by Steve Hayes
She took a deep breath to steady herself, and then said:
‘There’s a man, a very powerful man, a rancher who has more land and more cattle than all the other ranchers in New Mexico combined and yet he still wants more. He rules Santa Rosa and all the land for miles around like a medieval king. He bribes senators, puts judges in office, and tells sheriffs what to do.’
‘Stadtlander. Stillman J. Stadtlander.’
‘Then you know him?’
‘We’ve crossed trails.’
‘And you’re still alive? I’m impressed.’
‘Don’t be. Like you said: I’m the one hidin’ out down here.’
There was shame in his voice as if he hated himself for running away. Wishing now she hadn’t mentioned it, she said:
‘I only met Mr Stadtlander once – at a square dance in Las Cruces. He came up to me and said how much he respected my grandfather. I was too intimidated to answer and that amused him. He said he guessed Grampa Tate had told me how they’d butted heads in the past, but not to hold it against him because he would never try to run roughshod over Grandfather again. Then he kissed my hand and walked off. Later I asked Grampa Tate about him and he made a face and spat as if to get rid of a bad taste in his mouth. Then he called Mr Stadtlander some names he’d never used in front of me before and stormed off. I never mentioned Mr Stadtlander to him again.’ She paused and sighed. ‘I guess he wasn’t born evil, though some folks say he was. But greed and the love of power, along with losing his wife and only daughter to consumption changed him – turned him into the ruthless bully he is now.’
Gabriel didn’t say anything. He could have told Ellen a lot more about Stillman Stadtlander, most of it bad, but not without revealing more of himself than he wanted her to know. So he said quietly:
‘You still haven’t told me what happened to make you quit the convent.’
‘He – Mr Stadtlander browbeat a bunch of witnesses into lying to save his son, Slade, from going to prison, maybe even the gallows.’
‘Nothin’ new about that, Ellie. He’s been bailing his boy out of trouble since Slade fell from the cradle.’
‘I don’t care about all those other times,’ Ellen said bitterly. ‘I just want Slade and that Iverson trash he runs with to pay for killing my sister.’
‘Cally’s dead? When?’
‘Three weeks ago. Three weeks and two days, to be precise.’
‘How? What happened?’
‘Slade and Mace and Cody Iverson got drunk one night in her cantina. They started breaking up the place and Cally told them to leave. When they wouldn’t, she got the shotgun she keeps under the bar and kicked them out. She thought that was the end of it. But they waited for her and after she’d closed up and was walking home, they grabbed her and dragged her into a gully where they … they took turns raping her and … and … then they killed her and left her for the coyotes.’
Gabriel felt a cold rage erupt inside him.
‘Of course, they denied it. Claimed that after they left the cantina they rode back to the ranch and played poker until sunup.’
‘And the law believed them?’
‘Why not? Sheriff Forbes has been on Mr Stadtlander’s payroll for years. Everyone knows that. Plus there were a dozen or more witnesses who swore Slade and the Iversons never left the bunkhouse all night.’
‘Witnesses who ride for the Double SS?’
‘Naturally.’
‘Damn,’ Gabriel said softly.
Both were silent a moment. Then:
‘I never thought I could wish another person dead,’ Ellen said bitterly. ‘But now, I swear to God I could pull the trap myself and watch all three of them dancing their way to hell.’
Gabriel felt the same way.
‘And what you just told me, you know it to be gospel?’
Ellen nodded. ‘One night about two weeks ago Cody got drunk in the Copper Palace and bragged about how he and his brother held Cally down while Slade … Slade….’ she broke off, unable to finish.
Gabriel pulled her close and held her tightly against him.
‘It’s all right,’ she assured him. ‘I’m not going to fall apart again. I’m not going to cry either. I’m all cried out. Now all I feel is hate. That’s why I had to leave the convent. You cannot feel as I do and give your life to God. God is merciful and he expects his children to be merciful; to forgive others their sins as he forgives us ours. But I can’t forgive. I’ve tried, God knows I’ve tried. But then I think of Cally, of how much she suffered, and all I want is revenge … to see the three of them die.’
Gabriel nodded, understanding.
‘An’ you figure if you find Mesquite Jennings, he’ll help you?’
‘I’m hoping. He’s a shootist, and from what everybody says as cold-blooded and deadly as they come. If anyone can kill Slade and the Iversons, it’s him.’
‘But why would he want to? Ever ask yourself that?’
‘For revenge.’
‘Yours or his?’
‘Both.’
He frowned, not convinced.
‘Five years is a long time to keep a hate boilin’. ’Least, it would be for me.’
‘I don’t know how to respond to that.’
Normally he would have let the matter drop. But for some unknown reason her disappointment made him feel guilty and he felt obliged to defend himself.
‘You’re forgettin’ somethin’, Ellie. Even if Jennings did your killin’ that wouldn’t be the end of it. Stadtlander would come after him an’ then he’d have to take down the old man too. And with twenty or thirty saddle tramps backing Stadtlander’s play, the odds of Jennings comin’ out on top ain’t in his favor.’
‘The odds weren’t in favor of David slaying Goliath either. But it happened. And I believe it can happen again. It has to. It’s the only way justice will be served.’
Gabriel saw a look in Ellen’s violet eyes he didn’t like.
‘There’s somethin’ you’re not tellin’ me. What is it?’
She hesitated before saying: ‘Jennings and Cally were more than just sweethearts. Their love was special. Cally told me so. Said if he hadn’t been what he was, and she’d been willing to live on the run, they would have gotten married.’
‘An’ you believed her?’
‘Why shouldn’t I? Cally and I didn’t always agree on everything, especially when it came to her choice of men or the way she ran her life. But I don’t believe she ever knowingly lied to me.’
Gabriel decided not to press the issue.
‘An’ you’re hopin’ that when Jennings finds out Cally was raped an’ killed, he’ll remember how much he loved her an’ risk his life to gun these skunks down?’
‘Wouldn’t you?’
‘I’ve never loved anyone that much.’
‘I don’t believe that.’
‘Meaning?’
Calling on all her courage Ellen said: ‘You’re Mesquite Jennings. You know it and I know it. So stop lying to me.’
His pale blue eyes turned flinty.
‘Lucky you’re a woman—’
‘Oh, please,’ she said, losing her patience. ‘Don’t threaten me. We both know you’re not going to shoot me, regardless of what I say.’
Her audacity floored him.
‘You got sand, I’ll give you that.’
‘Enough to make you change your mind?’
His tight-lipped silence told her no.
‘Why not? Do you deny you loved my sister?’
More tight-lipped silence.
‘Yet you won’t destroy the men who killed her?’
He met her gaze and held it.
‘Love can stir a man to do many things,’ he said quietly, ‘but deliberately stickin’ his head in a noose ain’t one of ’em.’
‘I’ll pay you,’ she said desperately. ‘As much as you want. In gold!’
He studied her, eyes full of questions.
‘I’m not lying. I sold the cantina. It didn’t brin
g as much as I hoped, but I’ll wager it’s enough to persuade you to kill Slade and the Iversons.’
‘You’d lose that bet, Ellie.’ He looked about him. ‘This place ain’t much, but it’s enough for me. I know how to die standing up. An’ when it’s time, this is where I’ll do it.’
She sighed, defeated.
‘Go home,’ he said gently. ‘Mexico’s no place for you. It’s still wild, like Texas an’ New Mexico were thirty years ago. It’s got mountains so high they polish the sun and deserts that suck the life out of a man. Take my advice. Go back to Las Cruces. Bury your pain. Find a fella who’ll treat you well an’ help you raise some young’uns. Make your life worthwhile. You deserve it.’
‘And Cally – what does she deserve?’
‘Cally’s dead,’ he said simply. ‘Nothin’ can change that.’
‘But avenging her death would make life less of a hell.’
He shrugged, not willing to argue.
‘One last piece of advice, Ellie: You have to go through San Dimas on your way home. If you talk to anyone, don’t be mentionin’ gold. They might figure you got it with you. Then your life an’ the old man’s won’t last longer than summer lightning.’ He leaned the pitchfork against the stall and walked out before she could stop him.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Gabriel caught up with Escalero as he was returning uphill from the stream. He had two heavy, dripping canvas water bags slung over his shoulders. Gabriel took one and helped the old man rope them to the side of the wagon.
Neither spoke until they were sure the bags were secure; then Gabriel asked Escalero if he had a weapon.
‘Sí, señor. Una pistola.’
‘Mind if I take a look at it?’
‘It would be my honor – Señor Jennings.’ Escalero pulled a gun from under his loose-fitting shirt and handed it, butt first, to Gabriel. As he did he looked intently at the gunfighter, his calm, unflinching gaze telling Gabriel that he had not survived all these years by being unobservant.
Gabriel smiled grimly.
‘How long you known, compadre?’
‘Since from the beginning, señor – when I first stopped the wagon and saw you. These eyes, they may be old and no longer able to see an eagle on high, but they do not forget a face.’
‘You’ve seen me before?’
‘Sí, señor.’
‘Where? When?’
‘One night. Outside La Casa Vega.’
‘Las Cruces? That’s been a spell. You got a powerful memory, hombre.’
‘This is one memory I wish to forget,’ Escalero said sadly. ‘I am but a grain of sand in God’s eyes, yet I know it is wrong to take the life of another – for any reason.’
Gabriel shrugged, neither agreeing nor disagreeing.
‘Sometimes,’ he said softly, ‘things happen for no reason. They just happen. Who knows why? Fella gets an itch. Has to scratch it. Calls you out. Slaps leather. It’s him or you. I make no excuse for bein’ faster.’
‘Nor do I pass judgment on another man’s deed.’
‘That why you haven’t told the señorita who I am?’
‘No, señor. I have not informed Sister Kincaide because I do not wish her to hire you – you or any other pistolero who is willing to kill these men for her. No good can come of it.’
‘Well, ’least we agree on one thing,’ Gabriel said. ‘But you don’t have to worry about me.’
‘You are all done with killing, señor?’
Gabriel nodded. ‘An’ there’s nothin’ I can think of could make go back to it again.’
As if suddenly remembering the gun in his hand, he now examined it. It was an old 1860 Army Colt single shot pistol. The grips were missing, the screws holding the brass trigger guard in place were loose and the firing pin was worn.
‘When’s the last time you fired this?’
‘Not so recently, señor.’
‘Figures.’ Gabriel pulled the 1890 Remington .44-40 from his Levis. The gun was only a year old and he’d paid extra to have a gunsmith engrave his initials on the left side plate.
‘Here, take this.’ He handed the revolver to Escalero.
‘What about you, señor?’
‘I got the Winchester. An’ if need be, I can always pick up another handgun next time I’m in San Dimas.’
‘Muches gracias, señor. It is most gracious of you.’
‘Let’s hope you never have to use it, compadre.’ Gabriel took a handful of cartridges from his belt and gave them to Escalero. The old Mexican placed them carefully in the storage box under the wagon seat. Then they stood with their backs to the sun talking about where the next water could be found, what the chances were of it being dried up or poisoned with alkali, and on which sections of the trail to San Dimas to be on the lookout for bandits.
‘If these hellions do jump you,’ Gabriel concluded, ‘they’ll come out of the sun hopin’ the glare will blind you. So be sure an’ keep your hat pulled down over your eyes an’ aim for the horses—’
‘The horses, señor?’
‘Sure. They’re a bigger target. ’Sides, around here horses are hard to come by. And a bandit without a horse ain’t worth pissin’ on. I know it goes against the grain,’ Gabriel said as the old Mexican looked uncomfortable, ‘but remember, you got a woman to protect. An’ keepin’ her away from those gutless sons-of-bitches is worth more than a few horses.’
‘Do not worry, señor. I will defend her with my life.’
‘I never figured differently, amigo.’ Gabriel paused as he saw Ellen emerge from the cabin then said softly, so only Escalero could hear: ‘Keep this between us, OK? No reason to throw a scare into her.’
Escalero looked offended. ‘No soy un hombre que chismes, señor.’
Gabriel grinned, amused by the old man’s saltiness. ‘I wasn’t suggestin’ you’re a gossip, amigo, I just meant this is strictly our business. Hombre a hombre. Comprendo?’
Escalero nodded, bowed his apologies and turned his attention to the mules. He was some old Mexican.
Meanwhile, Gabriel watched Ellen approach. He noticed she had pinned her veil up and despite her grim black attire, looked uncommonly pretty in the morning light. He liked the way she walked, too – like a spring colt prancing in a pasture or a young girl hurrying home from school.
Carrying the earthenware bowl of fresh eggs and the last of the biscuits he’d earlier insisted she take with her, Ellen let Gabriel help her onto the wagon. She then thanked him again for his hospitality.
He heard the disappointment in her voice. It cut deep and for an instant he considered changing his mind. Ellen must have sensed he was wavering because she continued to look hopefully at him, all the time praying he’d offer to go with her.
When he didn’t she sagged as if all life had been sucked from her. Then, turning to Escalero, she sadly told him to get started.
The old Mexican slapped the mules with the reins and urged them forward. The wagon creaked and rattled as it rolled away.
Gabriel shaded his eyes with his hat and watched them drive off. He felt as if a part of him was leaving with them.
Ahead of the plodding mules, at the far end of the valley, the trail forked: one route led to the desert and eventually San Dimas, the other climbed into the scorched foothills and then continued on up, higher and higher, finally reaching the Sierra Madre Occidental: massive, rugged, untamed mountains fraught with danger.
Gabriel sighed and toed the dirt with his boot. For the second time in his life, he knew he was losing someone important. Worse, for the second time he had chosen not to do anything about it. Could it be he wasn’t the man he hoped he was? Had his father’s prophecy finally come true?
‘Son,’ he’d said on the day Gabriel told him he was striking out on his own, ‘the path you’re taking is not a righteous one: it is leading you away from the Good Book.’
‘Pa, if God is the Almighty, the way you keep sayin’ he is, then he should be all around us – everywhere. An’ if he
’s everywhere then I shouldn’t have no trouble findin’ him when I need him.’
‘You keep packing that iron on your hip, boy, an’ you’re gonna need him all the time.’
‘Not if I’m fast enough,’ Gabriel replied. ‘An’ I’m plenty fast.’
His father, his low resonant voice sounding just as spiritual as it did at prayer meetings, said:
‘Son, I know I can’t change your mind. Only your ma could do that and she’s in higher hands now. But you hear me, boy. Hear me good. Gonna come a day when being fast with a gun won’t help you. Then you’ll find out what kind of man you truly are.’
And now, today, Gabriel thought as he again absently toed the ground, he had found out.
God damn that ol’ man’s soul, he thought angrily. Then, immediately feeling ashamed for speaking ill of his father, he silently apologized and let his mind wander back to Cally.
Memories of their brief time together flooded his mind. Oh, how he’d loved her and how she had loved him. And though that was five years ago and he’d long since gotten over losing her, encountering Ellen had brought those memories to the forefront and he realized they were as painful as ever.
So, why hadn’t he gone with her?
Common sense told him that he’d made the right choice; but deep down, where a man can’t lie to himself, he knew that his fear of hanging shouldn’t have stopped him; he knew his failure to measure up would always haunt him.
Heavy-hearted, he trudged to the cabin. On the way he passed the barn. His footsteps brought the stallion charging to the door. It snorted, tossing its proud head and pawing the dirt as if challenging him to dare enter its domain.
Pissed off, Gabriel picked up a stone and threw it at the Morgan. It hit the horse on its flank, stinging it, causing it to flinch. It reared up, angrily pawing the air and neighing shrilly. Then as Gabriel continued on to the cabin, the stallion suddenly charged him.
Gabriel heard the horse coming. It wasn’t the first time the Morgan had attacked him. He had scars to prove that. Not wanting any more, he sprinted to the cabin and got inside before the stallion could bite him.
Safely indoors, Gabriel looked out of the window and saw the all-black Morgan raging up and down in front of the door.