Pistolero Justice (A Piccadilly Publishing Western

by Patrick E. Andrews

  The defiant one hesitated, then quietly relented, fishing around in his leather vest. He pulled a key and fumbled with the lock on the door. Raul glared at him, as he pulled the simple portal open.

  “Miss Slattery?” Raul asked as loudly as he dared.

  “Mr. Mackenzie?” Her voice was trembling.

  “Yes. Come on out.” He waited until the girl emerged, the spoke to the guards. “You two drop your gunbelts. And pull off your sombreros and serapes, pronto!” He was disappointed once again to see that no long guns would be available. He shoved the pair into the room. “One yelp and I will empty this pistol through the door. And I am going to stand here for a good long time to make sure you behave yourselves. If you do not, be assured that I will be waiting to shoot you.”

  He locked the door and extinguished the lantern that was sitting on a nearby bench. After motioning Loretta to remain still, he stood quietly by the door. Three or four minutes passed and he could hear movement inside. “I told you two bastardos not to make any sound. I am going to stay here for a long time. There are horses coming for the girl and me.”

  Raul handed the sombreros and serapes to Loretta. “Take these with you.” Then he took her hand and they tip-toed into the darkness. Her grip was tight and desperate.

  Loretta looked around, asking, “Where are the horses?”

  “There are none,” he admitted. “I said that to keep them quiet. They’ll be waiting for the sound of hooves. I figured that would hold them long enough for us to get some distance from here.”

  “Don’t you have a plan?”

  “I’m afraid not,” Raul admitted. “I don’t really know the layout of the camp, so, we’re going to have to rely on luck to make it out of here. But one thing is for sure. We can’t keep skulking around in the dark without getting caught. That’s why I had our two friends drop these sombreros and serapes. Maybe not perfect disguises, but if we stick to the shadows as much as possible we’ll stand a better chance to scout around. We need horses.”

  “I’m even more scared now than back in Selva Vista,” Loretta said. “But where is Angel?”

  “We’ve lost him,” Raul said. “A bandit bullet did my poor friend in.”

  “Oh, my God!” Loretta exclaimed. “All for me.” She sighed sadly. “I’m not worth it.”

  “Yes you are,” he countered. “And Angel willingly gave his life for you.”

  “I feel so unworthy.”

  “Miss Slattery — “

  She interrupted. “Call me Loretta. It seems silly to be so formal while we’re going through all this.”

  “And I’m Raul.”

  “Rah-ool,” she said, carefully pronouncing the name. “I’ll never forget your kindness to me, no matter what.”

  “Just keep that blonde hair tucked up tight under your hat.” He put his arm around her shoulder and pulled her tightly to hm. She stiffened, but he didn’t relax his hold. “It’s obvious you’re female, even wearing those britches. It’ll look better if you seem to be my woman.”

  Loretta nodded. “I understand, Raul. I’m sorry.”

  “That’s all right,” he said. “Let’s go. Just walk slowly and keep your head down. We need to find a horses somewhere in this hodgepodge.”

  As they put on a show of casually ambling through the camp, drunken shouts of greetings or invitations to drinks were directed at them. But Raul only waved good- natured refusals.

  “Raul! Listen!”

  He stopped and concentrated on the sounds around them. A few seconds passed before he heard loud snorting nearby. The couple tried not to hurry as they made their way toward the sound. They approached a corral as the heavy odor of numerous horses wafted through the night air.

  “There they are!” Raul said.

  “What do we do now?”

  “I’m not going to take time to find Borrasca. Let’s walk to the far side of the fence and slip under. Can you handle yourself without a saddle?”

  “That’s how I learned to ride,” Loretta replied.

  “Good. We’ll get a couple with bridles and try to ease them out. If things start happening, I’ll let out a yell and you must quickly mount. Then ride toward the trail that leads off the mesa. Do you know where that is?”

  Loretta pointed. “Yes. That way. I remembered this area when we first came in.”

  They walked around one side of the corral toward the darkness. Suddenly there was a shout. “Ya se van por un buen tiempo?”

  “What was that?” Loretta asked startled.

  “Never mind,” Raul replied, not wanting to tell her the person was referring to them going into the darkness for sex. “It’s just someone trying to be funny.”

  Once in the dark the couple slipped into the corral and after a few minutes of moving through the shifting, milling horses they located two animals wearing Indian rope bridles. Raul indicated his approval of the choices and they carefully led the mounts to the corral gate. He had just slipped off the top rail when the air exploded with wild yelling and shots.

  “Oh, Raul!” Loretta exclaimed in a voice edged in despair. “They’ve seen us!”

  Raul flipped her one of the pistols. “Ride!”

  They jumped on the horses’ backs and dug in their heels. The people nearby took up the alarm as the two charged through the crowd. Raul knew there would be guards posted at the entrance to the downhill trail, and he galloped ahead of Loretta to clear the way if possible.

  Carbine fire flashed to the front and the bullets whisked by in the heavy night air. Suddenly Raul’s horse screamed and crashed to the earth. He saw the ground coming up, and rolled over to one shoulder. The move eased the force of the fall and he used the momentum to gain his feet. He turned toward the carbines and returned fire. “Loretta! Ride through!”

  But her horse was rearing and bucking around the dead one. Loretta clung to the surging animal’s back as best she could, but finally slid off, barely able to avoid the kicking hooves. Raul ran forward and took her arm, leading her as they scrambled up to the heavy boulders nearby. Their pursuers had now figured out the situation, and began advancing toward them. When Raul and Loretta were situated in the natural cover, he returned fire until the attacking crowd drew back.

  The area was suddenly silent. Loretta, holding her pistol, raised up to take a quick look. “What’s happened? Why have they quit shooting?”

  “They know better than to hit either of us,” Raul said. “I imagine they’re going to wait for Demonio to show up.”

  The futility of the situation dawned on the girl, and she fully realized the predicament they were in. She screamed, “No! No! No!”, firing rapidly until emptying the pistol. Then she threw it at her tormentors.

  “Oh, God, Loretta!” Raul said. “I’m sorry.”

  She began sobbing and turned toward him, embracing him hard as the tears began to flow down her cheeks. “I will not go back! Raul, you must save me from those horrible people!”

  Raul held her close, loving and cherishing her so much he thought his heart would break.

  She looked at him with pleading eyes. “Don’t let them take me, Raul. Please! For the love of God, please!”

  He wiped her tears, then kissed her softly. He knew there was absolutely nothing he could do now.

  “Hey, Raul Mackenzie!” It was El Demonio’s voice. “I want to talk to you, amigo.”

  “Seguro — sure. Come on up.”

  “I will just walk out a little ways,” El Demonio said. He waved as he stepped out of the darkness into the bright moonlight. “Oye, you are one big troublemaker, Raul Mackenzie. You killed Chango.”

  “How many does that make so far?” Raul asked.

  “I have not been counting,” El Demonio replied. “But I am nearing the end of my patience.”

  “Me too,” Raul said. With three bullets left, he stood up and took careful aim. He fired deliberately, and El Demonio staggered back under the impact of the round that crashed into his body.

  Raul looked at Lore
tta. “Turn away,” he said. She numbly complied, knowing what was coming. He raised his pistol and pointed at the base of her skull just inches away.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Raul collapsed under the impact of the bandit who had dived on top of him from the rocks above. His pistol clattered across the boulders and discharged harmlessly. Raul tried to roll out from under the man but was hit hard across the back of his neck with the barrel of a revolver.

  Loretta screamed her frustration and anger as she leaped on the attacker. By that time Raul had staggered to his feet; but before he could react, a half dozen bandits swarmed over the natural fort and knocked him to the ground in a collective vicious assault.

  Raul and the weeping Loretta were dragged down to where El Demonio was now sitting up. The bandit chief was holding his bleeding shoulder. His face displayed the hatred and furious anger he felt for Raul. “It is all over now, Mackenzie! I do not care about the agreement between me and Rancho San Andres. You are going to pay dearly for this.”

  Raul, held by three of El Demonio’s men, kicked out at him. “Hijo de la chingada!” he yelled so loudly that the drunks on the other side of the mesa could hear him.

  The bandit who had jumped him joined the group. “He was going to shoot the huera, jefe. He had his pistol ready to fire into the back of her head when I landed on him.”

  El Demonio swung his good arm, backhanding Raul’s face. “Damn you to hell, Mackenzie! You have cost me too much. Too much!” He hit Raul again repeatedly until he tired of punching him. The bandit chief motioned to his nearby men. “Get my horse from the corral and saddle him. Then tie Mackenzie’s hands together. I am going to take him through the camp.”

  It took fifteen minutes for a couple of the bandits to return with their chief’s horse. Raul was still dizzy from the punches as his hands were bound in front of him. El Demonio was helped into his saddle, and handed his lariat by one of his men. Raul was then attached to the rope before being jerked forward. He was surprised that El Demonio was riding slow enough for him to keep to his feet.

  As Raul was led through the camp, people would run up and hit or kick him. Some spit and shouted insults as he was taken through an impromptu gauntlet. The jeering crowd delighted in the prisoner’s predicament. The punches to his head were hard and jarring, and Raul began to stagger under the blows.

  The pummeling finally took its toll, and Raul collapsed unconscious as El Demonio continued pulling him across the mesa, now dragging his limp body.

  Buzzing insects seemed to have taken residence inside his skull as Raul shook his head. The sound diminished slowly and he wondered if Chango could hear them. Then he remembered Chango was dead…that he and Loretta had tried to escape…that he had been pulled behind a horse…

  The sun was bright as his eyes opened. There was no feeling in Raul’s hands, and he tied to clinch and unclench his numb fists to get circulation back into them. Although the effort did little good, the concentration it required brought his senses into clearer focus.

  He was tied to a stake.

  A careful glance around revealed he was in front of the large structure that was El Demonio’s home. Raul could hear someone approaching. He looked up as one of the bandits walked up to him.

  The man slapped his face and laughed. “We never hit the staked ones any harder than that,” the bandit said. “It would be too merciful.”

  “Tu madre — your mother,” Raul said, uttering the insult.

  “La tuya — yours,” the bandit replied, still laughing. He turned and walked over to El Demonio’s door and entered.

  Raul turned away to look out over the camp, and was slapped again. Not hard, but it was irritating. Another bandit stood there. Raul spit at him.

  “Hey!” the man yelled, jumping back. Then he laughed. “After a long while without water, you will not even be able to do that.”

  A quarter of an hour later the first man left El Demonio’s quarters and delivered another slap to Raul’s face as he walked by. Then the hideous reality of the situation dawned on the captive. He was staked out at that location for one purpose. Anyone entering or leaving El Demonio’s house could slap him. It was like the notorious Chinese torture where small drops of water were dripped slowly over the victim’s head. At first it would seem easily bearable, but as time went by each drop would keep adding pressure to the whole until they would seem like the blows of a club.

  Soon the visitors were passing by regularly.

  Slap!

  Raul growled, “Your sister sleeps with coyotes.”

  Slap!

  “Son of a bitch!”

  Slap!

  The small amount of food and water he had allowed in the shack now became a blessing of sorts. Raul had begun to feel the effects of dehydration, but that also meant he had no pressing needs to urinate; and the skimpy diet meant that would keep his bowels under control.

  Slap!

  He could feel his face growing numb.

  Slap!

  “Hey, valoroso, untie me and let’s see who can hit harder, eh?”

  Slap!

  ~*~

  It was cooler now in the late afternoon and Raul could no longer see out of his left eye. He could imagine what his face looked like on that side.

  Slap!

  He wondered about Loretta many times during the day. She was probably back in the room where he’d found her the previous night. At least he didn’t have to worry about her being tormented. Damaged goods would not be appreciated by the whoremongers in Selva Vista.

  Slap!

  His mind mulled over his decision to kill her. Was it really out of sympathy and love for her? Obviously she loathed the idea of returning to forced prostitution. Hadn’t she willingly obeyed him and turned away so he could shoot her in the back of the head? He grimaced as he thought of what the bullet would have done to her beautiful face upon exiting out the front of her skull.

  Slap!

  ~*~

  The sun was dropping rapidly now. The shadows were lengthened to their maximum just before dark. Dios Santo! He was thirsty. Food held no attraction, but the thought of cool fresh water was worse than anything he was enduring.

  Slap!

  ~*~

  Time meant nothing to him, and he was surprised when the sun came up behind him. His left ear was swollen and he could barely hear out of it.

  Slap!

  ~*~

  Raul was barely aware of the sun’s heat as he was shaken awake. He opened his good eye and looked into the face of Gonzales one of El Demonio’s close associates.

  “Hijo la! You look terrible!” Gonzales said.

  Raul tried to spit, but couldn’t get up enough saliva. “What is the matter? Can you not find another tied-up man to torment?”

  Gonzales laughed. “Speak with respect to your albogado, eh?”

  “My lawyer? What kind of stupid joke is this?” Raul asked. Then he noticed his hands were being untied.

  “You are going to plead in the Sala de Jefes — the Hall of Chiefs. I am representing you.”

  Raul stepped away from the stake, noticing a second man guarding him. “I am not playing any games with you scum. If you are going to kill me, I will show you how to die with dignity.”

  “Just show some patience, Mackenzie, and I will explain the facts of the matter to you.”

  “Give me a drink,” Raul demanded as he noticed the canteen slung over Gonzales’ shoulder.

  “Sure. Take all you want, but listen. This is important to you. The Sala de Jefes is our court. You, like a lot of outsiders, do not realize that we have our own society up here that is as complicated as your own. Demonio wanted to kill you right away but we members of the Sala insisted you be given a hearing. I sponsored the motion myself.”

  “May I ask why?”

  “Sure! You killed Chango.”

  “I understand,” Raul said. “Then you must be the next lucky fellow who gets Chapina.”

  “Exactamente! I am so grateful I though
t I would give you a chance for survival. No matter how slim.”

  “Gracias,” Raul said caustically. “I wonder how long it is going to be before you bandidos realize that Chapina is bad luck.”

  Gonzales laughed loudly. “But what a way to die!” Then he quickly became more serious. “Now we must get you to the Sala and try to save your life.”

  Raul had known enough not to drink too much from the canteen. In his condition, his body would have been unable to absorb much liquid, and he would have vomited it up in painful retchings of his stomach. He handed the container back after some quick, shallow swallows. “So where is this building in which I am to suffer the justice of your bandit gang?”

  “It is not really inside a building, Mackenzie. It is in the back of Demonio’s house. Come on. Everybody is waiting.”

  Raul walked painfully slow, but neither Gonzales nor the guard made any attempts to push him along. As they went around the side of the house, Raul was able to discern a large crowd of murmuring people. When he and his escort came into view there was a sudden silence.

  Raul stopped and surveyed the scene.

  It appeared that a majority of the bandit band was present. They were seated on the ground as well as barrels, boxes, a few chairs and benches. One side of the square was nearly empty except for a long table. Behind this sat seven men; obviously the jefes who would hear his plea.

  El Demonio was seated in front of them, his left arm in a sling. The bandit chief looked at Raul. “Pray to God and thank him for the mercy shown you by people you think are the scum of the earth.”

  Raul ignored him, taking a quick look around for Loretta, but the girl was nowhere to be seen. Raul figured it would be better that way.

  Gonzales, his face stern, walked ahead of Raul, motioning him to follow. They stopped in front of the table. “We are here.”

  A paunchy bandit stood up and signaled for quiet. “La Sala is now in session. What is the business before it and who speaks?”

  El Demonio stood up so the crowd could hear his words. “I am El Demonio, Chief of La Gente de la Mesa. I demand the death of this prisoner named Raul Mackenzie-Mendoza.”