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Forrester's face flushed。 〃Yes； sir。〃
I glanced at him； wondering why he stood there and took it。 It didn't make sense。 Not with the reputation he had。 He could step out of the Army and knock down twenty times what he was making with any airline in the country。 He had a name as good as Rickenbacker's any day。
The General turned to Morrissey。 〃Now； Mr。 Morrissey；〃 he said in an almost jovial voice。 〃Whom do we talk to about getting a few facts and figures on the cost of this airplane？〃
〃You can talk with Mr。 Cord； sir。〃
〃Fine！〃 boomed the General。 〃Let's go into the office and call him。〃
〃You don't have to do that； General；〃 I said quickly。 〃We can talk right here。〃
The General stared at me； then his lips broke into what he thought was an expansive smile。 〃No offense intended； son。 I didn't connect the names。〃
〃That's all right； General。〃
〃Your father and I are old friends；〃 he said。 〃Back during the last war； I bought a lot of the hard stuff from him and if it's all right with you； I'd like to talk this over with him。 Purely for old times' sake； you understand。 Besides； this can turn out to be a mighty big deal and I'm sure your daddy would like to get in on it himself。〃
I felt my face go white。 I had all I could do to control myself。 How long did you have to live in a man's shadow？ My voice sounded flat and strained even to my own ears。 〃I'm sure he would； General。 But I'm afraid you'll have to talk to me； you can't talk to him。〃
〃Why not？〃 The voice was suddenly cold。
〃My father's been dead for ten years；〃 I said； turning my back on him and walking toward the hangar。
2
I WALKED THROUGH TO THE SMALL ROOM IN THE BACK THAT MORRISSEY USED AS AN OFFICE。 I shut the door behind me and crossing to his desk； took out the bottle of bourbon that was always there for me。 Pouring a shot into a paper cup； I tossed the whisky down my throat。 It burned like hell。 I looked down at my hands。 They were trembling。
There are some people who won't stay dead。 It doesn't make any difference what you do to them。 You can bury them in the ground； dump them into the ocean or cremate them。 But the memory of them will still turn your guts into mush just as if they were still alive。
I remembered what my father said to me one morning down at the corral in back of the house。 It was a little while after his marriage to Rina and I'd e down one morning to watch Nevada break a new bronc。 It was along about five o'clock and the fast morning sun was just raising its head over the desert。
The bronc was a mean one； a wiry； nasty little black bastard that； every time it threw Nevada； went after him with slashing hoofs and teeth。 The last time it threw him； it even tried to roll on him。 Nevada scrambled out of the way and just did make it over the fence。
He stood there leaning against the fence and breathing heavily while the Mex boys chased the bronc。 Their shrill whoops and yells split the morning air。 〃He's a crazy one；〃 Nevada said。
〃What're you going to do with him？〃 I asked curiously。 It wasn't often I saw Nevada take three falls in a row。
The Mexicans had the horse now and Nevada watched them lead it back。 〃Try him once more；〃 he answered thoughtfully。 〃An' if that doesn't work； turn him loose。〃
My father's voice came from behind us。 〃That's just what he wants you to do。〃
Nevada and I turned。 My father was already dressed as if he was going straight to the plant。 He was wearing his black suit and the tie was neatly centered in the thickly starched white collar of his shirt。 〃Why don't you put a clamp on his muzzle so he can't snap at you？〃
Nevada looked at him。 〃Ain't nobody can git near enough to that hoss without losin' an arm。〃
〃Nonsense！〃 my father said tersely。 He took a short lariat from the pegs on the fence and ducking between the bars； stepped out into the corral。 I could see his hands working the rope into a small halter as he walked toward the horse。
The bronc stood there pawing the ground； its eyes watching my father balefully。 The Mexicans tightened their grip on the lariats around the horse's neck。 The bronc reared back as my father brought the loop up to catch it around the muzzle。 At the same time； it lashed out with its forefeet。 Father just got out of the way in time。
He stood there for a moment； staring into the horse's eyes； then reached up again。 The bronc shook its head wildly and slashed savagely at my father's arm。 Again the hoofs lashed out； just missing Father。
The bronc was really wild now； twisting and turning as if there were a rider on it。 The Mexicans leaned on their lariats to hold it still。 After a moment； it was quiet and Father walked back to it。
〃You ornery son of a bitch；〃 my father said quietly。 The bronc bared its teeth and snapped at him。 Father seemed to move his arm just a fraction of an inch and the bronc's head flashed by his arm。 〃Let him go；〃 my father yelled to the Mexicans。
The two boys looked at each other for a moment； then shrugging in that almost imperceptible manner they had to absolve themselves of responsibility； let up on their lariats。
Free of restraint； the bronc was motionless for a fraction of a second； bewildered。 My father stood there in front of him； tall and broad in his black suit。 Their eyes were about on a level。 Then slowly my father started to bring his hand up again and the bronc exploded； its eyes flashing； its teeth bared； as it reared back and struck out with its hoofs。 This time； my father stepped back and then darted as the bronc came down。
I saw my father's clenched fist hanging high in the air over his head for a flashing second。 The bronc's four hoofs struck the ground and Father's fist came down like a hammer； just over the bronc's eyes。 The thud of the blow echoed back against the side of the house like a small explosion。 The bronc stood there for a moment； then sagged slowly to its knees； its front legs crumpling as if they had suddenly turned to rubber。
Quickly my father walked around to the side and slapped his open palm against the bronc's neck。 The horse toppled over on its side。 For a moment； it lay there； its sides heaving； then it raised its head and looked up at my father。 The four of us … the Mexicans； Nevada and I … were silent as we stood there watching them。
The bronc's raised head threw a long morning shadow in the corral dirt that was dwarfed only by the shadow of my father as they stared into each other's eyes。 Then the bronc seemed to heave a giant sigh and dropped its head back on the ground。
My father looked down at the bronc for a moment； then bent over and taking the reins near the bronc's mouth； pulled the horse to its feet。 The bronc stood there； its legs trembling； its head hanging dejectedly。 It didn't even raise its head as my father crossed in front of it and came back through the fence to us。
〃You won't have any trouble with him now。〃 My father hung the lariat back on the peg and started for the house。 〃ing in for breakfast； Jonas？〃 he called without turning his head or breaking his stride。
Nevada was already back in the corral； walking toward the bronc。 〃Yes； sir；〃 I said； starting after my father。 I caught up to him on the back porch。 We turne