“No,” he said.
I nodded. Les is a man that, once he gets his mind made up, is hard to change. What I was telling him was true. Texas rangers and other lawmen didn’t think no more of violating the border than they did of skinning a cat. If they heard about a wanted man in one of the border towns they’d come on across, singly or in pairs, and bring him back one way or another, either dead or alive. There were a lot of ways to get a man across without taking the bridge.
“Les,” I said, “you better listen to me.”
“I’m not as well-known as you are, Will. Nobody will be looking for me.”
There wasn’t anything else to say. I shrugged.
Les turned to the little peon. “Tiene agua?”
“Si,” the peon said. He was ready to do some more business.
Late in the afternoon we got the horses in and saddled up. We didn’t say anything through the chore, but, when we were finished, we stood looking at each other.
“Oh!” Les said. He went into his pockets and came out with the wad of money he’d taken off Howland. “We’ve got to divvy this.”
“Aw hell!” I said.
“No, half of it’s yours.” He counted it and then handed me my half, near a hundred and ten dollars. I still had some of the money left I’d taken off the ranch foreman and the two lots together gave me about a hundred and fifty dollars.
I held up my mare’s reins and looked at Les. “I’m heading up for Villa Union,” I said.
“I thought you were going south for Monterey.”
“I am, pretty soon,” I said. “Got a little business first. You?”
“Nuevo Laredo,” he said. It was in the opposite direction.
“Why don’t you come on up with me, Les, and then we’ll ride back down together?”
“I reckon not,” he said. He looked at me, a little smile on his face like he knew what I was up to. “I reckon not,” he said. He lifted himself into the saddle. I did likewise.
“Well . . .” He held out his hand and I took it. “Will, when you get located, get a telegram to me at the Del Prado Hotel in Nuevo Laredo. I’ll probably be around there for some time.”
“All right,” I said. We finished shaking hands. He give me a little grin and then reined around and headed south. I watched him for a minute and then turned my own pony and rode off. The peon was still sitting in the dirt watching us. I guess he’d never seen anything like us before.
I spent the rest of the evening getting into Villa Union, arriving there a little after dark. It wasn’t much different from a hundred other little towns and I hunted up a dray station that did double duty as a livery barn and left my filly. I gave instructions to see she was rubbed down and given a double bait of corn. After that I shouldered my saddle and walked up the street to the cantina. They had a room or two to let and I took one for three pesos and settled in. It was Sunday, but there was still a good little bit of traffic in the bar. I could hear them warming up, but I never paid no mind. I was feeling a little low in spirit and the main thing I wanted was a bath and a little supper. The supper was easy to arrange, but the bath took some doing. Finally they rigged me a tub out in the back and I paid a kid a little coin to fetch me in water from the well. I took it cold, not caring whether it was hot or not. The lye soap I was using would have worked just as well in a frozen pond.
My clothes were tolerably clean from the rain, but I made a deal with a woman that worked in the cantina to take them and give ‘em a good scrubbing. While she was at it I stayed in my room eating some cabaritto and beans and tortillas and drinking rum. When I’d taken off the pants to give ’em to the woman I’d remembered they were Les’s. We’d forgotten to swap back, or rather I’d forgotten and he hadn’t said a word about it. After I finished eating I took a survey of my wounds. My neck wasn’t nothing and I didn’t pay it no mind. The hole in my thigh seemed to be coming along all right. It had been a clean wound and didn’t seem to be going bad at all. It was still a little sore, but I pulled it open and poured a little rum in it just to be on the safe side. It burned like hell, which I’ve heard is a good sign. There was a little angry flesh around where the bullet had gone in and I scuffed that up pretty good and made it bleed and gave it another drink of rum. All in all I figured I’d gotten out mighty light.
It was getting on pretty late when I finally got my clothes back, but I went ahead and dressed and wandered into the bar. I wanted to get a good line on where Villa Guerro was before I went to sleep. I planned to make an early start and might not be anybody much around to ask. I’d figured Fernando Rancho was right on a line between the two towns and I’d just make for Guerro and ask as I went along.
The bar was near empty and the bartender was putting up his stock and getting ready to close. I stepped up and ordered rum and asked about the direction to Guerro. He didn’t speak any English and my Spanish is not of the best, but, after about three drinks, I was able to understand that the town was about forty miles away in a straight northwesterly direction. That’d been about what I’d figured and it’d put the ranch at about thirty miles distance. I should be able to make it with an early start by about midafternoon. I paid for my drinks and went back to the little room I’d rented and went to sleep.
It was a long, lonesome ride. I guess I’d been riding with partners so long I’d forgotten what it is to make a long trail by yourself. Les was always good to ride with. He never said too much, but what he did say was generally worth listening to. Tod was either one of two ways—not saying a word because he was sulled up about something, or talking a blue streak and not saying anything. Of the two I always preferred the sull.
About early afternoon I figured I was getting close and I began looking for a little piece of water. After a little riding I found what I was looking for and pulled up and dismounted. It was a little limestone crick, not much wider than a horse’s back, but the water was clean and cool. Lot of artesian springs in the area and they’re some of the best water in the world. I had a clean shirt in my saddlebags I’d been saving and I got that out and then stripped off my old one and stuck it in its place. First I washed as much of the trail dust off myself as I could and then I got my razor out and made a job of shaving. My beard was tough and, not having any lather soap, I had to make do with a bar of the lye variety I’d brought along from Villa Union. Getting rid of the three-day growth hurt worse than my thigh ever did, but I kept after it until my face felt clean and smooth. Next I done what I could about combing my hair, having just my fingers to work with, and then I put on my clean shirt. It was near new. I’d bought it a number of weeks back but had only worn it several times. Still I didn’t feel as well dressed as I wanted and it made me kind of low in mind again. It got me thinking about the kind of gall I had to be riding up to that rancho with any idea of getting to see that girl.
And of course that wasn’t just any rancho I was going to be riding up to, but one which I’d left under some disgrace. There was a hell of a good chance the old don wouldn’t even receive me and, if he did, he might be downright unfriendly. I could feel my nerve slipping and I began to curse myself, calling myself every kind of fool for coming on such a hare-brained errand. A man seems many things to other men, but down inside him he knows what he is. I was known far and wide as a man you didn’t fool with, as a man you didn’t give no trouble, but here I was acting as something less than a man—acting more like a damn fool kid.
Finally I made myself mad. I was still Wilson Young and that was goddam good enough for me whether it was for anyone else or not. I determined I would ride onto that ranch like I owned the place and anybody that didn’t like it could go to hell.
My outfit wanted one last touch and I got my silver spurs out of my saddlebags and put them on. They felt strange, heavier and more awkward than my regular pair. I looked down at them, admiring the way they shone and glistened and dressed up my old, scuffed boots. Then I sat down and took them off. If I wasn’t good enough to see that girl without silver spurs,
then I wasn’t good enough with them. I don’t like to make a show and that was what I was setting out to do. I put my spurs back in my saddlebags, caught up the reins and mounted and rode out. I didn’t have an exact idea of where the ranch headquarters were, but I knew they lay somewhere due north of a line of little mountains I’d noted on my first visit. I could see the mountains far off in the background and I quartered in toward them expecting to strike some kind of sign before long. Home-range cattle were beginning to show up and I knew I couldn’t be far.
After about an hour’s ride the tops of the house and outbuildings of the ranch suddenly rose up out of the prairie. The sun was in the lower quarter of the sky and I figured it to be around four o’clock. It was just about the time I’d been aiming at. I’d figured if I could arrive early, but not too early, I might get invited to dinner and that would give me a chance to see the girl.
A little further on and the ranch came into plain view. I put my mare into a smart gallop and swept in under the main gate and made for the front of the house. A peon run out as I pulled up and took my reins. I got down, not quite knowing what to do, and stood a minute knocking the dust off my breeches. The peon that was holding my horse looked at me, awaiting instructions as to whether to take my mare to the barn or not. I ignored him and went up on the veranda steps. A house servant came out. He inquired politely what my business was and who I desired to see.
“Tell Senor Fernando that Wilson Young is back in the neighborhood and would like to visit with him a minute.”
He turned and went into the house and beckoned me into the hall. It was cool and quiet and just a little dark. The peon asked me to wait and said he’d tell the señor I was come. The hall I was standing in was the main breezeway between the two parts of the house. A water stand was against the wall and I poured out a little water in the bowl and had another go at my face. As I finished up putting a little more water on my hair the servant came back and said the patron would see me. “Pray walk this way, Señor,” he said, motioning me toward the big sitting room off to the right.
CHAPTER 14
Mexico
The old patron received me very stiffly. He was sitting in a big, highback leather chair and he made no move to get up as I entered. A cutglass decanter of cognac was sitting on a table by his chair and he had a glass in his hand.
“Well, Senor Young,” he said, “what is your business here today?”
I stood in the center of the room, my hat in my hand. I tapped it idly against my leg. I wondered if he was going to ask me to sit down or offer me a drink. “I have no business, Señor,” I said in Spanish. “I’m only traveling and chanced to pass your rancho.”
“That is our good fortune,” he said formally. He didn’t mean it, it’s just something the Spanish say.
“I hope I don’t come at an inopportune time,” I said. I was still standing.
“Not at all,” he said. He fell silent, waiting for me to say something.
I was feeling uncomfortable. “Señor,” I said, “I would apologize for my behavior on my last visit. We had just had some very bad luck and I’m afraid I allowed it to affect my manners. We repaid your hospitality very poorly. That is the purpose of my visit today, to apologize for my bad manners. I have ridden many miles to deliver this apology and I hope you will accept it.” I figured if I was going to have to eat crow I might as well make a good job of it.
It softened the old don. He looked at me a minute then nodded. “No apology is necessary,” he said. “I was not aware of any bad manners on your part.” He motioned toward a chair just to his left. “Will you take a seat and I’ll send for another glass. I’m sure a little liquor would be welcome after such a long ride.”
“With many thanks,” I said. I sat down in the chair and crossed my legs and put my hat on my knee. I’d made a little progress, but I still had to make the don believe I was a good, upright citizen. While the servant was fetching the glass I told him I’d decided to leave the cattle-buying business. “We were only small operators,” I said. “And fortune didn’t smile on us. We were traveling with cash—gold—and we lost it all along with a good horse in the river. Over four thousand dollars, Señor.”
“Mala suerte!” he said. “Yes, the river was at flood stage at that time. Upcountry rains, I believe.”
“So there we were, all our funds gone and a horse short. Being such small buyers, we had no letter of credit from a bank, only the gold. It ruined us in the cattle business.”
“I can see how it would cloud your mind.” He’d got out a cigar and lit it and was nodding and agreeing with my story. “I believe you smoke cigars, do you not?”
I nodded.
“There are some excellent ones in the drawer of the desk. Please help yourself. I have a bad hip that has been bothering me of late.”
I got up and got a cigar and lit it. I almost struck the match on my boot heel, but I caught myself in time and flicked it with my thumbnail. All the stiff talking we were making was bothering me. It made my mouth uncomfortable.
“Where is your friend?” the patron asked me. “The quiet one.”
“Oh, him,” I said. “He’s gone back to Texas. He has decided to continue in the cattle-buying business. He’s gone back for some more money.”
“What will you do then?”
“Señor, I plan to become a resident of Mexico. I’ve always liked the country and I believe I’ll just settle down here.”
“Indeed,” he said. It pleased him. I expect he’d been sitting in that chair with a bad leg just wishing somebody would come along he could visit with.
The servant came with my glass and the old patron poured me a generous drink and we made a toast to our mutual luck and health. I kept looking around waiting for the girl to show up. I just about had the patron won over and I was starting to get a little impatient to see the girl. We talked on, discussing this and that, and I told the old man that I intended to settle around Monterey and raise horses. “I’ve had experience with good horse flesh,” I said. “I think they could be raised cheaply here and sold for a good profit in the United States.”
“Ahh,” he said. It was a subject he liked and we discussed the horse market to some extent. Fortunately I knew a pretty good bit about it and I continued to make a good impression on my host.
Finally he invited me to stay for dinner. I told him I really should be getting on, but he urged me to stay and I finally accepted. After a little more talk I asked after his niece.
“Ah, Linda! She is well.”
“I’m glad to hear that,” I said. I stopped, waiting for him to tell me more about her, but he didn’t, just sat there puffing on his cigar and looking at me. Finally I cleared my throat. “Uh, does she enjoy it here?”
“Ah, yes!” he said. “It seemed very agreeable to her.”
Well, damn him! Why didn’t he tell me something. I got bold. “She’ll be dining with us?”
“Oh no,” he said. “Unfortunately not.”
I looked at him. “Why not?” I asked.
“Why, she is not here, Senor. She has gone back to her home. The bandit trouble ended at her father’s place and she left yesterday to return.”
I sat there, not knowing what to say. It was the worst kind of luck. “Well,” I said, “that is a surprise.”
“What?” he asked. “A surprise?”
“Well,” I said, “a surprise in that the bandit trouble was overcome so easily. Usually it takes longer.”
“Ah . . .” he said again.
I never felt such a letdown in my whole life. Until the moment he told me she was gone I hadn’t really realized how anxious I was to see the girl, how much I’d been pining for her. I asked, as casually as I could, if she’d gone by rail.
“Partly,” the patron said. “I’ve sent her in my coach to Rodriguez and from there she will take the railroad to Sabinas Hidalgo.”
“Rodriguez?”
“Si,” he said. “It’s a matter of a little more than a day. Th
ey stayed last night at a rancho near Progresso. A kinsman of mine.”
“Yeah,” I said. I knew where Rodriguez was. It was a railhead town about sixty miles south of where we were. I might could make it in a day, but the girl would surely be gone by then. I became impatient to go. I tried to think of some way to get out of the supper.
“Don Fernando,” I said, “I really believe it won’t be possible for me to eat with you. I’m anxious to get to Monterey. I have business there.”
But he wouldn’t hear of it. He insisted that my horse was tired and that I’d feel much better after a good dinner and a night’s rest. “It’s late now. It’s no time to be traveling.”
I tried to tell him I couldn’t possibly stay overnight, but he argued me down. He said he’d already sent a servant to prepare a room for me. I gave in. There wasn’t much else I could do. I’d never catch up with the girl and my horse was tired. I’d ridden her forty miles already and she wasn’t in shape to go another sixty. I slumped back in the chair. What a hell of a piece of luck. I was aching inside to see Linda and being in the place where she’d been just made it worse.
We went in to supper after a little and it was good, but I wasn’t in a mood to enjoy it. Now that I was in pretty good with the old patron he near talked my ear off. After supper nothing would do but that we sit up and talk for a while. I was plumb out of things to talk about and only wanted to go to bed and make an early start the next morning. I didn’t know what I was going to do, but I knew which direction I was going. Finally, I got away and went to bed. I set my mind to wake up before good light. I’d thanked the don for his hospitality and told him I’d be riding out early. He said he’d see that my horse was ready and something was made up for me in the kitchen to take along. He was a polite old man, but I was certainly glad to get away from him and get to bed.
I was on the road before daylight. My little mare had been well cared for, grained and rubbed down, and I had a sack of food in my saddlebags. If the girl had been there I believe I would have stayed on until I was run off. And I’m not too sure the old don would have ever done that. He’d taken a big liking to me and several times had hinted he’d considered hiring an American foreman who knew the horse and cattle business. By then, though, I wasn’t looking for a job in that part of the country, so I never gave him any encouragement to come out with a firm offer.
The Bank Robber Page 17