hr.thecarpetbaggers-第26部分

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　Mike　looked　up　at　him。　〃Don'　make　me　feel　like　I　picked　the　wrong　one　back　there　in　that　prison；〃　he　said。　〃Not　now　when　I'm　a　dyin'　man。〃
　Max's　face　broke　into　a　sudden　smile。　〃You're　full　of　shit；　Mike。〃
　Mike　grinned　up　at　him。　〃I　kin　hold　the　posse　off　all　day。　By　then；　you'll　be　so　far　no'th；　they'll　never　catch　up　to　you。〃　He　started　to　laugh　and　suddenly　stopped　as　he　began　to　cough　blood。　He　reached　up　a　hand　to　Max。　〃He'p　me　to　my　feet；　boy。〃
　Max　reached　out　and　pulled　Mike　up。　The　big　man　leaned　against　him　as　they　moved　toward　the　mouth　of　the　cave。　They　came　out　into　the　night　and　there　was　a　small　breeze　just　picking　up　at　the　edge　of　the　cliffs。
　For　a　moment　they　stood　there；　savoring　the　physical　closeness　of　each　other；　the　small　things　of　love　that　men　can　share；　then　slowly　Max　lowered　his　friend　to　the　ground。
　Mike　looked　down　the　ridge。　〃I　can　hol'　them　here　forever；〃　he　said。　〃Now；　'member　what　I　said；　boy。　Go　straight。　No　more　thievin'。　No　more　gun　fightin'。　I　got　you'　word；　boy？〃
　〃You　got　my　word；　Mike。〃
　〃If　you　breaks　it；　I　sure's　hell'll　e　back　an'　haunt　you！〃　the　big　man　said。　He　turned　his　head　away　and　looked　down　the　ridge。　〃Now　git；　boy；〃　he　said　huskily。　〃Dawn　is　breakin'。〃　He　reached　for　the　rifle　at　his　side。
　Max　turned　and　walked　over　to　his　horse。　He　mounted　and　sat　there　for　a　moment；　looking　back　at　Mike。　The　big　colored　man　never　turned　to　look　back。　Max　dug　his　spurs　into　his　horse　and　it　leaped　away。
　It　wasn't　until　an　hour　later；　when　the　sun　was　bright　and　Max　was　on　the　next　ridge；　that　he　began　to　wonder　about　the　quiet。　By　this　time；　there　should　have　been　the　sound　of　gunfire　behind　him。
　He　never　knew　that　Mike　had　died　the　moment　he　was　out　of　sight。
　
　He　felt　naked　at　first　without　his　beard。　Rubbing　his　fingers　over　his　cleanly　shaven　face；　he　walked　into　the　kitchen。
　Charlie　looked　up　from　the　kitchen　table。　〃My　God；〃　he　exclaimed。　〃I　never　would've　known　you！〃
　Martha；　his　wife；　turned　from　the　stove。　She　smiled　suddenly。　〃You're　much　younger　than　I　thought。　And　handsomer；　too。〃
　Max　felt　a　flush　of　color　run　up　into　his　cheeks。　Awkwardly　he　sat　down。　〃I　figgered　it's　time　for　me　to　be　movin'　on。〃
　Charlie　and　his　wife　exchanged　quick　looks。
　〃Why？〃　Charlie　asked。　〃You　own　half　this　spread。　You　just　can't　go　off　an'　leave　it。〃
　Max　studied　him。　He　rolled　a　cigarette　and　lit　it。　〃We　been　here　three　months　now。　Let's　stop　kiddin'　ourselves。　This　place　can't　carry　the　both　of　us。〃
　They　were　silent。　Max　was　right。　Even　though　he　had　advanced　the　money　to　buy　the　ranch；　there　wasn't　enough　in　it　yet　for　all　of　them。
　〃What　if　somebody　recognizes　you？〃　Martha　asked。　〃Your　poster's　in　every　sheriff's　office　in　the　southwest。〃
　Max　smiled　and　rubbed　his　chin　again。　〃They　won't　recognize　me。　Not　without　the　beard。〃
　〃You　better　think　up　a　new　name　for　yourself；〃　Charlie　said。
　Max　blew　out　a　cloud　of　smoke。　〃Yeah。　I　reckon　so。　It's　time。　Everything's　gotta　change。〃
　But　the　name　hadn't　e　to　him　until　the　day　he　stood　in　the　hot　Nevada　sun　looking　up　at　old　man　Cord　and　young　Jonas。　Then　it　came　easy。　As　if　it　had　been　his　own　all　his　life。
　Smith。　Nevada　Smith。
　It　was　a　good　name。　It　told　nothing　about　him。　
　He　looked　down　at　the　little　boy　staring　up　at　him　with　frightened　eyes；　then　at　the　cold　black　gun　in　his　other　hand。　He　saw　the　child　follow　his　eyes。　He　dropped　the　gun　back　into　his　holster。　He　smiled　slowly。　
　〃Well；　Junior；〃　he　said。　〃You　heard　your　pappy。〃　
　He　turned　to　his　horse　and　led　it　around　to　the　bunkhouse；　the　boy　trotting　obediently　behind　him。　The　bunkhouse　was　empty。　The　boy's　voice　piped　up　behind　him。　〃Are　you　going　to　live　here　with　Wong　Toy？〃　
　He　smiled　again。　〃I　reckon　so。〃
　He　picked　out　one　of　the　bunks　and　spread　his　bedroll　on　it。　Quickly　he　put　his　things　away。　When　he　turned　around；　the　boy　was　still　watching　him　with　wide　eyes。　
　〃You're　really　goin'　to　stay？〃　the　child　asked。　
　〃Uh…huh。〃
　〃Really？〃　the　boy　insisted。　〃Forever？〃　His　voice　caught　slightly。　〃You're　not　goin'　to　go　away　like　the　others？　Like　Mommy　did？〃
　Something　in　the　child's　eyes　caught　inside　him。　He　knelt　beside　the　boy。　〃I'll　stay　jest　as　long　as　you　want　me　to。〃
　Suddenly；　the　boy　flung　his　arms　around　Nevada's　neck　and　pressed　his　cheek　close　to　his　face。　His　breath　was　soft　and　warm。　〃I'm　glad；〃　he　said。　〃Now　you　can　learn　me　to　ride。〃
　Nevada　straightened　up；　the　boy　still　clinging　to　his　legs。　He　walked　outside　and　put　the　boy　up　on　the　saddle　of　his　horse。　He　started　to　climb　up　behind　him　when　suddenly　the　gun　was　heavy　against　his　thigh。
　〃I'll　be　back　in　a　minute；〃　he　said；　and　went　back　into　the　bunkhouse。　Quickly　he　pulled　the　tie　strings　and　unbuckled　the　gun　belt。　He　hung　it　on　a　nail　over　his　bunk　and　went　out　again　into　the　white　sunlight。　
　And　he　never　strapped　the　gun　on　again。
　
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　RINA　STEPPED　DOWN　FROM　THE　TRAIN　INTO　the　bright；　flashing　shadows　of　afternoon　sun　lacing　the　platform。　A　tall　uniformed　chauffeur　stepped　forward　and　touched　his　hand　to　his　cap。　〃Miss　Marlowe？〃
　Rina　nodded。
　〃Mr。　Smith　sends　his　apologies　for　not　being　able　to　meet　you；　ma'am。　He's　tied　up　at　meetings　at　the　studio。　He　says　he'll　see　you　for　cocktails。〃
　〃Thank　you；〃　Rina　said。　She　turned　her　face　away　for　a　moment　to　hide　her　disappointment。　Three　years　was　a　long　time。
　The　chauffeur　picked　up　her　valises。　〃If　you'll　follow　me　to　the　car；　ma'am？〃
　Rina　nodded　again。　She　followed　the　tall　uniform　through　the　station　to　a　shining　black　Pierce…Arrow　limousine。　Quickly　the　chauffeur　stowed　the　bags　up　front　and　opened　the　door　for　her。　The　tiny　gold　insignia　emblazoned　over　the　handle　shone　up　at　her。
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　S
　She　settled　back　and　reached　for　a　cigarette。　The　chauffeur's　voice　through　the　speaker　startled　her。　〃You'll　find　them　in　the　container　near　your　right　hand；　ma'am。〃
　She　caught　a　glimpse　of　the　man's　quick　smile　in　the　rear…view　mirror　as　he　started　the　big　motor。　She　lit　a　cigarette　and　studied　the　interior　of　the　car。　The　gold　insignia　was　everywhere；　even　woven　into　the　upholstery。
　She　leaned　her　head　back。　She　didn't　know　why　she　should　be　surprised。　She　had　read　enough　in　the　newspapers　about　him。　The　forty…acre　ranch；　and　the　thirty…room　mansion　he　had　built　right　in　the　middle　of　Beverly　Hills。　But　reading　about　it　never　made　it　seem　real。　She　closed　her　eyes　so　she　could　remember　how　it　had　bee　a　reality　for　her。
　It　had　been　about　five　months　after　she'd　e　back　East。　She'd　gone　down　to　New　York　for　a　week　of　shopping　and　a　banker　friend　of　her　father's　had　asked　her　to　attend　the　premiere　of　a　motion　picture　produced　by　a　pany　in　which　he　had　a　substantial　interest。
　〃What's　it　called？〃　she　had　asked。
　〃The　Sheriff　of　Peaceful　Village；〃　the　banker　had　answered。　〃It's　a　Norman　picture。　Bernie　Norman　says　it's　the　greatest　Western　ever　made。〃
　〃Westerns　bore　me；〃　she'd　answered。　〃I　had　enough　of　that　when　I　was　out　there　myself。〃
　〃Norman　says　he　has　a　new　star　in　the　man　that's　playing　the　lead。　Nevada　Smith。　He　says　he'll　be　the　biggest…　〃
　〃What　was　that　name？〃　she　interrupted。　She　couldn't　have　heard　right。
　〃Nevada　Smith；〃　the　banker　repeated。　〃An　odd　name　but　these　movie　actors　always　have　fancy　names。〃
　〃I'll　go；〃　she　had　said　quickly。
　She　remembered　walking　into　the　theater　…　the　crowds；　the　bright　lights　outside；　the　well…groomed　men　and　bejeweled　women。　And　then　that　world　seemed　to　vanish　with　the　magic　of　the　image　on　the　screen。
　It　was　near　the　end　of　the　picture　now　and　alone　in　a　dreary　room；　the　sheriff　of　Peaceful　Village　was　putting　on　his　gun；　the　gun　he　had　sworn　never　to　touch　again。
　The　camera　moved　in　close　to　his　face；　so　close　that　she　could　almost　see　the　tiny　pores　in　his　skin；　feel　his　warm　breath。　He　raised　the　gun　and　looked　at　it。
　She　could　feel　the　weariness　in　him；　see　the　torture　of　decision　tighten　his　lips；　set　his　square　jaw；　flatten　the　high；　Indian…like　cheekbones　into　the　thin　lines　that　etched　their　way　into　his　cheeks。　But　his　eyes　were　what　held　her。
　They　were　the　eyes　of　a　man　who　had　known　death。　Not　once　but　many　times。　The　eyes　of　a　man　who　understood　its　futility；　who　felt　its　pain　and　sorrow。
　Slowly　the　sheriff　walked　to　the　door　and　stepped　outside。　The　bright　sunlight　came　down　and　hit　his　face。　He　pulled　his　dark　hat　down　over　his　eyes　to　shield　them　from　the　glare　and　began　to　walk　down　the　lonely　street。　Faces　of　the　townspeople　peeked　out　at　him　from　behind　shutters　and　windows　and　curtains。　He　didn't　return　their　glances；　just　walked　forward　stolidly；　his　faded　shirt　beginning　to　show　the　sweat　pouring　from　him　in　the　heat；　his　patched　jeans　looking　threadbare　against　his　lean；　slightly　bowed　legs。　The　bright　metal　of　his　badge　shone　on　his　breast。
　Death　wore　soft；　expensive　clothing。　No　dust　marred　the　shine　of　his　boots；　the　gleaming　ivory　handle　of　his　gun。　There　was　hatred　in　his　face；　the　pleasurable　lust　to　kill　in　his　eyes；　and　his　hand　hovered　like　a　rattlesnake　above　his　holster。
　They　looked　deep　into　each　other's　eyes　for　a　moment。　Death's　eyes　glittered　with　the　joy　of　bat。　The　sheriff's　were　weary　with　sadness。
　Death　moved　first；　his　hand　speeding　to　his　gun；　but　with　a　speed　almost　too　quick　for　the　eye　to　follow；　the　sheriff's　gun　seemed　to　leap　into　his　hand。　Death　was　flung　violently　backward　to　the　ground；　his　gun　falling　from　his　hand；　his　eyes　already　glazing。　His　body　twitched　as　two　more　bullets　tore　in　him；　and　then　he　lay　still。
　The　sheriff　stood　there　for　a　moment；　then　slowly　put　his　gun　back　into　the　holster。　He　turned　his　back　on　the　dead　man　and　began　to　walk　down　the　street。
　People　began　to　flock　out　of　the　buildings。　They　watched　the　sheriff；　their　faces　bright　with　battle　lust。　He　did　not　return　their　glances。
　The　girl　came　out　onto　a　porch。　The　sheriff　stopped　in　front　of　her。
　The　girl's　eyes　were　dim　with　tears。
　The　sheriff's　were　wide　and　unblinking。　An　expression　of　contempt　suddenly　came　into　his　face。　Disgust　with　her　demand　for　blood；　disgust　for　a　town　full　of　people　who　wanted　nothing　but　their　own　form　of　sacrifice。
　His　hand　moved　up　to　his　shirt　and　tore　off　the　badge。　He　flung　it　into　the　dirt　at　he