4

Bren sat at a corner table in the Oriental. He let Sundeen take his time and look around. When Sundeen finally came over he pulled out the chair across from Bren and sat down.

“Now then,” Sundeen said, “where were we?”

“They're trying to call the game.” Bren sat with his hands flat on the table. “Vandozen says he's had enough of your monkeyshines. He's gonna fire you tomorrow, and all those hoboes you got riding for you.”

Sundeen nodded, not surprised. “You would think he had something personal to do with this.” He sat back in his Douglas chair saying, “Shit.”

“There's hope,” Bren said, “if you can get your misfits out of town before morning. He can't find you, he can't fire you, can he?”

“I don't know-don't many of 'em snap to as they should,” Sundeen said. “There's some mean Turks, but most of 'em ain't worth cow shit.”

“How many you need?…How many does Moon have?”

“Who in the hell knows? All I seen was women and little kids.”

“Some Mexicans with their hands tied, I understand.”

“And their eyes open. They knew what they were doing. I cut the ropes, let 'em hold their old cap-n-balls, they'd still be dead, wouldn't they? I lost men blown to hell from a distance. Are we talking about rules of some kind or what?”

“We're getting off track,” Bren said.

“You're the one called this,” Sundeen said, his snarly, ugly nature peeking through. “We can settle up right now, you want, and quit talking about it.”

“You got spirit,” Bren said, “but save it and let's do this show with a little style. You don't want to meet in some back alley; you got a reputation to think of-as poor as it is.”

“Jesus,” Sundeen said, on the edge now, hands gripping the arms of his chair.

Like working a wild stallion, hold him on the line, but don't let him break his neck. Bren said, “If you're big enough to handle your men, gather 'em and head up to White Tanks. I'll get Moon, whatever people he's got…You come up the draw and we'll meet at his place.”

Sundeen said, “Through that steep-sided chute? You must believe I'm dumb.”

“Scout it. Turn all the rocks over, you want. I'm talking about we meet at the top, have a stand-up battle like we had in Sonora. Quit this tracking around and do the thing right.” Bren paused. Sundeen remained silent. “Unless you lack the gristle.”

Sundeen said, “You don't need to prod, if that's what you're doing. I'm thinking.” And said then, “Why don't we meet at White Tanks?”

“Moon won't do it, I'll tell you that right now. He'll fight for his home, but not for any government layout. He doesn't look at this the way you and I do.”

Sundeen was thoughtful again. “It would make some noise, wouldn't it?”

“Hear it clear across the country,” Bren said. “Get your name in the history book.”

Sundeen grinned then, tickled. “Jesus Christ, is this the way it's done?”

“Why not? Better than maybe we meet sometime maybe we don't.”

“Well…Moon's place then. I guess it's as good as another.”

As Sundeen got up, Bren said, “Whatever happened to that old segundo of yours?”

“Ruben Vega,” Sundeen said. “He tried to change sides and didn't make it.”

“That's too bad. He seemed a good one for his age.”

“Yeah, he was quicker than most,” Sundeen said, “but in this game there ain't any second prize, is there?”