Mexico City. August 18, 1884
After two days of languishing in their cells with only bread and water, the captives were removed and taken to court. Magistrate Renaldo Gonzales wasted no time.
“Your names, señors.”
“I’m Wes Stone,” said Wes, “and this is Palo Elfego.”
“You stand accused of murdering Pablo and Shekeela Ortega,” Gonzales said. “How do you plead?”
“Not guilty,” said Wes.
“There is a witness who disagrees,” Gonzales said. “Pasquido?”
Pasquido, not looking at the prisoners, described the murder and identified Wes and El Lobo as the killers.
“He’s a damn liar,” Wes shouted. “We didn’t do it.”
“I do not believe you,” said Gonzales. “At sunrise, one week from today, the two of you will be executed by firing squad.”
“Old man,” Tamara said, “you are a fool. Cord Sandlin’s band of outlaws committed these murders. Do you fear them?”
“You Mejicanos are a bunch of cowards,” said Renita. “Why don’t you send us before the firing squad as well? Or do you fear being known as a woman killer?”
“Señor magistrate,” said one of the guards, “you did not sentence the señoritas. What are we to do with them?”
“An oversight,” Gonzales said angrily. “I sentence the insolent ones, for as long as they shall live, to the prison laundry.”
“Damn it,” said Wes to Renita and Tamara, “why didn’t you stay out of it? If you’d gone free, you might have been able to help El Lobo and me.”
“We still will help you,” Tamara vowed. “I do not give up. Ever.”
“Nor I,” said Renita.
It was their last opportunity to talk. Wes and El Lobo were placed in one wagon, and Tamara and Renita in another. They were then taken to the prison, a forbidding structure of stone in which the enemies of Santa Anna were once left to die. There were three levels. To the lower one—a dungeon—Wes and El Lobo were taken. On the second level was the kitchen, the laundry, and a sleeping room with bunks for a dozen guards. Quarters for the female prisoners—when there were any—were on the third level, with a barred door at the head of the stone stairs. Tamara and Renita were taken there and locked in a cell.
“We’re in one hell of a mess,” Renita said. “Now what do we do?”
“We find a way to escape,” said Tamara.
“These bars look awful strong,” Renita said. “If you have even a hint of a plan, I’d be interested in hearing it.”
“The guards are all men,” said Tamara. “Does that suggest anything to you?”
“Maybe,” Renita said, “but I wish there was another way, short of becoming a whore again.”
“There is no other way,” said Tamara, “for there is not enough time. Wes and Palo are to be put to death a week from today. If I must, for these few days, I will sell my body for Palo’s life. Will you not do as much for Wes?”
“You know I will,” Renita said. “What can I sell that hasn’t already been taken many times?”
“Well spoken,” said Tamara. “These two guards are young men. We will allow them to take us until they are no longer suspicious. Then we will kill them.”
“Kill them? How?”
From down the back of her shirt, attached to a leather thong, Tamara drew out a two-edged, wicked dagger.
“It won’t be easy concealing that when you’re naked,” Renita said.
“I will not remove my shirt,” said Tamara. “Few men seem interested in a whore’s upper body.”
“That will take care of one of them,” Renita said, “but I have no weapon.”
“The knife kills silently,” said Tamara. “When I have freed myself, I will then free you. But you must make him mount you so that his back is exposed, and you must somehow keep his attention. If he suspects anything, or if he hears me approaching, then all is lost. We will not have another chance.”
“Never fear,” Renita said. “I’ll give this one all I’ve got. If we can get our hands on their guns and the keys to this place, we can free Wes and Palo.”
In the gloom of the dungeon, Wes and El Lobo weren’t nearly as optimistic.
“The Mejicanos hate the Sandlin outlaws,” said El Lobo, “and we seek to destroy the Sandlin outlaws. Why we be in juzgado, amigo?”
Wes sighed. “I hate to admit it, but I might have miscalculated. As long as we were free, giving Sandlin’s bunch hell, the Mejicanos were all for us. Now the dragon’s still out there on the loose, and we’re sentenced to death.”
“Per’ap we escape,” El Lobo said. “We give Sandlin outlaws hell again, then Mejicanos be with us.”
“I’m all in favor of escaping,” said Wes, “but how? We could die here like rats in a hole, except that a week from now they aim to execute us.”
“I not believe Tamara allow that to happen,” El Lobo said. “She strong.”
“So is Renita,” said Wes, “but they’re locked up, too.”
“There be old Injun saying: One not be dead until one be dead,” El Lobo said.
“That old Injun was never locked in a dungeon and was likely a damn fool,” Wes replied.
“Do not speak ill of your amigo,” said El Lobo.
Chapter 15
The day after the sentencing of Wes and El Lobo, word of the trial reached relatives and friends of Pablo and Shekeela Ortega. Juan, the actual witness to the murders, wasted no time in creating the very backlash Wes had hoped for.
“Those who kill are free to kill again,” Juan said. “This execution must not be. Let us march on the casa of el presidente. Let us demand freedom for El Diablos Pistolas.”
The old man spoke with truth and conviction, and all those who owned or were able to borrow a mule began riding to outlying villages, crying for justice, for an end to the ruthless outlaw reign. On the third day they began gathering on the outskirts of town, many of them afoot, armed only with their anger and sense of injustice.
“Madre de Dios,” Hidalgo said. “What does this mean?”
“It means the witness you bought is about to earn his gold,” said Ximinez.
Tamara and Renita had no trouble seducing their guards, Ganos and Onate. Once the barred door at the head of the stone stairs was locked, nobody could gain entrance to the second level. When the guards brought their supper, Tamara and Renita wore only their shirts. Ganos looked at Tamara, raising his eyebrows.
“Modesto,” Tamara said.
Onate peered at Renita in the dim light of the cell. “Modesto?”
“Sí,” said Renita.
“Eat,” Ganos said. “We return.”
“That was easy,” said Renita, when the pair had gone. “They are so young, it’s almost a shame to kill them.”
“Fishing is always easy,” Tamara said, “when one uses the proper bait. Though they are young, they are our captors. Do not forget that.”
When the pair returned, they said nothing, for the message had been clear enough. Onate led Renita down the dimly lit cell block, leaving Tamara alone with Ganos. In less than half an hour; Tamara and Renita were alone in their cell and their guards had returned to their alcove at the head of the stairs.
“I feel terrible,” Renita said.
“Why?”
“Being forced into a whorehouse is one thing,” said Renita, “but choosing to perform as a whore is ... well ... different.”
“It is no different than killing another so that you may live,” Tamara said. “One does what one must do. My body has been used, but my soul is pure.”
“Tomorrow night, then?” said Renita.
“I think we will allow them to take us a second time,” Tamara said. “The third time, they die.”
The third day after Wes and El Lobo had been taken to prison, a delegation headed by Juan met with an aide of the magistrate, demanding an audience with Renaldo Gonzales..
“The Señor Gonzales is very busy,” the aide protested.
“S�
�,” said Juan. “We will wait.”
Their persistence paid off, and Gonzales was finally forced to meet with them. There was a grim look on his face when they departed, and he spoke harshly to his aide.
“Go to the statehouse and tell the Señor Hidalgo I will see him in my quarters and that he is to come immediately.”
Ximinez looked up as Hidalgo stumbled into his office.
“I have been summoned to the office of the magistrate,” Hidalgo said desperately. “Por Dios, what am I to do?”
“Then you must go,” said Ximinez pleasantly, “and I think you must take your bought witness with you.”
“But I do not know him or where to find him,” Hidalgo protested.
Ximinez shrugged, forcing Hidalgo to face the fury of Gonzales alone. It wasn’t long in coming, for the magistrate was waiting.
“You have made a fool of me and of this court,” Gonzales shouted, pounding the desk with his fist. “Where is this witness, this perro, who has perjured himself before me?”
“I ... I do not know,” said Hidalgo. “He came to me....”
“I will tell you where he is,” Gonzales roared. “He is in the cantina where you found him, and he has recanted his testimony. For leniency, he has admitted his perjury, for which he was paid. By you, Señor Hidalgo.”
“No,” said Hidalgo, sweating. “I only wished to see justice done.”
“Then you will understand why you are being taken into custody,” Gonzales said. “El presidente is demanding a hearing, and I would suggest you be prepared to defend yourself. Guards!”
The two guards who had been waiting in an inner office emerged, leading the speechless Hidalgo away. Gonzales immediately summoned his aide.
“Prepare the necessary orders freeing the Señors Stone and Elfego. I will see them in my office tomorrow.”
“What of their señoritas?”
“They will be freed also,” Gonzales said.
But Tamara and Renita were about to make their own bid for freedom. Ganos and Onate, becoming more confident, had switched partners. Ganos led Renita away, while Onate remained with Tamara. As usual, the affair was conducted in silence, and Renita did her best to capture the attention of Ganos. He might see Tamara from the comer of his eye as she entered the cell. Unbidden, Tamara stretched out on her back on one of the bunks, her hands behind her head. She waited for Onate, not daring to bring the knife into play until she was sure she could complete the deadly act. Slowly, imperceptibly, she drew the knife with her right hand. Then, with all her strength, she drove it into Onate’s back. He grunted only once, and his body relaxed. Tamara withdrew the knife and rolled him off on the floor. She then took his revolver and pistol belt, to which was attached a ring of keys. Quickly she dressed and, the still-bloody knife in her hand, crept stealthily down the cell block. Reaching the cell occupied by Ganos and Renita, knife poised to strike, Tamara dropped Onate’s gunbelt. Ganos tensed and tried to roll away from Renita, but she threw her arms around him until Tamara plunged the knife into his back. Renita released him and he fell to the floor on his back. For a sickening moment, as the life drained out of him, his eyes met hers.
“Oh, God,” Renita cried. “Oh, God, what have we done?”
“We have bought our freedom,” said Tamara. “Get dressed. We must go.”
Tamara removed the gunbelt from the dead Ganos and passed it to Renita. Removing the ring of keys, she buckled Onate’s gunbelt around her waist. Reaching the head of the stone stairs, Tamara tried different keys until one of them unlocked the barred door. Their footsteps echoed hollowly on the stone as they crept down to the first level. It was dark, for here were the administrative offices, the kitchen, and the laundry, mostly unused since the last days of Santa Anna. If there were other guards, they would be in the cell block below ground, where Wes and El Lobo had been taken. There were barred doors at the head of the stone stairs, and there was only the dim light from a single bracket lamp.
“Try the keys,” Tamara whispered. “I will have a gun ready should someone come.”
There were more than a dozen keys, and one by one, Renita tried them all.
“Oh, damn it,” said Renita in desperation. “None of them fit.”
“One of them must,” Tamara said. “Let me try.”
But all their efforts were in vain, for none of the keys unlocked the massive barred doors.
“What are we going to do?’ Renita cried. ”How can we save Wes and Palo?”
“We cannot with these keys,” said Tamara. “We must escape and think of something else. Come.”
There was a final barred door trapping them within the prison, and they were down to the last of the keys before the door creaked open. Tamara locked it behind them, and in the distance they could see the lights of Mexico City. Suddenly there was a rustling in the greenery that surrounded the prison, and Tamara cocked the revolver.
“Don’t,” Renita whispered. “It’s Empty.”
The hound had followed Wes as far as he could and had waited without food. Now he recognized Tamara and Renita and made his presence known.
“Perhaps he can lead us to our horses,” Tamara said.
“He won’t leave as long as Wes is here,” said Renita.
Empty followed for a short distance, but when they looked back, they could no longer see him. There was no moon, and the twinkling stars only seemed to make the darkness all the more intense.
“There should be a stable near the statehouse,” Tamara said. “If we cannot find our own horses, there will be others.”
The statehouse had closed, but as they neared the courtyard, they heard footsteps. Concealing themselves in the shadows, they watched as a sentry made his rounds. Finally the nickering of a horse led them to the stable they sought, for it was convenient to the statehouse. A single lantern hung above the entrance.
“Step into the light and ask if there is someone inside,” Tamara said. “I will remain in the shadows with a gun.”
Renita stood beneath the lantern and spoke softly.
“Is there someone here?”
“Si, señorita. Quien es?”
An aged Mexican appeared, and quickly Tamara stepped into the light, revolver cocked and ready to fire. Frightened speechless, the old hostler raised his hands.
“Don’t be afraid,” Renita said. “We only want our horses.”
“Ligero,” said Tamara, pointing to the lantern above the door.
“Sí,” the hostler said. From inside the door he produced a second lantern, and lit it with unsteady hands. He then backed into the stable, holding the lantern for them to see their way. Tamara kept her eyes on him, holding the gun, while Renita looked for their horses.
“I’ve found them,” Renita cried. “The saddles, too.”
“Saddle them quickly,” said Tamara. “Are there horses for Wes and Palo, as well?”
“Yes,” Renita said.
“Saddle them,” Tamara said. “We will take them with us.”
Renita wrestled with the saddles, discovering their Winchesters had been returned to the saddle boots. She led the saddled horses near the open door, and Tamara spoke to the hostler.
“It is time you slept, padre.”
The old hostler swallowed hard and nodded, for she had emphasized her words with the muzzle of the pistol. Tamara and Renita led the saddled horses quickly from the stable, pausing in the shadow of some trees.
“If he cries for help, are you going to shoot him?” Renita asked.
“Of course not,” said Tamara. “I wish to see how much time we have.”
They waited a few moments longer and, when there was no sign of the hostler, led the horses down a tree-lined street where no lights showed.
“We’re free,” Renita said. “Now what?”
“I am not sure,” said Tamara. “I know only that we must escape the town.”
They rode southwest and, only minutes after leaving the town behind, were able to see several fires in the distance. Facing
the wind, they smelled roasting meat.
“The outlaws,” Renita said.
“I do not think so,” said Tamara. “Not so close to the town. Wait for me.”
“Quien es?” a voice inquired, and Tamara spoke.
“Señoritas de El Diablos Pistolas.”
“Sí. Juan know.”
Juan and his companions gathered around, speaking excitedly in Spanish. Realizing they were among friends, Renita rode in leading the two extra horses. She listened, not understanding all the Spanish, until Tamara told her what had been said.
“The Mexican people have rebelled, forcing the court to rescind the conviction of Wes and Palo. They will be freed tomorrow.”
“Dear God,” said Renita, “where does that leave us?”
“As fugitives, I think,” Tamara said. “Somehow we must unite with Wes and Palo.”
“Yes,” said Renita. “We have their horses.”
“That,” Tamara said, “and we still must destroy the Sandlin gang. Let us dismount. Juan and his people have invited us to eat and to stay the night.”
Mexico City. August 19, 1884
Wes and El Lobo had no idea why they were removed from the prison and were again taken to the magistrate’s courtroom. Gonzales wasted no time, for he wished to be done with the disagreeable task.
“You, Wes Stone, and you, Palo Elfego, are being freed. It has been proven to my satisfaction that the witness who testified against you perjured himself. You are free on the condition that you will leave Mexico and never return. A military escort will follow you north to the border and see you into the United States.”
“There are the señoritas,” said Wes. “What of them?”
“They murdered their guards last night and escaped,” Gonzales said. “When we find them, I shall see that they are tried and executed. They took your horses as well as their own. We will provide you with mounts as far as the border, and your weapons will be-returned to you there.”
Not believing their good fortune, Wes and El Lobo turned to go. Waiting for them were four Mexican soldiers. Outside there were six horses, four of them belonging to the soldiers. Wes and El Lobo each mounted one of the extra horses. One of the soldiers drew his saber and pointed north. Having no choice, Wes and El Lobo rode out, their four escorts following. They had ridden only a few miles when they encountered another party of Mexican soldiers, a dozen strong. Wes and El Lobo watched while the two groups conferred. It was obvious they were being discussed, for one of their escorts pointed to them.
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