18
Slocum veered to the south, taking another entry into the vast Sierra Madres. He sold the extra horses, too cheap, to a rancher who needed them. Jesús was grateful, because herding and feeding so many animals was lots of extra work for him. Slocum shared the proceeds from the sale with his men, and they rested one day in the foothills. The place they stayed was a grassy valley with a fresh stream out of the Madres to bathe in. Everyone’s spirits had risen, and they were going into the mountains the next day.
Midafternoon, when all but Obregón and Cherrycow, who were scouting ahead, were taking a siesta, Slocum heard a hard-pressed horse galloping toward their camp and soon saw Obregón on his bay splashing through the stream. He grabbed his sombrero and rushed to meet him.
“What’s wrong?”
“Mendez Salazar and his men are up there in the village of Los Piñones. They are drunk, raping women and children—shooting men who object.”
“Why are they there?”
“Some of his men have told the villagers they planned to surprise and kill you.”
“How did he get word we were taking this route?”
Obregón turned up his palms. “I have no idea.”
Disgusted by the turn of this event, Slocum needed to know how to use this twist for their advantage. “Where is Cherrycow?”
“Scouting the place for more information.”
“Salazar is with these men?”
“Sí, he is not hiding anymore.”
“He had the same idea I had to use this trail. How many men does he have with him?”
“Hard to tell. Maybe a dozen.”
“Get ready, we need to take out as many as we can tonight. Drunk or pussy crazy, they will be vulnerable.”
“Sí,” Obregón agreed.
“Where is he staying? Salazar?” Slocum’s mind listed his needs as he sorted out the operation ahead.
“In a large casa in the village.”
“Good, this time he can’t run too far.”
“What is wrong?” Angela asked, hurrying over and tossing her hair from her face.
“Our man is only miles from here. Planning to come out and get us.”
“So?” She searched both of their faces. “What now?”
“While they are drunk and partying tonight, we will strike and get them.”
She nodded. “Good.”
Half an hour later, every man was armed and ready. They rode for the village. They met Cherrycow on the road and then divided into pairs. Slocum felt his men would not be recognized in the dark and doubted many of the bandits knew them.
After sundown, they filtered into the village like a small group simply traveling through. Obregón paid a young puta to lure the man he thought was Salazar’s captain into the alley. Once the man was outside in the dark, they conked him on the head, and then Slocum and Obregón dragged him off to a small jacal. Angela remained outside with the girl as lookouts.
“What is your name?” Slocum demanded as the man came around moaning, hands and feet tied on the cot, the candlelight bathing his angry face.
“Who—” Obregón’s sharp knife blade on his jugular vein silenced him.
“Lower your voice or you won’t live.”
“Julio.”
“Where is your patrón?”
“I don’t—”
“You better know, ’cause your chicken neck depends on it.”
“At—the casa—I guess.”
“How many guards are there?”
“Four.”
“How many men do you have?”
“Thirty.”
“You lie. I counted the horses,” Cherrycow said.
“Fifteen.”
“Better.” Obregón turned to Slocum. “What else do we need?”
“When did you plan to ride to kill us?” Slocum asked the man.
“Tomorrow.”
Slocum considered their plans, then he nodded. Obregón made a slicing sign at his own throat. Slocum agreed. The number two man was gone. They dragged his limp body out and concealed it behind another jacal.
Angela soon joined him. “What happened?”
Slocum shook his head to indicate he’d explain later. “Tell that girl we need her to lure another one out here.”
“She’s scared to death.”
“Better to be afraid than dead. Tell her these men have killed others in the village, but we won’t let them kill her.”
Angela agreed and went back to hug the girl’s shoulders. The teenager must have been good at her business, for in the next hour she lured three more hired guns outside and they were eliminated. Jesús and Cherrycow soon joined them. They had personally taken care of some of Salazar’s men and gotten a couple of the real bad guys. Slocum thanked them, and then a commotion up the alley made them quiet down.
Two men were arguing over price with an older puta. Obregón headed in that direction, and Slocum made Angela get against the wall. A muffled gunshot sounded, and one of the bandits crumpled to the ground. The second tried to run, but one of Slocum’s men clubbed him down with his gun butt. By then Slocum had the woman by the arm.
“Do you know the casa where this bandit leader hides?”
“Sí, señor.” She was trembling.
“We are your friends. We want this bastard who leads these men.”
She bobbed her head up and down rapidly. “I can show you the way.”
They made the street crossing and into the next alley without drawing any notice. Several of the enemy were raising hell in the cantinas they passed. But Slocum wanted to get his hands on Salazar.
They climbed a steep hill and in the starlight, the whitewashed walls showed that the lighted grounds were well cared for. Moving beside the heavily perfumed woman, Slocum caught her arm. “Hold up. How do we get inside?”
“Go right through the kitchen. The women working in there are very upset. His men raped too many of the young girls there when they first came here.”
Angela, coming on his heels, agreed with her. “We came at a good time.”
Inside the kitchen, where the women were preparing for breakfast, their dark eyes looked shocked at the sight of the men, but when the puta put her finger to her lips, they did the same to each other.
“This man is here to take out those bastardos.”
“Where is he?” Slocum asked.
“Top floor upstairs. There are no locks.” An older women with her hands white with flour gave a head toss. “Straight ahead up there.”
Pistol in hand, Slocum told Angela to stay in the kitchen, then he rushed across the great room to start up the open staircase. A man burst out of a room upstairs and fired a shot that made Slocum duck down on the steps.
Boiling, acrid gun smoke filled the two-story room, obscuring Slocum’s view of the man’s face, and Slocum could hear the man escaping down some back steps. Slocum changed course and ran to the rear of the house, bursting out into the starlit garden to take a shot at a running figure. But he missed. His intended victim jumped over the railing and was gone again. His boot heels clacked on the flat flagstone walk through what Slocum considered a garden—he was in hot pursuit.
If the one he followed was Salazar, he was not losing any time trying to get away. At the gate Slocum took two shots at the fleeing figure. Neither stopped him, so he must have missed again. He reloaded his Colt.
“Where did he go?” the out-of-breath Obregón asked, catching up with him.
“Down in that live oak somewhere. I must have missed him. Get the others. He’ll have to come out. How did the rest do in town?”
“The bandits left are holed up in the jail. Do you want us to charge it?”
“Don’t risk any of our men’s lives. Blow the damn thing up.”
“Sí. What about the man who ran off?”
“We’ll get him too . . . later.” He studied the live oak thicket in the ambient light of predawn. “Bring some of those blasting sticks you have left up here. We may just bring him out of there with them.”
“Certainly.” Then Obregón was gone.
Slocum slapped his Colt back in his holster. Angela joined him in the predawn chill, hugging her arms. “It’s cold out here.”
“It will soon be hot,” he promised her.
“Was it him you shot at?”
“I think so. It all happened so fast, and there was not much light to shoot by.”
“What will he do next?”
“Try to escape.” Slocum’s belly growled. They soon would need some food.
“You don’t think he will try to kill you?”
“Yes, he will. Now harder than ever. Let’s go back inside.”
“What if he sneaks back?” She took a last look at the night and the dark live oak where the figure had disappeared.
“One thing at a time,” he said and turned her toward the casa.
Obregón returned from the village while Slocum and Angela ate the fresh food prepared for them. Joining them in the kitchen, Obregón, his sombrero in hand, reported. “The jail is gone, so are the bandits. I think we got all of them. Any who are left must be burning the ground to get the hell out of there. The people of the village dragged the last two out of beds where they were raping women and hacked them to death.”
“Good enough. Now we need to find Salazar. Sit down, amigo, and eat first. He can wait.” Slocum indicated the seat opposite his.
“Ah, you are hungry, no?” a sweet thing from the kitchen crew asked his man and then brought him a heaping plate of food.
“Oh, gracias.” Obregón looked in awe at all she brought him.
“You are very welcome, señor. You have saved all the women who work here. We are all very grateful.” She curtsied for him and went back to work as the other women applauded them.
“Wow,” Obregón said, sounding impressed as he sat down. “We have made a big deal in this place, no?”
“Yes, a very big change to this simple village.”
Busy eating, the man asked, “Who owns this place?”
Slocum looked at Angela for the answer.
“They said a man named Crawford, but he is in Mexico City right now. Salazar simply took this place over.”
“A good thing for him that he was gone, or he’d be dead too, huh?” Obregón dove into eating.
Slocum, amused by the man’s hunger, agreed and winked at Angela. “Obregón, you weren’t hungry, were you?”
The man paused. Then he looked at Slocum and Angela like he had just noticed them. “This is such good food, I don’t want to miss a bite.”
He went back to eating, and they laughed.