Gunmen of the Desert Sands

by Ralph Cotton

  ’’Shut up, fool," said Madsen. ’’I didn’t say she’s done anything. It’s just time we all three had a good talk about things here."

  ’’What do you mean? A talk about things here?" Ramona asked, fear showing in her dark eyes.

  Madsen smiled reassuringly. ’’Now, Ramona, it’s nothing to get upset about. In fact, I’ve got some good news for you and Francisca."

  ’’Oh, you do?" Ramona gave him a wary look.

  ’’Yes," said Madsen. ’’Remember what I told you about forgiving what Nito owes me? About calling it even and bringing him home?"

  Ramona held her breath awaiting his next words; so did Francisca, wondering what this would mean, with Shaw already gone to free her father.

  ’’I’m going to do it," said Madsen. He spread his arms as if expecting both the mother and child to throw themselves into them. Ramona saw what he expected and gave it to him, going into his arms sounding grateful but not overly grateful, not enough to indicate how much more she cared for her husband than she did for him. ’’Gracias, Quinn," she said, ’’for being a man of your word." She looked at Francisca. ’’Do you hear, Francisca? Your papá is coming home. Do you not wish to thank Mr. Madsen for bringing him home to you?"

  ’’Gracias, Mr. Madsen," Francisca said sullenly, without stepping any closer to him.

  Turning back to Ramona, Madsen said, ’’There are a couple of things you and I need to talk about in private." He gestured a nod toward Francisca.

  ’’Sí, I understand," Ramona said quietly. To her daughter she said, ’’Francisca, you must leave us alone. There are things Mr. Madsen wants to—"

  ’’I heard him," said Francisca in a polite but smoldering tone. With a look at Madsen that did little to hide her hatred of him, she walked out the door onto the dirt street, her attention going immediately in the direction from which she knew Shaw and her father would be riding.

  As soon as the child was out of hearing distance, Madsen held Ramona at arm’s length and said to her, ’’Are you happy that I’m bringing Nito home?"

  ’’Yes, I am happy," Ramona said, careful not to appear too happy and make him jealous of her husband.

  ’’Good," said Madsen, ’’then I’ll be bringing him home to you in a few days." He paused, then said, ’’There’s something you’re going to have to do for me in return."

  ’’Sí, I will do whatever you ask," Ramona said. She swallowed a tight knot in her throat, realizing the kinds of demands a man like this could make.

  Madsen gave a thin smile. ’’I’m giving Francisca to Deacon Lucas until he gets here."

  ’’Oh, no, Quinn, I beg of you," Ramona said. ’’She is only a child. Please do not send her to—"

  ’’Enough!" Madsen said, his grip on her shoulders tightening as his temper began to flare. ’’She’s turning fourteen. It’s time she became a woman. I’ve already given Lucas my word on the matter. I didn’t even have to tell you. I was just being kind."

  She knew that to press him on the matter would be futile. It would bring her a beating without having any influence on his decision one way or the other. Still, she ventured, asking as passively as she could, ’’But why, Quinn, why do you do this? She is not your daughter, she is mine . . . mine and Nito’s."

  ’’You want Nito to come home, don’t you?" Madsen said, his face growing red with anger.

  ’’Yes, I do," said Ramona. ’’But it will kill him to know that our child is the reason he was released."

  ’’Oh?" Madsen seemed to settle down. He took a deep breath and decided to lie to her. ’’It so happens that Nito already knows about the arrangement. He sends his blessing."

  Ramona only stared at him.

  ’’Yes, it’s true," said Madsen. ’’I sent a man to the mines. He told your Nito. It turns out your good husband , Nito, agreed to it."

  ’’My Nito would never agree—" She stopped herself, knowing what she would get if she said what was really on her mind. She wanted her husband home. She wanted this man out of her bed and out of her life. Could Nito have given his blessing? In this country Francisca was not too young to become a wife. But to one of these outlaws, these killers?

  Madsen gave a cruel grin, seeing the shock and disappointment his words had caused her. ’’Maybe your Nito ain’t such a righteous soul after all. Maybe it’s time you looked at this the same way he does. These young girls are like kids and yearlings. They reach an age, it’s better to trade them off and be done with them."

  She held her words. It was important to get her husband home. Once he was here with her, the three of them could flee Zarco in the dark of night if need be. All right. . . . She calmed herself down. Just the fact that there had been some word from Nito was a relief. At least her husband was still alive. ’’Sí, you are right," she said quietly. ’’If Nito has given his blessing, what right have I to question it?"

  ’’That’s what I say." Madsen grinned. He stepped past her, and sat down in a wooden chair and raised a boot. ’’Now then, get these off me. I want you to show me just how grateful you are."

  As she turned around, straddled his foreleg and took his dirty boot in hand, she asked carefully, ’’Why do you promise Francisca to Deacon Lucas? She is a skinny, foolish girl who knows very little about anything, especially about men."

  ’’For some men that’s the best traits to look for in a woman," Madsen said, lowering his stockinged foot and raising his other boot. He wasn’t about to explain himself to this peasant woman. Why he’d promised her daughter to Deacon Lucas was strictly between him and Lucas.

  But it was a good business move on his part, he reminded himself with a guarded smile. Lucas had wanted the girl ever since they’d been in Zarco. Handing her over to him as a present would have the gunman eating out of his hand. With Lucas’ undying support came the support of his gang—something Madsen needed if he wanted to continue raiding both sides of the border. There would also be some gold changing hands between himself and Deacon Lucas, he thought, smiling, standing up in his stockinged feet and spreading his arms out, but that was just a little something extra for himself.

  Chapter 14

  In the grainy darkness, Paco saw the girl walking along the dirt street. She moved quietly in the dark shadows, trying to remain unseen. ’’Crazy muchacha ," Paco said to himself. He ducked out of sight behind a mule cart and waited until she passed in front of him. ’’Ah, there you are," he said, jumping out quickly and grabbing her before she could bolt away from him. ’’Now what do you do for yourself?" he said under his breath, holding her firmly, yet not too firmly, by her arm. ’’What if this was not me? What if it was one of the drunken hombres from the cantina?"

  Speaking just above a whisper, Francisca said, ’’I would do this." As quick as a whip she spun free of him, took a step back and kicked him solidly in his groin. ’’Then I would turn and run away, as quick as a rabbit," she added. ’’I would kick like a rabbit and run like a rabbit."

  Caught completely by surprise, Paco had jack-knifed at the waist and grabbed himself with both hands. ’’Oh Dios mio," he groaned in a strained and injured voice.

  ’’Are you all right?" Francisca asked in a concerned tone, bending down and looking into his tortured face.

  ’’Sí, I am . . . just fine," Paco said, struggling to catch his breath. He tried without success to hide the deep throbbing pain in his lower belly.

  ’’Did I do wrong, Senor Ruiz?" Francisca asked, looking worried.

  ’’Call me Paco," he managed to say. Struggling, he began to regain his breath and straighten upright. ’’No, little one . . . you did good," he said. He breathed deep and collected himself. ’’But the point is . . ." He stopped, took another deep breath and continued. ’’You have been told to stay off these dark streets." He raised a gloved finger for emphasis, his other hand still pressed to his aching groin.

  ’’I am sorry I hurt you, Paco," she said.

  ’’If I were one of those hombres, a kick down
there would not have stopped me." He paused and considered it. ’’But it is good that you know how to defend yourself."

  ’’Gracias," said Francisca. ’’I will be careful, as I always am."

  Looking at her, Paco wondered if Shaw had told her where he was going. ’’Why are you out here tonight?" he asked, probing to see what she knew.

  ’’Because Madsen is with my mother," she said, a bitterness coming to her voice.

  ’’That is the only reason you are out here tonight, of all nights?" Paco asked, eying her closely in the dark, grainy light.

  ’’Sí, why else would I be out here?" she asked, giving a shrug, she herself watching his face for any sign that he might know what Shaw was up to.

  ’’Never mind," Paco said, deciding that even if she did know, it was still not a good idea for him to confide in her. Shaw would be back any time now. He would wait and keep his mouth shut. He’d already stuck his neck out too far by agreeing to cover for Shaw. He hoped he wasn’t about to get himself killed over this girl and her dirty peasant family.

  The girl started to speak, but at the quiet sound of horses’ walking hooves, Paco held up a hand and quieted her.

  ’’Horses, near the church!" Francisca whispered with nervous anticipation.

  ’’Shhh, yes," said Paco, ’’be quiet." The two looked in the direction of the small adobe church and saw the silhouettes of two riders, their horses outlined against the purple night sky.

  ’’It is Papá!" Francisca said, having a hard time keeping herself from crying out loud.

  ’’Wait!" said Paco. But his words went unheard; the girl raced off along the darkened street. ’’Muchacha loca!" Paco whispered under his breath, hurrying along with a slight limp from the kick in his groin.

  At the rear door of the church, Shaw had helped Nito down from the horse and looped his arm around his shoulder when Francisca ran up and threw her arms around her father. ’’Papá! Papá!" she said, tears streaming from her eyes. ’’You are home! Thank God! Mr. Angel has brought you home to me!"

  ’’Easy, little lady," Shaw said, seeing that Nito was so exhausted and sick he didn’t seem to recognize the girl. ’’Your father is awfully sick. Let’s get him inside, see what the priest can do for him." As Shaw spoke to the girl, his eyes went to Paco and conveyed a look of hopelessness.

  ’’Here, you stay with me, little one," Paco said gently, putting his arm around the girl’s shoulder as the old priest came out and helped Shaw take the sick man inside.

  ’’What is wrong with him?" Francisca asked, the two of them following Shaw and her father inside the church, then stopping as the priest closed a heavy curtain.

  ’’I don’t know," said Paco, ’’but the padre is wise in these matters. He will know what to do." He patted the child’s shoulder and kept her close beside him. On the other side of the curtain they heard Nito’s weak cough and his shallow gasping for breath. ’’Papá! It is me," Francisca said to the curtain drawn between them. ’’Can you hear me?"

  Leaning down over Nito, Shaw and the old priest saw a glimmer of recognition come to the man’s eyes. This time, hearing his daughter’s voice, Nito struggled to raise himself up on the cot where they had laid him. ’’Francisca, mi hija. Is it possible?" His weak hand gripped Shaw’s wrist.

  ’’Yes, it’s Francisca," said Shaw. He started to ask the priest if it would be all right for the girl to come inside the curtain. But before he could, Francisca was beside him, leaning down over her father, sobbing and holding his head cradled in her arms.

  Shaw stepped back. The old priest leaned in between the daughter and father long enough to lay a hot, wet herbal poultice on the man’s emaciated chest. Then he stood up, stepped back beside Shaw and whispered to him, ’’Perhaps someone should go bring Ramona here."

  ’’Oh?" Shaw gave him a questioning look.

  ’’Yes," said the old priest, reading Shaw’s question correctly. ’’And quickly," he added.

  Shaw slipped back through the curtain and over to where Paco stood near the rear door, keeping watch on the darkness through the open slit of the door. Casting a glance at Shaw over his shoulder, Paco said, ’’Three times today, Madsen asked me where you were. I told him you were asleep. Then I told him you were with a woman. Then I said you were drunk and in a foul mood."

  ’’Gracias, Paco," Shaw said. ’’The priest says we need to get the woman here fast."

  ’’He is dying?" Paco whispered.

  Shaw only nodded.

  ’’Madsen is with the woman, but by now he is probably passed out," Paco said. ’’I will go to the back window and tell her to get here quickly." He paused, then said, ’’But she knows I am one of Madsen’s men. How will I get her to—"

  ’’Show her this," Shaw said. He held out a strip of rawhide that held a small tarnished silver ring. ’’Nito gave it to me, in case he didn’t make it back here. He’d lost so much weight it wouldn’t stay on his finger." He dropped the ring and its rawhide strip into Paco’s hand.

  ’’Santa Madre," Paco whispered. ’’Madsen has starved this poor man to death in order to rut with his wife." He gave Shaw a look, then said, ’’I used to think of myself as an evil man."

  ’’What do you think now?" Shaw asked.

  ’’I think it would not be evil if I killed Madsen before this night is through," he said as he slipped out the door and half closed it behind himself.

  ’’You might have to beat me to it," Shaw said to himself under his breath, watching the Mexican disappear in the darkness toward the Gomezes’ small adobe.

  Ramona sat at the table with her head in her hands. When the door opened, she turned toward it expecting to see Francisca. But she rose half out of her chair when she saw Paco step inside with his Colt drawn and pointed at her. ’’Do not make a sound," he whispered. Raising a finger to his lips, he allowed her to see the string of rawhide hanging from his hand, the small silver ring hanging on it.

  She gasped wide eyed, then said, ’’Where did you get that? What are you doing here?"

  ’’I got it from your husband, Nito," Paco whispered.

  ’’You have seen Nito?" Ramona asked breathlessly. She cut a guarded glance toward the bedroom where Madsen lay sleeping, an open bottle of tequila at his side.

  ’’Don’t worry, he is asleep," said Paco. ’’I looked in through the window." He lowered his gun a little. ’’Your husband is at the church. The padre said to bring you quickly." He hoped to convey the urgency without coming out and telling her the man was dying.

  But she read the look in his eyes. ’’Is he . . . ?" Her words went unfinished. She stepped forward, grasped the ring and held it to her bosom.

  ’’ ’Come quickly,’ is what he told me to say," Paco replied with a flat expression.

  Grabbing a frayed shawl from a wall peg, the woman hurried out, giving only a short wary glance back toward the bedroom doorway. On their way through the darkness, she said, ’’You are one of his men. Why are you doing this? If he knew, he would kill you."

  ’’I am one of his men, sí," Paco replied, ’’but that does not mean I like what I have seen Madsen doing to you and your family."

  ’’Then why do you do something now? Where were you when he sent my husband away and began to shame me and my daughter? Were you so afraid of him?"

  ’’I fear no man," Paco said. They hurried along in silence for a moment. Finally Paco said as if confiding in her, ’’I don’t know why I am doing this now. But I am glad that I’m doing it."

  ’’You do not even know when it was that you changed your mind," Ramona said.

  ’’Sí, I know when," said Paco. ’’It was when the gunman, Shaw, rode into Zarco."

  The two looked at each other as they turned the dark corner toward the rear door of the church. ’’The one my daughter calls Mr. Angel? The one she says is the answer to our many prayers?"

  ’’Sí, that one," said Paco, sounding a little embarrassed to discuss such a matter as prayers and
angels.

  ’’She is such a foolish child," Ramona said almost to herself, hurrying along beside him.

  Watching through the narrowly opened door, Shaw stepped to the side and let the two in. Ramona looked at Shaw, but only in passing as she hurried through the thick dark curtain to her husband’s side.

  ’’Look, Papá," said Francisca, ’’Mamá is here."

  ’’Nito, oh, my Nito, what has he done to you?" Ramona wept, seeing the thin, frail shell of what had been her husband.

  ’’He—he has killed me," Nito managed to say in a waning voice.

  ’’He lied to me," said Ramona, caressing her husband’s forehead, holding his cold skeletonlike fingers in her warm hands. ’’He told me he was feeding you good, taking extra good care of you! I—I believed him." She sobbed openly. ’’He said only today that you gave your permission for Francisca to stay with one of his men."

  Francisca’s eyes widened in terror.

  ’’No ... it is not so," said Nito. ’’I have not ... seen him or any of his men . . . until Senor Shaw came for me."

  Outside the curtain, Shaw and Paco looked at each other, realizing how terribly Madsen had treated these people. ’’Let’s go out back," Shaw whispered, gesturing toward the door.

  Outside in the darkness, Paco gripped his Colt handle tightly. ’’I have never wanted to kill a man so badly as I want to kill Madsen. No man does another man this way. He got what he wanted—to use the woman until he was through with her. Why was that not enough? Damn him to hell."

  ’’Using her wasn’t enough," Shaw said. ’’He had to keep coming up with more ways to use her. Deceiving her was one more way of satisfying himself. He liked making her think that sleeping with him was gaining better treatment for her husband, when all the while Madsen was killing him slowly."

  ’’And giving the girl to Deacon Lucas was just one more way of using these poor people," said Paco, shaking his head slowly in dark speculation.

  ’’Yeah, and all the while telling the woman that her husband had given him permission to do so," Shaw said. ’’That takes one truly cold-blooded son of a bitch." As he spoke he gazed toward the Gomezes’ adobe, where Madsen lay sleeping in Nito’s bed while Nito gasped for his dying breath.