Tim Harrigan and his wife Carmela sat in the shade of a large Montezuma cypress tree in the enclosed patio of their mansion. This was located within the four sides of the luxurious dwelling with a wide opening to the sky. Comfortable outdoor furniture with wide umbrellas and a fire pit for cold winter evenings completed the amenities.
Carmela was reading the novel Tres Mosqueteros translated into Spanish from the French when her rapt attention in the book was suddenly disturbed. No noise caused the disruption, instead it was the silence of her husband. Their affinity was so strong and intimate, that one could sense the moods of the other. Her husband had not uttered a single word since they sat down, and Carmela sensed he was anxious and worried about something.
She leaned toward him. “Is something wrong, querido?”
“Huh?” Harrigan uttered.
“You have not made a sound since we came out here.”
“Oh, I am just thinking about some business. There is nothing to fret over. But it is somewhat complicated.” He smiled at her. “Are you enjoying your book?”
“I certainly am!” Carmela answered. “It involves my most favorite subjects to read about; amor y aventura.”
Harrigan chuckled. “Well, I shall just sit here quietly while you peruse that world of romance and adventure.”
She turned her attention back to the novel while Harrigan concentrated on the subject that troubled him.
Harrigan loved Mexico and hated America, and he sensed that a situation was in the making that would prove devastating to his adopted country. To make this state of affairs more unpleasant, he was going to have to seek help from the Gringos. His past financial activities had required commercial relationships with Americans on several occasions. He was painfully aware they had much more money that their Mexican counterparts and that meant he had to negotiate cautious agreements to be sure there was no undue advantage taken by the wily yanquis
Now there was one more antagonist in the mix. It was the German Kaiser and he was obviously going to be a hundred times worse than any greedy American who had nefarious intentions toward Mexico and its people. Harrigan’s Irish blood boiled at the thought of Latin America being turned into a gigantic colony ruled by Teutonic masters. It hadn’t taken him long to realize it would be impossible to thwart a German takeover without American assistance.
Harrigan was well acquainted with the American ambassador Alan Densmore. The man was a decent sort and at times showed an unusual amount of fairness while acting as a mediator between Minister Harrigan and American entrepreneurs. Harrigan figured there would be two prime difficulties to deal with when it came to informing the ambassador of the Germans’ plan. Firstly, he would have to convince Densmore the truth of the situation; and secondly, he would have to keep from getting assassinated long enough to accomplish his goal.
Carmela sighed and laid her novel on her lap. “Reading makes me sleepy,” she stated, then looked over at her husband. “Why are you frowning, mi amor?”
“Was I frowning?”
“Most assuredly. There is something troubling you.”
He forced a smile. “I think I ate too many jalapeños with my ranchero eggs this morning. My belly feels like it is on fire.”
Carmela shook her head reprovingly. “I have been warning you for years not to put too many chili peppers in that Irish stomach.”
Harrigan thought, I wish that was my only problem.
~*~
The vengadores were arranged along the road that wound through the rolling hills between the towns of Santo Cielo and Tobeyville, Texas. A tree had been cut down and dragged out to block the route of the stagecoach they were waiting to ambush.
Sub-Comandante Santiago Gomez’s team was arranged along the north side of the crude thoroughfare facing a wall of boulders opposite their positions. The vengadores belonging to Comandante Jager were farther down, hidden in the dense scrub. All had found excellent firing positions in which to employ their Berthier carbines.
The dust cloud of the approaching stagecoach could be seen in the distance, and everyone tensed for the confrontation. When the vehicle came into view around a sharp turn, the driver saw the fallen tree and pulled back hard on the reins, while pushing down on the wooden brake lever with his foot. The horses came to a halt a few short yards from the obstruction.
Jager stepped into view, aiming his carbine at the guard who cradled a shotgun in his arms. “Throw your weapon into the brush! Raise your hands! Now!”
The man quickly obeyed. The rest of the ambushers emerged and came down to the road. Jager walked over to the stagecoach and opened the door. Four male passengers gazed at him in surprise and shock.
“Get out with your hands up!” Jager commanded.
The travelers did exactly what they were told to do. They turned their eyes on the robbers, confused by their appearances. They noticed that some looked like native Mexicans, others had the appearance of mixed-race mestizos, while others showed rust colored hair and blue eyes.
The driver spoke to Jager. “We ain’t got no strongbox, mister.”
Gomez motioned the passengers to move over to the side of the road. The four obeyed, looking dismayed. The guard eyed the vengadores. “You fellers is the biggest damn gang of robbers I ever seen. By God there’s fourteen of you.”
Jager stepped back, then commanded, “Fuego!”
The vengadores began shooting. The driver was knocked back, then fell forward to slide down to the dashboard. The guard tumbled from his seat to the road while the passengers stood transfixed. One turned and ran for the brush but was shot in the back as his fellow travelers crumpled under another hail of bullets. The horses reared up, whinnying.
“Remove the tree,” Jager ordered.
Several vengadores grabbed the obstruction and pulled it into the scrub. Jager slapped one of the horses on the rump and it pushed against the traces until able to get the stagecoach rolling. Within moments, he and his mate were galloping down the road.
Jager laughed. “I wish I could be in town when that empty wagon comes charging down the street.” He pointed to the dead men. “Take advantage of the situation. I am certain you will find money and valuables.”
“Yes,” Gomez said. “Consider it as souvenirs.”
The vengadores quickly turned to robbing the corpses.