“How you doing, Bud?” Clay was there.
“I’m making it, boss,” stretching my smushed leg. “Anybody hit?”
“Nope, not a one. We were lucky.” He paused. “Except they know for sure we’re after them now.”
“Rear guard,” said Lew. “Even ifin they didn’t ’spect we was followin’, this was a good choke point to leave a rear guard jus’ to make shore.”
“Maybe they still think we outnumber them.”
“They might try something like this ’gain,” Lew said, as much to himself as us.
“Got one of them,” said Flaco riding up. He held a Spencer .56-50. “The other got away. Gent, be on lookout.”
“Damn. Sooner or later they’re going to figure out we’re only eleven,” said Clay. “Then they’ll bushwhack us, as sure as tonight’s going to be colder than a whore’s heart.”
All whores weren’t cold-hearted, I thought, but there weren’t no point in arguing that right now.
“Unless we made it look like we gone away again,” I said.
Clay looked thoughtful. “I can see that, but we don’t know where they’re going, don’t know the country.”
Lew piped in. “Right, we could go up some canyon or draw, and it ends up leadin’ us off in ’nother direction or into a box canyon. We could lose ’em and not find ’em again.”
Flaco was climbing off his horse. “Anyone want this thing?” he asked.
“That ol’ Spencer’s older than my pappy,” said Jerry.
Flaco wacked it into a rock, breaking the stock, then chucked it into a gully. “I do not know the land here, mal país—bad country, where we are, but I have been to the north of here. It is better land, not so many gullies, ridges, and ravines. I do not think it is too far, but we have to cross rough land to get there.”
“But we’d still havta find ’em, and we don’t know where they’re goin’, don’t know where this Las Norias is,” reasoned Lew.
“Is there a road leading to Las Norias we can find?” asked Clay.
“I do not know of a road. There are mule trails, but they look like the many cow trails here. There is an old volcán up there, north, Cerro el Colorado. Bad ground, but not like here. I do not know how far, but Las Norias is straight west from the Cerro,” Flaco paused. “If we go up there to where we can see the Cerro, then we know…the way to go.”
“Get our bearin’s,” said Lew.
“Sí. Then we can go to cut their trail.”
“Anyone got a better idea?” asked Clay.
He was answered only by shaking heads.
Flaco went on. “Maybe we can get ahead of them. They have more peoples. They travel over bad ground and have to leave men behind to watch for us. We can go faster.”
“They’ll not see us after them and think we’ve left, again, I hope,” said Clay. “If they buy it again.”
“They might,” said Lew. “Even if they don’t, they won’t know where we’re at and can’t ambush us. Just like last time.”
“One thing bothering me,” said Clay with his eyes squinted. “They want to ransom the girls. I don’t know what they’re thinking, running like this. How they going to work the ransom?”
“Maybe they’ll send a man back to deal with us,” said Lew.
“Under a dead white flag,” laughed Dodger.
Clay looked like he was going to say something he didn’t want to talk about. “Boys, I got the ransom money on me. I said I wasn’t going to pay them, but I gotta be real about this. To get the girls back I’ll pay it.” He got all hard-eyed. “Then we’ll kill them.”
That gave me a bad feeling and set me to worrying. It must of shown.
Clay looked me dead in the eye. “You boys leave me with Bud here.”
They went off to check their rigs.
“Bud, I want you to know I got some extra money so we can buy back Marta and Inés…if we can.”
“Boss, I can’t…”
“Let me have my say, Bud,” he said firmly. “I don’t think they mean to ransom those two girls. They only grabbed them because they were there. They take strong young girls for work slaves.” He shook his head. “They do that.”
He didn’t have to say what else they did with them.
“If we get the chance, Bud, I’ll buy them back too, but it may not work. I want you to know that, son.”
I kept trying to look tough, didn’t do too good a job of it.
“Hang in there. I’m relying on you to find them all. We’ll do whatever it takes to get them back.”
I could barely mumble, “Thanks for laying it on me straight, boss. I’ll do my best.”
“I know you will, son.” Louder, he said, “Let’s mount up. Flaco, take us to Cerro el Colorado.”
»»•««
It took us all day, but in the late afternoon we came up out of an arroyo and there, straight to the north through the mist, was Cerro el Colorado. Flaco said that means “colored hill.” The dome-shaped mass of rock came up about six-hundred feet above the surrounding ground. The flatland around it wasn’t near as bad as what we’d come through before.
We turned northwest and found some easy-going ground, for a while. By nightfall, it wasn’t so good. It was all low rolling hills, ridges and knobs, twenty to eighty feet high. It made for slow going, hard on the horses. Least there wasn’t much growing to get in the way.
We found a good place to camp and had a much-needed hot meal. We grained the horses. Fred said we were good on grain for now.
All that time, that night too, I tried not to think about what was happening, had happened, to Marta, to all of them. But I did anyways.
Chapter Forty-Four
We had a pretty good breakfast after a night cold enough to freeze the nuts off a bull. We passed around cans of peaches after beans, bacon, and grits. That was a perk-up. Lots of coffee too and a whisky bottle. We knew this was going to be another hard day, and its end could be about anything you could think of.
The ride that day made my head numb. Just plodding along, up and down, nothing much to see, fighting not to think about what might have been, what could happen. I tried to think of the good things about Marta. It only made me think of what’s been happening to her. I tried to think about other things, anything, about the spreads I’ve worked, men I’ve known, whores I’ve been with, even thought about when I was a kid. That wasn’t no good, better think about something else.
Around noon, Musty said, “By my reckonin’ its New Year’s Day.”
No one made anything of it, except for Jerry. “Hope it’s better an’ the last.”
We rode, we walked, up and down. Flaco and me swapped lead with Dodger and Gent. Always looking for sign, a fresh trail left by a line of horses. We found some counterfeit trails. One looked new, but it was only the false likeness caused by the rain. Another was fresh, but it was only eight horses and bore northwest. There were burro tracks, antelope, maverick cow, even some stray horse prints.
When I cut the trail, it took me a piece to even see it for what it was. I dropped off the horse and checked it out close. It was over twenty horses, closer to thirty. Some of them were spares walking off from the main herd. There were two unshod mules. I found prints of the horse with the broken shoe. It was them for sure.
The find perked everyone up, especially Clay.
Me and Flaco got fresh horses and took off. It was really Gent and Dodger’s turn to lead, but Clay asked if we could do it. He knew I’d push myself harder, had a reason to.
As we pushed on, I started to see how fresh the trail was on the flats. On the sloped ground water ran over the tracks making them murkier. On the lee side of a hill was a really big pile of horse shit. Most turds I’d found were soaking wet.
Kneeling, I dug into the pile and crumbled a turd in my hand. I turned to Flaco, “It’s still warm.”
He grinned. Me too. So did Clay.
We changed horses again. I dug in my heels, “Let’s go get her, Cracker.”
Me and Flaco left everyone behind.
»»•««
An hour later, we were bellied on a ridge. Flaco handed me the field glasses. He didn’t say nothing, didn’t need to.
The mist had cleared and low sun ahead of us showed under the clouds casting a wet yellow light on everything. A quarter-mile away banditos were wandering around collecting firewood, what there was of it. The horses were on two picket lines. When we’d found them they were watering in a thin stream. There was a knot of people to one side, mostly sitting. I set my elbows solid and adjusted the focus as best I could.
There was Marta. My throat about lumped up. So small, on one knee breaking sticks. She had a red-brown blanket over her shoulders. Her long black hair was tied in a ponytail. She stood, and I saw she was only wearing her black socks and filthy gray long johns. Damn, she must be freezing. Six days of this and all else what had happened to her. I ground my teeth. I stared a long time. Something about her didn’t look right. Like she could hardly stand. She looked out of kilter. The other girls didn’t look any better. They were all wearing only dirty nightgowns, brown or gray blankets, and had rags wrapped around their feet. The two blonde girls’ hair were matted and tangled. Wearing as little as they were and all wet and worn out, they must be shaking cold all the time.
Agnes, Clay’s youngest, didn’t look like she could stand up, just sat there staring off into the big nowhere. Doris tried to stay close to her, but one of the banditos set her to picking up firewood. Inés was setting rocks in a cook-fire circle. She crawled around on her hands and knees, too weak to stand and stoop.
My eyes kept going back to Marta. Flaco didn’t say nothing. He was letting me take all the time I needed. This was the first time I’d seen her since she’d been taken. Six days. It seemed like a year since I’d seen her. Watching that little girl was tearing my heart to pieces. I had to get her out of there, protect her, the others too.
A bandito swaggered up to Doris, knocked the few sticks out of her hands and slapped her to her knees. He dragged her to her feet throwing the blanket off, punched her in the belly. Why’d he do that? I thought. He pulled Doris’ nightgown over her head and arms to keep her from fighting, shoved her onto the blanket, and took her right there. The other scum didn’t give the rutting animal a second look, it was so ordinary. The girls looked away with Agnes balling up with the blanket over her head with hands to ears. I dropped the glasses, fought to keep from puking and fought to keep from picking up my rifle and charge in there. Flaco gripped my shoulder.
It was over in short minutes. Doris only laid there. Pulling the blanket over her was the only sign of her moving for a long time. The animal walked away like he’d done nothing more than had taken a crap.
I made myself look the banditos over. There were nineteen. In all, there were twenty-six horses and two pack mules. That gave them only three spares. Best I could see every man had a rifle. Couldn’t tell much about pistols seeing most were wearing serapes or ponchos.
There was one fella, not a very big hombre, who looked to be in charge, giving a lot of orders, shouting with arm waving and finger pointing. I don’t know, I guess I’d had it in my mind that El Xiuhcoatl, the dangerous evil bandito chief, would be a big fella. Watching them long enough there was another hombre who looked to be a boss too, a little taller fella, wore a fawn-colored sombrero with a tall pointed crown with a yellow ribbon around it.
I finally gave the glasses back to Flaco and told him who I thought the two honchos were. He watched and finally said, “I think you right. That one with the yellow and red poncho is El Xiuhcoatl. The other one, with the red and orange poncho, is his brother.”
“What’s he called?”
“I don’t know. May be serpiente de un ojo—one-eyed snake.”
“Anyone know their real names?”
“Yes, but it’s not me.”
“Big help you are.”
“I knew a cousin of his. Maybe she know.”
We watched a while longer trying to decide if this was where they were holing up for the night. There was still three hours of daylight. Awfully early to be stopping. We could see they were tuckered out. Maybe they were stopping early because they rest, a rest or they might only be stopping to eat and then move to a more hidden night camp. Flaco pointed out they were collecting a big pile of wood, more than needed for only a supper fire. Looked like they’d be bedding down here.
Gent and Dodger pulled up below the ridge. Flaco stayed behind the brush we were hiding in, and I went down and told them what was going on, how many and all that.
Flaco came scampering down the ridge. “Six are leaving. They go west.”
“That pulls a spoke outta the wheel,” I said.
“Maybe go to Las Norias. They not scouts. I don’t think scouts would go ahead or go that way first to circle around later and scout behind them,” said Flaco.
To Gent and Dodger I said, “You two stay here, keep an eye on them. Just don’t let them see you.” I felt bad telling them that, they knew better. It was just that we were so close now that I was scart something would go bad wrong.
»»•««
“Anybody got any ideas what those six are up to?” asked Clay.
I hadn’t told him what’d happened to Doris. It wouldn’t serve no good.
“I think they go ahead to Las Norias, but I don’t know why,” offered Flaco.
“One thing I can tell ya,” said Lew. “They don’t think no one’s after them splittin’ up like that. And they got no outriders patrollin’.”
“I don’t know,” said Clay. “Maybe they know we’re following, and they’re going to bring back more men. Either way, we need to decide what to do.”
“If theys want reinforcements ’cause they suspec’ we after ’em, they’d only send one or two men,” said Lew.
Clay said, “That’s true, but they’re leaving late in the day. Why?” He looked at Flaco.
“I don’t know,” Flaco said. “Sending off six men, they got to be doing something.”
“Who knows what they’re thinkin’.” said Lew.
Clay looked back at Flaco. “I know you don’t know any more about the lay of the land here than we do, but do you think we can sneak by those camped up ahead and catch up with those six?”
“What for, boss?” from Lew.
“Bushwhack them bastards, cut them down in size. Then deal with the others back here.”
“If we do that we won’t havta fight ’em later,” nodded Lew.
“They got almost an hour head start on us,” reminded Flaco.
“You think we can do it, not all of us, just five go after them?”
“We can try,” I said wanting to get this going. “But, we gotta leave right now.” Inside I didn’t like the idea of distancing myself from Marta, but if we cut out those six, it’d be better in the long run.
“No,” said Lew.
We all looked at him.
“We do like we talked ’bout before, we all go, exceptin’ two who keep watch on the main body. Those two would keep the remuda with ’em. We put down the six, and that gets us ahead of the main body. They’d never knowed it until they ride into our ambush.”
“Explain,” said Clay.
“If that detachment”—Lew was using army words again—“is headin’ for Las Norias, then that should be the direct route. Makes sense the main body’ll go that way too.” Lew summed it up. “So we take out the six and set an ambush for the rest. If the main body bypasses us, we cut their trail and hit ’em from behind ’fore they make Las Norias.”
Clay nodded and wacked his leg with his cuarta, “Let’s go.”
We worked fast changing out horses. Fred would hold the remuda here along with the pack horses. The kid groused about being left behind again. Musty took off to tell Gent and Dodger the plan. He’d catch up with us. They were to shadow the main body.
We moved out circling north and lit out after passing a good distance from the encamped main body—encamped, that
was a Lew-word too. Flaco was in the lead, and after an hour and a half, we cut the detachment’s trail. They were maybe two and a half hours ahead. The question was, would they bed down or ride all night? If they kept on, we’d probably not catch them before they made Las Norias. We moved fast. It was hard on man and horse. Everyone—maybe not the horses—knew that this would help bring this to a sooner ending.
We were on their trail for three hours. The sun had dropped in the west, the direction we were heading. Flaco was in the lead when he trotted back and halted us.
“I see a fire ahead.”
Chapter Forty-Five
I hoped for everything that no one breathed too hard. We were that close to the campfire. All eight of us lay there, each with a pistol in hand, excepting Jerry with his coach gun. Lew’d had us take off our hats, gun belts, spurs, and slickers too; they were noisy. We’d taken everything out of our pockets. He’d even had us jump up and down to see if we jingled.
The banditos all sat round their fire eating something that smelled good and hot. They talked a little. They didn’t even have a sentry out. The plan was to get in as close as we could, stand or kneel to get the best shot, and open up on them when Lew fired. Six of us had a bandito assigned we were to shoot at until he stopped moving. The men on either end of our line, Sessuns and Snap, were to shoot anyone making a break for it.
Everybody knew that sitting around a fire you can’t see squat behind you. If you looked back you’re night-blind, only seeing black even with a man right behind you. If a bandito got away into the dark, we’d be night-blind too because of their fire. We’d moved in on hands and knees from the southeast since their horses were on the northwest. That put us downwind.
It would start any second. I knew Lew wouldn’t wait long to lessen the chance of being caught. I kept telling myself we had them cold. There wasn’t much chance of any of us being hit, I hoped. The Dew had already lost eight good souls. A lot of other men had died too. I’d not been counting.
One of the Mexes stood and my breath caught in my throat. He walked to his bedroll and crawled in. Some of the banditos laughed at him. Maybe he had a bellyache.
The Hardest Ride Page 20