The Border Empire (22 page)

“The dragon does not follow,” El Lobo said.

“They haven't had time to recover their horses,” said Wes. “We dealt them a blow, leaving them afoot, but they now know we're riding south. They'll be after us.”

“Oh, God,” Renita said, “I hope they don't figure out where we're going.”

“If they haven't, they will,” said Wes. “While we've discredited them all over Mexico, we haven't touched the varmints at the highest level. They've got to suspect that'll be our next move unless they stop us.”

“Many will pursue us,” Tamara said, “but you know the dragon well. His fangs are mighty, and they run deep. The real danger lies ahead.”

“There'll be more rain sometime today,” said Wes, “so by the time they're mounted, they won't find a trail to follow. We should reach Mexico City well ahead of them. It all depends on what we find waiting for us there.”

 

When Fentress and his ten companions reached Mazatlán, they had no trouble finding the missing horses. Mexican men watched in silence as they gathered the horses. They did not offer to help, nor did they seem afraid, and that bothered Fentress.

“Now,” Fentress said, when the horses had been recovered, “get the hell back to the rest of the men. There'll soon be another outfit followin' you.”

Fentress couldn't be sure of that, but it was a threat calculated to force the outlaws to return the horses to their footsore companions. Rucker would take it from there. With that assurance, Fentress rode to Durango. Another change in plans was in order.

 

“Well, by God,” said Black Bill Trevino when Fentress reported to him, “we've sent men east, all the way to the gulf. There's near six hundred strung out across south-central Mexico, and now we learn the bastards we're after are ridin' along the Sierra Madres.”

“Hell, I'm just telling you what's happened,” Fentress said angrily. “I didn't cause it.”

“We don't have time to fight among ourselves,” said Dolan Watts. “We gambled and lost. Now I think we all know where these pistoleers are bound.”

“Yeah,” Black Bill said. “They're on their way to Mexico City, and there's not a damn thing we can do about it.”

“You can use the telegraph,” said Fentress. “If you can't get the message across to Hidalgo and Ximinez, then I can.”

“Don't smartmouth me,” Trevino shouted. “If any messages are sent, I'll send them. It's my responsibility, not yours.”

“Thanks,” said Fentress, his voice dripping sarcasm. “I'll keep that in mind.”

Trevino saddled his horse and rode into Durango. Strong on his mind were his orders against using the telegraph, but a pair of dedicated killers were on their way to attack Sandlin's border empire in a manner that might well destroy it.

 

The sun was three hours high when Swenson and his companions returned with the needed horses.

“By God, it took you long enough,” Rucker said.

“You got your damn horses,” said Swenson. “Don't you start bully-raggin' us.”

“Mount up,” Rucker ordered. “Let's go after our saddles.”

Their saddles and supplies were where they had been left.

“We been ridin' all night,” said Swenson, “and I ain't goin' nowhere until I eat. Damn it, I'm starved.”

“No more so than the rest of us,” Rucker said grimly. “We have to make up for lost time. Now saddle up.”

Swenson turned away, but only for a moment. He whirled to face Rucker, and there was a gun in his hand. But Rucker was ready for him. He fired once, and Swenson's gun sagged, blasting lead into the ground at his feet. He stumbled backward, and when his knees buckled, he fell. The wind caught his hat and sent it cartwheeling away. The rest of the outlaws watched in silence, some of them swallowing hard.

“I gave an order,” said Rucker. “If any of the rest of you have ideas that conflict with it, speak up.”

Without a word, the men began saddling their horses.

“There's Swenson's horse and saddle,” Bailey said.

“Saddle his horse and bring it along on a lead rope,” said Rucker.

“You want we should bury Swenson, so's the coyotes can't git at him?” Rinks asked.

“Leave him lay,” said Rucker. “Coyotes won't bother one of their own.”

They rode away, Rucker leading them deeper into the Sierra Madre. Eventually they found the remains of a campfire and the tracks of four horses.

“It's got to be them,” Bailey said. “They must have that pair of whores with 'em.”

“We never did figure out what happened to the Mex gal that escaped from the ship,” said Mannon.

“That makes no difference now,” Rucker replied. “We'll trail them as far as we can before dark.”

“You mean before the rain washes out their tracks,” said one of the outlaws.

There was no denying the truth of that, and the outlaws had been following the tracks less than an hour when the rain began.

“Damn the luck,” Rucker said. “We can't follow their tracks, but we know they're on their way south. We'll keep to the crest of these mountains until we pick up their trail again.”

H
idalgo and Ximinez, the Sandlin gang's contacts within the upper echelons of government in Mexico City, had traveled under cover of darkness to Toluca, where they reported to Sandlin.

“We have sent word to the
hombres
who sell their
pistolas,”
Ximinez said, “and they have accepted the gold.”

“Who are they?” Sandlin asked.

“You do not know them,” said Hidalgo.

“I've laid out ten thousand dollars to these scum,” Sandlin said. “Damn it, what are their names?”

“One should be careful, lest his tongue dig his grave,” said Ximinez. “These scum, as you refer to them, are dangerous men. They are Kalpana, Shawanna, Barbonsio, Ryashia, Picado, Zopilote, Quemada, Santos, Esteban, and Jaspeado.”

“The first five I've never heard of,” Sandlin said.

“Kalpana is Spanish,” said Hidalgo. “Shawanna, Barbonsio, and Ryashia are
Indios,
and Picado is
Americano.
The others are
Mejicanos
and half-breeds.”

“You sure they won't take our money and vamoose?”

Ximinez laughed. “In their own way, they are honorable enough. They have all served time in prison. Most were sentenced to be executed and were saved only by compassion of certain ... ah ... officials within the government. Hidalgo and me believed they might at some time prove useful. That time is come, and they will not forget. There is, Per'ap, one small difficulty. These two
hombres
to be ... ah ... executed, how do we know them?”

“I have received a carefully worded telegram from Durango,” Sandlin said. “Nobody's seen either of these men and lived to talk, except a whorehouse madam in Mazatlán. One is an American, the other a mix of Spanish and Indian, both with
buscadera
rigs.”
¹⁸

“Some help, Per'ap,” Hidalgo said. “Nothing more?”

“They may have two women with mem,” said Sandlin. “For some reason, they freed a pair of whores in Mazatlán. One from a whorehouse, the other from a ship that was bound for California. And for whatever it's worth, they have gotten their hands on some of our dragon pieces, using them to their advantage.”

“The dragon image is of no use in identifying them,” Ximinez said. “Our
hombres
use these pieces.”

“No more,” said Sandlin. “Not until this troublesome pair is dead. I've issued orders that none of our outfit is to use the dragon piece until further notice. Your
pistoleros
have only to watch for the dragon sign. Nobody will be using it except the hombres who are to be gunned down.”

“Ah,” Hidalgo said, “it is the touch of genius one does not often find in
Americanos.”

“Americanos
have thin hides,” said Sandlin. “Don't push your luck.”

“There's a village down yonder, and a ship's dock,” said Wes. “It's the first dock we've seen in two days. We could be gettin' close to that trail that crosses these mountains to Mexico City.”

“I think so,” Tamara replied. “I pray that it has seen enough use that we do not cross in unknowingly.”

Wes grinned, appreciating Tamara's perfect English. He thought El Lobo was a little intimidated because of his own limitations.

“Down there, across that clearing,” said Renita after they had ridden a short distance. “That looks like a road, or at least a trail.”

“It looks mighty like a road;' Wes said, ”and it's plain enough. If it continues across these mountains, maybe it's what we've been looking for.”

“If it's the road we seek, perhaps there will be someone we can ask,” Tamara said.

The “road” proved to be only a pair of well-defined ruts, but it apparently did cross the mountains through a narrow pass. Almost immediately there was the distant rattle of a wagon on its way up the mountain road.

“Not likely it's part of the Sandlin gang in a wagon,” said Wes. “Maybe it's somebody hauling freight. Let's find out.”

El Lobo had his hands near the butts of his Colts when the wagon, drawn by a team of mules, emerged from a stand of trees. The wagon was piled high with what appeared to be freight, and its two occupants were Mexicans in wide-brimmed sombreros. One held the reins while his companion held a shotgun, and it was he who first saw the riders.

“Por
Dios,
bandidos!”
he shouted.

“En paz,”
said Wes, raising his hand with the peace sign, two fingers up.

Tamara spoke to them rapidly in Spanish, and the shotgun was laid aside. Trotting her horse closer to the wagon, Tamara continued to speak. At ease now, the Mexicans seemed to be answering her questions. When she was finished, they stood and removed their
sombreros.
Tamara back-stepped her horse, raised her hand in farewell, and the Mexican clucked to his team. The wagon rattled on its way, and Tamara joined her companions.

“Excelente,”
El Lobo said approvingly.

“That was smooth,” said Wes.

Tamara laughed. “I told them you and Palo are El Diablo Pistolas and that we ride to Mexico City. This is the road, and they bid us
vaya con Dios.”

“You took a terrible chance,” Renita said. “They might tell of having seen us.”

“They will not tell in any way that harms us,” said Tamara. “They say the Mexican people are praying for us, and urge us to ride carefully. This is the way to Mexico City, but when I spoke of it, they said the dragon waits in Toluca.”

“Then we may be barkin' up the wrong tree, ridin' to Mexico City,” Wes said.

“I do not think so,” said Tamara, -“or they would have told us. Perhaps Toluca is a nearby village.”

“When I ride with the outlaws at Chihuahua, I hear the name Toluca,” El Lobo said.

“Then we'll ride on to Mexico City,” said Wes. “Just because the Mexican government is headquartered in Mexico City there's no reason the Sandlin bunch can't be holed up in another place. In fact, that makes perfect sense. The last thing the outlaws would want is to have their link to the Mexican government revealed.”

“I think the people know of it,” Tamara said, “but they are afraid. They do not know how to oppose it, and that is why they wish us well.”

“Then if we can expose the whole rotten mess,” said Wes, “we can accomplish even more than we set out to do. We can smash the Sandlin gang, and in so doing, give these people back their country.”

“Si,”
El Lobo said.
“Mejicanos
make monument to us.”

“Shame,” said Tamara. “That is selfish.”

“Damn right,” Wes said, going along with her humor. “I'll settle for just gettin' out of Mexico alive.”

When Brodie Fentress reported to Dolan Watts and Black Bill Trevino, he told them only that Rucker and his men had picked up the trail of four riders, two of which were believed to be the men bent on the destruction of the Sandlin gang. He chose not to reveal that Rucker—his lieutenant—had foolishly failed to have the horses watched and that as a result he and all his men had been afoot for two days.

“So they are headed south,” Black Bill Trevino said. “How do you account for the two extra horses?”

“I'd say the two extra mounts account for the pair of whores they stole in Mazatlán,” said Fentress.

“Since you're the
hombre
with the answers,” Watts said, “why is this pair of hell-fire and brimstone pistol-toters got a couple of whores ridin' with 'em?”

“Why not?” said Fentress. “It's just possible these females are sisters—or even wives—of the
hombres
that's been givin' us hell. There's some reason they've got it in for us. Selling women for whores is a lowdown, stinking business, and I've never favored it.”

Watts laughed. “Well, if you've done gone and got religion, you can leave anytime. I don't see any leg irons on you.”

‘“That's enough,” Black Bill Trevino said. “We got trouble enough without any fights among ourselves. Now that we know the men we're after are ridin' south—probably to Mexico City—what are we gonna do about the near six hundred men scattered all the way from Mazatlán to Tampico?”