The Legend of El Duque

by J. R. Roberts

  “I couldn’t do that.”

  “Well,” Werter said, “maybe one day. What’s on your mind?”

  “Doc says we got most of the herd dipped,” Hagen said. “He says if Adams comes back with that bull in a month or more, it should be okay.”

  “A month, huh? Might take longer than that.”

  “I got somethin’ to tell you, boss.”

  “What’s that?”

  “The word’s got out about El Duque, and you sending a man to pick him up.”

  “So?”

  “The word’s also out on how much money he’ll be carryin’—thousands of dollars.”

  “Damn,” Werter said. “That ain’t going to make Clint’s job any easier.”

  “No, it ain’t,” Hagen said.

  “They’ll try to kill him on the way to Mexico for the money, or on the way back for the bull.”

  “If he takes the job,” Hagen added.

  “Oh, don’t worry,” Werter said. “He’ll do it. The only question is, will he do it as a favor or as a job?”

  “You think he’ll turn down the money?”

  “I don’t know,” Werter said. “It’s been five years since I’ve seen him.”

  “But you still think he’s comin’?”

  “Like I told Lizzie,” Werter said, “he’ll be here. That’s what his telegram said.”

  “Okay, boss,” Hagen said, “like you say.” He stood up. “Night.”

  “Night, Ed.”

  The foreman left and Werter sat back in his chair, hoping he was right about his friend, even after five years.

  * * *

  Outside the bunkhouse two hands, Branch and Dunwoody, were talking with their heads close together.

  Branch said, “That’s a heckuva lot of money.”

  “Yeah, but Mr. Werter,” Dunwoody said, “he’s the boss.”

  “Yeah, he is.”

  “Well, you ain’t thinkin’ of tryin’ to steal that money, are ya?”

  “Hell, no,” Branch lied. “Course I ain’t thinkin’ of that. I’m just sayin’, is all.”

  “I got to get to bed, Branch,” Dunwoody said.

  “Yeah, go ahead,” Branch said. “Night.”

  Branch had talked to four of the men now, and still hadn’t found anyone to help him steal that money, but he knew there had to be other men in the crew who felt the way he did. Sooner or later, he’d find someone to help him take that money from whoever Werter trusted with it.

  Sooner or later.

  FOUR

  Clint woke up the next morning, checked out of the hotel, and walked to the livery. The liveryman had Eclipse all ready for him.

  “Thanks,” Clint said.

  “My pleasure havin’ that animal in my barn, Mr. Adams,” the man said.

  Clint mounted up and rode out of town, heading for the Big W spread.

  * * *

  As Clint rode up to the main house, a few hands turned from what they were doing in the corral to watch. Another man came out of the barn at the sound of his approaching horse.

  “Can I help you?”

  “I’m looking for Bill Werter,” Clint said.

  “You Adams?”

  “That’s right.” He dismounted.

  “I’m Ed Hagen,” the man said. “Foreman.”

  “Glad to meet you.”

  “The boss has been waitin’ for you real anxious-like,” Hagen said. “Come on, I’ll have somebody take your horse to the barn and I’ll take you inside.”

  “Okay.”

  The foreman waved a man over and handed him Eclipse’s reins.

  “Watch out for him,” Clint said, “he’ll take off your finger.”

  “Yessir,” the hand said.

  Hagen walked Clint into the house and down a hall to Werter’s office.

  “Boss,” he said, “Mr. Adams is here.”

  Werter looked up from his desk, smiled, and jumped up. He rushed across the room with his hand out.

  “Clint! It’s great to see you.”

  “Bill,” Clint said, pumping Werter’s hand.

  “You met my foreman, Ed.”

  “Yeah, we met.”

  “Well, sit down, sit down,” Werter said. “I’ve been on the edge of my seat waiting for you.”

  The two men sat across the desk from each other.

  “Boss, you want me to go?” Ed Hagen asked.

  “No, Ed, stay,” Werter said. “This concerns you, too.”

  Hagen moved over by a wall and leaned against it.

  “Where’s Lizzie?” Clint asked.

  “Upstairs,” Werter said. “She’s been anxious to see you, but let’s get our business done first. You’re gonna stay to supper.”

  “Sure,” Clint said, “that’s fine. Business first, Bill. I hear you’ve had some problems with your cattle.”

  “Texas fever, but we’ve got that covered, Clint. The doc has taken care of it.”

  “What do you need me for, then?” Clint asked.

  “My other problem,” Werter said. “The fever took my prize bull.”

  “And?”

  “I’m buying a new one.”

  “From where?”

  “Mexico.”

  “From who?”

  “Rancher down there, a rich one,” Werter said, “and he’s going to be richer after I pay him for El Duque.”

  “El Duque?”

  “That’s the bull.”

  “How much are you paying?”

  “A lot. I need somebody I can trust with that much money, Clint. Somebody I can trust to go down there, buy the bull, and bring him back. That’s why I need you.”

  “Why not send a bunch of your men? Then they could watch each other.”

  “I think this is a one-man job, Clint,” Werter said. “You’ll attract less attention.”

  “You think somebody’ll try to rob whoever you send down there?”

  Werter nodded.

  “Either on the way there or on the way back,” Werter said. “The word has gotten out.”

  Clint looked over at Ed Hagen.

  “I offered,” Hagen said. “In fact, I’m offerin’ to go with you.”

  “We can talk about that,” Werter said to both of them. “After we agree to terms.”

  “I could do this for you, Bill,” Clint said. “I mean, as a favor.”

  “No,” Werter said, “this is a job, Clint. I’m going to pay you well. All you have to do is accept.”

  “It’ll be a long trip, Bill.”

  “I know it. But I need that bull.”

  “All right, then,” Clint said.

  “You’ll do it?”

  “Sure.”

  “How much do you want?”

  “How much are you offering?”

  Werter looked at Hagen.

  “Ed, I think you can go now,” he said. “Clint and I can finish up here.”

  “Sure, boss.”

  “Tell the cook to add one for supper, will you?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Hagen turned to leave.

  “And close the door on your way out,” Werter said. “Thanks.”

  The foreman nodded, stepped out, and closed the door.

  FIVE

  In town, Sheriff Lane sat in his office with three men named Tibbs, Jerome, and Steiger.

  “I’m pretty sure Adams is here to go and pick up the bull,” he said.

  “But where?” Tibbs asked.

  “I’ve heard Mexico, but I don’t know what part. That means you’ll have to hit him on the way down.”

  “If we follow him, he’ll spot us,” Jerome said.

  “How do you know that?” Lane asked.

  “He’s the Gunsmith.”


  “Don’t be scared of his reputation,” Lane said. “This is a lot of cash we’re talkin’ about.”

  “How much?” Steiger asked.

  “Don’t know,” Lane said, “but we’re talkin’ thousands.”

  “And you’re trustin’ us to go get it?” Steiger asked him.

  “Sure, I’m trustin’ you.”

  “Why?” Tibbs asked.

  “Because if you cross me,” Lane said, “I’ll just send three other men to kill you. It’s easier to give me my split.”

  “And what is your split?”

  “Even,” Lane said. “I’m not greedy. The four of us split it evenly.”

  “Thousands?” Jerome asked.

  “Five,” Lane said, “maybe more.”

  “How much is that each?” Tibbs asked.

  “At least twelve hundred,” Lane said.

  “That’s . . .” Tibbs said.

  “One thousand two hundred and fifty dollars, to be exact,” Steiger said. “That’s the split if it’s five thousand.”

  “And it may be more.”

  The three hired gunmen exchanged glances.

  “Whataya say?” Lane asked.

  “Why don’t you chuck that badge away and come with us?” Steiger asked.

  “No,” Lane said, “it’s not enough money for me to throw everything away. But it’s enough for me to send you fellas.”

  “After we kill Adams for that money,” Steiger asked, “you’re still gonna wear that badge?”

  “Sure I am,” Lane said. “I earned this badge, and every other badge I ever wore. But when you hand me my split, I’ll have earned that, too.”

  “When is he leavin’?” Tibbs asked.

  “Probably in the mornin’,” Lane said. “If I find out for sure before that, I’ll let you know.”

  “Okay,” Steiger said, “we’ll be ready to leave in the mornin’. I’ll figure out a way to trail him without him knowin’ it.”

  “I knew I could count on you,” Lane said.

  Steiger stood and the other two followed him out. Sheriff Lane sat back in his chair, hoping he’d have more information before the night was out.

  Outside, Tibbs asked, “Are we really gonna give Lane a cut?”

  Steiger looked at him.

  “Let’s see how much money we’re talkin’ about,” he said. “If it’s enough to take the risk, then fuck him. Let him stay here with his badge.”

  He looked at Jerome, who nodded.

  “Let’s get a drink,” Steiger said.

  * * *

  Clint became reacquainted with Elizabeth over supper. She had changed from a gangly fourteen-year-old to a lovely young lady of twenty.

  “I’m so glad you’re going to help us, Mr. Adams,” she said, passing him a bowl of mashed potatoes.

  “When you were fourteen, you called me Clint,” he told her. “Can you still do that?”

  “All right, Clint.”

  After agreeing on his price, Clint had spent the rest of the day looking over the spread with Werter. It had grown by ten times since he’d last been there. He also met the vet, Doc Tyler, who explained that they had the Texas fever beat.

  “Just not in time to save the bull.”

  Clint took some potatoes, and passed the bowl to the foreman, Hagen. Then he accepted the platter of sliced beef from Lizzie, took two slices, and passed them on. Gravy, next. This was shaping up to be the best meal he’d had in months.

  Around the table were Werter, Lizzie, Clint, Ed Hagen, and Doc Tyler.

  “What’s this new bull like?” Tyler asked.

  “A little younger than the king,” Werter said. “He’s got a big rep down in Mexico.”

  “Why are they letting him go?” Clint asked.

  “Because it’s a lot of money,” Werter said, “and because they have another one.”

  “A second bull?”

  Werter nodded.

  “Even younger.”

  “What’s his name?” Lizzie asked.

  “That’ll be for Clint to find out when he gets down there,” Werter said, “if he wants to.”

  “That doesn’t really matter, does it?” Clint asked.

  “No,” Werter said. “Only if you’re curious.”

  “Who are you buying this bull from?”

  “Don Pablo Sandoval,” Werter said. “His name’s a lot longer than that, but that’s pretty much it.”

  “Is he very rich?” Lizzie asked.

  “Very rich,” Werter said.

  “Richer than us?” she asked.

  Werter laughed.

  “A lot of people are richer than us, daughter,” he told her.

  “Well,” Clint said, cutting into his meat, “not really that many.”

  SIX

  After supper Clint went into the sitting room with Bill Werter and the doc. They had cigars and brandy.

  “You’re not really plannin’ on makin’ this trip alone, are you?” the doc asked Clint.

  “Why not?” Clint asked. “Like Bill says, I’ll make a smaller target that way.”

  “Not with that bull in tow,” Tyler pointed out.

  “I’ll worry about that on the way back,” Clint said. “Maybe, when the money’s been paid, nobody will care about the bull.”

  “He’s still gonna be a valuable animal,” Tyler said. “Somebody could grab him and ransom him.”

  “And I’d pay,” Werter said.

  “Again?” Tyler asked.

  “Again,” Werter said. “I need that bull, no matter how much it costs.”

  Clint drew on the very good cigar and sipped the excellent brandy.

  “You’re staying the night, of course,” Werter said.

  “Yes,” Clint said. “And I’ll leave in the morning.”

  “I will send a telegram to Don Pablo and let him know you’re coming.”

  “And the price has been agreed on?” Clint asked.

  “Yes.”

  “And what am I riding into?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, what are the feelings on the other side about Don Pablo selling this bull?”

  “I . . . don’t know what the situation is down there. Are you thinking that someone on that end might try to stop you?”

  “Why not?” Clint asked. “Why should the situation be any different there?”

  “So somebody from Mexico might try to rob you before you get there.”

  “Could be.”

  “Maybe you shouldn’t do this alone, then,” Werter suggested.

  “It’s a little late for that.”

  “I can still send someone with you,” Werter said. “Ed, for instance—”

  “I’d need someone I know I can trust to watch my back, Bill,” Clint said. “That means someone I would pick out myself. That’s what I meant when I said it’s a little late. I’ll be leaving in the morning.”

  Werter frowned.

  “Maybe I should pay you more.”

  “It’s not about the money,” Clint said. He stood up, set the glass down. “I’m going to turn in.”

  “We’ll have a good breakfast before you leave,” Werter said, also standing.

  “Suits me.”

  “I’ll show you to your room.”

  They walked to the stairs together and went up to the second floor. Werter took Clint to one of the guest rooms.

  “My room is all the way at the end, if you need anything,” the man said.

  “I’ll be fine.”

  “Clint,” Werter said, putting his hand out, “whatever happens, I appreciate you coming.”

  Clint shook the man’s hand and said, “I’m happy to help—and make some money at the same time.”

  “I know you’re n
ot doing this for the money,” Werter said, “but I need this whole thing to be a business proposition.”

  “Understood. Good night, Bill.”

  “Night, Clint.”

  Clint went into his room and closed the door behind him.

  SEVEN

  Harve Steiger woke the next morning and glanced at the whore lying next to him. He’d paid three dollars for her to stay all night. Three dollars was a lot when you were used to nickel night at the whorehouse, but he was already feeling richer.

  She wasn’t young, and she wasn’t beautiful, but she had the kind of body he liked to be in bed with, big and meaty and warm. On top of that, she was a talented whore, and she liked her work.

  She was lying naked, almost on her belly but leaning slightly on her left buttock. The right one was staring up at him, big and round and smooth. He smiled and slapped her on that cheek hard enough to leave the red print of his hand.

  “Hey!” she shouted, sitting straight up in bed and staring around. “What the hell?”

  “Rise and shine,” he said. “Time for you to put that talented mouth to work, woman.”

  “What time is it?” she asked, yawning. She stretched at the same time, his eyes going right to her heavy breasts as they rose and fell.

  “It’s early,” he said, “and I have to leave soon. So come on, let’s go.”

  He got to his knees on the bed and took his flaccid penis in his hand so he could shake it at her.

  She stared at his dick, then at his face, then back at his dick.

  “Really? Is that supposed to put me in the mood?”

  “I don’t have time to put you in the mood,” he said. “Come on, you’re a whore. A dollar puts you in the mood, and I gave you three.”

  “I think you worked off those three when you stuck your tallywacker in my butt, Steiger,” she said. “That hurts, you know.”

  “Then why were you moanin’ and groanin’ like you loved it?” he demanded.

  “Because,” she answered, “you gave me three dollars!”

  “Whore,” he said, “if you don’t suck this cock, I’m gonna give you somethin’ else.”

  “You don’t even remember my name!”

  “Wrong,” he said, “I never knew your name, and I don’t care. Suck!”

  She glared at him, then got down on her belly, took his dick in her hand, and took it in her mouth. The flaccid thing just sat there, then started to swell slightly. She tickled his balls with one hand, stroked him with the other, while she increased the pressure of her sucking.