by John Benteen
“Well,” he said, “next stop Mexico.”
Chapter Nine
Three months later, Fargo entered the Regal Hotel in El Paso. It was not a particularly prepossessing place, but it was not a flophouse, either. Dressed in corduroy jacket, white shirt, tie, whipcord pants and polished cavalry boots, he might have been a prosperous cattleman in town for the weekend. The battered cavalry hat was perched on the back of his head. The jacket’s cut concealed the .38 shoulder-holstered under his left arm. He registered, then watched carefully as the bellhop carried the big trunk with its special lock into the elevator. It contained the shotgun, the Winchester, the Batangas knife, his bandoliers, and his spare ammunition. The twenty thousand dollars he had collected from Jim Hanna had long since been put in the bank.
The elevator doors closed behind the trunk. Fargo waited; there was not room in the small cubicle for him. “You have a Miss Bonnie Canfield registered here, right?” he asked the desk clerk.
“Yes, sir. She’s in Room 210.”
“Good,” Fargo said. He turned away. Then, from across the lobby, a voice called his name.
He whirled instinctively, right hand half-moving across his body. Then he let it drop. “Hello, Mart,” he said.
Mart Penny came toward him in broadbrimmed hat, town clothes, high-heeled boots, Ranger badge on his chest, Colt on his hip, under the coat “You’re jumpy,” he grinned.
“I just came back from Mexico,” Fargo said, as they shook hands.
“So you got the Canfields there all right?”
“They’re settled in.”
“Like the valley you took ’em to?”
“They liked it.” Fargo paused, remembering how tears had run down Roaring Tom’s cheeks at the sight of the wild, timbered splendor spread out below him. “They’re there for good, unless the government wins the revolution—which they ain’t got a prayer of doing. I used all my drag with Carranzo, Obregon and Villa to set it up.”
“Which must be considerable. I’d like to hear about it. Can I buy you a drink?”
“Come up to my room,” Fargo said. “There’s a young lady upstairs who’ll be waiting for the details, too.”
“Sure.” They got in the elevator. In Fargo’s room, he unlocked the trunk, took out a fruit jar of clear liquid. Penny stared. “What’s that?”
“Canfield corn. The last bottle left in the United States.” Fargo grinned. “Come along.”
He led Penny to Room 210, knocked on the door. In a moment, it opened. Bonnie Canfield stood there, eyes wide as she stared at Fargo.
He stared back. She was worth staring at—blond hair done in the latest fashion, the long, ugly gingham dress traded for something in colorful print and lace, hugging every line and curve of her figure. Then she whispered, “Fargo!” She threw herself at him, pressing her mouth against his. Only after the kiss was over did she see Penny; and when she did, she was not embarrassed. “Come in, come in,” she said. “I’ve been waiting for you.” Already, Fargo noticed, she had begun to lose her mountain twang.
“You look good. Not much like the hillbilly girl that rode out of Black Valley on my sorrel to pass the word to Hanna.”
She smiled. “I learn fast. And I’ve got a job in a dress shop. That’s one thing every Canfield woman really knows—how to sew clothes from start to finish.” Then she was serious. “Fargo ... When I ... disappeared, on your horse ... Daddy ... How did he take it?”
“After I told him you were all right, he took it fine. He was anxious to get to Mexico, said if you wanted to leave the clan that bad, he wouldn’t come looking for you.”
“I know what else he said, too, I’ll bet. That it was my mother’s blood in me, like Jess, that I wasn’t a true Canfield. That’s why he didn’t care....”
“Maybe,” Fargo said, but she had struck the truth. “Let her go,” Roaring Tom had growled as the caravan had finally pulled out of Black Valley. “If she ain’t enough Canfield to stay with her own fambly ... I never should have married thet woman. She brought me nothing but grief, her and her spawn ...”
“Tell me about them,” she said, after he had introduced Mart Penny. “Tell me everything that happened.”
“It was a lot,” Fargo said. “We wiped out Steed’s gunfighters and didn’t lose a man.” He uncapped the fruit jar. “Lost some dogs and a few wounded. We lined up all the bodies, plus the prisoners, and we had just got through doing that when Jim Hanna came in with his herd. He pushed it through the pass, spread it out in the valley, and he and your daddy hit it off well, especially since Hanna paid the Canfields mighty generously to give up their claim on that valley.”
“I see.”
“Then Steed showed up, wondering what had happened to his gunmen. He clear about went out of his head when he saw most of ’em dead, and he began to threaten all kinds of things. Murder warrants, bringing in the army, that sort of stuff. Was gonna use his influence in the government to put all the Canfields in jail for murder. Jim Hanna squelched that in a hurry. He’s got more influence than Steed ever dreamed about; he’s been around a long time. He put Steed down, and hard. And nothin’ Steed could do about it; Hanna had Black Valley and he didn’t dare fight Hanna, even if he coulda rounded up another army. He rode out with his tail between his legs; especially since all those prisoners were left alive to testify against him as to how he had taken the law in his own hands.”
“He’ll have all the trouble he can deal with over that,” Penny said.
“Anyhow, Jim Hanna made the arrangements for your folks to cross the border, embargo or no. He had to go to the governor and the adjutant general to do it. But the adjutant general himself hotfooted over there to see what was up.” Fargo grinned, looked at Penny. “Jess wasn’t the only one we saved you trouble on. It turned out that most of those gunslicks had warrants out on ’em. The Canfields wiped out about half of the badmen left in Texas. That didn’t exactly made the adjutant general unhappy—especially since he’s also commandant of the Rangers. Cleaned up a lot of cases—and didn’t cost the state a nickel or a Ranger’s life.”
“So you kept your end of the bargain with me and more,” Penny said quietly. “Thanks, Neal. I knew you would.”
“What bargain?” Bonnie asked quickly. Then she understood. “Oh ... Jess.”
“Jess. I’m sorry, ma’am,” Penny said.
“Don’t be,” said Bonnie fiercely. “He had it coming to him. He was crazy. Mean crazy. I hated him ... everybody hated him ...” She broke off, then, sat down quickly on the bed. “He was my brother, but—never mind. It’s over. Finished. He never existed.”
Penny arose. “Neal, we’re still down on the border. But I’ll be around here a day or two, and we’ll talk over old times.” His eyes met Fargo’s. “Actually, you see, we don’t have enough men. There are places along the Rio we never patrol. It’s not right, of course, but there are gaps in our line that if one of those gunrunners knew where they were, he could slip a whole train of mules through without our ever finding out. When you and the young lady have had your get-together, look me up. I’ll buy you a drink and we’ll talk about the Rio.”
“Sure, Mart. Speaking of drinks—” Fargo held out the fruit jar. “Before you go, try that.”
Penny took it, drank long and deeply, lowered it with a sigh of satisfaction. “Man,” he said, in admiration. “That’s drinkin’ whiskey. If Mexico’s the only place it’s available from now on, I think I’ll go down and join up with Villa.” Then he grinned and left.
When the door closed behind him, Bonnie looked at Fargo for a moment. “I’ve been waiting for you so long. I thought you would never come.”
“I’m here,” said Fargo, and he took a long drink of Canfield corn and set the jar aside.
Bonnie’s eyes were lambent. Her red lips curved. “El Paso’s a wonderful town. I’ve learned a lot here. It’s a real education for a mountain girl like me.”
Fargo grinned. “I’ll see if I can’t help you continue your education,
” he said softly. And as he went to her, she came eagerly to meet him.
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