The Border Empire (21 page)

Swiftly, silently, they moved among the horses, touching an occasional flank to calm the animals. When all were loose, they returned to their own horses. They were almost in position, between the outlaw camp and the horses, when several of the loose animals began to nicker.

“Hey,” an outlaw shouted, “there's trouble with the horses!”

But the alarm came too late. Wes and El Lobo kicked their mounts into a fast gallop, and shouting, they charged. The loosed horses galloped away to the north. Although they had no targets, the frustrated outlaws had begun firing, and the fusillade further spooked the stampeding horses.

“Damn it,” Swenson complained, “we should of posted a guard. Rucker, you ain't no great shakes as
segundo.”

“There's twenty-one of us,” said Rinks. “Who'd ever have thought they'd have the nerve to slip in this close?”

“It's the only sensible thing they could have done,” Rucker conceded. “We're a bunch of damn fools for not expecting it. They couldn't be any more rid of us if we were dead.”

“Now what, Mr.
Segundo?”
Swenson asked.

“We begin hoofing it back the way we come,” said Rucker shortly, “and you'd better all be hopin' we catch up to them horses before they drift back to Mazatlán or Durango. If word of this gets out, Mexicans will be throwing rocks at us.”

Wes and El Lobo drove the horses north for more than an hour.

“That's near forty miles,” Wes said, “and they'll drift back to their home corrals on their own. That bunch will find it slow going, afoot and totin' their saddles.”

“Si,” said El Lobo. “This be more
comico
than shooting them.”

“I think so,” Wes agreed, “and more effective. These varmints have prospered here in Mexico because everybody's been afraid of them. Now they're being made to look like fools by just two hombres.”

It was very late when Wes and El Lobo returned to their own camp.

“Wes and El Lobo comin' in,” said Wes softly.

Only then did Tamara and Renita arise from cover, and in the moonlight Wes noted that Tamara had her revolver cocked and ready. She eased the weapon off cock, returning it to the holster.

“You were gone so long, we were starting to worry,” Renita said.

“It took a while,” said Wes. “We ran their horses at least forty miles north. They'll drift the rest of the way to their home corrals long before the Sandlin bunch can catch up to them.”

“It is a satisfying victory,” Tamara said.

“Yeah,” said Wes. “It'll play hell with their reputation when word of it gets around. I wonder if I shouldn't spread it a little faster by sending another telegram.”

“It's a temptation,” Renita said, “but that will just warn the others. The next time you go to stampede the horses, they'll be waiting for you with guns.”

“Por Dios,”
said El Lobo, “that be right. The telegraph must not talk.”

Tamara laughed. “You are wise warriors. These men who are afoot have been shamed. If they do not speak of this, it is a thing you may do again and again.”

Headquarters for the Sandlin gang had quietly been moved from Mexico City to the village of Toluca, several miles south. Here, in a board room within an elegant mansion, a dozen men met to pursue the gang's involvement in drug running, white slavery, rustling, prostitution, and other nefarious activities. About to call the meeting to order, Cord Sandlin looked upon the twelve hard-eyed men who had become known as Sandlin's Disciples. There was Jarvis, Canton, Tafolla, Zouka, Sumar, Knado, Handley, Wittrus, Moke, and Undilay. All were Americans, wanted for various crimes. Finally there were Hidalgo and Ximinez, both holding influential positions within the Mexican government.

“I had hoped this meeting would not be necessary,” Sandlin said. “It has to do with the troublesome pair who apparently destroyed our outposts at Namiquipa and Chihuahua.”

“We authorized payment of ten thousand dollars in rewards,” said Jarvis, and sent Black Bill Trevino to Durango to oversee the manhunt. What more can we do?”

“I'm not quite sure,” Sandlin replied. “That's the purpose of this meeting. I have some disturbing news from Mazatlán. Two men showed up at Madam Izona's, slugged her, and took an American girl. That same day, after dark, these two boarded a ship preparing to sail for California. They shot and killed one of our men and escaped with two women who had been secured on a lower deck. One of them went over the side and disappeared.”

“So two men made off with three whores, and one of them disappeared,” Canton said. “Who's gonna connect that to us, and how can it be proved?”

“The damn newspapers,” said Sandlin. “The
hombre
that was gunned down on the ship was searched before our outfit could get to him, and one of our dragon's-head coins was found in his pocket. Not only have we been linked to prostitution and slave trading, we've again been humiliated by just two men. People no longer fear us. Instead, they laugh, and if it continues, we're finished.”

“I was promised protection,” Hidalgo said. “I think per'ap it is time I withdraw.”

“Sí,”
said Ximinez. “Because of you and your promises of wealth, we betray the trust of the Mexican people.”

Sandlin laughed. “You sold out, and you're in this neck-deep, just like the rest of us. Nobody withdraws. There's enough evidence to send every damn one of us before a firing squad ten times over, and if I go, I promise you, I won't go alone.”

“If these
hombres
were last in Mazatlán,” said Jarvis, “they must be coming south. If they're hell-bent on destroying us, then they must be comin' here.”

“I've been waiting for some of you to reach that conclusion,” Sandlin said.

“I reckon you've already reached it,” said Sumar, “so why the hell did you go along with organizin' this manhunt in Durango?”

“With hundreds of men available, I believed we might capture this pair before they got to us,” Sandlin said. “Now—after their activities in Mazatlan—I believe they are on their way here.”

“That was a damn fool idea, orderin' ‘em captured alive,” said Wittrus. “You should of offered a reward for 'em dead.”

“I must agree with you,” Sandlin said. “We don't know if they're acting on their own, or if they're part of a conspiracy, but they must be stopped. I have another plan, and this one is costly, because it does not involve any of our men.”

“Our bunch ain't made much of a showin', so far,” said Jarvis. “Talk.”

“I favor hiring as many professional gunmen as we can find. Killers, to put it bluntly. Each is to be paid a thousand dollars in advance, and five thousand more for each of the two men when he can prove he has killed them. Can we find ten such killers?”

“Si,”
Ximinez said. “Per'ap more.”

“Put out the word, then,” said Sandlin. “I want them on the streets of Mexico City tomorrow.”

“Sí,”
Ximinez said. “You have the gold?”

“I have it,” said Sandlin grimly.

“Bueno,”
Ximinez said. “It be done.”

“This pair of hombres we're after can shoot like hell wouldn't have it,” said Sandlin. “You must be damn sure that when some of your gun-throwers get salted down, it can't be laid at our door.”

When Black Bill Trevino and Dolan Watts had dispatched groups of men all across south-central Mexico, Brodi Fentress spoke to Trevino.

“I'm ridin' to Mazatlán to see what I can learn firsthand.”

“Rucker, your
segundo,
went there just three days ago with twenty men,” Trevino reminded him.

“All the more reason for me to follow,” said Fentress. “They must've learned something, or we'd have heard from them. If they've discovered a lead, we're wasting a hell of a lot of time and men elsewhere.”

Fentress rode out, reaching Mazatlán just in time to witness the arrival of most of the horses Rucker and his men had been riding. They came drifting in from the south, looking lost, and immediately drew the interest of various people. People who, Fentress suspected, had watched the twenty-one men ride out. Somewhere, Rucker and his men were afoot. Or dead. Fentress began hazing the horses, seeking to gather them, but it was a difficult task, bordering on the impossible. He looked around, seeking help, but there was not a man in sight. The curious Mexicans had vanished like frightened quail. With a sigh, Fentress went about driving the horses back the way they had come.

 

Thirty miles south of Mazatlán, Rucker and his companions stumbled along on aching, blistered feet. They had long since abandoned their saddles.

“Damn it,” Swenson complained, “I say some of us should go after the horses while the rest wait here. We can draw lots.”

“Or we can send volunteers,” said Rucker. “You can be the first. Who wants to go with him?”

“Hell,” said somebody in disgust, “let ever'body go after his own horse. We're all at fault for not havin' the brains to keep watch over the horses.”

“That's the truth,” Rucker said. “Nobody's feet are more blistered than mine, and you don't hear me whinin'. Now shut up and keep hoofin' it.”

A few minutes before sundown, Fentress, driving ten horses ahead of him, met the bedraggled men. All of them, including Rucker, seemed speechless.

“I couldn't gather them all,” said Fentress, “and the Mexes were too amused to help. Ten of you will have to ride back and find the others, and you'd better not waste any time. Our reputation's suffered to the extent that the rest of your mounts may belong to somebody else before you can claim them.”

“Hell, that's a good thirty-five or forty miles each way,” Swenson complained, “an we got no saddles.”

“Then you'll ride bareback,” said Fentress in a dangerously brittle tone. “Those of you who claim these ten horses, mount up and get started.”

Slowly, ten men came forward, one of whom was Swenson. Some of them mounted with difficulty, lacking saddles and stirrups, but eventually they rode away toward Mazatlán.

“Now,” said Fentress, “how the hell did a salty bunch like you end up on foot, with your horses wandering loose in town?”

“No excuse,” Rucker said. “It was still early, and we hadn't posted a guard over the horses. They scattered 'em to hell and gone.”

“Damn near all the way to Mazatlán,” said Fentress. “They wouldn't have drifted that far on their own. Now, where would you say the bastards are that spooked them?”

“Somewhere to the south,” Rucker said.

“How do you know?” Fentress asked. “Were you trailing them?”

“No,” said Rucker. “We were followin' a hunch. Stayin' near the coast, using the trees for cover, I don't know how the hell they spotted us. Just the two of them, it's almighty close to unnatural, what they can do.”

“Well, they're not phantoms,” Fentress said. “If they're southbound, there has to be a trail. Once you have the rest of your horses, I want you to find that trail and stay with it for as far and as long as it takes you.”

“Most of those
hombres
you sent after the horses wasn't from my Durango outfit,” said Rucker. “I'd not be surprised if they just keep ridin'.”

“I would,” Fentress said, “because I aim to catch up to them. One way or another, you'll have horses sometime tomorrow.”

With that, Fentress rode away, bound for Mazatlán.

“I'm tempted to just keep ridin,” Swenson said to his nine companions as they rode uncomfortably toward Mazatlán. “Hell, I didn't tie in with this outfit to ride all over Mexico huntin' gun-happy hombres with a grudge.”

“I'm wanted on the other side of the border,” said Bailey, “and I can't imagine you bein' lily white.”

Rinks laughed. “Me neither. If ever'body wantin' to hang Swenson was brung together in a bunch, they'd have to git in line an' take a number.”

All the others laughed, and Swenson said no more. It was just as well, for soon there was the thud of hoofbeats. They reined up and waited until Fentress reached them.

“I reckoned you might need some help roundin' up them horses,” Fentress said.

 

The morning after stampeding the horses, Wes, El Lobo, Tamara, and Renita mounted and rode south. They remained in the mountains, and there was always the blue Pacific to the west. Occasionally the foothills became less wooded and they could see small villages along the distant coast.