Wife Stealer

by F. M. Parker

  "Most likely all of us could. But who wants to die doing it?"

  "You're paying the money to kill him, so what do you want to do?"

  Carlos understood Hawkins, and was certain he would ride into Mexico to the Valdes rancho and strike at Ramos and Leo. Hawkins might also see the American señoritas and try to return them to the States. Both situations must be prevented. Carlos would gather the best pistoleros in Mexico and catch and kill Hawkins before he ever reached the rancho.

  "Hawkins won't allow Crampton's attack to go unpunished," Carlos said. "So let him come into my country where I have all the advantage."

  "What about me and my men?" Tattersall said. "We made an agreement with your father that for five thousand dollars in gold we would kill Hawkins. We've rode hundreds of miles because of that."

  "Come with me and help take his head and you'll be paid as my father said."

  "When do you want to leave?"

  "This very minute. Gather your men."

  In his room in the El Prado Hotel, Ben quickly packed for his ride into the hostile land south of the Rio Grande. Upon his first arrival in El Paso he had brought his Spencer rifle, bedroll, and the other items of his spartan outfit into the hotel for safekeeping. Now he gathered the outfit up into his arms, left the room, and went to Brutus tied in front of the hotel.

  He attached the scabbard of the Spencer to the right side of the saddle. The saddlebags and bedroll were fastened into their usual places behind the saddle. Then he walked swiftly toward the lobby of the hotel to pay what he owed for his stay and tell Tarlow that he would be gone for several days. He wanted to be gone before other men came to try to shoot him. More importantly, he wanted to catch Leo before he reached the Valdes rancho, which was guarded like a fortress.

  "Ben, wait up," a man called from the plaza.

  "What do you want?" Ben replied, recognizing Evan's voice.

  "I need your help."

  "For what?"

  "I want you to help me find Rachel."

  "What happened to her?"

  "That's just it, I don't know," Evan said, drawing closer to Ben. "Early this morning, she left my folks' ranch to catch up with me in town. I never did see her, and she never returned to the ranch."

  "Maybe she just up and left you." The words of the old night watchman at the Valdes warehouse came to Ben. The man had said there had been a second woman being taken with Maude into Mexico. That woman had green eyes, and Ben knew Rachel had eyes of that color from having seen her with Redpath in the restaurant.

  "She wouldn't do that and I'm sure of it," Evan said. "Something has happened to her. You know what she looks like and I want you to help me find her."

  "Evan, I just got back from Ciudad Juarez. While I was there, I talked with an old man and he told me about a pretty green-eyed señorita he saw being carried off into Mexico. I didn't know who she might be then. But now you tell me your Rachel's missing. So that must be who it was."

  "My God. When did this happen?"

  "Early today." Ben felt some guilt at not telling Evan that Maude had also been carried off. But not enough guilt to forestall the plan that was jelling in his mind.

  "Who was it that had her? Did he say?"

  "He told me there were two men. The Valdes brothers."

  "Valdes? Isn't that the name of the man that you stole horses from?"

  "The same."

  "Why would they take her?"

  "That's the way their father got his woman, or so I've heard. Now they're doing the same."

  "Do you know where they would take her?"

  "Most likely to their rancho in the mountains west of Chihuahua."

  "You must know where it is."

  "Been there a time or three."

  "You've got to help me get her back."

  "I don't have to do anything of the kind"

  "I'll pay you. I can't do it by myself."

  "I seem to remember a fellow who had his face all shot to hell and was willing to pay a certain surgeon to fix it for him. Now the surgeon had the skill, but wouldn't do it, said he couldn't stand to operate on a man. Does that sound familiar to you?"

  "Yes," Evan said weakly.

  "Now that surgeon wants me to ride hundreds of miles into Mexico and get his girl back from one of the most powerful men in that country. Valdes wants me dead and can muster a hundred pistoleros, even two hundred to do it. Hell, the old man can get the Mexican Army after me. Now you want me to ride into that."

  "Ben, I can't get Rachel back by myself."

  "How much does the woman mean to you?"

  "Everything, Ben."

  "What are you willing to do for me if I would help you? What's the payment?"

  Evan studied Ben, standing and facing him in the night in front of the hotel. Ben's face was in deep darkness; however, the massive scars that deformed it were imprinted on Evan's memory. He knew fully the complexity and danger of operating to reshape the man's face. The horrible sensation came to him of holding a scalpel in his hands and cutting living flesh, and seeing the blood flowing, and all the time the man quivering and jerking with pain so intense from a million severed nerve endings that he couldn't control his body to lie still and strong men were required to hold him.

  "Help me, Ben, and I'll do my very best to repair your face. But I'm telling you the pain will be so great that you might die."

  "It won't kill me," Ben replied. Evan would never know that the pain of being isolated from the world, from all humans, had already killed him. Or would have if it hadn't been for a wolf that acted almost human.

  Ben put out his hand. "I want an oath and a handshake on it."

  Evan took the hand and gripped it firmly. "You have my word that as soon as we return to El Paso with Rachel, I will do everything I can to restore your face."

  Ben retained Evan's hand locked tightly in his. "Not good enough. If by chance Rachel should not return with us, for whatever reason, you will still perform the operation. Say it."

  "She must come back with me."

  "Say it!"

  "Even if Rachel doesn't return, I will still operate on your face. Ben, I want to warn you, you won't look as you did before."

  "But I'll look human?"

  "Yes, I believe I can do that."

  "That will do. Now we'll get you outfitted. And I need more cartridges for my guns. I know a store where the owner sleeps up above. It's late but he'll open up for me."

  "Let's hurry."

  "Give me a minute to talk with Tarlow and then we'll be on our way."

  Ben went into the hotel. He was deeply worried. Valdes, with many tough fighting men, would be waiting somewhere along the route. Ben and Evan would have to shoot their way through them. Then Maude and Rachel had to be taken from them by force, or stealth, or trickery, or all three. If he could succeed in that, he had to keep all three alive during the long journey back to the States. Ben wasn't sure it was possible.

  THIRTY SEVEN

  In the darkness, Ben slowed Brutus from a gallop to a walk, and guided him off El Camino Real and onto a cross street in Ciudad Juarez. Evan reined his horse to follow.

  "Why are we stopping here?" Evan asked.

  "We need horses," Ben said. He didn't like being questioned about his actions. "You don't expect to ride that one you have at a run for hundreds of miles, do you?"

  "Hadn't thought about that. Just wanted to hurry on after Rachel."

  "Start thinking about how we're going to catch up with the Valdes boys," Ben said sharply. "And be ready for anything and everything. Carlos will try to stop us before we get to his family's rancho. Are you ready for a fight?"

  "Yes, if there is one."

  "You'd better be, for the odds are damn big that we'll have to kill some men before we get Rachel and . . . Rachel back." He'd almost said, "and Maude." It wasn't time to tell Evan that Maude had also been kidnapped. "For now we need the best mounts we can steal," Ben added.

  "You know where some are?"

  "Jus
t ahead. I'll need some help getting them."

  Ben halted Brums in front of the Valdes warehouse, and sat listening and watching into the black night. When Evan came up beside him, Ben spoke just loud enough to be heard. "This is one of the stations for the Valdes freight line. There's a watchman here and he'll probably be in that room."

  Ben pointed at the door, barely visible in the murk, located to the right of the warehouse's main entrance. "You go up to the door and if he comes outside, you keep him quiet. I'll go around to the other side of the warehouse where the horse corral is. Shouldn't take me long to sort out a couple. He's got a gun, so be careful."

  "Right."

  "Give me your picket rope."

  Evan unfastened the rope from the saddle and handed it to Ben.

  "Be back soon," Ben said.

  "I'll be here."

  Evan swung down to the ground and leading his horse, went to the door. He pulled his pistol and listened for sound from inside the room.

  Ben circled the warehouse to the corral and dismounted. The corral held at least half a hundred dark forms, some standing, others moving slowly about. He knew horses were watching him, and envied them their night-seeing eyes. Carrying Evan's and his picket ropes, he found the corral gate, lifted the latch, and went in among the animals.

  Ben knew that two kinds of horses could be mixed in the corral, the more powerfully built draft horses used to pull the heavy freight wagons, and the more slender riding mounts. Valdes bred only riding horses, and purchased the bigger draft animals. The selection of the two horses that Ben needed could be made by feel. The size would be the first cut. Then if the animal had the Valdes brand on its left hip—the scar from the burned skin could be felt—Ben would know he had hold of a riding horse.

  It required but the examination of five horses for Ben to choose the animals he wanted and to tie the picket ropes about their necks. Leading the animals, he hastened back to Evan.

  "Any sign of the watchman?" Ben said.

  "All was quiet."

  "Good," Ben said, handing Evan the end of his picket rope. "Let's get away from here."

  Back on the street, Ben halted. He jerked the saddle from Brutus's back and carried it to the new horse.

  Evan, seeing what Ben was doing, spoke. "Should I change my saddle too?"

  "No, leave it on. I've seen your horse and this Valdes one will be better. Ride yours until it can't go any further, then swap your saddle."

  "Why are you changing?"

  More damn questions, Ben thought. "I'm saving Brutus for when I really need a horse that I can trust. He's fast and he'll not stampede when the guns begin to fire, or run off and leave me if I get shot off."

  Ben mounted the Valdes horse, rode close to Evan, and looked at him through the murky night. "I'm telling you again to be ready for anything. I'd like both of us to live long enough to get back to El Paso."

  "So would I."

  "It's time to push hard. We've got a lot of miles to cover before we'll stop to sleep."

  * * *

  Ben and Evan rode at a gallop, the horses' hooves chopping them south on the El Camino Real. It was the last hour of the night and a bright crescent of a moon had sailed up over the rim of the world to the east. It added light to the sky glow of the stars. The contours of the desert terrain had become discernible, and showed the ancient Spanish road lying empty for as far as the men could see ahead.

  "I hope the horses hold up and don't go lame on us," Evan called to Ben. He was troubled and afraid that they would fail to free Rachel.

  Ben didn't reply. His eyes roamed constantly, scanning the broken, boulder-strewn land through which they were passing. He could make out yucca, agave, and saguaro growing on the hills, while creosote bush occupied the flats in between. He saw no cattle or sheep. There had been no house within sight of the road for many miles.

  The night gave way to day and the sun exploded fiery yellow up over the horizon. Inexorably it rolled along its sky path, burning its way across the heavens. The sun passed over its zenith and the shadows twisted around to point to the east.

  The two men rode the heat, with the sweat drying quickly on their skins and crusting into a thin film of white crystals.

  * * *

  An hour into the night, Ben and Evan rode into Samalayuca. Ben guided the way, with Evan holding station on his left. Ben had ridden through the town before, and knew the adobe buildings that made up the small village lined both sides of the El Camino Real for less than a quarter mile.

  "Stay alert," Ben said.

  "Right," Evan said. He sagged with weariness and the journey had hardly begun.

  "We need water for the horses," Ben said.

  "My canteen's empty too."

  "There's a public well in the center of the town and we can get water there."

  The two rode on through the town. Here and there light fell out of the window of a house and cast a frail yellow square upon the road, and upon the dust the men stirred to float in the air.

  At the well, several women were drawing water with the hand windlass and filling their buckets, all the time talking and laughing. Ben wondered what tale could be so funny. He guessed it would be about men. When the women saw the horsemen, they fell silent and took up their buckets and hastened off.

  Ben and Evan stopped at the well, drew buckets of water, and filled the watering trough that was close by. While the horses drank, the men scooped the cool water with their hands, splashed it onto their faces and necks, and washed away the salt and grime. They drew another bucket and one after the other, drank straight from it to slake their thirst.

  Ben pulled his bandana from a pocket and wiped at his wet face. As he did so, he turned and looked around them for possible enemies. He did not know why, but he thought danger was not far away. But then every step of the way to the Valdes rancho would be dangerous.

  "Evan, get the horses away from the water before they founder themselves," Ben said. "I'll fill our canteens."

  "The horses are used up," Evan said as he forced the animals back from the water.

  "We'll get fresh ones here."

  "How?"

  "There's a Valdes freight station here."

  "Another one? How close together are they?"

  "About every thirty to forty miles. Depends on whether or not there's a town where men can stay permanent. Besides owning a hell of a lot of land and cattle and horses, Valdes has the contract for hauling the supplies from Mexico City to all the military bases in northern Mexico. He also hauls most of the civilian freight."

  "I can see why he's a powerful man. But right now I'm starved. Let's get a bite to eat before we steal the horses."

  "We shouldn't be seen here by Valdes men. Carlos might have them on the lookout for me."

  "Just a quick bite. And I need a few minutes' rest."

  Ben saw Evan was leaning wearily against one of the horses. The man hadn't fully recovered from his serious wound, yet not once had he asked Ben to slow the hard fast pace he had set.

  "All right. We'll take a little time to get some food. That'll also give the people time to get off the street before we go to raid the freight station for horses."

  Evan looked about. "I see only one place open, that cantina there just across the street. I hope they have food."

  "Let's go take a look."

  They led their horses to the cantina and tied them to the hitch rail in front. Nearly a dozen horses were already tied there. Ben examined each one, running his hand over the left hip and feeling to read the brand.

  Evan silently watched Ben. He had heard the dislike in Ben's voice when he had been questioned. Let him volunteer an explanation for his actions.

  "There's no Valdes brand on them," Ben said. "We've got to think that every man we meet, every man that looks at us a little cross-eyed is an enemy, and we shoot him."

  "What if we're wrong?"

  "As an Indian I once knew would say, that man had bad luck. Now, let's go in and eat."

&
nbsp; Ben quickly surveyed the interior of the cantina. It was one huge square room with adobe walls and an earthen floor. Two lamps hanging from the ceiling illuminated the place with their yellow flame. The bar was on the right, with a big-bellied fat man behind it. He had turned as the gringos entered and was now looking at them.

  Standing in front of the bar were several vaqueros in worn, dusty clothing. They were drinking tequila and paid no attention to Ben's and Evan's entrance. A score of men, a mixture of vaqueros and townsmen, sat drinking and talking at several tables. Most wore pistols. A few of the men facing the entrance watched the gringos advance into the room. At the far end of the bar was a wide doorway open to the kitchen.

  The place was ripe with the stink of spilled tequila and beer, and stale cigarillo smoke, and unwashed bodies. The smoke hung in a thick, gray layer against the ceiling. Even with all the undesirable odors, Ben smelled the delightful piquant aroma of pepper-rich chili, tortillas, and meat frying—he thought it was lamb. There was also the smell of yeast bread baking, somewhat unusual south of the border.

  "This is a good one," Ben said, and sat down at a table not far from the door and against the wall directly across from the bar.

  The bartender yelled into the kitchen. A moment later a young girl with dark skin and a broad face and large black eyes came into the main part of the cantina. The bartender pointed at Ben and Evan and she hurried to them on quiet, moccasined feet. She looked once at Ben as she approached, then looked hastily away and kept her sight on Evan. Both men ordered food, each doing it easily in Spanish.

  Ben's attention was totally on the men in the cantina. They were surprisingly quiet, with the normal bantering among men being absent. He wondered if the quietness had just begun, and was because of the presence of two Norte Americanos. He scrutinized each man's face, evaluating his expression. After the first lock of their eyes with Ben's, every man found something more interesting to look at.

  A short, broadly built man wearing a six-gun got up from his table and headed for the door. Ben watched him cross in front of them and leave the cantina.

  In but a few minutes, the girl came on her quiet feet and served the food. Without a word she retreated to the kitchen.