by Jake Logan
“I am fine,” she said. “I bet you have some food in the house so I don’t have to cook for these hombres.”
“Of course, of course. Where are my manners? That was what I came out to do, invite you into my casa to feed you and the men.”
“We will go around back,” Obregón said. “We have the stock to put up.”
“Sí, my men will help you,” Strycker said. “You two come on inside,” he said to Slocum and Angela. “I was concerned that you would walk into their trap.”
Slocum shook his head. “Not very likely. Those three men with us know how to fight their way.”
“They must be very brave to follow you.” He turned to the older woman who ran his kitchen. “Pour them some wine and serve the food.”
“Sí, patrón,” she said and with a short bow and hurried off to get their plates.
The meal smelled delicious as the young girls served the steaming food on the table. How Strycker knew that they were coming, Slocum wasn’t certain, but his plans were working out well.
The flank steak proved so tender that Slocum could cut it with a fork. The aroma of the mesquite-wood flavoring seduced him. He began wrapping some of the meat in a great flour tortilla, and his solid teeth about floated out of his gums at the mesquite-smoke flavor. There were dishes of steaming hot refried beans, black beans, rice, fried onions and sweet peppers, plus several different varieties of hot peppers. Fresh flour tortillas kept coming from the kitchen like telegrams—hot and ready.
Their wine goblets were refilled by a special servant in charge. Some musicians played classical Spanish music, and a young woman whirled across the floor, clacking castanets and her heels on the tile floor.
“I wonder where she came from,” Slocum said to Angela under his breath.
She gave him a very short nod. “I think she came from the border.”
“I simply wondered if she works for Salazar. You think she does?” he whispered. “She is attractive and looks healthy enough.”
Angela made sure no one could hear her talking to Slocum. “Maybe.”
“Really?”
She managed to say, “They can hire anyone they want.”
Slocum excused himself and went to speak to his three men. He found them eating outside of the kitchen.
“Have you seen any of those bandits here tonight?” he asked them, squatting down close to where they sat on empty crates.
Obregón said, “Their camp is not so far.”
Cherrycow added, “It’s less than an hour’s ride from here.”
“Sí. No farther,” Obregón agreed.
“Good. We ride at midnight. A good show of force tonight may be enough to dislodge them.”
The men nodded.
“We will be ready,” Obregón promised.
“Leave our supplies here. Later we can come back for them.”
“Good, then we can move faster,” Jesús said, sounding relieved.
The matter settled, Slocum studied the sundown bleeding in the western sky as he headed for the back door of the big house. Time for a few hours’ rest. This attack would be step one in his charge to bust up La Cucaracha and his control on the mountain people.
“Strycker said we should sleep in a bed tonight.” Angela met him returning.
“I guess we can trust him for a few hours’ sleep.”
Angela led him through the kitchen and down the side hall to the room assigned to them.
Once inside, they both scrambled in an instant into each other’s arms. Her hungry mouth on his and a new whirling inside his brain took them like a tornado to the side of the bed.
In minutes they coupled on top of the bed, his swollen erection stoking her fury. Their breathing was heavy and the ache in his dick sought relief in the tight muscular confines of her womanhood—he pounded her harder.
With her mouth wide open, gasping for more breath, small moans of pleasure escaped her throat as she hunched her hips toward him for more. Passion’s heat soon slicked their bellies in sweat. He thrust harder and harder until at last he felt the sharp pains of fire in his scrotum. He pressed deep and inside her tight core, ready to explode. Cold chills ran down his facial muscles as the last strength of their furious lovemaking dissolved into mild waves. He kissed her hard.
Sweeping the hair back from her blanched face, she laughed softly. “Strycker thinks we will stay here all night.”
“Good. If that’s what the Cockroach’s spies think too, their plans won’t work to get us in broad daylight on the trail.”
The time for their departure began early. Slocum knew they needed an element of surprise to take the outlaws and to be certain none of them escaped to warn their leader. The men were silent as they rode west, save for the soft plod of horse hooves in the road dust and an occasional cough of a horse or his rider.
Obregón had told Slocum that a few of the outlaws up there in the camp waiting for them were the best and toughest pistoleros that worked for any man. Cherrycow described to him how their setup was in the junipers. The bandits might be scattered about, sleeping under them to be ready, but Slocum’s crew could find them by starlight.
Slocum told them to quietly collect all the bandits’ horses so none could escape to warn the bandits’ leader in the mountains that something was wrong. The ride under the stars went well. Far short of the bandits’ camp, they dismounted and advanced on foot. Each man bore a rifle, loaded to the gate, and they spread out as they moved in.
They found the outlaws’ horses hitched on a picket rope and sleeping. Quietly they led the horses off, so if any of the outlaws did escape, their mounts would not be where they left them. With the horses hidden, Slocum told Angela to stay with them until things were resolved. She agreed, and he waved his men forward.
The word passed down the line that one sleeping outlaw had been spotted. The whack of a rifle butt to the bandit’s head, and there were no more sounds. Quickly their unconscious captive’s arms and legs were bound and he was gagged, then they moved on. Near the smoldering fire ring, Slocum found several men asleep in peaceful rest save for some loud snoring. Each of his men, armed with a large knife, quickly silenced any protest. Several were killed immediately. The rest they hog-tied and gagged with their own kerchiefs, then sat them on the ground guarded by Jesús. The others were sought by Slocum and his other two men.
Obregón came back after a few minutes of checking around. “I think no one escaped, Slocum.”
“Good.”
“They were so sure of themselves they had no guards.”
“What should we do with them?” Jesús asked.
“We can take their money, horses and boots, and tell them next time we see them we will kill them. Or we can shoot them when the sun comes up. Obregón, find their leader and get him out here.”
“How will we decide what to do?”
“We can take a vote.”
Satisfied they had all of the bandits, Obregón went among them until he had located the man in charge and dragged him by the collar back to Slocum.
“This one is the leader.” Obregón removed his gag. “Tell him who you are.”
“Franko, señor. We are all poor men with families. There was nothing we could do but follow his orders to ambush you. We are sorry, but these men have children and women who will be alone without them.”
“What should we do with them?” Slocum asked his gathered men. Angela joined them as well.
“Just let them walk home,” Obregón said.
The nod of heads around the circle of his men showed the vote.
“Mother of God, I thank you,” Franko said aloud.
“Why not give them to the army as prisoners?” Angela asked quietly.
They didn’t have the time, and besides, Slocum wouldn’t consider such a move. “Our men have little use for them.”
She agreed.
Slocum sent Jesús back to Strycker’s Hacienda for the pack animals and told him to join them as quickly as possible.
They ate breakfast, left some food for their prisoners, then took the men’s horses, guns and money. The outlaws had very little left but perhaps a knife and a few staples. Before the sun was above the eastern horizon, Slocum and his men trotted west for the Madres. Cherrycow and Obregón rode ahead. They took the loose horses and knew Jesús would soon rejoin them with their pack animals. The army marched on.
“By the time they walk back to the Madres, they will have thought about this deal a lot,” she said.
Slocum agreed.
Midday they watered their animals at a small settlement, and Slocum bought some grain for all of them, so they had no need to stop to let the horses graze. The feeding required some time, however, because they didn’t have enough nose bags for all the horses at one time. Soon they were all on their way, but not without many suspicious eyes watching them and no doubt wondering what had happened to the bandits sent to murder them.
Under way again, they pressed on for the town of Cuervo. Slocum planned to draw up short of the village, and he sent his scouts ahead after telling them his plans. While waiting for his scouts to return, he felt anxious and his belly cramped while riding along with Angela, and he began to feel deeply concerned about how his plan for the whole thing would work out.
“You didn’t need any of Hans Strycker’s men to back you up,” she said with a head toss.
Slocum agreed. “I did not want the poor man involved later on in any revenge caused by our raid.”
She agreed with a nod. “We are making good time.”
“Yes,” he agreed. “We can rest in the foothills where it will be cooler too.”
“I understand. Don’t worry about me.”
“I sometimes feel guilty hauling you around on such dangerous missions.”
She smiled and tossed her hair back. “I would hate to miss them.”
“I understand. But this is war, and if anything happens to you, I’d be responsible.”
“I simply want to be with you. Don’t fret.” She winked wickedly at him.
Her companionship and warmth made him feel better in the boiling dust that their horses’ hooves churned up. His eyes burned watching the heat waves dazzle the distant mountains. Soon this would all be over.
18
Slocum veered to the south, taking another entry into the vast Sierra Madres. He sold the extra horses, too cheap, to a rancher who needed them. Jesús was grateful, because herding and feeding so many animals was lots of extra work for him. Slocum shared the proceeds from the sale with his men, and they rested one day in the foothills. The place they stayed was a grassy valley with a fresh stream out of the Madres to bathe in. Everyone’s spirits had risen, and they were going into the mountains the next day.
Midafternoon, when all but Obregón and Cherrycow, who were scouting ahead, were taking a siesta, Slocum heard a hard-pressed horse galloping toward their camp and soon saw Obregón on his bay splashing through the stream. He grabbed his sombrero and rushed to meet him.
“What’s wrong?”
“Mendez Salazar and his men are up there in the village of Los Piñones. They are drunk, raping women and children—shooting men who object.”
“Why are they there?”
“Some of his men have told the villagers they planned to surprise and kill you.”
“How did he get word we were taking this route?”
Obregón turned up his palms. “I have no idea.”
Disgusted by the turn of this event, Slocum needed to know how to use this twist for their advantage. “Where is Cherrycow?”
“Scouting the place for more information.”
“Salazar is with these men?”
“Sí, he is not hiding anymore.”
“He had the same idea I had to use this trail. How many men does he have with him?”
“Hard to tell. Maybe a dozen.”
“Get ready, we need to take out as many as we can tonight. Drunk or pussy crazy, they will be vulnerable.”
“Sí,” Obregón agreed.
“Where is he staying? Salazar?” Slocum’s mind listed his needs as he sorted out the operation ahead.
“In a large casa in the village.”
“Good, this time he can’t run too far.”
“What is wrong?” Angela asked, hurrying over and tossing her hair from her face.
“Our man is only miles from here. Planning to come out and get us.”
“So?” She searched both of their faces. “What now?”
“While they are drunk and partying tonight, we will strike and get them.”
She nodded. “Good.”
Half an hour later, every man was armed and ready. They rode for the village. They met Cherrycow on the road and then divided into pairs. Slocum felt his men would not be recognized in the dark and doubted many of the bandits knew them.
After sundown, they filtered into the village like a small group simply traveling through. Obregón paid a young puta to lure the man he thought was Salazar’s captain into the alley. Once the man was outside in the dark, they conked him on the head, and then Slocum and Obregón dragged him off to a small jacal. Angela remained outside with the girl as lookouts.
“What is your name?” Slocum demanded as the man came around moaning, hands and feet tied on the cot, the candlelight bathing his angry face.
“Who—” Obregón’s sharp knife blade on his jugular vein silenced him.
“Lower your voice or you won’t live.”
“Julio.”
“Where is your patrón?”
“I don’t—”
“You better know, ’cause your chicken neck depends on it.”
“At—the casa—I guess.”
“How many guards are there?”
“Four.”
“How many men do you have?”
“Thirty.”
“You lie. I counted the horses,” Cherrycow said.
“Fifteen.”
“Better.” Obregón turned to Slocum. “What else do we need?”
“When did you plan to ride to kill us?” Slocum asked the man.
“Tomorrow.”
Slocum considered their plans, then he nodded. Obregón made a slicing sign at his own throat. Slocum agreed. The number two man was gone. They dragged his limp body out and concealed it behind another jacal.
Angela soon joined him. “What happened?”
Slocum shook his head to indicate he’d explain later. “Tell that girl we need her to lure another one out here.”
“She’s scared to death.”
“Better to be afraid than dead. Tell her these men have killed others in the village, but we won’t let them kill her.”
Angela agreed and went back to hug the girl’s shoulders. The teenager must have been good at her business, for in the next hour she lured three more hired guns outside and they were eliminated. Jesús and Cherrycow soon joined them. They had personally taken care of some of Salazar’s men and gotten a couple of the real bad guys. Slocum thanked them, and then a commotion up the alley made them quiet down.
Two men were arguing over price with an older puta. Obregón headed in that direction, and Slocum made Angela get against the wall. A muffled gunshot sounded, and one of the bandits crumpled to the ground. The second tried to run, but one of Slocum’s men clubbed him down with his gun butt. By then Slocum had the woman by the arm.
“Do you know the casa where this bandit leader hides?”
“Sí, señor.” She was trembling.
“We are your friends. We want this bastard who leads these men.”
She bobbed her head up and down rapidly. “I can show you the way.”
They made the street crossing and into the next alley without drawing any notice. Several of the enemy were raising hell in the cantinas they passed. But Slocum wanted to get his hands on Salazar.
They climbed a steep hill and in the starlight, the whitewashed walls showed that the lighted grounds were well cared for. Moving beside the heavily perfumed woman, Sloc
um caught her arm. “Hold up. How do we get inside?”
“Go right through the kitchen. The women working in there are very upset. His men raped too many of the young girls there when they first came here.”
Angela, coming on his heels, agreed with her. “We came at a good time.”
Inside the kitchen, where the women were preparing for breakfast, their dark eyes looked shocked at the sight of the men, but when the puta put her finger to her lips, they did the same to each other.
“This man is here to take out those bastardos.”
“Where is he?” Slocum asked.
“Top floor upstairs. There are no locks.” An older women with her hands white with flour gave a head toss. “Straight ahead up there.”
Pistol in hand, Slocum told Angela to stay in the kitchen, then he rushed across the great room to start up the open staircase. A man burst out of a room upstairs and fired a shot that made Slocum duck down on the steps.
Boiling, acrid gun smoke filled the two-story room, obscuring Slocum’s view of the man’s face, and Slocum could hear the man escaping down some back steps. Slocum changed course and ran to the rear of the house, bursting out into the starlit garden to take a shot at a running figure. But he missed. His intended victim jumped over the railing and was gone again. His boot heels clacked on the flat flagstone walk through what Slocum considered a garden—he was in hot pursuit.
If the one he followed was Salazar, he was not losing any time trying to get away. At the gate Slocum took two shots at the fleeing figure. Neither stopped him, so he must have missed again. He reloaded his Colt.
“Where did he go?” the out-of-breath Obregón asked, catching up with him.
“Down in that live oak somewhere. I must have missed him. Get the others. He’ll have to come out. How did the rest do in town?”
“The bandits left are holed up in the jail. Do you want us to charge it?”
“Don’t risk any of our men’s lives. Blow the damn thing up.”
“Sí. What about the man who ran off?”
“We’ll get him too . . . later.” He studied the live oak thicket in the ambient light of predawn. “Bring some of those blasting sticks you have left up here. We may just bring him out of there with them.”