hr.thecarpetbaggers-第24部分

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　Reeves　rode　along　the　road　to　his　ranch；　half　humming　to　himself。　He　was　feeling　good。　For　the　first　time；　he　was　secure。　Max　wouldn't　dare　talk；　it　would　only　make　it　worse　for　him。　And　the　nigger　was　gone。　Leave　it　to　a　nigger　to　run　when　things　got　rough。　He　was　so　wrapped　up　in　his　thoughts　that　he　never　heard　the　crack　of　the　snake　as　it　whipped　out　from　behind　the　trees　and　dragged　him　down　off　his　horse。
　He　scrambled　to　his　feet　and　reached　for　his　gun　but　the　next　crack　of　the　snake　tore　it　from　his　fingers。　Mike　walked　slowly　toward　him；　the　big　whip　coiling　slowly　back　up　his　arm。
　Reeves　screamed　in　terror。
　The　big　snake　cracked　again　and　Reeves　spun　around　and　tumbled　over　backward　into　the　dust。　He　got　to　his　hands　and　knees　and　began　to　crawl；　then　scrambled　to　his　feet　and　tried　to　run。　The　snake　ran　down　the　road　after　him　and　crept　between　his　legs；　throwing　him　to　the　ground。　He　turned　his　head　and　saw　Mike's　arm　go　up　into　the　air；　the　long　black　whip　rising　with　it。
　He　screamed　as　the　snake　tore　into　him　again。
　
　Sometime　early　the　next　morning；　the　sheriff　and　his　deputies　came　across　a　body　lying　at　the　side　of　the　road。　During　the　night；　someone　had　torn　the　bars　from　the　window　of　the　jail's　only　cell　and　Max　had　escaped。
　One　of　the　deputies　saw　the　body　first。　He　wheeled　his　horse　over　beside　it　and　looked　down。
　The　sheriff　and　the　other　deputy　wheeled　their　horses。　For　a　long　while；　they　stared　down　at　the　mutilated　body。　Then　one　of　them　took　off　his　hat　and　wiped　the　cold；　beaded　sweat　from　his　forehead。　〃That　looks　like　Banker　Reeves。〃
　The　sheriff　turned　and　looked　at　him。　〃That　was　Banker　Reeves；〃　he　said。　He；　too；　took　off　his　hat　and　wiped　his　face。　〃Funny；〃　he　added。　〃The　only　thing　I　know　of　that　can　do　that　to　a　man　is　a　Louisiana　prison　snake。〃
　
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　THE　NAME　OF　THE　VILLAGE　IN　SPANISH　WAS　VERY　long　and　difficult　for　Americans　to　pronounce；　so　after　a　while　they　gave　it　their　own　name。　Hideout。　It　was　a　place　to　go　when　there　was　nowhere　else　to　turn；　when　the　law　was　hot　on　your　neck　and　you　were　tired　of　sleeping　nights　on　the　cold　prairie　and　eating　dry　beef　and　cold　beans　from　a　can。　It　was　expensive　but　it　was　worth　it。　Four　miles　over　the　border　and　the　law　could　not　reach　you。
　And　it　was　the　only　place　in　Mexico　where　you　could　always　get　American　whisky。　Even　if　you　had　to　pay　four　times　the　price　for　it。
　The　alcalde　sat　at　his　table　in　the　rear　of　the　cantina　and　watched　the　two　americanos　e　in。　They　sat　down　at　the　table　near　the　door。　The　smaller　one　ordered　tequila。
　The　alcalde　watched　the　two　with　interest。　Soon　they　would　be　going　away。　It　was　always　like　that。　When　first　they　came；　they'd　have　nothing　but　the　best。　The　finest　whisky；　the　best　rooms；　the　most　expensive　girls。　Then　their　money　would　run　short　and　they'd　begin　to　reduce　their　expenses。　First；　the　room　would　be　changed　for　a　cheaper　one；　next；　the　girls　would　go。　Last；　the　whisky。　When　they　got　down　to　drinking　tequila；　it　meant　that　before　long；　they'd　be　moving　on。
　He　lifted　his　glass　and　drank　his　tequila　quickly。　That　was　the　way　of　the　world。　He　looked　at　the　smaller　man　again。　There　was　something　about　him　that　had　caught　his　eye。　He　sighed；　thinking　of　his　youth。　Juárez　would　have　liked　this　one：　the　Indian　blood　in　the　Jefe　told　him　instinctively　which　ones　were　the　warriors。　He　sighed　again。　Poor　Juárez；　he　wanted　so　much　for　the　people　and　got　so　little。　He　wondered　if　before　the　Jefe　died；　he　had　realized　that　the　only　reason　for　his　failure　was　that　the　people　didn't　want　as　much　for　themselves　as　he　had　wanted　for　them。　He　stared　at　the　americanos；　remembering　the　first　time　he　had　seen　them。　It　was　almost　three　years　ago。
　They　had　e　into　the　cantina　quietly；　weary　and　covered　with　the　dust　of　their　travels。　Then；　as　now；　they　had　sat　at　the　table　near　the　door。
　The　bottle　and　glasses　were　on　the　table　when　the　big　man　at　the　bar　had　e　over　to　them。　He　spoke　to　the　smaller　man；　ignoring　the　other。　〃We　don't　allow　niggers　in　this　here　saloon。〃
　The　smaller　man　didn't　even　look　up。　He　filled　his　friend's　glass　first；　then　his　own。　He　lifted　it　to　his　lips。
　The　glass　shattered　against　the　floor　and　silence　abruptly　fell　across　the　cantina。　〃Get　your　nigger　outa　here；〃　the　big　man　said。　He　stared　at　them　for　a　moment；　then　turned　and　strode　back　to　the　bar。
　The　Negro　started　to　rise　but　the　smaller　man　stopped　him　with　a　gesture　from　his　eyes。　Slowly　the　Negro　sank　back　into　his　chair。
　It　was　only　when　the　smaller　man　left　the　table　to　go　to　the　bar　that　the　alcalde　realized　that　he　wasn't　as　small　as　he　had　first　thought。　It　was　only　by　parison　to　the　Negro　that　he　seemed　small。
　〃Who　makes　the　rules　here？〃　he　asked　the　bartender。　
　The　bartender　gestured　toward　the　rear。　〃The　alcalde；　se？or。〃
　The　americano　turned　and　came　toward　the　table。　His　eyes　surprised　the　alcalde；　they　were　a　hard；　dark　blue。　He　spoke　in　Spanish；　with　a　trace　of　Cuban　accent。　〃Does　the　swine　speak　the　truth；　se？or？〃
　〃No；　se？or；〃　the　alcalde　replied。　〃All　are　wele　here　who　have　the　money　to　pay　their　way。〃
　The　man　nodded　and　returned　to　the　bar。　He　stopped　in　front　of　the　man　who　had　e　over　to　his　table。　〃The　alcalde　tells　me　my　friend　can　stay；〃　he　said。
　The　man　turned　to　him　angrily。　〃Who　the　hell　cares　what　that　greaser　thinks？　Just　because　we're　across　the　border；　doesn't　mean　I　have　to　drink　with　niggers！〃
　The　smaller　man's　voice　was　cold。　〃My　friend　eats　with　me；　drinks　with　me；　sleeps　with　me；　and　he's　not　goin'。〃　He　turned　his　back　calmly　and　went　back　to　his　table。
　He　was　just　seating　himself　again　when　the　angry　americano　started　for　him。　〃If　you　like　niggers　so　much；　nigger…lover；　see　how　you　like　sleepin'　with　a　dead　one！〃　he　shouted；　pulling　his　gun。
　The　smaller　americano　seemed　scarcely　to　move　but　the　gun　was　in　his　hand；　smoke　rising　from　its　barrel；　the　echo　of　a　shot　fading　away　in　the　rafters　of　the　cantina。　And　the　loud…mouthed　one　lay　dead　on　the　floor　in　front　of　the　bar。
　〃I　apologize　for　the　disturbance　we　have　made　against　the　hospitality　of　your　village；〃　he　said　in　his　strange　Spanish。
　The　alcalde　looked　down　at　the　man　on　the　floor；　and　shrugged。　〃De　nada；〃　he　said。　〃It　is　nothing。　You　were　right。　The　swine　had　no　grace。〃
　Now；　almost　three　years　later；　the　alcalde　sighed；　remembering。　The　little　one　had　grace；　much　grace　…　natural　like　a　panther。　And　the　gun。　Caramba！　There　had　never　been　anything　so　fast。　It　seemed　almost　to　have　a　life　of　its　own。　What　a　pistolera　this　one　would　have　made。　Juárez　would　have　been　proud　of　him。
　Several　times　each　year；　the　two　friends　would　quietly　disappear　from　the　village　and　as　quietly　reappear　…　several　weeks；　sometimes　several　months　later。　And　each　time　they　came　back；　they　had　money　to　pay　for　their　rooms；　their　women；　their　whisky。
　But　each　time；　the　alcalde　could　sense　a　deeper　solitude　in　them；　a　greater　aloneness。　There　were　times　he　felt　a　strange　kind　of　pity　for　them。　They　were　not　like　the　others　that　came　to　the　village。　This　way　of　life　held　no　pleasure　for　them。
　And　now　they　were　drinking　tequila　again。　How　many　times　before　they　would　go　out　like　this　and　never　return？　Not　only　to　this　village　but　to　nowhere　on　this　earth。
　
　Max　swallowed　the　tequila　and　bit　into　the　lime。　The　tart　juice　burst　into　his　throat；　giving　his　mouth　a　clean；　fresh　feeling。　He　looked　at　Mike。　〃How　much　we　got　left？〃　
　Mike　thought　for　a　moment。　〃Maybe　three　more　weeks。〃　
　Max　rolled　a　cigarette　and　lit　it。　〃What　we　gotta　do　is　make　a　big　hit。　Then　maybe　we　could　go　up　into　California　or　Nevada　or　someplace　where　they　don'　know　us　an'　git　ourselves　straightened　out。　Money　shore　don'　last　long　around　this　place。〃
　The　Negro　nodded。　〃It　sho'　don'；〃　he　agreed。　〃But　that　ain'　the　answer。　We　gotta　split　up。　They　lookin'　for　us　together。　When　they　see　me；　it's　like　you　carryin'　a　big　ol'　sign　with　you'　name　on　it。〃
　Max　filled　his　glass　again。　〃Tryin'　to　get　rid　of　me？〃　He　smiled；　throwing　the　liquor　down　his　throat　and　reaching　for　the　lime。
　Mike　said　seriously；　〃Maybe　'thout　me；　you　could　settle　down　someplace　an'　make　a　life　fo'　yourself。　You　won'　have　to　run　no　mor'。〃
　Max　spit　out　a　lime　seed。　〃We　made　us　a　deal　to　stick　together。　We　get　enough　money　this　time；　we'll　head　for　California。〃
　The　door　opened　and　a　tall；　redheaded　cowboy　came　in。　He　walked　over　to　their　table　and　dropped　into　an　empty　chair。　〃Ol'　Charlie　Dobbs　got　here　in　the　nick　o'　time；　I　reckon。〃　He　laughed。　〃That　there　tequila'll　eat　the　linin'　off　your　stomach　sure　as　hell。　Bartender；　bring　us　a　bottle　of　whisky。〃
　The　bartender　put　whisky　and　glasses　on　the　table　and　walked　away。　Charlie　filled　the　glasses　and　they　drank。
　〃What　brings　you　back；　Charlie？〃　Max　asked。　〃I　thought　you　were　headin'　up　Reno　way。〃
　〃I　was。　But　I　run　into　the　biggest　thing　ever　I　saw。　It　was　too　good　to　pass　up。〃
　〃What　kinda　job？〃　Max　asked；　leaning　across　the　table。
　Charlie　lowered　his　voice。　〃A　new　bank。　You　remember　I　tol'　you　I　heard　las'　year　they　were　minin'　for　oil　up　in　Texas？　I　decided　to　pay　them　diggin's　a　visit　on　my　way　north。〃　He　poured　another　drink　and　swallowed　it　quickly。　〃Well；　they　found　it　all　right。　It's　the　craziest　thing　you　ever　saw。　They　sink　a　well　down　in　the　groun'　an'　instead　of　water；　up　es　oil。　Then　they　pipe　it　off；　barrel　it　an'　ship　it　east。　There's　oil　all　over　the　place　an'　that　bank's　just　bustin'　with　money。〃
　〃Sounds　good　to　me；〃　Max　said。　〃What's　the　deal？〃　
　〃A　local　man　set　up　the　job　but　he　needs　help。　He　wants　two　shares；　we　get　one　share　each。〃　
　〃Fair　enough；〃　Max　said。　He　turned　to　Mike。　〃What　do　you　think？〃
　Mike　nodded。　〃When　we　pull　the　job？〃　he　asked。　
　Charlie　looked　at　him。　〃Right　after　the　new　year。　The　bank　is　gettin'　in　a　lot　of　money　then　for　new　diggin'。〃　He　refilled　all　the　glasses。　〃We'll　have　to　start　tomorrow。　It　took　me　three　weeks　to　ride　down　here。〃
　
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　MAX　PUSHED　HIS　WAY　INTO　THE　SALOON　BEHIND　Charlie　Dobbs。　It　was　crowded　with　oil…miners　and　cowboys　and　the　dice　table　and　faro　layouts　were　working　full　blast。　Men　were　standing　three　deep　around　them　waiting　for　a　chance　at　the　games。
　〃What'd　I　tell　you？〃　Charl