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Updated: June 21, 2025
The Spider's proffer of work was accepted, but Pete asserted that he would not leave Showdown until he had got his horse. "I'll see that you get him," said The Spider. "Thanks. But I aim to git him myself." And it was shortly after this understanding that Pete sat in the patio back of the saloon waiting impatiently for Malvey to show up, and half-inclined to go out and look for him.
Pete dimly remembered Boca's white face and the room went black. Malvey strode forward. Old Flores dropped the neck of the shattered bottle and stood gazing down at Pete. "The good wine is gone. I break the bottle," said Flores, grinning. "To hell with the wine! Let's pack this young tin-horn out where he won't be in the way." But as Malvey stooped, Boca flung herself in front of him.
"Why, the horse. Blake'll give you a hundred for that cayuse, if I am any judge of a good animal." "He'll give me fifty, mebby. Blake ain't payin' too much for any hosses that I fetch in." "Then I'll give you the other fifty and settle with Blake later." "That goes, Spider." The Spider and Malvey stepped out as Pete had it out with Blue Smoke in front of the saloon.
And you have been ill." She pressed close to him and touched his arm. "Have I not been your friend?" "You sure have! But honest, Boca, I got a hunch that it's time to fan it. 'T ain't that I'm sore at your old man now or want to leave you but I got a hunch somethin' is goin' to happen." "You think only of that Malvey. You do not think of me," complained Boca.
A quick and significant glance shot from Boca's eyes to her mother's. Old Flores ate stolidly. If he had heard he showed no evidence of it. "'Bull' Malvey! A darn good name for him," thought Pete. And he felt a strange sense of shame at being in his company. He wondered if Flores were afraid of Malvey or simply indifferent to his raw talk.
"I'm sure thinkin' of you every minute. It ain't Malvey that's botherin' me now." "Then why do you not rest and wait?" "Because restin' and waitin' is worse than takin" a chanct. I got to go." "You must go?" Pete nodded. "But what if I will not find a horse for you?" "Then I reckon you been foolin' me right along." "That is not so!" Boca's hand dropped to her side and she turned from him.
The room was dark he could not see but he knew that Boca was there and he felt uncomfortable. He was not accustomed to being waited upon, especially by a woman. "Where's Malvey?" he asked. "I do not know. He is gone." Again Pete tried to sit up, but sank back as a shower of fiery dots whirled before his eyes.
"We're ridin'," said Malvey, as Pete spurred his pony to the rail. Pete leaned forward and offered his hand to The Spider. "I'll make this right with you," said Pete. "Forget it," said The Spider. Showdown dozed in the desert heat. The street was deserted. The Mexican who helped about the saloon was asleep in the patio.
And Pete knew that the speech was intended for his ear. "Nope. Four!" said Malvey positively. Pete leaned his elbow on the bar and watched them. Malvey was obviously acting his part, but The Spider's attitude seemed sincere. "Pete," he called, "Malvey says there are four riders drifting in from the north. I make it three."
We can drag a blanket over this and leave the rest to the coyotes." They scraped a long, shallow hole in the arroyo-bed and buried Malvey along with his saddle and bridle. The Spider smiled as he saw them coming. He was still smiling as he watched them ride up the street and tie their tired ponies to the hitching-rail. He identified the led horse as the one Malvey had stolen from Pete.
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