Wolves At Our Door

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Wolves At Our Door Page 17

by J P S Brown


  "He has the horse so hot, he’ll founder him, Abdullah," Kane said. "He hasn’t been cooled down and watered."

  "We have nothing to do with the horse anymore," Abdullah said.

  "Auda’s care is out of our hands. You own the horse now, Jim. Didn’t you bet your horse against don Nesib’s horse and money?"

  "Of course," Lupino said. "That was our bet: my horse and one hundred thousand dollars against your horse. Pay the man his winnings, Abdullah." Abdullah pulled a fat envelope out of an inside pocket of his vest and handed it to Kane.

  Kane took the envelope and looked inside at a sheaf of one-thousand-dollar bills.

  "Where did you get thousand-dollar bills, Nesib? I thought the American Treasury Department recalled these bills years ago."

  "Nevertheless, they’re real and must be honored as legal tender, do they not?" Lupino said.

  "I think they’ve been out of circulation for at least ten years." Kane laughed. "You’ve been hoarding this money all that time? How many more have you got like this?"

  "If you don’t want them, give them back and I'll pay your winnings in hundred-dollar bills."

  "No, these are fine. As far as l know, my bank has to honor them."

  "If it doesn’t, bring them back. I'll honor them. And you can take charge of Auda any time you want to now," Lupino said.

  "Then, with your permission/’ Kane said, "I’ll go get my horse."

  "I’ll help, if you wish," Abdullah said.

  "Do you want me to come with you?" Vogel asked.

  "llo need," Kane said. "I have enough colmillo to take charge of the horse." As he walked toward Rafa and Auda, he caught Marco Antonio’s eye and motioned for him to stand by.

  Rafa made Auda dance up the track toward Kane. A group of townsmen from Rio Alamos had hired a band of mariachis to accompany them. As the mariachis played, the townsmen strolled toward Rafa with grins on their faces to show him how much they enjoyed kissing his ass. Rivulets of sweat ran down Auda’s legs and washed over his hooves. Blood ran from his flanks and bloody froth from his mouth. Kane drew his colmillo and stepped out in front of the horse. Rafa gave Auda his head and spurred him to run Kane down, but did not give him rein enough to let him go. Kane grabbed both reins under the horse’s neck, sliced them in two just behind the bridle, and turned everything loose.

  With the sudden release of Rafa’s grip on his mouth, Auda shook his head with relief and spun back toward Gato and the Mayo horses and stood Rafa on his head on the racetrack. He sat up and looked at the loose reins in his hands.

  Auda stopped when he reached Marco Antonio, Cody Joe, and the Mayos. Cody Joe took hold of Auda’s headstall and helped Marco Antonio catch him in the loop of his reata.

  The townsmen surrounded Rafa as he stood up and looked around for the horse. Kane asked the Mayo horsemen to escort Gato and Auda and the boys to La Escondida. He told the boys to walk home slow and cool the stallions down before they watered them and put them away. He told them to be sure the stallions did not fight and to stay with them until he and Vogel arrived. Both horses might be in danger now. Kane watched his grandson dismount and hand Negrito’s reins to Marco Antonio. Placido mounted Negrito and helped Marco Antonio lead the racehorses away from the press of people afoot. Another half dozen horsemen joined the escort. Kane wondered why Cody Joe wanted to stay behind.

  "Meestair . . . Meestair Sonumubeech." Rafa had found his voice. Don Nesib and Abdullah were gone. Juan Vogel joined Kane.

  "Are you ready to go, compadre?" Vogel asked.

  "Whenever you are, compadre," Kane said.

  "Meestair Sonumabeech," Rafa shouted again. Kane walked toward him. All the color drained out of Rafa’s face. He skipped behind one of the townsmen and made a threatening move, as though to kick Kane from thirty feet away. Two townsmen grabbed his shoulders to hold him back. He wanted that, but Kane was about to get close enough to break open the stitches on his sore nose. He made a last lunge at Kane and broke away from his handlers, but this time turned away to leave Kane behind and ran into Cody Joe. The boy was only trying to reach his Pappy’s side. Rafa thrust out his arms with all his weight behind them, caught Cody Joe in the chest, and shoved him aside. Cody Joe kept his feet, dropped his chin between his shoulders, and measured the range to his target. He landed a straight right hand to Rafa's ribs that made him arch his back, then stepped in and landed a right hook that split open the stitches on his nose and straightened his back. A left hook on the side of the nose sent Rafa’s head toward the ground, then a right shovel hook lifted him over on his back, spread-eagled on the ground. Kane decided that the hook to the nose had been the best of the combination. Rafa would wake up tomorrow and find that his septum no longer separated his nostrils on the end of his nose, but lay all in a lump inside one nostril.

  Cody Joe stood over Rafa and waited for him to get up. Rafa rolled dazedly over to his hands and knees, let his head hang, and watched the blood pour from his nose. Kane wrapped his arms around his grandson from behind and turned him away. "He’s done, Grandson," he said. "Let’s go."

  Vogel stepped up to watch Kane's back and to hold back Rafa’s townsmen friends, but they were no threat. They had scattered backward and been struck dumb when they saw the boy step up and land his machinelike combination of blows on their hero.

  "If you’re Rafa’s friends, take him away from here, before he brings more hurt on himself," Vogel said and to the townsmen. "I mean it. He should not be out here drunk. Take him away and help him get sober."

  Musicians and townsmen turned and walked away. Only one of Rafa’s friends stayed. He helped Rafa to a sitting position and pressed a clean handkerchief to his nose. Vogel stayed to make sure Rafa was helped off the ground.

  "That boy hit me from behind," Rafa said through his bloody lips.

  "I didn’t expect the blow."

  "What do you mean, Rafa? You looked him right in the eye and pushed him before he hit you," Vogel said. "You insulted his grandfather and almost ran over him with the horse. You still want to make something of it? Don’t act stupid anymore. Get up from there and go home and take care of yourself."

  "For you, I’ll go, Juan," Rafa said. "You’re my father’s friend. But that boy hit me with brass knuckles, or a pipe, or something that made me bleed like this. I’m not even sure he didn’t have a knife. Under Mexican law he spilled my blood and he will have to go to jail for it." He looked away at Kane and Cody Joe and called to them. "Yes, Meestair Gringo, you will rue the day you spilled Lupino blood. You can’t do that in my Mexico and get away with it."

  ”Get him out of here before I unleash both my gringos on him," Vogel said to Rafa’s friend.

  Kane saw that Marco Antonio and Placido and their Mayo escort were riding back toward him on the racetrack. More than a hundred people from the grandstand and the alameda had stayed to watch Rafa’s spectacle. He saw Alicia and the girls had been watching from the grandstand. Kane caught Alicia’s eye over all that distance and motioned for her to take the girls and go. She gathered them up, walked off the bleachers, and headed away to their car. Dolly Ann turned a wan, worried face back to look at her brother once. Cody Joe walked out and met Marco Antonio’s cavalcade and swung up on Gato’s bare back. Marco Antonio stopped long enough to see for himself that Kane and Vogel were not in trouble, then turned his mule and led the escort back toward La Escondida.

  Kane and Vogel boarded their pickup and drove up the alameda toward Rio Alamos. Rafa's shouts followed them all the way to town. Kane looked back and saw that he stood alone on the darkening track like a scarecrow that had finally chased all the blackbirds away.

  "How did that one get all the poison, cowardice, and foolishness of his family?" Kane asked. "He’s all dopehead and braggart. He can’t have exclusive ownership over everything that’s bad in that family, can he? I would think that Ibrahim, Jacobo, and Ali would have some of it, but if they do, they don’t show it. He never shows that he’s anything but an evil fool. Never has."


  "Some people just have it all." Vogel laughed. "He’s got all of what you say and money too."

  "I don’t understand how he could have every trait that other men dislike and be absolutely unable to hide any of it."

  "Speaking of having it all, you have money now. How does that feel, compadre? How does it feel to come away this day with all the money in Rio Alamos?"

  "Not only me. We, you and I, came away with all the money. We go fifty-fifty as always. I told you that at the start."

  "Let’s see how much of the fifty thousand dollars the bartenders were able to bet. Alicia and the Montenegro brothers bet all of the forty thousand we brought to the track. They were given odds on a lot of it too."

  "That is wonderful. Where is it?"

  "Alicia took it home."

  The partners drove around to the cantinas and picked up their winnings. The reputation of the Lupino horses was so great that the bartenders had only failed to bet 3,000 of the $50,000 the partners laid down. That night at Vogel’s house they counted out $210,000 in cash winnings and an Arab stud worth another $50,000. They figured that was not bad for livestock that usually never made money unless it rained a lot and the market got hot.

  Kane and Vogel drove out to La Escondida to see what they could do for Marco Antonio’s and Cody Joe’s diversion. When they arrived, Vogel handed each of them a fat bonus of Mexican currency that he said he wanted them to spend that evening in celebration.

  Before he turned them loose to have some fun, Kane asked Cody Joe a question.

  "Grandson, just as you rode up to the finish line the last time for your lap and tap start, I saw you pull up and stop Gato. In other words, you ran him at the line, but you didn’t let him go, you pulled up. Why did you do that? That gave Auda a four-length lead at the start. If he had been a little faster, you would not have caught him."

  "I know what you mean, Pappy, but I had to pull up at the starting line, or my nino would have called us back again. Auda’s rider kept holding back, lagging back at the start, so that Nino Juan couldn’t start us. So I thought to outsmart him. I held Gato at the line and let Auda run by me and Nino had to shout ’Santiago’ and let us go."

  "You mean he outsmarted you, Godson," Juan Vogel said. "The reason he kept hanging back and making me call you back was because he wanted you to get impatient and stop your horse and wait for him. That way he got a running start and left you standing still. That's called jockeying for position. He out-jockeyed you, but in the end he couldn’t outrun you. You had the most horse."

  "Now do you understand what happened?" Kane asked.

  "I got hoodwinked, didn’t I?"

  "That’s all right. Gato made up for it."

  "Lupino’s jockey cheated."

  "No, he didn’t cheat, son. He did his job and out-jockeyed you."

  "What could I have done to beat him at the start, then? He kept hanging back."

  “When you rode away from the starting line and then turned together to make your run at the line, you should have held Gato neck and neck with Auda until you crossed the line. That way you would have outrun him by ten lengths instead of four."

  "Boy, I sure am I dumb."

  "No, you’re not, son. I should have coached you on how to jockey at the start. We all had too much on our minds and didn’t get a chance to talk during the training. To tell the truth, I never worried about it either. We had a whole lot better horse. He would have won that race if they’d shot him anyplace but through the heart."

  "Well, it worries me about myself."

  "Don’t worry. You won. Now you and Marco Antonio go and have fun. Your nino and I will look after the animals."

  As the boys drove away in Vicenta’s pickup, Miguel came down and invited the partners for brandy and supper at Vicenta’s table. Ursulo and a dozen Mayos stayed with the horses and celebrated.

  Vicenta spread a million pesos in cash out on the kitchen counter for them to see. She had taken five hundred thousand pesos to the Molino Rojo and the two other bawdy houses in the zone of tolerance for her friends to bet on Gato.

  After the partners congratulated her, Vicenta said, "Listen, when I heard everybody’s high opinion of Lupino’s horse, I got scared that I'd made a bad bet."

  "You mean people praised Lupino’s horse that much to you?" Vogel asked.

  "Absolutely. Lupino’s horses are famous in Mexico and yours are not," Vicenta said. ’Ask Rafa."

  "Yes, he knows famous stuff," Kane said. "However, anybody who knows horses could look at Auda and Gato and tell who would win."

  "Válgame. Who is talking about people who know horses?" Vicenta said. "I’m talking about people who spend everything they own in the whorehouses. Those are the ones most susceptible to big talk from people like Rafa Lupino. He had all the whores convinced that Auda would win. My friends all tried to talk me out of betting on Gato. Auda is known as the best stallion in Mexico, isn’t he?"

  "He might be known to have the finest mane and tail hair and the prettiest little feet," Kane said. "But he’s not known as a quarter-mile racer."

  After supper, the partners sat on Vicenta’s front porch, listened to the music from the celebration in Chihuahuita, and drank brandy with Vicenta. Gato and Auda were in adjoining stalls. Even though they were two young studs, they got along so well that after they ate their grain and hay, they slept nose to nose.

  Kane and Vogel were discussing what to do with Auda when they saw a truck careen off the highway and race down the ditchbank toward them. When it stopped in Vicenta’s yard, they saw that it was a Montenegro truck. Adancito Martinillo, Martinillo’s oldest son, left the motor running, stepped into the lights of the truck, and walked to the house.

  "Godfather, is Jim with you?" he called when he recognized Vogel. "Yes, Adancito, what is it?"

  "You both better come with me."

  "What is it, son?"

  "Marco Antonio, Cody Joe, and my brother Memin have been shot."

  ELEVEN

  Kane and Vogel hurried to Sanatorio Lourdes, a small hospital run by Catholic nuns in Rio Alamos. Placido met them on the street in front of the hospital. He had been with the boys when they were shot. He told the partners that Marco Antonio and his uncle Memin were gravely wounded. He knew nothing about Cody Joe’s injuries. The partners went inside. Traffic policemen stood guard on both ends of the corridor where Memin and the boys were being treated. Two were posted at each of the four entrances of the hospital. The partners found Chief Cepeda in the front office. Kane asked him how the shooting happened.

  "The boys were with Marco Antonio’s uncle Memin and the Montenegro brothers celebrating in El Retiro restaurant near the racetrack," the chief said. He took off his barracks hat and wiped his brow with a clean handkerchief. "I had assigned a patrol car for their protection, because I was afraid this might happen."

  "What did happen?" Vogel asked.

  "The boys sent beer out to the patrol car, but thank God the officers sent it back. Then they sent them sodas and a plate of grilled marrow gut and tortillas, and they accepted that."

  "Nothing wrong with that, Gerardo, but what happened?"

  "You know El Retiro is a drive-in and a lot of families had come to park outside to drink beer and eat meat. There were so many that the Montenegros and Martinillos went inside and sat at a table by a door. The band Los Ciegos, three blind brothers, played music for them while they ate and drank."

  "For God’s sake, tell us what happened, Gerardo," Kane said.

  "My officers in the patrol car watched a carload of men cruise around the restaurant twice, stop in front of the open door by the boys, and pour automatic fire into the restaurant. At the same time, the shooters fired on our patrol car and caused my men to fall out onto the ground to save themselves. Before they could recover, the shooters raced away. My men pursued them, but never saw them again. They gave me a description of the car and its occupants, but could not identify any of the individuals. Their description fits members of the bor
der gang that calls itself Los Lobos. They have been seen in Rio Alamos a lot these past weeks.

  "We have other evidence that the shooters were members of the Lobos gangsters," Chief Cepeda continued. "They left the same unusual signature at El Retiro that they have at border shootings. They rub garlic on their bullets to make them more deadly. Have you heard of this practice?"

  "I never heard of such a thing," Vogel said.

  "I have," Kane said. "American gangsters in the nineteen twenties and thirties did that to make their bullets poisonous. Are you telling us that the bullets that hit our kids had been rubbed in garlic? How do you know?"

  "Their empty cartridge cases smell of garlic."

  "Lord almighty," Kane said.

  "Another thing, Jim. Probably it’s completely unrelated, but right after the race yesterday, we found an American by the highway with both arms crippled. We arrested him because we think he hid in that thicket across from the racetrack to shoot your horse. Someone caught him there, maimed him, and left him for dead. He had a sniper’s rifle with him that bears his fingerprints, although someone had certainly incapacitated him as a sniper."

  "Imagine that," Kane said. "Someone did us a big favor, didn’t he? How was he incapacitated?"

  "Someone almost cut off both his arms. We might not be able to jail this man for attempting to shoot your horse, but we will put him in prison for possession of a loaded rifle near a crowd. It’s against the law to carry a firearm in Mexico any place, any time."

  Marco Antonio and his uncle Memin lay close to death. Cody Joe had been hit by two bullets. One nicked the side of his neck and his chin and another drilled the calf of his leg. The partners went in to see him. The doctor in attendance was Vogel’s brother Oscar, an experienced surgeon who had been educated in Tucson. Oscar was one of the few doctors in the region who had been educated in the United States, and he was all too aware of the lack of medical facilities in Rio Alamos. He told Kane and Vogel that he hoped that Cody joe, Memin, and Marco Antonio would recover enough to be flown to Tucson for better treatment. A bullet had exposed Cody Joe’s jugular vein and missed killing him by a fraction of an inch. His calf would heal quickly, but the danger of infection would be extreme. After he gave the partners this brief account, Oscar hurried away to his duties.

 

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