"I can understand that now," I replied dryly. He chuckled and went on with his cooking. Right soon he dished it up on tin plates, fried beans, bacon, biscuits. "Set to, Cardinal. We'll talk later."
Lord, that food was good, tasty as the deuce. I commented on that. Jordan laughed shortly. "I believe in traveling in comfort. Never did hold with these hombres who take pride in travelin' rough and eating cold fodder." He reached for the coffeepot and filled my cup again.
When we had finished he scoured the dishes with a rag and loose sand, then asked me to rinse 'em off. By stretching prone on the flat rock I could just reach the water. Coming down from an elevation it was, naturally, cold as ice. More and more the moon glints reminded me of sparkling diamonds. The water looked deep at this point too. I came back with the dishes and remarked that I almost felt like taking a swim.
"Go ahead, if you like, but that current runs swift. But not for me."
I decided against it too, thinking of how cold it was. Moonlight glinted on the gold badge on Jordan's vest as he stuffed a briar with tobacco. He waited until I had rolled a cigarette and then held the match flame for me. We puffed in silence for a few minutes, seated cross-legged on either side of the fire. He reached nearby and tossed some dried mesquite branches on the flames. They flared for a moment and then settled to a slow steady burning.
"We can have some habla, now," Jordan said. "I want to know a few things before I take you in."
"I reckon so," I gulped, jerking back to a realization that a lot of trouble lay before me. "There's just one thing I want to know—how did you manage to work around behind me this afternoon?"
"Didn't," he said shortly. "Didn't dast try after hearing about you being such a fast hand with weapons." I gave a short jeering laugh. He said, looking surprised, "Not true?"
"Not true," I told him.
A scowl crossed his face. He continued, "Anyway, I wanted you alive. I don't take to killin', less'n it's real necessary. I kept shooting high all the time—high or to one side—just to keep you from closing in on me. Nope, I never did get near you for a shot. Way I figure it, one of my slugs ricocheted off that big rock behind you and came flying back at an angle toward your head, just missing a solid hit. If you'd had your hat on it might have been deflected some, but it just managed to strike enough to knock you out, without really hitting square which would sure as hell finished you. All you lost is a mite of hair and a thin slice of skin. It'll be healed in a week. I looked around and found a flattened fragment of lead, so mebbe that was the chunk after it bounced back from your barrier."
"That clears things up—" I commenced.
"I'd waited a spell and when you didn't answer none of my yells, I took a chance. You were sprawled flat when I found you, dead to the world. I brought you back here, washed the cut and stuck on some court plaster. The whole business was just damn' convenient for me. I just never could get used to some feller throwing lead my direction. I always tote a mite of court plaster with me. It's handy for such wounds."
"I reckon I had a close call."
"I reckon," Jordan said bluntly. His manner changed somewhat. "I want to know a few things. What in the devil set you off on an outlaw trail?"
I told him the whole story, about old Pablo and Miguel and Mama Josefa, how they'd brought me up and were just like real parents and about Banker Kirby trying to practically steal their outfit. "It was the only way I could think of to get the money," I explained earnestly. "I owed 'em any help I could give—"
"I know all that," he cut in, "but—"
"You do?" I was surprised.
"I paid a visit to the Star-Cross, talked to old Pablo and his wife. Miguel was away someplace at the time. I talked to folks in Tenango City. You got a lot of friends there. Old Pablo finally understood where you got the money. He sold some cows and took it to Banker Kirby to pay him back. Kirby took the money, but refused to withdraw charges against you, claiming robbery, extortion and bodily harm—"
"Damn it," I half shouted, "I never harmed a hair of his head. Didn't even touch him. I'll admit I threatened him, sure—"
"That was enough. He claims that the fright has affected his heart and he hasn't been well since."
"A heart the size of a mustard seed—" I said furiously. "I can't believe my actions affected his health."
"Neither do I." Jordan laughed shortly. "I talked to him, you'll remember. A nasty old bastard, I'd call him."
"He's all of that," I said hotly. "It wouldn't bother me much if I had—"
"Oh, yes, it would," Jordan interrupted. "Now you just cool down. Sure, I heard all about your hot temper. Keep a clam on it for a spell. So, we've settled that part. Now, how about all these other jobs you've been pulling—bank robbery,- stage hold-ups, cattle rustlin'—Lord only knows what else."
"Not a damn word of truth in it," I stated earnestly. "I don't know what's got into law officers these days. Seems like they've taken to blaming me for every job pulled in their territories. I swear the only bad step I've made is that job at Kirby's bank."
"You certain?" Jordan said sharply. "I don't want to hear any lies."
"I sure as hell am. I'm just being blamed for a lot of jobs somebody else pulls. You know, give a dog a bad name—"
"I know how that goes," he growled an interruption. "Such things have happened before. For the present I'll take your word for it. But that don't clear you of the Banker Kirby business."
"I reckon not," I conceded glumly.
"Get yourself a good lawyer when we get back. A smart man could, maybe, get your sentence reduced a heap." I didn't have any answer to that, only a queer sinking feeling. Bars of steel, stone walls. A shudder coursed along my spine. Jordan glanced narrowly at me, saying, "You cold?" He tossed another mesquite branch on the fire. I started to roll a cigarette while he refilled his smelly briar pipe.
"Y'know," he went on, "I've wondered about those reward bills. Couldn't figure out how you could hit so many places so fast, unless your hawss had wings to speed you up. Thought there might be something fishy about those bills. It was like somebody had a grudge against you and was out to put you away for good, or get you killed. What's back of it, Cardinal?"
"You got me. I just never could understand it."
"You got any enemies in high places, men with influence?"
"The only enemy I can think of is Skinflint Kirby."
"Pshaw! Kirby wouldn't pay out the cash required for all those wanted bills. He'd do anything else to put you behind bars, though."
"That's as I see it, but I can't put a finger on anything else."
We chewed the rag a while longer and eventually got to calling each other by first names. Even if he was taking me in for trial, I couldn't help liking him. I said finally, "Anyway, thanks a lot."
"For what?"—sharply.
"For not putting a slug through my carcass when you had the chance, as some law officers might have done."
He glared at me a moment. "Some law officers. Hell, they don't deserve the name—dirty, lazy, grafting—shucks! let's forget it."
"I could forget it easier than I could some other things," I answered glumly.
"Yeah, I reckon so," he agreed. "Well, if we're to get a good start back, in the morning, I reckon we'd better turn in. I note you didn't have a bedroll with you."
"Me, I'm forced to travel light," I said bitterly, "light and fast and always glancing back over my shoulder. My saddle blanket serves when it's chilly."
"Yeah, I know how it is," he said shortly. "I got jammed up once myself, when I was a button, but it all passed over. You can roll into one of my blankets."
He rose and stretched, yawned. I got to my feet and sauntered out to the edge of the big flat rock, with the rushing water, foaming and swirling, just below me. The moon was lower now, but it was still tossing diamonds about on the surface of the river.