Braddock considered that for a moment. He certainly couldn’t rule out the possibility of his luck finally running out.
“The Rio Grande is north of here,” he said, pointing again. “There are farms on both sides of it where good people will take you in and help you return to your home. I would take you there myself, but there are other things I have to do tonight.”
“More killing?” the young woman said.
“More than likely.”
One of the older women stepped forward and asked, “Why are you doing these things and risking your life for us, señor? You are a gringo, are you not?”
“That doesn’t matter,” Braddock said. “There are bad men on both sides of the river, and it’s my job to deal with them.”
He reached into the hidden pocket on his gunbelt and brought out the silver star in a silver circle, the emblem of the Texas Rangers. In this poor light, the women might not be able to see the bullet hole in the center of the badge, but they could make out enough detail to recognize what it was. Braddock heard several of them murmuring about Texas devils.
Let them think whatever they wanted about him. It didn’t change what he had to do.
“Señor,” the young woman said as Braddock put away the badge. “There was one other kept here for a time...a friend of mine...Her name is Carmen.”
“I know her,” Braddock said with a nod.
“Then you know where she is? They took her, and we all believed we would never see her again.”
“I know where she is,” Braddock said, “and I plan to set her free before the night’s over.”
Chapter 27
Thoughts tumbled crazily through Braddock’s head during the swift ride back to the border.
Probably the first thing Hernandez would do when the guard reached him with the news of the attack on the mission was to send men galloping back down there to make sure the prisoners actually were gone.
When they returned to Juarez and confirmed that, Hernandez would be livid. He would believe Palmer had discovered where the women and girls were being held, then decided to double-cross him and grab the prisoners without trading the stolen rifles for them. That way Palmer could sell the rifles to someone else and get a new supply of whores, too.
If Braddock’s theory about the arrangement between Palmer and Hernandez being an ongoing one was correct, the double-cross idea wouldn’t stand up to prolonged scrutiny.
Braddock had a hunch Hernandez might be too furious for any such scrutiny, though. In the heat of the moment, he would want to strike back at the man he believed had betrayed him.
He would go after Palmer.
It had to be tonight, too, if Braddock’s plan was going to work. If Hernandez waited until the morning and investigated further around the old mission, he or his men would see the prints Braddock had left and realize there had been only one attacker. Braddock could only hope Hernandez was more impulsive than that.
Instead of riding directly through the middle of Juarez, Braddock circled around the bordertown and swam the horse across the Rio Grande a short distance downstream. He stuck to the back streets as he made his way toward Casa de Palmer.
When he reached the place, he left the horse in the alley behind the building. He wondered briefly what had happened to the pistolero he had “borrowed” the horse from. He might never know, Braddock thought, so he put the question out of his mind.
A set of rear stairs beckoned him. If he strode openly into the saloon, he might encounter Wilcox, who would surely try to gun him down before he could reach Palmer. Braddock wasn’t afraid to match his speed against that of Wilcox, but putting the rest of his plan in motion mattered more than settling any personal grudges.
Palmer probably had guards on the second floor to protect him, although Braddock hadn’t seen any on his previous visit. As he started up the stairs, he knew he needed to be careful anyway.
When he reached the landing, he tried the door and found it unlocked. A place like Casa de Palmer just about had to have a discreet way in and out, because some of the patrons wouldn’t want to be seen coming and going, especially if they were conducting “upstairs” business. Braddock’s right hand hovered over the butt of the Colt while he used his left to open the door. He stepped inside quickly.
A couple of gas lamps in holders on the wall cast a dim light in the rear hallway. The doors along both sides of the corridor were closed, but Braddock couldn’t count on them staying that way. Palmer’s soiled doves entertained their customers in those rooms.
Some of the women Braddock had freed from the cellar at the old mission would have wound up here, he thought. And those were the lucky ones, the more attractive ones. The less fortunate would have been forced to toil in even worse places.
At the far end, the hall made a ninety-degree turn to the left. Palmer’s suite was located in the front part of the building in that far corner, Braddock recalled, somewhat isolated from the whores’ section.
Braddock walked quickly along the corridor, his steps muffled by the carpet runner. If any of the doors opened, he would just keep his head down and move on, as if he’d concluded any business he had up here and was on his way back downstairs for a drink or a hand or two of poker before calling it a night.
No one emerged from any of the rooms during the thirty seconds or so it took him to walk to the other end of the hall. He heard noises coming from behind some of those doors, but nothing out of the ordinary.
When he reached the corner, he paused to take a look around it. There was the door to Palmer’s suite he remembered, no more than forty feet away from him.
But between Braddock and the suite, a tough-looking hombre sat in a ladderback chair with his right ankle cocked on his left knee as he smoked a quirley. The only reason for him to be there was to guard the entrance to the suite.
He looked fully capable of doing that, too, with broad shoulders, a slab of a beard-stubbled jaw, a long-barreled, .44-caliber Remington holstered on his hip, and a double-barreled shotgun leaning against the wall beside him.
Braddock didn’t recall seeing the man during his visit to Casa de Palmer the previous night, so there was a good chance the man hadn’t seen him, either, and wouldn’t recognize him. Braddock could approach him, pretending to be a customer returning from one of the whores’ rooms. The question was whether the guard would realize he hadn’t seen Braddock come upstairs and go around the corner with any of the soiled doves. Braddock had no way of knowing how long the man had been sitting there at his post or how good his memory was, but it was a definite potential risk.
A risk, Braddock knew, that had to be run, because he had to reach Shadrach Palmer before all hell broke loose.
He put the sort of leering grin on his face that a man would wear after a successful visit to the second floor of Casa de Palmer and ambled around the corner, turning toward the guard. The man sat up straighter and moved a hand toward the Greener as he regarded Braddock with a narrow-eyed gaze.
Braddock just grinned even bigger and stupider at him.
The guard grunted and seemed to relax. He didn’t pick up the shotgun. Braddock kept moving and gave the man a friendly nod.
“Howdy,” he said.
The guard started to say something, probably a return greeting, but then his eyes abruptly narrowed again. Braddock saw suspicion spring to life in them.
Too late. Braddock had come within reach, and his fist shot out in a powerful blow that landed on the guard’s jaw.
It felt about like punching a slab of rock, but it jerked the guard’s head to the side and knocked him off the chair. As he went down, Braddock leaped closer, pulled out his Colt, and slammed it against the guard’s head to finish the job of knocking him out.
The brief scuffle had made a little noise, but maybe not enough to be heard in Palmer’s suite. Braddock couldn’t leave the man lying there to be discovered and cause a commotion, so he pouched his iron, stooped, got hold of the senseless guard under the arms, and hauled
him upright.
Pain jabbed into Braddock’s side where the bullet from Wilcox’s derringer had ripped through him twenty-four hours earlier. The wounds were probably bleeding again, but there was nothing Braddock could do about that now.
One way or another, this would be over tonight, he thought, and he could get some proper medical attention then—if he was still alive to need it.
He propped the guard up and held him with one arm while he used his other hand to twist the doorknob. It turned, and he shoved open the door to Palmer’s suite. Braddock lurched through the entrance, taking the guard with him, and then dumped the man on the thick rug on the sitting room floor as he heeled the door shut behind him. His right hand dropped to the gun and slid it from the holster in case Wilcox was in here.
The room had only one occupant, though, and she gasped as she shrank back agains the divan cushions. The silk dressing gown she wore hung open almost to the waist, revealing a lot of smooth, curving, swelling flesh.
“George?” Palmer’s mistress Elise said as she stared at him. “What in the world are you doing here?”
Then her rich brown eyes widened even more as she stared down the barrel of Braddock’s Colt.
Chapter 28
“Where’s Palmer?” Braddock asked, his voice sharp.
“George, I...I don’t understand. Dex Wilcox said you disappeared, that something must have happened to you—”
“Is Palmer here?”
“No, he...he’s downstairs, I think...”
Two glasses, each with a little bit of wine in it, sat on a small table next to the divan. Braddock glanced at them, then asked, “Is Wilcox in the bedroom?”
“What?” Elise’s eyes widened even more. “You think Wilcox and I...how dare you! I would never betray Shad like that. What makes you think I would?”
“There are two glasses.”
“Left from when Shad and I had drinks earlier.”
He couldn’t tell if she lied. He never had been able to read women as well as he could men. He motioned with the revolver’s barrel and said, “Go over there and open that door.”
She glared at him for a second, then pouted. “I won’t. You’ve insulted me.”
“I can knock you out like him—” Braddock nodded toward the unconscious man on the floor. “—and then go see for myself, if that’s what you want.”
“You wouldn’t,” she said, her voice as frigid as a blue norther.
He probably wouldn’t, Braddock realized, but he didn’t say anything and kept his face hard as stone.
After a few more seconds, Elise blew out an exasperated breath and said, “All right. If I have to show you before you’ll believe me...”
She stood up, not being too careful about it so the dressing gown gaped even more, and went over to the bedroom door. She threw it open and stepped back, waving a hand to indicate Braddock should take a look.
“You first,” he told her.
Elise walked into the room, turned around to face him, and spread her arms. Braddock ignored all the charms on display and stepped through the door, checking to right and left.
The two of them were the bedroom’s only occupants. Braddock stepped over to a large wardrobe and opened it, saw only clothes.
“Are you going to look under the bed like the cuckolded husband in some melodrama?” Elise asked.
“Should I?”
She made that exasperated sound again and pulled the duvet up around the bed. Braddock could see under it without having to bend over.
“Are you satisfied now?”
“I reckon. When do you expect Palmer back up here?”
“I have no idea. He owns this place. He comes and goes as he pleases.”
“And he owns you, too, I suppose.”
Braddock wasn’t sure why he said that. Maybe he just wanted to put a burr under her saddle because of her attitude.
“No one owns me,” Elise said in a low, menacing voice. “Least of all Shadrach Palmer. I’m here for my own benefit, not his.”
“All right,” Braddock said. “I suppose since we’re clear about everything, we can talk civilly now. Did you hear the conversation when Palmer talked to Wilcox last night, after Wilcox got back from Juarez?”
“Why should I tell you anything?”
Braddock figured he would get farther by appealing to her mercenary instincts, rather than any other approach, so he said, “Because Palmer’s in trouble, he just doesn’t know it yet.”
“Shad is in danger?”
“He could well be.” Braddock told the truth as far as it went, although Braddock himself represented the biggest danger to Palmer right now.
Elise studied him for a moment longer, then pulled the gown closed and tightened the belt around her waist.
“Wilcox came up here to talk to Shad. He told Shad how you killed Larkin and he killed Larkin’s two men.”
“Wilcox said he killed Larkin’s men.”
“That’s right.”
Braddock let that pass. Wilcox had figured he could get away with claiming credit for those two shootings, because he wasn’t expecting Braddock to show up again. But it didn’t really matter.
“What else?”
“He said you wanted to stop at another cantina and told him to come on back and tell Shad what happened. He claimed you said you’d be along later. So Wilcox did what you asked. Only you never showed up today. Shad sent Wilcox back to the other cantina, and the people there claimed they had never seen you. Shad was upset when Wilcox told him, but Wilcox said you must have been jumped and robbed. He said you might be lying dead in an alley or floating in the Rio Grande.” Elise shrugged. “It happens all the time in Juarez.”
“So he thinks he got away with it,” Braddock murmured.
“Got away with what?” Elise asked.
Braddock stiffened as he heard the sound of a gun being cocked behind him, and then Shadrach Palmer said, “That’s what I’d like to know. What are you trying to get away with, George?”
Chapter 29
Braddock cursed himself silently for not hearing Palmer come into the room. He had been concentrating on what Elise told him, and Palmer must have been quiet about it. If he had come along and seen the guard missing from the hall outside the suite, that would have made him suspicious.
The situation was even worse than that, Braddock saw as he looked over his shoulder.
Dex Wilcox stood a little behind and to one side of Palmer, a scowl on his face and his hand on the butt of his gun. Both men had stopped just inside the door of the sitting room.
Palmer gestured with the little pistol in his hand. He no longer looked like a shopkeeper. His eyes reminded Braddock more than ever of a rattlesnake, and so did the attitude of his body, poised and ready to strike and kill.
“Back out of there,” Palmer went on. “Don’t try anything or I’ll put a bullet in you.”
Braddock backed out of the bedroom. Elise folded her arms and sauntered after him, a smirk on her face now.
And yet concern still lurked in her eyes. Braddock had said something threatened Palmer, and he represented her livelihood right now. She wanted to know more, Braddock thought, so she could protect herself.
“Elise, take his gun,” Palmer ordered.
She hesitated, clearly not wanting to get that close to Braddock. A faint smile touched his lips as he told her, “Don’t worry. I won’t hurt you.”
“Damn right you won’t hurt her,” Palmer said. “If you did, I’d make sure you took a long, painful time to die.”
She stepped up to Braddock, licked her lips slightly, and reached out with a slender, long-fingered hand to slide the Colt from its holster. Then she stepped back quickly.
“All right, George, turn around.”
“Something’s bad wrong here, boss,” Wilcox said. “He must figure on tryin’ some sort of double-cross. Why else would he drop out of sight like that, then sneak in here, knock out Carson, and force Miss Elise into your bedroom?”
> Wilcox talked fast. He wanted to solidify Palmer’s suspicions and make sure he considered Braddock guilty of something. Braddock knew that. He just kept a cool, confident smile on his face. It might madden Wilcox into saying too much.
When Palmer didn’t respond, Wilcox went on, “Let me take him outta here and deal with him. No need for you to worry yourself about this, Mr. Palmer.”
“Wait just a minute,” Palmer said as he lifted his free hand. The gun in his other hand remained steady as a rock as he pointed it at Braddock. “I asked George for an explanation, and I’m going to give him a chance to answer me.”
“Wilcox is right about a double-cross,” Braddock said, “only he’s the one trying to pull it.”
Wilcox’s scowl darkened. He had moved aside so he had a clear shot at Braddock. He started to draw his gun as he snarled, “You damn liar—”
“Dex!” Palmer’s sharp tone made Wilcox pause with the gun halfway out of its holster. “I have this under control.”
“Sure, boss.” With obvious reluctance, Wilcox let his revolver slide back down into leather, but he didn’t move his hand far from it.
“Keep talking, George. And remember...this is the only chance to tell the truth you’re going to get.”
“I don’t blame you for being leery of me, Mr. Palmer,” Braddock said. “After all, you barely know me. But I did what you said last night. I went to Hernandez’s place and killed that fella Larkin.”
“And then dropped out of sight,” Palmer said, nodded. “I know about Larkin. I want to know what else you were doing.”
“Trying not to die after Wilcox shot me. That kept me pretty busy.”
Wilcox said, “That’s a damn dirty lie!”
“If you’ll let me pull up my shirt, I can prove it,” Braddock said.
Wilcox started to say something else. Palmer motioned him to silence, thought for a moment about what Braddock had said, then told him, “All right, go ahead, but slow and easy. No tricks.”
“No tricks,” Braddock agreed. He lifted his shirt to reveal the bandages on his side. “Wilcox wounded me with a little derringer he carries. He’d already tried to smash my head in and drop me in the river to drown.”
Gun Devils of the Rio Grande (Outlaw Ranger Book 5) Page 9