by R. W. Stone
“Some white men tried to act in a fair manner, but when every soldier was looking for glory and when every reporter lied, the few who were on our side were easily ignored by the rest.”
McCallum nodded. “I know this and believe it. So, I ask you again, why do you help us and how do you know where Villa is?”
Skinyea threw some sticks into the fire. “You have no patience.”
Pedro just nodded.
Skinyea shrugged. “My people are scattered. Your people put some of us on reservations to starve, while others fled south. Now many years have passed and we just try to survive as a people.
“I have been told by others how to find this Villa and his army and I know the land. I chose to help you because as unfair as the Americans have been to us, the Mexicans have been worse, and I do not wish to have them succeed in ruining another family.”
“That it?” McCallum asked.
Skinyea shook his head. “Unlike what many have been told, we are not a heartless people when it comes to the innocent. This boy you spoke of has a sick mother and that is a good reason to find him. I loved my mother and would not like to think of her sick and worrying over me.”
McCallum looked over at the guide. “Sorry, amigo. I want you to know we appreciate any help we can get.” Pedro nodded in agreement.
“Besides,” Skinyea put it, “I need the money.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
The sky was particularly dark that night. The moon was obscured by clouds and there were few stars out for that time in May. As far as Jeff Shaw was concerned conditions couldn’t have been better. He would have checked his pocket watch but it had been taken by one of the Mexicans when they had first crossed the border. At the time, Jeff had been in no position to argue. He would just have to guess the hour.
Earlier he had met with Mercedes one last time to go over any last-minute concerns.
“Why did Cardenas ride out?” Jeff had asked.
“Villa ordered him to meet with another group that might want to join him,” she had explained.
“Great. That’s one less thing to worry about.”
Mercedes had shaken her head. “We still need to worry. Julio is very … how you say? … unpredictable.”
Jeff put his hands on her shoulders and stared into her eyes. “You want to change your mind? I can always go it alone.” He couldn’t believe what he was saying.
“Querido, you wouldn’t get a mile by yourself.”
“I’m not saying I want to, but I guess I would understand if you wanted to stay. We’re taking a big chance. Gambling our lives.”
“I no longer want to ride with these men,” Mercedes insisted. “They are not what la revolución was supposed to be about. Besides, where you go now, I go,” she added in a firm voice.
“Then tonight it is.” Jeff looked around to make sure no one was watching, then kissed her quickly.
* * * * *
When he judged it was time to move ahead with the plan, Jeff went to the base of the tree where the trigger mechanism was hidden. He made sure no one was watching him, muttered a small prayer, and then triggered the mechanism he had constructed.
At first it didn’t seem like anything was going to happen. Jeff was about to curse when he noticed the wagon bed was beginning to smoke. Maybe a minute passed by and then, suddenly, the wagon exploded in a huge ball of fire.
Jeff didn’t look back as he ran straight toward the stable to meet with Mercedes. He found her outside the building with two saddled horses. She had just pulled her revolver from its holster, opened its cylinder, and checked that it was loaded and ready. Done, she glanced in Jeff’s direction, and opened one of the saddlebags, pulling out another holster with a Remington single-action pistol in it. She tossed it to Jeff who wasted no time in buckling it on.
“Where did you get this?” he asked.
“I found the saddle in the back of the barn and the holster was inside the saddlebag. I think it belonged to Señor Richardson. The horse belonged to the hacienda as well. None of the soldiers has claimed it yet, so, if we are lucky, no one will even know that it is missing.”
“Except us, that is.”
Mercedes’ expression became even more serious. “Sí, no one except us.”
Jeff bent over and kissed her on the cheek before mounting. There was another large explosion at the other end of the hacienda as Mercedes mounted her horse. “Follow me quietly until we approach the gate. Then stay back in the shadows till I call for you,” she cautioned.
The two had gone over this part of the plan carefully. If they could not get through the back gate without calling attention to themselves, then all their hopes would end right here.
Nervously, Mercedes and Jeff rode toward the gate. They could see the flames reaching up toward the treetops and getting dangerously close to the main house.
“Wait here,” Mercedes whispered as she put a quirt to her horse and rode out into the open. As she neared the gate, she reined in her horse and started waving her arms and yelling. Jeff understood most of what she was saying.
“Hurry!” she yelled. “El general, he needs you. Didn’t you hear the explosion?”
“But we were told to watch this gate,” one of the guards protested.
“¡Idioto!” she yelled. “We may be under attack. General Villa will need everyone to fight. I will watch the gate till he orders you back. Go now. Go fight the fire before we lose the whole hacienda!”
The two soldiers had recognized Mercedes and knew her status with both General Villa and Captain Cardenas. It would be a toss-up as to whom the two men feared more. There was no reason to argue with her, especially if they were under attack. The pair hesitated only a moment, and then took off at a run.
Once the soldiers were out of sight Mercedes brought her horse right alongside the gate, and then reached down and undid the latch. She looked off into the darkness and whistled. “Now, Jeff, come, we ride,” she muttered to herself.
Jeff Shaw came out from behind the trees, and, with Mercedes right behind him, the two galloped through the gate and away toward freedom and what they hoped would be a whole new life.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Before the night was over Skinyea reminded them again that he would help McCallum and Peralta locate the Mexicans, not fight them. McCallum said he understood, but he felt regret that the Apache would not be staying on with them.
Neither Skinyea nor McCallum was the talkative sort; in fact, quite the opposite. Riding out on the trail for long periods quickly creates either an irritating annoyance between trail partners or a sense of camaraderie. In their case, it was camaraderie.
McCallum had always admired people who excelled at a specific skill, regardless of what it was, and in the short time they had ridden together, McCallum realized he had never met a finer tracker or anyone who could live off the land as well as Skinyea.
Admittedly, McCallum knew he could be stubborn and bossy. What retired sergeant wasn’t? But his long friendship with Pedro surmounted any annoying personality traits. In fact, after all these years, the two men complemented each other. Pedro and Thad had ridden together for so long, they knew each other’s moods, traits, and habits, good and bad. Pedro could read Thad like a book and knew when to break the mood and when to shy away.
In many ways, the Apache Skinyea had fit in well with the two partners. He was forthright, honest, and extremely capable. Both McCallum and Pedro felt sure the Apache would have been an asset in any confrontation, but they understood his unwillingness to involve himself further in a problem that wasn’t his.
After making camp on the following evening, the three men sat around their small fire, comfortably silent. Pedro smoked a cigarette he had rolled, and Skinyea slowly drank something he had brewed, using a concoction of herbs that he carried in a small leather pouch. McCallum puffed away on his pipe and from
time to time sucked on some licorice. Thad offered the Apache a piece of the candy, but Skinyea immediately made a face and spit it out.
Pedro smiled since it was the only time he had seen the Apache change his expression since they had first met. McCallum chuckled as well. He had read once that some Indian tribes didn’t like the taste of sweets and wondered if certain bands of Apaches were among them.
Thad wasn’t offended because he had long ago learned that there were many people who didn’t like the taste of licorice. Hell, if it weren’t for his dyspepsia, it wouldn’t be his first choice for a treat, either.
The next morning, McCallum and Peralta had awakened to find Skinyea was already up and about. His horse was saddled and, in fact, looked as though he had already been ridden hard.
“You’ve been out riding already?” Thad asked as Pedro built up the fire to heat coffee.
Skinyea merely nodded.
“So, did you find anything?” McCallum asked, frustrated that Skinyea seemed unwilling to supply any information beyond a nod of his head.
“I found many tracks to the southeast. It is about a two-hour ride,” the Apache finally reported. “I will leave you now. You will find what you are seeking if you head in a straight line that way.” He pointed to indicate the direction in which they should travel. “You are both good men. I wish you luck with your search.”
McCallum looked over at Pedro, who shrugged. It was obvious by his expression that Thad was concerned about paying for the Apache’s services before he could confirm that they would find Villa.
“Might as well pay him, jefe,” Pedro said, reading his friend’s mind. “So far on this trip he has been dead-on right about everything he’s told us. No?”
“Yeah, I guess so,” McCallum replied. Turning to the Apache, he said, “I trust you, Skinyea.” McCallum reached into his pocket and pulled out a roll of Yankee greenbacks. “There’s something extra in there. Pedro and I feel you deserve it.” He handed Skinyea the money. “That said, we haven’t actually found anyone yet.”
“You will before today is over,” Skinyea said confidently. “If not, come to the same place we first met and I will give you back your money. Adiós.” Without another word, the Apache mounted his horse and galloped away.
Now it was Thad’s turn to shrug. “Mighty sure of himself, ain’t he?”
“Must be a reason for it,” Pedro replied. “So, let’s finish this coffee before it gets cold and then head out.”
McCallum poured himself a cup of java, arching his stiff back before putting the coffee back on the fire. He looked off in the direction in which Skinyea had ridden. “I’m gonna miss that son-of-a-bitch, ya know.”
Pedro nodded. “Me, too, but look on the bright side, jefe.”
“Yeah, what’s that?”
“You still got me for company,” Pedro replied, smiling.
McCallum grunted. “Some bright side.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
When Julio Cardenas and his men returned to the hacienda, they found the place in a commotion. Men were running about with shovels and pails, yelling instructions at one another. There was a large fire spreading out in the area where the gringo’s wagon normally sat. The flames seemed to flare up with each attempt to douse it with water. Of course, Cardenas could see a few of the men—the naturally lazy ones—standing back, doing nothing, using the fire as an excuse to abandon their stations.
“¿Que chingaos? ¿Que pasa aquí?” he demanded angrily from horseback.
Looking up at the returning captain, one of the nearby soldiers replied that the gringo’s wagon had exploded.
“He was in it I hope,” Cardenas hissed.
The soldier, fearful of incurring his captain’s famous anger, cautiously answered, “We do not know yet. The fire is not yet out, and it is still so hot we cannot get close enough to see what remains. The general wanted us to make sure the fire did not spread to the main house.”
Cardenas spurred his mount and quickly rode over to the house where Villa had established his headquarters. After dismounting, he practically ran inside.
“Where is the general?” he yelled at one of the men in the hallway.
The soldier pointed to the door leading to the hacienda’s library, then saluted. Without returning the salute, Cardenas pushed through the door and approached General Villa, who was seated behind a large oak desk, smoking a cigar. He looked up when Julio entered the room.
“¿Que paso, Capitán?” Villa asked.
“Have you seen Mercedes recently, mi general?” Cardenas asked impatiently.
Villa looked annoyed. “Business before pleasure, Julio. I meant how did your mission go?”
Cardenas became even more irritated. Still, Julio was no fool, so when Pancho Villa asked a question, Cardenas knew it had to be answered.
“It went very well, sir. Morales has finally agreed to join us. His men should arrive in a week or two. He has about two hundred men that he can gather together. And he confirmed what we have heard about the gringo army having invaded our country.”
“Excelente. Good job. Soon then we will replenish our numbers. We lost too many after that last encounter with the federales.” Villa stood and laughed. “As for the gringos finding us … I wish them luck. You can go,” he said.
“Sorry to interrupt you for a minute more, mi general, but I wish to know if you have seen Mercedes since the fire started?” Cardenas asked anxiously.
“No, I have not. I have had other things to worry about, you know.”
“How about the gringo?”
“I haven’t seen him, either. We believe the pendejo blew himself up while mixing his chemicals. The men say the fire is very hot. We cannot be sure about the gringo until the fire is under control.” As an afterthought, Villa asked, “Why, what are you getting at?”
“I’m not sure, mi general, but I am wondering whether this was really an accident. Perhaps the gringo set the fire himself.”
“Impossible. Why would he? What good would it do him? He has no horse, no gun. Besides, he has no idea where he is. There is no way he would even try to escape.”
“Unless he had help,” Cardenas suggested.
Pancho Villa thought for a moment, and then broke out laughing.
“Now I understand why you asked about Mercedes. You think she might have something to do with this?”
“I honestly don’t know, but I am going to find out.”
General Villa considered what Cardenas was suggesting for a moment. “Look for her. Begin here in the hacienda, and then search the camp. Find her. If, after an hour, you cannot locate her, take three or four men and go after them.”
Cardenas nodded. “Sí, mi general.” He then turned to leave.
“One more thing, Julio.”
Cardenas turned back.
“Know this, Capitán,” Villa warned. “If that girl has betrayed us, the consequences will be a firing squad. Even if she is your woman.”
“If she has betrayed me, I will shoot her myself,” Cardenas replied. Just before he walked out the door, he added, “But first I will kill the gringo.”
It was a half an hour of searching for Mercedes before Julio finally worked his way to the back gate. Finding it unattended, he ordered the guards tasked with the job brought to him. It took a while to find the two.
“Why did you abandon your post?” Cardenas shouted when they were brought to him.
The two looked at each other, confused.
The shorter of the two replied, “No, mi capitán, we did not abandon our station. We would never do so. No, señor, we were ordered to leave.”
Julio slapped his leg with his riding crop, waiting for one of them to continue.
After a long pause, the taller of the two men, sweat beading on his forehead, explained: “La Señorita Mercedes rode up and told us that El Gener
al Villa needed our help … in case we were being attacked. She said she would guard the gate until we were ordered to return.”
“That is true, Capitán. I swear it,” the shorter man added.
“Maldita mentirosa,” Cardenas swore. “You two men stay here now, and if you leave this gate again, I will personally see you are hung for disobeying a direct order. But first I will rip off your balls. ¿Comprende?”
Terrified, the two soldiers hurried to their posts.
Turning to the men who had been helping him search for Mercedes, Cardenas ordered, “The rest of you get your horses, guns, and plenty of ammunition. Be back here as fast as you can.” Reconsidering, Cardenas barked, “Make that two horses for each man! All saddled and ready to go. We will have a hard ride ahead of us, I think. ¡Andale muchachos! ¡Vamanos!”
Chapter Thirty
After riding through a good part of the night, Jeff Shaw and Mercedes pulled up their horses for a rest. “We will stop here,” Mercedes said, wiping her forehead with a small rag of a handkerchief.
“You sure we can take the risk?” Jeff asked. He looked around nervously.
“Our horses need a break. Without them, we will not make it,” Mercedes replied. “We have pushed them as hard as we can. Luckily for us, the horses of the men who will be chasing us will get just as worn out. Even if they are only a couple of hours behind us, that provides us with at least an hour for our mounts to rest. They won’t catch us. Either they rest, too, which gives us time, or they run their horses to death.”
“I guess that makes sense,” Shaw agreed. “But I’m still gonna keep watch while you get some sleep.”
“De acuerdo,” Mercedes replied, nodding. “But I will make you some coffee first, querido. It will put something in your stomach and help keep you from dozing off.”
“All right,” he said. “Just as long as you get a little rest.”
She smiled at him as Jeff loosened their saddle cinches before leading the horses over to a nearby pool of water to allow them to drink. As he passed her, she leaned over and touched his arm gently.
