by Ralph Cotton
They both drank from their clay cups.
‘‘So,’’ Sabio said at length, ‘‘my beautiful young woman married another—and why shouldn’t she, knowing that as a priest I was forever forbidden to take a wife and build a home like other men do? He was an American like you, a good man, her husband. Yet I despised him for having what I knew could never be mine.’’
Jefferies reached out, picked up the clay pitcher and refilled the cups, encouraging him to continue.
‘‘It is harsh and terrible, the punishment God lays upon those to whom he has entrusted his gifts, especially when they repeatedly offend him, as I did with my insatiable appetite for women.’’ Sabio sipped from the fresh cup, needing the wine to soften his pain.
‘‘When my beautiful woman had recovered from birthing her only child, his daughter, my Caridad, she and her husband and the baby set out across the badlands at a time when the Apache ran wild and murderous.’’
Jefferies began to see where the old monk’s story was headed.
Sabio appeared to relive the hurt even after all these years as he said in a trembling voice, ‘‘The two were barely breathing when the federales arrived in time to chase away the Apache. The baby lay wrapped in a blanket and was not seen by the warriors.’’ He crossed himself. ‘‘It was a miracle.’’
‘‘Yes, indeed,’’ said Jefferies, starting to understand the feelings between Sabio and Caridad.
‘‘They brought my beautiful woman and her husband to me, for me to use my gift to save them, as I did you, and as I had done with countless others at that time.’’
‘‘But, God forgive me, in a moment of selfishness, I tried to save her, yet at the same time let his life slip away.’’ He swallowed a tight knot in his throat. ‘‘But God would not stand for my foolishness that day. He knew I held back with my gift and allowed the husband to die. Because of it, he took them both. It was his way of telling me they would be together for eternity while a fool like myself would go on forever alone.’’
‘‘But he left you the child, Caridad,’’ Jefferies offered quietly. ‘‘The child of another man, yet still the flesh and blood of the woman you loved so dearly.’’
‘‘Yes, and I have raised her as my own daughter, and I have never harmed her.’’ He paused as he studied Jefferies’ eyes. ‘‘But when I look at her, and I think of how badly I am still cursed . . .’’
‘‘But you would never allow yourself to—’’
‘‘Do not tell me what I will allow myself to do,’’ Sabio interrupted, ‘‘unless you have lived inside me and seen my thoughts and know how weak I am. When it comes to sins of the flesh I have found no end to my depravity.’’ He paused, then took the conversation back to the past.
‘‘After I misused my gift and allowed the deaths of her mother and father, my gift has never been the same,’’ he said. ‘‘Sometimes it acts with the certainty of God—other times I seem to have to prod it along and make up excuses for it when things do not go right.’’
‘‘Things went right for me. You saved my life,’’ said Jefferies.
‘‘Yes, and now, seeing you return at such a time that I have become more concerned about Caridad, I am thinking that saving your life was meant to be.’’
More concerned about Caridad? Jefferies was afraid he understood too well what that meant.
‘‘Now,’’ said Sabio, ‘‘because of my terrible thoughts I fear my gift has been taken away from me entirely.’’ His expression darkened as he added, ‘‘If Caridad stays with me, I fear what will someday happen.’’
‘‘Then send her away with me, Sabio,’’ Jefferies said suddenly. ‘‘I love her—I fell in love with her the minute I laid eyes upon her. You won’t have to worry about her. I’ll take good care of her. I’ll make her happy, I swear it.’’
Sabio paused and took a deep drink of wine, as if needing it in order to relive painful memories. ‘‘I see her face, and I see the face of the only woman I ever loved. Yet, now that she is a woman, I find myself fighting with my lower nature to keep from someday defiling her, the way I have defiled all things I ever loved.’’
Jefferies saw the tears stream down from the old holy man’s eyes. He wanted to reach across the table and place his hand down over Sabio’s, but he couldn’t bring himself to do so. ‘‘Then it’s settled,’’ said Jefferies, his voice taking on a decisive edge.
‘‘Speak to her on my behalf while she still idolizes you, Sabio. Send her away with me before it’s too late.’’
‘‘I will speak with her,’’ said Sabio. ‘‘I suppose I knew from the moment I saw you that you would be the one to take her from me.’’ He arose slowly from the table. ‘‘It is better that I lose her to you than to any of those,’’ he said, nodding in the direction of the cantina. ‘‘Or to myself,’’ he added in a grim tone of voice.
Before Sabio walked away from the table, Sway Loden appeared in the open doorway and said to Jefferies, ‘‘So there you are, Kid. We’ve been looking all over town for you.’’
‘‘Why? What do you want?’’ Jefferies asked, standing and walking toward the open door.
‘‘Nothing,’’ said Loden. ‘‘We’re just gathering everybody up for some serious drinking before Prew and the others get back. Are you interested?’’
Jefferies gave Sabio a look, then said to Loden, ‘‘Oh, yeah, very interested.’’ He snatched his hat from a peg on the wall and put it on as he stepped out the door.
Chapter 19
On the last stretch of their ride back to Esperanza, Prew and his men had gathered beneath a cliff overhang and divided up their half of the gold coins. With the loot separated out and each man carrying only his share in his saddlebags, Prew and Cherokee kept el capitán’s share in three bulging sets of saddlebags they had slung over Cherokee’s horse’s rump.
‘‘Let me make sure everybody understands,’’ said Prew. ‘‘This bank raid is our own little secret. If any of yas start flapping your tongue about it, just expect to catch yourself a bullet in your head.’’ He stared from one face to the other as if to make certain each man heard his threat.
‘‘All right then,’’ he said, ‘‘all of yas ride away now while Cherokee and I stash Captain Murella’s share somewhere for safekeeping. Wait for us at the fork in the trail. Anybody caught snooping around here, sniffing for the captain’s share, won’t live long enough to find it.’’
The men understood. They formed up in their loose column and rode away. When they were out of sight, Cherokee said, ‘‘There goes some happy men. Let’s hope they’ve the good sense to keep their mouths shut about the bank job.’’
Prew nodded, not seeming too concerned about it. ‘‘It’s only for a few days. Once we ride to the border and take down the train, everybody’s going to split up anyways. If they want to shoot their mouths off about it then, that’ll be their business.’’
‘‘Right,’’ said Cherokee Jake. He straightened up in his saddle and looked all around the hillside. ‘‘Now then, what about el capitán’s share? What do you think we ought to do with—’’
‘‘Get off your horse,’’ said Prew, cutting him off.
‘‘What?’’ Cherokee looked stunned. He glanced at Prew’s hand to make sure he wasn’t holding a gun on him. Relieved to see that he wasn’t, Cherokee said, ‘‘Don’t you want me to find a spot for—’’
‘‘I said get off your horse!’’ Prew demanded impatiently. ‘‘Are you deaf?’’ This time his hand did go to his gun butt, instinctively.
‘‘All right, boss, easy now,’’ said Cherokee. He stepped down, giving Prew a worried look.
Prew’s hand came away from his gun butt and took the reins to Cherokee’s horse. ‘‘Start walking,’’ he said. ‘‘Stop and wait for me down by the trail. I’ll be there after I hide the captain’s share of the gold.’’
‘‘Oh, yeah, sure thing.’’ Cherokee, looked relieved, recalling how quickly Prew had killed Crenshaw and Stakes the day before. ‘‘I figure
d you’d want my help is all.’’ As he spoke, he stepped down and handed Prew his horse’s reins.
‘‘Not with the captain’s share,’’ said Prew. ‘‘I’ll take care of it from here.’’
He watched Cherokee walk away in the same directionas the others. Before he’d even gotten out of sight, Prew turned his horse, leading Cherokee’s behind him and rode farther up the steep hillside and to a narrow rock crevice. Stepping down, he looked back and listened closely for the slightest sound of anyone following him.
Satisfied that he was alone, Prew carried the saddlebags of gold into the narrow crevice. Where the crevice narrowed beyond shoulder width, he pulled back a thick wall of draping vines and laid the bags behind it. Leaning for a moment, he looked down at the skeletal remains of a man stretched out along the ground. ‘‘Hello, Charlie Lowe. I see you’re still here, watching over things as usual,’’ he said in mockery.
A thin lizard perched in an empty eye socket, looking up at him curiously, its tongue flicking. A bone hand protruded from the end of a rotted shirtsleeve. At the end of the outstretched calcium fingers lay a rusted, dirt-covered Colt, its hammer still cocked and ready. A rotting hat lay only inches from the skull.
‘‘You wasn’t hard to replace, Charlie,’’ Prew said. ‘‘It only took one trip to the nearest saloon.’’ Taking a step back, he grinned and said in parting, ‘‘You take care now, don’t go ’way.’’ Then he let the vines fall back into place as he turned and walked out. At the horses, he looked back into the crevice and said, ‘‘The captain’s share? Ha, in a pig’s eye. This is my last train job, Charlie. All or nothing!’’ He stepped into the saddle, took the reins to Cherokee’s horse and rode away.
Moments later, riding down the trail, he pulled the horses over and stopped where Cherokee Jake sat atop a half-sunken boulder. Cherokee stood up, dusted the seat of his trousers and stepped down off the rock. Without another word about the gold, he stepped up into his saddle and said, ‘‘I can’t wait till we get the go-ahead on that military train.’’
‘‘Me too, Charlie,’’ said Prew with a thin speculative grin. ‘‘I’m thinking it won’t be much longer.’’
‘‘Charlie? Who’s Charlie?’’ Cherokee asked. ‘‘My name is Jake, remember?’’
‘‘Sorry, Cherokee,’’ said Prew, gazing ahead. ‘‘I was thinking about something else.’’
At the fork in the trail, the two rejoined the rest of the men and started the uphill ride toward Esperanza. When they’d reached a point where they could stop and look down on the trail meandering beneath them, Prew glimpsed a lone rider pushing his horse hard, his black duster tails flapping out on either side like the wings of a low-flying bat.
‘‘Well, well,’’ said Prew, ‘‘look who’s coming here. It’s Dick Spivey.’’ Turning to Cherokee, he said, ‘‘Take a man with you, ride down and bring him to me.’’
‘‘Dead or alive?’’ Cherokee asked, ready to turn his horse and ride away.
‘‘Alive! By all means, alive,’’ said Prew. ‘‘This man is important to me.’’
‘‘Sure enough, alive it is,’’ said Cherokee. He looked at the gathered men and said, ‘‘Indian Frank, you’re coming with me.’’
Indian Frank Beeker turned his horse alongside Cherokee’s without a word. The two rode away at a gallop while the others stepped down from their saddles and led their horses out of the sun.
On the trail below, Dick Spivey didn’t see the small spill of rocks tumble down off of a rock facing. But his horse saw the rock spill and spooked. Veering hard, the animal sent its rider flying from his saddle into a bristly tangle of stiff juniper. Before the horse could regain its balance, its hooves slid in the loose dirt and it toppled over into a roll, its legs splaying wildly.
‘‘Jesus!’’ Spivey growled, thrashing about, pulling himself from the low stubby juniper bushes. ‘‘Crazy son of a bitch!’’ he shouted at the horse. He scrambled back onto the trail and saw the animal roll up onto its hooves and shake itself off. His hand snapped shut around his gun butt. ‘‘For two cents I’d—’’ But his threat stopped short, as he saw the horse favor its left front leg.
‘‘Damned if this ain’t all I need, a horse gone lame on me,’’ he said, spitting bits of dirt and juniper from his lips.
From one of the higher trails the ranger had taken, he’d heard the shrill whinny of the horse resound across the hilltops and valleys from a long way off. Searching with his telescope he found the rider and watched him dust himself off and amble over to the limping horse. One of Prew’s men? Sam asked himself. If so it wasn’t any he’d seen before. He watched the man inspect the horse’s injured leg, then pick up the reins and lead the animal on up the hill trail.
Headed for Esperanza . . . ? Of course. Where else? he asked himself. Then it dawned on him. Jefferies had said Prew and his men were awaiting word from their inside informant at either the army or the railroad shipping office. Was this him? Sam watched the man walk along for a few yards, then saw him duck to the side of the trail as two of Prew’s men came riding down toward him. ‘‘Uh-oh,’’ Sam murmured, seeing the two riders spot him before he could get himself and the limping horse out of sight.
But then Sam smiled to himself. ‘‘That’s more like it,’’ he said as he saw the man on foot recognize the two riders and walk toward them, their lips moving silently in the round circle of the telescope. ‘‘I see who you’re with,’’ he whispered. ‘‘Now what part do you play?’’
He watched for a moment longer, then collapsed the telescope, put it away and climbed back into his saddle. He’d have to push hard to catch up and stay atop them on the high trails. But he had a feeling this was the man they’d all been waiting for. Things were going to start happening fast, he decided, nudging the stallion and leading the paint horse behind him. He needed to let Jefferies know.
Riding double with Cherokee, Dick Spivey stepped down where Prew and his men waited along the trail. Taking the reins to his injured horse from Indian Frank, Spivey stretched and dusted the front of his shirt. Cherokee stepped his horse forward toward Prew. ‘‘There he is, boss, alive, just like you wanted him,’’ Cherokee said between the two of them.
Prew noted the scratches on Spivey’s face and the torn places on his shirt. ‘‘What the hell did you do to him?’’
‘‘Oh, that wasn’t our doing,’’ Cherokee pointed out quickly. ‘‘His horse took a tumble before we got there. He was already leading it up the trail. Lucky for him we come along when we did.’’
‘‘I’ll say,’’ said Prew, riding on over to where Spivey stood looking his horse up and down. ‘‘Havinga hard time keeping a saddle under you these days, Dick?’’ he said to Spivey.
Spivey turned to face him. ‘‘I pushed him too hard on these Mexican trails.’’ He looked around to make sure no one was close enough to hear him, then said in a lowered tone, ‘‘Everything is set for four days from now.’’
‘‘Good,’’ said Prew. ‘‘That’s the news I’ve been waiting to hear.’’ He stepped down from his saddles and looked Spivey’s horse over as he asked, ‘‘Is the signal still the same as before?’’
‘‘Yep,’’ said Spivey, in an even lower tone. ‘‘Look for three signal lanterns hanging on the caboose.’’
Prew smiled. ‘‘Simple enough. It looks like everything’s going as planned.’’
‘‘Except for one thing,’’ said Spivey, stepping in closer and looking all around again. ‘‘Sherard says tell you there’s a lawman snooping around. According to Sherard’s information he might be trying to weasel his way in on the operation and break it up.’’
Prew stiffened. But then, thinking about the ranger, he looked relieved and said, ‘‘We’ve already had a brush with him. It’s that Arizona Ranger, Sam Burrack.’’
‘‘Burrack?’’ said Spivey. ‘‘Damn, he’s trouble, that one.’’
‘‘Ordinarily, yes, he is,’’ Prew said. ‘‘But not to me. He sent my horse back to me aft
er some fool let him take it from him. He said he gave me back my horse so I’d turn two of my men he’s looking for over to him.’’ Prew grinned. ‘‘I suppose you could call that trying to weasel in.’’
‘‘Yeah, I suppose,’’ said Spivey. ‘‘He’s nobody to fool around with.’’
‘‘Obliged for the warning,’’ said Prew. ‘‘Now that we’ve settled on who the lawman is, what else?’’
‘‘That’s all,’’ said Spivey. ‘‘Sherard said warn you about him, so I did.’’
‘‘Yes, you did,’’ said Prew. He rubbed Spivey’s horse on its dirt-streaked muzzle. ‘‘Now, if you want to swap horses with one of the men, you can get back under way. Tell Ike Sherard I got his message.’’
‘‘If it’s all the same with you,’’ said Spivey, ‘‘I’d sooner spend a day or two in Esperanza. I hate swapping out a good horse when all he needs is a couple days’ rest and mending time. Sherard won’t be expecting me back this soon anyway. Besides, I get the willies thinking that ranger is prowling around out here.’’
‘‘Don’t worry about that ranger,’’ said Prew. ‘‘He tried to weasel in, but I cut him off before he got started.’’
‘‘Still, if it’s all the same with you,’’ said Spivey, ‘‘I could use the rest myself.’’
‘‘Suit yourself,’’ said Prew. ‘‘Find somebody to double with. We’re heading out.’’
As Prew stepped back into his saddle and motioned his men to form up on the trail, high above them the ranger, gaining ground, slowed only long enough for another look at them. Then he closed the telescope and pushed on.
Chapter 20