Hombre by Elmore Leonard Page B

it,” Lamarr said, “but don’t give me no advice please.”
    “I would bet you’re dead or arrested in two weeks,” Mendez said.
    Lamarr glanced at him now. “You won’t have nothing to bet with.”
    “All right, then remember it,” Mendez said. “You already have witnesses.”
    “I don’t see any,” Lamarr Dean said. Braden came from behind the coach with a leather satchel. “Frank, you see any witnesses?”
    “Not here,” Braden said. He knelt down to open the satchel.
    Lamarr Dean moved on to Russell. “This onedoesn’t look like any witness to me. Mister,” Lamarr said, “are you a witness?” He pulled Russell’s Colt as he said it and flung it backhanded, high up so that it glinted with the sun catching it, and down the road, bouncing and skidding way down it.
    But Lamarr Dean wasn’t watching the gun. He was staring at Russell, up close to him and squinting, looking right in his face.
    “I’ve seen you somewhere,” Lamarr said. The way he said it you knew it bothered him. He waited for Russell to help him, but Russell didn’t say a word. They stared at each other and every second you expected Lamarr to remember that day at Delgado’s, and you could just imagine him suddenly swinging that Henry rifle up and giving Russell the same thing Russell gave him, or worse.
    Or Braden might say something about “the Indian” and then Lamarr Dean would remember. You waited for that to happen too. But, when Braden looked up, the bag open on the ground in front of him, he said, “I’d say it was a good day’s pay.”
    Lamarr Dean looked from Braden over to Dr. Favor. “How much you steal so we won’t have to count it?”
    Dr. Favor didn’t say anything. He was a man in a dark suit and hat standing there watching, with one thumb hooked in a vest pocket and the otherhand at his side. The McLaren girl, Mrs. Favor, Mendez, John Russell—all of them in fact just stood there patiently, as if they had stopped by to watch but didn’t have anything to do with what was going on.
    “He figures he’s helped out enough without giving us a tally,” Braden said. He rose, handing the satchel to Dean who took it and transferred the currency to his saddlebags.
    “About twelve thousand I figured,” Lamarr Dean said.
    “Somewhere around it,” Braden said.
    “He did all right,” Lamarr Dean said. “But I guess we did better.” He saw Braden looking at the two horses that still trailed the coach on a line. “What do you think?” he said then.
    “I guess they’ll do.” Braden looked up at the coach. “And the two saddles.”
    Lamarr Dean looked at him. “What do you need two for?”
    “You’ll see,” Braden said. He motioned to me. “You get them down.”
    That’s how I came to be up on the coach when they rode out. I threw down Braden’s saddle, then Russell’s, looking at him as I did.
    Russell watched, not saying a word as Braden freed the line and pulled in the horses and slipped the hackamores off them. He put his own saddleon one horse and told Russell to put his on the other.
    Right then I thought, they’re taking Russell along as a hostage. It made sense; they hadn’t bothered us up to now, but they certainly weren’t going to be so kind as to just ride off. Which turned out to be right. Only it wasn’t Russell they took.
    It was Mrs. Favor. Braden brought the horse over to her and said, “I thought you’d come along with us a ways,” sounding nice about it.
    And just as nice she said, “I’d better not,” as if they were discussing it and she had a choice.
    Braden held out his hand. “You’ll be all right.”
    “I’ll be all right here,” Mrs. Favor said.
    Braden stared at her. “You’re coming, one way or the other.” And that was the end of the discussion.
    He helped her up, Mrs. Favor holding the skirt to cover her legs as she sat the saddle, and they moved off down the road. Braden stayed close to her and neither of them looked back. We all kept watching, nobody