The Border Empire (32 page)

“A grand piece of work, José,” said Wes. “I've never seen anything like it.”

José beckoned to them, and they followed him up wooden steps and into a tack room with a wooden floor. There was a crude table, with a bench on each side. On the table was a large wooden bowl of roasted meat. In a brown jug was a potent brew that proved to be mescal. José pointed to the jug. Wes took a swallow and passed it to El Lobo. Nodding to them, José sat down on one of the benches and attacked the meat. Wes and El Lobo sat on the other bench and, having had no food since early morning, sampled the meat.

“Madre de Dios,”
El Lobo said, “what this be?”

“Roast goat,” said Wes. “I've had it a time or two, and it's always tough. Somethin' like cuttin' a hunk out of your saddle and chewin' on it.”

José just grinned and reached for another piece of goat.

 

“If the place Juan's taking us is near the stable where Wes and Palo will be,” Renita said, “why didn't all of us go together?”

“I do not know,” said Tamara. “Juan has his reasons.”

When Juan returned, Tamara and Renita mounted their horses and followed him. He again avoided lit areas, coming in behind the boardinghouse. There appeared to be no more than a dozen rooms, all of them on one level. The kitchen still smelled of freshly baked bread, and the Mexican woman who greeted them had more than a little gray in her hair.

“Anna Marie,” Juan said, by way of introduction.

“He do not talk much,” said Anna Marie, who proved to be a little more comfortable with English.

Without another word, Juan left the kitchen, closing the door behind him.

“Where's he going?” Renita asked.

“He take your horses to the stable,” said Anna Marie. “Come, there is food.”

“Wes and Palo must be hungry, too,” Renita said.

“They eat,” said Anna Marie. “There plenty roast goat.”

Their host sat them down to a table on which there was fresh bread, milk, and, apparently, more roast goat.

“Anna Marie,” Tamara said, “how much has Juan told you about us and what we are attempting to do?”

“Enough,” said Anna Marie. “Shekeela was my sister.”

It was an awkward moment. Tamara and Renita reached for some roast goat and said no more.

Wes and El Lobo were about to climb up to the loft when the barn doors creaked open. Both men relaxed, for it was Juan, bringing Tamara's and Renita's horses. José took the reins, and without a word Juan departed, closing the barn doors behind him. Wes and El Lobo found the loft well supplied with hay, and there were cracks through which they could see the Sandlin house.

“Nobody find us now,” El Lobo said.

“At this point,” said Wes, “I think the military probably wants us more than Sandlin's bunch. I don't know that any of the Sandlin gang ever got a good look at any of us, but we can't say that for the military. We must avoid them.”

 

It was still dark outside when Wes and El Lobo were awakened by a thumping, like a horse was kicking its way out of a stall. Instead, they found José looking up at them from a circle of lantern light. He motioned them down and led them out the barn doors farthest from the Sandlin house. The moon had long since set, and dawn wasn't too far distant. It soon became evident what José had in mind. Approaching a house that was totally dark, José knocked three times on the back door. When it was opened, the three of them entered and the door was closed. They were led to a room in which a single lamp burned. Each of the several windows were covered with blankets. Tamara, Renita, and a Mexican woman began bringing in food. Wes and El Lobo noticed, with some relief, there appeared to be no roast goat.

“Wes, Palo,” said Tamara, “this is Anna Marie.”

“Eat,” Anna Marie said. “You must go while the darkness hides you.”

“Wes,” said Renita when Anna Marie returned to the kitchen, “Shekeela was Anna Marie's sister.”

“I hate it for her sake,” Wes said, “but we have her—along with Juan and others of his kin—to thank for us being alive. When I first came to Mexico to destroy the Sandlin gang, I was mad as hell, and I thought my hate for them would be enough. El Lobo and me rode around gunning down outlaws, but there was always more. Stomp on a rattler's tail all day, and he'll just go right on bitin' you. You have to go for the head, and for the first time, that's what we're about to do.”

“Yes,” said Tamara. “When Sandlin's Border Empire crumbles from the top, it will not matter how many outlaw camps remain or how many within the Mexican government have sold out.”

Conversation ceased. Wes and El Lobo had to return to the stable's hayloft while the darkness concealed them. The meal was soon finished, and the trio returned to the safety of the stable.

“One thing we forget,” El Lobo said. “We not know who leave the Sandlin house in the dark.”

“I haven't forgotten,” said Wes. “While it's possible Sandlin could be removing things at night, it's something we can't help. If we're figurin' it right, the military can't come up with any single crime they can charge to Sandlin. You can't arrest an
hombre
for having his goods hauled somewhere else. Even to a ship in Tampico harbor.”

“So there be no reason to work in the darkness.”

“None that I can think of,” Wes said. “That's why the Mexican people are with us. They know—as we do—what Sandlin's Border Empire has done to them, but there is no legal way to destroy it. If we can't do it, Sandlin will be here forever.”

“Why it not be legal to shoot
bastardos
who are so in need of it?”

“That's kind of how it is in the American West,” said Wes, “and I hope I'm not there to see it change.”

Suddenly there was a growling below, and José appeared at the head of the ladder.

“That's Empty,” Wes said. “He followed us here.”

Wes beckoned José away from the ladder and climbed down. José cautiously followed. Wes ruffled Empty's ears, and the hound only looked at José with interest. Struck by inspiration, José went into the tack room and returned with two large hunks of roast goat. One of these he offered to Empty, and after sniffing it suspiciously, he wolfed it down. José offered him the second piece, and it quickly followed the first. José raised his empty hands. There was no more roast goat.

“Empty,” said Wes, “this is José. He is a friend, an
amigo.”

Empty stalked around José, sniffing him, and the Mexican had the good sense to at least seem unafraid. Finally there was that friendly rumble that wasn't quite a growl, and the hound lay down in a comer on some hay. Reassured, José grinned, and Wes climbed the ladder back to the loft.

“The Mexican brass is claiming victory over the infamous Sandlin outlaws,” Jarvis told Sandlin. “There hasn't been a fight for two days now.”

“Splendid,” said Sandlin. “We want it to appear that we're beaten. When all the dust has settled, there'll be only you, Canton, Tafolla, Zouka, Sumar, Klady, Wittrus, Moke, and Undilay. There'll be no more meetings until I give the word. Only you are to come here, and you will come and go only under cover of darkness.”

“Sounds like a smart move to me,” Jarvis said, “but what will I tell the others?”

“No more than what I've told you,” said Sandlin. “If you encounter any of the rest of the outfit—
segundos
included—tell them we're finished in Mexico. If they continue to clash with the military, they do so at their own peril.”

“For them of us that's to stick,” Jarvis said, “how long before we reorganize?”

“That I can't tell you,” said Sandlin. “We've had too much negative publicity, and that fight in the courtyard was the last straw. We may be three months away from resuming any activity.”

“Some of the boys won't like that,” Jarvis said. “That damn manhunt cut us all down to the bone.”

“That's not my problem,” said Sandlin coldly. “Those who can't survive a dry spell are welcome to move on.”

“I reckon that includes me,” Jarvis said.

“Yes,” said Sandlin, “that includes you. There is no room for sentiment within this organization.”

Jarvis said nothing, but after he left the house, he paused in the darkness, thinking. What he hadn't told Sandlin was that the men Sandlin had named were already restless, and their trust in Sandlin had dwindled to a spark. There was speculation that Sandlin was preparing to run for it, and what Sandlin had just said would only add more fuel to the fires of discontent. It was late, but Jarvis decided to call a meeting of the disciples, and as he alerted them one by one, he got no argument.

“That's Sandlin's words,” Jarvis told them, in the dimly lit back room of a cantina.

“I don't like the sound of it,” said Canton. “Hell, I only took enough money to put a roof over my head and to keep me in booze and grub. Sandlin owes me. By God, I ain't settin' on my hunkers for no three months waitin' for some cash to dribble down.”

“Me neither,” Tafolla said.

“I reckon we'd better take a vote,” said Jarvis. “Them that can't abide this order of Sandlin's, stand up.”

There was a scraping of chairs, as all eight men got to their feet. Jarvis kicked back his chair and stood with them.

“Speak up,” Jarvis said.

“I think Sandlin's getting ready to vamoose,” said Canton, “leavin' us high and dry.”

“Them's my sentiments exactly,” Tafolla said.

Zouka, Sumar, Klady, Wittrus, Moke, and Undilay agreed unanimously.

“Now that we're all of the same mind,” said Canton, “what are we goin' to do?”

“We can take turns watching the Sandlin mansion,” Jarvis said. “I've heard Sandlin's got access to a fast clipper ship, that it's anchored in Tampico bay. We need to know if there's any truth to that, and if there is, we'll know the direction Sandlin aims to run.”

“If there is such a ship, Sandlin won't never get on it,” said Undilay. “I'll be standin' there with a cocked Colt, waitin' to shoot the double-crossin' bastard.”

“By God, you'll have to get in line,” Klady said.

“Watching the house won't be easy,” said Jarvis, “with it standing alone. The closest other building is that stable, owned by an old Mex.”

“Forget him,” Handley said. “The old varmint won't even let us stable our horses in there.”

“This will be for nothin' if Sandlin pulls out at night,” said Wittrus.

“I don't consider that likely,” Canton said. “Sandlin's always had a thing about gold, and it'll take a wagon to move it any distance. I don't remember there bein' any decent road from here to Tampico. Can anybody say I'm wrong?”

“It don't make sense, havin' this ship at Tampico,” said Sumar. “Hell, there's a pretty good wagon road south, all the way to the Pacific, and it ain't near as far as Tampico.”

“No,” Jarvis conceded, “but there's no major Pacific port any closer than Mazatlán. In Tampico, what's one more clipper ship? It's a busy port, and it would be well worth the greater distance, not having this ship attract any unwanted attention. If there is such a ship, it'll be in Tampico bay.”

“I reckon we can agree on that,” said Zouka. “Now, how can we watch Sandlin's place without bein' seen and identified?”

“There can't be more than one man,” Jarvis said. “If we can't use the stable, I can't think of but one other place close enough, and that's a cantina.”

“Yeah,” said Moke, “and there ain't a window in the place.”

“Damn it,” Jarvis said, “you won't be inside. Dress yourself like a poor Mex, tilt a
sombrero
over your face, and hunker outside like you're soakin up sun.”

“In that case,” said Canton, “you can't have a horse. What poor Mex could afford a horse? That calls for a mule, without a saddle.”

“No, by God,” Wittrus said. “It ain't civilized, a white man ridin' a mule, with or without a saddle.”

“Civilized or not, it makes sense,” said Jarvis. “All of us will have to wear the same kind of
peon
clothes, wear the same
sombrero,
and ride the same mule. It has to look like the same lazy Mex is there, day after day.”

“Suppose I'm on watch,” Handley said, “and I see Sandlin loadin' a wagon? Damn it, I ain't about to ride all the way to Tampico on a mule, with or without a saddle.”

“If you see Sandlin doin' anything suspicious—like loadin' a wagon—then follow just long enough to be sure of the direction,” said Jarvis. “There'll always be another of us just waitin' to side you. The two of you can then mount your horses and follow.”

“I'll take the watch tomorrow, then,” Canton said. “Who's got a mule I can borrow?”

Nobody had a mule, and some of the men laughed.

“See me at dawn,” said Jarvis. “I'll find a mule.”

From their position in the stable's loft, Wes and El Lobo could see the front and both sides of the Sandlin mansion. While they couldn't see the front of the house, they could see the entrance to a distant cantina, and it was there that they first noticed some activity. What appeared to be a poor Mexican reined up his mule, dismounted, sat down with his back to the adobe wall, and tilted his
sombrero
over his eyes.