Escape from Five Shadows (1956) Read Online Free Page B
Author: Elmore Leonard
wasn't any copy of the transaction in his books.
Karla said, Didn't you have a lawyer?
The court appointed one. We didn't have any money for our own.
Karla frowned. But the man who sold you the stock
Sold Earl the stock Earl already had the bill of sale when I met him. The man's name was McLaughlin. He took an oath that he'd never seen the bill of sale Earl had before in his life.
Earl told me he should've known better than to deal with a man he didn't know, and no wonder the stock was offered at such a good price. He said McLaughlin took advantage of him got his money for the stock, then didn't register it in his books, called out the law, then even got his stock back. We were arrested one day, tried the next, and there wasn't anything we could do about it. The fastest trial I ever heard of.
And, Karla said, you were sentenced to Yuma.
Seven years each.
You needed a good lawyer, Karla said thoughtfully.
We needed more than that.
You needed a lawyer like Mr. Martz, the Hatch & Hodges attorney. He's in Prescott. He's She stopped abruptly, looking up at Bowen.
Bowen shook his head. The trial's over.
But if he could prove you didn't know anything about it
He'd be awful good. Bowen reined the mare around. I hope I can pay you back for this.
Don't worry about that now.
He looked down at her and seemed reluctant to leave, then said, Goodbye, Karla. That was all.
She watched him circle the corral and disappear into the pines and only then did it occur to her that he knew her name. He could have heard Renda say it that was it. But he remembered it that was the important thing.
Chapter 4
Salvaje, sergeant of Apache police, waited. His eyes, beneath the broad hatbrim, were fixed on the dark rise of pines miles to the east the hillcrest that overlooked the Pinale n o station. He had sent one of his Mimbres there within minutes of being told of the escape. It was something he always did; for invariably the sign led to Pinale n o. With the rest of his trackers he had followed the escaped man's trail to this point. If the signal did not come from the pines, they would continue. Sometimes it took a complete day to bring back an escaped man, but seldom longer than that.
And sometimes it was almost too easy. At least this one had not tried to cover his trail. Some of them used devices that only wasted their time: back-tracking and stream-wading tricks that even a reservation child could understand. Doing this even when their objective was almost always Pinale n o and a horse.
But one had to admit that this was better than duty at San Carlos: the endless hunting of tulapai stills and carrying back men of your own people who had jumped the reservation. Here, one had the opportunity to track white men. Salvaje's father had been a Mimbre n o war chief; his mother, a Mexican woman taken in a raid on a Chihuahua pueblo. Salvaje had spent the better part of his life making war against his mother's people and against white men the good years of riding with Victorio and Delchay, years that could not be compared with this business of recapturing escaped prisoners.
He waited patiently, one thumb hooked in the cartridge bandoleer that crossed his worn cavalry jacket. He was confident that the signal would come, that it was only a matter of time. What else could an escaped man do but go to Pinale n o? if he had thought about it at all.
And finally the signal did come a white-gleaming dot in the pines, then the pinpoint flashes, sunlight reflected on a metal disk and sent to him here, miles away, and what Salvaje had known all along was now confirmed.
It blinked once; then three times in quick succession. The escaped man had left the adobe and was riding to the west. His man in the pines would follow now and signal again if the escaped one changed direction.
Salvaje looked at his men. There were ten trackers here, and now he watched them remove their army-issue shirts and pants, stripping to breech-clouts, then slipping on their
Karla said, Didn't you have a lawyer?
The court appointed one. We didn't have any money for our own.
Karla frowned. But the man who sold you the stock
Sold Earl the stock Earl already had the bill of sale when I met him. The man's name was McLaughlin. He took an oath that he'd never seen the bill of sale Earl had before in his life.
Earl told me he should've known better than to deal with a man he didn't know, and no wonder the stock was offered at such a good price. He said McLaughlin took advantage of him got his money for the stock, then didn't register it in his books, called out the law, then even got his stock back. We were arrested one day, tried the next, and there wasn't anything we could do about it. The fastest trial I ever heard of.
And, Karla said, you were sentenced to Yuma.
Seven years each.
You needed a good lawyer, Karla said thoughtfully.
We needed more than that.
You needed a lawyer like Mr. Martz, the Hatch & Hodges attorney. He's in Prescott. He's She stopped abruptly, looking up at Bowen.
Bowen shook his head. The trial's over.
But if he could prove you didn't know anything about it
He'd be awful good. Bowen reined the mare around. I hope I can pay you back for this.
Don't worry about that now.
He looked down at her and seemed reluctant to leave, then said, Goodbye, Karla. That was all.
She watched him circle the corral and disappear into the pines and only then did it occur to her that he knew her name. He could have heard Renda say it that was it. But he remembered it that was the important thing.
Chapter 4
Salvaje, sergeant of Apache police, waited. His eyes, beneath the broad hatbrim, were fixed on the dark rise of pines miles to the east the hillcrest that overlooked the Pinale n o station. He had sent one of his Mimbres there within minutes of being told of the escape. It was something he always did; for invariably the sign led to Pinale n o. With the rest of his trackers he had followed the escaped man's trail to this point. If the signal did not come from the pines, they would continue. Sometimes it took a complete day to bring back an escaped man, but seldom longer than that.
And sometimes it was almost too easy. At least this one had not tried to cover his trail. Some of them used devices that only wasted their time: back-tracking and stream-wading tricks that even a reservation child could understand. Doing this even when their objective was almost always Pinale n o and a horse.
But one had to admit that this was better than duty at San Carlos: the endless hunting of tulapai stills and carrying back men of your own people who had jumped the reservation. Here, one had the opportunity to track white men. Salvaje's father had been a Mimbre n o war chief; his mother, a Mexican woman taken in a raid on a Chihuahua pueblo. Salvaje had spent the better part of his life making war against his mother's people and against white men the good years of riding with Victorio and Delchay, years that could not be compared with this business of recapturing escaped prisoners.
He waited patiently, one thumb hooked in the cartridge bandoleer that crossed his worn cavalry jacket. He was confident that the signal would come, that it was only a matter of time. What else could an escaped man do but go to Pinale n o? if he had thought about it at all.
And finally the signal did come a white-gleaming dot in the pines, then the pinpoint flashes, sunlight reflected on a metal disk and sent to him here, miles away, and what Salvaje had known all along was now confirmed.
It blinked once; then three times in quick succession. The escaped man had left the adobe and was riding to the west. His man in the pines would follow now and signal again if the escaped one changed direction.
Salvaje looked at his men. There were ten trackers here, and now he watched them remove their army-issue shirts and pants, stripping to breech-clouts, then slipping on their
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