Sam said, “That last one will help with the pain.” He picked up the needle and thread and went to work, and was quick and neat. When he finished, the front hole was closed and the rear wound was almost closed. A thin, twisted strip of sterile white linen protruded a full inch from the wound. Sam taped a four-by-four sterile pad over it and said, “We’ll change these as often as we need to.” He put two small bottles of pills on the table and pushed them toward Miguel. “Take two of these every six hours. I bought them in Ojinaga a while back. Amoxicillin should help with any infection. The other bottle is for your fever and the pain.”
Miguel pocketed the bottles and said, “I should leave. I heard the men in the helicopter say they would hunt me this morning. And they know of the ranch.”
They both heard Chula bark, and ten seconds later there was the sound of a helicopter landing. Sam said, “You go in my bedroom. Get my pump shotgun out of the closet and wait there.”
Miguel left and Sam knew the helicopter was down because he heard the rotors idling. He rose and took the cocked-and-locked Colt Government Model .45 off the top of the refrigerator, eased the slide back to make sure one was in the chamber, then walked to the front door and opened it with his left hand, keeping the pistol in his right, out of sight behind the door frame.
Two men stood in the front yard. The helicopter was thirty yards further back. The two men wore light hunting jackets and camo clothing. The beardless one wore wraparound sunglasses, and the man with the beard had a thin pale scar beside his right eye.
Sam said, “You boys lost?”
“The one without the beard said, “We are looking for someone.”
“Nobody here but me and the dog.”
The two men looked at each other, then the bearded one said, “This is the only place he could be.”
Sam said, “Is he driving, or walking, or what? Look around you, there’s miles and miles out here where somebody can be. Who is he?”
“We don’t know his name.”
“Then how are you going to know you have the right one?”
“We’ll recognize him.”
“Uh-huh. What did he do that makes you want him so bad? And who are you two, anyway?”
The beardless one ignored Sam’s question and started toward the house, “ Do you mind if we look inside?”
“Yeah, I do.” Their demeanor changed. Sam said, “Chula, adentro.” The dog entered the house and stood behind Sam, watching the men.
The bearded man said, “Sir, we need to see inside.” They started forward. “Step away from the door and there won’t be any trouble.”
Sam let them get to within ten feet of the porch before he pointed the cocked forty-five at them. “It’ll be best if you stop right there.”
The clean-shaven man stopped. His shoulders seemed to tense and his head leaned ever so slightly forward. The little finger on his right hand pushed the edge of his jacket and opened it from his body, revealing a holstered semiautomatic pistol.
Sam saw it, and moved the pistol’s sights from between the two men to the face of the beardless man. Sam felt his heart thudding.
The bearded man said, “Hold on, there. That’s not necessary. Tell you what, we’ll go back and double-check for this fellow, in case we did miss him. How’s that?”
The clean-shaven one glanced at his partner, then back at Sam, but the rancher saw the tension and intent was still clear in the man.
Sam moved the pistol’s sights back to a point between them, but he didn’t lower it. “Good idea.” The men retreated to the copter and flew away.
As the helicopter rose in the air, the clean-shaven man said to his partner, “You continue to do the wrong thing, Riffey.”
Floyd Riffey said, “Wait a minute, Holland. You don’t know how things are out here. That’s one of the reasons you hired me, because I’m familiar with all this.”
Holland said, “Explain what you mean.”
Riffey said, “Out here, if you kill an illegal that nobody knows, well, that’s one thing. People will care, but that kind of thing will fade away. But if you kill a local rancher, someone who everybody in the county knows, you’ll stir up a hornet’s nest that’ll bring in every lawman within a hundred miles. And you said you wanted to keep a low profile until we’re ready.”
“I did. But your decision leaves us with the Mexican still alive and materials missing.”
“You’re a smart man, Holland, a military tactician. You’ll figure out what to do. This is a momentary delay, that’s all.”
Holland studied Riffey for a long moment, then said, “I will decide what to do.” He turned and faced the front, and Riffey relaxed, not totally, but some. The damned guy was so unpredictable it was like being barefoot in a small dark room and rattlesnakes crawling around. You had to be very careful where you stepped.