Part 9 (1/2)
”Jack?”
”How did you know that,” Jack said. ”Some kind of magic?”
”No,” Charlie said, rising onto his knees. ”I'm just good at guessing names.” Leaning forward, he held out his hand. ”Nice to meet you Jack.”
Jack didn't shake it.
”Sure is hot,” Charlie said, dropping his hand. ”It doesn't get this hot at the ranch.”
”Ranch?” Jack said. ”You are an Indian, aren't you?”
”Chewak nation,” he said proudly.
”Chewak?” Jack said. ”Then why do you look like a white man with your hat and your trousers? Why do you live on a ranch? Where's your buffalo skins and arrows?”
Charlie seemed to think about it. ”Well, my pa's white and my ma was Chewak, so I guess that's why.”
”A half-breed,” Jack said, nodding. ”Sorry for you.” He drew his knees up out of the sun. The shade helped a little, but he was still roasting.
”You sure you don't want some water?” Charlie asked.
”No,” Jack said.
”You could probably use some food,” Charlie said. ”I wish I had some. My horse and pack were stolen. Four men jumped me. They took everything but the canteen, I don't know why.”
Jack knew why.
”There's nothing to eat around here,” Charlie said. ”Just dirt and rocks.” He swished the water in his canteen. ”So, how'd you get here?”
”You hit me over the head with a rock.”
”No, I mean why are you in the Badlands?”
”Left home I guess.”
”Why did you do that?”
”Ain't your business, mixer.”
Charlie fixed the bowler onto his head. ”All right, you don't have to be that way about it. If you don't want to talk, then don't.”
”I won't,” Jack said. Talking was useless anyway. It didn't cool him down, quench his thirst, or fill his belly. And what would he tell this half-breed anyway? ”Well, I reckon I choked a wh.o.r.e, tore her up with my p.e.c.k.e.r and then skipped town.” Even a savage wouldn't take kindly to hearing that.
Beside the shelf, a rocky slope stretched down to the river path. It was steep, but he could most likely slide down on his backside. Judging from the sun, he had about an hour of light left. He wasn't sure how far he'd get, but it was better than sitting and jawing.
”Thanks for the head sore,” Jack said, crawling toward the slope. Moving into a sitting position, he started to inch his way down.
”Wait,” Charlie said.
”What?”
”Can I come with you?”
”No.”
”Why not?”
”Because I'm not going your way.”
”Is your way out of this place?”
”Well, yeah.”
”Then maybe we could help each other.”
”You got nothing and I got nothing,” Jack said. ”How could we help each other?”
”Thieves,” Charlie said, inching toward him. ”The sight of two travelers makes for harder pickings than just one, and they might leave us alone.”
Jack grunted. ”You're just scared.”
”Aren't you?”
”No.”
”Then you haven't seen this place at night.”
Jack dug his heels into the slope and looked around. He imagined shadows growing long under the rocks and spilling out of the crevices. He wondered what kind of things might lurk in a place like this.
”Look,” Charlie said. ”I just want out of here, nothing more. When we see gra.s.s, we'll part ways.”
Jack didn't trust the Indian, but he had made a good point. The valley held so many caves, crevices, and other hiding places that a man on his own would be easy pickings for a gang of roughriders. Or worse. In the dark, it could be like strolling through a bear cave.
”Fine,” Jack said. ”But as soon as we get out, we split.”
Charlie held out his hand. Jack hesitated, then shook it. Charlie's handshake was firm, but soft for a rancher.
”We move at dawn,” Charlie said.
”Dawn?” Jack said. ”You want to get out of here, don't you?”
”Yeah, but it's almost dark.” He nodded at the horizon. ”I don't want to lose the high ground.”
Jack noticed another bruise along his jaw and a bit of swelling under one eye. ”Them boys got you good, didn't they?”
Charlie nodded.