by J. T. Edson
‘Cabrito!’ whooped the sentry, coming forward fast. ‘Amigo mio! Don Francisco said you would soon be coming.’ His eyes took in the other three and his right hand raised, the index finger stabbing out. ‘Four of you! You are el Cuatro. Hah! I bet Raoul fifty pesos Cabrito was one of the Four when I heard about the black clothes and the white horse. “Who else,” I said, “would show such poor dress taste as that?”’
‘Now there speaks a feller with a real keen eye for clothes,’ drawled Mark.
‘Anyways,’ growled the Kid. ‘I ain’t just one of the Four. I’m all of it. These bunch just trail along to—’
‘Get you out of the trouble you wind up in,’ Waco put in.
‘Which same trouble’s near on always caused by a woman,’ Mark went on.
‘Señor,’ replied the sentry with quiet dignity, ‘all the trouble in the world is caused by a woman. Come, Don Francisco will wish to greet you.’
‘You’ve a nice place here, amigo,’ Dusty said to Pancho as they followed the excited sentry towards the houses. ‘I can only see one way in. You could stand off an army here. But if you lost the rocks there you’d be in trouble. They sure would offer dandy cover and within repeater range of the houses.’
‘Possibly, Captain,’ Pancho replied, no amount of asking could get him to call Dusty by his first name any more than he would forget to address his boss as ‘patron’ or ‘Don Francisco’. ‘But there is no chance of a raiding party getting close without our hearing it, these passages carry the sound for miles. So we would hear and be ready. And if we did not receive the warning knocks our men could take their places. Each man brings out a bundle of dynamite, ready fused and hides it under his rock. Then, should we have to leave our position we each light the fuse and run for the houses, there to watch the forthcoming fireworks.’
‘You’re a right bloodthirsty cuss, aren’t you?’
‘How else, Captain? I’ve been around Cabrito a lot.’
Six vaqueros came from the houses, grinning and calling greetings to Pancho and the Kid. From the delighted way they greeted him, the Kid was clearly a great favorite of the Mexicans, as Waco remarked to Mark.
‘They call it fascination of the horrible, boy,’ Mark grinned, glancing at the girls who stood in the house doorways. ‘These boys sure are living higher’n a hawg here.’
Swinging from his horse, the Kid hurried forward, his hand held out towards the tall, distinguished looking man who hobbled out from the best of the buildings, his leg splinted up and his weight against a stout crutch. Even after being exiled in the Laberinto for so long Don Francisco Almonte managed to appear as clean and well dressed as when he greeted his guests at the doors of his great old house. Like his men, his face showed pleasure at seeing the Kid.
‘I’m sorry I couldn’t get here sooner, patron,’ the Kid said. ‘We heard nothing north of the line until Don Ruis Villeneuva arrived with word. Then I came, but had work to do and did not know how to find you, or even if you lived.’
‘You have worked very well, Cabrito, as I have cause to know. Marcus has been badly hindered in his plans by the work you and your friends have done.’
After being introduced Almonte suggested they turned their horses out to graze, then joined him in his house for a discussion on the happenings in the Aquila country. Dusty agreed and followed the sentry around the buildings. There he and the others cared for their horses and turned them free to graze and rest after the exertions of the past days. There were cattle grazing in the valley and a fair sized remuda of horses. Dusty could see that the land would support the stock almost indefinitely.
With their mounts cared for the Texans followed Pancho into the best house, to the small sitting-room, which had a roughly made table that looked at odds with the fine chairs around it. Dusty could see the reason for the table. A man could carry chairs through the passage, but not a table, so they must have brought the materials to build one in with them. The windows had inside shutters pierced by loopholes and the entire building gave the impression of having been built for defense against attack.
‘You are wondering how we managed to do so much in such a short time, Captain Fog,’ said Almonte, smiling.
‘I didn’t think it showed, sir.’
‘I understand your thoughts. It is very simple. I was given the secret of the Laberinto by an old Indian who made me swear never to reveal it unless there should be great need for the safety of myself or my family. During the Maximilian Government I felt the need for a place where I might escape if the French should learn of my sympathies with the Juaristas. So, it was after the last time you and your father visited us, Cabrito, I brought my most trusted men with me and we started to prepare this valley for emergencies. I had the house built over a spring. We brought in such furnishings as we could and prepared for a siege.’
The men sat at the table and a pretty girl brought in food and coffee. They all waited and at last the Kid asked:
‘How come Marcus picked on you, Don Francisco?’
‘I do not know. Possibly because Casa Almonte is the best defended house in the Aquila country. After the defeat of Maximilian I settled down to what I hoped would be peace and prosperity. For a time it seemed I would have it. Then, last year, soon after the news of Juarez’s death, Marcus approached me with a startling suggestion. That I should join him in a plot to overthrow the Mexican Government. Of course, I refused to do it and from that moment I knew my days to be numbered. Nothing happened for some time, but I have a man working in Marcus’s regiment, and I received word that Marcus intended to come to Casa Almonte and arrest or kill me. It would be the same thing, of course, and confiscate my land. The first thing I did was send my wife and daughters to a friend in New Orleans where they would be safe. Then I gathered my eight best fighting men, told the others to scatter among the neighboring hacienderos and we came here, bringing wives and belongings. In our small way we found means to harry Marcus’s men. Nothing much, for we did not wish anyone to know we are alive.’
‘El Cuatro have shown us the way, patron,’ Pancho put in eagerly. ‘Let us also begin to fight.’
‘It needs thought,’ replied Almonte. ‘Tell me what brought you here, and what you have accomplished so far, Captain Fog. And then you must rest.’
Dusty had not realized how tired he must have been until he woke and found it to be the following morning. None of the others had wakened either and Don Francisco gave orders that they must not be disturbed.
The day passed leisurely enough, with only tentative plans for raids being discussed. They ate, getting well-cooked food in plenty for a change and the horses looked to be enjoying their rest but needed more time to get into peak condition again.
‘Tomorrow,’ Almonte told them, when they joined him for supper, ‘we start to fight back. I wish you to teach us your tactics, Captain Fog.’
‘I’ll do my best, sir,’ Dusty promised.
He did not get the chance. Shortly after dawn they heard a thudding sound mingling with that of hooves approaching through the passage. The vaqueros paid no attention, except that one of them took a rifle and went to the rocks to stand guard in case some stranger might have found his way through and somehow learned their signal.
Even this precaution proved to be unnecessary for although the newcomer wore the dress of a Marcus soldier and looked but little different from the others of that murderous bunch, he was greeted as a friend. From his appearance and the way his horse was lathered, he had ridden far and fast.
One of the vaqueros took charge of the leg-weary horse and its rider went into Almonte’s cabin. He threw a surprised look to where Dusty and Mark sat at the table reloading empty cartridge cases ready for use once more. Then he nodded a greeting to the Kid but did not waste any time in idle chatter.
‘The stealing of the money Chavez took was not enough, Captain Fog,’ he said when Almonte introduced him as Carlos and explained Dusty’s presence. ‘It slowed the men down, but Marcus had more money and this is a
lready on its way to Lodgepole. It left late yesterday afternoon, but I could not get away until midnight.’
‘Who’s taking it and how’s it going?’ Dusty inquired.
‘Chavez is riding with his men as the escort,’ Carlos answered, wondering who this small man might be that he asked questions in such a manner. One glance at his boss warned Carlos that he had best reply and give full details. ‘And the woman, Señorita de Plonchet is taking the money in her coach. They left, as I said, yesterday and I think they planned a very fast journey.’
‘And who’s this de Plonchet gal?’ asked Mark. ‘That’s the name of one of Maximilian’s generals. It’s not likely any kin of his would still be in Mexico.’
‘This one would, señor? Carlos replied. ‘She has the courage of the big grizzly bear. She rules Casa Almonte with an iron hand. If ever there was a devil it is Margarita de Plonchet.’
An almost clairvoyant feeling came over Dusty as he listened to the words. ‘What’s this gal look like?’ he asked.
On hearing Margarita’s description he knew his suspicion to be correct. She had been the young woman attending Perez’s ball and he could guess why. To insult a vaquero’s woman would call for blood. However, if some foolish young vaquero caused trouble or fought with a soldier over Margarita she could claim that she did not wish for his attentions and give Marcus’s men a chance to extract their fine with less risk. However, there was something of more importance than solving a mystery which had puzzled him ever since he met the girl.
‘She’s got to be stopped,’ he said and a low rumble of agreement came from the others.
‘It will not be easy, Captain,’ Carlos objected. ‘As I said, she left with a good team, the best horses we have and taking others to change on the way. Then when they left more patrols than I have ever seen out at once went from the Casa. They are combing the country looking for you. Barrio has ordered them to find you and kill you.’
‘Those hosses of ours won’t stand a hard run yet, Dusty,’ Mark went on.
‘I have good horses you could use,’ Almonte put in. ‘But the soldiers will be looking for el Cuatro. Four men will be hard to hide.’
While the others talked Waco had been standing by the window, watching the remuda grazing. For all that he heard every word said and an idea formed. He looked at the horses, noting color and size. Stubbing out his cigarette he turned to the others.
‘Excuse me, sir,’ he said. ‘Do you-all have any blood bays amongst the remuda out there?’
‘Two,’ Almonte answered and every eye turned to the youngster.
‘And I’ve seen paints and at least two whites.’
‘What’re you getting at, boy?’ Mark asked, although he could guess at the answer even before Waco made it.
‘Just a fool idea—’
‘It’d have to be happen you thought of it,’ grinned the Kid, but he also knew what Waco meant to suggest.
‘Yeah. Well, one el Cuatro’s stirred up more mud than a fresh hooked catfish. Why’nt we let ’em have at least two more el Cuatros about?’
‘Which same you wouldn’t be aiming to raise a family in a hurry, would you?’ asked Mark.
‘I’d leave that to you,’ grinned Waco. ‘Nope, I reckon that we could get Pancho and some of the boys dressed in Texas style clothes, let them work out in fours, jump the soldiers like we’ve been doing, only keep to the south. That way the soldiers’ll stick close to the south and leave the north open and we can maybe slip through.’
‘That’s a real smart idea, boy,’ Dusty drawled and Waco looked so pleased with himself that his swelling chest near on bust his shirt buttons. ‘Only us four won’t be going north. Only Lon and me.’ He waved a hand to silence Waco’s protests. ‘Like Don Francisco says, four of us’d take some hiding. They’ll be looking for the tracks of four men. Likely, at least there’s a good chance, that they’ll pass up sign of a couple of hosses.’
‘Dusty’s right there, boy,’ Mark agreed. ‘And two can make better time than four. Besides if there’s at least one of us with each four the soldiers’ll be less likely to suspect something.’
‘Wished I’d never thought of the danged idea now,’ growled Waco.
The others laughed and Dusty came to his feet. He knew the urgency of the situation and did not intend to waste any more time. Almonte gave orders and his men hurried to drive in the remuda and allow Dusty to make his selection. Mark and Waco listened as he gave orders for the way they must act while working alone.
From the offered remuda Dusty and the Kid picked two dark colored horses, a big blue roan and a dark brown, both fine looking animals and capable of making the long hard run north to Lodgepole. They were also nothing like the mounts he and his friends rode, not in color and from a distance men hunting for four riders on two paints, a white and blood bay might not waste time in investigating a pair of men whose horses did not fit any of the colors.
‘We’ll make a start as soon as we can,’ Dusty said.
Two hours later the men emerged cautiously from the passage, after making sure they were not being watched. Waco sat a borrowed paint with the three vaqueros of his team, their clothes and hats altered to look Texas style, behind him.
‘I’ll go to the east, Mark,’ he said. ‘Stay out a couple of days.’
‘We’ll go to the south then,’ Mark replied. ‘Don’t you take any fool risks. You hear me, boy?’
‘I hear, pappy. Let’s go.’
Dusty and the Kid watched the two groups riding away.
‘Hope the boy’s all right,’ Dusty said.
‘If he ain’t learned anything from us since we started out, he deserves to get trouble,’ replied the Kid. ‘Which same he’s learned plenty.’
‘Sure,’ Dusty agreed. ‘Let’s ride, Lon. Head for the border.’
Nine – Lodgepole
Dusty Fog and the Ysabel Kid drew their horses to a halt and looked at the waters of the Rio Grande.
‘Reckon they made it?’ the Kid asked.
‘Likely,’ Dusty replied. ‘They’d be using el Camino Real most of the way and making good time along a near enough straight road. We’ve had to swerve a mite and hide some.’
‘Sure, but we made good time for all of that. You was right about only the two of us coming and me changing clothes though.’
‘Let’s get across,’ suggested Dusty. ‘I’ll feel a mite safer then.’
‘Sure. There’s a good ford here.’
Looking at the rolling waters Dusty could see no sign of a ford through the muddy surface. However, the Kid knew this stretch of the Rio Grande as well as Dusty knew the O.D. Connected range. In the old days when running contraband the Kid often needed to know these hidden fords to avoid capture.
His judgment did not prove faulty for, although the current ran fast, it did not reach the top of their boots in midstream. Neither drew rein until they sat their horses on the Texas shore once more.
‘Reckon Chavez’ll recognize you, happen you run into him again, Dusty?’ asked the Kid.
‘Maybe. He sure was toting a load of coffin-varnish when we hit him. It’ll be dark soon, Lon, reckon you can find your way to Lodgepole at night?’
‘I tell you, Dusty,’ answered the Kid, grinning broadly at his amigo’s question. ‘I know the way by dark right well. Fact being I don’t rightly reckon I could find it by day.’
‘How well do you know Lodgepole?’
‘Right well. My pappy used to run wine and tequila across the border to sell to ole Judge Buckley, him being local justice of the peace, town marshal, county deputy—’
‘And a right stout pillar of law and order, way you tell it,’ Dusty interrupted dryly.
‘Why sure. Smuggling’s only illegal to revenuers. We’ll call on in and ask the Judge how much he knows about Chavez and his bunch.’
They reached Lodgepole after dark, finding a small, yet fairly prosperous cow-town no different, except in the names of the business premises’ owners, from a hundred more
which ran the length of the Rio Grande country.
A short, bowlegged, whiskery old-timer greeted Dusty and the Kid as they led their horses into the stable. He looked down at the animal’s legs with some interest, then glanced at the riders.
‘Just come up from the Rio, huh?’ he asked.
‘Nope,’ replied the Kid. ‘Got wet crossing the Salt Fork of the Brazos. Been many in from the river tonight?’
‘Salt Fork of the Brazos’s a mite too far north for many folks to come from it,’ replied the old-timer and sent a spurt of tobacco juice splattering over a lizard on the wall some twenty foot away. ‘One bunch come in just afore noon. Looked like some haciendero’s daughter. Sure got a mean bunch riding with her though.’
‘They leave their hosses here?’ Dusty asked.
‘Nope. Saw ’em while I was down getting my rheumatism medicine from the Golden Harp. Hosses all tuckered out worse’n your’n. ’Course that’s only to be expected happen they come down from the Salt Fork of the Brazos. Mind you that’s tolerable good going. Not even Ole Devil Hardin’s company of the Texas Light Cavalry could’ve rid that far and got here with their pants legs wet.’
Dusty grinned. His uncle was a legend in his own lifetime.
‘You tell him next time you see him and I’ll bet he’ll recollect a time he did better. I never once saw Uncle Devil licked at spinning a windy.’
The old-timer threw a glance at Dusty, for he had caught the casual mention to Ole Devil Hardin. He watched the two Texans as they tended to their horses and gave a nod of satisfaction. Knowing cowhands in general, he could spot a top member of their trade. He also knew something of men and guns so could recognize talent when he saw it—and brother, he saw it right now in that small, soft talking boy who claimed relationship to Ole Devil Hardin.
So the old-timer showed eagerness to help out. He bustled off to fetch fresh water for the two horses’ stalls, then brought grain and filled hay nets. He waited until Dusty and the Kid dropped the bars on their horses’ stalls and waved a hand to the room which formed his office and home.
