Sundance 20

by Peter McCurtin

  ‘All right,’ he said after they had gone another three miles, ‘put the boots to your horse. Don’t fall behind or it’ll all go wrong.’

  Touching the great stallion lightly with his moccasined feet, Sundance surged ahead. All the magnificent fighting horse needed was the touch of his heels, a soft word of command. As he rode Sundance glanced up at the sky. If they made it to the clumps of ironwoods, it would be very tight. The stallion put out more and more energy as Sundance raced ahead of Jorge. Finally he had to slow his horse to let Jorge catch up.

  ‘The minute we jump down, run your horse ahead on the road. Use your hat, but don’t yell. If the horse spooks and runs back the other way, it’s going to be hell on us. When I pay out the rope, pick it up fast and wind it round a tree trunk. But let me tie my end first. If you reel in too much rope I’ll be left with nothing. You hear?’

  Jorge’s gelding was lathered with sweat and he was gasping for breath himself. After the topped under rise in the road, they could see the lights of the Flowers ranch about two miles ahead. They got closer, with the raiders not so far behind them now, to the stand of trees. And, then for the first time, the raiders were close enough to open fire.

  Sundance swung down from the saddle and landed on his feet while the stallion was still moving at a gallop. He had his rifle and the rope in one hand. As soon as his feet hit the sand at the side of the road, he ran to the closest ironwood and wound the rope around the slender trunk and made it fast with a hitch that wouldn’t slip. Then he pitched the other end of rope over to Jorge, who grabbed it quickly and began to wind. When that was done, Sundance called out, ‘Move back—away from the road!’

  The raiders came on, a mass of men without faces in the semidarkness. The last of the light glistened on a big sombrero with silver all over it. The man in the silver hat hit the rope first. He pitched over his horse’s head and lay still in the road while the animal whinnied in terror and fell. Soon the road was a frenzy of wildly-plunging horses and cursing men. The rope broke, but it didn’t make any difference now. Sundance opened fire a fraction of second before Jorge. He shot a man and shot him again when he tried to get up. Then he swung the Winchester and killed a rider who had managed to stay on his horse. From across the road Jorge was sending out a steady stream of rifle bullets, hosing the road with lead. Jorge killed another man. Sundance shot a man in the back who had broken loose without being hit and was running into the darkness. A man behind a dying horse shot back and got off three quick shots before Sundance and Jorge riddled him from both sides. Suddenly it was dark and there was no movement in the road.

  Sundance walked out carefully and heard somebody crawling in the sand in the dark. He aimed at the sound and fired. The man grunted and died. ‘Stay where you are,’ Sundance ordered Jorge. ‘Our friend with the silver hat hasn’t been heard from. I think he’s still out cold.’ He was edging through the darkness when a pistol roared and flamed from nowhere. He felt a hammer blow on the side of his head, and even while he was falling, he heard the louder explosion of Jorge’s rifle. Jorge yelled with wild rage and fired again. Then while Sundance felt the trickle of his own blood, he heard a scream that knifed through the sudden silence of the night—he knew what Jorge was doing.

  Sundance untied his neckerchief and whistled for the stallion to come up. The big horse whinnied nervously at the smell of so much blood, so much fear. ‘Easy horse! Easy now!’ Sundance said, unstoppering a canteen, soaking the neckerchief with water and holding it to the side of his head. The wound stung at first and it continued to throb after he wound the neckerchief tightly around his head. He walked over to where Jorge knelt beside the dead man with the knife in his hand. Jorge was sobbing.

  Sundance clapped his friend on the shoulder. ‘You had to go and do it. Now you know what it’s like. I told you to put that goddamned knife away.’

  Jorge wiped the bloody blade on the dead man’s shirt and stood up. His voice was shrill and defiant. ‘He deserved it, the murdering animal. They all did.’

  Sundance’s voice was flat and final. ‘Then go to it. They won’t feel it, but if it makes you feel better. If you enjoy it—’

  Jorge began to curse. ‘The hell with you!’ Then he pitched the knife into the darkness.

  ‘That was a dumb thing to do, throw away a good knife. But we won’t try to look for it.’ Sundance pushed Jorge toward his horse who was coming back, still sweating badly. ‘Get hold of yourself. What you did is done and you can’t undo it. If the thought of what you did makes you sick to your stomach, don’t try to say you did it because of what he did to those girls. Face up to the savage—yes, dirty—side of your nature.’

  The front door of the Flowers house had swung open during the ambush. It was still open. ‘Let’s get out of here,’ Sundance said. ‘Flowers can have what satisfaction there is in looking at these men in the morning.’

  As they passed the house, they could see the father of the murdered girls outlined in the doorway. There was no way he could see them. They started up and over the long slope that would take them back to Las Piedras.

  ‘Ease up on that animal,’ Sundance ordered Jorge. ‘No need to hurry now. We want to arrive back in town with nice cooled-off mounts.’ There was a long silence. ‘How are you feeling?’

  ‘Sick, like you said.’

  ‘You’ll get over it.’

  ‘I used to peel apples with that knife and cut the ends off cigars before the doctor stopped me from smoking.’ Sundance saw no reason to make such a fuss about it. ‘You’ll have to buy another knife.’

  ‘I don’t want to talk about it.’

  ‘What do you want to talk about, if anything?’

  ‘Bannerman.’

  ‘You mean he won’t like this. That’s the idea for him not to like it. I figured it was just possible that he might back off after we did for all those men on the mesa. There was his chance to get out of the game with some chips. But, no, he went right ahead and got worse. I wonder how he’s going to feel when the war minister goes after Colonel Almirante.’

  ‘You think your general has that much influence with Minister Fimbres?’

  ‘As much as he needs. Crook and Fimbres have been good friends since the war minister was attached to the general’s staff as a foreign observer during the Civil War. Colonel Almirante will think a rockslide fell on him.’

  They were in sight of the lights of Las Piedras. To the southwest of the town was the sprawl of Bannerman’s rancheria, with its red-roofed building that sprawled over more than an acre. Men with rifles stood guard night and day among the lemon trees, behind the thick abode. Cajun, the deadly Louisiana gunman was there. So were the other pistoleros, and always the Apaches, cruelest fighters on earth. Yes, Sundance thought, a fortress.

  ‘What about Bannerman’s political friends?’ Jorge asked. ‘What do you think will happen there?’

  ‘Hard to say. We’re a long way from Mexico City. Almirante has to obey the war minister’s orders or get out. The politicians—a judge like Colomo—isn’t under such control. No way to say what Bannerman will do. A man like that doesn’t know how to bend, to cut his losses. As I see it, this rancheria, the mines and the rest of it, are what he thinks of as his last chance to build a private empire. Other Southerns managed to get over the war—never a stubborn, arrogant man like Bannerman. Nothing matters to him. I don’t know that he even considers—thinks about—the destruction and terror he’s brought about. No matter what happens, he’ll go down fighting. Right or wrong, muleheaded pride is the word for it.’

  Next morning they were eating the breakfast they never got tired of, pan-fried steak and black coffee, when the rattle of many hoofs started down the narrow street. Sundance put down his cup and picked up the Greener 10-gauge and checked the double loads of buckshot.

  Going to the window and moving the stack of law books, Sundance said, ‘It could be Bannerman,’ but when he turned he smiled and put down the scattergun.

  Jorge was always sour
so early in the morning. ‘What the hell are you grinning at?’

  Sundance said, ‘I guess Colonel Almirante is about to pay us a visit. See for yourself.’

  Jorge looked down at the colonel seated in a glistening black carriage pulled by four white horses. On all sides of the carriage were cavalrymen with tasseled sabers. Their horses were all black—black and glossy like the colonel's carriage. While they watched the driver got down from the seat and rushed to open the door for the colonel. There were two drivers; the other driver remained on the box with his arms folded, looking straight ahead.

  ‘What the hell is going on?’ Jorge asked.

  ‘A demonstration of the power of the telegraph. Some man many hundreds of miles away taps a key and fat colonels run around looking scared.’

  ‘I don’t believe it. The colonel is coming up the stairs. The fat swine is coming up my stairs.’

  ‘Then open the door.’

  ‘No, let him knock and ask to be allowed to enter.’

  ‘Damn it, Jorge, open the door. You’ve got to let the colonel save face. Not being any kind of Indian you wouldn’t understand that, would you.’

  ‘That’s right. Almirante is the son of a bitch who framed you into that guardhouse.’

  ‘It doesn’t matter. Open the door. Don’t act crazy even if you are—open the door.’

  Jorge shook his head and stuck out his jaw. ‘Absolutely not. Let him knock, then I’ll decide.’

  Sundance went back and began to eat the rest of his fast-cooling steak. Colonel or no colonel, he was hungry.

  Knuckles rapped on the door. ‘Señor Calderon, this is Colonel Almirante,’ a voice said. ‘I wish to speak with you. I bring greetings from a friend of a friend of Señor Sundance.’

  Jorge unbolted the door and, in spite of himself, Colonel Almirante looked with quickly hidden disdain at the cluttered little room, the unmade bed, the unwashed cooking utensils. The air was bad, Sundance knew. He didn’t like it either. Jorge pointed to the only chair in the room and said the colonel should sit down. The colonel said he would prefer to stand.

  ‘Once again, I bring you greetings, my own and those of the war minister, a man for whom I have the highest admiration and respect.’

  Jorge went on with his charade. ‘What can I do for you, Colonel? What do you need that brings you out so early in the day?’

  The colonel’s shaved and powdered jowls shook hastily. ‘Oh, nothing,’ he said. ‘It is I who wish to be of service to you.’

  Jorge nodded. ‘In what way, sir?’

  The colonel spoke quickly. ‘It has come to my attention that you are planning a visit to our illustrious president, Porfirio Diaz. War Minister Fimbres has directed me to render you every service while you are in Las Piedras, but to also offer you an escort of my cavalrymen on your way to the train in Durango. If you wish to have a military escort during your visit to the capital, I am to provide that too.’

  ‘To the railroad will be enough,’ Jorge said coldly.

  ‘Wait a minute,’ Sundance interrupted. ‘There’s no reason why not. Since the colonel is being so kind ...’

  Colonel Almirante, considering his belly, did a fair imitation of a bow. ‘Thank you, Señor Sundance.’

  Jorge said, ‘I don’t want soldiers following me around all the time I’m in Mexico City. I can see an escort to the train, but that’s all.’

  ‘Whatever you say, Señor Calderon. And I hope when you meet the President, you will mention my name.’

  ‘I will if I happen to remember it,’ Jorge said. ‘And how is all this to be arranged?’

  ‘At your discretion, Señor Calderon. When you are ready to leave for your visit, word will be sent to me at the fort. Then I will personally escort you to the railroad at Durango. Until then a squad of guards will be posted in the street downstairs.’

  Sundance cut in. ‘That will be fine, Colonel. I would say Señor Calderon will be leaving in a few days.’

  The colonel inclined his bullet head. ‘Will you be going with him, Señor Sundance?’

  ‘I don’t see why I have to do.’ Sundance made his point, so there would be no mistake. ‘I’m sure the War Minister has confidence in you.’

  ‘Yes, once on the train, Señor Calderon will have a comfortable ride to Mexico City. A fine seat, fine food, good wine.’

  ‘I think some sort of escort ought to go along with him, Colonel. Let me be blunt, if anything happened to Señor Calderon it would go hard with you. You understand, of course, that I am not making any kind of threat.’

  ‘No escort,’ Jorge protested.

  ‘If you don’t accept a military escort, I’m walking out on you. After that, you fight this fight any way you want. Just don’t count on me to help you. I’ll be up in the Sierra hunting tigres.’

  ‘All right, two men.’

  ‘No less than four,’ Sundance said. ‘What do you think, Colonel?’

  The colonel had a film of sweat on his puffy face. ‘I think four should be enough. Four good men armed with rifles and sidearms. No one would dare attack Señor Calderon then. It’s settled then, gentlemen.’

  The colonel turned toward the door and would have left if Jorge hadn’t held up his hand.

  ‘Yes, Señor Calderon?’

  ‘We have much more to talk about, Colonel.’

  ‘Are you speaking of political matters?’

  ‘If you want to call it that.’

  For once the colonel was firm about not discussing matters that were none of his business. ‘Those problems must be solved by the President himself. It would be improper of me to speak out before President Diaz has heard what you have to say. I think the War Minister will support me in this.’

  Jorge suddenly dropped all the formal language. ‘No matter what any son of a bitch says, I’m going to free every Indian slave in Mexico. Good day, Colonel, I'll let you know when I’m ready to travel.’

  The colonel went puffing down the stairs and Sundance said, ‘That was fine, Jorge. In the States when a man is a hoss’s ass, they call him that. No other name fits some men so well. It fits you like new boots. Will you ever learn not to get on the wrong side of people who could help you?’

  Jorge sat down and hacked at his cold steak. ‘No, I won’t,’ he said. ‘In the years I’ve been in Las Piedras I never once met Almirante in the street that he didn’t look the other way. So to hell with the fat sneak and his politeness. He’s only polite because he’s afraid of the War Minister.’

  Sundance yawned though he wasn’t tired. It was just that listening to Jorge could be like pushing a round rock up a long hill using nothing but your nose. ‘I guess it doesn’t matter,’ he said. ‘I know what I’m going to do after you leave. I’m going to wait for General Crook, then we’re going to climb up in the Sierra and forget all about you. We’re going to hunt and fish for our meals, then bring back some tiger heads for the general’s lodge in Colorado. Anyway, it looks like you’re out of the woods at last. So am I. You won’t believe this, but I like the peaceful life when I can find it, amigo.’

  ‘You were going to lend me money for the new suit. I’m all out of money,’ Jorge said.

  Sundance grinned. ‘Yes, a new suit, new hat, new shirts, decent-looking boots. Even a razor with an edge on it. How does all that suit you?’

  ‘Very good. Maybe I'll meet your general when I get back from the capital. If he’s still here.’

  ‘If we’re still here you’ll meet him. Only don’t start jabbering at Three Stars—that’s the Indian name for him—the way you jabber at me. Three Stars is short on temper and will tell a man exactly what he thinks of him.’

  Jorge looked indignant. ‘Are you telling me I say crazy things?’

  ‘Yes, I am.’

  ‘Well, sir, I’m not afraid of this Three Stars.’

  ‘You ought to be. I am. Come on now and we’ll get you togged out for the trip.’

  ‘¡Dios! It may finally be over. All these years, all the people who have died, and it
may at last be at an end.’

  ‘It looks like it,’ Sundance said.

  Thirteen

  Finally it was time for Jorge to leave for Mexico City. They were up with the sun. Jorge was going over his legal papers. It was a bright, clear morning. The heat of the day hadn’t begun yet. Taking a pot of coffee off the fire, Sundance said, ‘Leave those papers alone and eat your breakfast.’

  Jorge shook his head. He had parted his hair in the middle and slicked it down with water. ‘No, nothing to eat,’ he said. ‘Coffee will do. If I ate something it would sit on my stomach like lead. I’m

  nervous, I want this to go right with Diaz. If I start with the head man and fail with him—then I’m finished. You think I have a chance?’

  ‘It looks better than it did. Diaz likes to think of himself as the father of all his people, Indian and white.’

  Jorge drank some coffee. Outside the town was coming to life. ‘How do I look?’ he asked, picking a piece of lint from the lapels of his new black sack suit.

  ‘Like a lawyer,’ Sundance said. ‘You look fine. You want me to go along?’ They had talked about that the night before. ‘I’m still ready to go if you want me.

  ‘No need for that. I’ll be safe enough with the soldiers. I already feel like a prisoner. No, you stay here and wait for General Crook. I will never forget what he has done.’ Jorge smiled. ‘No offense, old friend, but you have the look of a pistolero. If you came with me to Mexico City it might be said that I was hiring gunmen. You are known in many places.’

  Sundance smiled back at Jorge, now fingering his glazed white collar. ‘They might say that,’ he agreed. ‘All right, we won’t go over it again. You go with your army escort and I’ll stay here and wait for Three Stars. It will be good to see him after all these months.’

  Jorge looked at his great old turnip of a watch. He clicked the case shut and said, ‘It will soon be time to send the messenger to the fort.’