“Eat up, Ty,” Jim urged.
“I guess I’ll have to.” Ty began eating the same weak, watery stew, and this time there was a crust of hard bread to go with it. It was almost impossible to bite it, but Ty soaked it in the soup and softened it. Once again he was nauseated, but he knew that Adams was right. If he didn’t eat, he would die.
They had only fifteen minutes to eat, and quickly the Pig yelled, “Get out of here! You’re not on a vacation!”
The two Americans were the only white-skinned men in the prison. The two of them had been working for a Mexican railroad when they were arrested. Revolutions shook Mexico on a periodic basis. Neither Jim nor Ty had any feelings about Mexican revolutions, but they had been caught in the middle of one. They had been working on the railroad when the revolutionaries suddenly appeared yelling and screaming.
They killed most of the crew members, but they took the white men prisoners. Ty could never figure why. Jim had said they probably thought they could get a ransom for the two white men. But this had seemed unlikely to Ty, for no one had ever attempted such a thing as far as he knew.
They had worked on the train, teaching the revolutionaries how to fire up the engine, but it was only a short time before the federales, the Mexican police, took over with a large troop of well-armed and fairly well-trained soldiers. They made short work of the revolutionaries and had taken Jim and Ty along with a few other prisoners to the copper mine. “You’ll work in the mine until you die,” the officer said. “This is what you get for interfering in my country’s politics.”
There was no answer for that, so the two men had been thrown into the brutal routine of working from dawn until dusk on such meager rations that over time they became almost like human skeletons.
The work went on, but Ty could not do it.
Bartolo Azner kicked him and then said, “Throw him in his bunk. Lock him in without food or water. He’ll work or he’ll die.”
Adams and two of the other men picked Ty up, carried him to the hut, and laid him on his bunk. Adams leaned over and whispered, “You just stay here. I’ll smuggle you some water back somehow.”
Then Ty Kincaid was left alone. His lungs seemed bound with an iron band, and every time he coughed it felt like he was being stabbed. He coughed and gasped for some time before finally falling into a coma-like sleep.
“Wake up, Ty. I’ve got something for you.”
Ty had been asleep for some time. He knew now that it was dark, for the prisoners were locked up in the hut. “I bribed a guard and got some food and a jug of water. Sit up and eat.”
Ty struggled up, ignoring his desire to cough as it tore him in two. He ate slowly. “How’d you get this food, Jim?”
“Oh, I had a little money on me that they didn’t find, so I bribed a guard. It ain’t much, but it’s better than nothin’.”
“It’s good. Thanks, Jim.”
As he ate, Adams sat beside him. “You need to see a doctor.”
“You know Mexican doctors and how they treat gringo prisoners.”
“Yeah, that’s right.”
The two men were silent until Ty finished the food, which seemed better than the usual fare they received, although Ty realized this was probably just due to his state of hunger. He drank deeply of the tepid water and said, “You could have gotten in big trouble for this if the Pig had caught you.”
“Ah, he’s too stupid to catch anybody.”
“He’s caught two or three. You saw what happened to them.”
Adams shook his head. There was at this time one feeble light, a candle that burned in the center of the room. The sanitary arrangements were two buckets, one at each end of the hut, and the smell was overpowering. “You feel pretty bad, don’t you, Ty?”
“Pretty bad.”
“I don’t guess you’ve ever been in a mess like this.”
“Not this bad. Have you?”
“No, I never have. What about people? Have you got a family?”
“I ran away from my home when I was just a young man, seventeen years old.”
“Why’d you do that?”
“It’s not a pretty story.”
“I can’t think you’d do anything real bad.”
“Well, I did. I got a young woman pregnant. She was only fifteen. When she found out she was going to have a baby, she told me, and I knew her people. The brothers were all mean as snakes. They would have killed me in a minute if they had found out, so I’ve been moving ever since.”
“Well, that’s not a very good story.”
“No, it’s not. I wondered a hundred times if she had that baby and what happened to her. I was nothing but a coward.”
“You were just a kid. Don’t worry. We’ll get out of here. Maybe you and I’ll go find him. Wouldn’t it be somethin’ if you found a young fellow who was your own flesh and blood?”
“I don’t believe good things like that happen.”
Adams leaned forward and studied Ty’s face in the dim light of the flickering yellow candle.
Ty Kincaid knew he was a fairly good-looking man, but disease and ill treatment had stripped the excess flesh off of him so that his face must look almost skull-like.
Adams reached out and laid his hand on Ty’s shoulder. “We’re going to get out of this.”
There was a silence in the room, and Adams looked around carefully before whispering, “I hadn’t told you this, but we got some help outside of this prison.”
“What kind of help?”
“I got a friend in the Mexican government. You may have seen him. He came when we were working on the road a few times. I did him a favor, and he always was grateful. When he came in to see me, he said he was going to help me get out.”
“How is he going to do that?”
“Well, he tried to do it through the court to prove that we weren’t the enemies of Mexico, but Mexican courts ain’t known for their kindness and generosity to gringo prisoners.”
“So that’s out.”
“That is, but you remember when I was gone for about an hour a couple of weeks ago?”
“Yes, you’re the only one that’s had a visitor.”
“Well, some of the Mexicans have. But anyway this friend of mine came. He told me he hadn’t given up. That he was still going to help.”
“How can he do that?”
“He’s going to get us two guns and some ammunition. Then all we have to do is knock our guard over the head when we get a chance, grab a couple of horses, and then cross the border.”
“You think that guard will stay bribed? He could take the money and then tell the Pig what’s going on.”
“My friend says he can handle it. He won’t give the man all the money until we’re away.”
“So you think we can shoot our way out of this?”
“I think we’ve got to do something, Ty. We’re gonna die here sure enough. Not just you, but me, too.” Jim Adams once again put his hand on Ty’s thin shoulder. “God’s going to get us out of this. He’ll help us.”
“You keep saying that, but nothing’s happened.”
“You remember that psalm I read to you that time? The psalm of David?”
“Yes, you read it more than once.”
“Well, you may have forgotten. Your mind ain’t too clear. But David had everything. He was the king of Israel. He had money. He had a good family. He had everything a king has, but Absalom, the son he loved most, rebelled against him and raised an army. David had to run out of Jerusalem trying to keep his son from killing him.”
“I remember you told me that.”
“You may not remember this. David was in the worst shape of his life. He had lost everything. And then he said, ‘I cried unto the Lord.’ And then he said, ‘The Lord comforted me and I lay down and slept.’ Ain’t that a wonderful thing that when a man has lost everything he can lie down and sleep!”
“You believe that, don’t you, Jim?”
“I sure do, and you need to believe it, too.”
“I just can’t do it, Jim. Things look too bad right now.”
“Just hang in there, Ty. We’re gonna make it!”
Two days later Ty woke up in the middle of the night. He knew that much because the door had swung open at least a crack. He saw Jim Adams outlined against the door.
Jim reached out and took something, then came back. The door shut, and the key turned in the lock, making a metallic sound. Jim came back down between the cots and whispered, “You awake, Ty?”
“Yes. What was that?”
Jim leaned closer, and his whisper was barely discernible. “We’ve got guns and ammunition.”
“But the minute we use them, they’ll shoot us down,” Ty argued.
“No, they won’t. Here’s what we’ll do. We’ll do the day’s work, and you know how it’s always dark when we come out of there. The guards don’t pay much attention to us. They can’t imagine a prisoner staying in that mine, so we’ll let everybody else leave, but we’ll stay. As soon as the guards march the prisoners to the mess shack for supper, we’ll take two horses.”
“Where are you going to get horses?”
“I kept my eyes open when they brought us in here. There’s a corral about three hundred yards from the mine. We’d have to go quiet, but there’s no reason for anybody to be around at that time of night.”
“What then?”
“We saddle us two horses, and we mount up and walk them out of here until we’re out of hearing distance. Then we drive those horses straight for the American border.”
“I don’t know if I can make it, Jim. I’m just too sick right now.”
“You’ll make it if I have to throw you over that horse and tie you down,” Jim said. He slapped Ty’s shoulder. “Don’t give up, buddy. God’s going to help us!”
The guards yelled, “Come on. Get out of here! Leave those tools where they are.”
“Stay here,” Adams whispered to Ty.
Ty, who was almost past going, slumped against the wall. There had been a feeble lantern, but one of the prisoners leading the way took it out as he always did. Utter darkness seemed to fill the mine. Kincaid listened as the steps grew fainter. He and Adams then found their way out.
Adams said, “Come on. Here, take this.”
Ty took the gun and held it in his hand. There was no place else to carry it.
“Don’t drop it. I’ve got bullets in a sack tied around my neck. We’re getting out of this place.”
They crept through the darkness, and finally Ty heard the nickering of horses. “I can’t help you, Jim. I’m as weak as a kitten.”
“Some of these horses are pretty tame, and there are saddles here. You wait right here. If anybody comes, don’t let them see you.”
In the velvety blackness of the night, Ty sat down and heard the footsteps of Adams as he left. He had little hope and no faith at all that God would help him. He had listened to Jim’s testimony many times, but it meant nothing to him.
Finally Jim came back leading two horses.
“I can’t go, Jim,” Ty whispered. “I’ll just slow you down.”
“We’re both going. Get on this horse.”
Ty got to his feet and with great effort lifted his foot into the stirrup. He swung into the saddle.
Jim said, “That’s good. I’ll go first. You just hang on to that horn, and I’ll lead your horse.”
“Go without me, Jim.”
“We’re both going.”
The sound of the horses’ hooves seemed very loud to Tyler Kincaid, but he knew that they were at least three hundred yards away from the house where the guards stayed.
Ty said, “Jim, if anything happens, I want you to know I never had a friend like you.”
“You’d do it for me, Ty.”
“I hope we never have the chance to find out about that.”
They had gone no farther than the edge of the camp when suddenly two guards rode out. There was a bright full moon shining, and one of them called out, “Hola! Stop where you are!”
“We’ve got to run for it, Ty!” Jim turned his horse, and as the two guards rode full speed toward him, he aimed and fired.
The guards began firing, too, and although Ty could see little, he lifted his own gun and threw a few shots. The guards halted. One of them fell out of his saddle; the other turned and rode away.
“We’ve got to get out of here, Ty!”
“Let’s go.”
The two rode hard for some time, and then Jim said, “Gotta stop, Ty.”
“What’s the matter?”
“They got me.” Jim suddenly swayed in the saddle then fell off. He hit the ground with a thud.
Ty’s head was swimming. As weak as he was, he came off his horse at once. He was dizzy and sick, but he knelt beside Adams and said, “Where’d they get you?”
“In the back.” The words were feeble.
Ty leaned down, and even in the darkness he could see the blood beginning to stain the prison garments that Adams wore. “We’ll have to take you back to a doctor.”
“No, I ain’t going to make it, but I want you to.” The words came slow.
Ty Kincaid leaned forward. “Don’t die on me, Jim!”
“It’s a good thing I went to that revival meeting and got saved.” Adams coughed, and his voice began to fade. “I’ll be with God, but you get out of here. Ty, make your life count.”
Ty at once held him, but the life went out of the man. Tears ran down Ty’s face. Finally he laid the body down gently, took the gun that was beside Adams, and went back, loosed the lines, and mounted his horse. “I’m too weak to bury you, Jim. I wish I could.” He turned his horse’s head, and his heart grew darker as he rode off into the gloom, knowing he would never forget Jim Adams.
CHAPTER 2
The steamy swamps of the southern coast of Louisiana put out an unseemly heat during the late summer. This pattern had been broken, however, for it was the middle of December, and a cold spell unlike anything the inhabitants had ever experienced had dropped down from the north. The populace of La Tete were fortunate that the worst of the winter storms were north of them, but they found themselves shivering. Men and woman alike put on heavy coats before going out to face the stiff winds and the dropping temperatures. The Cajun people, who were thickly settled in La Tete, fared no better than anyone else but kept fires burning in their huts in the swamp and in the larger towns to the north.
The feeble candle that Raina Vernay had lit barely enabled her to read the book she held. It cast a yellow flickering corona of light over the pages. Raina was so intent on the story that she hardly heard the door swing open, but she suddenly felt hands placed on her. She uttered a small cry of alarm and with a violent start came to her feet.
She saw her sister’s husband, Millard Billaud. He was a big, brutal man with coarse features. As usual he was carelessly dressed.
Raina jerked away from him and moved to get away out the door, but he blocked the entrance. “Get out of my room, Millard!” Raina said loudly. “I told you never to come in here.”
Millard was not alarmed by her anger. He smiled, and his thick lips had a brutal cast. His hatchet face was dark, and his flat black eyes gleamed. For all his size he was very quick, as Raina had learned to her sorrow, and she retreated until her back was pressed against the wall.
“Don’t be so shy, Raina,” Billaud said. “You’ve been up in this cold room long enough. You need to get downstairs where we got some fire.”
“Next time you come into my room, knock on the door,” Raina said, knowing her words would have no effect at all.
Suddenly his eyes glowed with anger, and ignoring her protests, he advanced and seized her by her shoulders.
Raina cried out as his mighty grip cut into her flesh like steel hooks.
“You never learn, do you, Raina?” Billaud said. He made no attempt to disguise the pleasure that her gasp of pain gave him. “If you had any sense at all, you’d know that I’m never going to let y
ou get away from me.”
Raina struggled mightily, but she was not a strong woman, certainly not one to match Billaud. “You’re a yellow cur, Billaud,” she said. She was unable to avoid the ringing slap that caught her on the cheek. She gasped, and her eyes watered with the pain. “You can hit me, but you can never have me.”
“Oh yes, I’ll have you. What’s the matter with you anyhow? You ought to be happy that a man finds you attractive.”
Raina kicked his leg, and he gave a grimace of pain and let out a sudden gasp. “Get out of my room! Or maybe you want me to scream to let Roxie know what’s going on with you.”
Billaud stared at her, studying her for a moment. His expression was a mixture of anger and admiration. He was accustomed to having his way with the lower class of women that frequented the saloon that his wife had inherited part ownership in, which he now owned. His eyes wandered over her and took obvious pleasure in her appearance.
Raina recoiled in revulsion. She knew she was considered attractive by many with her large eyes, which were her most prominent feature, well shaped and of a peculiar shade between green and blue. Her hair was jet black and fell in lush profusion over her shoulders. She had an olive complexion, which came from her Cajun mother. Although she was barely five feet five inches in height, her carriage was so erect she seemed taller. She wore a faded calico dress of some indeterminate brown color, but it did not conceal the full-bodied figure that was rather common in young Cajun women. Her curving lips and smooth oval face made a striking combination that had brought her the unwelcome attention of many men since she had been a teenager.
Billaud stared at her with a lustful look in his eyes and shook his head. “You didn’t learn anything the last few days, did you?” He slapped his hands together and said, “You tried to run away, but you didn’t make it and you never will.”
Indeed, Raina had tried to run away. The saloon was the only world she knew. Her mother had owned it and willed it to her sister, Roxie, and herself. Roxie, a plain woman unlike Raina, had made a foolish marriage with Billaud. She had quickly learned that he cared nothing for her but was determined to own the Silver Dollar Saloon.
The Western Justice Trilogy Page 51