“Now you’re the one that wants me to join your army, that it?” Captain McQuade laughed a little but his long face settled back into lines that seemed even more dour than usual. His eyes had an ominous murky color; he seemed unnaturally tired. He uncorked a jug and offered it to Boag: pure tequila, the kind that burned all the way down.
“I’m sorry Boag. For one thing Pickett’s a civilian and that puts him out of my reach. But for another thing I’ve got a campaign going here and I haven’t got time chasing off with you after some pipe dream of glory. I guess you’re still in a real sweat to get killed, aren’t you.”
“Captain I ain’t asking you to fight my war for me. But I need a little backing. Logistical. I think it’d be worth your while on the chance it would take him out. Mr. Pickett.”
“What kind of logistical backing, Boag?”
“Mainly one of them Gatling guns you got.”
“I’m sorry. That’s out of the question.”
“I’d be pleased to pay for it. I can lead you to twenty-five hundred dollars real quick-like. You get the money first, then I take the Gatling gun. Just a loan for a little spell, you understand. You’ll get the gun back but you keep the twenty-five hundred dollars. You boys need money don’t you? That’s a pretty high rental fee.”
He never trusted anyone entirely. He had the money right outside in his saddlebag, the half brick of gold, but he wasn’t about to admit that.
“I’ll have to think on that,” Captain McQuade said. “We need every gun, Boag.”
“Twenty-five hundred dollars U.S., Captain.”
“I’ll think on it. You had any grub tonight?”
“Not yet.”
“Neither have I. Let’s fit our bellies around something.”
The coffee smoked as it poured into Boag’s cup; it made a good smell. He was reminded of the musky smell of Dorotea’s breasts.
“You’ve got twenty-five hundred dollars,” Captain McQuade said. “Why don’t you quit? Even a train stops.”
“Well I still got a thing or two to settle with Mr. Pickett.”
“It gravels me to see a good man ask for killing. You’re just standing out there like Custer, Boag. Pickett’s just waiting for you to get a little closer to him so he can stick it in your back and break it off.”
“It wouldn’t be the first time he tried that. I found those two rawhiders of his down to Tres Osos. I’m obliged to you for the word on that.”
“That where you got all this money you’re waving around at me?”
“Aeah.”
“Well that bought you a little time, I guess.”
“That’s all any of us got, Captain. A little time between birth and death.”
“Don’t you go wise man on me, Boag Look, join up with me. Between us we’ll get rid of Pesquiera and that’ll put the slide under Jed Pickett. We’re both on the same side of this. And God knows I still need you. All I’ve got around here is fools with cranberries for cojones.”
“It still ain’t my war, Captain.”
“Now quit waving your conscience around. You want Pickett a lot worse than I do.”
“And I’m gon get him. But my way, Captain.”
Captain McQuade rubbed the back of his head, bobbing and ducking his head. Very tired. Finally he said, “Well I’m sorry Boag but I can’t let you have a ten-barrel gun. We’re short of them and besides if yours fell into Pickett’s hands that would be one more Gatling out against us. But you got anything else I can provide?”
“A few things I could use. A coil of heavy-gauge wire. A few kegs of blasting powder. Maybe half a dozen rifles. A few hundred rounds ammunition. A couple good hundred-foot lassos. One first-rate long-range rifle. Thirty-eight fifty-six if you got one. I had one but they took it off me in Ures. A few gallons of kerosene, a couple blankets. A buckboard to carry it all. And maybe you could cut me out a horse to haul the wagon.”
“Boag you’re putting me ass-deep in requisitions.” Captain McQuade looked pained. “I’ve got damn little to spare in this camp.”
“I’ll pay you for it, Captain.”
Captain McQuade did not stir; only the eyes moved. They settled on Boag with enormous disgust. Captain McQuade picked up a twig and burrowed it into his ear and examined it and threw it away, and in the end he said, “I can let you have the kerosene. The blankets and the lassos, all right. I can probably even scare up a few beat-up carbines and a little ammunition. If I can find any construction wire I’ll let you have a roll. But a good long rifle and blasting powder and a buckboard? Those I can’t spare, Boag.”
It was what Boag had expected but he had tried it first; you had to.
He stood up and raised the tent flap to look outside. Then he turned back and when Captain McQuade lifted the ruby coals of his eyes, Boag flicked out a revolver and cocked it with a series of ominous clicks. “Let me see your holster gun a minute, Captain.”
“What the hell?”
Boag took the revolver from him. Emptied it and handed it back to Captain McQuade.
“Aw Boag,” Captain McQuade said in disgust.
“Well I’m sorry Captain. If I had another way I’d do it.”
“You won’t get ten feet from here. Not alive.”
“Sure I will. Because nobody’s going to know about it except you and me, and you ain’t going to talk up.”
“Why won’t I?”
“Because I just unloaded your gun, Captain, and I got mine pointed at you, and if you hear a loud noise it will be you dying.”
“They’ll know, Boag. They’ll shoot you full of holes.”
“Not as long as I stick close to you like a burr. Captain they need you so bad they can taste it. You’re a first-class soldier and they ain’t got another one like you in all of Sonora. They can’t afford to open up shooting if you could get hit. So it ain’t much risk for either of us so long as you play by my rules. It ain’t going to hurt you, all you’ll lose is a little sleep.”
“Boag if you knew how much sleep was worth to me right now.…”
“Sure enough. Well now you can pucker up your asshole and walk out of here right in front of me. I ain’t gon show my gun but it’ll be right handy if I need it. All you got to do is tell your boys to rustle up that order of mine. Including the Gatling gun.”
Captain McQuade tipped his head just a little bit to one side. He watched Boag and didn’t say anything. It was as if he was waiting to wake up from a tedious dream. Out on the picket line Boag could hear the light thud of hoof, the swish of tail.
“Come on now Boag, you’re not going to shoot me.”
“Captain I’ll shoot your ears off one at a time and then I’ll go for your kneecaps. You won’t be able to ride, let alone walk. You try me.”
“What the hell. I thought you were a friend of mine.”
“Another time I’ll apologize for this, Captain.”
Captain McQuade went toward the tent flap. Boag said, “Kindly don’t tell me I won’t get away with it.”
“You don’t mind if I think it, do you?” Captain McQuade’s face was composed into lines indicative of mild scorn but it seemed directed at himself as much as at Boag. He batted the tent flap back and Boag went outside with him.
The wind ruffled the blue lining of Captain McQuade’s cape. Boag stood close behind him and watched the troops load the wagon, grunting under the weight of the powderkegs and the dismounted Gatling gun. Gnats and flies swarmed around a dribble of horse dung near Boag’s feet.
A Mexican brought Boag’s horse along and Boag told him to tie it to the tailboard of the wagon.