“Now, you will take thirty pesos, or you will get nothing.”
“I . . . I have changed my mind,” Pena said. “I will get nothing.” He turned to leave, but at a nod from Keno, a couple of his men reached out to grab him.
“You don’t understand, señor,” Keno said with an evil smile. “You will get thirty pesos, or you will get nothing. But either way, you will give me the information.”
“I have made a mistake,” Pena said. “I thought I had some information but now I know that I was wrong. I will leave now.”
The two men who had reached out to grab Pena were still holding him, and Keno pulled his pistol.
“I think you will give us the information, Pena,” Keno said as he began pushing all the shells from the cylinder of his revolver. When every shell was out, he put one back in, spun the cylinder, then pointed it at Pena.
“Where are the americanos who are looking for me?”
“I don’t know,” Pena answered. “I told you, I have made a mistake.”
Keno pulled the trigger, and the hammer fell on an empty chamber. Pena shook in convulsive fear.
“Well, it would appear that Jesus is with you,” Keno said in a mocking voice. “Perhaps Jesus does not mind if you betray Jensen for thirty pesos.”
“Please, señor, I made a mistake. I know nothing.”
Keno pulled the trigger, and again the hammer fell on an empty chamber. Again, Pena jerked spasmodically.
“Where are the gringos?”
“Please, señor, I have made a mistake.”
Keno pulled the trigger two more times, and at the second pull, Pena wet himself.
“Now there is one bullet and two chambers,” Keno said. “Shall I pull the trigger again?”
“Cruillas! They are in Cruillas!” Pena shouted.
“Thank you,” Keno said. “You may go now.”
“The thirty pesos?”
Keno chuckled a low, throaty, and contemptuous laugh.
“But, señor, when I offered the thirty pesos, you did not sell the information to me. I had to find another way to get the information, and that way cost me nothing.”
“Please, Coronel.”
“Carlos, blindfold him, and take him back to where you found him.”
“Sí, Coronel.”
“Chavez. Get your men together. Tomorrow, you will go to Cruillas, and you will kill Jensen.”
“Sí, señor.”
Pena heard the orders being given as the blindfold was put back on. Then he mounted and, as before, his horse was led while he sat in the saddle, holding on to the saddle horn.
Pena felt angry and betrayed. He had provided Keno with information before, and Keno had paid for it. He had never paid very much money, but Pena had never given him information as valuable as that which he had provided today.
Pena had not been providing the information just for the money. He truly believed that someday, soon, Keno would actually mount a revolution against the Mexican government, and appoint himself as the new president. When that happened, Keno would need many officials, men that he could trust.
It had been Pena’s intention to be one of those trusted officials, perhaps even governor of Tamaulipas. That all seemed very unlikely now. He was lucky to have gotten away from that encounter without being killed.
As he rode back to town, Pena got another thought.
If he couldn’t sell information to Keno, perhaps he could sell information to Jensen.
A broad smile spread across his face. Yes, that is exactly what he would do. He would not only make some money, it would also provide him with the satisfaction of getting back at Keno for the way Keno had treated him.
It was early evening when Pena rode back into town, and the rich and spicy aromas of many dinners being prepared greeted him. He had not eaten since this morning and his stomach rumbled with hunger. He knew that Jensen and the men, and the one woman who was with him, often took their meals at the café of Mama Maria, so he decided to go there. Perhaps, as he ate his supper, he would see Jensen, then negotiate with him.
He was sure that he would get more than thirty pesos.
Pena had been correct in thinking that Smoke Jensen would be taking his supper at Mama Maria’s. Smoke and the others were gathered around one of the four tables when Pena stepped into the restaurant.
“Señor Pena,” Mama Maria said, greeting him. “Will Señorita Gabriela be with you tonight?”
“No.” He pointed to the table of Americans. “Do any of the Americanos speak Spanish?”
“No.”
“I must talk to them. I have something important to tell Señor Jensen.”
“Leticia Delgado speaks English. She is next door.”
Pena nodded his thanks, then stepped next door to a shop that sold notions to women. Leticia looked up when he came in, and smiled.
“You have come to buy something for Gabriela?”
“No, I have come to borrow your power of speech. I have some information for the Americanos. I wish you to speak for me.”
Smoke saw Leticia Delgado coming toward their table, accompanied by a man. He stood.
“No, señor, remain seated,” Leticia said with a wave of her hand. “This is Señor Pena. He has something to tell you, but he does not speak English, so I must speak for him.”
“Gracias, señorita. Señor Pena, you have information?”
The word “information” was close enough to the Spanish información, that Pena understood the question.
“Sí. I have come to warn you that, tomorrow, Coronel Keno will come to town with many men to kill you.”
Pena spoke the words in Spanish, and they were immediately translated by Leticia.
“How many men?”
“Veinte años, tal vez más.”
“Twenty, maybe more,” Leticia said.
Pena spoke again, and it was clear that Leticia didn’t quite understand what he was saying, so she had him repeat it. Then she turned to Smoke.
“Señor Pena says they will have a gun that is special because it can shoot many bullets, very fast.”
“He must be talkin’ about a Gatling gun,” Pearlie said. He shook his head. “It was said that they had one when they shot up San Vicente. I wouldn’t be worrying about that. They have to pull those things around on caissons, like a canon.”
Old Mo laughed. “Do you know what Crazy Horse said when he was shown a cannon? He asked, ‘How do you get someone to stand in front of the gun?’”
Pearlie laughed as well. “Yeah, that’s my point. Any gun mounted on wheels isn’t going to be worth much if they are trying to shoot people who are moving around. And I expect we’ll be moving around.”
“Ask Pena this,” Smoke said. “Does Keno actually plan to come into town with that gun and all those men?”
Leticia asked the question, but that question was followed by an exchange between the two of them. Smoke didn’t know what they were taking about, but whatever it was, Leticia had become, visibly, irritated with him.
“Señorita Delgado, what is it? What is wrong?”
“He says that he will not give you any more information unless you pay him.”
“I see,” Smoke said. He stared harshly at Pena. “So, the safety of your friends and neighbors means nothing to you? If I don’t pay you, you are perfectly all right with them shooting up the town? You don’t care if the villagers get killed or wounded?”
Leticia translated Smoke’s question to Pena. The expression on Pena’s face didn’t change.
“Cuánto va a pagar?” he asked.
“How much will you pay?” Leticia translated.
“Fifty pesos, if he answers my question. Is he actually planning to come into town with that gun and that many people?”
Leticia translated the offer, and the question.
“Sí,” Pena replied, then he held out his hand for the money.
“Señor Jensen,” Leticia said, speaking quietly, and in English. “You must be careful with thi
s one. It is said that he sometimes gives information to Keno.”
“I don’t doubt it,” Smoke replied. “I’m sure that’s how Keno learned that we are here in the first place. Don’t tell him that we suspect him.”
“No, señor, I will not tell him.”
“Gracias,” Smoke said as he put fifty pesos in Pena’s outstretched hand. He was actually thanking Leticia, but Pena accepted it, as if it had been for him.
Chapter Thirty-one
“What are we going to do, Smoke?” Sally asked after Pena left with the fifty pesos. “We can’t let Keno and that many men in town. If we do, I’m afraid many innocent people will be hurt.”
“You’re right. That’s why we aren’t going to fight them here. We’re going to bushwhack them as they are coming in.”
“Bushwhack?” Old Mo asked.
Smoke smiled. “That is what they called Missourians, like me, who fought with irregular forces. We were effective against greatly superior forces, because we learned the art of bushwhacking. We are going to set up an ambuscade.”
Cal laughed. “Yeah!” he said. “I always regretted that I was too young to be a bushwhacker.”
The next morning Smoke lay on the top of a flat rock, looking west toward the Sierra Veinte Casas mountains. They were at Snake Head Canyon, which was a place where the trail narrowed down to no more than one hundred fifty feet from side to side. This caused a choke point and there was no way Keno and his men could avoid it, if they intended to come to Cruillas.
Smoke had chosen this point as the best place to establish his ambush, and now he had everyone in place. Sally was fifty feet to his right. Pearlie and Cal were on the other side of the canyon, and all four had their signaling mirror with them.
Old Mo was with Smoke.
Pearlie was the first to see Keno’s men approaching, and he flashed the notice. The other three flashed that they had received his signal, then Pearlie began telling the others how many were coming. Morse code for numbers was much easier than the code for letters, as it was a simple matter of regression, and progression. The number one was one dot and four dashes, number two was two dots and three dashes, increasing the number of dots and reducing the number of dashes until the number five with was five dots. Then the procedure started in reverse, reducing the number of dots and increasing the number of dashes. He signaled that twenty-one men were coming.
Shortly after Pearlie’s signal, Sally flashed that she had seen them as well.
Smoke signaled that everyone should wait until he gave the signal to fire. They had already discussed that when Smoke fired the first shot, that would be the signal for everyone else to shoot as well. The only problem was that, from this distance, it wasn’t possible to pick out a specific target. There was a chance that they might all choose the same target. It wouldn’t really make that much difference, once the shooting began.
Behind Smoke, Old Mo was chewing on the root of a grass stem. He had the bow lying across his lap, and there were at least ten arrows, to which were attached sticks of dynamite. Each stick of dynamite had several nails glued to it.
“You see ’em, yet?” Old Mo asked.
“No, I haven’t seen them yet, but both Pearlie and Sally have. I expect they’re about a mile the other side of the bend in the canyon now. Once they come around the bend, we’ll be able to see them as well.”
Smoke could hear them before he could see them. It was impossible for that many horses to move over such ground without making a great deal of noise. And, soon after he heard the sound of eighty-four footfalls, he began hearing conversation, sometimes followed by laughter but often issued in a way that was harsh and guttural, as if they were cursing.
Smoke smiled. This was, in no way, a disciplined army.
The “army,” such as it was, appeared around the bend, and Smoke waited until all twenty-one of the men were committed.
“Mo,” he said. “Get an arrow in your bow. As soon as I light the fuse, I want you to put it behind the last men in the column. That should cause them to run forward, and that’s what we want. We don’t want them disappearing back around the bend where we can’t get to them.”
“All right,” Old Mo said. He picked up an arrow, notched it, then held it for Smoke. Smoke struck a match and held the flame under the fuse. The fuse began sputtering, and spewing out sparks.
“Now!” Smoke said.
Old Mo lifted the bow so that it was at about a forty-five-degree angle, pulled the string back, and let it go. Smoke followed the smoking arrow as it made a huge arc from the top of the cliff, then starting down behind the last two horsemen in the column.
Just before the arrow struck the ground, Smoke saw a flash of light, then a billowing cloud of black smoke. There was a mighty blast that filled the canyon with a thunderous roar.
Smoke had picked out a target with his Sharps, and he pulled the trigger almost concurrent with the dynamite blast. His man went down and, almost immediately, he heard the shots of Sally, Pearlie, and Cal. Two more men went down, and Smoke was certain it was because two of the shooters had chosen the same target.
The riders started forward at a gallop, but Old Mo, without having to be told, put another explosive arrow in front of them. Now the riders didn’t know what to do, and they began milling around. Smoke was looking for the Gatling gun but didn’t see a caisson.
At an order from their leader, the men below dismounted, and they hurried to one side of the canyon, then found rocks to shield them. The position they had taken had gotten them out of the line of fire for Pearlie and Cal, because they were right at the base of the wall where the two men were.
They were still in the line of fire for Sally and Smoke, so they continued to shoot, firing as rapidly as they could eject one cartridge and load another. Now, though, the targets weren’t as readily available to them, so while the shooting was effectively keeping Keno’s men down, the number of hits they were scoring was reduced.
Suddenly, from one of the positions behind the rock, there was a stream of rapid fire, as if from a Gatling gun. Smoke was surprised; he hadn’t seen the gun being transported, and he realized that they must be using some other kind of gun.
Whatever they were using, it was effective, because bullets were buzzing like bees as they whipped by overhead. The rapid-firing gun had also emboldened the others so that they too were firing.
Although none of the bullets being fired toward them found their mark, the shooting was effective enough to keep Smoke and Sally from being able to improve their position. Also their shooting, limited to a single round which had to be reloaded after each time the rifle was fired, meant that they were getting no more than four shots per minute, compared to more than a hundred rounds being directed toward them.
Old Mo fired two more dynamite arrows toward them, but one of the charges detonated on the ground in front of the rocks, and the other against the cliff wall behind the men. Neither effort was effective, and rather than waste more arrows or sticks of dynamite, Smoke told him to stop.
“Sally?” Smoke called. “Get back to that rise behind us, and signal for Pearlie and Cal to withdraw. Tell them to meet us at the point.”
“All right,” Sally said.
“Give Mo your rifle. Mo, get where you can take a few shots. We may as well keep up as much pressure on them as we can.”
Sally, who was now far enough back from the edge of the wall to be out of danger, gave her rifle to Old Mo, who, on his belly, moved up to the edge of the wall.
As Smoke and Old Mo continued to keep up the shooting, Sally flashed a signal to Pearlie and Cal. She sent the word NEW, which meant that Pearlie and Cal would have to take down the dots and dashes, then refer to their chart to decipher the message. That was exactly what she had to do to send the message.
WITHDRAW FROM YOUR POSITION. MEET US AT THE POINT.
She waited for a minute after sending the last word, then she got the signal back, UNDERSTOOD.
Coming down from the rise, she m
oved back to where Smoke and Old Mo were keeping up the shooting.
Smoke saw one of the men raise up from behind the line of rocks to see if he could pick out a target. That was a fatal mistake, because Smoke dropped him with a head shot.
“Damn, that’s three you got, and I only got one!” Old Mo complained.
“Smoke, I sent the message and they signaled back that the got it,” Sally said.
“All right. I say that we get out of here now,” Smoke replied.
Their horses were tied just below the crest on the other side, well out of danger, and Smoke, Sally, and Old Mo backed away from the edge of the wall, then, when they were out of sight from anyone on the canyon floor, they were able to walk upright, and quickly, back to their horses.
Behind them, Keno’s men continued to keep up a steady volume of fire. But now the shooting was in frustration as much as it was anything else, for there were no longer any targets available to them.
Fifteen minutes later they were at the point, which was the east end of Snake Head Canyon. Pearlie and Cal had gotten there ahead of them, and were waiting for them.
“What do we do now?” Pearlie asked.
“Let’s go back to Cruillas and wait for a while. We’ll give Keno a little more time to think about what is happening.”
Keno’s encampment
“Nine men?” Keno said, shouting the words in anger. “You took a platoon of twenty men to do battle with only five men, and you lose half of your force? No, I am mistaken. It isn’t five men, it is four men and one woman. How many of them did you kill?”
“I do not think we killed any, Coronel,” Chavez said.
“Fifteen men the gringo has killed. Fifteen!” he shouted. “We have not killed Jensen, and we have not killed anyone who is with him.”
Terror of the Mountain Man Page 23