The Border Empire (18 page)

“It's late enough in the afternoon,” Wes said. “They should be ready for business.”

Wes pounded on the door with the butt of one of his Colts, while El Lobo waited uncertainly behind him. When the madam finally appeared, she eyed the duo suspiciously, but Wes had his foot in the door before she could close it.

“It is the time of the
siesta,”
she objected.

“The
siesta
just ended,” said Wes. “We're lookin' for a particular
setiorita.”

She was still doing her best to close the door when Wes extended his hand. In his palm was one of the dragon medallions, and it produced the desired effect. Without a word, the woman allowed them to enter, and then closed the door behind them. She then spoke a single word.

“Yes,” Wes said. “We want to see all of them.”

“No
comprender.”

Wes drew his right-hand Colt and placed its muzzle under her chin.

“All the
señoritas,”
said Wes.
“Comprende?”

“Si,”
she replied.

She turned as though to mount the stairs, and in the split-second her back was to Wes, she drew from her bosom a .41-caliber derringer. She whirled, and there was barely time for Wes to seize her wrist with his left hand. The pocket pistol roared, dropping dust and plaster from the ceiling. His Colt still in his right hand, Wes slammed the muzzle of it against the woman's head. She slid to the floor, unconscious.

“That shot may bring the law,” said Wes. “We may not have much time, but we'd better bind and gag this old
señorita.
Never trust a woman after she's tried to kill you.”

Quickly they bound the woman with cords cut from window blinds, and El Lobo tore enough from the bottom of her long dress for a gag.

“I don't know Tamara,” Wes said, “so you'll have to visit all the
señoritas.
Come on.”

They took the stairs two at a time and found themselves looking down a long hall. Wes knocked on the first door, but there was no response. A knock on the second door went unanswered.

“Damn it,” said Wes, “we don't have time to be polite.”

He turned the knob of the first door and, finding the room empty, tried the second door, only to find another empty room. In the third room, a girl had drawn a sheet over her head. Wes yanked it off, but El Lobo shook his head. The naked girl wasn't Tamara. Quickly they found three more women, none of whom was the girl El Lobo sought. There were just two more doors at the end of the hall. One of the rooms was empty, but in the last one, an American girl with auburn hair sat on the edge of a rumpled bed. She wore nothing, and her face was buried in her hands. It seemed her very soul had been taken from her, and only when she lifted her head did her eyes go wide with the shock of recognition.

“Wes!” she cried. “Wes!”

She was pitifully thin, and when she got to her feet, she stumbled and fell. Shocked for only an instant, Wes was by her side.

“Renita,” he cried, “I left you in El Paso. ”How ... why ...”

He helped her to her feet, and she sank down on the bed, weeping wildly.

“Your woman?” El Lobo asked softly.

“My woman,” said Wes.

“I go,” El Lobo said. “Keep watch.”

He fully understood the danger, for a shot had been fired, and at any moment their presence in the house might be discovered. Wes took Renita by the shoulders and shook her. There was no time for hysterics, and she gradually became aware of their precarious position.

“We have to get out of here,” Wes said. “Where are your clothes?”

“In El Paso,” she said between sobs, “but what does it matter? I've been here too long. I've been used. I've been made a whore, and nothing will ever be the same. I can't expect you to pretend it never happened.”

“I won't pretend it never happened,” said Wes, “but there's one thing that won't ever change. You're the same girl I left in El Paso, and you're being here is no fault of yours. Whatever's been done to you, I still want you. Has it changed your feelings for me?”

“Oh, dear God, no!” she cried. “I ... I just thought ... I'd lost you forever ... because of ... of what ... I've become.”

“Then dress yourself in whatever you can find,” said Wes. “I'm taking you with me.”

“Go with me while I look in some of the empty rooms,” she said. “There must be something I can wear.”

“You're thinner than when I first found you in El Paso,” said Wes. “Have they been starving you?”

“I've been starving myself,” Renita replied. “Since the day they took me, I've prayed that I could die. Who is that ... riding with you?”

“He used to be one of the outlaws I came to kill,” said Wes, “until they tried to kill him. He calls himself El Lobo, but his real name is Palo Elfego. We came here looking for Tamara Delmano, a Spanish girl the outlaws stole away from San Ignacio. El Lobo wanted her, and I reckon she wanted him, but her daddy—Hernando Delmano—is a prideful old varmint that gave El Lobo the gate. We've been givin' the Sandlin outlaws hell, and we had the notion that maybe Tamara was still in Mazatlán, that they hadn't taken her away.”

“Perhaps she was one of the two girls brought here,” Renita said. “One of them was Mexican, but the other could have been Spanish. They were kept here three days and were taken away yesterday. The two men who brought them here said they were to be broken in before taking them aboard. I believe he was referring to a ship, because that's how I was brought here. I was taken west in a wagon, to the Gulf of California, and we sailed from there.”

In a closet in one of the vacant rooms, Renita found some long dresses, one of which wasn't large enough to swallow her.

“I have nothing to wear under it,” she said.

“No matter,” said Wes. “Somehow we'll have to get you a horse, and if we're able to manage that, I reckon we can find you some britches and a shirt.”

“Some shoes or boots, too?”

“We'll try,” Wes said. “Come on, and let's get out of here.”

Descending the stairs, they found El Lobo keeping watch at the front door. The Mexican madam lay where they had left her, but she was conscious, and her dark eyes fairly glittered with hatred. On impulse, Renita seized the hem of the woman's long dress, drawing it almost over her head.

“Let her feet loose,” said Renita. “She has something I can use.'

Mystified, Wes did so. Renita peeled off the madam's underdrawers and, raising her own skirt, wriggled into them. El Lobo watched with interest, a twinkle in his eyes.

“I don't like straddling a horse in a dress with my behind bare,” Renita said.

Wes bound the madam's ankles, and they left the house. Empty had remained with the horses, and nothing seemed amiss.

“El Lobo—also known as Palo Elfego—this is Renita,” said Wes. “From what she's told me, two girls were kept here for three days, and then possibly taken to a ship. One of them was Spanish and might have been Tamara Delmano.”

“El Lobo thanks you,” he said, bowing. “There is hope for Tamara.”

“Damn right,” said Wes. “Let's ride.”

 

 

R
enita riding with Wes, the three of them reached the foothills above the harbor. In the distance, men were still loading the ship flying the Mexican flag.

“That one's gettin' ready to sail,” Wes said, “but if it's a slaver, why are they loading other cargo?”

“The one that brought me had other cargo,” said Renita. “I was locked in an iron cage on a lower deck with the freight.”

“We'll have to board her,” Wes said. “It'll soon be dark.”

“I go,” said El Lobo.

“You're not going alone,” Wes said. “You don't know how many armed men you may be facing. Getting yourself killed won't help Tamara. Renita, we'll have to find a safe place to hide you.”

“No,” said Renita, “I don't want to be left alone. I want to go with you. I'll stay with the horses, and you can leave Empty with us.”

“Bueno,”
El Lobo said.
“Señorita
sensato.”

Wes couldn't argue with that. Being in hostile territory, Renita would be safer with Empty and the horses than she would be in the mountains alone. The vessel bearing the Mexican flag was the last in a line of four anchored near the dock. As darkness fell, there was the dim glow of a lantern on the prow of the ship being loaded.

“They may be sailing tonight,” said Wes. “We don't have any time to spare.”

They reined up several hundred yards from the dock, in the shadow of a warehouse whose far end faced the bay. Four men wrestled barrels and crates from the warehouse to the ship that was being loaded.

“Renita,” Wes said, “you and Empty will stay here with the horses. El Lobo, you and me have to get inside that warehouse while all four of those hombres are somewhere between it and the ship. We'll buffalo them two at a time, and we should be able to board the ship before they come to their senses. But once aboard, we don't know how many of the outlaws we'll be facing. No shooting if it can be avoided. If there's no other way, we'll go over the side and swim for it. Ready?”

“Si,” El Lobo said.

Keeping within the shadow of the building, they crept as near the front of the warehouse as they dared. Wes watched the dockworkers until he had some idea as to how long it took two of the men to deposit their cargo on board and return to the warehouse. As two of them approached the ship with their load, the second pair headed for the building. Wes nudged El Lobo, and as the men stepped through the door, Wes and El Lobo were behind them, each with a Colt in his hand. Both men were unconscious following swift blows to the head. Wes and El Lobo dragged them away from the door and waited for their companions to return. But the returning pair were curious.

“Hola,”
one shouted.
“Perezoso perros.”
¹⁷

They paused, reassured only after El Lobo uttered some convincing swear words in Spanish. When they entered, Wes took one and El Lobo the other, leaving them with their unconscious comrades.

“Let's go,” said Wes. “We don't have any idea what's ahead of us, and we may not have much time. ”

They ran across the dock, thankful that the gang-plank was in shadow. Apparently the upper deck was devoted only to cargo. Recalling what Renita had said about being locked in a cabin on the lower deck, Wes began looking for a way down. When he found it, there was only a dark hole, with a ladder. Somewhere below, there was a light, and Wes started down, El Lobo right behind him. Wes dropped the last few feet to the lower deck, and it was all that saved him. There was a roar, a muzzle flash, and lead sang off one of the iron rungs of the ladder. Wes drew and fired just as El Lobo dropped to the deck behind him. There was a groan and the sound of a gun striking the deck. El Lobo had drawn his Colt, but there were no more shots. The two captive women were imprisoned in an iron cage at the far end of the lower deck. There were two narrow bunks along one wall, and a slop jar, and nothing more. The two women had been stripped, and there were scabbed-over sores on their bare backs where they had been beaten. One of the girls was clearly Mexican, while the other could have been American. It was the latter who spoke.

“Palo! Palo Elfego!”

“Tamara,” said El Lobo. “I have come for you.”

“Palo,” she cried, “it is too late. I have been defiled.”

Wes was going through the pockets of the dead outlaw. He found a handful of gold coins, several of which bore the image of the dragon. Among them was a key. Quickly he inserted it in the lock, opened the barred door, and swung it wide. Without a word, the Mexican girl sprang out the door, ran to the distant hatch, and disappeared up the ladder. There were shouts from somewhere above, evidence enough that the dockworkers had come to their senses and were sounding the alarm. To Wes, it seemed that Tamara was in shock, for she gripped the iron bars of the cell door and stared at El Lobo as though he had risen from the dead.

“Pry her loose from those bars and let's get out of here,” Wes said. “If we're trapped on this lower deck, there'll be hell to pay.”

His harsh words broke the spell. El Lobo seized the naked Tamara and, shoving her ahead of him, ran toward the iron-runged ladder that led to the upper deck. El Lobo gave Tamara a shove, starting her up the ladder, but her bare feet slipped and she would have fallen if El Lobo hadn't caught her.

“Damn it,” said Wes desperately, “get up there, and I'll lift her up to you.”

In an instant, El Lobo was up the ladder.

“Now,” Wes said to the naked girl, “raise your arms over your head so he can reach them. I'll lift you as far as I can.”

Wes lifted her, and she was limp, as though she had no strength. But she lifted her arms, and El Lobo was able to reach them. Wes scrambled up the ladder, and none too soon, for there was the thump of boots on the wooden dock and shouts of excited men. Wes drew his Colt and fired over their heads, only to have his fire returned.

“In among the freight,” Wes shouted.

He led the way, while El Lobo and Tamara followed. They ducked behind barrels and crates as lead sang over their heads.

“We'll have to go over the side, into the water,” said Wes.

Wes quickly discovered they were on the wrong side of the deck, for there was a ship anchored next to them, and someone aboard had lit a lantern. They now had to make their way across the deck to the other side, where there was only open water.