"That was good ridin', boy," the man said. He threw the tobacco pouch to Max. "Here, have yourself a smoke."
Max caught it easily. "Thanks, mister," he said. He looked down at the pouch to open it. He looked up at the man, then down at the pouch again, his face going pale.
The pouch fell from his fingers and the tobacco spilled onto the ground. He stared up at the man. "I never would've known you, you hadn't done that," he said softly.
Dort laughed harshly. "It's the beard, I reckon."
Max started to back away slowly. "You're one of them, all right. Now I recognize you."
"I'm one of them," Dort said, his hand hovering over his gun. "What're you goin' to do about it?"
Unconsciously Farrar and the others moved to the side. "Don't do anything, Max," Farrar called hoarsely. "That's Tom Dort. You got no idea how fast he is."
Max didn't take his eyes from Dort's face. "It don't make no difference how fast he is, Mr. Farrar," he said. "I'm goin' to kill him."
"Go for your gun, Injun," Dort said heavily.
"I’ll wait," Max said softly. "I want you to die slow, like my ma."
Dort's face was turning red and flushed in the hot sun. "Draw," he said hoarsely. "Draw, you goddam half-breed son of a two-bit Injun whore. Draw, damn you!"
"I ain' in no hurry to kill you," Max answered softly. "I ain' even goin' for your head or heart. I'm goin' to shoot you in the balls first, then a couple of times in the belly. I wanna watch you die."
Dort began to feel fear growing in him. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the watching men. He stared at Max. The boy's face shone with hatred; his lips were drawn back tightly across his teeth.
Now, Dort thought, now. I might just as well get it over with. His hand moved suddenly toward his gun.
Farrar saw the movement but fast as he shifted his eyes, it wasn't quick enough to see Max's gun leap into his hand. It roared almost before Dort's gun had cleared its holster.
The gun fell from Dort's hand and he sank to his knees in the dirt, his hands grabbing at his crotch.
Max started walking toward him slowly.
Dort kneeled there for a moment in almost a praying position, then lifted his hand and looked at it. The blood ran down from his fingers. He stared up at Max. "You son of a bitch!" he screamed and grabbed for the gun in the dirt beside him.
Max waited until Dort lifted the muzzle toward him, then he fired twice again.
The bullets threw Dort over backward and he lay on the ground, his body twitching slightly. Max walked closer and stood over him, looking down, the smoking gun still in his hand.
Two days later, Max was given his choice of joining the Army or standing trial. There was a lot of talk about a war with Cuba and the judge was very patriotic. The chances were Max could have got off on self-defense, but he didn't dare take the chance even with witnesses.
He had a date he had to keep, with a man whose name he didn't even know.
7
NEVADA STIRRED RESTLESSLY, WITH THE VAGUE feeling that someone else was in the room with him. Automatically he reached for a cigarette, and when his hand hit empty air and fell downward against the side of the couch, he came awake.
It was a moment before he remembered where he was, then he swung his legs off the couch and reached for his pants. The cigarettes were in the right-hand pocket. He put one in his mouth and struck a match.
The flame flared in the darkness and he saw Rina sitting in the deep chair, looking at him. He drew deeply on the cigarette and blew out the match. "Why ain't you sleeping?" he asked.
She took a deep breath. "I couldn't sleep," she said. 'I’m afraid."
He looked at her quizzically. "Afraid, Rina? Afraid of what?"
She didn't move in the chair. "I'm afraid of what will happen to me."
He laughed quietly, reassuringly. "You're all set and you're young. You got your whole life in front of you."
Her face was a luminous shadow in the darkness. "I know," she whispered. "That's what I tell myself. But the trouble is I can't make myself believe it."
Suddenly, she was on her knees on the floor in front of him. "You've got to help me, Nevada!"
He reached out and stroked her hair. "Things take time, Rina," he said.
Her hands caught at his. "You don't understand, Nevada," she said harshly. "I've always felt like this. Before I married Cord, before I ever came out here. Even when I was a little girl."
"I reckon, sometime or other, everyone's afraid, Rina."
Her voice was still hoarse with terror. "But not like me! I'm different. I'm going to die young of some horrible disease. I know that, Nevada. I feel it inside."
Nevada sat there quietly, his hand absently stroking her head as she cried. "Things'll be different once you get back East," he said softly. "There'll be young men there an- "
She raised her hand and looked up at him. The first faint flicker of morning light illuminated her features. Her eyes were wide and shining with her tears. "Young men, Nevada?" she asked and her voice seemed to fill with scorn. "They're one of the things I’m afraid of. Don't you think if I weren't, I'd have married Jonas instead of his father?"
He didn't answer.
"Young men are all alike," she continued. "They only want one thing from me." Her lips drew back across her white teeth and she spat the words out at him. "To fuck! To do nothing but fuck, fuck, fuck!"
He stared at her, a kind of shock running through him at hearing her clear and venomously ladylike articulation of the so familiar word. Then it was gone and he smiled.
"What do you expect, Rina?" he asked. "Why are you tellin' me all this?"
Her eyes looked into his face. "Because I want you to know me," she said. "I want you to understand what I'm like. No man ever has."
The cigarette scorched his lips. He put it out quickly. "Why me?"
"Because you're not a boy." The answer came quickly. "You're a grown man."
"An' you, Rina?" he asked.
Her eyes became almost defiant but her voice betrayed her unsureness. "I think I'm a Lesbian."
He laughed.
"Don't laugh!" she said quickly. "It's not so crazy. I've been with girls and I've been with men. And I've never made it with a man, not with any man like I have with a girl." She laughed bitterly. "Men are such fools. It's so easy to make them believe what they want to. And I know all the tricks."
His male vanity was aroused. "Maybe that's because you ain't never come up against a real man."
A challenging note came into her voice. "Oh, no?" He felt her fingers lightly search his thighs beneath the blanket and find his phallus. Quickly she threw the blanket aside and pressed her head into his lap. He felt the movement of her lips, and suddenly he was angry.
He pulled her head back by the hair. "What're you tryin' to prove?" he asked harshly.
Her breath came hard and uneven. "That you're the man," she whispered. "The one man that can make me feel."
He stared at her, not answering.
"You are the one, Nevada," she whispered. "I know it. I can feel it down inside me. You can make me whole again. I’ll never be afraid any more."
She turned her head again but his hand held her firm. Her eyes were wide and desperate. "Please, Nevada, please. Let me prove how I can love you!" She began to cry again.
Suddenly, he got to his feet and went over to the fireplace. He stirred the coals alive, fed them kindling and another log. A moment later, a crackling heat came sparkling into the room. He turned to look at her. She was still sitting on the floor in front of the couch, watching him.
Slowly he walked back toward her. "When I asked you up here, Rina, I thought I was doin' the right thing." He sat down and reached for a cigarette.
Before he could light it, she held a match for him. "Yes, Nevada?" she questioned softly.
The flame glowed in his eyes and died as the match went out. "I ain't the man you're lookin' for, Rina."
Her fingers touched lightly on his cheek. "No, Nevada," she said quickly. "That's not true."