Catch a Shooting Star jd edit 03 12 2012 html (36 page)

The boy was wary of her at first but with a little coaxing, she convinced him to go with her.  She stuffed some of his clothes into a pillow case and topped it off with the ragged blanket that he had been clutching while she was gathering his things.  Then, she scooped her son into her arms and slipped from the room.

As she passed the library, she heard a rustling but she did not stop to see if Diego was inside.  With the door only slightly ajar, he could not see who went by, so she hugged her son to her breast and kept going until she was back outside in the courtyard.  She passed the guard without a glance from him and ran to the stables where she would wait until Travis would meet her with his own captive.

Travis’ adventure was a little more violent than hers turned out to be.  He had stepped off the wooden porch of the store after making sure that Savannah had made it to the house but was suddenly grabbed from behind.  He was pulled into the darkness of the alley and was held by a man from behind while the cold steel of a knife cut at the flesh of his neck.  His holsters were emptied and his pistols were tossed down the alley while the man behind him growled, “Say your prayers, Gringo.  I’m getting you out of my way.  You have something that I want and I’m takin’ it as soon as you’re dead.”

Travis didn’t ask him what the hell he was talking about and he didn’t wait for the assailant to reveal his identity or his intensions, for that matter, for he relaxed his grip on the other man’s arm and let his hand fall at his side as if he had given in to the man’s assault.  But, shaking his hand quickly at his hip, he let the Derringer slip from his sleeve and into his palm.  Instantly, the gun released its first bullet, piercing the stranger’s upper leg. 

The man behind him screamed in pain, released Travis and then fell to the ground, gripping his thigh and screeching, “You Bastard!  You almost castrated me!”

The stranger’s eyes rolled back into his head as he passed out.  He slumped to the ground, no longer a threat to anyone.

Travis kicked the unconscious man and said with malice, “Damn light-skirt.  It’s just a flesh wound.”  He leaned over the limp body to inspect the man’s pockets and he pulled out the watch that he recognized as the one that he had given Tito years ago and he breathed, “Well, I’ll be damned.  Where did you get this?” 

He tucked the bloody watch into this shirt pocket then began to shake the unconscious man’s shoulders.  When the stranger came to, he began interrogating him relentlessly.

“Where the Hell did you get this?” he asked the dizzy man who stared at the golden orb with growing knowledge that it was the one that Tito had given him days before.

When the man answered confirming that the watch did, in fact, belong to Tito, Travis demanded to know what he had to do with the man whom he called a friend.  When the answer came, Travis swore and shook his head as he growled, “He put you up to this?”

The man nodded and sheepishly pulled away as Travis seethed with animosity and growled, “I just don’t understand why he would do this to me.”

He let the man fall back to the ground and left him there to bleed while he went to carry out the mission at hand.  His questions would have to wait, he told himself as he retrieved his twin revolvers and then made his way to the house where El Diablo lived. 

He stole inside and tiptoed through the house, following the directions that Savannah had given him.  When he came upon what he believed to be the library where Diego spent most of his time, Travis pushed open the door and poked his head inside.  He smiled to himself as he saw that his quarry sat with his back to him at the desk.  Stealthily, he stalked toward the oak desk and removed one silver pistol from its holster and pointed it at the Mexican’s temple.  With a click of the trigger, the gun was cocked and ready to fire if Diego twitched a muscle. 

The Mexican froze, but his eyes were calm, calculating his next move while hoping that this unwise man beside him would slip so that he could overpower him.  Diego waited patiently while the stranger decided to inform him of his intensions, yet his mind contemplated a defense, just in case the stranger wanted to harm him. 

“Don Diego Fernandez, I am placing you under arrest,” Travis told him.

“By whose authority?” Diego asked assuredly.

“By the authority of the United States of America and the State of Texas.”

The Mexican smiled confidently as he reminded the stranger, “This is Mexico.  You have no authority here.”

“This gun is the only authority I need, Mister,” Travis sneered, pressing the barrel against Diego’s head.

The blood vessels in Diego’s temple beat wildly against the end of the pistol, giving Travis the only indication that the man was in the least bit afraid for his life and causing annoyance in him as he pressed the barrel closer, indenting the man’s flesh with its cold metal rim. 

Diego hissed through clenched teeth, “You would not kill me.  You don’t have the courage.  You don’t have the approval of your precious government to kill me.  You must get me back to your country to face a judge and jury.  That is the way of your government, isn’t it, my friend?” 

“You’re right. I won’t kill you.  I’m placing you under my custody until we reach the border.  Then, I’ll arrest you for murder.  And,” Travis assured him with a growl, “I’m not your friend.”

“You have no proof of any murder,” Diego said confidently.

“I have enough proof to have you dangle until you strangle yourself at the end of a rope,” Travis assured the Mexican with growing indignation.  “And I have witnesses who will say under oath that you used those murders as a decoy for your bank robberies.”

“Me?  Robbing banks?” Diego laughed as he touched a palm to his chest in feigned disbelief.  “Why would I, the richest man in all of Mexico, want to rob banks?”

“To fund your opium operation,” Travis told him.

“Opium?” Diego snickered.  “My, you seem to think that you know every detail of my life.”

“Almost,” Travis said with confidence.  “I have good sources for my information.  At any rate, Mr. Fernandez, it is my duty to take you back to Texas to stand trial for your crimes.”

Diego threw up his hands as if in surrender with a shrug of his shoulders.  But as he rose from the leather chair, a loud commotion from outside the door, which sounded like Savannah screaming angrily, took Travis’ attention away from him.  Suddenly fearful for her life, he turned his head toward her voice, but was taken by surprise when, snakelike, Diego knocked the pistol to the floor and shoved Travis with all his might.  Stunned and shaken, Travis fought to regain his balance.  And for one fleeting instant, as his eyes found their way outside the library, he thought he saw Savannah with a bundle in her arms. Relieved to know that she was on her way to safety, Travis leaned forward to continue his assault.  But as he righted himself, Diego’s fist found its mark across his jaw, sending him staggering backwards.  Mercifully, Diego hesitated in his attack long enough for Travis to come to his senses.  With a look of counterfeit benevolence, Diego charged toward the younger man who raised his arms in defense.  With a devilish laugh, Diego lunged forward, fists flying and landing like great clubs of battle against the rigid face and tense ribs of the former Texas Ranger. 

Travis held his ground, putting up an arm here, ducking there, knowing that the older man would soon tire himself out and waiting for his chance to overtake the devil himself.  His patience paid off when Diego staggered backwards to catch his breath.  At that time, Travis made his move.  He burst toward Diego with renewed energy, pounding, jabbing and swinging his fists upon the startled Mexican. 

Meanwhile, Savannah crouched in the hay, clutching her son in her arms, waiting for Travis to join her with her husband in tow.  She cooed reassurances to the boy who looked up at her with terrified eyes.  But loud bursts of gunfire startled her and the boy just as they found refuge in the dark recesses of the stables.  She convinced him to sit in the hay while she went to the door to see what the commotion outside was all about. 

She pushed open the heavy barn door and violent sounds blasted her as she looked around the streets at the hundreds of horses with yelping men that steered them around the street, firing guns and falling to the ground as the battle raged around her.  Hundreds of men fought against more men in a battle that grew louder than the fireworks that blasted in the distance in the Cinco de Mayo celebration.

“Oh my God,” she whispered with a hand to her mouth.  “I’ve got to warn Travis!”  She worried that some of Diego’s men would come to his rescue inside the house and hurt the man that she loved.  She closed the door and went back to her son to make sure that he stayed hidden in the hay while she left him to go back to the house.  Satisfied that he would heed her warning to stay put, she kissed his head and prayed that he would do as he was told while she slipped out the stable door.

She ran down the dirt street, dodging bullets that ricocheted off the walls of buildings and when she made her way to the end of the street, she paused to survey the path that she must take in order to get to the house where Travis fought with her husband.  Then, she ran across the street, sidestepping around bodies of dying men and squealing horses.  Tears streamed down her face as she pushed onward, praying that she would make it in time to warn Travis that this mob was coming in Diego’s defense.  But, as she hurried over the blood-drenched street, she heard a man curse and a horse grunt its protest as it was reined to a sudden halt just as it slammed into her. 

A whirlwind of stars swam in her head and she fought against the blackness that threatened to overtake her.  In her journey to oblivion, she heard a familiar voice ask her if she was hurt.

The voice echoed as if it was deep in a barrel as it repeated, “Are you alright?”

“What happened?” she asked as she was raised to a sitting position.

“You ran over my horse,” Tito quipped as he dusted her off.  “I thought you were dead, Baby Girl.  Are you sure you’re alright?”

She nodded as her head cleared and her eyes focused on the face in front of her.  She blinked twice as she asked in dazed confusion, “Tito?  Is that you?”

“Yep.  It’s me all right.  Can you stand up?”

“I think so,” she said as she allowed him to help her to her feet.  As she found her footing, she looked into his face and noticed that there was something very different about him.  With her brow furrowed in puzzlement, she asked, “What happened to your beard?”

Tito rubbed his now bare face and said with a smile, “I’ll explain that later.  Right now, you need to get to safety.”

“But, I have to warn Travis,” she protested as he steered her back toward the stables.

“Where is he?  Is he still in the house?” Tito asked as he opened the stable door and pushed her inside.

“In the library,” she told him as she tried to squeeze past him to go to Travis.

Tito caught her arm and redirected her back into the barn and closing the door in front of her, he told her as he latched the door from the outside, “I’ll take care of him.”

Both Travis and Diego stood puffing in the middle of the library, each daring the other to make the first move.  Both were bruised and bleeding from their brawl, each thinking that he had won the battle and the other had conceded defeat.  So, when Travis straightened to claim his prisoner, Diego lunged forward again, charging like a raging bull with his head ducked and his arms thrust toward his victim with boundless power.  He did not stop his attack until Travis was thrown against a bookcase.  With a crash, dozens of books fell from the shelves and onto Travis’ head and shoulders.

In a daze, he slumped to the floor.  Diego laughed cruelly before he retreated to his desk to open the drawer and extract a small pistol.  With it clutched in his fist, his walked purposefully back to the man who fought to regain his senses.  With a grin, the Mexican stretched his arm and pulled back the trigger, satisfied that he had won at last.

In his disoriented state, Travis heard the click of the revolver as it was cocked and ready to fire at him.  It seemed like hours before the chamber was exposed and the bullet was exploded from the pistol.  The shot rang out in a mighty clap of thunder and was followed by dizzying silence.  When he opened his eyes, he saw the Mexican slip in slow motion to the floor at his feet.  Confused, he shook his head and rubbed his eyes.  By that time, Tito was at his side, helping him to his feet.

“Are you alright, Corbett?” Tito called to him from what seemed like far away. “He got you rattled, didn’t he, boy?  Why, if I hadn’t shot him when I did…”

Travis grabbed Tito’s shirt with his fists and growled, “You son of a bitch!  Why did you kill him?”

“Hold up there, boy.  I didn’t kill him,” Tito defended himself.  “I just winged him.  He’ll be healthy enough to stand trial.”

Travis shook his head again and allowed his friend to lift him to his feet as he said, “Well, thanks, Tito.  Looks like you came in the nick of time.  You saved my life…again.”

“Well, now.  I couldn’t let that bastard take you away from that filly you’ve got hiding in that stable,” Tito answered with a chuckle.

“Is she alright?  Did she get the boy?” Travis asked as he rubbed his sore head.

“Yep.  Both are fine.  Now let’s get you back to her so I can get this place cleaned up.”

“What do you mean?” Travis asked as Tito led him out of the house and into the streets that were now quiet and calm.