Slocum and the bandit du.., p.7
Slocum and the Bandit Durango, page 7
He walked over to Tomas and spoke above the storm’s roar. “Tell the boy to take the horses to higher ground.”
“Where? Up on the mountain?” Tomas looked at him in the dim light like he was crazy. “He couldn’t get those horses in this weather to go anywhere. We might swim them across the river if we hurry. It is coming up fast.”
“Juan, go see how much it has come up.” Durango took charge. “Tomas, you and the others get the horses ready. We must get across the river and on higher ground.” Pale-faced, José went with the others. It was something Durango would never have thought he’d do—abandon his cantina.
More lightning and thunder followed during the torrential downpour. In the room, he tried to wake Marisel. She was passed out. He took her limp form wrapped in a blanket and joined the last of his men as they pushed to the corrals. Water ran down his face and filled his boots. A burst of lightning blinded him for seconds as he bore his small load.
She moaned, as if inconvenienced by the whole thing.
“Shut up, you bitch. We must leave here now. I know you are wet and cold, but the damn rain won’t stop.”
When he was at last mounted on Eagle with her in his arms, he headed for the river. As he booted the hesitant horse into the water, he could hear the others trying to ride some horses and drive the rest.
“If we lose our seat, cling to me,” he said to Marisel.
Her reply was to cling to his neck harder. Eagle soon was swimming, and the notion sent a bolt of fear up Durango’s spine. He knew full well the only reason the big horse was swimming was because his feet no longer touched bottom, and despite his powerful dog-paddling, they were fast being swept downstream.
The damn heavy silver saddle—he should never have taken it. They rode waves like those in the ocean with her in his arms. Rain blinded him. Eagle soon breasted the current to try to get upstream and by the lightning strikes that exposed some landmarks, he discovered they were headed for the yawning canyon and the big rapids.
He tried to rein the horse toward the shore, but since he was holding Marisel as well, it was not easy. Eagle did a complete turnaround in the river despite his efforts, and that upset Durango more. Without spurs to control Eagle, he was worried that the headstrong horse might carry them to their deaths.
“We’re going to die,” she cried.
“No, we aren’t. Stop saying that.”
What could he do? How could he ever—Then the stallion began to reach shallower water, and Durango felt its hooves strike gravel.
“We’re going to be safe,” he shouted over the thunder.
She scrambled up and hugged his neck. “Oh, oh, we are going to live.”
Eagle stumbled once, then recovered, and Durango resumed breathing again.
They stopped at the first jacal and made themselves at home, horse and all. The roof leaked, but half of the room was dry and they were out of the driving rain. There was more thunder.
How many men and horses did he lose in this flood? Only time would tell—if this damn rain would only quit. He stood in the doorway soaked to the bone and watched the unceasing storm continue. This valley would wash away.
Marisel hugged his waist like she was attached to him. He wondered about Señora Valdez. Was she all right? A shiver of cold ran up his spine—what a damn mess.
8
The knock on his door made Slocum bolt up in bed. Hand on his pistol, he cocked the hammer back and swung his legs off the bed. “Yes?”
“Señor. It is me, Enrique. Señor Buck and Dyke sent me to find you. They are having trouble with some bad hombres.”
“Bad hombres?” He was fighting on his pants.
“Sí, they said for you to come fast.”
“Where are they?”
“In a cantina called the Black Stallion.”
Bent over, he pulled on his first boot, trying to remember the saloon and figure out why they’d need him. “You better go back and watch our things. This may be a trick.”
“Two men I trust are doing that. One is a cousin.”
“Good thinking.” He used the mule ears to pull on his other boot.
Doña was already wiggling into her skirt in the room’s darkness. “Who would give them trouble?”
He shrugged and buttoned his shirt. “They could be drunk.”
She nodded in the darkness, pulled the blouse over her head and settled it in place, then went for their hats as she opened the door for some light. When his gun belt was buckled and his hat was on, he nodded to Enrique, who was standing in the light from the doorway. The youth looked very apprehensive.
“What’s happening, pal?” Slocum locked the door after Doña came out, and they headed for the stairs.
“Buck and Dyke have been winning at cards. These men won’t let them leave until they win their money back.”
“How many are there?”
“Four.”
“I ought to even it out then?”
Enrique smiled. “Señor Dyke sent word to me by a Mexican boy they needed you muy pronto.”
Slocum’s boot heels hit the boardwalk hard as he turned to speak to Doña. “You keep your head down and out of the way.”
“Sí. You do the same.”
“I will. Let me go in first, then you two can slip in unless it looks like gunplay.”
They agreed, and he pushed through the black batwing doors. His hat was tilted back on his head as a sign to Buck. He never wore it like that. He nodded to the red-faced bar-keep behind the bar.
The poker game was down to five players, including Dyke and Buck. Two hard cases standing at the bar seemed to Slocum to be somehow involved—maybe as backup. He went down to where they had their elbows on the bar and watched the players.
“Good game going on?” he asked, making a sign to the bartender that he wanted a beer.
“Going good enough,” the lanky one said beside him.
Slocum slapped a dime down for his beer and took a sip. Then he set the mug down on the bar. “You two might ought to go out the back way.”
The lanky one frowned at him. A hard look crossed his face like he was close to exploding.
“Yeah, the town marshal stopped me down the block asking about two fellas—” He looked them over. “Yeah, fits your descriptions. He’s working the places coming this way. Be here pretty soon.”
“Obliged, mister,” the lanky one said, and they cut out for the back hall.
“Where in hell’re they going?” the fancy-dressed man seated at the card table asked.
He turned in his chair, and Slocum recognized him from earlier—the dandy husband from the surrey.
“I just asked if they were wanted by the law,” Slocum said, and showed him his palms.
“Who in the hell are you?”
“Everyone hold tight.” Slocum held his open hands out, ready to use them for whatever was needed. “The odds have just changed in here. Professor, you had enough poker?”
“I sure have.” Dyke began to stand up.
“I told you that you ain’t leaving till I get my fair chances to win that back.” The fancy man started to rise and indicated the pile of money before Dyke.
“Mister—coming and going in a poker game is a man’s private business,” Slocum said.
“You better mind your own gawddamn business.”
“I am. He’s with me. And you can’t draw that damn derringer up your sleeve before I can plant you in the ground.”
The man sat down in his chair. “I never caught your name.”
“Slocum’s mine. Yours?”
“Martin Hanson—Texas.”
“Nice to meet you. Buck, you two ready to leave?”
“Yeah. I was wondering what took you so long,” Buck said, scooping up money and stuffing it inside his shirt.
“Hell, I figured only five of them, you could handle it.”
“It was them two at the bar I worried about.”
“They were wanted elsewhere,” Slocum said. The other two men in the game looked a little pale under the skin. Slocum felt Hanson was the main threat along with the hard cases at the bar.
“What’s your business?” Hanson asked.
“Ain’t got one right now.”
“Hmm, much money as them two took from us, you won’t have to work.”
Slocum saw Enrique and Doña standing by the door. His palms felt wet—those two hard cases might double back when they saw no sign of the marshal. He kept an eye on Hanson, who never moved or turned. Slocum nodded good night to the tense-faced bartender and exited through the batwing doors, which squeaked when they swung shut.
Out in the night, he hustled the others down the boardwalk and dried his palms on his pants. “Those two might still be around if they figure I ran a bluff on them.”
“Yeah, I could have handled Hanson and them other two, but the two you sent on bothered me,” Buck said.
“Them sons a bitches at the start went to nicking cards with their fingernails. So me and Buck went to nicking them, too, until they were so confused and we went to winning.” Dyke laughed aloud. “Served them right.”
They came in sight of the livery and Slocum eased some. “Doña and I are going back for a little sleep. We’re still pulling out at sunrise.”
“Thanks. Good night. See you then,” came from the three men as Slocum and Doña headed for the hotel.
“What are you thinking?” Doña asked.
“Today I saw that man in the card game with a woman I knew in the past. I’m just wondering why she’s with that tinhorn.”
“Women can make some poor choices, too,” she said.
“Oh, yes?”
“I risked my life because I was so worried about my virginity being taken from me.” She shook her head and looked at the stars for help. “One night I overheard the men I was going to El Paso with all say they planned to rape me. So I left them and walked miles on foot. To save my virtue, no?”
“I savvy that.”
“Well, I get to El Paso and meet Antonio. He says he wants to marry me. He is so handsome—I never had a boyfriend before and he is so sweet. We make love—he wants to marry me. I am so excited. We make love. We do it all night and all day. Oh, I think I am so lucky to find him, huh?”
“Sounds like a fairy tale.”
“It was. He gets me a little drunk, then he says he needs a favor. His boss where he works has a problem. And if I help him, he will get a raise and become the foreman. I am afraid but being drunk, I am finally convinced—for him—for him I will do this.”
Slocum stopped on the hotel porch and hugged her. “So?”
“This man came in the room and he is big. I am afraid if I don’t do this, Antonio will be fired. He unbuttons his pants sitting beside me in the bed and puts my hand on it. I don’t know what to do. He shows me how, then he forces my head down there to suck on it.”
“Tough lesson.”
“Sí. He makes me drink more and then he climbs on me. He was rough. Even drunk, it was not fun.”
“Sounds bad.”
“That was just the start. There were four more came after him that night. That son of bitch Antonio was a pimp. Later that night, he told me he’d kill me if I ran away.”
“What did you do?”
“I ran away to Mesilla. Better to be dead than his slave. I worked there as a cook and then I became a maid for a rich family, but her husband trapped me in the pantry and he stuck his finger up in me, promising me lots of money.”
“I knew I must quit that job, and I met a man who said he’d take me home to the Madres. I wanted to go home so bad. But instead of taking me home, he took me to that jacal and he worked the cattle. I soon decided he wasn’t taking me back, and then you came by.”
He opened the door for her and let her go into the lobby. “We only have a short time to sleep. It’s two-thirty.”
She hugged his arm going up the stairs. “Then let’s use the bed while we have one instead of sleeping.”
He glanced over at her as he unlocked the door. “Sounds wonderful.”
It was predawn and the jackasses were braying in protest about being saddled for the trip. Their noisy honking filled the darkness, which was cut only by the brass candle lamp Doña held up for them to see by. Four of them were working on loading one stubborn mule. They had his upper lip twisted in the chain twitch to force him to stand still and not kick. They made short work of the process.
“Is Slocum here?” a woman’s voice asked.
He looked around, and Doña indicated he should come over. Slocum excused himself and went toward the lamp.
“This woman asked for you.”
“Cindy?”
“Yes. He said you were here.” Cindy smiled. “Said you robbed him.”
“He lied.” She looked nice, nice as she looked in Prescott that day when he put her on the stage for Texas. They stepped aside to talk more.
“Your husband?”
“Worse than that. He’s my brother. We act like we’re married to save an extra hotel room. He’s into something with two hard cases. He won’t tell me.”
“They’re outlaws.”
She agreed.
“You need some money to get away from him?”
She hesitated and then nodded.
“How much?”
Her hand shot out to stop him. He waved it off and went to the others.
“Dyke, loan me forty dollars.”
He stopped and scratched his sideburns. “Need more?”
“Nope.”
With a big grin, Dyke dug in his britches and came up with a handful of money. “Here’s fifty.”
“Good.” Slocum took it and went back to Cindy.
“You didn’t need to do that.” She shook her head. “Sorry I had to ask you for it. Come by the family ranch at San Angelo. I’ll pay you back.”
He hugged and kissed her. She looked ready to cry. “I owe you again.”
“Naw. Go on. I’ve got to help the others.”
Doña winked at him as he turned away. He tossed the canvas sheet over the mule and thought about Cindy’s mole as Dyke and Buck tied the cover down in a diamond hitch. Some small details about a woman sure stuck in a man’s mind.
Enrique went into the pen for the next mule. They were over halfway through the job. And Slocum felt anxious to get going west. They should be at Tres Palmas by late evening. And then came the bad desert that separated them from the Madres.
When the mules were loaded and the lamp put in the case and packed on the kitchen mule, they left the livery and went down Main Street, with the bell mare trailing Slocum’s dun and the honkers behind her.
“So you are one who lends women money?” Doña asked in a low voice from beside him on her short horse.
“You need some?”
“No. But you told me about her and I wondered if you’d asked her along.”
“She wanted to go home to Texas, not cross this godforsaken country with us to go fight some bandits.”
“I bet if you’d asked her, she would have gone along.”
He shook his head. Then he looked back in the soft light. Dyke, Enrique, and Buck had the mules in line. They acted much less shocked by the whistles and air brakes hissing from the tracks across the stream that morning. But Slocum had no regrets leaving Deming when they were out in the broad high plains and riding southwest.
Ahead of them, the Gambel’s quail scurried off in the low scrubs and bunchgrass. Their whit-woo calls matched the doves that scratched in the dusty wagon tracks for bits of grain that had been passed through horses and dumped on the roadway.
The snap of a dove’s wing taking flight made an unforgettable sound. There were plenty in this country. Slocum’s dun set into a running walk. He intended to make the forty-some miles to Tres Palmas before sundown.
Cindy should be on a train for Texas by now. What was Durango up to? That was the bigger question.
9
Durango watched whole cottonwood trees being swept downstream past him and Marisel. If one of the trees had hit them and the horse, they’d have been swept under and drowned. The damn rain never stopped. Never let up. Lightning still blazed across the sky and thunder rumbled like a wagonload of potatoes.
This bitch of a storm had to stop sometime. But when? He wanted to raise his fist and threaten it, but that would do little good. He realized then that Marisel clung to his waist like she still had the same fear they’d shared crossing the swollen river.
“It is all right now,” he said.
“I’m still shaking inside.”
“You’ll be fine. We are safe. We must get on my horse and see about the others.”
Woodenly, she agreed with a nod.
He mounted his horse and jerked her up by the arm to sit behind him. Then he nudged Eagle toward the north hoping the others had gotten out upstream. He and Marisel had to cross a roaring side creek, and she screamed and clutched him when they entered the waist-deep water. On the high ground again, they began to find wet horses and sodden men in the continuing rain. The men struggled in the slick mud while leading their charges. There was no sign of Tomas. Durango kept moving north up the valley, crossing more engorged side streams that were bursting into the river.
At last he was past the spot across the river from the cantina. He could not see the cantina for the downpour, but recognized the nearby treetops that were half-swallowed by the raging flood. Satisfied that Tomas was not in that area, he headed up the road for a place to dry out.
He didn’t want to stop at Señora Valdez’s with Marisel behind him. The señora might not understand his hunger and need for women. With a smile on his lips under the sodden sombrero, he thought about having Señora Valdez. That would be a great victory for him—like a huge trophy deer head he could put on his wall.
He rode up to a jacal he knew was past the señora’s place. A thickset woman came to the door and peered out, looking suspiciously at them.
“I am sorry, Señora, but we are wet and wish to share your casa.”
“Come in, come in,” she said as more thunder rolled over them.
