El Paso Way by Steven Law Page A

earlier. You don’t need to bring ’im nothin’ else.”
    Then Pang recognized the voice of Vin. “But he needs this special tea to help him heal.”
    â€œWhat’s special about it?” the deputy asked.
    â€œIt is filled with herbs, and a bit of opium to help ease his pain.”
    Opium?
Pang thought.
What has gotten into the old man?
    â€œLet me see,” the deputy said.
    Pang walked over to the jail door and watched the deputy lift the porcelain lid off the teapot and sniff. He made a sour face.
    â€œThat smells like hot horse piss! You gonna make ’im drink it?”
    â€œYes, he will drink it.”
    â€œWell—hell now, this I gotta see.”
    The deputy grabbed the keys off the hook on the wall, then walked over to the jail door and unlocked it. He stepped away and waved a hand for Vin to enter.
    Vin stepped in front of him and winked at Pang, then turned back around and looked at the deputy.
    â€œWell?” the deputy said. “Get on with it.”
    â€œVin took the lid off the teapot, grabbed the handle, then swiftly emptied the contents into the deputy’s face.
    The deputy staggered away and dropped the keys, his eyes closed, mouth open, coughing, gagging.
    Before the deputy could open his eyes, Vin stood on one leg and like a perfectly balanced bird kicked him in the ribs. The young lawman gasped and fell backward, then lay on his side and wheezed. Vin squatted beside him and with an extended hand jabbed the back of his head.
    The deputy went out cold.
    Vin turned around to an astounded Pang.
    â€œWhat are you doing, old man?”
    â€œSaving your life. It’s hard to say if or when the sheriff will be back, and word has gotten to us that a plan is in the works to kill you. Make it look like you were trying to escape, and then they would shoot you.”
    Pang looked down at the unconscious deputy, still in awe. “So what do I do now?”
    â€œYou have to go away, Pang. Do what you will with your life, but there is no more life for you here.”
    It was freedom he wanted, but now that he stood with it in his hands, he didn’t know what to do with it. He knew he needed to go after Valdar, but he wasn’t sure how, and this time he needed a plan. “I suppose you are right. I must go.”
    â€œI’ve been wrong many times, but I have been right more. So you go now; there is no more time for talk.”
    Pang bowed to his elder, then proceeded to walk away, but he stopped and looked again at the deputy. “Was that really opium?”
    â€œNo, no. You know I would never succumb to such treatments.”
    â€œThen what was it?”
    Vin smirked. “Just like the deputy said. It was horse piss.”
    Pang spared a grin, appreciating Vin’s cleaver wit, but he worried about what the old man might face for helping him. He was quite certain, however, that Vin wouldn’t have done it without a plan to get out of it. So he decided not to worry, that he had enough of his own trouble to worry about.
    To show his respect, he offered Vin a bow. The old man returned the gesture, and then, like a prowling lion, Pang went quietly out the door and slipped into the darkness.
    * * *
    Pang calculated that for breaking jail, and all the other things that the sheriff and his deputy would try to pin on him, he was already a dead man, so stealing a horse would make him no worse off. The problem at hand, however, was that he had never learned to ride a horse. When he jumped up on the horse in the alley, he realized that it was not as easy as he had thought it would be. He was sure that the horse wondered who this young man was who looked, smelled, and dressed much different than the horse’s owner, and who hopped up on his back and did nothing but slap him on the withers. At least Pang knew enough to use the stirrups; that much he’d learned from watching riders on the streets of Tucson, but when it came to making