Deadfall (19 page)

The ex–Texas Ranger turned a very sober face to Don Sebastian.

“You gave us two days to bring the ransom . . . and we're here to deliver it even sooner than that.”

“I gave you one day,” said Don Sebastian with a look just as restrained as Charley's.

The members of the outfit began arguing back and forth until Charley stopped them all with a raised hand.

His eyes were still glued to the Don.

“You told us two days, Don Sebastian,” said Charley. “And that's a fact. There's your ransom, in the cart . . .”

He pointed to the two-wheeled cart nearby.

“. . . Not a boy's ransom,” he went on, “but a king's ransom. There is your blood money, Don Sebastian . . . in gold, not American dollars. It's all worth the same . . . even more.”

The Don motioned for Andrés to check out the contents of the cart.

The captain walked over to the cart and threw back its wool
poncho
cover. He lifted the lid to reveal the entire Spanish treasure—the glittering gold threw off brilliant reflections in every direction.

Eyes lit up all around.

“Bring me a coin,” said the Don.

Andrés picked up one of the gold coins, took it over to his employer, and handed it to him.

Don Sebastian gave the coin the usual test by biting on its edge. The expression on his face showed he believed the coinage to be authentic.

“Are you satisfied, Don Sebastian?” said Charley, dismounting, then moving over to the two-wheeled cart with its golden shimmer.

“Very satisfied,” said Don Sebastian. “But now that you have missed the deadline, it can only be a wonderful gift I must always be grateful to you for bringing to me.”

“C'mon, Don Sebastian. Quit pulling my leg,” said Charley.

The Don drew in a large breath of air and expelled it.

“I am not, as you say, pulling your legs, Señor Sunday. I am dead serious about what I am telling you. This gold now belongs to me . . . as do the boy and the Indian who are still in hiding on my property, along with the boy's mother and father. You may call it a penalty for your being a day late with the ransom.”

“So, you now know it's Rod Lightfoot who is missing from the group,” said Charley.

“With thanks to my friend, Colonel Armendariz, who reminded me that the Indian was not with his wife as he always is. Now, since you and your friends are visitors to my country, I would like to let you all go back to the United States unharmed.

“I will return your weapons to you after my men have escorted you back to the border. All you have to do in return is to promise me that you will stay on your side of the river from now on. Simple, no?” he added.

“Simple, yes,” said Charley. “But not as simple as you think it'll be.”

Fuerte stepped in beside Charley. He looked up at Don Sebastian, who was still standing in the carriage.

“Señor Sunday and his friends will go, Don Sebastian.”

Charley nudged him hard, then he spoke under his breath.

“No one's going to send me and my outfit running back home to Texas with our tails between our legs, Roca. Oh no . . . I won't have that.”

Fuerte raised his eyebrows to Charley, trying to make a point as he whispered to his friend.

“There are still no odds in our favor at this time,
mi amigo
. If we stay here and argue with the Don, Señor Charley, it will prove nothing. We have no weapons. We are outnumbered. We must do what he tells us to do.”

Charley started to open his mouth to say something.

Fuerte cut him off.

“You must trust me, Señor Charley. You are in my country now . . . I know how things work here in Mexico.”

“But I—” said Charley, and then in a whisper to Fuerte, “whatever you say, Roca. Under the circumstances I find that I must go along with whatever you say.”

Charley looked back to the Don.

“All right,” he said. “I will promise you, Don Sebastian. When your men escort us to the border, I assure you we will not return . . . you have my word on that.”

Don Sebastian turned to Armendariz.

“If you agree, Colonel, we will soon be rid of these thorns in our side.”

“I agree,” said Armendariz.

“All right,” said the Don, “send some of your men to get their horses.”

He turned back to Charley.

“Some of my guards, along with the colonel and his men, will accompany you to the border. Like I said before, once you are there, your weapons will be returned to you.”

Betty Jean and Rod continued to wait inside the creek house. Like Henry Ellis, they had not slept in two days.

Henry Ellis had slipped out into the courtyard earlier. He had spotted yet another building he thought could be the
hacienda
's dispensary. He took a roundabout way of getting there because of the presence of more guards than usual in the area.

Once he reached the side of the building he hoped was the hospital, Henry Ellis stood on a rock so he could peer into a window.

By doing so, he found that it was indeed the hospital he had been searching for. There were only a few patients on the cots inside, and the boy figured they must either be
hacienda
workers or other guards who had been injured, or come down sick. His eyes searched the large room for signs of doctors and nurses, but he only saw one person in a white coat—it was being worn by a man sitting at a desk in a small office annex at the front of the building.

Henry Ellis took a better look, squeezing his eyelids together to improve his focus. By doing this, he was able to see that there was another man sitting across the desk from the man wearing the white coat. The second man wore a brown suit—an American-tailored suit. And when the boy was finally able to get a better look at the second man's face, he was relieved to find that the man in the suit was his father.

Now, to get you out of here, Father
, Henry Ellis thought to himself. He found a side entrance that would take him inside. Once there, he began to make his way carefully toward the front of the building.

 

 

A few members of Armendariz's gang, along with six guards belonging to Don Sebastian, were chosen to get the Texans their horses. When they returned, the outfit was ordered to mount up.

Dice, along with the other three men's horses, was now tied off to a hitching post. Charley swung onto Dice's back. Roscoe headed toward the chuckwagon, while Feather and Holliday were mounting up.

Charley waited in his saddle while the rest of the outfit searched for their mounts.

“Señor Fuerte,” Don Sebastian called out to Roca, “you will not be going with them . . . you will remain as my guest at the
hacienda
. Please come over here.”

Fuerte led his horse over to the carriage where he was met by two guards—one was pointing a rifle at him.

“Señor Fuerte,” said the Don, “since you are a citizen of Mexico, I will make it my business to see that you are delivered to the proper authorities.”

“I am in no position to argue, Don Sebastian,” said Fuerte. “I will go wherever you wish for me to go.”

The two guards turned Fuerte around, making him face the Don. They continued to hold his arms down at his sides.

Don Sebastian pulled a pistol from his sash, aiming it at Fuerte.

“Many years ago,” said the Don, “when I was a much younger man . . . and you were leading the
Rurales
in this part of the country, you arrested me and some of my
compadres
for a robbery we did not commit. I am still grateful to this day that the judge at my trial understood that my friends and I had nothing to do with that robbery, and set us free. But still, on the day of my release, I made a vow . . . to find and kill the man who set me up to be arrested for a crime I did not commit.”

With that, he turned slightly and pulled the trigger.

Don Sebastian's bullet caught Bedoya in the solar plexus, knocking the unsuspecting bandit leader back a few feet until he was stopped by the rear end of a guard's horse. And with a look of genuine surprise showing on his countenance, he slowly fell forward, facedown in the dirt.

An unexpected sigh of relief escaped from Elisabeth's lips.

 

 

Henry Ellis was walking down an aisle between the dispensary's beds toward the office annex at the front of the building when he heard the shot. It was only one shot, so he knew immediately that a battle hadn't started. He just kept on walking.

On occasion, he would have to slow down and quietly tiptoe when passing a bed that contained a sleeping patient. When he had gotten a little closer, he would speed up again, keeping his eyes on his objective—the office annex and the two men inside—still some distance down the aisle in front of him.

When he was about fifteen feet away, he dropped down to his hands and knees and crawled the remaining distance.

He had to be as quiet as he could to avoid making any sounds that might echo in the high-ceilinged room.

When he reached the door to the office annex he could hear a heavily accented voice, plus his father's voice, in deep conversation.

“As I told you before,” said Kent, Henry Ellis's father, “I feel much better now. I would like very much to go back to be with my wife . . . I am more than certain she is very worried about me by now.”

“Relax, Señor Pritchard,” said the man. “You are in the right place for someone with your illness.”

“I've told you many times that I feel just fine now,” said Kent. “It was only this morning when I felt somewhat under the weather. Please send me back to my wife, sir. I beg of you with all I have in me.”

“Sick or not sick,” said the man, “the Don wants you here . . . and it is here you will stay. Even if I must order that you be restrained and sedated . . . by force, if that is necessary.”

“You're not going to do anything to hurt my father, mister.”

It was Henry Ellis with the derringer in his hand pointed at the man in the white coat.

His father had a very surprised look on his face.

“Henry Ellis,” he said. “How did you get here? We thought you were—”

“I'm alive, Father,” said the boy. “Look at me. Take my hand if you want, feel me, but I'm very much alive. Now,” he said to his father, “I need a room with a lock and no windows for this other gentleman.”

 

 

Rod ducked back farther into the shadows of the creek house interior, taking Betty Jean with him. He had heard Spanish-speaking voices and they seemed to be getting closer.

“Has anyone checked the building over the creek?” said one of the voices in Spanish.

“We searched that structure thoroughly, my captain,” said the voice again in Spanish.

“And you found nothing?”

“
Sí
, my captain . . . we found nothing.”

“We must still search the building once again,” said Andrés in Spanish. “We must go back inside and—”

He stopped speaking as another guard on horseback rode up and reined to a stop.

“Captain,” said the rider, “your presence is required at the dispensary immediately. And bring the men you have with you. They may be needed.”

Both Betty Jean and Rod breathed easier as the guards' footsteps faded into the distance.

“That was a close one,” said Betty Jean.

Rod nodded.

Suddenly there was the sound of splashing water. Rod and Betty Jean turned just as Henry Ellis and his father entered the creek house from the rear of the structure.

“Oh, my God . . .” said Betty Jean, “it's you, Kent . . . you're safe.”

The two fell into each other's arms and held one another very close for a time.

“I'm glad to see that you found him,” said Rod.

He patted Henry Ellis on the back.

“Thank you, son,” said Kent.

“You were wonderful, Henry Ellis,” added his mother.

“I did it, Rod,” said the boy. “I saved my mother
and
my father . . . plus, I didn't have to shoot anybody.”

He showed Rod the derringer Charley had given him.

“Put that away, Henry Ellis,” said Rod. “Hide it on yourself where they will never think of looking if they capture you again.”

“Yes, sir, Rod,” said the boy.

He turned away from them and tucked the tiny gun somewhere beneath the folds of his clothing. He turned back around, smiling.

In seconds the smile turned to one of complete surprise. Standing behind Rod and his parents were Andrés, the captain of the guard, and five of his
hacienda
sentries. Their weapons were pointed at the group.