Gary nodded. He held up a butcher knife. "Or clean a rabbit," he said. His father's rifle was in town for repairs and the double-barreled shotgun had been loaned to a friend. Pete Cole usually carried his revolver in the pickup truck. It was going to be a long and lonely night.
The moonlight flooded through the window. The wind stirred the curtains.
"Kind'a cool in here, isn't it?" suggested Tuck.
Gary got up and walked to the window. He looked up toward The Needle. It was bright with moonlight. He slid down the window and, as he turned toward the bed, his eye caught a quick spark of light, high on the canyon wall beyond the huge mass of The Needle. He turned quickly. But there was no sign of light now. Nothing but the silvery wash of the cold moonlight on the silent canyon and the brooding Needle.
3
Stranger in the Dawn
The incessant barking of a dog aroused Gary from a deep sleep. He sat up suddenly, startled and confused. He recognized Lobo's deep voice. Gary thrust his legs from beneath the blanket and stood up. It was still dark outside and he had no idea what time it was. He padded to the door of the bedroom and opened it to step into the hallway. Lobo was still barking furiously.
He walked across the dark living room and peered through a window. It was dark all right but there was a faint suggestion of dawn in the sky. He could locate Lobo by the sound of his barking but he could not see the big dog.
"What is it?" asked Tuck from the hallway.
"I don't know," answered Gary. He peered from one side of the front yard to the other, seeing nothing that would alarm the big dog, but he knew well enough that Lobo wasn't a habitual barker.
Gary eased the bar from the door and slowly opened it. He stepped outside and flattened himself against the front wall of the house. He could hear Tuck's quick and irregular breathing just behind him. "I got the hatchet," said Tuck.
"Shut up!" hissed Gary.
Objects in the yard were dimly outlined against the graying sky. The windmill was still. Gary crouched and walked along the porch until he was at the northern end of it. He unconsciously glanced toward the Espectros, seeing nothing but their huge and indistinct outline against the sky. A cold whisper of the dawn wind crept along the desert, rustling the leaves of the trees beside the house. The vanes of the windmill hummed a little.
Lobo suddenly stopped barking. A low growl came from him. He was near the low stock shed north of the house. Gary could just make him out. There was a pick handle leaning against the side of the house. Gary gripped it and started toward the dog. As long as Lobo was alert no one would bother Gary.
He was within twenty feet of Lobo when the dog suddenly stopped growling. Gary had an uneasy feeling of being watched. He turned quickly, not really expecting to see anything out of the usual, but when he did, his heart seemed to skip a beat and his throat suddenly went dry.
A hatless man stood beyond the fieldstone wall looking directly at him. He had a rifle in his hands. Gary froze. Every instinct within him cried out to run, run, run! He glanced at Lobo. The big dog was still alert, watching the stranger, but he wasn't growling as he should have been.
Gary looked again at the silent, menacing figure, hoping that it was a mirage conjured up by his vivid imagination.. It was still there. It moved. "Stay where you are!" said Gary. He raised the pick handle as though it were a rifle.
The figure raised the rifle it held. Gary's throat seemed to close up and his stomach turned to water. "Take it easy, Gary," said the man. "Found your rifle up the canyon late last night."
Gary stared at him. "Who is it?" he asked.
"Lije Purtis, Gary. You know me."
Gary nodded. Lije was a local character. A man who prowled the local countryside at all hours of the day and night, sleeping wherever he happened to be, living off handouts, or working just enough to pay for the next few meals. Lije never bothered anyone. That was why Lobo had stopped barking as soon as he had recognized the man.
"You want the rifle, Gary?" asked Lije.
"Sure, Lije." There was no use in talking sharply to the man for coming there in the predawn darkness with a rifle in his hands. It would do no good. "You hungry, Lije?" he asked.
"Always am, Gary."
"Come on in then." Gary patted Lobo. "Where have you been, you bum?" he asked.
Lobo barked shortly. He was a powerfully muscled dog, like a mastiff, with a brown and white pelt and a black face, a combination of several breeds.
Lije climbed over the fence and shambled toward them. "I see him now and then in the canyons," he said.
That was another odd thing about Lije. Lije would go into the Espectros, without water, food, blankets, or arms, stay as long as he liked, then wander out again, perhaps on the remote north side, or the wild east and west sides, sometimes on the more accessible south side. The local Apaches knew him well and took care of him when he wandered their way. "Mind-Gone-Far" they called him, for he was protected by the gods.
Lije handed Gary the rifle. He smiled vacantly, revealing his crooked yellow teeth and the gaps between them. His washed-out eyes never left Gary's face. Gary always had an odd feeling that Lije was enjoying some vast and secret joke of his own when he looked at people. Tuck always said that he wasn't quite sure who was crazy, Lije Purtis, or the rest of the world.
"Is it your rifle, Gary?" called Tuck.
"Yes."
"How did you know it was Gary's rifle?" asked Tuck of Lije.
"It is, ain't it?" said Lije.
"I know," said Tuck patiently. "But how did you know?"
No one seemed to know whether Lije could read and write. No one knew just how much Lije did know.
"It's Gary's," said Lije simply.
Gary looked at Tuck. Tuck shrugged. "Where did you find it, Lije?" asked Tuck. His shrewd blue eyes studied the man.
"Up the canyon."
"Where?"
"Behind a rock ledge. Lying on the ground it was."
An odd feeling came over Gary. He worked the lever. A spent cartridge case tinkled on the hard ground. Five more fresh cartridges were ejected from the rifle before it was emptied. He had loaded it the evening before with six rounds. "Did you shoot it, Lije?" he asked quietly.
Lije's eyes widened. "I don't even know how to shoot one, Gary," he said. "You know that!"
Gary nodded. He looked up toward The Needle now being bathed in the cold gray light. There was no use asking Lije how he happened to be up there during the night, or how he had stumbled upon the rifle — if he had just stumbled upon it.
"What's wrong, Gary?" asked Tuck.
Gary turned. "One round was fired. Lije didn't fire it. You follow me?"
Tuck rubbed his lean jaw. "Yeh," he said shamefacedly. "Maybe it fell over and discharged. Maybe that was the shot that stampeded us. I had an idea all the time it was that."
"Oh sure," said Gary dryly. "Seems to me you said something like this when I asked you if you had seen Asesino: 'Sure! Rose up like a jack-in-the-box atop The Needle! Aimed right at us! Lordy! Bullet nearly parted my hair, Gary!'"
Tuck flushed. "Well, a guy gets nervous like."
"Sure does." Gary looked at Lije. "You see anyone else up there, Lije?"
"No."
"You sure?"
The veil over the faded eyes was more pronounced. "You asked me if I was hungry, Gary," he said petulantly.
Gary nodded. "Sure, Lije." There was no use in going further with the man. Gary slowly reloaded the rifle. Lije shambled toward the house and walked in as though it were his own.
Tuck studied Gary. "Well?"
Gary shrugged. "It could have been my rifle that went off by accident. I had loaded the chamber and then leaned it against the rock dike. Careless of me."