“And five of you couldn’t manage that,” Rucker said. “Where the hell was the rest of you, while your pard was bein’ gunned down?”
“We was in a cantina,” said Swenson. “We took turns, one at a time. There wasn’t no room for five of us on the lower deck, anyhow.”
“I got an idea,” Rinks said, “if the rest of you will shut up so’s I can talk.”
“Talk, then,” said Rucker. “These other three ain’t told me a damn thing.”
“There’s a chance,” Rinks said, “that them señoritas that was took off the ship might lead us to that pair of gun-throwers. One of them gals we brought in was more Spanish than Mex, an’ her daddy owns a big house in San Ignacio. You reckon they ain’t took her back to her daddy?”
“There’s a chance,” said Rucker, “and we got nothin’ better. Let’s ride.”
Leaving San Ignacio, there was no conversation. Wes and El Lobo led out and, keeping within the mountains, rode south. Only when they stopped to rest the horses—almost an hour later—was there any conversation. For the sake of the two women, Wes felt an explanation was necessary.
“The Sandlin gang is pretty well all over Mexico,” Wes said, “but we know they’re comin’ together in Durango for a manhunt. What we don’t know is whether they’ll move to north or south.”
“There had long been talk of these outlaws,” said Tamara, speaking of them for the first time. “They have always been feared because their leaders are part of the very soul of Mexico’s government. Unlike the old days, when Santa Anna’s dictatorship was strong, the military is no longer in favor. Corrupt politicos have stolen the offices of government, and they answer only to the thieves and murderers who put them there. If one is to destroy a serpent, the head must be severed, and the head of this outlaw serpent is in Mexico City.”
“Por Dios,” said El Lobo in admiration.
“You would ignore the individual outlaw strongholds, then, and ride straight to headquarters in Mexico City,” Wes said.
“I would,” said Tamara, “if I were serious about destroying the Sandlin gang.”
“I reckon the Sandlin gang’s takin’ us serious enough,” Wes said, irritated. “We wiped out two of their outposts to the last man, and they’re gatherin’ right now in Durango to begin a manhunt lookin’ for us.”
“Wes,” said Renita, “You and Palo have done so much, it ... it’s a miracle. You rescued me, and then you rescued Tamara. What bothers me, and I think what bothers Tamara, is that these outlaws are gathering—perhaps by the hundreds—to come looking for you. So far, you have been the attackers, and the outlaws have been on the run. Now that’s about to change. I’ll be with you to the end, but there are hundreds of them, and so few of us.”
“These are my feelings, also,” Tamara said, her eyes on Renita. “When these outlaws come after us with guns, we can kill only a few of them before they ride us down, while the evil men who rule the country are safe in Mexico City. Destroy these leaders, and the hundreds who gather in Durango will flee like frightened coyotes.”
“Sí,” El Logo agreed, his dark eyes aflame.
“By God,” said Wes, “you’re talkin’ sense.”
“These thoughts are not my own,” Tamara said. “I listened to my paternal grandfather, who spoke out against the outlaws. But he was old, and he died last year.”
“Por Dios,” said El Lobo, “what happen to the Señor Hernando Delmano?”
“The Senor Hernando Delmano is a coward,” Tamara said. “He took all my grandfather fought for, and he has done nothing.”
“That’s not entirely true,” said Wes. “He told the newspaper in Mazatlán you’d been taken by outlaws. Otherwise, Palo and me never would have known.”
“Sí,” El Lobo agreed.
“I do not know why he bothered,” said Tamara. “You heard him greet me as a puta, a whore. Five men carried me away to a whorehouse, where I was stripped and violated. I fought, and I still bear the stripes where I was beaten, while in my father’s eyes I am unclean. Damn him and his unbending pride. I welcome you, Wes Stone, and you, Palo Elfego, and I applaud your vows of vengeance. You must not fail. I swear, upon the memory of my grandfather, that I will ride with you to the end, even if it be death.”
“That’s how I feel,” Renita said, “but you said it so much better than I did.”
“I’m not always right,” said Wes, “and I have to admit I’ve been a mite unsure about how we should handle that bunch of outlaws gatherin’ in Durango. I reckon we owe your grandfather for some sound advice. We’ll have to make some plans, but we can’t do that until we know what we’re up against in Mexico City. I’d say, from those clouds buildin’ up in the west, that we’re in for some heavy rain. If we ride the rest of the day and most of tonight, it should conceal our trail. Tamara, how far are we from Mexico City?”
“From Mazatlán,” Tamara said, “it is almost six hundred miles.”
“Then let’s ride,” said Wes. “Startin’ right now, we’ll totally change our tactics. We’ll keep them from knowing where we are. When we strike again, we’ll do it with enough force to bring down some of the big coyotes.”
There was approval in the eyes of Renita and El Lobo, while Tamara actually laughed. She, with her black hair and dark eyes, was a beautiful girl. El Lobo would be a lucky man if he was still alive when the shooting was done.
Chapter 10
San Ignacio, Mexico. July 28, 1884
Before Denton Rucker and his riders reached San Ignacio, the storm broke, drenching the landscape for almost two hours.
“There goes our chance of picking up a trail,” Rucker observed sourly.
“Yeah,” Said Swenson, “but we still might learn whether or not them hombres has been here. Hernando Delmano lives here, and he don’t know for certain who it was that made off with his serñorita. We can always tell him we’re a posse of upstandin’ citizens that’s lookin’ for the varmints.”
It was just nervy and audacious enough to strike them as funny, and some of the men slapped their thighs with their sodden hats.
“I reckon it’s worth a try,” Rucker conceded. “We’ll let you handle it, Swenson, since it was you and your bunch that allowed the women to be taken from the ship.”
“That’s far enough,” said Delmano, when the riders were within speaking distance. “What do you want?”
“We heard your daughter was took by outlaws,” Swenson said, as seriously as he was able, “an’ we’re lookin’ for the varmints that done it. Can you tell us anything that might be a help?”
“I have nothing to say,” said Delmano. “Now go.”
“We just aim to help, if we can,” Rucker said.
“I don’t want your help,” said Delmano. “You are trespassing.”
“By God, why don’t you call the law?” one of the outlaws said angrily.
Rucker wheeled his horse and rode away, the others following. Not until they were well away from the Delmano house did they rein up.
“Well,” Rucker demanded, “anybody else got any bright ideas?”
“Maybe Watts is right,” said Swenson. “If this pair we’re huntin’ is already this far south, why would they suddenly turn around and ride north?”
“Hell,” Rucker growled, “I don’t know.”
“They got one woman from the whorehouse, and one of the two they freed from the ship,” said Bailey. “Maybe that’s what they was after.”
“Oh, for God’s sake,” Rucker said, disgusted, “use your head. Would you fight your way to Mazatlán, riskin’ your neck for a pair of whores? Even if that was true, they had no cause to wipe out our outposts at Namiquipa and Chihuahua. There’s somethin’ just a hell of a lot more serious behind these attacks.”
“Since we ain’t found a trace of them whores,” said Mannon, “I’d say we’re lookin’ for four riders instead of two. That bein’ the case, they had to find two more horses somewhere. Maybe we could ask around and—”
“Learn e
xactly nothing,” Rucker finished. “Everybody will be just as closemouthed as old Delmano was. For all we know, he may have given them the horses they needed. We’ve been beaten at every turn by this nervy pair of hellions, and we’ve done nothing about it. They’ve captured the imagination of the Mexicans, and unless we can change that, we’re finished.”
“That’s damn scary,” Swenson said. “We goin’ to ride back to Durango an’ admit we come up dry?”
“No,” said Rucker. “I don’t know about the rest of you, but I like Mexico, with its ready money and freedom from the law. We got to find that pair of troublesome bastards and salt ’em down before they do any more damage. We’re ridin’ south, and I think we’ll follow the shoreline. At least as far as Tepic, keepin’ an eye on the telegraph line.”
“We’ll remain in the mountains as far south as we can,” Wes said. “It should be far easier to keep an eye on our back trail and to find a place to hole up at night. We’ll have to be careful of our cook fires, or eliminate them altogether. Tamara, how far should we follow the coast before turning inland toward Mexico City?”
“I am not sure,” said Tamara. “I know at some point there is a trade route—a wagon road—that crosses the mountains. It leads from the ocean to Mexico City.”
“Another reason to ride this mountain range,” Wes said. “Let’s just hope this trail has been used enough that we don’t miss it.”
Empty generally ranged on ahead, but their third day on the trail, he fell behind.
“The perro know something we do not,” said El Lobo.
“I think you’re right,” Wes said. “The rest of you keep goin’. I’ll be riding our backtrail for a while.”
Wes dropped back and found Empty waiting for him. The hound trotted back the way they had come for several miles. Then he veered down the mountainside toward the distant blue water of the Pacific. At first Wes saw nothing, for the foothills below were densely wooded. Finally he fixed his eyes on a clearing and waited. Eventually his patience was rewarded when the first horsemen appeared. He watched as they emerged from the trees, counting them as they crossed the clearing. Empty sat beside him.
“Bueno, amigo,” he said, ruffling the hound’s ears. “That’s all we need to know.”
Wes caught up to El Lobo, Tamara, and Renita as they were resting their horses.
“They come?” El Lobo asked.
“Twenty-one of them,” said Wes. “They’re ridin’ along the coast, likely following the telegraph line. We’ve spoiled the varmints. They think if they follow the wire far enough, they’ll find us. I reckon we’ll have to find another way of lettin’ ’em know we’re around.”
El Lobo laughed. “Si. When it be dark, we stampede their horses.”
“Damn right,” Wes said. “All the way back to Mazatlán.”
“It is a wise move,” said Tamara approvingly. “It will do much to discredit them.”
“I’m so glad we don’t have to fight,” Renita said. “I don’t even have a gun.”
“I have another,” said Tamara. “It was my grandfather’s, and you are welcome to use it if you wish.”
Tamara and Renita had much in common, and Wes watched as they slowly but surely became friends. Of all the clothing Tamara likely possessed, she had brought only what was suitable on horseback. She had an extra pair of riding boots, and generously gave them to Renita, along with clothing more suited to the saddle. While the fit was still a bit large, it was better for Renita than riding barefoot in an ill-fitting long dress from a whorehouse. They rode until almost sundown before unsaddling their horses. Supper was a hurried affair.
“There’ll be a moon tonight,” Wes said, “and we have to get ahead of it. Tamara, you and Renita will remain here. We’ll need Empty with us.”
“I feel useless,” said Renita, “like I should be doing something.”
“That is much the way I feel,” Tamara said.
“Both of you will get your chance,” said Wes. “But for now, there’s no two hombres anywhere in Mexico better at spookin’ horses than El Lobo and me. Eh, Wolf?”
“Sí,” El Lobo agreed. “It will be long walk to Mazatlán.”
Wes and El Lobo rode out an hour before moonrise. Empty seemed to know exactly what had been planned, for he led them unerringly to within a mile of the outlaw camp. Confident with their number, the men had made no effort to conceal their fire, and on a bed of glowing coals sat two large coffeepots. The horses had been picketed to the north of the camp.
“Perfect,” said Wes softly. “We won’t be stampeding the horses through the camp, so they won’t have a chance to catch any of them. First we’ll cut them loose.”
Swiftly, silently, they moved among the horses, touching an occasional flank to calm the animals. When all were loose, they returned to their own horses. They were almost in position, between the outlaw camp and the horses, when several of the loose animals began to nicker.
“Hey,” an outlaw shouted, “there’s trouble with the horses!”
But the alarm came too late. Wes and El Lobo kicked their mounts into a fast gallop, and shouting, they charged. The loosed horses galloped away to the north. Although they had no targets, the frustrated outlaws had begun firing, and the fusillade further spooked the stampeding horses.
“Damn it,” Swenson complained, “we should of posted a guard. Rucker, you ain’t no great shakes as segundo.”
“There’s twenty-one of us,” said Rinks. “Who’d ever have thought they’d have the nerve to slip in this close?”
“It’s the only sensible thing they could have done,” Rucker conceded. “We’re a bunch of damn fools for not expecting it. They couldn’t be any more rid of us if we were dead.”
“Now what, Mr. Segundo?” Swenson asked.
“We begin hoofing it back the way we come,” said Rucker shortly, “and you’d better all be hopin’ we catch up to them horses before they drift back to Mazatlán or Durango. If word of this gets out, Mexicans will be throwing rocks at us.”
Wes and El Lobo drove the horses north for more than an hour.
“That’s near forty miles,” Wes said, “and they’ll drift back to their home corrals on their own. That bunch will find it slow going, afoot and totin’ their saddles.”
“Si,” said El Lobo. “This be more comico than shooting them.”
“I think so,” Wes agreed, “and more effective. These varmints have prospered here in Mexico because everybody’s been afraid of them. Now they’re being made to look like fools by just two hombres.”
It was very late when Wes and El Lobo returned to their own camp.
“Wes and El Lobo comin’ in,” said Wes softly.
Only then did Tamara and Renita arise from cover, and in the moonlight Wes noted that Tamara had her revolver cocked and ready. She eased the weapon off cock, returning it to the holster.
“You were gone so long, we were starting to worry,” Renita said.
“It took a while,” said Wes. “We ran their horses at least forty miles north. They’ll drift the rest of the way to their home corrals long before the Sandlin bunch can catch up to them.”
“It is a satisfying victory,” Tamara said.
“Yeah,” said Wes. “It’ll play hell with their reputation when word of it gets around. I wonder if I shouldn’t spread it a little faster by sending another telegram.”
“It’s a temptation,” Renita said, “but that will just warn the others. The next time you go to stampede the horses, they’ll be waiting for you with guns.”
“Por Dios,” said El Lobo, “that be right. The telegraph must not talk.”
Tamara laughed. “You are wise warriors. These men who are afoot have been shamed. If they do not speak of this, it is a thing you may do again and again.”
Toluca, Mexico. July 28, 1884
Headquarters for the Sandlin gang had quietly been moved from Mexico City to the village of Toluca, several miles south. Here, in a board room within an elegant mansion, a doz
en men met to pursue the gang’s involvement in drug running, white slavery, rustling, prostitution, and other nefarious activities. About to call the meeting to order, Cord Sandlin looked upon the twelve hard-eyed men who had become known as Sandlin’s Disciples. There was Jarvis, Canton, Tafolla, Zouka, Sumar, Knado, Handley, Wittrus, Moke, and Undilay. All were Americans, wanted for various crimes. Finally there were Hidalgo and Ximinez, both holding influential positions within the Mexican government.
“I had hoped this meeting would not be necessary,” Sandlin said. “It has to do with the troublesome pair who apparently destroyed our outposts at Namiquipa and Chihuahua.”
“We authorized payment of ten thousand dollars in rewards,” said Jarvis, and sent Black Bill Trevino to Durango to oversee the manhunt. What more can we do?”
“I’m not quite sure,” Sandlin replied. “That’s the purpose of this meeting. I have some disturbing news from Mazatlán. Two men showed up at Madam Izona’s, slugged her, and took an American girl. That same day, after dark, these two boarded a ship preparing to sail for California. They shot and killed one of our men and escaped with two women who had been secured on a lower deck. One of them went over the side and disappeared.”
“So two men made off with three whores, and one of them disappeared,” Canton said. “Who’s gonna connect that to us, and how can it be proved?”
“The damn newspapers,” said Sandlin. “The hombre that was gunned down on the ship was searched before our outfit could get to him, and one of our dragon’s-head coins was found in his pocket. Not only have we been linked to prostitution and slave trading, we’ve again been humiliated by just two men. People no longer fear us. Instead, they laugh, and if it continues, we’re finished.”
The Border Empire Page 15