Brown leaned in and said, “Your brother is down at the cutoff looking to ambush somebody, but it ain’t going to be us, so I wouldn’t plan on him coming to your rescue again. That is, assuming you’re really Abe.”
Abe could smell thick tobacco smoke on Brown’s clothes. “Assume whatever you want,” he said. “But maybe you’ve got your names wrong again, and I’m Zack, and it was me that swived your daughter.”
“Keep at it, lowlife,” Brown said. “You and the redskin ain’t leaving these woods alive.” He drove the toe of his stovepipe boot into Abe’s stomach so hard the boy threw up.
Abe was panting for air but knew he couldn’t quit. “Your fair-haired daughter was one fine toss in the hay, I’ll say that,” he said, forcing a fake snigger, his breath rolling in painful heaves, strands of bile dripping from his lower lip.
“Her hair was black, you fool.”
“Who cares?” Abe asked, and then he braced himself for the next assault.
“Why, you miserable . . .” Brown exploded in a violent fit, beating and kicking the boy in a wild frenzy. Just as Abe was about to pass out, he heard a faint buzzing as Chiquito’s hatchet zipped through the air, followed by a rich whomp as it embedded in Danny Brown’s spine. Brown collapsed on top of Abe’s legs, his body twitching like a speared fish, until he shuddered one last spasm.
Abe heard Chiquito let loose with a war whoop and saw him barreling down at Lonnie like a stampeding steer. Before Lonnie could raise his rifle, Chiquito collided with him at full tilt, knocking him on his back. Chiquito charged again, but Lonnie had recovered and, being a taller man with longer arms, flipped the Apache over his hip. Both men jumped to their feet with knives drawn. Lonnie lashed out first, but Chiquito back-heeled and then lunged, slicing Lonnie’s shirt. As Chiquito concentrated on his opponent’s knife hand, Lonnie swung a mighty blow with his left and knocked the Apache off-kilter. Chiquito shook off the daze just as Lonnie thrust at his midriff. The Indian parried with his own knife and slid the weapon off and away.
Now Chiquito crouched, his knife held low to attack the soft spot of Lonnie’s belly. The blond man made a stabbing motion, but the Apache didn’t react. Instead, he spun two steps to the right and lashed out at Lonnie’s face. Lonnie ducked and then lurched toward Chiquito, but the Apache was ready. As he pushed his opponent to the ground with his free hand, Chiquito plunged the knife into Lonnie’s back and twisted it to good purpose. Lonnie fell on his stomach, both arms flailing at the wedged-in knife, unable to reach it. After a minute, his body buckled and calmed. Chiquito placed his foot on the blond man’s back and yanked the knife out.
“Didn’t know when I’d see you again,” Abe said. He was unable to keep his head up and it listed to one side. “Thought you might have headed back to the reservation.”
The Apache cut the ropes and lifted Abe to his feet. After the redhead had steadied himself, his temper tripped, his energy surged, and he scooped his knives off the ground. With a blade in each hand, Abe stabbed at both sides of Lonnie’s corpse as he screamed at him, “You want some more of this, Goldilocks?”
Abe felt Chiquito’s hand on his back.
“Maybe you should use the hatchet,” the Indian said. “It does a better job, although I’m pretty sure he’s dead.”
Abe relaxed his arms and flopped back on his rump, panting like a boxer who has just gone ten rounds, beads of sweat the size of match heads dripping off his nose. Chiquito helped Abe to his feet again and brushed him off. The boy had difficulty straightening his body and said, “It hurts powerful. I think I got a couple of busted ribs.”
“Let’s get back,” Chiquito said, his words spoken as if trying to calm an agitated animal. “There could be others hunting me. I can come back for the fuel later.”
“Sorry,” Abe said. “Got carried away. Too bad Brown wasn’t still alive so we could try that Apache roasting thing. Would have been fun.”
Chiquito cleared his throat. “No need to apologize,” he said. “It’s actually comforting knowing I’m not the only savage walking around these woods.”
Abe threw Chiquito a quick glance and asked, “How come I didn’t know you got a bounty on your head?”
“It wasn’t important. It has nothing to do with why we’re here.”
“Hellfire, it’s important to know if someone’s out there coming for one of us.”
“Well, from what Danny Brown said, it seems they were after you first—or at least, after your brother.”
“Don’t know anything about that,” Abe said with a quick wave.
“That’s what I mean,” Chiquito said. “It doesn’t matter.” He pointed at the bodies. “Should we bury them?”
Abe shook his head. “Not worth the bother.”
“So much for your Christian upbringing,” Chiquito said.
Abe offered no response. Instead, he draped his arm around the Indian’s shoulder for support, and the two of them shuffled back to the camp.
CHAPTER 25 REVELATION
Emmet gathered up the King’s maps, picked up the new Spencer, and hiked to the top of the hill so he could get his bearings. His foot bothered him only a bit—Mariana had done an excellent job dressing the wound. The ascent was gradual, except for the last fifty feet, where the trees thinned out and the rock outcropped at drunken angles. Using the rifle as a hiking stick, Emmet scrambled up the steeper incline until he reached a bench that opened for a dozen yards.
The view was breathtaking. The foothills wrapped around Santa Sabino like loving brown arms, with the higher mountains, hard and timeless, looming behind them like sentinels. Clouds ribbed the sky, and the San Rafael River curled through the valley like a shiny, blue-green ribbon.
Emmet moved back from the edge of the cliff and the twohundred-foot drop to the talus below. He spread a map across a flat rock and oriented himself with the surroundings. As he studied the map and the terrain, he heard sand and gravel scattering under footfalls. He grabbed the rifle just as Reno clambered over the rise.
“You spooked me,” Emmet said. “Men have died coming up on me quick like that.”
“Sorry.”
Emmet swept his arm from left to right. “Quite the view, huh?”
Reno gave a quick glance and nodded. “I’ve seen it before.”
“There’s rain coming tomorrow,” Emmet said. “I can smell it in the air.”
“You’ll make a good farmer someday,” Reno replied. “Mariana told me of your intentions to settle down.”
“That’s my plan.”
“She also told me you intend to take Major Kingston’s place and lead the attack on the hacienda.”
Emmet set his rifle against a rock and picked up another map. “Yep.”
“And you’re going to attack first thing tomorrow morning.”
“Yep.”
“I’d advise against it. You said they’re on to us.”
“They know about the twins and me from when we first showed up, but I don’t think they know much else.”
Reno leaned against a slab of sandstone. “They likely suspect Major Kingston has other men.”
“Let them suspect. They could never imagine what Soapy brung.”
“You can’t be sure of that.”
Emmet glued his eyes to Reno. “Are you playing with me, or do you know something I don’t?”
Reno fidgeted with the leather bracelet on his wrist. “All I’m saying is that they could be sitting there just waiting for us. Why attack early tomorrow morning?”
“Because the army is due to arrive later tomorrow, and we want to be long gone.”
“A day early? How do you know that?”
Emmet squinted and tilted his head. “I just know. And here’s the best part: Salazar and Garza don’t. We’ll go in early and take them by surprise.”
“Rethink this. You’re making a mistake,” Reno said in a louder voice.
“No. This is a great vantage point. From here, we’ve got easy routes to position the cannon and Gat
ling gun. We get into position tonight and attack first thing tomorrow.”
Reno straightened up, pointed his Spencer at Emmet, and cocked it. “I’m sorry, but I can’t let you do that.”
Emmet’s bones went cold, and a sick feeling penetrated to his bowels. It wasn’t fear but something else, a reaction to not wanting to think the worst.
“What are you saying?”
Reno kicked Emmet’s rifle out of reach and said, “Your crusade is over.”
Emmet fixed his eyes on Reno’s seamed, brown face. “You’re with Salazar?”
“Trust me. You’re no match for him. He’ll kill us all, Mariana and myself included. I refuse to let that happen.”
“You betray your own daughter?”
“I’m saving my daughter. She was foolish to even consider going against the cousins.”
Emmet took a step towards Reno.
“Don’t,” Reno warned.
Emmet froze. “Mariana loves me,” he said.
“No, she doesn’t. She wants you to think that because she needs your rifle to kill Garza and avenge Miguel.”
“Not true.” Emmet could not slow the furious pounding of his heart. He thought about reaching for his boot knife and then realized he didn’t have it. The blade was lying on the grass where Mariana had bandaged his leg. “What about Faith?” he asked.
“She’s not my concern.”
“What about the other girls?”
“Even less a concern.”
“You know that unless somebody stands up to the cousins, the people of Santa Sabino will never be free.”
“They’ll survive. Mariana’s safety is all I care about.”
“What do the cousins know?”
“Everything. They know about Soapy and the others, the cannon, the Gatling gun, the wagons of ammunition. Everything. Your situation is hopeless.”
“When did you turn?”
“I went along with Mariana’s madness until you showed up, and Major Kingston said others were on their way. I decided to stop this before things went too far. I believed that once the major was out of the picture, the rest of you would go home.”
Emmet shook his head in disgust. “What kind of man are you?”
“A good father.”
Emmet doffed his slouch hat and ran his fingers through his hair, his mind racing to buy some time. “Who have you been feeding information to?”
“Diego.”
“What do you intend to do with me?”
“Kill you. One shot. Close range. Then I’ll shove your body off the cliff. I’ll tell them one of Salazar’s men ambushed us.”
Emmet put his hat back on. “Mariana will find out, and she’ll hate you for it.”
“She won’t find out.”
“Everybody will be able to tell your gun’s been fired.”
“My Spencer will go over the cliff two seconds after you.” Reno lifted Emmet’s rifle off the rock. “Then I’ll tote your unfired one back with me.”
Emmet realized he was running out of time and seized on one last idea.
“When did you last speak to Diego?”
“This morning.”
“Then Salazar and Garza don’t know about the big guns. Listen to me, Reno. I killed Diego and Paco earlier today before they reached the hacienda.”
“Lies.”
“Where do you think I found Lucita? Ask her who she was with.”
“Lies. She wasn’t with Diego when I met him today.”
“She must have been with Paco. Before you kill me, check and ask her.”
“Don’t you see, Emmet, it doesn’t matter. I can’t let you attack Salazar. If you fail, he’ll think I double-crossed him, and both Mariana and I will end up dead.”
“But, if we prevail?”
“Mariana is all I have left; I can’t take that chance. I’m sorry. Move closer to the edge.”
Emmet had faced death many times during the war and acted with courage and equanimity. This time would be no different, even though his heart throbbed at the base of his throat. He sidled closer to the edge of the cliff, raised his arms as if to embrace the clouds floating above him, closed his eyes, and waited.
A shot rang out, but Emmet felt no impact, no pain. Instead, he opened his eyes and saw Reno fall forward, a hole the size of a silver dollar in his back oozing blood. Twenty yards away, cloaked in the shadows of the trees, Soapy lowered his rifle. Emmet went limp and leaned on a rock for support as Soapy emerged from the shade into the sunlight.
“It’s been quite a spell,” Emmet gasped, “since I was so close to death. Thanks for showing up when you did, Soapy. I owe you a life.”
Soapy scrambled up the rocks. “You owe me a bundle of nothing,” he said. “Thank Billy instead.” He reached into his pocket, removed a sheet of paper, and handed it to Emmet. “Billy saw Reno leave this behind and thought he’d do a good deed and return it to him. Showed it to me first.”
“I saw Billy take the letter off Reno’s porch,” Emmet said. He looked at the paper. It wasn’t a letter, but a map showing the exact route to their present location.
“When I saw the map, I knew something was rotten,” Soapy said. “Why draw a map of where you’re going and leave it behind? That is, unless you’re trying to tell somebody else where you’re going. When I saw Reno making his way towards you, I figured I’d follow him.”
“He had me fooled,” Emmet said.
“He had all of us fooled. What are we going to tell Mariana?”
“Almost always better to tell the truth.”
Emmet remained still for a few minutes to let his heartbeat return to its normal pace and then stooped to pick up the maps and both Spencers.
“You sure you’re up to telling her?” Soapy asked.
“What do you mean?”
“I’ve noticed the way your eyes picnic on her.”
Emmet nodded. “I’ll manage it,” he said, “if you manage hefting him back to camp.”
“I got him,” Soapy said, as he grabbed Reno’s body by the arms, stood him up, and then let gravity flop the dead man over his shoulder. “Let’s go deliver the bad news.”
CHAPTER 26 DINNER
Once again, Faith found herself sitting in the hacienda’s spacious dining room, except this time a fire crackled in the marble fireplace. Once again, it was she and Enrique Salazar sharing a meal alone, except this time it was dinner. Because they sat at opposite ends of the long table in the huge room, the effect was comical, although neither was laughing.
“Thank you for joining me, Miss Wheeler.”
“Did I have a choice?”
Faith watched Salazar break off a piece of bread from a small round loaf and spread a generous lump of butter on it.
“You always have a choice,” he said. “You showed great skill tending to the soldier.”
“He died.”
While Salazar chewed on the bread, he shook his head and said, “I’m scouring my brain trying to figure out a way to convince you that I want only good things for you.”
Faith didn’t respond. She spooned some stew into her mouth. The stew was a delicious blend of beef and onions and potatoes, but she refused to give Salazar or his household the satisfaction of a compliment. She gazed at the flames flickering from the candelabra nearest to her.
“You’ve scarred your face,” Salazar continued, “but your inner beauty—your inner power—is intact. It can never be damaged.”
Faith shifted her eyes to look at him. He was staring at her.
“What can I do,” he said, “to show you my good intent.”
“There’s nothing good inside you.”
“What if I free one of the girls?” Salazar offered.
She dipped the spoon into the bowl again, raised it to her mouth, but stopped when it was parallel to her lips. “That would be a start,” she said and then swallowed the mouthful.
Salazar set his knife on the tabletop and knitted his hands together. “Even better,” he continued, “I’d
like you to select the girl.”
Faith was dabbing her mouth with a napkin but stopped. “I get to pick who you let go?”
“Yes, Miss Wheeler. Who will it be?”
Her limbs tingled at the thought of saving the pregnant captive.
“I suppose Calida,” she answered with as little expression as possible.
Salazar laughed and turned his head towards the fire, which danced soft orange shapes on the wall. “She’s the girl who’s been sick the past few mornings.”
“The rich food doesn’t agree with her.”
Salazar threw her a doubtful look and resumed eating without looking up.
“That’s one possible explanation,” he said.
“You don’t want to be selling off a sick girl.”
The ends of the older man’s mouth curled into a smirk. “No, we don’t want to be doing that,” he said. “A woman in her condition would be best cared for at home.” He winked, picked up a small cast-iron dinner bell, and rang it. Armando appeared at the door, but when he saw Faith’s bandaged face, he held a hand to his mouth.
“I’m over here, Armando,” Salazar said with a growl.
The boy’s eyes slid sideways and shrank into a hard glower. “Yes, señor?” he said.
“Bring Calida here.”
As Armando exited the room, he looked back at Faith, shook his head, and shut the door.
“You will see I’m a man of my word,” Salazar said, “especially when it comes to making promises to you.”
“If you’d like to please me,” Faith said, “free them all.”
“All of them?”
Faith stood and pounded both hands on the table. “All of them. And then promise to end this awful business once and for all.”
Salazar stroked his beard with his right hand. “That’s quite a request, Miss Wheeler. What would you offer in return?”
The question took Faith aback. She squinted at him, softened her voice, and asked, “What do you want?”
Salazar leaned back in the chair and sipped from his wine goblet. “I want you to become my wife.”
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