Beatriz Alvarez gave a well-simulated shriek of alarm and sprang away from Major Carlos Badillo, staring at Colonel Sebastian Saucedo who, sword in hand, was stepping into view from behind a clump of bushes. Seeing his rival’s head turn in his direction, the burly officer spat out a curse and started to rush forward. Instead of offering to explain his presence, or asking what had brought the other man to the clearing in the woodland about half a mile south of General José Urrea’s hacienda, Badillo began to snatch the saber from its sheath so that he could defend himself against the colonel’s attack.
Although the woman could have told the two officers that the situation was not what they imagined, she had no intention of doing so. Nor was it likely that either of them would have listened to her. Their mutual hatred, long festering and growing, had been brought to a head and was filling them with an irresistible desire to kill. It was so compelling that neither suspected they had been manipulated into the present situation for Major Francisco Alvarez’s purposes.
Saucedo’s arrival was in response to a message from Beatriz, saying that Badillo had learned of their relationship and was threatening to tell her husband. Approaching the clearing where she had asked him to meet her, he had seen that the major was already there. Deciding that it would be an ideal opportunity to kill his rival, he drew his sword and moved in quietly. His hope of taking Badillo by surprise had failed due to what he imagined was the woman’s inadvertent response on seeing him. It did not occur to him that, having asked him to meet her in the clearing at half past three, she ought not to have been surprised when he appeared.
Having been lured by a similar message, Badillo was no more aware than Saucedo of Beatriz’s treachery. Nor, under the circumstances, could he devote time to wondering how the colonel came to be on the spot at such an inopportune moment. His thoughts were entirely occupied with how he could save his own life and kill Saucedo.
Much the better fencer, Badillo was not given the opportunity to make full use of his superior skill. Even as his saber came free from the scabbard, Saucedo was almost upon him.
Up swung the colonel’s right arm, so as to deliver a blow that would end the matter to his satisfaction. Before it could be completed, Badillo went into a classic lunge. Flashing forward, the point of the saber sank deep into the left side of Saucedo’s breast Mortal though the thrust was, it came too late to prevent the colonel’s sword from descending. Down it whipped, driven by all the power in his body. At almost the same instant that Badillo’s weapon pierced Saucedo’s heart, his blade struck the top of the major’s skull and split it open to the bridge of the nose.
Both men went down, killed instantly, victims of the kind of reckless attack which the French called the coup des deux veuves. xlii They died without discovering how, or why, they had been tricked.
Looking down at the corpses for a moment, Beatriz swung on her heel and walked rapidly away. Revulsion and horror over what had happened was not the cause of her retreat. Although she had pretended affection for each of them—and had been much more intimate in her dealings with them than her husband suspected—their deaths meant nothing to her. No matter how far she had gone in lovemaking, her relationships had been no more than a means to serve Alvarez’s ends.
Having seen the first part of her husband’s latest scheme brought to a much more successful conclusion than they had anticipated (they had expected no more than a fight ending with the death of either Saucedo or Badillo) the woman had to set the next stage into motion. Crossing the clearing without so much as a backwards glance at the bodies, she went through the woodland to where a sergeant and corporal who served on Alvarez’s staff were waiting with three horses.
‘Is everything all right, senora?’ the sergeant inquired.
‘Perfect,’ Beatriz answered. ‘Help me mount and then go and do what the major told you!’
After assisting the woman to board her horse’s sidesaddle, the soldiers swung astride their own mounts. On leaving the woodland, the trio split up. The sergeant galloped in the direction of the Tamaulipa Lancers’ camp and the corporal went towards the lines of the ‘Landero’ Line Infantry Battalion. In accordance with their orders, they regulated their respective speeds so that they would arrive at their destinations practically simultaneously.
Following at a more leisurely pace, Beatriz watched the men and was satisfied that they were carrying out their instructions correctly. The hacienda hid the infantry encampment from her view, so she gave her attention to the sergeant. From her position, she could see several groups of Lancers scattered about their camp and guessed what the subject of their conversation must be. Her husband had had them informed, in Urrea’s name, that the cantina would be closed and other restrictions enforced as punishment for the previous night’s disturbance. The news was certain to increase their resentment and hatred of the foot soldiers, particularly as they had been left with the impression that Saucedo intended to use his rank to prevent the restrictions applying to his men.
Passing through the tent lines, the sergeant drew rein by a crowd consisting of officers and senior non-coms. Although the distance was too great for Beatriz to hear what was being said, she knew he was telling them that Saucedo had arrested Badillo at the hacienda and had taken him to the infantry lines. From all appearances, the news had the desired effect. Without asking questions, the party split up, the officers shouting orders. Rapidly arming themselves, the Lancers formed up on foot and headed toward their rivals’ camp. Any doubts which might have fingered were washed away by the sight of the infantrymen, who had received the same news but in reverse, coming to meet them.
Satisfied that all was going as required, Beatriz passed through the rear gate. Even as she rode towards the stables, shots sounded and were followed by shouts, screams of men in agony and the commotion of savage close-quarters fighting. The other arrangements were equally satisfactory. Her coach was outside the stables, its team hitched and under the supervision of two more members of her husband’s staff.
‘Is everything ready?’ Beatriz demanded, dropping to the ground.
‘Si, senora,’ the older man replied. ‘All is loaded, but what’s happening out—’
‘Don’t let it bother you, it’s nothing to do with us,’ the woman answered, and looked around. Where is my husband?’
‘He hasn’t come back yet, senora,’ the man answered, continuing to glance nervously in the direction of the disturbance.
‘Are the gringos here?’ Beatriz wanted to know.
‘The big one and the Indian are in the stable, saddling their horses,’ the man declared, showing agitation. ‘But what about—’
‘Where is the other gringo?’ Beatriz interrupted.
‘He said he’d left something in his room and went back,’ the man began.
‘Give me your pistol!’ Beatriz snapped, holding out her right hand.
‘Is something wr—?’ the man gulped, but the urgency in the woman’s tone made him respond to her demand.
‘I don’t know,’ the woman admitted, turning and striding away. ‘Stay here and be sure that everything is ready for us to move off as soon as we come back.’
~*~
‘Damn it, ‘Cisco!’ General José Urrea said irritably, stalking past his Paymaster towards the table in the center of his sitting room. He gestured towards the dispatch box that Alvarez had placed on it. ‘I don’t see why whatever it is can t wai—’
Slipping the spear-pointed, razor sharp knife which he had used to murder Captain Seguin from its place of concealment up his left sleeve, the major thrust it deftly, almost hilt deep into the kidney region of his superior’s back. The annoyed tirade ended as the pain of the completely unexpected attack tore through Urrea. Surprise, shock and anger warred with the agony that was distorting his face as his legs buckled and he crumpled dying to the floor. The searing torment that assailed him rendered him incapable of movement, and unable to cry out. Not that shouting would have helped. Before making his visit, Alvarez had ensured there was nobody else in that portion of the hacienda. Even the pretty serving woman with whom the General had been spending an afternoon of dalliance had been ordered by the Paymaster to return to the kitchen.
‘No,’ Alvarez answered, in a mocking tone, as he rolled the dying man over. ‘And you never will.’
Having been called from his bed, the General had not troubled to don more than a shirt and a pair of trousers. There was a thin gold chain, from which a key was suspended, around his neck. When Alvarez reached towards it, Urrea made a feeble attempt to grab him. Showing no more hesitation or emotion than if he was butchering a pig, the Paymaster slit his all but helpless victim’s throat. Ignoring the blood flooding from the hideous wound, he grasped and jerked the key free.
Turning away from the body, Alvarez crossed to a window and looked out. He saw the corporal riding into the infantry camp and let out a low curse. Waiting for Urrea to dismiss the serving woman had delayed the Paymaster longer than he had anticipated. He had wanted his business completed so that he was ready to leave as soon as the fighting broke out between the two regiments. However, he took some satisfaction from the sight. Clearly there had been no hitch in Beatriz’s part of the scheme. Now it was up to him to conclude his work so that they could be on their way as quickly as possible.
Striding to the table, he laid down the blood-smeared knife and picked up the dispatch box. He hurried to one of the room’s three doors, entering what he knew was Urrea’s bedroom. Going to the cupboard which ran along one side, he opened its door. Unlocking the massive strong box that was inside, he flung back the lid. Before removing any of the contents, he took a double-barreled, percussion-fired pistol which had been part of the loot at Goliad from the dispatch case. Remembering what had happened during the interview with ‘Smithers’ that morning, he cocked back both hammers and placed the weapon close at hand on the floor.
Lifting a set of bulky saddlebags from the strong box, he set them down near the pistol. Then he started to transfer as much as he could of the jewelry and money from the strong box into the otherwise empty dispatch case. Once he stopped, thinking he heard a noise in the other room. His hand went to the butt of the pistol, but nothing happened to cause him further alarm. Deciding that the sound had been caused by Urrea, he went on with his looting. As he could not take all the contents of the strong box, he selected only the best. With the case filled, he closed its lid. Slinging the saddlebags over his shoulder, he tucked the case under his left arm and, with the pistol in his right hand, he took his departure.
A thought struck Alvarez as he returned to the sitting room. When making his deal for an escort, an advance payment had been stipulated. While he felt sure that his wife could keep the gringos amicable, he did not consider it advisable to let ‘Smithers’ know just how much United States currency he had in his possession.
Setting his burdens on the table, Alvarez opened one of the saddlebags and started to count out the required five hundred dollars. As he was doing so, he noticed that the main door was slightly ajar. The sight gave him a sensation similar to an ice-cold hand touching his spine. Although he had not turned the key, he clearly remembered closing the door after sending the serving woman downstairs.
Even as the Paymaster started to consider the disturbing implications of his discovery, he heard the third door opening. Releasing the saddlebag, so that it fell and spilled a quantity of its contents on to the table, he snatched up his pistol. Lining it at the door, he let out a low and startled exclamation. ‘Smithers’ was stepping out of the suite’s second bedroom.
‘I thought you’d come up here,’ Ole Devil remarked, wishing that he had taken the precaution of entering with the Manton held ready for use. Yet he realized that by coming out empty handed he might have saved himself from being shot on sight.
‘You thought—?’ the Paymaster began.
‘Certainly,’ Ole Devil went on, advancing a step and talking in the hope that he might distract Alvarez for long enough to take some more positive action. ‘Even if he let you rob him, you couldn’t chance leaving Urrea alive. He’d come after you with every man he could get. What’s more, with him dead, Santa Anna would be satisfied and wouldn’t bother to try and capture somebody as harmless as you’ve always pretended to be. I came to see if you needed any help, but went into the wrong room.’
‘That’s an easy mistake to have made,’ Alvarez admitted, noticing the way in which the gringo was looking at the money that had come from the open saddlebag.
Something in the Paymaster’s tone brought Ole Devil’s gaze from the table. What he read on the normally aesthetic face warned him that he was in great danger. Their eyes met and, as plainly as if the other had put the sentiment into words, Alvarez’s expression said, ‘So you’ve seen this money. Now I’ll have to kill you.’
Knowing that he had no other choice, Ole Devil decided to gamble on diving aside in an attempt to avoid being shot. With the pistol’s twin muzzles lined by a very steady hand at the center of his chest, it was indeed a pitifully forlorn hope. At the first hint of movement he gave, Alvarez would complete the pressure on the trigger and liberate the hammer. Even if the first shot missed, there was a second barrel instantly available.
Watching the young Texian like a hawk, Alvarez made a correct guess at the thoughts which were passing through his head. With his right forefinger starting to tighten on the trigger, the Paymaster was alert and ready to counter whatever evasive action might be contemplated.
The room’s main door began to open and the barrel of a pistol came into view!
Alvarez saw the movement and the weapon from the corner of his eye!
So did Ole Devil!
There was one difference. The Texian knew that, no matter who might be entering, it would not be one of his friends.
Although Ole Devil did not know how Alvarez intended to ensure their unimpeded departure, he had surmised that the hostility between the two regiments might be utilized in some way to create the necessary diversion. On commenting to the Paymaster about Beatriz’s absence from the stable, he had been informed that she was still in their suite completing the last of the packing. Then, shortly after Alvarez had left, supposedly to collect her, her maid had arrived to ask if she had returned from the ride she had taken.
Still unaware of the exact plot, Ole Devil had guessed what had taken the Paymaster to the hacienda. So he had told his companions to remain with the horses while he went to investigate. He was confident that neither would go against his orders.
‘Get him, Cousin Mylo!’ Ole Devil yelled in his native tongue and dived to his left as he was speaking.
To give Alvarez credit, he responded with the speed of a striking diamondback rattlesnake. He also reacted as Ole Devil had hoped he would.
Speaking sufficient English to understand the Texian’s meaning, the Paymaster concluded that the second gringo posed the greater and more immediate threat. Around snapped the twin barreled pistol, lining towards the point where Alvarez estimated the person holding the other weapon would be. Flame and white smoke erupted from the right hand muzzle and the expelled bullet ripped a hole in the thin paneling of the door.
There was a cry of pain, proving that Alvarez had been correct—and lucky—in his aim. However, in the stress of the moment, he failed to notice that the cry had been feminine rather than masculine in timbre. Nor did he take any notice of the thud made by a body falling to the floor of the passage outside the room. He was too busy continuing with his plan to deal with ‘Smithers’.
Going down, Ole Devil reached for and twisted free his pistol. He was moving with all possible speed, but knew it would be a very, very, close thing. Even as he hit the thick carpet and was turning the Manton forward, the Paymaster’s weapon was swinging in his direction.
Jolted by his landing, although the thick covering over the boards of the floor reduced the force somewhat, Ole Devil kept a tight grip on the Manton’s butt and, having used his left hand to cock the hammer, clamped it firmly on top of his right wrist for added security. There was no time to take a formal aim, so he looked along the barrel with both eyes open. Waiting until the weapon was partially concealing Alvarez’s rage distorted face, forcing himself to ignore the ever increasing menace of the others still potentially dangerous pistol, he squeezed the trigger.
Conscious of the Texian’s weapon pointing at him, the Paymaster was also taking sight and making ready to shoot.
Two lives were hanging in a very delicate balance!
The State of Texas—as it eventually became—had good cause to be grateful to Joséph ‘Old Joe’ Manton of London, England, that day. Such was his skilled craftsmanship that the superior mechanism of the pistol he had manufactured gave it a fractionally lighter trigger pull than the more cumbersome double-barreled weapon. So the Manton spoke first.
Rising at an angle from the muzzle of Ole Devil’s pistol, the bullet connected with the center of Alvarez’s forehead. It arrived just—and only just—in time. Lined accurately and with its trigger on the point of disengaging the hammer, the impact caused him to flinch and slightly turn his weapon.
Alvarez’s lead came so close that it almost grazed Ole Devil’s forehead and he felt the dust it kicked up from the carpet strike his cheek. Peering through the swirling powder’s smoke, he saw the Paymaster pitching backwards.
Coming to his feet, with his left hand flashing to the bowie knife’s hilt, Ole Devil looked to where Alvarez was sprawled supine. One glance told the Texian he had nothing further to fear from that source. Returning the pistol to its belt loop, he darted to the table. Listening for the first sounds which would warn him that the shooting had been heard and people were coming to investigate, he swept the coins back into the pouch. Still moving with haste, he closed and fastened the flap, then swung the saddlebags across his left shoulder. Picking up the dispatch box, he went to the door.
All was silent.
Ole Devil learned later that the whole of the domestic staff had been drawn from the house by the sound of fighting. As Urrea’s suite was at the front of the building, the noise of the shooting had not carried to the rear.
On stepping cautiously into the passage, the Texian discovered the identity of his inadvertent savior.
It was Beatriz Alvarez!
Coming to investigate the delay she had heard her husband and Ole Devil talking. She had tiptoed to the door with the intention of taking the latter by surprise. Instead of helping Alvarez, she had caused his and her own deaths. The Paymasters bullet had lost little of its momentum while puncturing a way through the paneling of the door. Striking her under the right eye, it had still had sufficient impetus to range onwards and burst out of the top of her head.
Any remorse that Ole Devil might otherwise have experienced at having been the unwitting cause of the woman’s death was lessened by the knowledge that she would not have hesitated to contribute to his own demise. Hurrying downstairs, he went through the deserted building and left by the rear door. At first he was alarmed by the sounds of fighting which came to his ears. Then, realizing that his own party could not be responsible for such a volume of noise, he guessed it was caused by the diversion Alvarez had arranged.
Looking worried, Mannen Blaze and Tommy Okasi were standing just inside the open doors of the stables holding the horses. Alvarez’s sergeant and corporal had stayed clear of the fighting and had rejoined the other two enlisted men. Although they were staring at the back wall, they turned their attention to Ole Devil as he was approaching.
‘Here, you four!’ the Texian barked. ‘Go up to the major’s quarters and fetch the last of his baggage.’
For a moment, the quartet hesitated. Then the sergeant gave an order and they went towards the hacienda.
‘Mount up,’ Ole Devil told his companions. ‘Our work’s finished here.’
Five minutes later, while fighting was still raging between the remnants of the Tamaulipa Lancers and the ‘Landero’ Line Infantry Battalion, the three young men were riding north on the first stage of their journey back to Texas.