“Don’t pump on the gas when you’re flooded. That only makes it worse.”
The driver scowled at him. “You shut up. I’ll manage this thing without any help from you.” He released the brake and the jeep started to roll forward, passing us.
“Goodbye,” Lee shouted after them. “Drive carefully.”
“Drive carefully,” I echoed.
They rolled down the road without replying, without looking back, while the motor gasped and coughed, choking on gasoline. In a minute they were out of sight and gone. I rode after Lee’s horse, caught it and brought it back to him. Lee sat on a rock, wiping the sweat from his face with a handkerchief and airing out his hat. “Thanks, Billy. My God it’s hot.”
My body was trembling. I felt too weak to get down off my horse.
“What a day,” Lee said. He grinned up at me. “What happened, anyway?”
“I thought—I thought he was going to shoot you.”
“And you threw that spear at him?” We looked at the yucca stalk, lying on the road near the body of thecoyote. We looked at the coyote. “Now why did I do that?” Lee asked. He got up slowly, replacing his hat on his head, took the coyote by the scruff of the neck, hauled him to the edge of the road and let him roll down into the woods. After a moment he came back to his rock in the shade and sat down again.
“What about the guns?”
“Yeah, the guns.” He looked at the guns. “We’ll stash them here in the rocks and pick them up on the way home tomorrow.” He sighed, a little wearily, then smiled at me. “Billy, would you mind getting that canteen out of the saddlebags? And I think you’ll find something to eat in there too.”
“You bet, Lee.” Shakily, I got off my horse.
“Billy?”
“Yes?”
“You know, Billy, that was a foolish thing I did. I could’ve got both of us killed. But those—those men made me so goddamned angry. They had no manners at all.”
“That’s right,” I said, unbuckling Lee’s saddlebag. “No manners at all.”
He sat musing, hat pushed back. “I wonder if they were officers or enlisted men?”
“They sure weren’t gentlemen.”
“I was an officer myself. That’s why I find it hard to tell.” He glanced at the tough sun blazing over us. “Well, anyway, I hope they make it down the mountain all right.”
“I hope they dont.”
“It’s a good thing your grandfather wasn’t here. He’d have killed those fellows. Strangled them with his bare hands.” I handed Lee the canteen and a sandwich wrapped in waxed paper. “One other thing, Billy …”
“What?” I unwrapped a sandwich.
“Better not tell him about this.”
“About the canteen?”
“About this incident here. The men in the jeep.”
“Why not, Lee?”
“I’m afraid the old man might—do something drastic. Might go a little too far. We better not tell him, Billy.”
“Okay, Lee, if you think that’s best.”
“I think it’s best. We better not tell him.” The horses, tied to the nearest pine, stamped their hooves as we prepared to eat. Lee looked at them. “You two be quiet. Don’t you know there’s a lion up here?”
The horses stared at Lee.
“That’s right,” he said. “A lion.”
The horses stood perfectly quiet. Lee grinned at me. “Now we can eat.”
We rested for an hour or so during the noon heat, then remounted and continued the climb up the mountainside. All afternoon we searched for the buckskin pony, following out the side trails, exploring the scrub oak thickets and the juniper jungles. When we reached the place where the old mine road joined our wagon road we checked that too, backtracking the jeep for several miles to the north, clear to the boundary of the White Sands Missile Range, a padlocked steel gate and a steel picket fence that stretched eastward, as far as the eye could follow, down through the hills and across the desert plain, and westward up the mountainside toward the pass between Thieves’ Peak and the beginning of the San Andres chain
The driver scowled at him. “You shut up. I’ll manage this thing without any help from you.” He released the brake and the jeep started to roll forward, passing us.
“Goodbye,” Lee shouted after them. “Drive carefully.”
“Drive carefully,” I echoed.
They rolled down the road without replying, without looking back, while the motor gasped and coughed, choking on gasoline. In a minute they were out of sight and gone. I rode after Lee’s horse, caught it and brought it back to him. Lee sat on a rock, wiping the sweat from his face with a handkerchief and airing out his hat. “Thanks, Billy. My God it’s hot.”
My body was trembling. I felt too weak to get down off my horse.
“What a day,” Lee said. He grinned up at me. “What happened, anyway?”
“I thought—I thought he was going to shoot you.”
“And you threw that spear at him?” We looked at the yucca stalk, lying on the road near the body of thecoyote. We looked at the coyote. “Now why did I do that?” Lee asked. He got up slowly, replacing his hat on his head, took the coyote by the scruff of the neck, hauled him to the edge of the road and let him roll down into the woods. After a moment he came back to his rock in the shade and sat down again.
“What about the guns?”
“Yeah, the guns.” He looked at the guns. “We’ll stash them here in the rocks and pick them up on the way home tomorrow.” He sighed, a little wearily, then smiled at me. “Billy, would you mind getting that canteen out of the saddlebags? And I think you’ll find something to eat in there too.”
“You bet, Lee.” Shakily, I got off my horse.
“Billy?”
“Yes?”
“You know, Billy, that was a foolish thing I did. I could’ve got both of us killed. But those—those men made me so goddamned angry. They had no manners at all.”
“That’s right,” I said, unbuckling Lee’s saddlebag. “No manners at all.”
He sat musing, hat pushed back. “I wonder if they were officers or enlisted men?”
“They sure weren’t gentlemen.”
“I was an officer myself. That’s why I find it hard to tell.” He glanced at the tough sun blazing over us. “Well, anyway, I hope they make it down the mountain all right.”
“I hope they dont.”
“It’s a good thing your grandfather wasn’t here. He’d have killed those fellows. Strangled them with his bare hands.” I handed Lee the canteen and a sandwich wrapped in waxed paper. “One other thing, Billy …”
“What?” I unwrapped a sandwich.
“Better not tell him about this.”
“About the canteen?”
“About this incident here. The men in the jeep.”
“Why not, Lee?”
“I’m afraid the old man might—do something drastic. Might go a little too far. We better not tell him, Billy.”
“Okay, Lee, if you think that’s best.”
“I think it’s best. We better not tell him.” The horses, tied to the nearest pine, stamped their hooves as we prepared to eat. Lee looked at them. “You two be quiet. Don’t you know there’s a lion up here?”
The horses stared at Lee.
“That’s right,” he said. “A lion.”
The horses stood perfectly quiet. Lee grinned at me. “Now we can eat.”
We rested for an hour or so during the noon heat, then remounted and continued the climb up the mountainside. All afternoon we searched for the buckskin pony, following out the side trails, exploring the scrub oak thickets and the juniper jungles. When we reached the place where the old mine road joined our wagon road we checked that too, backtracking the jeep for several miles to the north, clear to the boundary of the White Sands Missile Range, a padlocked steel gate and a steel picket fence that stretched eastward, as far as the eye could follow, down through the hills and across the desert plain, and westward up the mountainside toward the pass between Thieves’ Peak and the beginning of the San Andres chain
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