"Well, not if you don't." At this point Tyler was not getting into any kind of argument with this girl.

She said, "I know he'll keep it for himself. I've known it since Victor told us about him. It's his way, the man was a bandit. The war ends, you think the Black Plague is gonna settle down and farm? What I have to do now, when the money's delivered, get hold of it before Islero hides it away." "Then what?"

"I don't know. Run, I guess. What would you do?"

It reminded Tyler of Charlie Burke saying why he wanted him along: a partner who knew what it was like to ride the high country, have a price on his head. As Charlie Burke put it, "Somebody that's et the cake." Tyler kissed this sweet girl again, thoughts in his head, ones he'd had since the other night but wasn't sure how to word them. He had to try, though, and said, "The ransom being your idea… You did worry about Victor taking it, now you're sure Islero wants it. Did you ever have the idea, knowing all that, you ought to keep it for yourself?"

Amelia smiled at him in the dark. He saw her eyes shine before taking on a serious look.

She said, "Ben, I have to tell you the truth; I knew I would sooner or later, so I may as well tell you now. The whole idea of my being a hostage? The reason I thought of it was so I could get my hands on the money. Keep it for myself."

It stopped him cold.

She said, "You're ashamed of me."

He wasn't thinking that, not at all; he wanted to ask if she was serious.

But now Amelia was saying, "Ben, I came here seeking my fortune, the same as you, to be able to leave here with something worth the trip. I thought of the idea and I said, Oh my God, it's possible, it can happen. And the more I thought about it the more certain I was it could be done. That is," she said, and hesitated, "if I can get this bank robber I know to help me."

She looked up at him with that gleam in her eyes and Tyler couldn't help but smile. She meant it. Wanted him to help her steal forty thousand dollars. That's what she was saying. But if it was stealing, who were they stealing it from? Boudreaux? No, he was giving it away. Islero? He didn't have a claim to the money; giving it to him would be an act of charity. Forty thousand dollars, Jesus, if there was a way to do it… Why not? Take it off the train, from Novis? The idea, she said, get hold of it before Islero hid it away. But how? He said, "I have to ask you something."

"How we're gonna do it?"

"Well, that, yeah. No, I wondered what I'm suppose to get out of it, as your little helper." "Half, tenty thousand." "You're serious, aren't you?"

"You bet I am. It's gonna happen, too."

"You have it worked out?"

"So far so good," Amelia said. "The only thing I didn't plan on was falling in love with the bank robber."

Fuentes and Islero were still at the table, a kerosene lamp between them. Fuentes motioned to Tyler, coming from the tent where they kept their stores, Tyler with a rolled-up hammock and blanket under each arm. "You keeping house with her now?" Tyler didn't answer and Fuentes said, "Never mind, it's your business. But listen, we want to know, you going to see Boudreaux, uh?" "First thing tomorrow." "He won't pay you." "Maybe."

"I tell you, he won't."

"All right, what do you advise?"

"Don't go. But you will, uh? So Islero wants me to tell you something. You have trouble with him and somehow you escape, his guerrillas chasing you, don't come back here. You understand? Don't come near this place."

Tyler left them. He came to Virgil's hootch, Virgil in a hammock beneath a shelter of palm fronds. Tyler stopped as Virgil said, "Hey, partner? You gonna see that man owes you money, I'm going with you." "You want to?" "I need to."

Tyler reached the shelter where Amelia stood waiting. He dropped the hammocks and she said, "We have to sleep in those?"

"Or on the ground."

She said, "What's wrong with that?"

SEVENTEEN

Six A.M. Virgil followed Tyler down the narrow switchbacks, their horses brushing vegetation still wet with dew. They were up with the bugle call, had coffee and checked their weapons; then Virgil had to wait as Tyler and Amelia stood talking before kissing goodbye. Virgil asked Tyler since he'd been with her all night what could they have left to talk about. He could kid Tyler, but knew better than to make a crude remark. Tyler said he would tell him on the way. Not kidding, making it sound mysterious.

Virgil had traded a Mauser carbine for a KragJorgensen five-shot magazine rifle, the one the U.S. Army was now using. He carried it straight up, the stock resting on his thigh, and a bandoleer holding sixty cartridges. Islero told him a Remington did more damage, accounting for more kills and requiring more amputations; but Virgil liked the Krag on account of it firing a smokeless round. Tyler was armed with the matched pair of Smith amp; Wesson. 44 Russians, one in a holster butt forward beneath his black suit coat and the other in his saddlebag He had taken good care of that coat, not wearing it much while they were locked up. Virgil was still wearing the blue uniform pants Molina had given him at the Morro, now raggedy and filthy, and a Spanish military straw with the insignia torn off. He needed some flesh duds, but there weren't any clothes among the camp stores. Islero's crew looked mostly like beggars, some even without shoes or sandals, though every single one of them carried a machete, you could bet on that, and were armed to the teeth.

Once down that high slope they struck out east, the sun showing now in a dip between the range of hills. They kept single file along a row of palm trees Virgil recognized as date palms, a kind he had seen before in his travels with the fleet. The trees divided burned-out cane fields on both sides, brittle stalks creaking as the wind stirred. They climbed a defile, the dip between the hills, and found the railroad tracks down the other side, the tracks and a telephone line showing the way. Riding south now, side by side, Tyler looked over. "Amelia says Boudreaux has a horse saddled every morning by seven and goes for a ride."

"By himself?"

"With some of his army along."

"They the enemy?"

"They ar if they shoot at us."

Fuentes had told them it was about-four kilometers from here to the estate. They rode along in silence until Tyler looked over again.

"Amelia doesn't trust Islero. She says he's gonna keep the forty thousand dollars."

"I thought that was the idea." "For himself, not give it up." "Yeah?"

"She wants me to help her grab it and make a run."

"Yeah?"

"The war's almost over"

"You mean steal it?"

"Amelia says it'll have her name on it, so it must be hers. Or you can look at it as not belonging to anyone, there for the taking."

"That the way you see it?"

"Like the spoils of war. Why not?"

"You want me along? Is that what we're talking about here?"

"You and I'd draw ten thousand apiece. Amelia gets the whole other half account of she's the reason Boudreaux's paying and it's her idea. What do you say?"

"Well, I'd sure never pass up a chance to get rich. It's lucky me and you are the only white boys around, huh?"

Tyler jumped on that. "She's got other friends."

"Like who, that squirt Neely? Listen, I ain't arguing with you. Whatever her reason she wants us, it's fine with me."

Last night Tyler and Amelia brought their hammocks and blankets to the trees along the edge of the slope to make a bed on the pine needles, Tyler putting off what he wanted to tell her until, finally, he couldn't keep it to himself.

"You didn't have to say you love me."

The words came out of a silence and he was sorry as he heard them, sounding so serious. Amelia, on her knees spreading a blanket, looked up at him.