Lone Star 03

by Ellis, Wesley

  Chapter 12

  In complete disregard of his nakedness, Ki ran into the hall. Pierre Salazar was halfway to the stairs. He turned and saw Ki and began to run. Ki was faster than the hotelkeeper. He overtook Salazar before he could start down the stairs, and rolled to trip him with a quick shankutsu move. Grasping Salazar’s wrist, Ki levered himself to his feet, bringing his captive with him. Salazar’s eyes were wide with fright. He stammered, but no words came out. Ki did not speak. He whirled Salazar around and bent his arm up between his shoulder blades. Then he pushed him along the hall, back to Jessie’s room.

  As soon as he’d closed the door, Ki demanded, “Where is Miss Starbuck?”

  Salazar did not reply at once. Ki shifted the hand that was locked around Salazar’s wrist, moving it up to sink his fingers and thumb into the pad of flesh at the base of the hotelman’s thumb. Then he squeezed. Salazar winced and his face contorted with pain as Ki’s steel-hard fingers dug into the sensitive mound and compressed the network of nerves that ran through its flesh. He still said nothing, and Ki added to the agony his grip was causing by bending Salazar’s hand sharply backward.

  “If you want to save your hand, tell me what happened to Miss Starbuck!” he gritted.

  Salazar could hold out no longer. “The rurales!” he gasped. “Captain Guzman! He has taken her!”

  “Taken her where?”

  “Ay! Let go my hand, and I will tell you everything!”

  “Tell me everything, and I’ll let go of your hand!” Ki countered, bending Salazar’s wrist still more sharply.

  “He took her to the headquarters!” Salazar gasped.

  “Arrested her? Why?”

  “One does not ask Guzman why, when he arrests a person. I only know that he came in and ordered me to knock on Miss Starbuck’s door, and to call her. He said if I called, she would not be suspicious. I did what he told me to. When she opened the door, he had his gun drawn, and threatened to shoot her if she spoke. She said nothing, as who would? Then he took her away.”

  “In her nightclothes?”

  “No. He allowed her to dress.”

  “Did he have a warrant to arrest her?”

  “I did not ask. In Mexico, the rurales need no warrant to seize someone, Señor Ki.”

  “You’re sure he took her to the rurale headquarters? That building across the square?”

  “Where else?”

  Ki fell silent. Speedy action was imperative, but he needed time to dress. He brought up his free hand up to Salazar’s neck and locked his thumb and fingertips like a set of claws into the brachial junction at the point where the neck and shoulder join. Its blood supply blocked, Salazar’s brain no longer exercised control of his body. In a few seconds the hotelman slumped into a semiconscious state that would last for a half hour or more. Ki lowered the comatose man to the floor.

  Back in his own room, he found Lita sitting up in bed, her eyes still half-veiled with sleep. She looked at him as he slid into his jeans and strapped the shuriken case to his forearm.

  “Aren’t you going to come back to bed?” she asked.

  “I’d like to, but I don’t have time.” Ki’s mind was racing, trying to make plans. He slipped on his shirt, and as he was buttoning it he suddenly saw a way out of his dilemma. He said, “I need your help, Lita.”

  “To do what?”

  “To get out of San Pedro with Jessie.”

  “Ki, something’s wrong. What is it?”

  He did not answer for a moment; he was wrapping his surushin around his waist. Then he asked Lita, “Does your father have enough influence to keep Captain Guzman from causing trouble for you if you do something that will make Guzman very angry?”

  “Guzman would not dare cause trouble for a Mendoza!”

  “He’s causing trouble for Jessie and me. He arrested her a few minutes ago.”

  “Buy why did he arrest Miss Starbuck?”

  “Don’t ask me why, Lita. I don’t know.” Ki realized that he was about to take a risk, but had already decided that the risk of trusting Lita was less than that of leaving Jessie in Guzman’s hands a moment longer than was necessary. He went on, “You said last night that you were going back to your ranch this morning, didn’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Can you be ready to leave in a half hour?”

  “I...” Lita seemed bewildered. “I suppose so.”

  “Will you take Jessie and me with you, at least part of the way?”

  “Ki, I don’t understand all this! What is going on?”

  “I don’t have time to explain everything to you now, Lita. But will you have your carriage ready to go, as I asked you to?”

  “For you, this morning, I would do almost anything.”

  “Then do this, please. Gather up Jessie’s things and mine. Put them in your carriage. Oh—you’ll find Salazar in her room. He’s unconscious. Don’t try to revive him; he won’t come to, no matter what you do.”

  “What does Pierre have to do with all this? Ki, Pierre—”

  “I’ll tell you later. Have your coachman saddle our horses and put them on a lead-rope behind the carriage. When I bring Jessie back here, be ready to start.”

  “How do you expect to get her away from the rurales?”

  “Don’t worry.” Ki slid his arms into the sleeves of his well-worn leather jacket and transferred to its pocket the small shuriken he’d put in the pocket of his shirt the evening before. He said, “I’ll bring Jessie back.”

  “Ki, there are eighteen rurales in Guzman’s company! You can’t hope to—”

  “Yes, I can, Lita.” Ki took his teakwood bo from the corner where he’d leaned it when he came in the previous evening. “Will you do the things I mentioned, and be ready?”

  “I still don’t understand all this, but I promise you I’ll do just what you asked me to.”

  “Thank you, Lita. I’ll explain everything to you later.”

  Reaching the street, Ki moved with determination rather than speed. He crossed the plaza at a pace that would not draw the attention of the few early worshipers, mostly women, who were heading for the church to attend early mass. In spite of the hour, the doors of the stone building that housed the rurale headquarters were open. A knot of pistol-belted men in the charro garb that marked them as members of Guzman’s company were clustered on the building’s steps.

  Ki hesitated only only enough to study the group of rurales. Then, gripping his bo, he moved across the plaza. He’d reached the street on which the rurale headquarters stood, but still had not crossed it, when three of the rurales on the steps detached themselves from their companions and started for the church. Ki did not know whether Guzman had given his men orders to watch for him, but he felt he could take no chances. The three rurales in the street were the first to feel the impact of his bo.

  Almost without stopping, Ki dropped the first with an upward swing of the bo that caught the man under his chin and knocked him to the ground, unconscious. Even before the first man began to topple, Ki brought up the lowered end of the staff in an identical blow that stunned the next man in line. Continuing the smooth sweep of the bo, Ki laid out the last of the trio with a horizontal smash to his jaw.

  None of the three rurales had time to reach for a gun or to call a warning to their companions, who were clustered around the door of the headquarters. The rurales on the steps were crowding up to the doorway, their backs to the street, when Ki struck.

  There were five of them. The first fell when Ki snapped the tip of the bo across the nape of his neck. He took out the next man with a continuation of the swipe that had accounted for the first. Ki changed tactics then, for, as the second man fell, he staggered into the three standing in front of him, closer to the door. They turned when the falling rurale hit them, and, as they moved, Ki slid his hands to a new grip on the bo.

  Using it like a lance, he jabbed the man who he saw would be first to face him, thrusting the bo’s blunt tip into the vulnerable spot on the bridge
of the nose where bone and gristle come together. The bo’s tip smashed into the cartilage, splintering the bones that formed the bridge of the rurale’s nose. The upward force of the stab sent a sharp sliver of bone from the man’s nose into his brain, and he was dying as he fell.

  Swiveling his body gracefully, Ki accounted for the fourth rurale with a stab that dug deeply enough into the man’s solar plexus to split his diaphragm and start him tumbling down the low steps, gagging at the pain and gasping for breath.

  As he swung his body to put its full weight behind the bo’s stabbing movement, Ki brought up his left foot up, extending it as it rose. The sole of his foot took the last rurale squarely in the ear. The smash ruptured the tympanum and swelled its inner cavity, pushing the ballooning tissues into the sensitive nerves that clustered around it.

  Disoriented by the painful messages that the disordered nerves were pounding into his brain, the man yowled like an animal. Unable to hear his own cries, the rurale twirled in his tracks several times, getting entangled with the man whose diaphragm had been torn. Hopelessly entwined, the two fell to the top step and rolled down to the ground, their bodies writhing in agonizing convulsions while the animal cries of the deafened rurale echoed across the plaza.

  Ki had no idea how many more rurales were inside the headquarters, but he knew the cries of pain that the injured men were uttering would empty the building. The front door swung inward. Ki slipped around it and opened it wide, concealing himself in the narrow triangle between the inside of the door and the jamb. He did not risk looking when he heard the clatter of booted feet begin ringing out on the stone-floored corridor.

  Clasping his bo and holding it ready, he waited for the running rurales to pass the door, then swung it shut. There was a bolt on the inside. Ki threw it.

  With the heavy door closed, the shouts of the unhurt rurales and the cries of those Ki had wounded were muted. Ki did not know which of the offices was Guzman‘s, so he started down the corridor, listening at each door. He’d almost reached the end when he heard the angry voice of a woman through the panels of one of the doors. Even though the words were muffled by the door, Ki recognized Jessie’s voice. He tried the knob carefully, and found that the door was locked.

  Drawing back his bo, Ki thrust with its tip at the thin wood of the upper panel. Thick as the panel was, the steel-hard tip of the bo splintered it, taking a strip of wood an inch or so wide from its center.

  Ki freed his staff and looked quickly through the opening. He got a glimpse of Jessie, in profile. Her arms were pulled behind her, and her wrists were tied. She knelt on the floor beside a massive desk that stood in the center of the room. Her blouse had been ripped off her shoulders and her high breasts were thrusting forward against Guzman’s thighs. The rurale leader was leaning against the desk, in front of her. One of Guzman’s hands grasped Jessie’s golden hair, pulling her head up. His trouser fly was open, and his darkly ruddy phallus, erect and swollen, was an inch from Jessie’s face.

  As Ki peered through the split in the panel, Guzman was just turning his head toward the door. He saw Ki’s eyes and let go his grip on Jessie’s hair. Pushing past her, he started for the door, drawing one of the twin Colts that hung from his pistol belt.

  Guzman had taken one step toward the door before he reached for the Colt’s pearl grips. By the time he had the pistol drawn, he’d taken a second step and was within the reach of Ki’s bo.

  Ki had acted faster than the rurale. At the first instant that Guzman started toward the door, Ki had sighted along the five-foot length of the teakwood staff, and at Guzman’s second long stride, Ki struck with unerring accuracy.

  He jabbed the bo forward through the slit he’d opened. The weapon’s tip hit Guzman below the base of his now-drooping shaft, and tore through his trousers into his scrotum. Screaming in a high-pitched yowl, the rurale captain doubled up, dropping his revolver to the floor.

  Ki knew his stabbing blow would incapacitate Guzman for several seconds. He used the bo as a lever, and cracked the door panel around the slit to open a hole large enough for him to slip a hand through. He slid back the bolt and shoved. The opening door pushed Guzman to one side. The rurale chief was still bending from the waist and too stunned from pain to realize what was happening.

  Ki took the most vulnerable target the rurale’s doubled-up body offered—the tip of Guzman’s hipbone, where the complex of inguinal nerves passes over the iliac crest. The tip of the bo ground nerves into bone, and Guzman’s body flew erect in a spasm of pain greater than that which Ki’s stab in the testicles had caused. As the rurale’s torso was rising, Ki whirled in another spin to create striking force, and dug his stiffened toes into the side of Guzman’s neck, just below the jawbone. Guzman gave a spasmodic quiver, dropped to the floor, and lay still.

  “I thought it was about time for you to get here,” Jessie said coolly. She had risen to her feet and was leaning against the desk.

  Ki took a shuriken from his pocket, and used its sharp edge to cut the ropes that bound her wrists. She rubbed her wrists to restore circulation in her hands, then she pulled her blouse up over her shoulders. Only one button remained, and she slid it through the buttonhole with a shrug.

  “What’s next?” she asked Ki.

  “We get out of here, fast.”

  In the corridor there was a great hubbub. The rurales Ki had locked out at the front door were pounding at its sturdy panels and shouting loudly. From the stairway at the front of the hall, boot heels clattered as the rurales who’d been on the second floor of the headquarters building started to respond to the shouts of those outside.

  “To the back door!” Ki snapped. “That way!”

  They reached the end of the corridor. It ended at a blank wall, where another hallway ran into it at right angles. Looking both ways, Ki saw two doors. He had no way of knowing where either one led, but Jessie was holding his left arm and it was easier to swing her into a right-hand turn. They ran for the door. Ki opened it and saw an enclosed courtyard. On their left a pair of tall iron latticework gates stood open, and beyond them was the street. On the right was a row of stable doors, the heads of horses visible through the opened top halves. The horses gave Ki an idea.

  “Wait!” he told Jessie.

  Running to the stables, he sped along the row of doors, pulling open each one as he passed. At the end of the stalls, he turned and retraced his steps, rousting out the horses, until the courtyard was filled with milling animals. Shouting and waving his arms, Ki drove the horses through the wide gate and into the street, then he and Jessie ran after them.

  As they followed the spooked horses into the plaza, a medley of angry shouts rose from the front of the headquarters building, where the rurales from the upstairs quarters were trying to aid those whom Ki had felled on the building’s steps. The rurales started chasing the horses, ignoring Ki and Jessie.

  In the courtyard of La Posada Mendoza, the landaulet was waiting. Adelita was pacing nervously beside it, and the coachman sat on the box seat, holding the reins.

  As Ki and Jessie reached the landaulet, Adelita called, “Francisco! Andale! Vaminos al rancho!”

  She opened the door and Ki boosted her and Jessie inside. Before he was in himself, the coachman had slapped the reins on the back of his horse and the carriage was moving away. Ki looked back as they rounded the corner beside the church. A dozen rurales had come out of the headquarters and were standing there in a huddle, arms waving in excited argument. They paid no attention to the landaulet as it started along the dusty road that led to the Mendoza ranch.

  Chapter 13

  When the towers of San Pedro’s church were out of sight and no rurales had appeared on the dusty road to pursue the swaying landaulet, Jessie and Ki felt more comfortable. Certain that his bo would not be needed, and because it was an inconvenience in the carriage, Ki collapsed it and replaced it in its case. Lita had said nothing since they’d left the hotel, but now she turned to Ki, her lips set in a firm dete
rmined line.

  “You and Miss Starbuck are safe now, Ki,” she told him. “It’s time for you to give me the explanation you promised when you asked me to help you. What sort of trouble are you trying to escape, that the rurales should be after you?”

  Ki called on the silent communication that he and Jessie had developed through long practice. With a tiny flick of one eyelid and an almost imperceptible nod, he let Jessie know that he’d prefer to have her answer Lita’s question.

  From the moment Jessie had seen the method Ki had arranged for their flight from San Pedro, she’d realized they would have to give Lita some kind of explanation for their troubles. She’d decided to gamble that if their suspicions were true, and Don Almendaro Mendoza was involved in the cartel, Lita would know nothing about that aspect of her father’s life. Jessie had an answer ready, one that was truthful, even if not complete.

  “We’re after cattle thieves, Miss Mendoza,” she said. “We had to come by ourselves because we couldn’t get help from the United States Army, which has orders not to cross the border into Mexico. And we believe that Guzman and his rurales are working with the cattle rustlers.”

  Lita nodded slowly. “I’m sure Captain Guzman wouldn’t turn his back on anything that brought him money. He’s as greedy as he is evil. But why didn’t he arrest Ki when he took you prisoner, Miss Starbuck?”

  Jessie shrugged and answered Lita’s question with one of her own. “Who knows what was in Guzman’s mind? He had no reason to arrest me; Ki and I haven’t broken any laws in Mexico. All I can think of is that Guzman was hoping to force me to make some kind of confession that would give him an excuse to arrest us both.”

  “From what I saw before I broke into Guzman’s office, he was trying to force you to do more than confess,” Ki put in.

  “I’ve heard that in San Pedro, no woman feels safe from Guzman,” Lita said thoughtfully. “And he has looked at me—” She stopped short, was silent a moment, then said, “Of course, my father’s name protects me, even from a captain of rurales.”