There were surprised questions on the part of the others. "But, why, why?" I demanded, still stunned from the news of my good fortune, and capable only of stammering practically incoherent queries.
Taggert laughed shortly, swallowed half his whisky at a gulp. "Maybe I'd better start farther back. You see, ever since the Civil War—or War between the States, or War of the Rebellion—whatever you like to call it, there's been a certain faction in Washington and New York, that wanted to declare war on Mexico and take over the country. We still had a huge army in the north, so why not? There's much wealth in Mexico—minerals and so on. Why shouldn't the United States take it over? It would be simple. And there were men in Congress who were more than willing to push the idea, as well as big financial men in the east."
We listened wide-eyed as Taggert explained things. "When France put the Emperor Maximilian on the throne in Mexico, these men wanted to use that against Mexico, with the claim Mexico had violated the Monroe Doctrine. Well, that idea didn't hold water. Mexico had captured and executed Maximilian, proving Mexico was blameless. And we didn't want to get involved in a war with France. So another scheme was tried. If it could be made to look as though Mexico had committed an overt antagonist act against this country, Congress would have an excuse to declare war on Mexico. So it was planned that an army would be set up in Heraldica, south of here, and men trained in the pretense of being Mexicans. Arms and munitions were shipped there, under the guise of sewing machines. Once the fake Mexican army was ready, it was to make raids along the border on U.S. towns, killing, stealing, and raping, and so on. Once that happened, Congress would be fooled into declaring war. Various financiers along the southwest country subscribed to the idea—Banker Kirby was one of them—oh, we got names from Senator Whitlock and made arrests right and left." He looked rather grim. "Once we had them in jail, they all talked freely, whining that the Senator had misled them. Rats!"
"God Almighty!" Jeff exclaimed.
"He still is, I reckon," Taggert said tersely. "Mr. Pinkerton's Secret Service in Washington has had operatives scattered throughout the Southwest. U.S. Marshals and Deputy Marshals were appointed to help out." Taggert turned to me. "When Webb Jordan was shot by Hondo Crowell, up in Deosso Springs, he wasn't after you, Cardinal. He was about to arrest the Senator then, but Whitlock suspected something of the sort and had a bodyguard with him. So it was necessary that Jordan be killed—and he almost was. Oh, yes, Jordan has told us how you saved his life down on the Rio Grande, Cardinal. He's eager to see you again. He was able to learn much about you."
Taggert drained his whisky glass and continued. "It was you, Jeff Tawney, who threw a monkey wrench in Whitlock's plans when you refused to allow his crates and boxes to cross your holdings. You'll remember that Shel Webster tried to buy you out and you refused under the plea you couldn't give clear title, as you had a pardner, whereabouts unknown. Webster was under Whitlock's orders, of course. So then, it became necessary to learn the name of the pardner. A search of the records, witnessed by Jeff's father, revealed that Cardinal was the unknown owner. Cardinal, of Tenango City. At Tenango City, Whitlock's agents learned that John Cardinal was a fugitive from justice. That fitted right in with Whitlock's plans. He finagled around and had further reward bills printed for Cardinal's arrest, dead or alive, claiming all sorts of crimes in various parts of Texas—"
"But, why?" I asked, bewildered.
"Simple enough, Johnny. The more reward bills, the more men seeking the rewards. Sooner or later, the Senator figured someone would kill you, probably by back-shooting, and thus dispose of your ownership in the Box-CT. Had Shel Webster known all this, he'd probably have shot you himself, but Whitlock had never explained. As I understand it, Webster actually believed what those bills stated, and figured to get you on his payroll."
"He won't anymore," I said despondently. "By this time he likely knows what a fake I am."
Mateo had stepped out of the room for a minute. Now he returned with a fresh bottle of whisky and filled our glasses. Taggert swallowed a long draught that emptied his glass and reached for the bottle. "Anyway, Johnny," he said a minute later, "you'll not have to worry about Shel Webster, or Onyxton, any longer, after tonight."
"Howcome?" I asked.
"By this time," Taggert explained confidently, "a regiment of U.S. cavalry, aided by some hundred-fifty riders we've deputized, have swooped down on Onyxton and made arrests, busting up the whole scheme—made arrests or otherwise have disposed of that's rattler's nest. They were due to strike without warning, at seven this evening."
My first thought was of Topaz, and my heart dropped. What would happen to her? I was so miserable I could scarcely find words to speak. I didn't mention Topaz, though. Instead: "There's that gang at Heraldica. Your men will move down there after taking over Onyxton?"
Taggert shook his head. "Crossing the border might lead to some sort of international complications, interfering in Mexico's internal affairs, and so on. But the Mexican Government has been alerted by Washington. Two days from now, a detachment of the Mexican Army will swoop down on Heraldica and wipe out that nest of skunks."
Taggert poured himself a drink, put it away. "So you can now understand, Johnny, why I came here this afternoon. Webb Jordan wanted you to know, as soon as possible, you are in the clear. And now, I reckon, I'd best get back to Onyxton and see how things have gone."
I said, "Damn nice of you to come, Marshal Taggert, though I admit I was mighty scared for a time. This business of juggling a bad record, a bluff and Shel Webster had me a mite nervous."
"Understandable," Taggert laughed. "You'll not have to bother about Webster. By this time he's under arrest—or dead." He turned to Mateo. "Would you please have one of your men bring my hawss around? I've already wasted enough time—" He stopped short, then, "I shouldn't say waste—not with this kind of bourbon to drink—"
We all stopped, listening. From outside came the rapid beating of horse's hoofs, coming fast. The sounds approached nearer. I could almost visualize the scattering of dust and gravel as the rider jerked the horse back into a long sliding halt before the house gallery. There were quick footsteps outside. There came a pounding on the door, even before Jeff could reach it. He flung back the door and Topaz stepped inside. Lord, the sudden feelings that engulfed me. Almost instantly I banished all thought of the scene I'd witnessed earlier that day. I could see she'd been riding hard: wisps of that red-gold hair hung untidily from beneath her sombrero brim. Her divided skirt was foam-flecked from her pony's jaws. She half staggered into the room as Jeff closed the door.
"Is—is Johnny here?" she panted, then she spied me and hurried across the room.
I didn't give a damn who was watching and I guess she didn't either. My arms whipped around her, holding her close. For a full minute neither of us could speak. Finally, Taggert's voice, holding a chuckle, brought us to our senses.
We heard him say, "Well, this is a new development."
We parted suddenly, flushing. Topaz spoke in surprise: "Marshal Taggert, what are you—well, I thought—"
Mama Benita must have been listening in her kitchen. Now she came bustling in, carrying the coffeepot and cups. I guided Topaz to a chair and she settled tiredly into it, saying something about coffee being welcome. We let her rest a minute.
I could hold in no longer. "Marshal Taggert, since when do you know Miss Topaz?"
His eyes twinkled. "For a long time. Hasn't Miss Topaz told you that she is one of Mr. Pinkerton's best operatives?"
"I couldn't, Johnny." Topaz set down her coffee cup. "I was sworn to an oath of secrecy—"
I let out a yell: "You're—you're a secret service agent, from Washington?"
She nodded and there was that beautiful smile again. Marshal Taggert said, "Topaz has been keeping tabs on Shel Webster and his doings for months now—"
"That and fighting him off," Topaz put in a bit grimly, "that and pretending to be what I wasn't. I hope, Johnny, that clears things up fo
r you." I could only nod dumbly, as she went on, "Did you have a nice ride today, Johnny?" A smile went with that.
I could feel color climbing into my face. "Did you see me?" She nodded. "Webster didn't though—" Taggert broke in, "Now that various friendly relations have been put through"—he cleared his throat—"I'm waiting to hear about Onyxton, Topaz."
Topaz nodded. "Our men dropped in on schedule, Marshal. There was very little trouble and not a great deal of shooting. Onyxton was completely taken over. A great many prisoners were taken. There'd likely been more opposition if Webster had been there to lead, but as it was—"
"Where was Webster?" My voice was unusually loud in my excitement.
"That's what I've come to tell you," Topaz explained, "and warn you—"
Taggert swore. "Damn and blast! Orders from headquarters were to get Webster first of all, if possible. He was a key man—"
"He wasn't in Onyxton," Topaz explained and there was a sort of hopeless note in her voice. "I went riding with him, this morning—as Johnny knows—and immediately we returned to town he told me he was heading for Heraldica. Had he known his town was to be hit tonight, undoubtedly he would have stayed, but of course he didn't. He didn't even wait to get a fresh horse, but immediately left—"
"I doubt very much he came past here," Jeff frowned. "Somebody would have been sure to spot him—"
"He planned to ride wide of the Box-CT," Topaz explained, "taking a route over Buzzard Buttes, until he was clear of the ranch, then swing toward Heraldica—"
"Why?" Taggert demanded tersely.
"Webster lost his patience. One way or another he had to have a clear road for munitions through here. He's going to round up that gang of phony Mexicans and raid the Box-CT tonight—"
"How many men has he got over there?" Taggert snapped.
"About fifteen-hundred," Topaz replied.
Jeff exclaimed, "Good God! And we're practically defenseless against a gang that size!"
"When's he due to hit here?" I asked.
"By midnight, at least," Topaz said tiredly.
XX
No one spoke. I reckon we were all too stunned to find utterance for the myriad thoughts coursing through our minds.
It was Taggert who first found his voice, and it was almost a groan. "And the soldiers being sent by the Mexican Government to Heraldica not due for two days." He swung on Jeff: "How many men you got here?"
Jeff's face was white. I reckon mine was too, as I thought: Now that I've really found Topaz, it looks like we'll all be finished. Numbly, I heard Jeff reply, "A couple of the boys are home on a visit. We can round up about a dozen. There's five of us here—"
"Six," Topaz corrected. "I know how to handle a gun." She seemed cooler than any of us.
Mateo put in, "Mama Benita is ver' good at the reload for us, an' we have plenty of rifles and six-shooters."
"But against fifteen-hundred raiders," Jeff said, "what chance will we have?"
Mama Benita came waddling into the room. "Also, I can make the fine coffee which fighters require," she announced coolly in Spanish. "What is this business that requires so much of excitement, like a running around by a chicken with the head separated from the body? Mateo! A warning to the vaqueros! Why delay?"
Mateo nodded and rushed from the house. I reckon we were all too stunned to think straight, but some preparations were made for a defense. Furniture was moved against doors and below windows. Half-shutters were raised, and windows lifted part way. Mateo returned to the house followed by the vaqueros, all bearing guns. From an inner room, Jeff produced more rifles and six-shooters, plus boxes of ammunition. Everyone pitched in to help and there was a continual chatter of Spanish and English. I glanced around. Everyone seemed to have his nerve with him. I looked at Topaz. She had again settled to the chair, eyes half-closed, weary almost to death, now that reaction had set in. Chepa, Mama's assistant, was rolling preparatory bandages.
Marshal Taggert spoke suddenly. "I reckon we're all a bunch of knuckle-heads, not thinking straight. Only a fool could think of fighting off a force of that size. We're doomed before we start. It would be only a question of time before we were overpowered."
"What's the alternative?" Jeff asked.
"We'd better saddle up and get out, while we've got a chance, through the canyon to Onyxton—"
"And bring back the cavalry from there?" Jeff asked.
Taggert shook his head. "Governmental regulations are pretty strict. I doubt the colonel in charge of the soldiers would cross the border without orders. He looked like a stickler for duty to me. Oh, the men deputized, non-soldiers, would come, but any way you look at it, we'd be outnumbered. It's just common sense for us all to get out."
I could feel my temper rising. I snapped, "Look, I never before owned a ranch in my life. I'm damned if I'm going to be run out now!"
There were protests from the others. Looking back, I can see where Taggert made sense, but my blood was close to the boiling point. I made a counter-proposal: "Marshal, my idea is that you head for Onyxton, pronto!" I saw the color rise in his face. "Don't get me wrong. I'm not suspecting your courage. But you're the only one who might be able to persuade the military and the others to come. And take Topaz and Mama Benita with you—"
Mama wasn't in the room, but Topaz cut in on my idea, "Johnny, if you stay, I stay."
Lord, I was proud of her when she said that. I started to object.
Marshal Taggert cut in, "There's a good deal in what you say, Johnny Cardinal, and if you don't think I'd be running out, I might try. Maybe you could hold the scuts off until I got back with riders—if they'd come—" And that was as far as he got.
From outside came the sound of galloping hoofbeats, wild yells. Jeff rushed to the window, then turned hopelessly back. "They didn't even wait until midnight. The house is surrounded—"
A volley of wild shots struck our thick adobe walls. A window crashed.
"So, the argument is settled," Topaz said coolly, getting to her feet.
Taggert swore. "We wasted too much time arguing in the first place. We're in for it."
There hadn't been any need of orders as lights were quickly doused all over the house. Men were taking places at windows, guns at ready. There came another burst of gunfire against the walls, more wild yelling. Horsemen loped their horses around the house and down near the corral, discharging firearms wildly.
Outside the country was bathed in moonlight, making everything as plain as day, which gave us some advantage.
Taggert said once, "They sound like they're all drunker'n hoot-owls. If everyone is set, unload your fire, but make sure of your mark."
From within the house came the sudden rattle of rifle shots and six-shooters. I don't know what luck the others had, but I know I dropped one rider as he started around the side of the house. I was crouched low at the window ledge, Topaz kneeling by my side.
Someone outside yelled an order. Topaz said, "That's Webster's voice. And I was hoping I'd never hear it again."
The firing of the Webster forces suddenly ceased, the riders drawing to one side. Webster's voice came again:
"You hombres within the house, can you hear me?"
None of us replied.
Webster's voice again, pitched louder. "You know by this time you haven't a chance, so give up. I give you my word if you'll come out, you may leave in safety."
"Liar!" Taggert yelled back. "A rat doesn't have any decent word to give. If you want a fight, we aim to give it to you!"
Kneeling at his window, he snapped three fast shots from his six-shooter. Someone let out a yell, but it wasn't Webster's voice. "Missed, dammit!" Taggert growled disgustedly. "There was four or five skunks bunched there. I wa'n't sure which was him, but—"
He had no time to say more as a rattle of gunfire flattened against walls. We could hear windows being shattered at the front of the house. Three slugs whined harmlessly through the room. The crazy yells increased, as riders coursed 'round and 'round the h
ouse.
There were half a dozen windows on each side of the house, four in front and three at the rear. I was at a side window, Topaz with me. Both of us, as were the rest, were keeping heads down, raising only to shoot from time to time.
At least we had moonlight to spot the enemy by, and from various agonized cries I judged we were all making our shots count. From a front window I heard Jeff say, "Maybe there were fifteen-hundred of those coyotes due here, but I got a hunch Webster couldn't round up that many."
"How many you figure?" Mike asked.
"I don't reckon Webster has more than three hundred riders with him."
"That's a big relief," Topaz said dryly at my side. "Only three hundred against us." She lifted a rifle, tightened finger on trigger. I spied a man go sprawling from his saddle, and a shot of mine knocked over a horse.
"What's out there sounds drunk," Marshal Taggert said, above the drumming of firearms. "Could be the rest of the fifteen-hundred were too soused to sit a horse."
One of the vaqueros at a rear window called, "Those cabrones—they try to set the fire to the bunkhouse."
There came more crazy yelling. Jeff said, "Luckily, adobe doesn't burn easily."
Glancing around, I caught a brief flash of ragged, crimson streaks at the windows. I could feel the perspiration pouring down from my forehead. My eyes and throat and nostrils burned from the acrid fumes of burned gunpowder. Smoke swirled through the room. I felt Topaz give my arm a squeeze. "Nice shindig, eh?" she laughed coolly.
I stared at her through the gloom. "Good Lord, you must have steel nerves."
"Something very necessary in the life I've been leading—" She broke off, lifting her gun for another shot.
The din was terrific, guns and galloping hoofs, as some of the bandits coursed round and round the house, like a gang of wild Comanches, encircling a wagon-train.
From time to time, I'd catch news of one of our men being hit, but apparently no one had been wounded seriously. Mama Benita bustled about, bringing steaming cups of coffee and helping bind up wounds.
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