“O’Brien, get off that hoss, and that goes for you two as well.” Silas Creeds motioned with his glass at Tweedy and Lowth.
Shawn swung out of the saddle and stood holding the reins of his mount. “Looks like the ball is about to open, Creeds.”
“Soon. But not yet. The boss wants to look over the ship.”
“He may not have time,” Shawn pointed out.
“He’s got the Arab in gun range. Zeb knows it and the Arab knows it. The ball will open when Zeb Moss decides to open it and it ain’t yet.” Creeds waved toward the table. “Go get yourself some grub, but stay clear of the rum.”
Shawn looked around him. “I count thirty seamen, and most of them are already armed. You plan to take them on with six men?”
“Nine, including you and them two with you, and ten, counting Mr. Moss. The boss should count for two or three, just like me and maybe the Topock Kid, if he’s well enough.”
“It’s getting a little too tense for comfort around here, Creeds,” Shawn said. “When will the shooting start?”
Creeds gave his yellow smile. “When I put a bullet in you, O’Brien, you’ll know when it ends. Until then, be ready.”
After Creeds strolled away, Shawn and the others stepped to the table. Shawn was hungry. He wrapped some salt beef in a flatbread and discovered it made a tasty sandwich. He stayed away from the rum, though Tweedy helped himself to a glass.
“Know what I feel like, Mr. Lowth?” Tweedy said, after sampling the rum.
“Do tell, Mr. Tweedy.” Like Shawn, Lowth was munching on a sandwich.
“It’s like when I’m stupid enough to get myself downwind of ol’ Ephraim an’ he’s as mad as hell and comes after me. I know I’ve got a fight on my hands and the only question is . . . when? And the answer is that Ephraim’s smart an’ won’t brace me until he figgers he’s got an edge. But as to when that will come about, only he knows.” Tweedy looked at Shawn. “You take my meanin’?”
Shawn looked to where Moss and the Arab were walking toward the sailing ship, unhurried, talking like two old friends out for a morning stroll.
“You mean hard times are coming down sometime soon, Uriah.” Shawn smiled. “I hope you’re loaded for bear.”
Tweedy made a face. “Lousy rum. Damn furriners.”
Shawn studied the terrain around the camp. There was no cover, no place to hide for miles, only desert brush on flat ground that stretched to the Sierra Madres. What he had in mind was impossible.
Tweedy winked. “Been thinking that my ownself, sonny. They’d ride us down afore we covered a quarter mile. Or they’d just stay right where they’re at an’ shoot us down.”
Shawn nodded. “I know. And we’d have women along with us.”
“It seems to me, Mr. O’Brien,” Lowth put in, “that all we can do is wait and then react to whatever situation manifests itself.”
“Fine words, Mr. Lowth,” Tweedy said. “I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about, but them was high-sounding words.”
“We wait and see, Uriah,” Shawn explained. “That’s what he means.”
Tweedy took a swig of rum. “Hell, boy, that’s all we can do.” He laid the glass at his feet and levered a round into the Winchester’s chamber. “But right now I’m gonna go talk with my intended.”
“Uriah, those Arab sailors don’t look like they’d exactly welcome your visit,” Shawn pointed out.
“That’s their problem, not mine.”
“Wait, Mr. Tweedy, I’ll come with you,” Lowth said. “There’s strength in numbers.”
“You’re a mannerly, well-spoken gent, Mr. Lowth, so you’re welcome to talk with my future bride,” Tweedy offered. Then to Shawn he said, “Just in case things go bad, cover us, young feller.”
Four pairs of black, hostile eyes watched Tweedy and Lowth as they walked closer to the women. One of the guards, a big, brawny fellow with a ragged black beard down to his navel, stepped in their way. He managed a slight, artificial smile. “Rum,” he said, motioning with his Lebel rifle toward the table. “You go, infidel. Drink.”
Tweedy stopped, the Winchester in the crook of his left arm, and moved the forefinger of his right hand back and forth. “No drinkee.” He pointed at Julia. “Me talkee.”
The Arab hesitated. His lord was still on the schooner with the American and he’d been ordered to pretend a warm welcome to the infidel dogs. After a few moments, he bowed slightly and stepped aside.
“See, Mr. Lowth, all you have to do is talk to them in their own lingo and they’ll do anything for you.” Tweedy smiled at the stone-faced Arab. “Thankee . . .”
The women crowded around Tweedy and Lowth, all of them asking questions at the same time. Tweedy held up a silencing hand. “Ladies, I’m only here to see Miss Trixie Lee, my intended.”
One of the young Mexican girls asked, “Can you help us, señor? Can you take us away from this terrible place?”
Tweedy pretended a confidence he didn’t feel. “Never fear, ladies, we’ll get you out of here and back to Santa Fe.” He grinned. “Never fear. Tweedy is here.”
The girl took Tweedy’s hand and kissed it, her tears falling on his tough skin. “Thank you, señor. Oh, thank you.”
Tweedy, knowing he’d lied to the girl, who was little more than a child, felt like a Benedict Arnold and he was forced to swallow the lump in his throat.
“How are you holding up, Miss Lee?” Lowth asked Julia. “I hope you are not too distressed.”
Julia looked at the man, her face empty. She said nothing.
Tweedy, discouraged by his lie to the Mexican girls, said in an apologetic tone, “We’re goin’ to save you, Trixie. But it won’t be easy or soon. You understand?”
“Save yourself, Uriah,” Julia said. “It’s too late for me, too late for all of us.”
“Never you mind. We’ll come up with somethin’, Trixie. Damn right we will, on account of how when this is over me an’ you is gettin’ hitched right away.”
Julia managed a smile, but it was distant and fleeting. “Don’t get your hopes up, Uriah.” She put her hand on his buckskinned arm. “You are all in terrible danger. Tell Shawn O’Brien I said that.”
“I reckon he already knows, Trixie,” Tweedy said. “Zeb Moss wants to take the slave ship. Men will die, most of them real quick.”
“Then leave us. Get on your horses and ride and don’t stop until you reach Texas.”
Tweedy shook his head. “We’re not leaving you, little schoolteacher gal.”
“Then you’ll all die soon. It’s building, Uriah. Either Moss or the sheik will make his move before dark.”
Lowth had been listening intently, but made his way to the redhead with the baby in her arms. He smiled. “How is she?”
The woman looked haunted. “The slaver says he’ll buy me but not my baby. That man Moss said that was all right and they’d just leave my little Annie on the beach and let the tide take her.”
She grabbed the front of Lowth’s coat. “Please don’t let them take my baby from me.”
“I won’t let that happen.” Even as he said the words, Lowth knew they were as empty as a banker’s heart.
“Thank you.” Suddenly there was hope in the woman’s eyes. “You’ll save us, won’t you?”
“Yes. Yes I will,” Lowth said, hating himself. “You’ll see, dear lady, everything will be just fine.”
The woman so obviously and so eagerly believed him that Thaddeus Lowth felt himself die a little death.