by Wesley Ellis
It was a small adobe with a red tile roof, shuttered windows, and a door which was firmly barred. It might have been abandoned, but Ki could smell cooking within the house. Maria pounded on the door with the side of her fist.
“Femando, Alicia! Open the door. It’s me, Maria Sanchez.”
“Who is that with you?” a voice answered after a long interval.
“A friend.”
“What friend?” the challenging male voice wanted to know.
“Someone you don’t know, Fernando. I’ll explain inside, but for the sake of Our Lady, let us in now, please!”
The door opened hesitantly and then swung wide. Maria hurried inside, Ki on her heels. A tall Mexican in longjohns waited, watching. Five sets of dark, children’s eyes watched from across the room where Fernando’s children clustered around the large, sheltering figure of his wife.
“Now what is this? Madre de Dios,” Fernando said, running a hand across his rumpled hair. “To come to a man’s house at this time of the morning at a time like this!”
“We need your help, Fernando,” Maria said.
“My help? You can’t stay here. No, if Mono—”
“We don’t want to stay,” Maria said a little scornfully. “My friend Ki here is going to fight Mono and you will help him.”
“Me fight Mono!” Fernando made violently negative gestures with his hands. “No, I have the children, I have my wife—”
“She doesn’t mean that I want you actually to fight the bandidos,” Ki said. Maria had begun to enjoy taunting her cousin. “She only wants you to lend me some clothes.”
“And a little something else,” Maria said. “Anyway, why won’t you fight? Yoa men of San Ignacio!” she spat. “Whose town is this anyway, yours or Mono’s?”
“It is ours when Mono is away,” Fernando said. “But when he comes, it is his. Everything is his. He comes, takes what he wants, does what he wants, and then after a little while, if we are patient, he goes away.”
“Leaving pain and destruction behind.”
“He breaks a few things. Steals a little—”
“Beats a few men, kills some, rapes your wives and your daughters!” Maria went on with savage mockery.
“We survive!” Fernando said, growing angry now. “Mono is a killer, a pig. He has killed many men; all of them have. They have destroyed towns when they were not pleased. What good does it do my children to have their house burned down around them, to have their father killed, to have the crops destroyed?”
Ki said, “Maria, we have business.”
“Yes.” Maria looked at her cousin for a long while. Her expression softened and at last she smiled, hugging Fernando. “I am sorry. Everything is so hard. You are doing the right thing.”
“I am doing all I can,” Fernando said, still defensive.
“Yes,” Maria replied. “Now do one more thing. Let this man Ki wear some of your clothes.”
Fernando was reluctant to do even that it seemed, but under Maria’s scathing gaze he agreed. The peon costume nearly fit Ki, though it was a bit short all around. With a pair of sandals and a red and black serape, Ki’s disguise was complete.
Or so he thought. Maria had other ideas. “Bueno,” she said, looking Ki up and down. “Now we go into Fernando’s shop, eh?”
“My shop, but why?” Fernando asked.
“Come on, come on. Also, find a sombrero, Alicia, por favor.” She took Ki by the arm and guided him to the inner door, which Fernando, muttering, opened and entered. Beyond was the barber shop. Maria, looking around, spied the box where the sweepings were kept. She fished around, found what she wanted as the two men exchanged an uneasy glance, and turned with her trophy.
“Now,” she said, holding up a hank of dark hair, “a little resin ...” She walked to Ki, held the clippings up under his nose, and nodded. “It will do for a mustache. After it is stuck on, Fernando will trim it for you.”
Ki didn’t think much of the idea, but he had to admit after the hair was gummed on and trimmed that it disguised him effectively.
“This isn’t going to come off, is it?” Ki asked Fernando, who was giving the mustache a final snip.
“You will be lucky, señor,” the barber said, “if that ever comes off your lip.”
Maria stood watching, arms folded beneath her breasts and quite pleased with herself.
Ki examined himself again in a hand mirror Fernando gave him, shook his head, and said, “And now the simple part is over. Now it is up to me to use this disguise.”
“Señor,” Fernando said, “you are really going to fight Mono?”
“I hope not,” Ki said honestly. “I hope I do not have to fight anyone to free my friend Jessica Starbuck. There are too many of them and they’re too eager to kill. But I will get her out of there—no matter what it takes.”
Fernando put his scissors and mirror away, shaking his head in wonder. There are many madmen in this world. It seemed that he had just met one, for any man who would try to stand against Mono the killer was mad.
“Now,” Ki said, standing and placing the straw sombrero on his head, “we will see exactly what can be done.” Ki started toward the door then, and in the mirror he saw Fernando silently cross himself.
A last prayer for a madman.
Chapter 8
The sun was bright, the pueblo still and apparently empty, though Ki knew all of the houses were filled with people like Fernando and Alicia, hiding fearfully, waiting, and praying that the bandits would ride out, firing a few last shots in the air, leaving the town to its peace.
Ki asked, “Who cleans up your father’s cantina?”
“What?” Maria blinked, not understanding the question’s relevance at first. Then she did understand and she replied, “My uncle, Natividad. But he will not go there today. No one would with Mono and his men there.”
That wasn’t exactly true, for there was at least one man in San Ignacio who would dare that task.
“Will your father give me away?”
Maria thought. “He is not a brave man, but, no, I don’t think he will give you away. Ki,” she said, “this is not a good plan. If you are recognized, they will certainly kill you. There must be another way to do this thing.”
“Yes?” Ki waited for a suggestion that made sense, but there was nothing Maria could say; there was no other way but to walk right in there and hope for the opportunity to get Jessie away from those killers.
“That’s what I thought,” Ki said. “You go on back to the shack or wherever you think you will be safest.”
“The mission church,” she replied without hesitation. “They will not find me there.”
“All right. Maria...” Ki’s eloquence deserted him. What could he say when he didn’t know if he would see her again, when he didn’t know if he would survive this day. She went to tiptoes and kissed him and then spun away almost in anger, walking toward the distant, high-walled mission church.
Ki watched her for a moment. Then resolutely tugging his sombrero lower and hunching his back to make himself appear smaller, less athletic, he shuffled off through the empty, dusty streets of San Ignacio toward the cantina.
He approached through the back alley. There was no one on the streets at all. A yellow dog, rail thin, watched Ki pass his resting place in the shade; otherwise Ki didn’t see a living thing.
Until he saw Arturo.
The bandit was perched on a barrel, dark sombrero worn over his eyes and rifle across his knees. Ki slowed his pulse and continued on, shuffling to where the bandido sat.
“What do you want, dog?” Arturo growled.
“To clean up, señor, to sweep as I always do.”
Arturo tipped his hat back a little and with red, glassy eyes peered at the narrow, hunched peon before him. “All right,” he said at last, “but be careful you don’t wake anyone up. Mono is in there asleep. You know Mono, don’t you, dog?”
“Sí, señor.”
“If you wake Mono up, maybe he’ll clip
your huevos off for you. Understand me?”
“Yes, I understand. Very quiet—but I must sweep.”
Arturo grunted something, pulled his hat down again, and apparently went to sleep himself as Ki entered the back door, his rope-soled sandals shuffling along the corridor.
Sanchez, exhausted from the night’s work and the tension, was behind the counter on a stool, his head resting on his arms. His head came up quickly, his eyes registering confusion.
“Who ... ?”
“It is only me, Natividad,” Ki said. “Come to sweep up.”
Sanchez’s eyes narrowed. Something about this stranger registered in the back of his mind, but Sanchez couldn’t put his finger on just what it was. Sanchez simply remained silent rather than stir up the bandits in any way. He watched without comment as the man who was pretending to be Natividad found a broom and began to work among the tables where the bandits sprawled, reeking of sour liquor and tobacco, of sweat and gunpowder.
Mono’s eyes blinked open suddenly and the bandit chief glowered at Ki. Ki saw Mono’s body tense, saw his meaty hand drop toward his gun butt. It was over. The bandit king was going to kill him, carry his severed head off to the cartel, and have his way with Jessica Starbuck.
But it didn’t happen that way. Mono didn’t recognize Ki any more than Sanchez did. He opened his bleary eyes, saw a peon sweeping the floor of the saloon, and closed his eyes again, letting his huge hand drop away from the butt of his Colt.
Ki worked silently among the drunk, sleeping outlaws. His eyes measured each man, noted his position, and his sweeping took him closer and closer to the blond woman dozing in a comer chair.
Ki looked around again, noticing that Diego Cardero was not around. With his broom he nudged the leg of Jessie’s chair, then nudged it again, harder yet.
Her green eyes popped open.
Maybe Sanchez and Mono didn’t recognize Ki, but Jessica Starbuck had been long on the trail with this man, this Ki, and she knew him instantly. Her lips parted automatically to speak, but she was awake enough to clamp them shut again.
Her hands were tied, but her ankles were not: Looking around slowly, she saw that the outlaws still slept, except possibly for the guard out front and the one in the back alley.
Ki was there and wonderfully alert. He had pasted on a mustache and borrowed some clothing, but it was Ki and Jessie’s heart lifted slightly, suddenly, as Ki nodded toward the back corridor.
They were going to try it. They were going to try to make their escape from under the guns of Mono and his band of criminals. They had no weapons, not even Ki’s shuriken, but it was time—it was the best chance they had had, the best they might ever have.
“Now,” Ki said so softly that his voice hardly carried to Jessica who looked into his eyes, making sure that she had made no mistake in what she heard. Ki nodded and shifted the broom slightly. He began backing toward the hallway, his head inclining again, urging Jessica to follow.
She bolted out of her chair and all hell broke loose.
Mono hadn’t been as sleepy as he had looked, nor had the Indian, Halcón, and another man to Ki’s left. The Indian grabbed at Jessie as she passed his chair, caught her sleeve, and yanked her back. Jessie went for his eyes with stiffened fingers, but Halcón was able to turn his head away. He fell back over his chair and regained his balance, still gripping Jessica’s sleeve tightly.
He laughed out loud at her temerity. He hadn’t counted on any trouble from the peon who was sweeping up the cantina. But he got plenty of it.
Ki was a man of the martial arts and he had a weapon in his hand. The broom.
Once Ki had spent many, many hours working with a master of the art of fighting with a staff. The broom was close enough to a weapon. Ki turned on one heel and brought the handle of the broom up into Halcón’s midsection, driving the air painfully from his diaphragm. The bandit oofed and plopped back into his chair, losing his hold on Jessie’s arm.
To Ki’s left, a bandit drew his revolver and aimed it with liquor-fogged eyes. Ki’s broom seemed simply to swat the gun away. The Mexican howled with pain and clutched at his broken wrist.
Jessie was darting toward the corridor as Ki spun again, unleashed a stunning backward kick that landed on Mono’s heart, and followed with the handle of the broom. He struck the bandit leader above the eye and rocked him back on his heels.
A bullet flew across the room, punching a hole through a barrel near Sanchez’s head, and Ki chose the better part of valor, making his own dash toward the corridor and hurling himself the last few feet as three or four more bullets ripped at the adobe walls, spattering Ki with plaster.
Jessie was at the end of the corridor, poised at the door opening to the alley. As Ki watched, the door popped open and Arturo, clawing at his sleep-encrusted eyes, entered the corridor.
Ki had been expecting that and he never stopped his running motion. With a cry of combat rising to his lips, Ki executed a flying kick that sent Arturo reeling back into the alley, clutching his throat. Ki took Jessie’s hand, leaped over the thrashing bandit’s body, and raced up the alley.
Mono and his men were tight on their heels. A fusillade of bullets traced their way through the alley, slamming into walls, penetrating barrels and piles of splintered lumber, and ricocheting crazily into the dry, bright day.
“There!” Ki said, and Jessie threw herself into the mouth of a connecting alley, Ki following right behind.
“Which way now?” she asked breathlessly.
Ki answered, “The church. Maria said it was safe there. The church, Jessica, hurry!”
There wasn’t much time for discussion, so Jessie went along with the idea. From behind them, they could hear much cursing, the rush of boots and Mono shouting a hysterical command.
They crossed the plaza without being seen, entered yet another alley, and circled toward the mission church. The heavy gates were shut and presumably barred. Jessie was breathing heavily; Ki’s heart raced in his chest. Any second now, any second Mono and his gang would appear at the head of the street and that would be that. The guns would open up and what was left of their corpses would be on the way to Don Alejandro.
Ki reached the gate first and pounded on the heavy oak planks with the heel of his hand, but there was no response from within. None at all.
“Ki!” It was Jessica who saw a gate open, saw a cassocked figure waving an urgent hand. They ran to the small gate and slipped through just in time. Mono was rounding the comer farther up the street, red-faced, hatless, shouting at his men, and threatening them with death and worse if they didn’t find the gringa and the Chinaman.
Jessie and Ki could hear his ringing curses, his violent threats, as they followed the friar with the shaved head up a thickly overgrown garden path to a side entrance to the great mission church.
Inside it was dark, cool, still.
“This way,” the friar said and he led them to a wall panel that sprung open magically at his touch. A flight of adobe stairs led downward into a vast, dark chamber.
“In other times,” the friar said, “we of our order hid from the king’s emissaries of violence.”
Mono’s emissaries of violence couldn’t have been far behind. Jessica Starbuck and Ki didn’t need a second invitation to follow the friar into the hidden chamber.
At the bottom of the stairs, there was a narrow, high ceilinged alcove with a heavy Spanish table and six chairs. Maria sat in one of these.
She rose and came to Ki, hugged him, and drew a curious glance from Jessica Starbuck.
The priest had hung the lantern on the wall, and he turned now, folding his hands.
“I am Brother Joseph, rector of the Misión de San Ignacio. You are welcome to stay here for as long as you must.”
Jessica replied, “Thank you. Will there be trouble with Mono over this?”
“There is always trouble,” he said. “He will come and search the church perhaps, but he will not find you here.”
They heard a
thump on the ceiling, then two more thumps. Brother Joseph said, “We have visitors. Just speak quietly, if you will.”
“I never thought you’d make it, Ki,” Maria said. “You had me frightened.”
Ki, who was untying the ropes Jessie still wore on her wrists, answered, “I frightened myself just a little. I wouldn’t want to try it again.”
“What will you do now?” the friar asked. “Wait until dark and slip away? Or is it safer to wait a few days?”
“We’ll make that decision later,” Jessica said. “If there is any way to get a couple of horses, I can pay you for them. We’ll need horses on our ride south.”
“South?” Maria Sanchez shook her head, not understanding. “But your home is north.”
“Yes, it is, but the house of Don Alejandro is to the south.”
“Don Alejandro? The slaver?”
“That’s right. This is all his doing, and if you think,” Jessie said heatedly, “that he’s going to get away with this, you’re mistaken. Isn’t that so, Ki?”
“It’s something we should talk about, Jessica.”
“He’s cartel, Ki. He’s cartel and he’s a slaver and he’s got a bounty out on us.”
Brother Joseph looked from one to the other, not catching all of this. “The cartel?”
“We’ll explain when there’s time. Let’s just say that Don Alejandro is a criminal and an enemy of ours.”
“But what could you possibly do?” the friar asked. “With a powerful man like this, how can you hope to win?”
“We’ll see,” Jessie said. “Ki and I have handled situations like this before.”
Ki looked doubtful. Jessica could be headstrong at times and Don Alejandro appeared to be a formidable foe. Maria spoke up. “You will handle him as you handled Mono, perhaps?”
Jessica smiled, but there wasn’t a great deal of humor in it. They heard another thump, but this one wasn’t a signal. Something crashed to the floor and seemed to splinter.
“The rectory—they’re tearing it apart,” Brother Joseph said. He crossed himself and added, “I’m going up. They’ll wonder where I am.”