by Wesley Ellis
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Teaser chapter
Silent Death in a Mexican Street...
A bandido appeared from nowhere, directly in front of Jessica and Ki, who were pouring kerosene onto a pile of wood beside the town hall.
There wasn’t time for Ki to react and his hands were busy, but Jessica moved. Seeing the bandido draw his holstered gun she threw her knife at him with deadly accuracy. Ki had spent hours showing her how to use a knife and now that training paid off.
The knife struck the heart muscle, and the bandit staggered back, already dead...
Also in the LONE STAR series from Jove
LONGARM AND THE LONE STAR LEGEND
LONE STAR ON THE TREACHERY TRAIL
LONE STAR AND THE RENEGADE COMANCHES
LONE STAR ON OUTLAW MOUNTAIN
LONGARM AND THE LONE STAR VENGEANCE
LONE STAR AND THE GOLD RAIDERS
LONE STAR AND THE DENVER MADAM
LONE STAR AND THE RAILROAD WAR
LONE STAR AND THE MEXICAN STANDOFF
LONE STAR AND THE BADLANDS WAR
LONE STAR AND THE SAN ANTONIO RAID
LONE STAR AND THE GHOST PIRATES
LONE STAR ON THE OWLHOOT TRAIL
LONGARM AND THE LONE STAR BOUNTY
LONE STAR ON THE DEVIL’S TRAIL
LONE STAR AND THE APACHE REVENGE
LONE STAR AND THE TEXAS GAMBLER
LONE STAR AND THE HANGROPE HERITAGE
LONE STAR AND THE MONTANA TROUBLES
LONE STAR AND THE MOUNTAIN MAN
LONE STAR AND THE STOCKYARD SHOWDOWN
LONE STAR AND THE RIVERBOAT GAMBLERS
LONE STAR AND THE MESCALERO OUTLAWS
LONE STAR AND THE AMARILLO RIFLES
LONE STAR AND THE SCHOOL FOR OUTLAWS
LONE STAR ON THE TREASURE RIVER
LONE STAR AND THE MOON TRAIL FEUD
LONE STAR AND THE GOLDEN MESA
LONGARM AND THE LONE STAR RESCUE
LONE STAR AND THE RIO GRANDE BANDITS
LONE STAR AND THE BUFFALO HUNTERS
LONE STAR AND THE BIGGEST GUN IN THE WEST
LONE STAR AND THE APACHE WARRIOR
LONE STAR AND THE GOLD MINE WAR
LONE STAR AND THE CALIFORNIA OIL WAR
LONE STAR AND THE ALASKAN GUNS
LONE STAR AND THE WHITE RIVER CURSE
LONGARM AND THE LONE STAR DELIVERANCE
LONE STAR AND THE TOMBSTONE GAMBLE
LONE STAR AND THE TIMBERLAND TERROR
LONE STAR IN THE CHEROKEE STRIP
LONE STAR AND THE OREGON RAIL SABOTAGE
LONE STAR AND THE MISSION WAR
A Jove Book/published by arrangement with
the author
PRINTING HISTORY
Jove edition/June 1986
All rights reserved.
Copyright © 1986 by Jove Publications, Inc.
This book may not be reproduced in whole or in part,
by mimeograph or any other means, without permission.
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eISBN : 978-1-101-16984-1
Jove Books are published by The Berkley Publishing Group,
200 Madison Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10016.
The words “A JOVE BOOK” and the “J” with sunburst
are trademarks belonging to Jove Publications, Inc.
http://us.penguingroup.com
Chapter 1
The Canon del Dios, a time eroded, weather scoured twisting channel of red stone, gaped before the three riders who picked their way across the cactus studded foothills.
“This is it, senor, señorita,” the Indian said. “This is the Canon del Dios.”
The Indian’s name was Squirrel. He was a Papago, a short, very dark man with his black hair hacked off unevenly. He had a cast in one eye and a crooked foot that caused him to hobble along clumsily when afoot. Just now he was mounted on a stubby, spotted pony, and on horseback Squirrel was at home. He knew this land intimately and he deftly guided Jessica Starbuck and Ki toward the mouth of the great canyon.
“How far now, Squirrel?” the woman with the loose honey-blond hair, startling green eyes, and exquisite figure asked their guide.
“Five miles up the canyon, along the creek, you will see,” the Indian answered without glancing back.
Ki was half white, half Japanese. He was a man who had trained his body and his mind so that he was never truly ill at ease. He knew his capabilities and they were remarkable. Te, the art of empty hand fighting, was his way of life, a way which subdued the mind and lent an amazing, controlled vigor to his lean body. Such a man does not worry much.
Still Ki was beginning to grow doubtful. They had entered the canyon now. Massive red walls closed them in on either side. A narrow, silent blue creek ran past them, winding through the willow brush and occasional sycamore tree. Crows called to each other from the branches of a twisted tree and took off in a flurry of black wings as the riders approached.
Ki glanced at the blond woman beside him and then lifted his eyes to the canyon walls. Now he began to see the cave dwellings, their windows and empty doorways like dark, watching eyes.
“Jessica,” Ki said, and when she looked at him, he pointed to the cliff dwellings above them.
“Is anyone still living there?” she asked their guide.
Squirrel turned in the saddle and shook his head. “Not here anymore. Farther up. Here is where the raiders came. Here is where the slavers took away my people.”
Jessica nodded. The cave dwellings, ancient and bleak, hung over them. There were signs of recent habitation nearer the river, on the flats: drying racks for fish, a stand of gradually dying corn, stretched hides on the ground.
The slavers had come, however, and these things would be used no longer. The work would be left undone.
That was what had brought Jessica Starbuck and Ki to Arizona this time: the slavers.
There was nothing new in slaving along the Mexican border. It had been going on for hundreds of years. The Apaches were old hands at it, gathering up people from the smaller tribes, driving them southward into Chihua hua and Sonora.
This was different. The cartel was behind it.
The cartel, a power hungry, violent international organization, cast its shadow across youthful America, recognizing the lack of organized law enforcement in the West and rich opportunities.
The cartel had murdered Jessica Starbuck’s father and her mother. Alex Starbuck had been a powerful and wealthy man, and he had been too upright to stomach the cartel. In the end they had eliminated him, leaving his daughter, Jessica and Ki to carry on the fight.
Now the fight had come to the Gila River, to the small tribes here.
According to Jessica’s informant this slaving operation was far larger, far better organized than any previous one along the border. Hundreds, perhaps thousands, of Indians were being taken south to be sold into bondage. Someone was getting rich from human suffering.
The name Jessica had been given was Kurt Brecht, and that name was quite familiar. Jes
sica’s father had left her a black book with all he knew of the cartel’s operations in it. Included was a list of officers, men responsible for the cartel’s crimes. Kurt Brecht’s name was near the very top of that list.
How her informant had come by that name Jessica would never know now. The informant had been found dead in an alley, both of his knees broken and a dagger stuck in his open mouth.
“We are being watched,” Ki said in a low, casual voice.
Jessica’s head turned slowly toward him, showing no surprise. “Where?”
“From the bluff to our right. I saw him twice. One man.”
“An Indian?”
“I think so. It’s only natural that they would have sentries out.”
Squirrel, who was a good distance off, heard them despite their low tones. “They watch for slavers,” he said.
Ki glanced at the man with some surprise. The Indian had volunteered to lead them to his people, people he said who knew the slavers and knew where they had gone but felt powerless to pursue their enemies and recapture their friends and relatives.
The slavers, they said, were Mexican bandidos working for a powerful man who lived in a great hacienda to the south. Squirrel had promised to find someone to show these two strangers the way.
He had also expressed doubts about Jessie and Ki’s ability to do anything about the situation. “One man. One woman. What can you do against an army?”
“Just find someone who knows where the leader of the slavers lives,” Jessica Starbuck had said.
Squirrel had peered at the beautiful blond woman, at the tall man who appeared to be Chinese like Sing, the laundryman, yet did not look Chinese. His one good eye had gleamed dully and then the Indian had shrugged.
“I will show you.”
The shadows were beginning to gather in the canyon, seeping onto the river bottom to stain the land a deep red-violet. Doves began their homeward flight before a fiery sky. Frogs began to grump in the willows.
“How far?” Ki asked again.
“Soon,” Squirrel replied.
The canyon began to narrow. The floor of it started to rise toward the red bluffs where now and then a stunted cedar was visible, hanging precariously from the ancient stone, clinging grimly to life.
The trail they now followed wound through willow brush and sage. A rabbit, startled by the hooves of the oncoming horses, zigzagged away, white tail bobbing.
The bandits were around the next turn.
There were a dozen of them, all armed. As Jessie and Ki entered the small clearing, they emerged from the brush, rifles at the ready. Ki’s instinct was to fight, but he could see they had no chance. They had been suckered but good.
Their leader was a vast bearded man with the smells of sweat, leather, and tobacco clinging to him. He had a huge belly, a nasty crooked smile, and black, empty eyes. He wore crossed bandoleers and two Remington revolvers.
Just now he was very pleased with himself.
“Welcome, friends,” he said with a mock bow. “Carlos, relieve the lady of her guns. Not the man. He carries no firearms, is this not so, Ki? All the same, Carlos, search the Chinaman. I am told he carries unique and deadly weapons.”
Carlos was a nervous, narrow man with long yellow teeth and a huge sombrero. He didn’t look sane. He moved to Jessica and slipped the Winchester repeater she carried from its boot. Then he reached for her holstered handgun, the custom .38 Colt. It had a slate-gray finish and polished peachwood grips.
Carlos wasn’t looking at the gun much. His hands slid up Jessie’s thigh as he reached for her holster. His dark eyes gleamed as he raked her curved, compelling body with his hungry gaze. He stroked her thigh, his fingers creeping higher.
Jessica slipped her boot from the right stirrup and slammed her knee upward into the bandit’s face. Teeth cracked and blood spewed from his mouth as his head snapped back.
Carlos staggered backward and then stood rubbing his jaw. A dirty little smile creased his jaundiced face and he drew a long knife from the sheath behind his back. He had started forward when a voice halted him in his tracks.
“Carlos, don’t be a fool.”
Ki who had been tensed, ready for the fight if it had to come and ready to die to protect Jessica Starbuck, looked to his right to see a tall, sleek Mexican dressed in black come forward three steps. He was in his early thirties, handsome, and well-built. His clothing was clean unlike the rest of the bandits‘, and his stride was smooth and purposeful.
“You saw what she did, Diego,” Carlos said.
“Put the knife away,” the tall bandit said. His words were spoken softly, but there was a tone of command in them as well. “Put it away, Carlos.”
Carlos glanced at the huge bearded man who shrugged. Slowly the knife was sheathed.
“Now,” Diego said, “relieve the woman of her weapons as a gentleman would.”
Carlos, eyes dark, moved again to Jessica Starbuck and slid her pistol from its holster. He backed away with the Colt in hand and then moved to Ki.
“He has no gun, no knife,” Carlos said.
“Search him,” the vast bandit with the beard commanded.
“But, Mono—”
“Search him, you fool!”
Carlos did so, his hands cautiously moving over Ki’s body. “I can find nothing, Mono.”
“Have him get down,” Mono said impatiently.
Ki sat his horse a moment longer, staring at the bandit leader and at the other one, Diego, who stood leaning casually against the shoulder of a black horse. Then he swung down lithely and stood submitting to Carlos’ search.
“Look in the vest,” Mono said. “That’s where he’s supposed to carry them.”
Carlos gingerly looked into the leather vest Ki wore, finding the hidden pockets there. He frowned, turned, and opened his palm to show Mono what he had found.
“These?” the bandit asked in wonder.
“Those. Get them all.”
“But ...” They were nothing but star-shaped pieces of steel, razor sharp to be sure, but how could these be weapons? How were they used?
“The Chinaman kills with those. Don’t you, Chinaman?
“I am not Chinese,” Ki said.
“Oh, yes.” Mono laughed. “I forget. Japanese, is it not?”
Ki shrugged. “You know so much about me, I am sure that you know that.”
“Yes, I know. It is just that there is no difference, is there?”
Again Ki shrugged. Carlos had taken his shuriken to the bearded leader who examined them briefly, nodded, and tucked them in his saddlebags.
“May I ask how you know who we are?” Jessica Starbuck inquired.
“You cannot guess?” Mono asked in surprise.
“Yes, I can. Kurt Brecht told you.”
“Did he?” Mono appeared surprised. “And who is that?”
Jessica didn’t answer. She looked around her at the circle of grinning bandits, at the tall lean man who was smoking a thin cigar, watching her with frank enjoyment.
“It was a good plan, was it not?” Squirrel asked. The Indian was pleased with himself, with the trap he had triggered. “I brought them to you as I said I would.”
“Yes,” Mono said without enthusiasm.
“I, Squirrel, brought them to you. I fooled them. And now you will reward me, will you not?”
“Yes,” Mono said, “now,” and he carelessly drew his revolver and shot Squirrel in the face. The bullet emptied the Indian’s right eye socket and the back of his skull exploded. Squirrel was hurled back and lay twisted and bloody in the brush.
“Stupid indio,” Mono said. He looked at Ki and then at Jessica Starbuck. Whatever he saw in their eyes apparently satisfied him, so he holstered his Colt.
“What are you going to do with us?” Jessica asked. Her voice was tight, her green eyes angry.
“Do?” Mono laughed. “Fulfill your wishes, Senorita Starbuck. You came here hoping to find the man who pays us, did you not?”
“Yo
u’re taking us to Brecht?” Ki asked.
“Brecht? Again that unfamiliar name. I am taking you to the man who pays us for our labors.”
“I could pay you more not to take us,” Jessica said. “My father was a wealthy man. I’m a wealthy woman.”
Mono seemed to think that over, stroking his thick beard. “I do not think there is enough gold to pay me to go against this man. I would only end up like the stupid indio.” He inclined his head toward Squirrel. “And if you and this Japanese man do not cooperate with us, it may very well be that we shall simply kill you and take your heads with us as proof you have been eliminated.”
“He wants them alive,” Diego said quietly.
“He said only that he would prefer to have them alive, Diego Cardero,” Mono said. His eyes flashed in a way that let Jessica know there was contention between the bearded Mono—whose name meant ape in Spanish—and the lean, handsome bandit in black.
“As you say, Mono. But I would not harm the woman if I were you.” Diego Cardero’s eyes were capable of reflecting menace, too. They did that now and Mono, his lip curled back, watched him. Ki noticed the brief duel of wills, the watchful expressions of the other bandidos. Something violent, threatening, passed between the two bandit leaders and then dissipated like smoke.
Mono shrugged. “We will discuss it later. My advice to you, Jessica Starbuck and Ki, is to come without struggle, to do exactly as you are told to do. Otherwise—” He shrugged meaningfully.
“We will do exactly as you wish,” Ki said, though he had no intention of doing that, had no intention at all of letting the cartel get its hands on Jessica Starbuck. Mono was watching him dubiously.
The huge bandit leader nodded at length. “Bueno. Just so you understand.”
“I understand,” Ki said, hoping the man did not understand that he would kill before he would allow anything to happen to Jessica Starbuck.
But there was nothing Ki could do just then as he was placed back on his horse and, along with Jessica Starbuck, led out of the dusk shadowed canyon. There was nothing anyone could do—not Ki or Jessie, not the lone figure who still followed them along the rim of the canyon bluff.