by Jack Usher
Orrosco sat down quickly on the couch. He didn’t look happy, nervously fingering the sweat-stained hat he’d removed when he’d first entered the office.
“Excuse me a minute, Pelchek,” Reyes said, then spoke in rapid, voluble Spanish to the man on the couch. They conversed for several minutes, then Reyes turned to Pelchek. “He’s afraid. Wants to know if you’ll keep him out of this.”
“I’ll never mention his name.”
“That isn’t enough. If this deal breaks they’ll automatically pick him up and Romero gets very rough with wetbacks when he gets ’em in jail. They can’t afford to squawk. No, this man will have to leave Las Milpas. Tonight.”
“How much?”
“For five hundred dollars he can go back to his village in Mexico and be a big shot for a year.”
“Do you think it’s worth it?”
“I think so,” Reyes said. He jumped down from the safe and went to his desk. He extracted a bottle and three shot glasses, arranged them in a row on top of the desk, filled them.
“Nighttime’s for whiskey, huh?” He gestured for Pelchek and Orrosco to help themselves. The three men toasted one another silently, drank.
“It’s a deal,” Pelchek said. “Let’s hear it.”
“I’d better tell you,” Reyes said, seating himself on the corner of the desk. “It would take him half the night to get it into English.
“Enrique works for the railroad,” he continued. “His brother Pablo stays with him every time he comes to town. They have a little house down the tracks, and Pablo helps out with the rent when he’s in from the hills. Anyway, one afternoon about a week before Baker’s trial was due to start, Enrique came in from work and found Pablo dressed in new clothes, about half-loaded on whiskey, with a pocketful of dough. He wasn’t supposed to be in at all.”
Orrosco interrupted with a short burst of Spanish.
“He says it was the first time such a thing had ever happened,” Reyes explained.
“Go on,” Pelchek said.
“Pablo gave Enrique five bucks and told him to get some more booze. Then he came up here to my place. You know what happened after that.”
“Does this guy know where he got the money?”
“No, but he thinks he knows why.” Reyes moved to the desk, refilled the glasses. The men drank again.
“Seven or eight months ago Pablo came home drunk,” he went on. “About three in the morning. He’d been out to a brawl at one of the small ranches around here and got so loaded he missed his ride home and had to walk. He tried to tell Enrique something, but was too slopped up to make sense. When Enrique got home from work the next day Pablo clammed up and wouldn’t talk to anyone about it. It was the day they found Walker. Pablo left for the hills that night.”
“He thinks Pablo saw it?”
“He thinks he saw something. The direction he came from could have taken him near the Walker place. Enrique figures he came in later to spend some of the money and Romero picked him up.”
“Has he any idea where Pablo is now?”
“Just an idea.”
Orrosco interrupted again, this time in English. “Maybe he’s with sheep.” He turned to Reyes and dropped back into Spanish. When he finished, Reyes looked at Pelchek.
“He thinks like I do. That Romero picked him up and sent him back to the hills before he could talk.”
Orrosco nodded at this, eyes on Pelchek.
“Can I find out if he’s out there?” Pelchek asked.
“You might,” Reyes answered. “I’ll give you a list of the outfits he’s worked for. They cover a lot of territory, but you might be able to find him if you go in with horses and a guide who knows the country.”
“Wouldn’t he have signed on here in town?”
“They wouldn’t have let him. Too easy to trace. No, they know he could connect at half a dozen different ranches out there.”
Pelchek nodded and Reyes asked:
“You want to ask Orrosco anything more?”
“No, I guess that’s all.”
“Okay. I’ll get him started. You have the five hundred?”
“Not with me. I’ll have to go back to the Casa and cash a check. It won’t take long. Just keep him here and—”
“Never mind.” Reyes opened the large safe and pulled out a metal box. Unlocking it, he lifted out a sheaf of bills. He counted off five hundred dollars and handed the money to Orrosco, who had stood up and was waiting, hat in hand.
“You stay in Mexico. Understand? Until you hear from me.” He walked to the door and called. “Lupe! Go out front and send Benny back here!” Without waiting for an answer he turned to Pelchek. “Put the money in a plain envelope and mail it to me here. Okay?”
“First thing in the morning,” Pelchek promised. “I can get it for you tonight if you—”
“Come in!” Reyes called. A man stepped into the room. It was the bartender Pelchek had seen earlier in the day. “Benny, who’s around we can trust not to talk?” Reyes asked.
“Bobby Rios is out front.”
“Tell him to bring his car around back. He’s to pick up this man—” he pointed to Orrosco—“take him home to get his stuff, then drive him to Chihuahua. All the way. No stops for anything except gas and oil. If Bobby needs any money give it to him and tell him I’ll see him when he gets back. Tell him not to talk to anyone!” As the bartender left the office, he called after him. “Send Lupe in here!” He turned to Pelchek. “Orrosco lives in a small town near Chihuahua,” he explained. He turned to the Mexican. “Remember. Stay down there until you hear from me.” He cut short the man’s protestations when he noticed the girl standing in the doorway. “Lupe, take this man to one of the back rooms. There’ll be a car to pick him up in a few minutes.” The girl nodded and she and Orrosco left. Reyes looked over at Pelchek, who was smiling.
“You get things done, Colonel.”
Reyes looked at him for a moment, then grinned. “Better than being a foreman, huh?”
“Sure, it’s better. Come up to Milwaukee and I’ll make you general manager of my freight line.”
“Eight bills a week take-home?”
“Not quite.” Pelchek chuckled.
“Sorry,” Reyes said seriously. “I’d have to improve myself before making any changes.” He pointed to the bottle. “No? Well, I need one more before I go out front.” He poured himself a drink, looked over at Pelchek. “You’d better hang around for a few minutes and give Orrosco a chance to get out of here. It wouldn’t help if you were seen together. You can wait in here.”
“How about you? Won’t they know you’ve been talking with me?” Pelchek said.
“I’ll tell ’em you wanted some information and I threw you out.” Reyes went to the door.
“You can if you think it’ll help,” Pelchek offered.
“I don’t suppose it would fool anyone,” Reyes said. “Anyway, the hell with ’em.”
“There comes a time…?” Pelchek asked.
“Yeah. We might start something cooking, huh?”
“We just might.”
Reyes smiled slightly, left the office.
Pelchek sat on the serape-covered couch and tried to digest the information he’d just heard. How in hell was he going to find one sheepherder in the maze of hills, canyons and desert wasteland he’d seen on his way to Las Milpas? He’d ask Elena. Or even Mathewson. No, not Mathewson. You could never tell about cops. His thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door.
“Come in!”
A girl stepped in. She leaned against the door until it clicked shut. She wore a red wrapper and made no attempt to keep it about her.
“I’m Carmen. You want a woman?” Long black hair hung to her shoulders and there were beads of perspiration between firm, blue-veined breasts. Her tight, dark body was ten years younger than her face. She was smiling, but the smile didn’t extend to her eyes. She walked over until she was standing directly in front of him. In doing so, she deliberately shrugged the
single garment to the floor. She put her hands behind her head and stopped smiling.
“Well, do you want me or don’t you?”
“I’m not buying, kid,” Pelchek said.
“This is for free,” she said, looking into the wall behind him. “Al sent me in. He said you might want some company.” Her body was trembling.
“Al can sure pick company,” he said. “But not now.” He pointed to the wrapper. “You can slide back into that thing, honey. It’s nice merchandise, but not for now.” He indicated the whiskey. “Pour yourself a drink and simmer down.”
“I don’t drink when I’m working,” she said sullenly. She picked up the wrapper and put it on, pulling it around her tightly. Then she moved to where she could lean on the desk corner.
“Okay, don’t take a drink. But don’t get mad at me. I didn’t send for you.”
“I don’t take American customers.”
“So you’re safe. I’m no customer.”
“Al won’t like this.”
“That’s too goddam bad about Al! If I want to get laid I can sure as bell take care of it myself.”
“That isn’t it, mister.” Her lips twitched slightly. “He’ll think I said something about gabachos. That’s what he won’t like.”
“What’re gabachos? American customers?”
“That’s close enough.” Now a faint smile touched her carmined lips.
“Look. I’ll tell him your fine body had me panting, but there just wasn’t time. Okay?” He looked at her. “That isn’t far wrong, either.”
“Okay.” She tossed back a strand of loose hair and straightened up, the wrapper parting slightly. She poured a half-shot of whiskey and drank it. “Do you think you can get Elena’s husband off?” she asked suddenly.
“Maybe.” He looked up, surprised. “If I’m lucky.”
“I hope you’re lucky. She’s a good girl.”
“Do you know her?”
“Sure.” Enormous eyes looked wearily out of the pretty, hard face. “We were kids together,” she said simply.
“Were you the girl with Orrosco?” he asked.
“Yeah.” She paused a moment, then added rapidly, “I could tell you a few things, mister.”
“Like what?”
“Like when I get ordered to go to someone’s house.” Her lip curled momentarily.
“Someone important?”
“Maybe.”
Pelchek rose, walked over to the girl. “Why haven’t you told it before?”
“What for?” she asked.
“All right.” He took her hand and led her to the couch. “Suppose you tell me.”
She was still telling him when Reyes came and told him he could leave.
The following morning he arose early, prepared to go into town. The phone rang as he was shaving.
“Mr. Pelchek?”
“Speaking.”
“This is Frank McCreery. I’d like to see you.” The wire remained silent for a long minute.
Finally. “All right, McCreery. Where can we meet?”
“How about my office? I’ll be in all morning.”
“Okay. I can be there by ten. How do I find it?”
“Our offices are on the sixth floor of the First National Bank building. It’s the tallest building in Las Milpas. You can’t miss it.”
“I’ll be there at ten.” Pelchek hung up, finished shaving.
He ate breakfast in the Casa’s coffee shop, drove into town, and went to the bank building. It took him half an hour to establish sufficient credit to cash checks. He cashed one for five hundred dollars, made out another for five thousand. He placed the cash in a plain envelope, sealed it, and sent it by messenger to Reyes. The check, he mailed to Bartlett. At ten o’clock he walked through the double glass doors that marked the entry to Baker Land and Mining Corporation.
Frank McCreery was holding open his door as Pelchek walked down the center aisle of the large outer office. McCreery showed the visitor to a chair, then sat down behind his desk.
“I saw you come through the outer doors,” he explained diffidently. He leaned back and studied the newcomer over steepled fingers. And Pelchek studied him.
McCreery was in shirt sleeves in deference to the season, cuffs held in place by plain gold cuff links, collar secured by a carefully knotted necktie. His face and hands were an almost unhealthy-looking mahogany, the darkness contrasting with brilliant gray hair. In his late fifties or early sixties, the aquiline features and erect bearing betrayed nothing as he gazed at Pelchek. Only the faint stutterings of typewriters in the outer office intruded on the stillness.
Pelchek broke the deadlock. “You called me, McCreery. What is it?”
The man leaned forward, elbows resting on the desk top. “I’ve lived in this country a long time, Pelchek—”
“I can see that,” Pelchek interrupted. “You didn’t get that sort of tan in a few weeks.”
“It took many years,” McCreery said, a small smile touching his thin lips. “From the irrigation ditches on Baker property to this office. I’ve seen it all. But we’re not here to talk about me. I’ve some advice to give you. Whether you take it or not is up to you.”
“What is it?”
“Give it up, Pelchek. Give it up now. You won’t get anywhere, and you’ll just create more trouble for everyone involved.”
“What makes you think I won’t get anywhere?”
“The case is closed, and you’ll get no help around Las Milpas. As general manager of this corporation I can tell you our properties are off limits to you. I have that from Allen Baker, and he’s titular head of this business now.”
“Was it your suggestion, McCreery?” Pelchek asked.
“Perhaps it was,” the dark man said coolly. “At any rate, it will stand.”
“I suppose it will,” Pelchek replied, “but that only means it will take me a little longer, not stop me.” He looked at McCreery intently. “You’ve known Cal Baker since he was a kid. Have you always disliked him to the point where you’d help him die?”
“Calvin Baker forfeited any right to consideration quite some time ago,” McCreery stated flatly, lips thinned and light-brown eyes cold.
“Why? Because he married Elena Aguilar?”
McCreery didn’t answer.
“What is this thing you have with the Mexicans, McCreery? You don’t think they have a right to live?”
“I have no fight with the Mexicans.” McCreery pushed back his chair, stood up. He leaned across the desk. “They have a function with our operation and they’ve had it for a good many years. But we’ve taught them what they can expect and as long as they’re satisfied with that there’s no use changing things. They must be controlled or they’d be running over this town as if they owned it. Trying to move in where they don’t belong. That won’t happen in Las Milpas,” he said tightly. “It didn’t happen under Art Walker and it won’t happen under me.”
“Trying to move in!” Pelchek said angrily. “Why you miserable old bastard! There isn’t anyplace in this crummy town that wouldn’t be better off with Cal Baker’s wife in it.” He rose and faced the rigid figure behind the desk. “You’re a sick man, McCreery. Better watch yourself,” he said, then added, “and tell Allen Baker to stay out of my way.”
He strode from the office, leaving the dark man staring at his retreating back. He drove to the Las Milpas General to see Elena.
“Would Al help this time?” she asked as she slid into the car.
“He would and did,” he answered. “He may have helped a lot. What did you say to him?”
“I told him what Pete Romero did to me and what you did to Pete Romero. That’s all.”
“Well, it worked.” Briefly he told her what he had learned and, at the conclusion, handed her the list Reyes had given him. She studied the list for a moment, then said:
“These ranches are all in the mesa country, Steven. It’s a big area. Almost forty miles long and twenty miles wide.”
�
��We’ve got to find a man in there. At least, we hope he’s in there. Who knows that country that we can trust?” he asked.
“There’s only one person I’d trust to take you in.” The girl hadn’t hesitated a second. “My grandfather.”
“He knows it?”
“He’s walked and ridden over that country for fifty years,” she replied. “He knows every waterhole in it. You have to know it, Steven. Even today. You can get only so far by car, then you must use horses. It’s full of dead-end trails, box canyons and bad water. If this man Orrosco really wants to hide he’ll be hard to find.”
“Will your grandfather take me?”
“I’m sure he will.”
“When can you find out?”
“This afternoon, I think. I’ll borrow a car from one of the girls and go see him. He has a place about twelve miles out.”
“Okay. If he’s for it, I’ll want to see him tomorrow morning. Take the list with you and let him look it over,” he directed.
“I’ll call you the minute I get back,” she promised.
“Okay. Now, have you heard from Cal?” he asked.
“I received a special-delivery letter this morning.” She looked at him shyly. “He says for me to do anything you say.”
“Smart husband.”
“They let him know about the stay early yesterday morning, and his letter sounded awfully hopeful. When I write today I’ll tell him you were by—”
“Just leave it at that,” Pelchek broke in. “Don’t mention who I’ve seen or talked to.”
“Of course not.” She leaned back and sighed. “I feel better about the whole thing, Steven.”
“You do, huh?” He smiled down at her.
“Yes, I do! At least something is happening and Cal isn’t just sitting up there without any chance at all.”
“I guess I feel better about it, too. The odds are lousy but maybe that’s why I think there’s a chance. Besides, we’ve got one big thing in our favor.”
“What’s that?”
“We know he didn’t do it,” he said.
The girl leaned across the seat and kissed him on the cheek. Then she opened the door and got out of the car.
“I’m on duty soon, Steven. I’ll call you later on today.”