“So how much moneys you got to barter, jefe?”
“We ain’t bartering. I got sixteen hundred dollars. Tell them it’s all I got.”
I had to muse over that, sixteen hundred dollars American. That’s a hella lotta dinero. I’d never ever thought about holding that much money.
Clay suddenly shouted, “Doris, Agnes, you all right?”
“Daddy!” That from Doris, real weak. We heard nothing more.
Clay’s face grayed, and he stared off into no place. It made me want to shout Marta’s name, but she couldn’t answer anyway.
Flaco moved behind a boulder and started shouting Clay’s offer.
There was a long quiet. Then a hoarse voice shouted back, “Voy a cortarle los chichis si disparan de nuevo.”
“I think that El Xiuhcoatl. He say if we shoot any more, he will cut off her tetas…breasts.”
“Oh shit,” said Clay. He shouted for everyone not to fire no matter what.
Then Flaco and Xiuhcoatl started shouting back and forth for a piece. Gent and Dodger moved in toward the east end of the finger. We’d soon have them boxed in good. Then little Fred scurried across carrying two rifles and a water bag. Shit, I wish he’d stay out of it.
Flaco slid down behind his boulder. “Jefe, he say he want to see the moneys first. He want you to come out and him too. You show him the moneys, then maybe he let the girls go.” Flaco gave a half smile. “He say he want to meet you and look into you eyes. He say he want to shake hand of man that not give up.”
“I don’t want to shake his damn hand.”
“Best you do, jefe.”
Clay looked at Flaco for a long spell. “Yeah, well, fine.”
“He say you good papa, coming after you girls like that.”
“I don’t need no compliments from that bastard.”
“I know, but that mean he respect you. That better for you.”
“Fine. I think he’s a gentleman and true hero.”
“Mi jefe dice que yo se…”
“Shut up, Flaco, I didn’t mean for you to tell that viper that. Tell him I’m coming out with a white flag. Him too. And tell him I don’t want another finger laid on them girls, none of them, or I’ll drag his naked ass through every cactus between here and Texas.” He laid his Colts on a rock.
“You be damn careful, boss,” I said.
“Hell, going down there un-gunned, there ain’t much I can do to be careful.”
“Just shake his hand, jefe. You don’t gotta like it.”
“I brought this from my war bag. Thought we might need it.” Clay tied a white handkerchief to a stick. He pulled a leather pouch in his coat pocket and started down the side of the finger to the trail.
El Xiuhcoatl showed himself holding a stick with part of a nightgown on it.
Musty shouted, “Hey, Flaco. Don’t shoot him jus’ ’cause he got a white flag.”
I could barely believe this was about over. Yep, it was still dangerous after we got the girls back—can’t trust them snakes over there. But I’d have little Marta back. My hands shook, and it weren’t from the cold. I could see those smiling black eyes in my head, like they were real.
El Xiuhcoatl had shed his serape and jacket and was wearing a red shirt, yellow scarf, and side-laced brown pants. He wore a small black sombrero with gold and silver coins sewn around the low flat crown. His two holsters were empty, but he still had his crossed bandoliers. He may have been small, but his big sideburns and mustaches with thick black eyebrows made him look meaner than a caged horny bobcat.
Another man stood not far away. It was his brother with a carbine cradled in his arms. He was dressed about the same, except he had a yellow shirt with red stitching on his pockets, gold Mex Army shoulder straps, and his high-topped fawn sombrero. His one eye was sweeping our side of the rocks.
Clay and Xiuhcoatl worked their way down through the rocks, cactus, and yucca, glancing down quick for their footing and then back at the other. They didn’t want to shift eyes off their enemy.
El Xiuhcoatl’s brother shouted something, and he answered back and shouted himself.
Flaco said, “Jefe, he say to tell those men better stop sneaking up over to our left.”
“Tell them to hold up.”
I shouted at Clay and Dodger. They disappeared into the boulders. Fred too.
Reaching the bottom of the draw, Clay and the bandit chief stood across the trail regarding one another. There were a whole bunch of rifles on them from both sides. I thought I was surely glad not to be in their boots. One of them sneeze, and they’d both be full of holes.
El Xiuhcoatl nodded and stepped onto the muddy trail. Clay opened the pouch and took out the stack of money and fanned it, showing it was for real. He pulled out a bill and handed it to El Xiuhcoatl. The bandito chief took it and kissed it, shoved it into a shirt pocket.
He stood there looking into Clay’s face, and Clay was looking into his. Then without a word or sign they took a step forward and shaked hands. Just one short pump, then stepped back. After a few moments, they worked their way backward to their rocks, both of them almost stumbling. Seeing this was silly and wasn’t working, they turned and made their way back.
When El Xiuhcoatl went into the boulders, his brother dropped out of sight too.
Clay was back in the rocks. Down near the end of their finger, I saw a Mex wearing a black sombrero with silver coins on the crown rise up, level a Sharps, fire, and disappear. Two-hundred yards away, Fred was standing straight like a beanpole. Looked like he’d been sneaking in closer. He crumpled to the ground.
Clay was yelling, “Hold your fire! Nobody shoot!”
El Xiuhcoatl was shouting too. He didn’t want this to fall apart either. He wanted to get the money and get out of this fix.
Dammit, Fred was barely fifteen. Damn kid, wanting in on the action. For a flash, I wondered who his ma and pa were.
Clay dropped down behind our rock. “That’s an evil son of a bitch. I saw immorality in his eyes. Now what?”
Flaco started shouting again, but it was a spell before the bandito chief answered back.
“He say no one else better move. He say for you to come back down with money, and he give you the girls. He want me too. He want to talk more.”
“Fine,” said Clay. He almost sounded chipper. “Leave your pistols. How do you carry all those damn things?”
“It is an easy weight, jefe.”
The two of them set out. Flaco carried the flag.
They stood on opposite sides of the trail, barely more than a rifle’s length apart. El Xiuhcoatl looked Flaco up and down. They were talking. I heard Clay say, “No,” real loud. Then he wacked his fist on his thigh. There was some finger pointing going on and a lot of words, but they were keeping it down, like they didn’t want things to go sour. Clay looked at the ground, shaking his head. More words. Clay looked back up and tossed the money pouch to El Xiuhcoatl.
The bandito chief looked inside, turned, and said something. He brother rose up holding little Agnes by the arm. She wore a muddy blanket. He gave her a shove forward, but El Xiuhcoatl shouted, and there was no more shoving.
Clay was rock steady, didn’t twitch an eyelash. Agnes stumbled toward him like she had no idea where she’s going. Even standing before her daddy, she didn’t show anything, just stood there so limp I couldn’t see how she stayed on her feet. Clay took her hand and with Flaco’s help guided her to stand behind her pa. There were more words spoken, and then El Xiuhcoatl turned again and said something.
Another bandito rose up and had Doris by the arm. The torn nightgown hung on her, and she was covered by a blanket. When she saw her daddy, she started pulling toward him with the bandito holding her back. Clay said something, and she settled down coming forward, never taking her eyes off her daddy. When she reached him, she threw herself at him, making him stagger. He had both arms around her, and talking into her ear. She finally let go and took Agnes in her arms, then led her up through the rocks. I s
tood and motioned her toward me. I wondered how Marta was going to behave when she came back.
The two girls stumbled behind the boulder and plopped down hard like they had no strength left. They leaned against each other. I thought I was ripe, but they stunk to high heaven. Agnes kept her eyes closed, like she didn’t want to see nothing and didn’t want anyone to see her. Doris’ eyes were wide trying to take in everything since she was among friends now. I gave them each an open canteen. Doris drank deep swallows, gulping fast. I had to slow her down. Agnes only looked at hers, holding it in both hands like she didn’t know what it was. She tipped it over and let water gurgle out. Doris stopped her and held it to Agnes’ lips, and she swallowed a little. They didn’t say nothing. Agnes didn’t look like she could if she wanted to.
“We’ll get you girls warmed up as soon as we can build a fire, get some hot grub into you too.”
Doris gave me a pain-filled smile and started crying real soft like.
I carefully touched her shoulder. “Everthing’s going to be better.”
Marta’ll be coming up! I poked my head up, and all I saw were Clay and Flaco climbing through the rocks. There was no one on the trail and not a person to be seen on the other side.
Chapter Forty-Eight
Clay’s arms were around his girls with Doris hugging him and crying. Agnes was as limp as a rag doll. I looked at Flaco, and he had a solemn look, shook his head, picked up his guns and took up a shooting position a good piece away.
“Give me a minute, Bud.” Clay talked to his girls. I heard him tell Doris he had to finish this up, that he’d be back directly. He took a knee beside me.
“I’ll give it to you straight.” He gripped my arm. “He’s not letting Marta and Inés go.”
“But he said he was giving us all the girls for the money.”
“Yeah, that’s what that black-hearted liar said. He changed his mind.”
I started to raise, a hand on my pistol butt. “He can’t do that. He said…”
“Bud, don’t do nothing rash. Sit down,” he ordered. “Yeah, the son of a bitch said that, but I don’t think he meant it from the git go. He’s hanging on to them for insurance, to make sure we don’t keep after him.”
“Hell, don’t he know by keeping them we’ll stay after him anyways?”
Clay stared at me.
“We’re going after them, boss, ain’t we?”
He looked away from me. It was the first time I’d even seen Clay DeWitt unable to look a man, any man, in the eye.
“No, Bud, we’re not.”
I guess I opened my mouth, but I couldn’t say nothing.
“Xiuhcoatl said he might let them go later.”
“I don’t believe that, do you?” I’m bristling mad.
“No, I don’t. I got to get these girls home to their mama. Look at them. They’ve been…well, they’ve been used badly, been through pure hell. They don’t have anything left inside them. They can’t keep going. I can’t send somebody back with them, couldn’t spare them if we were to keep after them sons of bitches. I need to be with them until I can put them in their mama’s arms.”
“Then I’m going after them.”
“And get Marta and Inés killed? Is it worth that, Bud? You think about that. I gotta do something here.” He stood.
“Everyone listen up,” shouted Clay for all to hear. “We got my girls back. They’re hanging onto Marta and Inés, to make sure we don’t chase after them. Said they might let them go later if we don’t follow. They’re coming out now to collect horses. We’re going to make up what they need by giving them horses from the remuda. They’ll be getting saddles from the dead horses. Everybody understand that?”
Everyone answered back. They didn’t sound none too happy.
“There’ll be no gun play. No accidents.”
He told Flaco to tell the banditos where we’d taken the horses of the six banditos we’d killed. There was some shouting back and forth. They seemed real pissed realizing we’d dry-gulched their amigos. After a short spell, a bandito came out of the rocks looking around like he was expecting to get shot full of holes. There were rifles a plenty on him, including mine.
Once he wasn’t gunned down in a hail of lead, others crawled out of the rocks. Three went out to catch horses idling on the flats, and others started collecting saddles, bedrolls, and so on from the deaders. I watched for Marta.
There was a lot going on, and I don’t remember it all. Gent had to cut horses out of the remuda and bring them up. One Mex rode out for the six bushwacked banditos’ staked horses. The others saddled and loaded up after taking everything they wanted from their dead. They even got two horses for their dead pack mules’ loads. I can’t blame Clay for doing all that, but at the moment I didn’t much like him. My brain rolled around, not able to hold onto any thought.
Clay idled up to me and offered a rollie. I know he’s trying to ease things up. I started to shake my head denying the cig. I didn’t. I couldn’t. Clay’s doing what he thinks best. And I’m thinking I’m going to do what’s best. I’m plum loco for even thinking about chasing after murderous banditos for a Mex gal who can’t even talk. Then I remembered those frijole beans, her easy way of shaving me, her warmth at night, those eyes, and her smile, when she was moved to.
Gent and Dodger brought in Fred, shot dead-center through the breast bone. His face still wore a startled expression, like his last thought was, “This ain’t a game after all.”
The banditos dragged out Marta and Inés, both of them fighting like hellions. Marta especially. She was looking all about, like she’s expecting me to come busting down there to save her. I want her to see me, to know that I’m there, but I didn’t have the guts to stand in the open to let her see me doing nothing, nothing to help her. I don’t want to speak of what I thought of myself right then.
Somehow, they got Marta and Inés on horses, lashing their ankles to the stirrups. We could see that Inés had been grazed on her right arm. They all rode over the ridge leaving their dead behind. They’d been upbraided real bad by half their number of gringos, in their own territory. We were all thinking they just might want to get even.
We only watched from the ridge crest. They rode on west; not a one of them looked back, excepting Marta. I watched until they disappeared into the gray mist.
We buried Snap and Fred on top of the ridge, hoping they could see Texas from there. We left the fucking dead Mexes to rot with their horses.
»»•««
The boys scrounged up pants and shirts and other clothes for Doris and Agnes. Doris was coming out of it, but didn’t say much. Agnes was still inside herself, deep someplace. We’d moved away from the battlefield and its smells. A fire was going for hot grub and coffee and to warm the girls. Sessuns picked rock chips out of Jerry’s face. Some of the boys kidded him about it improving his looks.
It’s time to go, to go home. Clay wanted to put some distance behind us and get into some rough ground to set a no-fires camp for the night. He didn’t want us to be found.
Everyone was loaded.
Clay walked up to me. We looked one another in the eye. “You’re going after her.” It wasn’t a question.
“Yes, sir.”
“Got everything you need?”
“I got a couple of Mex saddles, some of the Mex grub and grain, some clothes for when I get the girls. I only need two horses.”
Without turning around Clay said, “Sessuns, cut out the two best horses you got. You boys saddle them for Bud.”
As we saddled, Dodger came up. “Bud,” he looked anxious. “Bud, I wanna help ya, but, hell, I’m jus’ plum tuckered out; we all are.”
“You don’t need to say nothing more.” To the whole crew I said, “I ain’t asking none of y’all to go. You’d be a dumb ass if you did. This has cost us ten lives. I sure as hell ain’t holding it against y’all, and I don’t think none the less of you. Y’all proved what you’re made of. I’m crazy to go, but go I must.”
/> Every one of the crew came up and shook my hand and wished me luck and a safe return, looking me in the eye. That helped.
Lew handed me half a bottle of Ashton Rye whisky. “Might do ya good when the goin’ gets tough. I hope your cards run hot, Bud.”
Musty gave me a bandana wrapped up. “It’s some of Mrs. DeWitt’s fruitcake.” He’s all embarrassed looking. “For the girls when ya get ’em back.”
A little thing like that, it means something. I thanked him from the bottom of my heart.
Clay came last. “I wouldn’t have been able to get my girls back without you, Bud. You make it back to the Dew, you hear? We’ll be waiting for you, you and those girls. You got a home to come back to.” We shook. He clasped his hand on my shoulder, then walked away.
I warmed myself over the dying fire. Didn’t turn to watch them leave. I should of let Marta see me, so she’d know I was still alive. For all she knew I was dead. Maybe it was better this way, so she’ll not expect rescue, because I didn’t know if I could pull it off. Likely not.
Is this the right choice? I had a powerful feeling of being alone.
The fire burned down and wasn’t giving up no warmth as my excuse to stay longer. I wanted to get on their trail and find their night camp.
I don’t know a bee from a bull’s hoof how I’m going to do this. One against eight. If they got to Las Norias there’d most likely be more. I kicked a rock as far as I could. I gotta be nuts.
“If you want to catch up with them, we better get going, amigo.”
Flaco sat his horse with revolvers hanging all over them both. Two against eight.
Chapter Forty-Nine
“You ain’t going to ask me if I know what I’m doing?”
Flaco shook his head. “No, amigo.”
“Good, because I ain’t got no idea.”
“That make six of us,” said the pistolero.
“Six?”
“The four horses got no idea either.”
We got on their trail. The horse with the broken shoe I guess was laying back on that dark and bloody ground. Too bad. I kind of missed him.
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