A few seconds of silence went by before Hansen answered, “I want that Jew!”
“Which Jew, Hansen? There are three of us in here!”
Ed looked at Neal and raised his eyebrows.
Neal whispered back, “Well, I could be, couldn’t I?”
It took Hansen a minute or so to digest the information, then he shouted, “Which three?”
Neal yelled, “Hansen, I’m not playing these games with you! Here’s the deaclass="underline" you give the women and the child safe passage out of here! And we have a wounded man-he goes too! When we see them safely gone, we come out!”
“Your wounded! Is he that one-armed man?”
“He is!”
“Is he a Jew too?”
“He’s as Irish as a hangover!”
“Let me think on it a minute!”
“Don’t take too long! It’s my last offer!”
Neal waited and enjoyed the sweet silence. When you’re trying to bargain your life away, he thought, the small pleasures are enough.
Then he heard Hansen yell, “Why do you want the boy?”
“I’m sending him back to his mother!”
“Why is that so damn important?”
“It’s what I came here to do!”
There was a long silence and Neal felt the deal slipping away.
“Hey, Hansen!” Neal yelled. “It’s what Jory wanted! It’s why he took me to the cave!”
One long moment.
“All right!” Hansen yelled. “You have a deal! But know I mean to kill you!”
No shit. “I mean to kill you too, Bob!” Neal shouted. “But are we going to have a fair fight?”
“What do you mean?” Hansen yelled.
“I mean you have a dozen or so guys out there! There are three of us! Why don’t you have a few of your boys sit this one out?”
“Why should I?”
Good question. “Because this is personal, Hansen!” Neal yelled. “You’re not afraid of three Jews, are you, Bob?” Come on, Bob. Put your prejudice ahead of your brains. It’s our only chance.
Neal, Steve, and Ed exchanged looks as they waited.
It seemed like a long time before Hansen shouted, “Okay! Three of us against three of you!”
“Four.”
Joe Graham was standing on the stairway, gripping the rail to keep himself on his feet.
“Four,” Graham repeated. “You screw-ups will need an extra hand, which is just what I have.”
“Dad, you can barely walk.”
“That’s only because I keep tripping over my dick.”
“You’re leaving,” Ed said. “That’s an order.”
Graham grabbed his own crotch. “Order this.”
Ed looked at Neal and shrugged.
Neal shouted out the window, “Make that four, Hansen! Four of you against four of us!”
“None of your Jew tricks, either!” Hansen answered. “Out here in the open! In the corral!”
“None of your Jew tricks, Ed,” Neal said. Then he shouted. “Okay!”
“Send out the women!”
Ed shook his head and pointed to his watch.
“No!” Neal shouted. “I don’t trust you that much! We’ll wait until daybreak when we can see the road!”
Hansen hollered, “Okay! But that’s it! When the sun comes up!”
Neal turned to Steve. “You haven’t heard a weather report, have you?
Cal Strekker heard it all and couldn’t believe his ears. Couldn’t believe that Hansen would fall for this “fair fight” bullshit.
But it might work out, he thought. Might work out so all the witnesses to what had happened might end up dead. And if it didn’t work out that way, well… he’d have to see that it worked out. There were other groups out there looking to fight. The battle would go on.
He rested his sore ankle for a few minutes and then moved on. He’d wanted to get a position with a good view of the corral and be in place before dawn.
It came in a hurry.
The storm passed and a bright orange sun rose over the Toiyabes.
Ed and Graham kept guard as Steve opened the sliding glass door and Peggy and Shelly stepped out onto the porch.
Karen, with Cody in her arms, turned at the door and started to argue with Neal again. “I’m a better shot than you and-”
“You have a job to do. Do it.”
“This ‘women and children first’ stuff-”
Neal took her by the elbow. “I need you to do this. I don’t know that they’re going to honor the deal. You may have to fight your way through. Can you do that?”
Neal watched those incredible eyes flash in anger. “We’ll get through,” she said.
“I know you will.”
They walked out onto the porch.
Neal hollered into the air, “Hansen, we’re taking them to the car! Step out in the open!”
Hansen walked out of the barn.
“I have a rifle aimed right at your heart!” Ed yelled. “If anything-”
“Don’t worry!”
Steve put his arms around his wife and daughter and they walked toward Karen’s Jeep. Neal and Karen followed.
As they came around the house into the driveway Neal could see Bob Hansen standing near the corral and the barrel of Ed’s rifle sticking out the window. He glanced up and saw men in the hay barn, high up behind stacks of bales, looking down. He could feel eyes on him, feel the hatred.
Steve held Shelly in his arms and kissed her cheek.
“See you in a little while, tiger,” he said. “I love you.”
“I love you too.”
Steve felt her tears on his cheek. “Don’t cry, sweetheart. Nothing bad’s going to happen.”
“I know.”
She hugged him hard and then climbed into the backseat of the Jeep.
Steve and Peggy looked at each other.
“Gunfight at the OK Corral, huh?” Peggy said.
“I guess.”
“I’ll bring help,” she said.
“I know you will. Oh, and beer and cigarettes, too, okay?”
She came into his arms.
“Damn, how I’ve loved you,” he said. “And all I’ve given you is twenty years of crazy.”
“Wouldn’t have missed it for the world.”
They kissed and he helped her into the passenger seat.
Neal and Karen stared at each other. They wanted to embrace, but something stopped them.
Too many lies between us, Neal thought.
Karen held the sleeping Cody out to him.
“You want to say good-bye?” she asked.
Neal kissed the boy on the cheek. “See you, kid. Tell your mom I said hello.”
Neal and Karen avoided each other’s eyes.
“You’d better get going,” Neal said. “Be careful, huh?”
“Oh, yeah.”
She got behind the wheel, shut the door, and started the car. She put it into four-wheel drive to deal with the snow.
Neal tapped on the window and she rolled it down.
“You have Anne Kelley’s phone number?” he asked.
“In my pocket.”
“Okay.”
Their eyes met for a second. Then Karen rolled the window up, put the car in gear, and headed for the road.
Neal and Steve watched them go.
“I’ll bet that coffee’s ready,” Steve said.
“Good.”
They walked back inside the house.
Bob Hansen stepped back inside the barn. He knew the women wouldn’t get far. Finley and the Johnson brothers would intercept them on the road once the car got out of view of the house.
Then he’d take the boy and go. Maybe up to northern Idaho or Washington State, where he could hide out. Maybe overseas to South Africa, where there were white men who wanted to stay in the fight. He’d leave the valley and raise this child right, this time. Raise him to love his race and not be ashamed of it.
But there was business to finish here first.
“You boys about ready?” he asked.
Craig Vetter nodded. He was carefully cleaning his gun, checking his loads.
Bill McCurdy grinned and giggled.
Dave Bekke looked scared, but Hansen knew he’d go through with it.
Hansen looked up into the hayloft where the men were hiding behind the bales.
“Are you men ready?” he asked.
One of them gave him a thumbs-up signal.
“Remember,” Hansen said. “These are the dirty Jews who killed Reverend Carter.”
Then Hansen looked back east, toward the mountains where Carter had died. Carter and his own son. Hansen saw the sun clear the mountain.