The Devil's Staircase

by Randy D. Smith

  "Did you hear the shooting?" Cole yelled as he reined in his horse.

  "No, we have heard nothing. Is the senora…."

  "She’s dead. All of them are dead except Black Jack."

  Torres hung his head. "Who killed her?"

  "Black Jack said it was her husband."

  "Don Francisco? Madre de Dios! What about Sonia? Donde?"

  "I guess she wasn’t there. I don’t know where she is. There was a gunfight. Valverde shot the senora and she put a bullet in his mouth for his trouble. Black Jack was shot up pretty bad and I went after him. The only man left standing when the smoke cleared was Rafael. Black Jack sent me here to get you two out before Rafael found you. There was no money and he’s sure that jasper will come after you for it. Jack’s alone in the canyon. I doubt we’ll see him again."

  "But there is no money. Only a few articles of her clothing."

  "Are you sure?"

  Paco held up her black cloak and waved to the surroundings. "This is all there is. There is nothing else of hers."

  Tad considered his options. He studied the canyon. "Then get the hell out of here. Go back to Santa Fe. I’m going to go back for Black Jack. This thing is over for you fellows and there is no reason for you to go up there."

  "But the senora’s body. I must see to her burial. And what of the Capitan?"

  "Old man, if you go up that canyon you will never make it back. You’re too old and too slow. That damn kid will be worse than useless. If I can, I’ll see to the woman’s burial. You have my word on it. But for now, just get the hell out of here and make the best of it. I know it’s a shitty deal but if you want to live, you’ll ride out of here and never come back."

  The old man nodded and shrugged his shoulders. "Si, I will go. I must think of the boy. I will wait in Santa Fe for you. I will be at the Indian pueblo."

  Tad nodded. "Tell the boy to give me those fancy pistols. I gave mine to Jack and I’m going to need them. I need some reloads as well. I’ll want one of them mules for Jack to ride if I find him."

  Earnesto complied, giving Tad extra powder, ball and caps. Paco turned over the reins of the best riding mule.

  "I wish you the best," Paco said as Tad gathered the supplies and mule. "I hope you are able to save the Capitan."

  "Farewell, old man. I wish you the best as well. Go. Don’t take a chance on Rafael finding you in Santa Fe. He won’t believe you about the money and he’ll torture you and the boy for sure until he’s convinced you don’t have it. Then it won’t matter much. Save yourselves."

  He turned his horse and galloped back for the canyon.

  The old man waited for several moments then turned to Earnesto. "We must go. Get on your mule and ride hard. It is over for us."

  "But the senora…" Earnesto protested.

  Paco held her cloak closely to his breast. "I have this. I will remember her always. She gave it to me and has told me what to do with it. There is a letter sewn inside it for you and me. She knew what might happen and did what she could for us. I will not dishonor her by doing otherwise."

  They mounted and rode hard for Santa Fe.

  Chapter 18

  Jack waited for over an hour before deciding that Rafael was too smart to send someone back for him. He walked for another hour and heard shooting below late in the day. He was exhausted and could not push himself any harder. He collapsed into a deep sleep along the riverbank. He was stiff and sore the following morning and had to force himself to his feet. Only his hatred and thirst for revenge drove him on.

  It was midmorning when he found Tad Cole’s body. His horse had been shot out from under him and he had taken several rounds before dying. His guns were gone but his shooting bag and powder were still present. "I’m going to need your shirt and hat, my friend. I wish you hadn’t rode back up here after me. You’d be safe and on your way to Santa Fe if you had done what I told you." He examined his wound before slipping on Cole’s bloody shirt. The wound had sealed a bit but it was till leaking. He was going to have to cauterize it. With Cole dead and Rafael probably chasing an old man and boy on horseback for the gold, there was little more he could do in his condition except try to survive. He started a fire and placed his knife blade in the flames. He went through Cole’s saddlebags and found some jerky to eat. When the blade seemed hot enough, he removed his bandage and examined the wound. It was a big hole, nearly the diameter of his thumb but he could close it if he could hold the blade long enough without passing out. He drew the smoking blade toward his shoulder and held his breath. He knew it would be agonizing and he would probably need to make several attempts before the wound was properly sealed.

  "Oh, hell, that is enough," a voice sounded from the rocks above. "Don’t even try that shit without some help." Patch Wilkes worked his way down the rocks, his carbine at the ready.

  Black Jack relaxed himself and allowed his knife hand to drop. "You son-of-a-bitch, I ought to cut your gizzard out for the trouble you’ve caused."

  "That’s a fact, Jacky. I’m too worthless to fart, a double-crossing bastard, and a sneak thief to boot. There, now that I’ve said it for you, we can both relax."

  "How the hell did you find me?"

  "Shit, Jack, it was plum easy. I been following your trail for a week and digging graves for the last day and a half."

  "You dug a grave?"

  Patch indicated that Jack was to drop his knife with the point of his carbine. Jack complied. He was just too tired to care.

  "For the woman. Even a scoundrel like me couldn’t leave her for buzzard bait. I buried Segundo too. I kind of liked that chili. The rest of them didn’t matter."

  "Where are your men?"

  Patch returned the blade to the fire. "What men? You and your amigos shot the shit out of em. All I had left to do was to follow along and see if I could lift the gold if the chance arose. But, I guess old Rafael’s got it, huh?"

  "I guess."

  "How much is there?"

  "She had a half a million pesos."

  "Half a million! Hell’s bells, Jacky. That’s a pile of dinero."

  "It’s all yours if you help me get Rafael."

  "I guess I’ll have to. If he’s got the gold that’s the only way." He lifted the blade from the fire and examined it. "I guess this is hot enough. You ready?"

  Ransom nodded.

  "The fellow in the fancy clothes. Was that Valverde?"

  "Yeah, I think she knew he might be behind the whole kidnapping."

  "So, where is the girl?"

  "Back in Mexico. It was all a set up."

  Patch placed his left hand behind Ransom’s shoulder and pressed the hot blade against the wound. The odor of burning flesh drifted through the air. Ransom gasped and fought to stay conscious.

  "Damn, Jack. You ought to yell. I’d be warbling like a jay bird." He drew the knife away and seemed satisfied that he had closed the wound.

  "Why’d you do it?" Jack groaned. "You owed me."

  "I owe you, that’s fair enough, but good Mexican gold being wasted on Sam Houston and his bureaucratic Texas pals, that’s too much for my delicate sensibilities. Besides I was drunk when I cut the bargain and you don’t back out on a deal with a gent like Tanto Corrello. I was locked in. If it makes any difference, I wished I hadn’t done it long before I did."

  "Then why are you helping me now?"

  "Because I like you, Jacky. Kind of brings a tear to your eye don’t it. I figure it’s just you and me now. You need me just a bad as I need you. There’s only four of them left and two are in pretty rough shape. The two of us can make this work. You get Rafael and I get the gold. How’s that for a bargain?"

  "And after Rafael is dead?" Jack glared into Patch’s eye.

  "Well, I guess we got two choices. We go along or we get along. As long as I get some of that gold, I’m willing to call the whole thing square. If’n you still got an itch to put me under, we can settle up after we’ve taken care of our other business. Besides, shit, we don’t know if eith
er one of us will be alive after its over."

  Ransom smiled and nodded. "Fair enough."

  "When they shot old Tad over there, his mule got away. I guess he was bringing it back to you. I rounded it up and it’s tied up in the rocks with my horse. When you think you can stand it, I’ll bring them down and we can go after Rafael. You’ll need Tad’s saddle."

  "Did they get Torres and the boy?"

  "I don’t know about that. Why would they care?"

  "I was just curious, that’s all."

  "All I know is that they rode on down this trail after they shot Tad. Where they are now is your guess as much as mine. I figured they’d make for Taos to the north, get supplied and head out with the gold. They know you’re alive and I’m a guessing old Rafael doesn’t particularly like the idea of you dogging him. I figure with that much gold he’ll try to get as far away from this country as possible."

  Patch bandaged the wound with some of Jack’s left over shirt in Tad’s saddlebag. Jack watched him turn away and start up the rocks for the mounts. The North pistols were within easy reach. He briefly considered shooting Patch in the back but decided against it. Until they had Rafael, he needed Patch. Once that was over he would settle up, but then, maybe Patch was right. Who knew if either one of them would be alive when it was over.

  Chapter 19

  They had Tad rocked under, the mule saddled and what was left of the supplies gathered by midday. They were back to the valley campsite within a couple of hours. There was no sign of Torres or the boy and the trail of all of them turned south toward Santa Fe.

  As they studied the tracks, Patch shook his head. "Well, I figured old Rafael would go the other way. He must figure he has a better chance out of here by heading south."

  "He has a lot less mountains to negotiate by going south," Ransom said hoping that Patch would not realize that Rafael was after Torres for the money.

  Patch nodded. "And Indians. Them Utes are plum hostile and maybe he don’t know those passes like I do."

  "Maybe."

  Patch was quiet for several moments. "There’s another reason for going south."

  Ransom’s hand opened to go for his pistol. "What’s that?"

  "It’s a straight shot to California. You can follow the El Camino Real into California and be on the sunny slopes in a couple of weeks. If they’re heading for California, it makes more sense to go through Santa Fe."

  Ransom relaxed and nodded. "Sure enough."

  "And if they can kill the old man and boy, there’s no one left to tell the tale. If’n he can do away with you then there’s no reason to go to California. For all he knows you’ll die up here. If you don’t show, he has it made. I guess Santa Fe makes more sense after all."

  "Then you think he could be after the old man just to keep things quiet?"

  Patch nodded. "It wouldn’t make no difference to me, but Rafael is a careful gent. He might just figure that dead mouths are closed mouths. With the old man and boy dead he can live a life of luxury with no worries."

  Ransom studied the tracks. "It looks like they are no more than a few hours ahead of us. If we rode hard we could probably catch them within the day."

  "Most likely with two wounded they had to rest up a bit. If we could find their camp in the night, we could ambush them in their beds." He shook his head. "I wish you hadn’t lost them Colts. I’d like the odds a lot better if we had those five shooters."

  "Hell, we fought Mexicans and Indians for years with nothing between us and perdition but one shot. You getting soft, Patch?"

  "I’m getting old…and lazy. I’d just as soon the whole bunch came down with a fever so I could just rob the bodies. I’m tired of the scrapes. All I want is a fat German woman, a rocking chair, a jug of whisky and a hacienda in the sun."

  Jack nodded and thought of Beth. He had all that and more with her. If only he hadn’t agreed to one more term of duty with Jack Hays. If only…he cleared his thoughts of the images of her death. The hatred for Rafael returned and he whipped up his mule. "Let’s ride. Daylight’s burning."

  * * * *

  Rafael and his men rode into Rancho Aberturo nestled among the cottonwoods along the Rio Grande River Canyon. The crude adobe cantina was a popular resting place for Mexicans and some whites making the journey between Santa Fe and Taos. The owner of the cantina was a rough sort named Angelo Rodriquez, a man who thought nothing of supplying whisky to the Utes or buying and selling plunder from robbers to enhance his profits. He stepped to the doorway and immediately recognized his old business associate, Rafael.

  "Con much gusto! It is good to see you again, Rafael," he waved as the men dismounted.

  "And you, Angelo. Have you seen an old man and a boy ride by?"

  "Si, they came through late yesterday. They did not stop but rode on to the south. Will you drink some mescal with me?"

  "Yes, I need to talk to you," Rafael said as he waved his men to follow him into the cantina.

  Angelo watched the men enter and noticed the condition of Garcia and Madron. "It looks like you have seen some trouble. I hope the Army is not following you."

  "Do not worry. There are no authorities after us. We settled our problem, except for the old man and boy." He paused. "And perhaps one other who may be following us." He threw the money belt on the bar. "I need at least two…three men if I can find them. Men who are willing to fight."

  Angelo studied the money belt and poured a mescal for each man. "Si, I know of such men. Three brothers, the Munyoz, are looking for such work. I have used them before. They will take orders and they have the courage to fight."

  "How soon can I get them?"

  "They live but a few miles from here. They farm when there is no other work."

  "Get them. Send a boy and tell them that I need all of them. The profits promise to be great."

  Rodriquez stepped to the window and called a boy from the field. "Go to the Munyoz. Tell them I have work for them immediately. Tell them to bring their guns and horses. Quickly, little one! I need them now."

  Turrubiates smiled and motioned for another mescal. "I know these men. They will do well. Are we going back for Diablo?"

  "No, I am leaving Garcia here. He is in no shape to go on. We will go on after the old man and boy. It will take Diablo several days to get here with no horse and Garcia will have time for his wound to heal. Garcia is to watch for him and kill him if he can. Otherwise, he should be rested enough to follow us. If we find the old man and get the money, we will return here. If Diablo has not shown by then, we will go after him. The money first, Diablo second."

  Turrubiates turned to Garcia. "Are you up to this? Can you kill this man?"

  Garcia nodded.

  "If there is money in it for me, I will help Garcia," Angelo said.

  "There will plenty of money for all," Rafael said.

  "Then this Diablo is a dead man, if he shows."

  "Good, very good. When the Munyoz arrive we will ride on. I knew I could count on you," Rafael said, quite pleased with the turn of events.

  * * * *

  Ransom and Patch reached Rancho Aberturo fours hours later. They held up their mounts while Ransom studied the layout. "I think Rafael was down there. These tracks turn toward the cantina but several horses left within the last hour."

  "You think he’s still there?"

  "No, but we need to check. I’ll swing around and come in from behind. You ride right up to the door. None of them know you and you can check things out."

  Patch nodded and rode slowly toward the cantina. Ransom waited then swung his mule into the cottonwoods, dismounted and worked his way toward the cantina.

  Angelo Rodriquez came to the door of the cantina as Patch stepped down from his horse. "Hola, amigo. Can I help you?"

  "I’m looking for some hot grub if there’s any available," Patch said as he walked toward him with a smile.

  "I have chilies, frijoles and some pork."

  "That’ll do," Patch smiled. "Especially if it’s
hot."

  Garcia sat in the corner as Patch sat at a table. A young woman brought him his food.

  "You have come far?" Angelo asked. "Do you want anything to drink?"

  Patch nodded. "I’ll take a shot of whatever liquor you have."

  "Mescal?"

  "Mescal will do. I’ve been riding for several days. I’m looking for some gents. They ride with a feller called Rafael."

  Rogriquez cut his eyes to Garcia. Garcia shook his head.

  "I may know this man. May I ask your business?"

  Patch took a bite of his food and shook his head. "I don’t mind. I hear he’s looking for riders. I’m needing some work."

  "It is uncommon for an Anglo to be willing to ride with a Mexican," Rodriquez said as he placed the mescal on the table.

  Patch drank the mescal in one swig and indicated a desire for more. "Hell, I ain’t particular. I’ve ridden with Mexes before. I hear tell that this Rafael is looking for men and I need the work."

  Again, Rodriquez looked to Garcia who shrugged his shoulders.

  Patch noticed the reaction and turned to Garcia. "You wouldn’t know where I can find this Rafael?"

  "So, sorry, senor. I am just a poor peon."

  Patch noticed the blood stains on Garcia’s pants. "You look like you been doing more than just farm work. What happened to your leg?"

  Garcia became quiet, uncertain how to answer.

  "We butchered the pig you are eating today," Rodriquez said. "He is resting."

  "Kinda careless with the knife, don’t you think?" Patch said.

  Rodriquez smiled as he poured another mescal. "Si, senor."

  "Well, anyway, you fellows don’t know where I can find this Rafael?"

  "I am afraid you just missed him. He and some friends left not an hour ago."

  "Oh, yeah, you know where he’s going?"

  "No, senor, I do not know."

  "Will he be back? Maybe I could wait on him?"

  Garcia rose from his table pointing a pistol at Patch. "I think you ask too many questions."