by J. T. Edson
Margarita stripped naked and washed in a bowl rather than waiting for sufficient water to take a bath. She dressed and sent the maid to collect food and coffee. Then she sat at her table, opened a drawer and took out writing materials.
‘My noble, darling R.,’ she wrote. ‘It is with much pleasure I take up my pen to tell you of the furthering of our great plan.’
On she wrote, covering everything which had happened since her last letter. She still felt tired, exhausted from her trip and so did not think with her usual clarity. Perhaps also because she loved the man to whom she wrote, her keen brain did not function with its normal clear-sighted brilliance. Whatever the reason she did something she had never done before. In writing, placed so plainly that anyone who should find the note could see it, she became indiscreet.
After the stiff and formal report she went on; for all the world like some lovesick convent girl, she later thought:
‘And soon, my darling, we will be together again. Our army will carry us to el Presidente’s palace. I long for the moment when I will be once more in your arms even as I long for the time when I will no longer be Margarita de Plonchet but will call myself wife of Roberto Moreno, enlightened President of all Mexico.’
Even at that moment she might have seen her folly and corrected it, but a knock came at the door and Marcus entered. There seemed to be an expression of triumph on his face and a sneer to his lips.
‘I came as soon as I heard you were awake to tell you the news.’ he said. ‘I have arrested the Tejanos.’
'El Cuatro?’ she asked, although she doubted that Marcus would have been so calm if he had the Four as his prisoners.
‘No. The traitors who rode for Chavez.’
Margarita rose hurriedly, her face showing anger. ‘Is this some kind of a foolish joke?’
‘No joke, señorita,’ he replied and she caught the evil glint in his piggy eyes. ‘Somehow, I don’t know how, they came to learn of our plans to raid the Texas border villages. Then they showed their true colors, but my men had them covered. I have suspected them of being spies and traitors for a long time.’
‘Where are they?’ she spat out.
‘In the cellars.’
‘I want to see them!’
Marcus gave a shrug. ‘Very well, come with me.’
Just before she left the room Margarita saw her letter. She did not wish to leave it where prying eyes might read it and for the first time realized how indiscreet she had been in it. Taking it up, she folded it and slipped it into the pocket of her blouse. Stepping angrily, she followed the general out of her room, down the stairs and through the door leading on to the stone steps of the cellars. Two lanterns lit the steps and threw a glow of light over the barred door of the small cell let into the wall.
In the old days Almonte’s grandfather, or possibly his great-grandfather, often found need to incarcerate peons out of sight of other eyes. So he had this cell built in his well-stocked wine cellar. Don Francisco had never used the cell for more serious or sinister purpose than keeping under lock and key certain rare vintages of wine. Now it seemed the new owner of Casa Almonte had restored the cell to its first function.
Seated on the hard wooden benches Whang, Clapper and Dooley studied the man and woman who walked down the steps towards them. Then Whang rose and came to the door.
‘If this here’s a joke, ma’am,’ he said, ignoring Marcus completely, ‘some damned fool’ll be laughing with a busted head.’
‘It is no joke, traitor!’ Marcus snarled back.
‘What happened, Señor Whang?’ the girl asked.
‘I told you!’ Marcus put in before Whang could reply. ‘They wanted to leave when they heard of our plans to attack the Texas villages.’
‘Sure we did,’ Whang replied. ‘Look, ma’am, you brought us in to start a revolution down here in Mexico. Me, Clapper ’n’ Dooley never wanted in on it from the start and only come because Enrico was hide-bound to join. We took your pay and we did your work. But we won’t stand by and watch your boys butcher innocent Texas folks to get your way. There’ll be enough innocent folks die over this without making more.’
Dooley and Clapper rumbled their agreement and the girl felt her anger, hate and disgust of Marcus boiling up. She did not forget the way Marcus glared at Whang in the library when the Texan failed to show respect to him and did not doubt this arrest to be his way of taking revenge. All too well Marcus knew the reason for not telling Whang and his two pards the full plan earlier. Of all the gringos who came to join their army these three alone could be relied upon. They knew Mexico, were masters of their trade and had the cowhand’s loyalty to his employer to keep them working their best.
From the very start, while recognizing their sterling qualities, Margarita knew the three men would never agree to spilling innocent Texan blood. The girl did not entirely approve of it herself but he, her beloved Roberto, insisted it would be the only way. In Margarita’s love-blinded eyes he could do no wrong and whatever he said must be so.
‘Why do you say they are traitors?’ she asked.
‘Why did the Four raid the Inn of the Cock?’ answered Marcus, his eyes narrowing to slits. ‘Why did these men not fight. I have heard the full story from one of my men who returned. And if they are such enemies of the Four, why did they not break, or take these gringo dogs’ weapons as they did all the others?’
‘As to why the Four raided the Inn of the Cock,’ Margarita answered. ‘There could be more than one reason. Chavez was drinking heavily, making much noise. Perhaps in passing the Four heard and decided to see what happened at the inn.’
‘And why did the Four not take their guns?’
‘The Ysabel Kid and me’s been around for a spell, know each other. He figured I’ve growed attached to those ole Army Colts, so left ’em,’ Whang answered.
‘You see!’ yelled Marcus triumphantly. ‘They have admitted their friendship with the Four. And you said Captain Fog followed you north. How did he know you had gone unless these men told him?’
‘How’d we do it?’ asked Dooley mildly. ‘Sent up smoke signals. That there ole pipe Clapper uses’d do it.’
‘They were with me all the time,’ Margarita snapped. ‘Or under my eyes. In Lodgepole, without the aid of Señor Whang, I could never have made contact with Vincent, or fooled Captain Fog. If there is a traitor taking messages to the Four, he must be one of your men.’
Although the same thought had crossed his mind, Marcus ignored it. This was to be the showdown, a clash of wills. Its result would decide who would wield the power in Casa Almonte.
‘I will have them shot in the morning. We can see how this Gatling gun kills men,’ he said.
‘You fool! You stupid, blind, unthinking fool! Who else of our men knows how to handle a Gatling gun? That was the main reason for wanting these men to be with us. Now do you see why they must be freed?’
‘Set free!’ spat Marcus. ‘Never. They are traitors. If we set them free they will flee to their friends, tell them we have the guns. Tell them of all our plans. Tell the—’
‘The Four know of our plans!’ Margarita interrupted. ‘All of them. Already the United States Government may have been informed. Already word may be on its way to President Lerdo. We should have been ready to strike. We still might dare to if you had not taken your stupid, childlike and cowardly revenge on Señor Whang.’
‘Tell you one thing, Marcus,’ Whang put in quietly. ‘Comes a point I ain’t sure I wouldn’t rather be in here than out there right now. When Cap’n Fog gets back, and you haven’t the sort of men who could stop him, he’s going to be headed for Casa Almonte and those walls, that locked gate and them bunch of scared scum you got here won’t keep him out.’
For a moment Whang thought he had pushed Marcus too far. The man’s hand clawed down at the butt of his gun and murder gleamed in his eyes. Margarita saw it, too. Saw it and knew she must stand or fall on the stone steps, quell Marcus forever, or be under him. Ever since she c
ame to Casa Almonte, Margarita knew this moment must come, that she must face Marcus and throw her cards on the table. A lesser woman might well have waited until Captain Barrio stood at her back ready to lend his moral and physical support if necessary. Not Margarita. She was a de Plonchet, born to a breed of fighting warriors; daughter—how she wished she had been born a son—of one of the bravest men ever to wear the uniform of a French Army general and to die on the field of battle rather than surrender. A de Plonchet must not bow before this Mexican bandido scum.
‘You will release them!’ she hissed. ‘I will take their word that they will ride south and not interfere with our plans.’
‘I do no such thing!’ Marcus spat back.
‘Our leader sent me, he—’
'Leader!’ Marcus snarled, thrusting himself towards the girl. ‘And what leader is this? I am the leader!’
‘You are nothing but what I make you,’ she replied coolly.
‘Am I not?’ he all but screamed the words.
His hand dipped and the gun came into it. He stepped towards Margarita and she faced him, standing erect, not flinching though the gun’s muzzle rested against her body, gouging under her left breast into the soft flesh and its hammer hung back while Marcus’s finger quivered on the trigger.
‘Put it down, Marcus!’ Margarita said, keeping her voice calm and cold.
But she knew she had failed. She could not make him bow to her will nor back away from his resolve.
‘No, little woman. Not this time. No longer am I the poor blind fool for you to use. So you and your precious leader would use me—me, General Marcus—to further your plans. Then I would be cast aside, heh! We will see about that.’
Margarita’s legs trembled under her. She did not want to die, never to see her beloved Roberto again. She wanted to live, to help Roberto succeed in gaining control of Mexico, to rule as his wife.
Not by a flicker of her eyelids even did she show her feelings. Her eyes looked contemptuously at Marcus. If die she must then she would die proudly, not begging for mercy.
‘Don’t be a fool, Marcus,’ she said. ‘If I shout men will come and we will see who rules Casa Almonte.’
‘Yes, we will see. The men who remain are all loyal to me. I kept them back because of that. They will listen to me. It is easy. I shoot you, then the three Tejanos. My men will believe that I caught you trying to release them and acted the only way I could. Then we take the guns and we march on Mexico City. I hope I find this leader of yours before he dies.’
‘Back off!’ Whang barked, leaping at the bars of the door.
His words made Marcus take a hurried pace away from the girl and the gun turned from her for a moment, then swung into line once more.
‘There is time to deal with you later,’ Marcus purred. ‘Now for the great lady who is so friendly with our “leader”.’
Turning the gun towards Margarita, Marcus waited for her to crack, to beg for mercy. He did not notice the hand which Margarita tucked into her waistband. Even if the girl managed to draw her little Double Derringer she would never have time to use it.
Snarling curses, calling Marcus everything his talented vocabulary could produce, Whang tried to turn the gun from the girl and give her chance to save her life. He knew she carried the Derringer and recollected seeing her shoot a drunken, amorous soldier who tried to paw her, if nothing worse, as she crossed the grounds before the house.
Whang’s curses had reached the stage where he found himself having to repeat the choicer ones. He expected to see Marcus’s finger close on the Colt’s trigger and send lead into the girl. His eyes flickered to the blackness of the cellar and he stared, wondering if that vague outline, blacker than the surrounding darkness, did exist.
Thirteen – Don Francisco’s Tunnel
A serious looking bunch of men crowded into Don Francisco Almonte’s cabin in the hidden valley of el Laberinto. Almonte sat at one end of the table, his leg no longer splinted although he needed to walk with his crutch still. Dusty Fog had the seat of honor at the other end. Mark Counter, arrived the previous night with his men from raiding the Marcus soldiers down south, the Ysabel Kid, Waco and Sanchez also had seats. For the rest, the Almonte and Perez vaqueros, except a couple guarding the Marcus men Dusty brought in prisoner, stood back against the walls. All looked at Carlos, Almonte’s spy, who had just arrived afork a half-dead horse and bursting with news.
‘The guns arrived this morning,’ he said. ‘I had been on patrol and we returned soon after. But barely had we entered the grounds when Marcus came out himself to give us orders. We were to go out again immediately and not return until el Cuatro were either taken prisoner, or dead.’
‘I’m getting to reckon he don’t like us any, this Marcus hombre, Waco put in sotto voice to the Kid.
‘After I heard, I waited until we were clear of the hacienda then slipped away from the patrol. They may miss me, or may not, men come and go much as they please. Then I rode as fast as I could to tell you the news.’
‘That gal made real good time if she reached Casa Almonte this morning in a well loaded wagon,’ Dusty said, an admiring note in his voice.
‘That she did. There are dead horses stretched the length of el Camino Real. I heard of the way those Tejanos worked, running a team to exhaustion then changing it for fresh horses with as little time as possible,’ Carlos replied. ‘Madre de Dios, what horsemen they must be.’
‘Whang’s always been a good man with hosses,’ the Kid put in.
‘Now Marcus has his guns,’ said somebody in the background.
‘Yeah,’ Dusty replied, trying to hide the bitterness he felt. ‘Now he has his guns. You said the patrols had orders to stay out?’ he asked.
‘All have, Captain. The gates are closed and will not open again until you and the rest of el Cuatro are brought in dead or alive.’
‘How many men are inside the house now?’
‘Twenty, thirty at most,’ Carlos answered. ‘Marcus kept them on hand.’
‘Even so few could hold the walls of Casa Almonte against our attack, Captain,’ Sanchez said. ‘Probably some of the patrols will not be so far away that they couldn’t be brought in by the sound of shooting.’
‘I wasn’t figuring on an attack,’ Dusty replied. ‘I thought maybe some of us could ride up in the night, pretending to have Mark, Lon, Waco and me prisoners. Then when they open the gates jump the guards.’
‘It would be difficult, Captain,’ Almonte said in his polite, courteous way, ‘and unnecessary. I may have remarked that my ancestors were lovers of intrigue. It often became necessary for them to have a way of entering or leaving Casa Almonte without being seen, as well as being able to watch and listen from inside the walls.’
He paused and the others looked, grinning at Carlos, who often made use of those watching and listening places within the walls to gain his information.
‘There is one such way. It leads from the bosque beyond the walls and up to the wine cellar.’
‘A tunnel!’
The word burst from Dusty’s lips as he realized what Almonte meant, also how he might put the knowledge to use.
‘And unknown to Marcus’s men,’ Carlos went on. ‘I have never used it, cannot. But I have made sure that none found the door and have kept its hinges greased to open easily.’
‘How do you mean, you couldn’t use it?’ Mark asked. ‘Is it blocked?’
‘No,’ Carlos replied. ‘I have been through to the end to make sure.’
‘It is like this, señor,’ Almonte explained. ‘The tunnel end is set on a slope and to prevent its detection a large rock blocks it. Normally the rock would be left open sufficiently for a man to squeeze by and into the tunnel. But when I left to avoid arrest by the Marcus men, I had the rock levered back on to the opening. In that way there would be less chance of discovery at the bosqe end, while anyone who might find it from the cellar would imagine the roof had fallen in on finding the rock.’
‘We could d
amned soon haul it open again,’ said the Kid eagerly. ‘And be in the house afore Marcus and his bunch knew it?
‘We could.’
Something in the way Almonte spoke brought every eye to him. Pancho came to his feet and stepped forward.
‘Patron, your leg is not strong enough yet for you to walk so far, even if you did ride a horse yesterday.’
‘It is well enough,’ replied Almonte, squaring his shoulders and taking a determined look on his face as he eyed the other men. ‘Do you think I would allow you to go and capture Casa Almonte, my family’s home, while I sit here like some old woman! I go even if I must crawl all the way up on my stomach.’
There was little enough time to spare for organization and details, without wasting any on arguing with Almonte whose mind appeared to be firmly decided on his going with them. So Dusty did not even take the time to try. He told the men what he wanted, what he hoped to do. There would be so many things capable of going wrong or needing doing that Dusty did not even try to make definite plans. He laid down general ideas, gave what instructions he could, making the obvious arrangement that Carlos should act as guide should they get inside, then gave orders to collect the horses.
In any sense it would be a pitifully small force with which to storm a well defended house. Four men must stay behind and watch over the prisoners and women. Dusty wanted to send two of Sanchez’s party to try and gather aid from the hacienderos. That left a bare fourteen, counting Almonte whose leg would make him almost useless in a fight.
If luck stayed with them and they reached the inside, capturing its garrison, Dusty planned to try luring any patrol which came up, get them into the walls and capture them. If the plan worked, how long he could keep it up for before the swell of prisoners made the taking of more impracticable, Dusty did not know. If the worst should come they might hold the walls against the returning soldiers, fall back to defend the house for a time. In both cases they would inflict heavy losses on the revolutionaries so as to make them think twice before trying again. Then, after destroying the new weapons, make good their escape through the tunnel once more.
