The Complete Western Stories of Elmore Leonard (2004) by Elmore Leonard

Author:Elmore Leonard [Leonard, Elmore]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Western stories, Westerns, Short Stories (single author), General, Romance, Short stories; American, Fiction
ISBN: 9780061242922
Publisher: Harper
Published: 2007-01-15T00:00:00+00:00

AT YELLOW TAVERN he had killed a Union soldier. Perhaps he had killed others, but the one at Yellow Tavern was the only one he was sure of. It had been at close range, firing down into the soldier’s face as the Yankee’s bayonet thrust caught in his horse’s mane. He fired and the blue uniform disappeared. That simple. What he was about to do no longer seemed a part of war, because the man had a name and was not just a blue uniform.

He rode out from Valverde to the cavalry station at a walk, moving the borrowed mount unhurriedly, his right leg hanging out of the stirrup. Nearing the adobes a trooper rode by and shouted, but the sound of his running mount covered the words.

The sunlight on the gray adobe was cold, because there was no one about and there were no sounds. Over the row of bare houses, far to the north, reaching into the clouds, was the whiteness of Sangre de Cristo. This, too, caused the cavalry station to seem drab. Walker knew a patrol was out. Perhaps McGrail had taken it. For a moment he felt relief, but knew that would solve nothing.

He went through a doorway above which a wooden shingle read: HEADQUARTERS—VALVERDE STATION—COS, D & E—9TH US CAVALRY.

At the desk a sergeant looked up and momentarily there was recognition on his face. But he said nothing, he only listened to the name that was given him, then stepped into the next room and closed the door behind him.

He reappeared almost immediately. “The major will see you,” and stepped aside to let Walker pass.

McGrail’s back was turned. He stood at the window behind his desk, looking out at the sand and glare.

He did not turn, but when the door closed, he said, “I’ve been expecting you.”

Walker hesitated. “Why?”

McGrail turned then. He was holding a revolving pistol in his right hand, and with the other he was wiping a cloth along the barrel.

“To return the horse you borrowed,” he said. “Why else?”

Walker was silent. The surprise was on his face for a brief moment. It passed, and still he did not say anything.

“How’s the leg?”

“Stiff.”

“I suppose it would be.”

McGrail moved the cloth slowly, steadily along the pistol barrel. Abruptly he said, “You wouldn’t know the whereabouts of a man named Beckwith, would you?”

Walker was startled. “Should I?”

“You’re not one for answering questions, are you?”

Walker unbuttoned his coat and drew tobacco from his shirt. He made a cigarette and replaced the tobacco, leaving his coat open.

“I could never wear a shoulder holster,” McGrail said. “Would always feel bound.”

Walker exhaled cigarette smoke. “You get used to anything.”

“I thought you might have heard of this Beckwith,” McGrail said. “I’m rather anxious to meet him, myself—you see, he’s a Confederate agent.”

“Why are you telling me that?”

McGrail shrugged. “Just conversation. Thought you might be interested. You see, this Beckwith thinks he’s been putting something over on us, but there are as many people in Valverde giving information to me as there are to him.

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