“You’d better take it easy, Sergeant,” Wildon cautioned him. “You’re supposed to drink sparingly when you’re hot and thirsty. That’s one thing I did learn at West Point.”
Garrity shook his head. “Pardon me, Lieutenant, but that’s so much hog swill. I’ve heard that for years, but a few summers of campaigning has taught me differ’nt. That includes this part of the country for quite a few years and some real blistering weather from Virginia down to Georgia. That experience taught me that when the temperature is up, it’s a big help to fill yourself with water. You’re dried Out and you need it.” The sergeant went back to his hard consumption from the stream.
Wildon joined him, at first trying to drink a little bit. But within moments, he was gulping it down as fast as the sergeant. He finally had his fill. “Damn,” he sighed. “That does feel better, doesn’t it?”
“Never argue with an old sergeant,” Garrity said, winking at the young lieutenant. He pointed upward to where the source of the water that trickled into the ravine would be located. “Clear, cold water like this comes from a mountain spring. When we get to the top, we can use the pool to drink out of. That’ll be where this stuff is coming from. And we can follow the stream straight up.”
Their canteens had been filled from the river by the farming village. The water was warm and stale. They poured it out and refilled the containers. Finally refreshed and feeling good, the two soldiers took their horses’ reins and resumed the tortuous route to the top of Bandido Mountain.
~*~
Hester watched dully as Senora Gonzales supervised the other two Mexican women. They dragged a heavy copper bathtub into the room. The old woman issued some quick orders and her charges scurried away. She went to a cupboard in the corner of the room and took out a large thick towel, a washcloth, and a bar of soap. She laid them on a chair by the tub.
Moments later the other two returned with pots of hot water. They poured the water into the tub and went out for more. When it was full, they withdrew. Senora Gonzales nodded to Hester. “Ahorra, bafiate, gringita.” Then she walked out of the room and closed the door.
Hester looked at the inviting bath, hot and steamy, with the soap and towels nearby. The thought of slipping into the water almost made her swoon. She walked over and stood beside the tub. She knew that the week on the wagon train and the wild ride up the mountain had left her sweaty and sticky. But she also knew that to bathe and refresh herself would make her more desirable to the love-mad Mauveaux. A chance existed also that he might suddenly appear in the room while she was naked and vulnerable.
Hester decided against a full bath, but she gave in enough to wash her face and hands. She bent down and picked up the soap. She gasped when she saw its brand name was Bristol. This sign from home made her feel sentimental and sad. Slowly, she dipped her hands into the bath and wet her face. Then, using the washcloth, she carefully washed.
When Hester finished, she felt much better even with that small amount of bathing. She walked to the barred window of the room and gazed up at the wall of boulders that surrounded the bandit camp. The realization that the route to Wildon and freedom was just on the other side was a tantalizing, emotional torture.
Hester stood gazing outward for a long time while the shadows lengthened across the interior of the settlement. A sudden wave of grief swept over her, and she wept silently in despair and frustration. The melancholy feeling was abruptly swept away by the sudden sound of feminine voices in the other room. Hester wiped at her eyes with the sleeve of her dress. Two women were approaching the door, their rapid speech growing louder. She recognized one as Senora Gonzales, but the other was that of a much younger woman—and it was shrill with bristling anger.
The door burst open and the two women entered. The younger was the beautiful, svelte Mexican woman Hester had seen when she was brought into the camp. She glared at the American, her hands on her hip in a challenging manner.
“Yo soy Lola—I am Lola!”
The old woman grabbed Lola’s arm and pulled at her, muttering angrily in Spanish.
Lola pushed Señora Gonzales away. The old woman persisted in trying to pull her from the room. With growing irritation, Lola turned and grabbed her and, shoving her through the door, slammed it shut with a vicious push. The housekeeper yelled from the other room; then her footsteps could be heard scurrying away. Lola walked boldly into the room, striding around and around Hester. She pointed to the bath water. “Hey! You don’t like to be clean?”
Hester, fearless, stood her ground. “Is there something I might do for you?”
Lola grabbed her nose. “Que pistosa! You stink!”
This was worse than anything that had happened to her. It was a real insult to her dignity from a social inferior. Hester’s hand lashed out, striking Lola in the face. “Shut your mouth, you miserable wench!”
“Ay!” Lola cried out, holding her stung cheek. “I get you for that, gringa!” She charged forward and grabbed Hester. “I make you sorry you take my Humberto!”
Hester grasped the Mexican woman and swung her around. Both went down and rolled across the floor, screaming and clawing at each other. Lola ended up on top, but Hester remembered seeing her boy cousins wrestle and recalled a trick they used to employ when one had pinned down the other. She swung one leg up and locked it around Lola’s face and pulled her down and off her. Reacting quickly, Hester sat up and jumped on her adversary.
Senora Gonzales, with two men from the settlement, rushed back into the room, screaming hysterically. Laughing, the bandits pulled Hester free, then grabbed Lola and dragged her toward the door screaming in rage. The shrieking continued all the way through the next room and out into the hall.
Hester ran to the barred window and looked down in the darkening compound to see Lola still being pulled away. Hester took a deep breath and shouted, “Let that be a lesson to you! We Bristol women are fighters!”
The old woman, slowly shaking her head, looked at Hester. “Ya ahorra tienes una enimiga bien peligrosa—now you got bad enemy!”
~*~
Wildon and Garrity led their horses back into a small box canyon. Its fifty-yard length curved slightly around to a point that concealed the back from the entrance.
“This may be home for a few days, sir,” Garrity said. “So let’s make it comfortable and safe. The first thing to do is take some branches, and brush away our tracks leading into here.”
“Right,” Wildon agreed. “I’ll take care of that.”
“Fine, sir,” Garrity said. “I’ll fix up some brush here so’s we can’t be spotted from above. Then we’ll take a look around.”
The chore took a quarter of an hour. It had grown much darker by the time they finished. Wildon glanced upward at the sky. “That full moon is mighty bright.”
“Just what the doctor ordered, sir,” Garrity said. “It’s giving off enough light to make a reconnaissance mission possible.”
After making sure their horses were comfortable, the two cavalrymen set out on foot to ascend to a point of observation on the bandit camp perimeter. It was easy to move silently through the rocks. The large formations were close together, offering good footholds. When they reached the top, they found they could peer straight down into the settlement.
Garrity tapped Wildon’s shoulder. “There’s a good place over there, sir.” He pointed to a place where a large, flat-topped boulder slanted upward. “Let’s perch awhile,” Wildon suggested.
The pair crossed a couple of ledges, then stepped onto the slab of rock. Lying down, they crawled up to the edge and gazed down on what was really a small town.
“Jesus!” Garrity said. “There’s a lot o’ them bastards, ain’t there?”
“There certainly is, Sergeant,” Wildon said. “They didn’t have a quarter of their full strength with them during the attack on the baggage train.”
“That shows that whoever’s running that outfit has military training,” Garrity said. “He knew how many wagons and men we ha
d.”
“There’s no doubt about it,” Wildon said. “He probably scouted us first. I wonder why none of our flankers spotted them.”
“Fellers like that have spent their whole lives sneaking around,” Garrity said. “Hunting as youngsters, then fighting as full-growed men. They do it so much it becomes second nature with ’em.”
“They’re good all right,” Wildon allowed.
“Yes, sir. And their leader took the right amount of men to do the job. The only thing he didn’t know was that we wasn’t carrying nothing worth the effort. Mulvaney told us he saw ’em look in the wagons.”
“Lord above!” Wildon exclaimed. “It gives you chills, doesn’t it? They could have wiped us .all out.”
“It means, Lieutenant, that getting your missus outta there is gonna be that much harder,” Garrity said. “But we’ll do it.”
“Damned right we will, Sergeant,” Wildon said. They spent a half-hour watching the activities of the town. The one large building in the center dominated the scene. Garrity studied it for a while. “That’s gotta be their headquarters,” he concluded.
“That’s where they’ll have Hester,” Wildon said.
“Maybe,” Garrity said. He wanted to say that it depended on which bandit owned her, but he didn’t see the point in adding to the officer’s misery.
Sudden shouting broke out by one of the huts. The two soldiers looked over and saw a pair of bandits yelling and gesturing at each other. One went for his pistol, working smooth and fast, shooting the other one down. A few others came up, and the arguing continued until more shots exploded over the scene. The episode ended with a total of three bodies sprawled in front of the hut. “Cold-blooded bastards,” Garrity remarked. “God!” Wildon said. “We’ve got to get Hester out of there quick.”
Garrity noticed something else. “There’s an entrance in the rocks down there to the left. See?” Wildon peered intently. “Right! It’s big enough to ride horses through.” He looked at Garrity. “You appear to have formulated a plan.”
“I think we should pull out of here now and get a good night’s rest,” Garrity suggested. “This place is hidden enough that we can spend all day tomorrow keeping an eye on the place and really learn its layout. More importantly, we’ll see what them nasty folks down there all do with their time. Maybe we can slip into their routine.”
“Then what?” Wildon asked.
“Then tomorrow night, we ride in and join the population,” Garrity said. “If we’re bold enough, maybe they’ll think we’re just a couple of the boys.”
“Do you really think we could get away with that?” Wildon asked.
“We’d better,” Garrity said. “Or we’ll end up like them three fellers.” He pointed down to the trio of men killed in the gunfight.
Other bandits were now dragging the corpses away.
Thirteen
Second Lieutenant Wildon Boothe was so nervous with agitation and impatience that he could not keep still. He drummed his fingers on the rocks that hid him as he and Garrity slipped into the twelfth daylight hour of spying down into the desperados’ settlement.
During all that time they had not had one sighting of Hester. Now Wildon’s worst fears played actively through his mind. Had the callous brutes ravished and murdered her, leaving her body to mummify in the desert sun? Or was she being held in one of the crude huts down there as a plaything for numerous rough bandidos. Even as he lay there, she could be suffering humiliation and injury from their carnal desires. A hundred awful pictures swept through his mind, and each required a distinct, individual effort to fight it down.
“Sir!” Garrity whispered.
Glad to have something—anything—to occupy his mind, Wildon gratefully crawled over to the sergeant’s observation point. “Yes?”
“I’ve been studying that place we picked to sneak through,” Garrity said. “When we first get in, we should slip into the shadows of those outlying adobe buildings there, see? Then we can easily move from there to any place we want to go. If anybody spots us, they’d just figger we wandered over from some other side of the settlement.”
“Right,” Wildon said. “Good idea. Are we going to bring our horses?”
Garrity shook his head. “Not this first time. We’d just have to sneak them out again.”
Wildon was disappointed. “Then you don’t figure we’ll get her out right away, do you?”
“I’m sorry, sir.”
Wildon sighed and checked the sun. “At any rate, we should be able to move in another half-hour.”
“Yes, sir,” Garrity said. Suddenly he uncharacteristically reached out and laid his hand on Wildon’s shoulder. “I know this is rough on you. I’d like to say you’re doing fine, young Lieutenant. I’m proud of you.”
Wildon, genuinely pleased, smiled. “Thank you, Sergeant Garrity.” The words from an older man he respected and admired made him feel better somehow as he settled back to continue the long period of observation.
That night was cloudier than the previous one, and when the sun finally disappeared over the far rim of the Santo Domingos, Wildon and Garrity had to walk with care to avoid falling. But the conditions made it easier to slip between the boulders and step out into the shadows of the nearest buildings.
Garrity took a deep breath. “Well, let’s go.” Wildon nodded. “And let’s forget the military courtesy.”
They strolled boldly out into the light and wandered toward some thatched huts. Making a slow turn, they began a careful walk straight into the settlement’s main avenue. Nervous and ready for any overt act of violence against them, the pair of interlopers relaxed when they drew but quick, casual glances from the people of the town.
The soldiers’ eyes moved ceaselessly, taking in every detail possible. Each time they passed a building, they chanced quick looks inside to see if Hester was visible. But all they saw were rough-looking men and their women, eating and drinking in the early evening.
“I’ve noticed that ever’body here ain’t a bandit,” Garrity said. “Look there. An open-air gunsmithy is set up and there’s an old lady selling tacos.”
“What are tacos?” Wildon asked.
“Good food,” Garrity said. “C’mon, Wildon.”
“You bet, Jim,” Wildon said.
Garrity bargained with the cook and finally procured a couple of chicken tacos for ten cents American. Wildon took a bite of the chicken-stuffed fried tortilla. “Good!”
Garrity tried his. “Sure is. Them Mexicans got two good things going for them—their women and their food. If I ever marry, it’s gonna be to a mexicana.” He lowered his voice. “Anyhow we’ll look better strolling around, munching tacos. I don’t think these jaspers would figger a coupla spies would drop by for supper.”
Wildon nodded. After they turned down another street, he spotted a sign. “I don’t know Spanish, but even I can figure that’s a good place to pay a visit.” He pointed to an establishment identified as La Cantina Americana.
“Let’s have a look,” Garrity said.
Without increasing their pace, the pair of soldiers walked toward the crudely constructed saloon. It was a large adobe-walled structure with a tiled roof. The front was wide open, giving an excellent view into the interior where tables and chairs of different styles were arranged haphazardly around the place. A small bar, tended by a portly barkeep with a huge handlebar mustache, was situated along the center of the far wall.
It wasn’t difficult to tell how the place got its name. All the customers were Americans. The only Mexicans were the staff. Wildon and Garrity chose a table near the bar and sat down. A comely waitress took their order for a couple of beers. She served them, then wandered off to tend the tables.
“How you boys doin’?”
Wildon glanced over and noticed a heavy-lidded American at the next table. The lieutenant nodded. “We’re fine, thank you.”
The American raised his glass. “The more of us the better. When did you boys git in?”
“Just today,” Garrity interjected. “We’re just looking around.”
“Y’all missed a job,” the American said. “But it didn’t amount to nothin’. An army wagon train with nothin’ worth stealin’—and nothin’ worth dyin’ for.”
Wildon took a sip of his beer, deciding to lead the conversation. “Nobody got a thing, huh?”
“Nope.” Then the man laughed. “’cept the boss. He got hisself a woman.”
Garrity put his hand on Wildon’s arm as a subtle hint to back off. “Well, that prob’ly didn’t last long.”
“Well, I don’t know,” the American drawled. “He took her to that there castillo.”
“What castle?” Garrity answered.
A feminine voice behind him answered, “The big building in the centro.” She smiled when the two soldiers looked at her. “Hello. I am called Lola.”
“I’m Jim,” Garrity said. “And this is Wildon. We just got in today.”
“Pretty interesting about that woman,” Wildon said, fighting to keep control.
Lola carefully looked at him. “It is nothing new for a bandit to take a woman for his own.” She shrugged. “Most of the mujeres in this town were stolen from someplace. They can’t go back ’cause ever’body in their home village will look at them like putas—whores, you know?”
Garrity was getting worried about Wildon. He quickly downed his beer. “We’d best get along now.”
Wildon took the hint. “Yeah,” he said sullenly. They wandered out of the bar and down the street. Wildon walked silently, looking up toward the big building in the middle of the settlement. His stomach churned with the knowledge that Hester was inside someplace.
They reached an alleyway of sorts. “Down here,” Garrity said. He pulled the lieutenant into the shadows. “We’re going back now. We know what to look for tomorrow.”
They hurried behind the buildings. When they reached the Cantina Americana, there was a movement in the darkness. Then the fat bartender stepped out. But he wasn’t offering any beer: Instead he held a Remington shotgun on them. He
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