Angel Moreno was worried. “Do you truly think you can trust those strangers, patron?”
“I do not see why not,” Raul replied. “They seem to abide by some Código de Duelo — Code of Dueling. Although I am only familiar with gunfights that are brief, violent affairs, I have heard a little of such behavior among gentlemen.”
“I do not trust caballeros,” Angel remarked. “Gentlemen are the most cruel of all men. They live by their own fine rules of what they consider fair play among themselves. The only trouble is they do not apply these high standards to the lower classes of people — or strangers.”
“I have no choice. If I refuse the duel, I would be held in such contempt that my ability to rescue the girl would be severely limited.”
“Pardon me for saying so, patron, but I think it was your hot blood that got you into this situation.”
“Perhaps so,” Raul conceded. “But I did my best to avoid it with my choice of weapons. I gave them an honorable out. All this fellow Arrozco had to do was insist that knives were not gentlemen’s weapons. I could have stuck to my insistence and that would have ended the incident.”
“It does not matter,” Angel pointed out. “What has happened is already too late to change. What if they tamper with the knives?”
“The bartender is taking care of them,” Raul said. “From the way those fellows were talking to him, I doubt if he is very fond of them.”
“Yes, but he must live here,” Angel said with his peon logic. “Long after you have gone, whether you are victorious or not, that man will have to reside in the same town as those rich men and their families.”
“So I got myself into a bad situation. There is no way to salvage it.”
“You had better concentrate on staying alive, patron. And unhurt. Those men are treacherous and we may have to flee for our lives if you kill their friend.”
“And leave the girl?” Raul asked.
“And leave the girl,” Angel echoed. “Perhaps it is her destiny to live a life as a plaything for many men.”
“I will not accept that,” Raul snapped.
“You might just have to, patron.”
“Well, it is too late to make any definite plans one way or the other,” Raul opined. “It will be light soon. We might as well go down and see what awaits us.”
“I have my pistol under my jacket,” Angel said. “And please, patron, do not speak to me of this violation of any Código de Duelo. I am a peon, and beneath such things.”
“Maybe it will turn out to be a good idea if your suspicions are correct. And speaking of jackets, get my traveling one to wrap around my arm. I will need it as a shield against a slashing blade.”
“It is ready to take with us,” Angel assured him.
“Then let us go.”
“May God protect you, Don Raulito!”
~*~
Although dawn was a little more than red streaks on the horizon, it was already uncomfortably warm for Raul and Angel. The rear of the hotel consisted of a wide area to accommodate coaches and carriages. It faced the backs of the shops on the next street.
A tiny, gray-haired man wearing a top hat and tails appeared with the bartender and Sergio Perez, the second for Rodolfo Arrozco. The older man approached them and bowed slightly. “Doctor Juan Ramirez at your service.”
“I am Raul Mackenzie-Mendoza. And this is my second Angel Moreno.”
“Come with me,” the doctor said to Angel. Together they walked to a central spot where Perez waited with the bartender. A few moments passed as both Angel and Perez examined the Bowie knives.
Angel returned to Raul. “Esta bien, patron. Everything is in order as far as I can determine.”
They walked to where the other three men waited as Rodolfo Arrozco appeared. The duelists came to a stop and gazed at each other.
Dr. Ramirez spoke beseechingly, asking, “Do either of you caballeros have any statements to make?”
“None,” Arrozco replied.
“Nor I,” Raul intoned.
“Do either of you caballeros desire to retract anything previously said or offer any apologies?”
“I have nothing to apologize for,” Arrozco said.
“The same for me,” Raul declared.
The doctor sighed. “You are both such young men with so much life ahead of you. Why risk your futures over some trivial incident?” He waited, but when the duelists remained silent, he finally relented. “Don Rodolfo Arrozco-Huerta you have challenged Don Raul Mackenzie-Mendoza to a duel. He has accepted and chosen Bowie knives as the weapons in this affair of honor.” He turned his sad gaze to Arrozco. “As challenger you may choose your weapon.”
The bartender held up a satin pillow on which the two knives rested. Arrozco studied them carefully then took one. Raul did the same, hefting the heavy cutting instrument in his hand to get the feel of it.
Perez took a jacket to Arrozco and began wrapping it around his left arm. The challenger looked at Raul with a grin of contempt. “I am not as ignorant of knife fighting as you may have thought. My fencing teacher was Italian and part of his course of instruction included many hours with the pugnale; that means dagger in his language.”
“How nice to have learned in such genteel circumstances,” Raul remarked as Angel wrapped his leather trail jacket around his arm. “My lessons were learned in the cantinas of Sonora. Oh! Pardon me! I forgot that you do not know what a Sonora is.”
“Step back, caballeros,” Dr. Ramirez said. He raised his arm. “When I signal you are to begin. May God protect you both!” He brought his hand down in a rapid slashing movement and the two adversaries began circling each other, already feinting and offered their wrapped arms as elusive targets to each other.
Arrozco moved well with much confidence, and it was obvious that whatever amount of training he had as a fencer, it was more than adequate. He was fast and unpredictable as he tested Raul’s defenses with skillful feints and full attacks that suddenly came to a stop as he withdrew out of harm’s way.
Raul, on the other hand, lacked the stylized method of his opponent. But he knew the Bowie knife well and kept Arrozco at bay with ease. He had yet to launch any serious attacks of his own.
A quarter of an hour passed with nothing much going on except a rush or two as each man waited for an opening. The sun was higher now and Raul’s lack of acclimation to the local climate began to tell.
The growing heat became oppressive to him as he perspired heavily. The trouble was that the sweat didn’t evaporate and cool him in the high humidity. Instead it seemed to sap his strength as it dripped down his face, stinging his eyes and blurring his vision.
Arrozco was barely panting. Born and raised in the Selva Vista area, he was in the coolest part of the day as far as he was concerned, and he felt just fine. He sensed his opponent’s growing fatigue and began getting bolder.
Raul soon found himself backing away, completely on the defensive. A moment of carelessness on his part would give Arrozco a chance to close in with a damaging or fatal thrust. Raul took a chance and pressed back, gaining a slight edge. But before he could take advantage of it, he was once again back-peddling as Arrozco steered him around the open area.
Now Raul noticed something peculiar about Arrozco’s attack. While skillful and dangerous, his opponent was lacking something, and it took Raul several long and dangerous minutes to figure it out. He remembered that Arrozco had said he was taught fencing along with the dagger. The word dagger triggered the answer Raul was looking for to improve his defense.
He had been reacting to Arrozco’s attacks as if he were using the Bowie knife properly. But now Raul knew this wasn’t the case. The young man was stabbing with the weapon; a method an Italian teacher of fencing might employ with a dagger. But the Bowie wasn’t a stabbing knife. It was designed for slashing, and Raul had been wasting his time in a defense from ineffective jabbing while expecting a saber-like attack.
He suddenly rallied and went over Arrozco’s next move. Then with a quick down sweep, Raul cut his opponent’s face from eyeball to jaw line It was only a superficial wound, certainly not damaging. Even the bleeding wasn’t all that bad. He prepared for another attack when Dr. Ramirez shouted aloud.
“Ya bastante — enough! It is over.”
Arrozco stepped back and threw his knife to the ground as his friends rushed to him.
Dr. Ramirez approached Raul who was still ready to fight. “It is over Señor Mackenzie. Blood has been drawn and honor satisfied.”
“Ah!” Raul exclaimed with a sudden understanding of the local dueling code. The shedding of blood of a wound was good enough to stop the fight.
Arrozco, smiling and dabbing at his cut face with a handkerchief approached Raul with an outstretched hand. “Well done, Señor Mackenzie.”
Raul accepted the friendliness of the young man’s gesture. “You did quite well yourself.”
“Frankly, I thought I was going to get to you for a moment there,” Arrozco said. He was obviously proud of having fought the duel. “Where did I go wrong?”
Raul explained the proper use of the Bowie knife as the other men crowded around congratulating him on a magnificent rally and win. He demonstrated various slashes toward different parts of an opponent’s body, hand-changing techniques and other tactics useful in fighting with a knife.
Arrozco kept the handkerchief to the wound. “So I learned a valuable lesson and will have a magnificent scar to mark this honorable occasion.”
The small crowd cheered and began to good-naturedly pummel both duelists as they renewed their congratulations. Raul was literally soaked in perspiration and now not feeling well. “I need to rest a bit.”
“Very well!” Arrozco exclaimed. “And a celebration tonight.” He laid a hand on Raul’s shoulder. “You and I shall have a boisterous evening of carousing and drinking. Then we shall top it off with a manly attack on Selva Vista’s finest brothel. Can you join me, Mackenzie?”
“Certainly,” Raul replied.
“Fine. Meet me in the hotel bar at ten o’clock. And you will be my guest.”
Raul nodded as he and Angel turned back to the hotel. Angel was fairly beaming. “Everything is now in order and you may begin your search for the girl.”
“It looks as if our task has been simplified,” Raul conceded. “Let us hope that nothing bad has happened to Slattery’s niece in the meantime.”
“There has been something in the back of my mind,” Angel said as they entered the hotel. “And it has been troublesome. Do you suppose the gringa might have killed herself rather than submit to being an inmate of a brothel?”
“She has certainly had the time to do it.”
“Then why not press your new friends for information now, patron?”
“If I appear too anxious in looking for a particular girl, especially one in Loretta Slattery’s predicament, it might raise suspicions,” Raul explained. “Believe me; patience is called for here.”
~*~
It was five minutes past ten p.m. when the glasses were dutifully filled with tequila by the bartender. Rodolfo Arrozco, his face bandaged, raised his glass high and faced Raul. “If I have said anything to offend you, I apologize.”
Raul lifted his own. “And if I have besmirched your character, I apologize.”
“Those knives will become famous,” Rodolfo said, indicating the weapons now back in their place on the wall.
“I imagine the details of our duel will become wilder and more hair-raising with each subsequent telling of the tale,” Raul predicted.
“Por su puesto — of course!” Rodolfo replied, laughing. “Why talk about exciting events if you cannot embellish them, eh?”
“Enough of this fighting talk,” Raul said. “Let us turn our attention to an evening of diversion. What is the first thing we shall do?”
“After a few more drinks I suggest we go to El Baron, which is Selva Vista’s best whorehouse,” Rodolfo said.
“What is so special about it?”
“It has the best girls, of course. The madam spares no expense in keeping her stable the most attractive in this part of Mexico. In fact, many men come up from Guatemala just to take their pleasure there.”
“Who is the best girl in the house?” Raul asked.
“There is a girl who is part Indian and part Chinese who makes the best playmate. But the most beautiful is, alas, the coldest.”
“Too bad,” Raul remarked. “Which one is that?”
“La huera — the blond one. A norteamericana who has been there but a few weeks. I am sure she will improve as time passes. She is in great demand because blondes are so unusual, and she is a breathtaking sight. Another problem is that she cannot speak Spanish.”
“Now she really sounds interesting,” Raul commented. Surely this was Loretta Slattery. “How did she end up in Selva Vista?”
Rodolfo shrugged. “Who knows? Like many of the girls she had bruises when she first appeared. No doubt she had no desire for the life of a puta. But since so many have had her by now, she has no choice.”
Raul compared this cavalier behavior of Rodolfo’s with Angel’s strong opinion regarding the callous attitude the rich have for the poor in Mexico. He forced a smile, saying, “I believe I shall try that huera.”
“Let us go now then, “ Rodolfo said. “We are both young stallions and the evening is young.”
Laughing and a little drunk, the two left the hotel and walked through the dimly lit commercial district of the city. The store owners, following Latin American custom, close their businesses for the inevitable siesta time during the hottest part of the day. Then they return to reopen them in the early evening. The day’s work is finished after sunset and they go to their homes for a late supper. As Raul and Rodolfo walked along the streets, the stores were being locked and the merchants anticipated the large meals awaiting them in their homes.
~*~
The El Baron whorehouse was a square formidable building built around an open courtyard. A fancy bar was operated under one archway as the girls working the place circulated in the well-kept garden under the open sky.
Raul and Rodolfo bought drinks then settled down by the fountain that dominated the scene. Both young men inspected the girls who strolled through the area trying to entice customers to take them upstairs. A gaudily gowned middle-aged woman who was obviously the madam appeared. She quickly caught sight of Raul’s companion.
“Rodolfo!” she beamed. “How nice to see you.”
“And you, Doña Barbara,” Rodolfo said, standing up. “May I present my friend Raul Mackenzie? His is visiting our city from up north.”
The woman allowed Raul to kiss her hand, then she turned back to Rodolfo. “What happened to your face?”
“Raul cut me.”
“Ay! How naughty!” Doña Barbara said. She looked at Raul. “Why did you do such a terrible thing to Rodolfo? He is a nice boy.”
Rodolfo laughed. “An affair of honor. Now we are friends and celebrating our new camaraderie.”
“I am certainly glad you are no longer cutting each other,” the woman said.
“Tonight we are not fighters, we are lovers,” Rodolfo pronounced. “My friend is interested in la huera. How are his chances of visiting her?”
“It will not be possible tonight,” Doña Barbara replied. “I have placed her at the disposal of two gentlemen from Guatemala. She will be servicing them until dawn.”
“What about tomorrow?” Raul inquired.
“She is very expensive,” Doña Barbara said. “It will cost you five hundred pesos.”
“That is no problem,” Raul assured her.
“In that case, I shall put you in her appointment book,” she said. “And you can count on it. How does eleven o’clock sound?”
“Fine,” Raul said. “All night?”
“Of course.”
“But for now we shall settle for a couple of your other beauties,” Rodolfo said. “Come, Raul, let us make our choices. I cannot wait another instant.”
Raul smiled weakly, thinking of Loretta Slattery imprisoned somewhere above them, at the mercy of two men whose language she couldn’t even speak. He brightened his expression. “I am ready, Rodolfo. Let us pick two pretty ones, eh?”
It was four in the morning when Raul and his new friend finally left El Baron. As they went through the front gate and walked past the alley that ran the length of the large building, Rodolfo pointed to a heavily barred window on the second floor. “That is the room where they keep the blonde one, Raul. Just think. Tonight you will be in her arms, enjoying her beauty to your heart’s content.”
Raul nodded, his thoughts turning to the grim prospects of forming a hurried plan to rescue Loretta from the people who had enslaved her. The window of her room was not too high, which meant that any escape from there would be relatively easy if chains were used for the bars. When the way out was cleared, they would use ropes to lower themselves to the ground. The problem was the alley. It was long and narrow, faintly lit by street lights at both ends. No matter how dark the night, anyone in it could easily be seen by pursuers.