, huh?”
“I can say test samples have been misleading, promising more than the locations would ever yield,” Vandozen said. “But that's beside the point. I made an error in judgment, this business going on; allowed it to take on far more prominence-considerably more of my time than it's worth. So you and I are going to bring it to a halt.”
“I don't believe it's part of my job,” Bren said, “since I'm not a messenger boy.”
Vandozen looked at him for what seemed a long time, though perhaps only ten seconds. “What is your job?” he asked.
“I don't know. Tell me.”
“Isn't this Moon a friend of yours?”
“Dana Moon.”
“You two, I understand, used to be close friends?”
“What's that got to do with it?”
“Don't you want to help him?”
“Dana can handle it himself.”
“For God's sake-” Janet Pierson said.
The two men looked at her seated in the straight chair, away from them.
“I'm sorry,” she said. “I didn't mean to interrupt.”
“Mrs. Pierson understands,” Vandozen said. “Or, I should say, she doesn't understand why you don't want to help your friend.” Still with the quiet tone.
“I didn't say I wouldn't help him.”
“Or why you don't want to help the company. You're a stockholder…making, what?, ten thousand dollars a year. Why would you knowingly act in violation of your contract?”
“Knowing what?”
“Well, doing anything that's not in the company's best interest. That's standard in any employee contract.”
“The fine print, huh?”
“You don't recall reading that?”
Bren didn't answer. He sat with his cognac, looking at Vandozen, a question in his mind, but afraid Vandozen's answer would destroy his plan completely. Still he had to ask it.
“What about Sundeen? You call him off?”
“Not yet.”
Bren let his breath out slowly. “When you gonna see him?”
“He's to see me first thing in the morning.”
“So he doesn't know about this yet.”
“He'll be fired five minutes after he walks in the office.”
Bren sat in the deep chair another moment, comfortable, beginning to feel pretty good, yes, confident again. He finished his cognac and pulled himself out of the chair.
“Well, I might as well get going. You'll know something tomorrow.”
Janet Pierson said, “Do you mind? It's stuffy in here.”
Vandozen watched her raise the window and stand looking out, her back to him.
“Why does he have to go tonight?”
“Because he's childish,” Vandozen said. “He has to go out and kick rocks, or run his horse till it lathers.” He reached over to place his glass on the end table and sat back again.
“He is like a little boy,” Janet said.
“Yes, he is…Why don't you come over here?” Vandozen watched her turn from the window. “Come on…sit here.”
When she was next to him, on the edge of the settee, he put his hand on her shoulder and brought her gently back against the cushion. His hand remained as he said, “Tell him you're leaving.”
She looked at his face that was lined but not weathered, the skin on his neck loose, crepe-like, in the starched white collar.
“I admired you when you admitted you'd made a mistake.”
“Not a mistake, a misjudgment. Come to Lordsburg with me.”
“Don't you have a wife?”
“In New Jersey. Not in New Mexico, Colorado or Arizona.”
“I admired the way you never raised your voice, even when you said things with feeling.”
“Yes,” Vandozen said, drawing her against his shoulder, “in certain areas I have firm convictions and feelings.”
4
Bren sat at a corner table in the Oriental. He let Sundeen take his time and look around. When Sundeen finally came over he pulled out the chair across from Bren and sat down.
“Now then,” Sundeen said, “where were we?”
“They're trying to call the game.” Bren sat with his hands flat on the table. “Vandozen says he's had enough of your monkeyshines. He's gonna fire you tomorrow, and all those hoboes you got riding for you.”
Sundeen nodded, not surprised. “You would think he had something personal to do with this.” He sat back in his Douglas chair saying, “Shit.”
“There's hope,” Bren said, “if you can get your misfits out of town before morning. He can't find you, he can't fire you, can he?”
“I don't know-don't many of 'em snap to as they should,” Sundeen said. “There's some mean Turks, but most of 'em ain't worth cow shit.”
“How many you need?…How many does Moon have?”
“Who in the hell knows? All I seen was women and little kids.”
“Some Mexicans with their hands tied, I understand.”
“And their eyes open. They knew what they were doing. I cut the ropes, let 'em hold their old cap-n-balls, they'd still be dead, wouldn't they? I lost men blown to hell from a distance. Are we talking about rules of some kind or what?”
“We're getting off track,” Bren said.
“You're the one called this,” Sundeen said, his snarly, ugly nature peeking through. “We can settle up right now, you want, and quit talking about it.”
“You got spirit,” Bren said, “but save it and let's do this show with a little style. You don't want to meet in some back alley; you got a reputation to think of-as poor as it is.”
“Jesus,” Sundeen said, on the edge now, hands gripping the arms of his chair.
Like working a wild stallion, hold him on the line, but don't let him break his neck. Bren said, “If you're big enough to handle your men, gather 'em and head up to White Tanks. I'll get Moon, whatever people he's got…You come up the draw and we'll meet at his place.”
Sundeen said, “Through that steep-sided chute? You must believe I'm dumb.”
“Scout it. Turn all the rocks over, you want. I'm talking about we meet at the top, have a stand-up battle like we had in Sonora. Quit this tracking around and do the thing right.” Bren paused. Sundeen remained silent. “Unless you lack the gristle.”
Sundeen said, “You don't need to prod, if that's what you're doing. I'm thinking.” And said then, “Why don't we meet at White Tanks?”
“Moon won't do it, I'll tell you that right now. He'll fight for his home, but not for any government layout. He doesn't look at this the way you and I do.”
Sundeen was thoughtful again. “It would make some noise, wouldn't it?”
“Hear it clear across the country,” Bren said. “Get your name in the history book.”
Sundeen grinned then, tickled. “Jesus Christ, is this the way it's done?”
“Why not? Better than maybe we meet sometime maybe we don't.”
“Well…Moon's place then. I guess it's as good as another.”
As Sundeen got up, Bren said, “Whatever happened to that old segundo of yours?”
“Ruben Vega,” Sundeen said. “He tried to change sides and didn't make it.”
“That's too bad. He seemed a good one for his age.”
“Yeah, he was quicker than most,” Sundeen said, “but in this game there ain't any second prize, is there?”