15
Mitch’s booming voice shattered Slocum’s sleep. “Mi amigo! Yeah, you made it back—barely, huh?”
Dull headed, Slocum sat up in the great feather bed and blinked in the bright sunlight streaming in the windows when the one-armed man swept the tall red drapes back from the panes.
“Is she . . . ?” Dread stabbed deep in his heart. Was Martina alive? His memory of sweeping her off her horse and feeling her body limp in his arms, followed by the welcome of the night before, was all blending together in a haze that he could not separate out enough to recall.
“Sleeping. But she ate something last night.”
“Good.” He lay back down and stared at the peeled ceiling timbers that supported the tall roof. “I’m sorry. We did our best.”
“More than most would do. Get up. They bring you bath water, a razor and towels. We plan a great fiesta for you and your army’s success. No one else could have done this job so well, mi amigo.”
“Has she seen that her son was well?”
“Obregón told me about that. Yes, last night, even before she ate. I think that was what helped her the most.”
“I wondered—I thought it might.”
“Ah, she will be fine in time, I am certain.”
Slocum closed his eyes. Thank God.
“How can I repay you?”
“With fresh horses and supplies. I want this Salazar skinned alive.”
“Whoa! Whoa! Give yourself a few days to rest up some, have some fun and dance.”
“Where is Angela?”
“Bathing and getting dressed for tonight’s event. That is why I came to wake you.”
“Thank you. And the men?”
“At home resting—they were very impressed with what you did. They told me many things.”
Slocum nodded his head in agreement. “They’re loyal, tough hombres. They were a big help to me.”
A brigade of pretty women carrying buckets of water burst into the room and began filling the tub and laughing. They teased Slocum about sleeping all day and promised him much food and drink if he came to the kitchen.
While they filed out, laughing at him, Mitch clapped him on the shoulder. “We are all so grateful.”
Still in a daze, Slocum thanked his friend, and then Mitch took his leave. Slocum found the hot water relaxing to his stiff muscles, and he tried to go over in his head all the things that had happened since he last slept in the fine bed. Lots.
The party that evening was fun. Angela joined him, outfitted in an expensive silk dress. “Nothing is too good for any of us,” she whispered behind her hand to him.
“I haven’t seen Martina,” he said back.
“She is better, but perhaps not ready for all this commotion.”
He agreed and moved through the hustle of the invited guests, stopped by several who asked, “Aren’t you the man who brought Señora McCarty back safely?”
Slocum nodded, feeling uncomfortable. He’d brought her back all right, but perhaps broken. Certainly not “safe.” She might never be her old self—the smiling, beautiful hostess of the hacienda.
“What concerns you?” Angela looped an arm through one of Slocum’s and leaned against him.
“The fact that La Cucaracha is still free and no doubt up to more trouble against innocent people.”
“But you are only one man. What can you do?”
“I’m working on that.”
“Come with me. This is the event of my life.” She snatched two glasses of champagne off the tray a server carried and handed one to him. “Let’s have fun tonight. We can chase down the Cockroach later.”
He saw the pleading in her sexy brown eyes. Unable to deny her this special evening, he toasted her with his glass. “To the bruja from the small village. May the night sparkle.”
“Gracias, mi amigo. Don’t look now, but my suitor is coming.”
“Will he ask you to dance?”
“I suspect so.”
“Then dance with him. It will be his thrill.”
“I guess so.”
The well-dressed rancher, Don Juarta, bowed and politely asked Slocum’s permission to dance with Angela. Slocum restrained his amusement and solemnly said, “Certainly.”
He watched them go through the crowd and just about laughed at the look of excitement on the poor man’s face over having Angela in his arms. Slocum mused about her story of how extreme Don Juarta’s arousal was the last time that he emptied his charge on her belly.
“I take it you are Slocum?” a tall man with a clipped mustache asked.
“Yes, but I don’t think we have met.” Slocum studied the man, who was tall for a Latino, maybe five-ten. He bore the stiff back of a cavalry officer. Something about him made him look important, but his dark, inquiring gaze that sized Slocum up made Slocum anxious about the man’s purpose.
“What can I do for you?”
“Tell me all you know about Mendez Salazar.”
“Why? He had Mitch’s wife kidnapped. What else?”
“Why would an heir to a fortune in Mexico City be involved in such a common crime?”
“I guess because it’s a thrill.”
The man gave a short, silent nod as if factoring Slocum’s words into some theory he held. “Will that be the end of his law breaking?”
“No. He’s involved in crimes all over the area.”
“Oh, dear God, man. Can you prove it?”
“I never caught your name,” Slocum said.
“Raul Donovan. My father was Irish and killed in the Mexican War with your country.”
“You have taken up the sword?” Slocum asked.
“I was in the army. The military is a place to gain some rank in this country, especially with an Irish name.”
“I see. And today?”
“Today I am a private citizen.”
Slocum nodded. “Very good.”
“Will you go and look again for this Salazar?”
“I don’t think so,” Slocum lied. Why had this man come to ask him all these questions? He had a purpose—good or bad. Slocum was not certain what the ex-soldier was up to, but something about the man made Slocum hesitate to trust him.
The money of Salazar’s family could afford any spy they wanted to hire. This man might be such an agent for them. His father had already had the government send in the federales to stop any opposition—why wouldn’t they hire such a slick-talking hombre as Donovan? Money meant nothing to them.
Angela was back, smiling at this man.
“Raul Donovan,” Slocum said.
“Angela,” she said.
“My pleasure, señora.”
“Gracias. Excuse us, señor.” Then she turned to Slocum. “I must tell you something if you are through here.”
“Certainly. We must talk some more later,” he said to the man.
The man agreed and then walked off with a “Later.”
Slocum turned and led her to the side. “You know that hombre?”
She frowned, looking back to be certain Donovan was not in hearing. “No, but Don Juarta told me he is a member of the presidente’s police. And to watch him.”
“I figured as much. No doubt he is being financed by Salazar’s father.”
“What shall we do?”
“Silence all the talk of our going back out to find Salazar.”
“How do you do that?”
“Tell Francisco to keep our preparations secret and have the ranch help to do the same. I’ll do this later tonight. Donovan gets too damn nosy, we’ll cut off his nose.”
She laughed and then covered her mouth as if embarrassed.
He hugged her shoulder. “Two of us can surely outmaneuver him.”
“I hope so.”
Later Slocum found the McCarty’s segundo and told him the problem.
Serious-faced, Francisco asked, “You want me to have him killed?”
Slocum shook his head to dismiss his concern. “I can handle him.”
“I will be sure nothing is said about the preparations.”
“Gracias.” Slocum returned through the kitchen and smiled at the busy crew before reentering the party. Angela soon found him, and he explained his absence. She nodded in agreement.
Slocum knew that McCarty had earlier excused his wife Martina from the festivities because she tired easily. Slocum had only seen her at a distance. Behind her smile she still wore a haggard appearance. His only contact with her since they returned had been brief, and she’d thanked him. But while she had obviously made some improvement, she was a long way from being herself. She might never fully recover.
Angela made Slocum dance to the band of musicians, and he swung her around the floor. Out of breath, they moved to the edge of the crowd.
“You probably dance much better in a cantina.” She laughed and then threw her hair back from her face, smoothing it down.
“Ah, yes, but you are enjoying this so much, maybe you should reconsider a life with Juarta.”
“You tease me, of course. I can find better men than him, or I’d go back and be happy living in that jacal where you found me.”
He swept her up and kissed her.
“Who—” she said, coming from his embrace. Then she stopped. “Who is that man talking with Donovan now?”
“I never saw him before. Have you?”
“Sí, in the village in the mountains. I saw him in the square, when I was searching for you.”
“Donovan must have more spies here.”
“What will they try next?”
“I don’t know, but I would say they are concerned about me going back up there.”
She agreed. “I will go dance with Juarta. He may know the man’s name.”
“Be careful. I’ll watch for him.”
“Don’t worry, they won’t catch me sleeping.”
Slocum spotted a cattle buyer who shipped cattle up to the United States from the border and paused to speak to him. “How is business?”
“So-so. One day it is good, next day no one wants them. Like the old rail markets dried up on us. Cattle shipping costs are too high to ship and then sell them. We were better off taking a dozen boys and driving them to Kansas. But there are so many barbwire fences it’s nearly impossible to drive them overland now.”
Slocum agreed, and they shook hands and parted. Then he met Angela and led her off to the side. “Did Juarta know the man?”
She shook her head. “But I saw another man from up in the mountains. His left ear was cut off at some time.”
With a slow shake of his head, Slocum tried to recall an earless man. But he couldn’t think of one he’d seen up there, other than the one whose ear he’d cut off himself, but this man was not him. He may have had long hair to disguise his loss. That needled him. Donovan had the party loaded with his spies, and they might be there to eliminate the pistoleros as well. In fact, it seemed very likely to Slocum that his pistoleros were in immediate danger.
“Come on,” he said.
He rushed through the kitchen with Angela on his heels. “I need to find Francisco.”
“He has gone to his casa,” one of the sweaty-faced women said, then lifted her large, stained apron to wipe her wet face.
“Can you point it out?”
“Rachel, show him Francisco’s casa,” she said to a younger girl who shed her apron and led them on the run.
The casa was a good ways from the hacienda. Hurrying down the dusty road, he wondered if Angela needed to stop, she was huffing so hard. But she waved him to go on.
“Francisco!” he shouted at the dark adobe house.
A lamp flickered on in the casa. The man shouted, “Coming!”
Slocum put his hands on the plaster wall and tried to recover his wind. Angela collapsed on the ground, and the young girl who had brought them coughed, supporting herself with her hands on her knees.
“What is wrong, amigo?” Francisco asked, dressing in his shirt as he came outside.
“There are some men here at the party who I think will try or have already tried to kill your pistoleros.”
“Who are they?”
“I only have one name—Donovan.”
“I don’t know him. Here, take a rifle.”
“Thanks,” Slocum said, taking the cartridges Francisco offered first and then the Winchester rifle. “There is one of them who lost his left ear. You know of anyone like that?”
Francisco made a face in the light coming from outside. “I have heard of such a man, if he is the same one.”
Several mounted guards had come on horseback to see what was wrong. Their boss immediately gave them orders. “Take four men and go find Obregón, Jesús and Cherrycow. There are killers here who may try to kill them.”
“Sí, we are on our way,” one man promised, then picked three others to accompany him. The four galloped off, and the others milled around on their mounts.
“Go back to the house and keep your eyes open for anyone leaving who looks like trouble. Try to hold them, but if they show arms, kill them.”
The riders left for the house.
Francisco said, “I have some horses I keep saddled out in back just in case. Will Angela come with us?”
Slocum nodded. Recovered, Angela nodded and ran with them around the casa. Slocum drew up a cinch for her and tossed her on a horse. She nodded that all was well with her and gathered the reins.
“We don’t know if they left the house. Let’s check there first.” Slocum on his mount led the way under the stars, down the road reflecting the moon between the knee-high irrigated crops beside it.
Two house guards came out back, and their boss asked them if any men without women had left.
“A few left shortly after Señor Slocum left.”
“Which direction?”
“West, when they left here.”
“Did anyone know them?”
“One was Colonel Donovan. Juan said that he used to be in the army.”
“What about a one-eared man?” Slocum asked.
“Sí, I saw him leave too after Donovan left.”
“Maybe they have left the ranchero?” Francisco asked Slocum.
“We won’t know until your guards return.”
Francisco made a pained face in the moonlight. “Why do you think they want to kill the pistoleros?”
“Because they helped me and know much of this Cockroach deal.”
“What is all the commotion about out here?” Mitch asked, coming out the kitchen door.
Slocum held his finger to his lips and lowered his own voice. “We think some assassins were here tonight and may still be on your place.”
In the starlight, Mitch frowned. “On my ranch?”
“There was a man here named Donovan. A suspect who I think is the leader.”
“I know that man. What has he done?”
“You better watch him. He’s connected to the others I don’t trust.”
“What is their purpose?”
“I think to learn if I was going back after Salazar and maybe to kill the three men who helped me.”
“Holy shit. How did you learn all this?”
“Angela saw a man here tonight that was in the village in the mountains, who had lost an ear.”
Mitch nodded. “I saw him once and wondered who had sent him an invitation.”
“La Cucaracha did, is my guess.”
“Oh, damn. What about the pistoleros?”
“I sent four good men to the workers’ village,” Francisco said. “To be sure they were warned and safe.”
“Where did the others who left the party go?” Mitch asked.
“Patrón, the guards here say they rode west.”
Slocum had dismounted. “But they may have circled back.”
“Who do these devils work for anyway?”
“Well, Mitch, I think they all work for the Cockroach. This man Donovan is smarter than his foot soldiers.”
Mitch shook his head in disbelief. “Who can we trust?”
“Us.” Slocum laughed and hugged Angela, who was under his wing.