Slocum and the Bandit Cucaracha

by Jake Logan

  “What do you need me for?”

  “Information.”

  “You don’t understand. To even speak of him out loud, they will cut your throat.”

  “Who are his men?”

  “Mother of God, I only know a few, but he has spies all over.”

  “Is the man with a knife scar on his left cheek one of them?”

  “Cicatriz.”

  “Means ‘scar.’ Is he one of them?” Slocum placed a ten dollar gold piece on the table and slid it with his index finger across the table toward the man.

  Out of the tops of his eyes, Flores looked warily at him. “That could cost me my life.”

  “Yes or no?”

  “Sí, but there are others who protect this one.”

  “Why?”

  “He pays them well.”

  “How many?”

  Flores shook his head.

  “If this man is so secret, how did he raise such a large army to attack my friend’s hacienda?”

  The bar maid brought them draft beer in tall mugs and Slocum paid her.

  Nada rose up on her knees in the booth to drink hers and to listen closer to them. Before they started back in about the Cockroach, she asked Flores about Mendez Salazar.

  “Son of a rich banker in Mexico City. He is here looking for excitement. His father is so important no one would touch him. A wild, crazy boy.” Flores discounted him with a shrug.

  “What if he knows something?” she asked Slocum.

  “Too dangerous.”

  She gave a shrug and raised her mug. “So no one will give us the information of who he is? This Cockroach?”

  Flores nodded. “It is best not to mention him, for if his protectors hear you are asking, you can be in the alley in the morning with your throat cut.”

  Slocum agreed. “Someone knows who he is, but it won’t be easy to find out.”

  “What should we do?” she asked.

  “We’ll look into it in the morning.”

  “Do you have work for me?” Flores asked.

  “I want him,” Slocum said, under his breath. “We must be careful. You listen around tonight. I will meet you at the horse auction Saturday. I saw a poster on it.”

  “It is a big event.” Then Flores sipped his beer.

  “I understand many horse buyers come from a distance to attend such an event. Until then, cover your tracks,” Slocum said to the man and fiddled with his beer mug. “Anyone asks, I am a horse buyer for a rich man in Nogales.”

  “I am certain, señor, that you will find some fine horses there.”

  Slocum raised his voice too. “Gracias, señor, for your time.”

  Obviously Flores wanted someone to hear them talking business. Slocum shoved his untouched beer across the table for Flores to drink. “Good to meet you. See you at the sale, and maybe you can deliver those to the man for me if I buy any.”

  “Ah, sí, señor. And to you, my darling, gracias too.”

  Nada nodded at him.

  In minutes they were headed up the narrow street for Don Carlos’s casa. A block farther along, Slocum pulled her into a narrow alleyway and then listened.

  “Someone is coming,” she whispered.

  He nodded and drew his gun. When the person went past them, Slocum stepped out behind him. “Stop or I’ll shoot you.”

  “Huh?”

  “Shut up and get in the alley.”

  “What do you want, señor? I have little money.”

  Slocum shoved the man’s face into the wall and jerked out the man’s handgun from its holster, then handed it to Nada. “Who are you?”

  “López, Ronaldo López.”

  Slocum suspected that was a lie. “Who do you work for?”

  “I just do work for anyone who will hire me.”

  Slocum shoved him harder against the wall. “I don’t like your answers. You want your throat cut and your friends to find you in this alley tomorrow?”

  “No.”

  “Start over. Who are you?”

  “Lou Reyes.”

  “Better. Who do you work for?”

  “A man hired me.”

  “What man?”

  “I don’t know him.”

  “Bullshit. You must know everyone in this town.” Slocum shoved his face hard into the wall.

  “Oh, you broke my nose. His name is Vasquez, or something like that.”

  “Who does he work for?”

  No answer.

  “Does he work for La Cucaracha?”

  “I don’t know him.”

  Slocum slammed the butt of his six-gun down onto the man’s right shoulder. The man cried out sharply as the blow drove him to his knees. He began sobbing.

  “Shut up or I will cut your throat. Does he work for the Cockroach?”

  “Sí. Don’t hit me anymore.”

  “You know that when he finds out you told me, you are a marked man.”

  Between sobs, the man said, “Sí.”

  Still gripping a handful of the top of his shirt, Slocum shoved him facedown on the ground. “Then you better go find or steal a horse and ride out of here or else you will be dead. And if you follow me ever again, you really will die.”

  “Oh, my shoulder is broken.” The man moaned, gripping his shoulder with his hand.

  “Better than your throat cut. Now get out of town.”

  “I am going. I am going.” The man crawled on the ground until he figured he was far enough away not to get struck again, then he climbed to his feet and left, holding his right arm to his chest.

  “You get a look at him?” Slocum asked Nada.

  “Not a good one, but he was nobody.”

  “Tracking us.” He took the man’s cap and ball pistol from her and stuck it in his waistband. “Let’s get going. I think that is all the company we’ll get tonight.”

  “I hope so. That scared me to death.”

  “You have lived a sheltered life in the mountains. In this village men are rough on putas for no reason at all.”

  She nodded that she heard him. When he looked around, he saw only the staggering coward who had been trailing them as he hurried away toward the square. The coast looked clear, and they left, walking quickly, for his amigo’s casa.

  There were many things going on in this place. Slocum simply did not have them all figured out. If they were holding Martina here—where exactly was she?

  9

  An armed man cracked open the gate for them. In the shadowy light, his face opened as he recognized Slocum. “Donna said you’d be returning tonight.”

  “Thanks. Is my amigo Don Carlos back yet?” Slocum asked.

  “No, and I think she is upset that he is not here. She is awake in the house.”

  “Gracias.”

  “She must have been expecting him,” Nada said, close at his side as they moved along the walkway in the light of a few Chinese lamps.

  “We’ll ask her,” he said under his breath to her.

  She agreed with a nod and went inside the house with him.

  “You are still up?” Slocum asked when Donna sprang from the chair.

  She swept her salt-and-pepper hair back from her face. “I must have fallen asleep. Did you learn anything?”

  “Oh, bits and pieces. You are concerned about Don Carlos?”

  She made a peeved face. “Oh, I always worry about something. But he usually rides in when he tells me he will. Sometimes a day later.” She made a face that showed she understood about the distractions there were for men and continued, “He was due here twenty-four hours ago. I said nothing because, like I said, he can be detained.”

  “Where did he go?”

  “To check on some mining operations is all he said.”

  “He has several of those?”

  “Yes, and some partnerships as well.”

  “If I went looking for him, where would I start?”

  For a second, a flush of concern crossed her face. “Oh, he might get angry with me if I sent you up there.”


  “I can save you that. Let me catch a few hours’ sleep, and then I’ll ride up there and see about him.”

  She chewed on her lower lip and at last agreed.

  “Get me up in four hours and I’ll go see if I can find him.”

  “Sí. I really am concerned.”

  He hugged her shoulder. “I’ll find him.”

  “Over breakfast I will have Chavez tell you where we think he went.”

  “That would help. Get some sleep.”

  He knew she wouldn’t, but it sounded good anyway. With Nada under his arm, Slocum headed for their room. When the door was closed behind them, she stood on her toes. “Gracias for taking me with you tonight. I wish I could be more help to you.”

  He hung up his holster on a hat tree, watching her unbutton her dress before him in the flickering light. She let her dress fall to the floor, and then she stepped over it to hug him. “You be careful.”

  He kissed her, toeing off his boots. “You are hard company to leave. But stay here at the casa and be careful. They could find out you are with me and might think you know something.”

  “I will be here. Do you have time for us?”

  His pants off, he swept her up. “Of course.” He dropped her on the feather bed, then shed his hat and shirt. “I always have time for you.”

  “Ah, hombre, you are the one.” She scooted the covers out from under her back and kicked them to the foot of the bed, holding out her arms for him to mount her.

  “I need nothing but you in me,” she whispered. “That is like lightning to me.”

  He saddled himself in on top of her and found that she was ready. The gates were already lubricated for him, and she raised her butt off the bed to accept all of him. Her arms wrapped around him, and she squeezed him inside and out.

  “Oh, oh, my hombre, you are too good to be real. . . .”

  Slocum was locked in sleep when someone knocked on the door a few hours later. He rose, still fuzzy-headed, to sit on the edge of the bed, and Nada tackled him from behind. “I am coming to have breakfast with you.”

  “Good. It might brighten my day.”

  “Oh, I could do that.”

  “Sorry. Don’t have time.” His pulled on his pants and his boots.

  She laughed. “I know, I know.”

  “You stay right here. This is a safe place.”

  “Oh, I will. I will.”

  “Good.”

  “I know you have been thinking about this one they call La Cucaracha. Who is he?”

  “Kind of like smoke, ain’t he?”

  “No one talks about him either.”

  Slocum agreed. It had him puzzled. Most Mexican chiefs of movements and armies were very apparent. This one was unseen, and they kept it that way by killing anyone who spoke out about him, or even asked.

  Slocum and Nada hurried through the hallways to breakfast. Donna was standing there prim and proper, just as he expected. She had never slept a wink.

  “This is Chavez,” Donna said. “He can tell you where we think Don Carlos went.”

  “I can ride with you, señor,” said the man, who looked to be in his forties.

  “No, this place must be secure first. I can find Don Carlos, unless the earth swallowed him.”

  Chavez nodded and blew on his coffee. “He was to go to the Ruby Mine first and see about some problems they are having with timbers.”

  “I know that mine.”

  “Then he mentioned the mine in Oro Canyon.”

  “He having trouble there?”

  Chavez shrugged. “Have you been to that mine?”

  Slocum nodded his thanks to the girl who brought his heaping plate of breakfast. “No, but I have been to Oro Canyon.”

  “From this direction, after you get to Oro Canyon it’s in on the right about halfway to the trailhead that goes out of the Madres.”

  “The one they use for hauling ore-loaded mule trains to Silver City, New Mexico.”

  “Sí, you can’t miss it.”

  “Gracias,” Slocum said and began eating his breakfast.

  “I have put some jerky, ground corn and brown sugar mix in your saddlebags, some raisins, extra matches, a slicker and a thin bedroll wrapped in canvas, a small axe. Is there anything else?”

  “Canteens?”

  “Two filled with water.”

  “Sounds wonderful,” he managed between bites.

  “I hope he comes in today,” Donna said.

  “So do I. Chavez, tell me what you know about this outlaw, the Cockroach.”

  “I hear a few things.” The man shook his head. “But I don’t know who he is. Maybe he is two or three men.”

  “Whoa. You think he’s more than one person?”

  Chavez turned up his callused palms. “I have wondered about it.”

  Slocum turned to Nada. “What do you think?”

  “Makes good sense, huh?”

  “Yes, why didn’t I think about that before?”

  She shrugged and grinned. “You had not got that far.”

  They all laughed.

  The Ruby Mine was four hours or more away. When he left the village under the stars, Slocum made certain no one was following him by reining off the road and waiting in a turpentine-smelling grove of pines for fifteen minutes or so. Then, satisfied no one was trailing him, he trotted the bald-faced horse to the north. Out of nowhere, Angela’s abrupt departure and McCarty’s three ranch hands waiting at St. Francis came to his mind. There still were some days left before he had promised to get back to them. Perhaps they had learned something more about this Cockroach.

  The Ruby Mine took its name from the man who first discovered the gold vein. Don Carlos came in as an investor, and Ruby made enough money to sell out and go live in Veracruz with some putas in a fancy castle. But Ruby’s transition to a settled life had been a little bumpy. He’d lived too long on the wild Mexican frontier to really become a part of that rich society. Besides publicly scratching his crotch when it itched, he’d once whipped his dong out to show some very fancy ladies what they were missing by not having an affair with him. One was the wife of a very high official in the government. She had fainted at the sight of his huge dick, then, behind her husband’s back, started calling her husband “Little Peter.” But last Slocum heard of him, Ruby threw his own parties and the fancy folk avoided them.

  Slocum spoke to the mine superintendent, a man called Vincennes, who told him that Don Carlos had ridden on to the Oro Canyon operation two days earlier. After thanking him, Slocum headed out. Oro Canyon was a good ways farther up the road, but he pushed on and arrived at the front gate in the middle of the night. A sleepy guard with a rifle refused him entrance and told him to come back when the mine was open.

  Slocum swung around on Baldy and headed back south. After a quarter mile, he turned off the road and hobbled his mountain horse out of sight, then made his way around back under the stars and came in on the small buildings that were the offices for the mine. He tried the back door of the main office and discovered that it was unlocked. In the starlight coming through a front window, he saw three people bound and gagged on the floor.

  “Don’t make a sound,” Slocum whispered, using his jackknife to cut the woman loose first.

  “Oh, I am so glad you found us,” she whispered hoarsely as she shook the rest of the ropes loose.

  “What happened here?” he asked, busily cutting the bindings on the second person, a young man.

  “Several men took over the mine four days ago. They began to load two pack trains of mules with rich ore over the last two days, and today they set out with it.”

  “Gracias, señor,” the young man said.

  “How long have you been tied?” Slocum asked.

  “A day anyway,” the young man said, heading for the door.

  Slocum jumped up and caught him. “You can’t go out there. Where are you headed?”

  “I’ve got to piss!”

  “Piss in the corner over there. S
he won’t look.” Slocum looked at the woman for a confirming nod, then continued, “There’re still damn guards they left here.”

  The third man, after he was untied and the gag was taken from his mouth, looked obviously shaken in the poor light. He bore a wound where someone had hit him on the forehead—possibly with a piece of pipe or a gun barrel—and the blood had dried on his face.

  “Where is Don Carlos?”

  “I think at my casa,” said the older man, who was apparently the mine boss.

  “Keep your voices down.”

  The older man agreed and then shook his head as if all was lost. “To be sure, they are already over the pass with those mules and gold. It’s too late to stop them.”

  “Lead the way to the house. We must find Don Carlos first before we worry about that the ore. Do either of you have a gun?” he asked the younger man and the woman.

  “There is one in the desk drawer,” the woman said. “It is loaded. I don’t think they took it.”

  Slocum told the younger man to get it. She went instead.

  “Can you use a gun?” Slocum asked the young man.

  The man swallowed hard. “I am not sure.”

  “I can,” the woman said.

  “Good. Take out that guard down at the road. I don’t care if you shoot him or whatever. Then hide, so if there are more of them, they won’t find you.”

  “Where are you going, señor?” the woman asked.

  “Me and the boss are going to find Don Carlos. Alive or dead.”

  “Oh, I hope he is all right.”

  “I hope so too. Be quiet and take that guard out. Then you must hide like I said,” Slocum made clear to them.

  “Sí,” they replied. Then the woman and the young man left the office and headed toward the gate.

  Slocum and the older man headed for the casa. There was a light on inside the residence, and they stole up alongside the building. Slocum, with his .44 in his fist, got to a window and could see the bedraggled-looking Don Carlos tied up in a high-backed wooden chair. Thank God he was alive.

  “Untie him,” Slocum told his companion and went to find the outlaws.

  There was a pistol shot behind them from the direction of the gate, then another. Two men he had heard talking beyond the door jumped up and ran to the front door.

  “Delo, what’s going on?” one of them shouted.