“Would you really kill my brother?” asked Rosalita.
They were camped for the afternoon in a brush-filled dry wash fanning out into the Chihuahua desert from the tawny eastern foothills of the Sierra. A broad, flat playa lay to their east and it would have been suicidal to try to cross it in daylight. If nobody spotted them out on the flats the desert sun promised to hit them almost as hard as Yaqui or Rurales. Gaston had said their goal was a desert town on the far side of the playa. Their plan was to cross an hour or so after sunset, once the hard-baked, salty desert pavement cooled down a bit.
Captain Gringo hadn’t answered her question, so Rosalita repeated it. He and the girl were sharing a canteen and some dry tortillas in the shade of a mesquite grove. The bruises on the girl’s face were fading and she was beautiful in the dappled light, if you liked ’em young and at least half Indian. The Indian part didn’t worry him, but her age, and her brother, did. Glancing up the wash to where Tico was out of sight on lookout, with Gaston covering around the bend to the east, he shrugged and said, “Perhaps we were both showing off for a pretty girl.”
“Pooh. He is my brother. Why should he show off for me?
“Chiquita, if I could tell you why men do half the silly things they do I wouldn’t be here. I’d be cruising in my yacht off Long Island. I guess he’s just young. As I remember, it hurts to be a kid.”
“Are you trying to provoke him because of me? You do not have to kill my brother if you wish to take advantage of me. If you want me that badly, I think it would be best if I accommodated you without telling him of the insult to our family. To save my brother I would sin again most willingly.”
He said, “I’m not going to kill your brother and I’m not going to take advantage of you. I’m going to have a smoke.”
Suiting action to his words, Captain Gringo fished a tobacco pouch and a packet of brown papers from his shirt pocket and proceeded to roll a cigarette. The girl stared thoughtfully at his tanned fingers as they worked and asked, with a slight pout, “Is it because of what that Rurale did to me that you find me repulsive?”
“You’re not repulsive. You’re very pretty and I’m tired of repeating myself.”
“But you just said you didn’t want me. I am not as ignorant as you may think. I have heard the older women talk of these matters. I know some men have delicate feelings about making love to a woman who has been perverse with another man.”
“Rosalita, if I didn’t know it would be taken the wrong way I’d give you a good spanking. You two kids are turning out to be real brats.”
He saw the puzzled hurt in her limpid doe eyes and added, “Tico knows Gaston and me are older and smarter. You know any man with normal appetites would want you. You both know why he has to take orders and you have to keep your knees together, too. So let’s stop this childish testing. Leaving aside the man who mistreated you, you know damned well every man in your village would have given a month’s pay to get in your pantaloons.”
“I never wore pantaloons when I was a good girl. Tico made me put these pants on before we joined you because he said it was better to ride astride if one would take to the horseback life of the mountains.”
She frowned and added, “Will you tell me something a good girl would be unable to ask a man? This wearing of pants feels very, well, constant, between one’s legs. I have been puzzled how men can wear them all the time without thinking more about their private parts than most women in skirts have to.”
He laughed and confided, “I guess men do. Though you’re the one who’s having most of the carnal notions around here. As long as you’re so interested in the facts of life, Rosalita, I’m going to risk a duel to explain some things to you, and then I want to hear no more about your groin. If you want to know just where you stand with me, or even Gaston, there’s no doubt we’d both like to make love to you. You’re a beautiful girl and we’re both in good health. Neither of us are repelled by something that wasn’t your fault and, in any case, didn’t do you any obvious permanent damage. So stop batting those pretty lashes and fishing for compliments. It’s agreed you’re lovely. It’s also agreed neither Gaston nor I have any intention of taking you up on some half-baked offers you’re probably more confused about than we are.”
“Did you agree to some sort of pact with the Frenchman about me?”
“No. There was no need to discuss the matter,” he lied, adding, “Gaston is an adult. Grown men have as many desires or more than children, but by the time They’re old enough to vote they should have learned too much chocolate will rot your teeth, too much liquor will make you crazy, and chasing every skirt can get you killed.”
“The older women said a real man took what he wanted. They said—”
“I know what they said. That’s why they were all so rich and wore all those diamonds, too. You people down here are hard to understand. You put up with every tinhorn dictator and settle for tortillas and beans, yet you worry more about your crazy ideas of honor and kill one another over trifles. Maybe if the older women encouraged less machismo and admired brains instead of muscle they’d get to wear shoes!”
“You have contempt for my people as well as me! I know I am a fallen woman, but what have my people ever done to you?”
“Half of the Mexicans I’ve met so far have tried to get me killed. Nobody down here’s done me any favors, but I don’t dislike your people, Rosalita. I only wish they weren’t so dramatic.”
He lit his smoke and got to his feet, saying, “I’m going to relieve Gaston on lookout. Do us all a favor and don’t ask him why he hasn’t tried to rape you. With luck, we’ll be in Vegas Salinas by this time tomorrow and you can go to confession and ask the priest if he finds you unattractive.”
Ignoring her angry retort, Captain Gringo walked around the tethered horses and the bend of the wash to join Gaston. The Frenchman was hunkered down by the machine gun in the shade of a twisted mesquite The tall American stared out across the shimmering expanse of nothing much to the east and said, “I don’t think even those kids could get lost out there at night, do you?”
“Not if either can walk a straight line. I take it m’sieu is considering our deserting them?”
“That Rosalita is turning out to be a really dangerous little bundle. We’ve gotten them safely over the Sierras, and from here on gratitude seems to be all downhill. I thought I’d tell Tico it was time we split up and we’d go our separate ways.”
Gaston spit out the husk of the mesquite pod he’d been chewing and shook his head, saying, “That is not wise, m’sieu. If you think he’s ever going to get up the courage to go for you, your best bet would be to kill him here and now. Even in Vegas Salinas there is a tendency to ask tedious questions when one kills a man, but out here—”
“Damn it, I have no intention of hurting either of those kids.”
“Ah, but I have been watching Tico and he has every intention of killing both you and me. As for your own fate, that is your own business. However, I am not quite ready to die. So if you don’t want to kill him, just leave the matter to me.”
“I don’t want you to kill him, either, and I’ll take it personal if you do. I know the kid’s getting more sullen by the minute, but … What in the hell do you think is wrong with him, Gaston?”
“Merde, I don’t think, I know. His sister was raped. You and I know she was raped. Ergo, if they intend to make a new life in another part of Mexico, their shame must be wiped out completely.”
“Shit, their whole village knows the girl was raped!”
“Ah, but their village is far away. You and I are on this side of the Sierras, and Vegas Salinas is a small town.”
Captain Gringo took a drag on his smoke, let it slowly out as he thought, and said, “In other words, if he’s going to make his move, it will be tonight, out there on the playa.”
It was a statement, not a question, but Gaston nodded and said, “Yes, that is why I suggest we finish him here and now. We both know he will fail, since there are two of us, we’re both better fighters, and we will be expecting it. But a firelight at night on horseback is very fatiguing, and one of us, or the ponies, might catch a stray bullet. The girl would be safer is we simply ended it neatly,’ too. Since they’d be riding between us across the playa in the moonlight, she’d be in his line of fire when he went for at least one of us and we, of course, would be sending a lot of rounds in her general direction.”
“Maybe if I tried once more to talk some sense to him—”
“And throw away your edge? The little bastard’s paying us back for our help by planning to murder us! I hardly think we owe him any favors!”
“Murder is the word I was groping for. I can’t just shoot a seventeen-year-old boy down in cold blood.”
“Such sentiment does you dubious credit. I said I’d do it. Where is he now, up on the other lookout?”
The American knew his newfound comrade made sense, but he knew he had to look at himself in the mirror the next time he shaved, too. So he shook his head and said, “There must be a better way. Maybe if we simply ditched them without warning. We could suddenly mount up and ride out, leaving them here on foot. They could walk across the playa to the next town in one night.”
“Certainly. Then, when he got to Vegas Salinas, Tico could start looking for you, and as I said, it’s a very small town. A gunfight of his choice and timing might prove amusing if you saw him first, but the resulting explanations to the alcalde might prove tedious.”
“What if we bypassed Vegas Salinas and went someplace else?”
“Merde alors! I told you we’re going there to rejoin my battalion. Besides, there is no someplace else. Vegas Salinas is a rebel stronghold because it’s miles from anywhere, surrounded by desert. If you rode on without me you might make it to Ciudad Chihuahua before you ran out of water. But there you would find Rurales waiting to discuss your red hair and blue eyes with you. As for me, since I’d be in Vegas Salinas when the boy walked in, most annoyed, I’d have to shoot him in any case and all your quixotic nonsense would lead to nowhere.”
He grinned and added, “By the way, your hair is getting blond at the roots. A suspicious Rurale might let an ordinary foreigner pass without comment, but really, a gringo who’s obviously dyed his hair for some mysterious reason?”
“You don’t give a fellow much choice, do you? I’m still for letting him live, if I can figure something out. For one thing, if we kill him the girl’s bound to make a fuss about it in Vegas Salinas.”
“I know. We’d better kill her, too.”
So there it was, like a bucket of vomit out in the open and drawing flies. Everything the little Frenchman said made a heap of ugly sense.
He’d gotten himself into one mess after the other by trying to be a nice guy and it was time he started looking out for his own ass, but—
As if he’d known they were plotting against them, Tico suddenly came running around the bend, gun in hand! As both of them stiffened and slapped leather the boy shouted, “Riders! Four of them! Heading this way from the foothills!”
Gaston reached for the machine gun but Captain Gringo said, “No time, and we have the firepower for four without it! Where’s Rosalita, Tico?”
“I told her to stay with the horses and calm them if there was shooting, Captain Gringo!”
By now all three of them were running back up the draw, and as they passed Rosalita, Captain Gringo saw the girl had cupped her palm over the nostrils of that one roan mare who tended to whinnie. He called, “Good girl! Make sure those reins are secure!” and then they’d left her behind and reached a western bend in the bank where Tico had been on lookout.
The tall American leaned against the dry clay bank and cautiously peered over, his eyes at ground level to the four horsemen riding their way, about a quarter mile out. Gaston joined him and murmured, “Not Yaqui, not Rurales. I’d say, from the charro outfits and crossed bandoliers, that they’re bandits.”
“Maybe some of your bandit friends from Vegas Salinas?”
“No. Leaving aside the distinctions between the liberation movement and simple thieves, they would be wearing red armbands if they were part of my battalion with any honest business in these parts. I’d say, like us, that they came over the Sierras to avoid the Rurales. Our activities on the far slope have doubtless made thing hotter than usual over there.”
“What’s the form, then? Do we parley or shoot?”
“Zut, a discussion with strange bandits when one has a woman, six horses, and a machine gun under consideration? I’ll take the two to our left. You pick off the ones to the right. Remember: You shoot first at the horses, then finish them as they’re trying to rise.”
“I know how it’s done. But what if they’re simply four innocent cowhands?”
“What indeed? We live in unjust times. Tico, where are you? We need three guns here and … Sacre!”
A bullet slammed into the clay near Captain Gringo’s floating rib as Gaston fired his rifle at his other side! The American didn’t look behind him to see what was happening, the four men out on the desert had reined in and were pulling their saddle carbines out, so he held his revolver in both hands and started shooting.
He hit all four ponies with his first four shots. After that it got more complicated. As the ponies went down in clouds of dust he picked off one of the grounded riders as the bandit started to stand up. His sixth and last shot missed as his intended target rolled cleverly. This left him facing three armed men with an empty revolver, and two of them were already returning his fire, aiming at the haze of gunsmoke above his head. He ducked below the rim of the wash as Gaston threw his more accurate Krag over the rim, a few paces away, and opened up. Captain Gringo squatted, with his back to the bank, and started to reload. That’s when he first saw Tico.
The boy lay spread-eagled on his back, staring open mouthed at the sky with a patch of wet red in the dead center of his thin, cotton-clad chest. The Krag he’d fired lay across his shins. The American thumbed the sixth fresh round into his Colt and holstered it as he rolled to his feet, ran over to the corpse, and scooped up the rifle.
He worked the bolt to reload the chamber and ran back to flop against the bank six yards from Gaston as the Frenchman fired again and laughed, “Voila! That will teach you to keep the derriere down when crawling through the bushes, my foolish friend!”
Captain Gringo shoved the rifle over the brim and stared out at the drifting clouds of mustard-colored dust, asking, “How many to go?”
Gaston said, “I think I just picked off the last one. Behind that clump of cactus near the spotted pony. He was most unskilled at cover and now he has the broken spine from showing me his ass.”
“I noticed you were a good shot. Rosalita’s going to have a fit.”
“These things happen in a fight with bandits. You are aware, of course, her brother died most gallantly as he tried to help us fight them. Don’t you remember me telling him not to expose himself to their fire so bravely?”
“Yah, it’s all coming back to me now. I owe you, Gaston. How did you know he was fixing to gun me?”
“I didn’t. Fortunately, I wondered why he was hanging back, so I looked. He probably thought he’d never get a better chance.”
“Poor dumb little shit! What did he think he was going to do about those others without our help?”
“I thought it was agreed the boy was not very bright. But the problem seems to have solved itself. Eh bien, I see we have company from above.”
The American looked up in time to see a formation of vultures spiraling in for a landing. One of the ugly birds settled on the rump of the dead spotted pony, folded its shabby wings, and began to explore the dead animal’s rectum with its wickedly curved beak. As others settled down to feed, Gaston said, “I like vultures. So many men have died moving in too quickly to make certain of a fallen enemy. Let’s give them a few minutes, then see what valuables we may have earned from our honest toil.”
“We’d better do something about Tico, before they start on him.”
“He’ll keep. The vultures never land this close to anything living. That is why they cheer me so out there.”
There was a long shrill scream behind them and the American turned to see Rosalita running toward them, her eyes fixed on her fallen brother. Leaving the rifle in place, he ran to intercept her and wrapped her in his arms before she could throw herself down on Tico’s corpse. He soothed, “Easy, easy, kitten! I’m sorry. Sorry as hell.”
“What happened?” she sobbed. “I heard the shooting, and when it stopped I … Is he really dead?”
“I’m afraid so, querida. I know it’s small comfort, but he fought like a hero. He fired the very first shot and, well, at least he never knew what hit him.”
Everything he said was true, of course. Yet he couldn’t help feeling a little shitty about the whole thing.