by Tony Masero
Ellen accepted the introductions with a slight curtsy. “Gentlemen, I am Mistress Ellen Darby, forcefully taken from my family’s wagon train by the savages. I cannot thank you enough for saving me and keeping my honor intact. Oh! …” she cried out in surprise as a small child’s hand slipped into hers. “What’s this?” Ellen looked down into the wide eyes of Lucy who clasped her hand tightly whilst Mary Jane stood shyly to one side. “You have children here?”
Le Touquet raised his eyebrows expressively and looked over at Gringo, “They are yours to explain, Mister Wade?”
Gringo nodded. “Sadly, their parents were killed by the Indians, we took them along with us.”
“My, my,” said Ellen, looking at Gringo appreciatively before she turned a softened gaze back at the children. “You really are a guardian angel, Mister Wade.”
Gringo shyly lowered his head to his chest, “If you will excuse me, I really must….” he waved vaguely in the direction of the campsite.
“You will report to me later, Mister Wade,” Le Touquet said, with a slight edge to his voice. “I would like to hear all you have seen. You too, Miss Darby, if would be good to know the details of your wagon train and your destination. It may be we can help you on your way.”
As he walked away, Gringo noticed with some pleasure how Ellen practiced great attention to the two small children, who obviously appreciated the kindly feminine company after their rough experiences. He was taken by her strength of character if not by her striking looks even though she had been through such an equally bad time herself.
The dead were laid out and Le Touquet took his time studying the unfortunate Presidential Lancers lying amongst the Indians. A frown creased his brow and he rubbed his chin thoughtfully as he looked at the soldiers. It worried him to see such elite troops so in evidence in the desert and wondered at their mission.
Two of the mountain men returned to him and reported that they had tracked the escaping Apache as far as they could but he had vanished amongst rocky ground where they had lost his trail. Le Touquet shrugged indifferently, it was unlikely that a single Indian could cause them any further grief he was more perturbed by the presence of the Mexican military.
Later, after they all had enjoyed Allumette’s roasted beefsteaks, Le Touquet requested the company of Ellen and Gringo in his roomy tent. As evening set in, the men outside rested and watered their stock whilst lookouts were posted in the rocks above. An accordion was brought out and pipes lit as the camp settled down to await the night and the Boosway’s next set of directives.
Ellen smiled at Gringo as he held back the tent flap for her. She had done something to tidy herself up and once again her beauty struck Gringo. His life had been a lonely one spent amongst the tough mountain men and only coming into contact with females at the occasional fort, outlying settlement or at one of the Rendezvous. Then his company had been trading post squaw women or the distant company of the few soldiers’ wives that had risked a frontier existence and most of those creatures had been as hardy as the men they accompanied.
Ellen Darby was a young and fresh experience for him and he looked on her with surprised admiration, an attitude that kept him silent and self-effacing. For her part, Ellen thought of Gringo as her savior. She had been told by Lucy in no uncertain terms of his bold courage and this only bolstered her appreciation and fed her romantic inclinations.
Le Touquet welcomed them as they joined him around his folding camp table. It was gloomy in the tent and the Boosway leant forward and struck a tinderbox to light a solitary nub of candle in an empty brandy bottle placed on the tabletop.
“So, Mistress Darby,” he began. “You are more comfortable now, I trust? I apologize that we can offer you no more suitable dress than a horse blanket but perhaps if we catch up to your train you will be reunited with better clothing.”
“Thank you, sir,” she said politely. “You are most kind. My father and mother will be truly appreciative I am sure.”
“Tsk! It is nothing,” said Le Touquet. “But your people must be most concerned. They are perhaps settlers out here so far from civilization?” he asked the question casually, his eyebrows raised in query.
“No, sir. My father is a navy man and we are bound with a cargo for the President Santa Anna.”
“Ah, so!” said Le Touquet, with a quick glance up at Gringo. “I wondered at seeing the unfortunate Mexican lancers laid out here, they are of your party?”
“They are, I think they must be a search party sent out after me.”
“Poor fellows,” said Le Touquet with a surface show of concern. “But it must be an important cargo to warrant such a military escort.”
“I believe so,” she admitted innocently. “And not one to my liking, I must admit.”
Le Touquet waited patiently for her to amplify, his attention apparently distracted by a search for a brandy bottle on the floor of the tent behind him. Gringo, who stood by leaning on his musket, prodded gently.
“May I ask, Miss Darby, what exactly is the nature of their carriage that so distresses you?”
Ellen compressed her lips. “Perhaps I should not say but as you are fellow Americans I believe it will do no harm. In fact, I feel I must share this knowledge for I am not sure of what to do about it. It is a mighty gun, so I am told. A truly awesome piece. Similar to that which so recently almost cost the life of our president.”
Le Touquet looked up sharply, for once ignoring his beloved brandy. “Do you mean by any chance the Princetown disaster, Miss Darby?”
“I do, sir.”
“But the weapon failed, did it not?”
“So it did but this is a new and reinforced version, so I am led to believe.”
“And it is being sold to Santa Anna?”
Gringo noticed that Le Touquet had paled visibly.
“What is so special about this gun?” asked Gringo.
“If it is as the other two, the Peacemaker and Oregon, it is a monster cannon,” supplied Le Touquet. “A twelve inch beast with far range and power.”
“They call this one the Standalone,” said Ellen. “And although my father is commanded by the inventor Captain Stockton to bring it to the Mexican president, I cannot help but feel this is a rash move for there is little love lost between the Mexican government and ourselves just now.”
“True enough,” agreed Le Touquet. “I see you are a patriot, Miss Darby, as am I. So tell me why is your father so commanded?”
Ellen paused. “I believe it is a matter of funds, Captain. The two previous cannon left the inventor sadly out of pocket and he seeks to restore his fortune with this sale.”
“And why your father?”
“He is a Master of Ordnance and can educate the Mexican gunners in the weapons use I suppose. For my part I thought we were just to resettle in Sacramento but it was with some distress I learnt of our true mission.”
“Indeed, indeed,” mumbled Le Touquet, his mind racing. “But why California instead of Mexico City where the President sits, I wonder.”
“Well,” said Ellen. “It is actually a Mission House in San Diego we are bound for.”
“Aha!” breathed Le Touquet, nodding with satisfaction. “I believe I understand now.”
“What is it, Boosway?” asked Gringo.
“Cinnabar, Mister Wade. An ore much more precious than gold at present.”
“Cinnabar. What is that?”
“The simple Indians paint their faces with its dye,” chuckled Le Touquet. “But for us it is much more important, it is the way we refine gold. The crushed and condensed cinnabar ore produces mercury, an element of prime importance in refinement.”
“And so….”
“A large deposit has been discovered near the Mission of San Pedro, close to our prospectors efforts in the Alto Californias. Which, in turn means the raw gold discovered in mines and placer deposits around Sacramento will not have to be transported it can be refined much closer. On the spot, in fact”
Gringo be
gan to catch his drift. “You think the Mexican President will use the cannon to take the take over the cinnabar deposits?” he asked.
Le Touquet nodded. “With that gun he can certainly take anything. Probably wipe any fortifications from the face of the earth. I think it more likely he may use its mere threat to take back control of the region. His need of funds are as great as ours and the area has accounted for between five and seven hundred ounces of gold a year.”
“Surely not,” said Ellen.
“It is true I assure you. Mexico has been building its rich haciendas and great palaces for years on the proceeds.”
Le Touquet at last opened his brandy bottle and poured himself a glass. “I know you show no favor for the liquor, Mister Wade, so I shall not offer. And you, dear lady, are much too young to imbibe this devilish brew I am sure.” With that he swallowed the brandy in a gulp and quickly poured another. “We are a growing nation, Miss Darby, now only disparate territories and republics,” he continued. “Our resources are limited and we are spread across great and unmapped distances. From north to south our nation covers a broad spectrum of climactic and geographical variants and although we have many brave folk willing to risk all in exploring our boundaries we still need gold to succeed. We are forging the steel of the future here, it is our blessed mission to be at the birthplace of a new era in civilization. An historic occasion indeed but not one without cost.”
He stared into his glass, the light of the candle on the table turning the liquor a soft golden color. Le Touquet’s eyes glowed intensely with pinpoints of reflected light and Gringo wondered at the passion of his devotion. Suddenly, the Boosway jerked himself up as if he had been lost in sleep.
“Forgive me,” he said. “I wonder if you will excuse us now, Miss Darby. Mister Wade and I shall enjoy a cheroot together. You will perhaps check on the children and see to their comfort?”
“Of course,” said Ellen getting up. As Gringo held the tent flap open for her, their eyes met and Gringo saw what he believed to be a mellow look of affection there.
“Goodnight, Mister Wade,” she said warmly, as she moved by him.
“Ma’am,” he answered, wondering at what unspoken thing had just passed between them.
“Now,” said Le Touquet, once she was gone. “To business.” He shook out two cheroots and passed one to Gringo and they took turns at lighting the tobacco from the candle flame.
“Firstly, we shall see Senor Ibispo and his herd on their way, I shall ask him to take the children with him. They will stand a better chance of reaching safety than by being with us. I want you to go ahead of the main party with Miss Darby. You shall make contact with this wagon train and as her rescuer you will certainly be welcomed with open arms.”
Gringo drew on his cigar and nodded. “You wish me to spy out the land?” There was a touch of doubt in his tone.
“I wish you to do your job and scout for us, Mister Wade.” Le Touquet said reassuringly. “You know of our true task here and this news does trouble me. With a weapon of this nature no defenses of ours would stand a chance against Santa Anna. It is an imperative that he does not receive such an advantage.”
“So, what are you saying, Boosway. We are to take it from the train? These are our own people that carry it.”
“And the Mexican military that guards it,” snapped Le Touquet impatiently. “Would you have me allow the passage of such a boon to a restless enemy on our very doorstep?”
“No, sir. Of course not, but I worry at the presence of our fellow countrymen.”
“No harm shall befall them, Mister Wade. Our actions shall be prohibitory, either we shall remove the weapon from their possession or we shall destroy it entirely. That is my intention, for I tell you, we cannot let it fall into President Santa Anna‘s hands.”
They sat a moment within the glow of the candle and the lingering smoke from the cigars between them.
“Will you do as I ask?” said Le Touquet finally.
“I shall,” answered Gringo getting to his feet. “I will take Judas James and Allumette and we’ll leave at first light.”
Le Touquet pouted, “Allumette? That will not be popular, his culinary skills have been missed here.”
Gringo shrugged. “He is too good a man to be wasted as cook. I shall want him with me.”
Le Touquet spread his hands wide and then stubbed out his cheroot with an air of tired finality, “As you wish, Mister Wade, as you wish.”
Chapter Twelve
On his second day travelling on foot Asesino came upon the band of seven Cahuilla Indians.
Asesino held his hands high to show he was unarmed as the Indians surrounded him. Their leader, a short, broadly featured man, barefoot and dressed only in a tightly gathered loincloth, looked down from a rather poor looking pony and made his question in sign.
“Of what people are you?”
Asesino stood proudly upright. He was not afraid and his lack of fear showed in his posture.
“I am Litso Chíníí of the Jicarilla, the one they call Asesino.”
The leader looked bored, brushing a hand indifferently through his shoulder length hair he said, “I have never heard of you. We are of the Iviatim, whom you call Cahuilla and I am Juan Antonio.”
They spoke in Spanish then, a language Asesino had some knowledge of.
Meanwhile the ponies of the other braves moved restlessly around him. The men carried spears and bows and arrows and gestured threateningly with them. Occasionally a brave would prod with the sharp point of his stone tipped spear to try and get a reaction but unmoved, Asesino stood his ground.
“Why are you here in our land weaponless and on foot?”
“I am of an Apache war band. We have been wiped out by white men from the east, I am the last one left alive.”
The Cahuilla frowned, “There are white men nearby?”
“Yes,” said Asesino, seeing an advantage. “They come with a rich train of wheeled carts with many pickings. We took prisoners, horses and cattle before they slew us. There are women and children and a carriage of great length which they guard well.”
“So,” nodded the Cahuilla, his eyes glittering with curiosity. “What is in this carriage?”
“I do not know but it must be of value for many oxen pull it.”
The horseman nodded thoughtfully.
“I see you are a chief amongst your people,” said Asesino taking a different tack and using his best flattering manner.
“I am chief,” agreed Juan Antonio. “They have guns, these white men?”
“They do.”
“We make war now against the Mexicans. The guns would be useful.”
He sat a while, looking down thoughtfully at the Apache. Then he said, “You will come with us, Asesino. We will return to our encampment and I shall consider more this wagon train you speak of. You will tell us all you know.”
“I agree, I will go,” said Asesino, as if it were he who was in command and not the Cahuilla. “Give me water.”
A brave passed a gourd and he drank whilst they circled him, still cautiously watching the surroundings in case it was a trap and the solitary Apache was a decoy.
“You are Christian?” asked Juan Antonio.
Asesino shook his head. “I am Apache. What is Christian?”
“We are Christian,” the chief went on, displaying a large silver cross dangling amongst the shell necklaces around his neck. “The fathers in brown robes came to us and told us of the one true God.”
“I do not know of this,” said Asesino. “My people follow the spirit ways of the earth and sky as we have always done. Does this god of yours speak on the wind, can you hear his voice in the tongues of animals?”
“No,” said Juan Antonio. “He is our Father and he is there in heaven.” He pointed dramatically skywards to impress his point.
“He is of the bird people then?” frowned Asesino.
Juan Antonio laughed. “I see there is much to tell you. No, it was this way, when
the priests of the Spanish came in the time of our grandfathers they brought with them the knowledge of this great God in the sky and his Son, The Christ. They took us into their sanctuaries and washed us with magic water so that we might worship the one God. But these priests, they were men as others are and did not follow truly the paths of which they spoke. They enslaved our people and claimed our lives as theirs in servitude. They found the silver and gold they covet and we worked in their mines for their pleasure. We rebelled against this and fought their soldiers but we were weakened by the disease they brought amongst us. Without guns we were defeated and had to leave our lands and take to the desert places. The Mexicans are the sons of these men and still we fight them.”
“You follow their religious ways and yet they enslaved you?” Asesino asked in disbelief.
“Was not their God greater than ours if they could defeat us?” explained the chief. “This is how it is, we take only His power and reject their domination.”
“Then weapons are what you need?” stated Asesino.
Juan Antonio nodded. “This is true,” he agreed.
“We should take this train then for there are many guns there.”
“Maybe,” said Juan Antonio. “You will speak to our people, it might be you will convince them to take the warpath against this train and capture the arms.”
Asesino raised his flat hand and made a level cutting mark across his chest. “Let it be so,” he said.
“It will be so if I say it will be so,” Juan Antonio warned him sternly. He recognized the Apache’s arrogance and he made the point not wishing Asesino to think he might take command of the situation. “You have lost all the men in your war party and yet you alone remain alive. It does not speak well of your leadership or your courage, Asesino of the Jicarilla.”
It was like a blow in the face and although Asesino bore the rebuke without any facial display, in his heart he fumed.
“Let us see if you can run on your legs as well as your tongue does in your mouth,” said the chief disdainfully.
So saying, Juan Antonio turned his pony and the band rode off steadily with a bowed Asesino keeping pace alongside on foot.
