Call Down The Hawk

by Richard Folmar

  “Just tell that man to keep his hands off that child.”

  The Colonel looked grim. “Need I remind you, this is not Texas? This is Mexico and you all are prisoners of the Army of Emiliano Zapata, the army of the people. You do not give orders here.”

  “And does the Army of Zapata rape children?”

  Frowning, the Colonel replied, “She is not a child. Her body is ripe to know a man, and …” He held up his hand to stay the heated retort forming in Seth’s mouth. “She is one of the accursed Spanish Hacendados who have sliced the skin from the backs of my people with their whips and raped at will our wives and young daughters for their lustful pleasure—yes, and hanged their husbands, fathers and brothers when they have dared to protest.”

  “But damn it, Colonel.”

  “So what is this spoiled aristocratic bitch worth, or even this fat old Duenna here, when it comes to the needs of one of my brave soldados who may be dead tomorrow?”

  “So what’s the difference in your brave soldiers and the hacendados or federal soldiers in the way you treat the people?”

  The Colonel shook his head. “I have not the time to explain our cause or our grievances against the butcher Huerta and his illegal government. But, I have one bit of advice for you and your friend, Seth Cane. Keep your Gringo noses out of my country. Go back home as soon as you can make passage. If you stay, you may have great cause to be sorry”

  Seth’s anger could not obscure the sudden notion thatthere was something about this man’s face that was familiar. He had the feeling that he had once known him somewhere. But where in—then he knew. “It’s been a long time, hasn’t it, Jose Cedillo? We were just boys then.”

  The Colonel started, and seemed to debate whether or not to acknowledge Seth’s recognition. Then he nodded, “Yes, but not long enough for me to forget how you saved me from your father’s hangman.”

  “My father could be harsh when it came to dealing with horse thieves.”

  Colonel Cedillo’s features grew hard. “I was but a boy, the same age as you. Homesick, I wanted to get home. Those three horses were next to worthless. Your father was going to shoot them anyway.”

  “The point is, they were his and anyone who stole from him could meet a cruel fate. I didn’t agree with him. That’s why I let you escape.”

  “Your father is no different from the hacendados who use the whips upon the backs of my people…”

  “Wal, Colonel,” Hand spoke up. “For letting you escape, Seth here still bears the scars on his back from the whipping ordered by his father for letting you escape.”

  The Colonel stared at Seth in surprise. “You bear the scars from your father’s whip?”

  “I do.”

  “Your father is a cruel man—to whip his own son.”

  “My father is dead.”

  The Zapatista Colonel took a deep breath. “For that I am glad. He was evil and may he burn in the fires of hell.”

  “Colonel Cedillo, what are you going to do with us?” Seth asked.

  The Colonel looked around the coach at the passengers. “The old lady, your big friend here and yourself, I will leave on the train to continue your journey.”

  “And the girl and those two?” Seth asked, indicating Maury and the Federalist Colonel.

  “The girl comes with us. It is time she learned to contribute something to the Revolution. Those two,” he indicated Maury and the Federal Colonel, “are enemies of the Revolution. They will be executed along with the other federalist soldiers we have taken off the train”

  “Just one dang minute!” Hand shouted, starting toward Cedillo, but stopped when the scar-faced rebel with a vicious grin leveled his rifle at him.

  For the first time since the seizure of the train, Seth felt rising incredulity and alarm. Somehow, he had thought Cedillo, the man grown from the boy he had saved from hanging, could not be responsible for such barbarity.

  “Colonel, you can’t be serious. Mr. O’Bannion is a citizen of the United States and has nothing to do with your revolution. As I told you, he merely represents oil interests seeking concessions in Mexico. As for the girl, you can’t take that child for the pleasure of your men.”

  At that moment a rebel soldier entered the car, pushing the terrified conductor before him. Cedillo looked at them questioningly. The soldier spoke rapidly but Seth was able to pick up on the main parts of the dialect from southern Mexico. “This dog trying to save his worthless life said that because the train didn’t arrive at San Andres on schedule, the troop trains at Esperanza will be coming most fast toward us.”

  The Colonel nodded calmly. “Tell Lieutenant Baca to hurry up with the unloading of supplies and proceed with the executions. We must be moving out. Leave the Cobrador here.” Looking at Seth, he smiled grimly and said, “You understand what I said, is that not so, Seth Cane?”

  “Yes, most of it.”

  “So you plead for the life of this O’Bannion?”

  “And for the girl”

  “Well, for what I owe you, Seth Cane, I will spare O’Bannion.”

  “The girl too?”

  “I cannot do that.”

  “Then take me in her place. Let her go.”

  The Colonel stared at Seth for a long moment and shook his head in a gesture of contempt. “You are a sentimental fool, Senor. That is why you let me escape. You are soft. Why is the body of this Spanish bitch worth as much as your own life?”

  “She is innocent and a child. Come, Colonel, as a highranking officer in the Army of Zapata, I am pleading with you to let her go.”

  Colonel Cedillo snorted in disgust, “Very well, as one last favor to you. But as you Yanques used to say: We are now even steven, Seth Cane. My debt is discharged. Pray you don’t fall into my hands again.” Upon his gesture to his men, Colonel Morales, his face gray with fear, was roughly hauled to his feet by a peasant soldier and pushed out the rear door of the coach. Colonel Cedillo, without another look in Seth’s direction, followed with the rest of his men.

  Outside there was a lot of shouting and barking of orders. The Americans moved to the windows and watched as the draftees were unloaded from the train and marched away to become part of Emiliano Zapata’s rebel army. Colonel Morales and seven other federalist soldiers were lined up against the embankment adjacent to the tracks and a firing squad assembled.

  “My God!” Maury said, his voice rising hysterically. “They really are going to …” At that moment a ragged volley from the firing squad broke in and he concluded, “shoot them.” He looked like he was going to be sick. He grabbed Seth’s arm. “I would have been one of those out there but for you.”

  White faced, Seth stared at the crumpled bodies of the federalist soldiers as the train began to pull away and said bitterly, “It’s part of the cruelty of this kind of war. No quarter given. Hatred dominates on all sides. Make no mistake, gentlemen, we are in the middle of a very brutal civil war.”

  Later, when the train arrived at San Andres, a federal captain and several men came on board to ask some preliminary questions. Seth looked at Hand, a smile forming at the corners of his mouth. “By the way, old buddy, where did you learn Spanish?”

  “Speak the lingo pretty good, don’t I?”

  “Not bad,” Seth conceded. “But you should know that the word excusado means, need the toilet. You told those two Zapatistas back there that you were mucho need the toilet. “Never mind” Seth said. “It probably saved your life”

  39

  IT WAS RAINING AGAIN WHEN their train pulled into Buena Vista Station at 9:00 p.m. that night. Awaiting its arrival was a noisy crowd of reporters from both Mexican and foreign newspapers. Also on the platform were a group of grim-faced Federalist Army officers and a squad of soldiers. The train had barely come to a halt when the officers swarmed on board the coaches, leaving the
soldiers to hold back the collection of newspapermen.

  An athletic looking Colonel banged the door of the first class coach open and grimly approached the few passengers, demanding they show their identities. He frowned over the three Americans’ passports, then singled out Seth for his version of the Zapatista raid.

  Seth recounted the event succinctly without elaboration and the Colonel seemed satisfied. He then turned to question the young Spanish girl and her older female companion. He had been talking with them for but a few minutes, when he suddenly stalked back to Seth, his eyes hard with anger. “That girl said you knew the rebel leader of the Zapatistas, and that you seemed unusually friendly with him. Is that true, Mr. Cane?”

  Seth glanced at the girl . Thanks very much, Senorita. To the Colonel he said, “I knew him only as a young boy who worked on my father’s ranch in Texas. The girl is mistaken. What she assumed to be friendliness was desperation, to prevent her from being taken away by the rebels.”

  “What is that man’s name?”

  “Jose, I knew him as Jose.”

  “No, Senor! What is his family name?”

  Your arrogance is beginning to annoy me Colonel. I feel no obligation to assist you Federals in your civil war. “Jose, that is what we knew him by on the ranch,” Seth said.

  “Mr. Cane, I have not the time, nor inclination to indulge your obvious reluctance to be candid with me. There are thousands of men named Jose in this country. Your information is not only useless, it is obstructive of my investigation. Now, I shall ask you again, what is the family name of that Zapatista scum?”

  “Sorry, Colonel, that is all I can remember.”

  “I do not believe you!” The Colonel shouted. “That girl over there said that you called him Colonel something.”

  “Sorry.”

  “Yes, you will be very sorry, Senor Cane ! Colonel Morales and many of our men were taken off this train and murdered by that man’s orders. You are on the verge of committing a very serious crime against the State for which the punishment is not very nice. Now, I don’t believe you want that. You know the traitorous dog’s name and I order you tell me right now.”

  Am I being stupid and perhaps jeopardizing our mission down here? No, I have no obligation to assist the Federal government in capturing Jose. The shooting on the train of the federal officer and soldiers was a brutal act of the civil war but the two women and Maury had been spared. I’ll be hanged if I want to be the one to identify Colonel Cedillo, especially to you.

  He had opened his mouth to reply, when Maury O’Bannionblurted out, “His name is Cedillo. Colonel Jose Cedillo!” Stunned, Seth whirled around to stare at his former partner.

  “I’m sorry, Seth but he’s not worth getting arrested for. I owe you for saving my life. That bastard was going to shoot me along with that poor Colonel Morales.” Maury, don’t you know that you just confirmed my lying to this federal officer?

  There was no anger in the thought. He had no right to put either Hand or Maury in a position where they might have had to back up his lie. And surely this Colonel would have gone to work on them next.

  The Colonel smiled triumphantly at Maury. “Thank you for your assistance, but I’m still going to arrest this man.”

  “I reckon you won’t,” Hand said, half rising.

  The Colonel glowered at Hand, “And if you interfere again, I shall arrest you too!”

  “Just what are you charging me with, Colonel?” Seth asked.

  “To start with, you are obstructing an official army inquiry by lying to an investigative officer. This is a most serious offense.” He nodded to two soldiers coming down the aisle toward them. “Now, I must insist that you, Mr. O’Bannion and your two friends accompany me to my headquarters.”

  “You are mistaken, Colonel Sanchez. Mr. Cane and members of his party will not accompany you to police headquarters.”

  The man the voice belonged to had entered the coach unobserved. He was about thirty, tall and thin to the point of looking consumptive. His clothes were expensive and formal, a gray cutaway vest and trousers. He wore a black bowler and carried an umbrella on his right arm.

  The officer identified as Colonel Sanchez looked annoyed, but respectful of the newcomer. “Mr. Seyquirt, by what authority do you interfere here?”

  “As you well know, Colonel, I speak for his Excellency the Ambassador of the United States.”

  “That doesn’t confer the authority to interfere with a military investigation. I intend to arrest these two men”

  “May I remind you, Colonel, they are traveling under diplomatic passports. What crime do you intend to charge them with?”

  “The nature of their passports means nothing to me. They have failed to cooperate with my investigation and Mr. Cane has lied to me. The offense should be perfectly clear to you, Senor Diplomatico”

  The newcomer stood poised and self-assured in the face of the growing anger of the army officer.

  “Let me put things in a different perspective, Colonel. Under proper protocol, I am sure they will agree to answer any further questions you may have at the American Embassy. If on the other hand you insist on arresting them now, by the time you get them back to your headquarters there will be a phone call made from my Ambassador to your President Huerta. I need not point out the closeness of their friendship. Is it necessary for me to paint the picture of what will happen then?”

  Apparently not, Seth thought, for Colonel Sanchez, with a furious glare at the Yankees from up north, turned around and stormed out of the coach followed by his men.

  Their deliverer shifted his umbrella to the crook of his left arm and removing a gray glove extended his right hand to Seth. “Allow me, sir, to more appropriately introduce myself. I am Artimus T. Seyquirt, First Secretary at the American Embassy. And, may I assume these two other gentlemen are Mr. Comfort and Mr. O’Bannion?”

  Hand and Maury held out their hands but Artimus S eyquirt, not obliging them, continued talking to Seth. “I am here at the Ambassador’s request to escort you and Mr. Comfort to the Embassy—and you too,” he said looking at Maury. “Mr. O’Bannion, his Excellency is especially desirous of meeting you since he has received numerous letters of introduction from several prominent leaders of the oil industry as well as members of the Senate. Unfortunately, we cannot accommodate you at the Embassy, but we have made a reservation in your name at one of the City’s premier hotels.”

  Seth thought Maury’s grin positively wolfish. “Thank you,” Maury said. “I’m looking forward to meeting with Ambassador Wilson. I think we have a workable proposition that he’s going to like.”

  The First Secretary stared at Maury with a barely perceptible nod.

  “Mr. Seyquirt,” Seth intervened. “Mr. Comfort and I appreciate the Ambassador’s hospitality but we have reservations at Porter’s Hotel which is only a short distance from the American Consulate. We have no wish to intrude upon the embassy’s accommodations.”

  The First Secretary greeted Seth’s protest with a smile.

  “Absolutely out of the question, dear fellow. The Secretary of State has wired the Ambassador to the effect that you and Mr. Comfort be accorded every courtesy during your mission here. Ambassador Wilson would deem it a dereliction of his responsibility if you did not accept the hospitality of the embassy. Forgive me, Mr. Cane, if I were to suggest that to refuse his invitation might be construed as an unfortunate display of inappropriate manners, no matter how unintended.”

  “In that case,” Seth said, “Mr. Comfort and I will be most honored to accept the Ambassador’s invitation.” His smile hid his annoyance. The freedom of the hotel was much preferred over the confining atmosphere of the embassy. He felt guilty in accepting the hospitality of the man he was supposed to be investigating.

  With a snap of his fingers the First Secretary produced two stalwarts
from the embassy to hustle their luggage from the train. Seth had grudging admiration for the way Seyquirt adroitly maneuvered them through the crowd of shouting reporters outside. While they waited for the embassy’s big six-cylinder motor to come to the curb, a wide-eyed paper boy came and held up a copy of the English version of the Mexican Examiner for Seth to read the large black headline. Seth stared in disbelief.

  “AMERICAN SECRETARY OF STATE BRYAN EULOGIZES AMBASSADOR WILSON.” What was that about? Is Bryan playing some kind of game? He sends Hand and me down to find if the Ambassador was implicated in the murder of the former Mexican president and here this paper says he is eulogizing him.

  He tossed the boy a coin, obviously it was too much, as indicated by the delighted expression on the lad’s face. It wasn’t until later in their room at the embassy he had time to read the article in full.

  It was datelined Mexico City as of today’s date. It referred to a telegram sent by Bryan to Henry Lane Wilson commending the Ambassador and Embassy staff for the manner in which they had conducted themselves during the recent critical period in the City of Mexico. The writer of the article went on to suggest that this commendation possibly foreshadowed official approval by the new Washington administration for the continued service of the popular ambassador.

  40

  EARLIER THAT SAME MORNING THE President of the United States was also wondering what had impelled his Secretary of State to commend the Ambassador he would most like to get rid of. The Washington Post had its White House reporter standing outside his office almost as soon as he came down that morning from breakfast. Fortunately, Tumulty had steered the man off saying that the President would not be seeing the press today. Behind the closed door of his office, Wilson learned from Tumulty what the reporter was after.

  “Let me get this correct. You say that reporter told you the Mexican papers are carrying a banner line story that Mr. Bryan sent a telegram to Henry Lane Wilson commending him for his actions during the overthrow of Madero?”