Deadfall (17 page)

“That's one hell of a lot of greenbacks,” said Charley. “What makes you think I have access to that kind of money?”

“I have read that you are a rich Texas rancher . . . Plus, I know all about your cattle drive last year, and I have been advised of how much money you must have collected by now from certain American corporations for your endorsement of their products.”

Charley broke into a laugh.

“Now ain't that something,” he said. “You're assuming I'm a millionaire because of that?”

“You are correct, señor,” said the Don. “Most likely you are a millionaire several times over.”

“Well, I'm not,” said Charley. “Not even my friend who backed me on that cattle auction, and the drive afterward, has that kind of dough.”

“Fifty thousand dollars is the price I am asking, señor,” said Don Sebastian, “for the release of the four people I have in my custody.”

Roscoe, Holliday, and Feather were grouped together nearby, whispering among themselves while the two men talked. Finally, Roscoe broke away from the little gathering and turned to Charley.

“C.A.?” said Roscoe, then he whispered, “Holliday, Feather, and me can get you all the ransom money you need.”

“Quit being silly, Roscoe,” said Charley. “This is serious business we're talking about here.”

“I mean it, Charley,” Roscoe said again. “If the Don will excuse us for a minute . . .”

Don Sebastian nodded. Charley turned and joined Roscoe, Holliday, and Feather. They all leaned in for a whispered discussion. Finally . . .

“And you're sure of that,” said Charley.

Roscoe answered, “Cross my heart an' hope ta die, it's the God's truth.”

“And I'll swear to it on a stack a' Bibles,” said Holliday.

Feather didn't seem to be as eager as the others, but he eventually agreed.

“It's true, Boss. We're all tellin' you the truth.”

Charley slowly turned back to the Don.

“Give me two days and I'll have your ransom for you.”

Don Sebastian's mouth grew into a large smile.

“Only the four of you will go,” said the Don. “I will return to you your weapons and send some of my guards with you.”

“No guards, Don Sebastian,” said Charley. “Release the four of us, and we'll have your ransom back here in two days, just as I've said I would.”

The Don pondered for a moment, then he turned to his captain of the guard.

“Andrés,” he said, “give these four men their weapons . . . and bring them their horses.”

Andrés shouted out some orders in Spanish, and they were followed out immediately. Rifles and pistols were returned to Charley, Roscoe, Holliday, and Feather. At the same time, two other guards brought them their horses.

All four of them mounted. Charley turned to those remaining members of the outfit.

“You'll be safe here,” he told them. “We will only be gone two days at the most.”

He turned back to the Don.

“And, Don Sebastian,” he added, “we'll be needing the burro . . . plus that two-wheel cart Colonel Armendariz inherited when he took the Indian, his wife, and my grandson into custody.”

He turned to the colonel.

“Do you think you can get along without it?”

The Don pointed across the yard to where the burro belonging to the sergeant and Mitch Pennell was tied beside the cart.

“Captain,” said the Don, “would you please hitch the burro to the cart and bring them over here?”

Again, the captain called out an order in Spanish. Within moments, the rope attached to the burro and cart were handed over to Feather.

“Thank you, Don Sebastian,” said Charley. “As I said, we will be back with the ransom in two days.”

“If not in two days,” said the Don, “these others will become my permanent prisoners.”

“Two days it is,” said Charley, so the other members of the outfit could hear him. Roscoe borrowed Henry Ellis's horse, then he, Charley, Holliday, and Feather reined around and headed for the open country as the sun began to rise.

C
HAPTER
T
WENTY-TWO

They had been away from the
hacienda
for less than three hours. The horses had just started climbing a steep embankment, where the road was leading them, when a man's Spanish-accented voice called out in broken English from somewhere close by.

“
Alto!
. . . Stop where you are,
amigos
,” the voice said. “Stop, and throw down your weapons.”

Roscoe and Feather made moves indicating they were about to follow the man's order, but Charley motioned for them not to be so hasty.

Charley's right hand slowly dropped down to retrieve his Walker Colt, which was sticking out of his boot top.

“Who are you?” he yelled. “And what do you want from us?”

He was met by silence.

Charley indicated to the others to go ahead and draw their weapons.

In moments, Charley and his friends could hear horses' hooves on shale, then eight Mexican bandits rode down from their hiding place behind a rocky formation to the left of them.

The Mexican leading this band of cutthroats was none other than Pedro Jose Bedoya, the same bandit who'd led Elisabeth's welcoming committee several days earlier. Charley recognized the man from the detailed description Elisabeth had given him, right down to the red neckerchief he wore.

All of them had their weapons drawn. In order to make it even, Charley motioned for his friends to raise their guns as well.

The two factions eventually met in the road's center—a flat area that could accommodate all the horses. As they faced off, Bedoya spurred out a little until he was facing Charley. Their horses' noses were almost touching.

Bedoya waved his pistol.

“I think . . . that I have ordered you to throw down your weapons,” said the bandit leader.

Charley waved his Walker Colt, imitating the Mexican.

“I think,” Charley began, “that throwing down our weapons might just get us killed. No, sir,” he continued. “Since we already have our guns aimed at you and your men, throwing down our weapons won't happen any time soon, as far as I'm concerned. Now, what do you want from us?” Charley asked.

“We were most interested in what is in the little cart being pulled by the burro,” said Bedoya. “Maybe you people are gold prospectors? No? Or maybe you are delivering a payroll to one of the mines?”

“We are prospectors, señor,” said Charley, “but our cart has yet to be filled. You have come across us before we have had the chance to do any mining. Sorry,” he added.

“Then you should not mind if we look into that cart,” said Bedoya.

“Be my guest,” answered Charley.

Bedoya motioned for one of his men to check it out.

“Bernardo,” he said.

The man called Bernardo rode over and dismounted. He raised the lid on the cart and revealed it to be empty.

“Not even supplies for your stay in my country?” asked the bandit leader.

“All the supplies we need we carry on our horses . . . in our saddlebags.”

“For some reason, señor, I do not believe you,” said Bedoya. “But you have shown us that you have no gold, so we are all lucky that no bullets have been fired.”

“Now, that's a fact,” said Charley. “Why don't you and your men go back to where you came from, and me and my men will continue on our way . . . no bullets exchanged by either of us. Is that agreeable to you, señor?”

“
Sí
. . . I agree,” answered Bedoya.

With all guns still cocked and aimed, both parties began reining their horses back, until there was a good separation between the two parties. Finally, Bedoya turned his animal around and signaled for his men to follow. The bandits scrambled back up the incline, then disappeared into the sparse vegetation behind some closer rock formations.

 

 

Since they were approaching from a different direction than they had come the first time, it took Roscoe, Holliday, and Feather a little longer to recognize the familiar landmarks they had hoped would help them locate the way to the cave.

They arrived at the cavern's entrance at dusk, just as the sun was going down—and just in time to set up a little campsite inside in almost the same spot the three of them had camped on their initial visit.

The threesome was able to show Charley the findings by torchlight—the Spanish soldier's body, his helmet, and after some digging, the iron box containing the gold and the other treasures it held within.

Charley couldn't help showing wonderment at the sparkling collection.

“So, what were you boys going to do with all of this if Don Sebastian hadn't asked us for a ransom?” he wanted to know.

“Well,” answered Feather, “I recollect we was plannin' on comin' back fer it all after we got home ta Texas. We figured there was no use tellin' anyone about it if we wasn't close enough ta lay claim to, or protect, the stuff from the kind of men who are willin' ta kill fer things like gold treasure boxes.”

“Well, at least you know now that it isn't only poor bandits who are willing to kill for treasure like this,” said Charley. “Wealthy bandits will murder for it, too.”

“At first, one of us was goin' ta stay with it until the others got back,” said Holliday. “But the more we thought on it, the more we realized that it might be months, let alone years, before we could all get together ta haul it all out.”

“Roscoe,” said Charley, “it isn't like you not to tell me about something like this.”

“Sorry, C.A.,” said Roscoe, “but somethin' this big just had ta be kept secret . . .”

“I know, I understand,” said Charley.

“I woulda told you once we were back across the border,” Roscoe added. “Honest I would. But it wasn't gonna do nobody any good if we could never come back here . . . the three of us, I mean.”

“Well,” said Charley, “we best go ahead and bring the cart over so we can start loading 'er up.”

“Yes, Boss,” said Feather.

Feather, Holliday, and Roscoe ran to retrieve the burro and cart—they led the animal over to where Charley was still standing beside the open iron box.

“All right,” said Charley, “let's fill 'er up.”

All four of them began shoveling the gold—coins, chalices, and jewelry—with their bare hands, from the iron box into the cart.

When they were finished doing that little chore, they backed away to admire their handiwork.

“What about him?” asked Holliday, pointing to the dead Spaniard.

Charley took another look at the mummified body and the armor, which half covered the crumbling bones.

“We'll leave him here,” he told them. “We may be a lot of things, but we ain't grave robbers. And that's a fact.”

He started walking over to where their horses were tied off. The others followed, with Feather leading the burro and cart.

“We can either head back now,” said Charley, “or we can grab a few hours of shut-eye and leave later on toward morning. What'll it be, boys?”

They chose the two hours of rest.

 

 

A short time later, when they were all sitting around the campfire chewing on jerky and drinking coffee, Holliday had a question for Charley.

“The load we got in that cart sure looks like it'd trade out fer a lot more'n fifty thousand American dollars, Charley.”

“Probably would,” said the ex-Ranger. “But I'd rather we take more with us than not enough. We want to make Don Sebastian happy, don't we?”

“Yes, Boss,” said Feather.

“You always seem ta know what yer' doin', C.A.,” said Roscoe, “that's fer sure.”

“Maybe we oughta cover it up with somethin',” said Feather. “If we happen ta pass someone on the trail back to the
hacienda
, and they see what we got, it could be all over fer all of us. Especially if those bandits happen ta show up again.”

“If we meet up with anyone on the trail that's got the grit to try and take it from us, I welcome them to try,” said Charley, pulling his Walker Colt out of his boot and spinning the cylinder. He cocked, then reset, the hammer before snapping the gate closed. “If every one of us just keeps their eyes open,” he continued, “there ain't going to be no one trying to take this gold from us.”

“Hey, C.A.?” said Roscoe, “if it does turn out that the gold is worth more than the amount the Don is askin' fer in ransom, do you think he'll let us keep the change?”

After they all had a good laugh, Charley said, “Go to sleep, Roscoe. Wake us all up in four hours, will you?”

 

 

Charley woke up in two hours. The campfire's flames were much lower, the still-glowing embers cast a much weaker light throughout the cavern. The others were snoring soundly beside him.

He could also hear the murmuring of Spanish-speaking voices.

He opened his eyes very slowly. Through crossed lashes he saw the bobbing of many
sombreros
in the flickering reflection of the fire—it was the gang of Mexican bandits they had encountered on the road earlier. They were also silhouetted by the glow of the moon outside the cavern. And it appeared their number had grown in size.

Charley counted twelve this time.

Charley knew that one move, one tiny word to the others, could get them all killed. Even so, his right hand slowly crept down to the butt of his Walker Colt that was protruding from the top of his boot. He slowly drew the large revolver, then he brought it up to his chest, where his bedroll was covering him up to the neck.

That number of men, so close by, confused him.
They must have followed us from where we parted back up the trail
, he thought. He felt lucky, though. In spite of the fact the bandits had found the cavern, his thought continued:
What if these men were
federales
, instead, hoping to capture someone doing something illegal? Or they could have been another band of Mexicans, Armendariz's gang, perhaps, who happened to stumble upon the cave by seeing the fire's light coming from inside, and were now exploring.

Feather, sleeping comfortably on Charley's left side, passed some gas, then he turned onto his back where he immediately began to snore again.

Every single bandit nearby stood completely still, waiting for the smallish man to awaken. When he didn't, when he just kept right on snoring, the Mexicans let out a communal sigh of relief.

Roscoe, sleeping to Charley's right, appeared to have been disturbed by the noises Feather was making. But in no time, he was breathing in his customary way, as if nothing had happened.

“Bernardo,” Bedoya called out in a whisper.

Within moments, Bedoya was joined by the one answering to the name Bernardo.

“
Sí, jefe
,” said Bernardo. “What is it you wish?”

“If the Lord is with us,” said Bedoya, “we will not have to wake these
Americanos.
We will search in their saddlebags for money and other things of value, and when we are finished, we will be on our way.”

“Are you not afraid of these
gringos
?” said Bernardo. “There could be more of them, you know.”

“I am not afraid, Bernardo,” said Bedoya. “But I recently came across an American—a woman—on the trail, who was very cunning. She presented herself as one thing but became another. And before I realized it, I had lost my favorite horse and two of my best men because of that woman. I do not wish for the same kind of confrontation with these
Americanos
. . . so we must do what we have to do, as quickly as we can, and be back on our journey again, before they know what has happened.”

“
Sí
,” said Bernardo. “I will tell the men.”

It's a damn shame
, thought Charley as he continued to lay low in his bedroll, watching the gang members as they rummaged through everyone's saddlebags.
Just a shame that I can't warn the others without having every single one of these cutthroats turn on us, followed by a hail of Mexican bullets.
”

So he had to watch—just lay there and watch—while they eventually spotted the burro and the two-wheeled cart.

When it was discovered there was gold inside, word of the finding was spread through excited whispers to avoid waking the Americans.

The bandits spent another few minutes searching the rest of the cave, with one of them crossing himself rapidly when he came across the body of the ancient Spaniard lying beside Feather's recently reopened excavation.

The gang members finally gave up. They left the cave, mounted their horses outside, and awaited the command from Bedoya to ride away from the cavern.

Charley continued to watch silently while one of the
bandidos
rode his horse back into the cavern, then over to the burro. He untied the rope, then led the animal, the cart, and the gold it was carrying out of the cave. He joined the others.

Bedoya and the men rode away, disappearing into the mist of the creeping dawn.

 

 

Charley didn't wait for the others to wake up naturally; he grabbed his canteen and walked up and down the row of bedrolls, splashing water onto everyone's face.

Within moments, all three of them were awake and sputtering like fish out of water.

“Aw, geez,” said Holliday.

“Cut it out, will ya, Boss?” shrieked Feather.

“Leave me alone, damnit, I'm tryin' ta sleep,” shouted Roscoe.