“So when you came here you bought that forty-four because everybody out here has a pistol and you were going to learn how to use it.”
“Well, I thought it might be a good thing to learn.”
Julius Euskadi stood tensely, his face and body receptive, listening but uncommunicative.
Horace sighed and looked away from Adam. His eyes brushed over and past Julius and came back to his hands. He laid the gun on the bureau and carefully lined the brass and lead cartridges beside it. “You know,” he said, “I’ve only been a deputy a little while. I thought I was going to have some fun with it and maybe in a few years run for sheriff. I haven’t got the guts for it. It isn’t any fun to me.”
Adam watched him nervously.
“I don’t think anybody’s ever been afraid of me before—mad at me, yes—but not afraid. It’s a mean thing, makes me feel mean.”
Julius said irritably, “Get to it. You can’t resign right this minute.”
“The hell I can’t—if I want to. All right! Mr. Trask, you served in the United States Cavalry. The weapons of the cavalry are carbines and pistols. You—” He stopped and swallowed. “What happened, Mr. Trask?”
Adam’s eyes seemed to grow larger, and they were moist and edged with red. “It was an accident,” he whispered.
“Anybody see it? Was your wife with you when it happened?”
Adam did not reply, and Horace saw that his eyes were closed. “Mr. Trask,” he said, “I know you’re a sick man. I’m trying to make it as easy on you as I can. Why don’t you rest now while I have a talk with your wife?” He waited a moment and then turned to the doorway, where Lee still stood. “Ching Chong, tell Missy I would admire to talk to her for a few minutes.”
Lee did not reply.
Adam spoke without opening his eyes. “My wife is away on a visit.”
“She wasn’t here when it happened?” Horace glanced at Julius and saw a curious expression on Julius’s lips. The corners of his mouth were turned slightly up in a sardonic smile. Horace thought quickly, He’s ahead of me. He’d make a good sheriff. “Say,” he said, “that’s kind of interesting. Your wife had a baby—two babies—two weeks ago, and now she’s gone on a visit. Did she take the babies with her? I thought I heard them a little while ago.” Horace leaned over the bed and touched the back of Adam’s clenched right hand. “I hate this, but I can’t stop now. Trask!” he said loudly, “I want you to tell me what happened. This isn’t nosiness. This is the law. Now, damn it, you open your eyes and tell me or, by Christ, I’ll take you in to the sheriff even if you are hurt.”
Adam opened his eyes, and they were blank like a sleepwalker’s eyes. And his voice came out without rise or fall, without emphasis, and without any emotion. It was as though he pronounced perfectly words in a language he did not understand.
“My wife went away,” he said.
“Where did she go?”
“I don’t know.”
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t know where she went.”
Julius broke in, speaking for the first time. “Why did she go?”
“I don’t know.”
Horace said angrily, “You watch it, Trask. You’re playing pretty close to the edge and I don’t like what I’m thinking. You must know why she went away.”
“I don’t know why she went.”
“Was she sick? Did she act strange?”
“No.”
Horace turned. “Ching Chong, do you know anything about this?”
“I go King City Satdy. Come back mebbe twelve night. Find Missy Tlask on floor.”
“So you weren’t here when it happened?”
“No, ma’am.”
“All right, Trask, I’ll have to get back to you. Open up that shade a little, Ching Chong, so I can see. There, that’s better. Now I’m going to do it your way first until I can’t any more. Your wife went away. Did she shoot you?”
“It was an accident.”
“All right, an accident, but was the gun in her hand?”
“It was an accident.”
“You don’t make it very easy. But let’s say she went away and we have to find her—see?—like a kid’s game. You’re making it that way. How long have you been married?”
“Nearly a year.”
“What was her name before you married her?”
There was a long pause, and then Adam said softly, “I won’t tell. I promised.”
“Now you watch it. Where did she come from?”
“I don’t know.”
“Mr. Trask, you’re talking yourself right into the county jail. Let’s have a description. How tall was she?”
Adam’s eyes gleamed. “Not tall—little and delicate.”
“That’s just fine. What color hair? Eyes?”
“She was beautiful.”
“Was?”
“Is.”
“Any scars?”
“Oh, God, no. Yes—a scar on her forehead.”
“You don’t know her name, where she came from, where she went, and you can’t describe her. And you think I’m a fool.”
Adam said, “She had a secret. I promised I wouldn’t ask her. She was afraid for someone.” And without warning Adam began to cry. His whole body shook, and his breath made little high sounds. It was hopeless crying.
Horace felt misery rising in him. “Come on in the other room, Julius,” he said and led the way into the living room. “All right, Julius, tell me what you think. Is he crazy?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did he kill her?”
“That’s what jumped into my mind.”
“Mine too,” said Horace. “My God!” He hurried into the bedroom and came back with the pistol and the shells. “I forgot them,” he apologized. “I won’t last long in this job.”
Julius asked, “What are you going to do?”
“Well, I think it’s beyond me. I told you I wouldn’t put you on the payroll, but hold up your right hand.”
“I don’t want to get sworn in, Horace. I want to go to Salinas.”
“You don’t have any choice, Julius. I’ll have to arrest you if you don’t get your goddam hand up.”
Julius reluctantly put up his hand and disgustedly repeated the oath. “And that’s what I get for keeping you company,” he said. “My father will skin me alive. All right, what do we do now?”