Pistolero Justice (A Piccadilly Publishing Western

by Patrick E. Andrews

  “He is charged with murder,” the judge said. “And how are you Don Jorge?”

  “Fine, thank you.”

  The judge cleared his throat. “Señor Mackenzie claimed he was in your office at the time the crime was committed.”

  The prosecutor leapt to his feet. “Ask him the exact time. Your questioning is too ambiguous.”

  “Shut up, Paco!”

  “But I am only seeking justice, Uncle.”

  Lopez glared at the prosecutor. “Yes! He was in my office at the time — the exact time — the crime was committed.”

  The judge was thoughtful for a moment. “Unfortunately, there are many complications. Conflicting witnesses and evidence that seem to muddy up the picture.”

  Lopez took the hint. “Perhaps if the expenses of the necessary proceedings were paid in advance the entire affair could be ended quickly.”

  The judge looked at his nephew. “Well, Paco?”

  The prosecutor, sensing a different source of revenue, smiled broadly. “Oh, yes, Uncle.”

  “We shall make the arrangements then,” Lopez said.

  “In that case,” the judge announced, lifting his gavel. “I find the defendant innocent of the charges brought against him.”

  As the shackles were removed, Raul’s joy at this turn of events was dimmed by the sobering thought of the quest he had yet to fulfill. He knew the San Diego bound ship had left Mazatlan the night before.

  Chapter Twelve

  Loretta Slattery swayed in the saddle and would have fallen off her horse if Angel hadn’t grabbed her. She awoke startled, then regained her balance.

  “Patron!” Angel called out. “We must rest a while.”

  Raul stood in his stirrups and looked back at them from his place at the head of their small column. He had been unable to find any other ships bound for America in Mazatlan, consequently the trio would have to continue their trip on horseback across the Sonoran Desert.

  It was obvious the girl was fatigued to the point of exhaustion. After eighteen hours of a circuitous route of travel and much backtracking, Raul had to admit he was tired as well. He turned Borrasca back to join the other two who were waiting a short distance behind him.

  “How do you feel, Miss Slattery?” Raul asked as he led them behind a manzanita grove.

  “Fine,” she replied, embarrassed. “I’m sorry I fell asleep. It was silly of me.”

  Angel shook his head. “I do not think we can go on without some rest.” He couldn’t understand the girl’s words, but her voice made her physical fatigue plain enough.

  “I don’t want to slow us up,” Loretta insisted.

  “You’re not,” Raul said. “I was thinking of stopping in half an hour anyway. You get some sleep. Angel and I can take turns on watch. I think after these long hours of steady riding, we all deserve a rest.” He had to admit he admired Loretta’s spunk as he helped her from the saddle.

  “This will make the señorita more comfortable,” Angel said, spreading out a serape for her.

  The girl wordlessly sank to the cover and stretched out. Within moments she was sleeping

  Angel looked down at her and smiled. “Is she not lovely, patron?”

  Raul pulled a cigar from his shirt and lit it. “Not bad.”

  “Not bad?” Angel said, laughing softly. “I have noticed the way you watch her. There is no lust in your eyes. Only tenderness.”

  “I feel sorry for her.”

  “I think you feel more than that, patron.”

  “I’ll take the first watch.”

  “Maybe you are falling in love.”

  Raul ignored the remark. “Grab a siesta, Angel. I will wake you in an hour. Then I will rest a bit.”

  “And you will dream of her.”

  “Get some rest!” Raul snapped.

  “Do you wish me to sleep somewhere else, patron?”

  “Do not be such an estupido!”

  Raul went to the edge of the grove and picked a point that gave him a good view of the surrounding countryside. He slowly smoked the cigar and, despite the fact his eyes were ceaselessly scanning the horizon, his thoughts were concentrated on Loretta Slattery.

  Angel was right. She was lovely. The longer he was near her, the more disquieting the situation was becoming. Most of the relationships he had with women had been casual affairs, such as flirtations at dances or rendezvous in the moonlight with a girl like Carlita in San Tomas. The idea of settling down and spending his entire life with one woman had never entered his mind before. But since he’d met Loretta, those notions had come unbidden, nearly instinctively, into his consciousness more often than pleased him.

  Raul tried to be more impersonal about the girl by reminding himself that she had been taken by many men. One after the other had gone up to her room in Selva Vista and had their way with her, feasting their eyes on her as they pawed and grasped at her body.

  “Godamn it!” he swore aloud in frustration.

  Raul tried to turn his thoughts to other things, but his mind kept drifting back to the enchanting image of Loretta Slattery.

  ~*~

  Some forty-eight hours later Raul, Angel and Loretta were still miles away from the U.S. border. Raul took his time both in scouting the area ahead as well as going back to make sure their trail was covered as much as impossible. This backtracking was also an opportunity to lay ambushes for possible pursuers.

  In the late afternoon Raul spotted a smudge of smoke ahead. He went to investigate and found the source to be a peon’s hut. Loretta and Angel joined him, and Angel suggested they approach the dwelling to see if they could spend the night there. The people would be glad to cook them a decent meal if paid for it, and they might have information that would prove useful. Raul agreed, but was still cautious. They observed the place from a distance for nearly an hour before riding toward it.

  The three travelers came up slowly on the hut, still wary but were greeted by no one except an old man and his woman. The little place was crude but comfortable. It consisted of an adobe hut, a well, and some scrawny chickens trying to get into a small garden guarded by a rickety fence. Raul stepped down from Borrasca and introduced himself and his friends.

  “I am Jose Montoya,” the old man said. “And this is my esposa Rosa.”

  “Do you live out here all alone?” Raul asked.

  “Si, señor. It is quiet and perfect for two old ones to enjoy a simple life in some tranquility.”

  Angel looked around. “But are you not afraid of trouble with bandits or other bad people who might travel past?”

  Jose showed a near toothless grin. “Bandidos? What would they want here, eh? We are poor and have nothing of real value. And my old woman? Not even a bandit after ten years in the desert would lust after her. We have found the answer to perfect contentment. If one has nothing in the world, one will be left in peace.”

  “We have food,” Raul said. “If you prepare it for us, we will pay you.”

  Jose shrugged. “What would I do with pesos out here, señor? Sharing your food with us will be payment enough. Especially if you have meat. We hardly ever eat it unless I can hit a rabbit with a stone. That never happens anymore since my eyesight started to fail.”

  “We have dried meat and fish,” Angel said.

  “I have heard of fish,” Jose said. “But I have never lived close to water deep enough for them.”

  “Nor I,” Angel said with a chuckle. “But my patron and I have been near the big lake to the west. There I ate those animals for the first time. Tan deliciosos!”

  “I would like to try fish,” Jose said.

  Finally Rosa spoke up. She had a deeply wrinkled friendly face. “The old man and I will boil our portions. What few teeth we have left can hardly chew enough for our bellies.”

  Angel went to his saddlebags and brought out the rations. Along with the jerky and fish, there were frijoles, corn meal for tortillas, and coffee along with several types of chili peppers.

  Rosa took the fo
od from Angel and paused before going into the hut to prepare it. “Does your woman not speak?”

  “Not Spanish, Doña Rosa,” Raul answered.

  The old woman snorted. “At any rate tell her to stay out of my kitchen while I prepare the food. There is room for only one woman.”

  Loretta sensed the exchange was about her. “What did she say?”

  “She said not to trouble yourself,” Raul responded diplomatically. “She says she can manage.”

  “That’s fine,” Loretta said. She went over to the well to wash her face. Raul watched her closely, then forced himself to turn away. He looked at the old man. “Has anybody else been through here lately Don Jose?”

  “Several months ago some Rurales passed by looking for bandits. Outside of some traveling vaqueros going from ranch to ranch, there has been nobody.”

  The men sat down on the ground, and Raul passed out cigars as they waited for Rosa to prepare the meal. Loretta stood off to one side of the hut, keeping to herself.

  “Is your woman pregnant?” Jose asked.

  “I do not think so,” Raul replied.

  “She is irritable and nervous,” Jose said. He eyed Loretta closely. “I think you should beat her, señor Forgive me, but she is well on her way to becoming a real quejica — a nag.”

  “She has had some trouble lately,” Raul said, “and is still upset.”

  “I see,” Jose replied. He decided not to inquire more into the affair. He knew if it were any of his business he would be told. Obviously it was not.

  “I come from a village we call Las Chivas,” Angel said. “It is to the north. Do you know it?”

  Jose shook his old head. “I do not know it. What did you do there?”

  “I tended goats.”

  Jose looked pointedly at Angel’s attire. The bandoleers and firearms were certainly not the usual garb of a chivero — a goatherd. “It would appear you are no longer in the goat business.”

  “That is right,” Angel replied proudly. “I serve my patron here. We have many adventures and battles.”

  Jose looked at Raul. “Are you from the same village, señor?”

  “No, Don Jose. My family has a ranch in northern Sonora.”

  Angel interjected, “We have killed thousands of bandits. Maybe more.”

  “Angel exaggerates,” Raul said.

  “My patron is a kind man and good to the poor,” Angel insisted “He is a master pistolero and carabinero.” Then he brightened. “And he also fights well with cuchillos — knives!”

  “He is only saying that because if he does not, I will beat him,” Raul joked.

  Jose laughed out loud. “I know you are speaking in jest, señor.”

  Rosa called out from the house in her raspy voice. “Are you lazy men ready to eat?”

  “We are starving, old woman,” Jose said.

  Raul motioned to Loretta and she joined them as they moved into the hut to seat themselves around a rough-hewn table of sun-bleached wood. The men chatted as the old woman spooned out the food. The odor of the meal spurred appetites and Loretta ate well, but did so in brooding silence. Rosa clucked disapprovingly, but Jose’s upraised hand signaled her that there was something unusual amiss.

  Finally they all begged the old woman for mercy and were allowed to finish up what was on their plates. Only after the others left the table did Rosa sit down herself to savor the meal she had prepared using an adobe oven and fireplace.

  ~*~

  The men spent the remainder of the day smoking and talking while Loretta sat by herself nearby. The only break in the male socializing came when Rosa came out and handed Jose an ancient guitar. The old man took the instrument and absent-mindedly strummed the strings. Raul and Angel ceased talking and listened until the aimless fingering evolved into a song. Angel joined in the singing as the two formed an impromptu duet of Mexican love songs that told stories of romances and beautiful women.

  Finally Jose stopped playing and went inside the house to fetch some pulque. This was an alcoholic drink made of the fermented sap of agave plants. He passed the fiery liquid around since this was obviously the only liquor he had. Raul and Angel knew the old man’s supply of the drink was limited, so they only took a couple of sips, allowing their host to return the jug to its place satisfied that his guests had been served.

  When the moon was full and high in the desert sky, Raul, Loretta and Angel set up a sleeping area some yards away from the hut. Jose and Rosa who were in perfect harmony with the world because of their poverty, retired to their hammocks.

  ~*~

  Raul awoke instantly wary. It was still dark and, although he couldn’t see well, he could sense movement nearby. He edged his hand over his carbine and slowly grasped it. He stopped breathing for a few moments and could hear faint sounds of movement by the well.

  He eased himself to his feet and the sight in the moonlight evaporated his feelings of dread. Loretta was standing by the well looking out across the stark terrain. Raul walked over to her. “The desert is beautiful at night, isn’t it?”

  She shrugged for an answer.

  He shivered slightly. “But cool though. I’ve been in the high desert in the summer when the sun would heat rocks so hot you could fry tortillas on them. Then, when the sun went down, the night cold would be so strong those same rocks would crack under the sudden temperature change.” He could see she wasn’t interested, but he carried on. “It sounded like gunshots.”

  “I see,” she remarked.

  “You’re cold,” Raul said. He went back to his gear and returned with his serape. As he slipped it around her shoulders the nearness of her overwhelmed him. She seemed so small and vulnerable, and her physical and spiritual frailties were intensified by his knowledge of the cruel outrages she had endured.

  Raul sought words that might comfort her, but could think of nothing in the two languages he knew. He instinctively wanted to take her in his arms and tell her how sorry he was for all the bad things that had happened to her. He put his arm around her shoulders.

  “Stop that!” Loretta hissed, throwing the serape to the ground. “Don’t touch me! Ever!”

  “I’m sorry, Miss Slattery. I didn’t mean anything.”

  “Oh, yes your did!” she exclaimed. “What did you expect? That I would let you fondle me, then obediently lay down and allow you to have your way with me?”

  “No! I wasn’t think anything of the kind.”

  “I’ve never realized what pigs men are,” she said. “You’re just lusting animals using women for playthings while humiliating them beyond all endurance. If I ever get back to civilization I swear I’ll never let another man touch me as long as I live.”

  “You’ll change after you’ve been home a while,” Raul insisted. “You have every chance of taking up where you left off before. You’re still the same person.”

  “I am not the same person!” Loretta argued bitterly. “How could I ever be? How could any young woman?”

  Raul was frustrated in his concern for her. “I can’t think of what to say, Miss Slattery.”

  “Don’t say anything. The prospect of a long life of spinsterhood is the only thing that’s keeping me going; believe me.”

  Raul picked up the serape. “I really didn’t mean to upset you. I’m sorry if I did. Why don’t you try to get some sleep? We still have a long ride ahead of us.”

  “Don’t worry about me,” the girl said. “I’ll be ready for tomorrow.”

  Raul went back to his sleeping place and settled down again. Angel woke up and looked over at him. “Que paso, patron?”

  Raul sighed. “I’m afraid the bitterness of Señorita Slattery has finally come to the surface. But perhaps she will get over it.”

  Angel shook his head. “No. She will never forget the torment she suffered. She is going to be a man-hater, that one. And there is something else that might happen. She may kill herself. I know of two girls who did that very thing in Las Chivas. The shame was too much to bear.”


  “It is all so very sad and tragic.”

  “For you especially, patron. You love her.”

  Raul spoke angrily. “Go back to sleep, Angel!”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Raul sat in the saddle, watching as Loretta and Angel slowly caught up with him. As they continued past, he sadly noted the girl made no effort to look his way. Perhaps Angel was right. Loretta’s terrible experiences were now gnawing at her emotions and would plunge her into a turmoil of bitterness that would last through the rest of her life.

  Raul road rearward to back-track their trail. He reached a rise and stopped to survey the view. Miles away, just on the horizon, his alert eye caught a dancing haze. It hung there, barely discernible, sometimes fading away in the dancing heat, but always returning as a faint smudge. He identified it as dust that was not stirred up by the wind.

  The terrain was soft and there was absolutely no way he and Angel could completely eliminate their tracks. If they were being pursued it wouldn’t be by the trafficker’s men out of Mazatlan. The city-bred criminals weren’t expert enough in such outdoor skills as tracking to have followed them this far. Perhaps it was some of the Rurales the old man Jose had spoken about. At this point it would serve no purpose to alarm Loretta Slattery or get Angel excited about the prospect of another gunfight.

  He pushed Borrasca into an easy gallop and caught up with his companions. “How is everybody doing?” he asked in both English and Spanish.

  Loretta didn’t answer, but Angel nodded agreeably. “Fine, patron. Are we going to stop for a midday meal now?”

  “I do not think so,” Raul said, still uneasy about the distant dust cloud. “Unless you are really hungry,” he added.

  “Not me, patron. But maybe the señorita?”

  “Are you hungry, Miss Slattery?”

  She gave him a quick glance, then urged her horse into a faster walk as an answer.

  “It looks like we shall keep riding,” Raul remarked to Angel.

  ~*~

  The afternoon passed fitfully for Raul. The dust cloud in the rear had been steadily gaining ground, and he had noticed another smaller one becoming evident to the west. Finally he rode up to Angel and the girl.