The Devil's Staircase

by Randy D. Smith

  Tanto smiled. "Surely. You can depend on us."

  Ortiz took on the look of having just cracked a rotten egg. "Si, amigos para siempre."

  "Start you fire and fix your vittles. Act like you haven’t a care in the world," Patch said. "We’ll hole up under a mesquite and nail him when he puts the sneak on you."

  It was nearly sunset when Black Jack held up his mount and studied the horizon. There was a subtle odor of burning mesquite. He slipped from his horse and tied him to a mesquite tree, drew a revolver and carefully worked his way toward the fire on foot. He held up when he saw the dim light of the fire flickering through the mesquite branches. He dropped to his belly and slowly crawled toward the camp. He held up at the edge of the clearing and carefully studied Ortiz. Ortiz was eating and reclining against his saddle. Something was wrong but Ransom couldn’t put his finger on it. Ortiz was too calm, the fire too large and Ransom had that itch of insecurity running up and down his back. He decided to wait for a spell and see what shook loose.

  After several moments Ortiz looked around the camp like he was expecting someone. He reached for his carbine and moved it closer, adjusted his pistol in his lap and allowed his eyes to sweep the area. Ransom reasoned that Ortiz was nervous, waiting for someone, trying to act unconcerned. He slipped back and decided to wait a while longer. Ortiz was going nowhere for the moment and Jack had him dead if he tried anything. Jack waited for nearly thirty minutes. Suddenly there was a cracking sound to his left outside the clearing. Ortiz jumped and waved his pistol in that direction. He whispered and seemed to be waiting for a response.

  "It is a trap," Black Jack thought to himself. "Someone is waiting in the mesquite for me to show myself." He decided to wait all night if need be for the other to show.

  The hours crawled by and the early morning cold set in. Still, Ortiz did not move or make an effort to go to his blankets. This only increased Black Jack’s suspicions of a trap. Eventually Ortiz nodded off into what appeared to be a sleep. Jack considered his options. This was Ortiz’s game and the odds were all in his favor. Ransom decided to pull out and wait for him farther up the trail. Once the sun came up he was going to be exposed and he had no way of knowing how exposed he would be in the daylight. He slipped back into the dark and worked his way back to his horse.

  Ortiz did not move until well after sunrise. Finally, he shook his head and got up to relieve himself and rebuild the cooking fire. After circling the camp carefully, Patch came into the clearing and waved Tanto to follow.

  "That was a long night," Ortiz said. "What do you suppose became of him?"

  "He’s a smart one. He was here. Waited over there for several hours, then crawled out. Killing old Black Jack is worse than trying to rope a wolf. " Patch said. "He just ain’t here no more."

  "What will he do?" Tanto asked.

  "Set a trap for us. He smelled ambush and took to the timber. Now we got to worry where he’ll hit us."

  "Is there anyway to lure him?" Ortiz asked.

  "Riding easy as a group won’t cut it. Neither will Tanto and I shadowing you. He’ll just bide his time like some Apache. Figure us out and pick us off one at a time. Hell, I’ve seen him do it to Apaches and they invented the game."

  Tanto craned his neck around, watching for Black Jack. "I do not like this. He could be anywhere."

  "That’s his game and he’ll play it for all its worth. He’ll have us jumping and pissing our pants at every rabbit track and prairie dog bark we spy. I figure that since you’ve been riding west, he’s waiting to the west. I say we mount up and make a run for it to the east. Maybe we can beat him back to the others and take them before he can catch us. I say let’s make it a horse race. Maybe just maybe Jack will get careless when he realizes where we’re going."

  As they saddled, Patch had them pack the mule and cut it loose, hoping to draw Ransom’s attention. They lit out for the east riding hard. The mule followed for a distance then turned up a narrow canyon.

  Ransom watched them from the crest of a rocky butte. "Patch," he thought to himself. "I should have known. But why are they riding to the east? Why would they back trail after a day’s ride?" He rode after them staying to the high ground as much as possible, watching to make certain no one dropped out to set up an ambush. When he came upon the mule tracks he followed, finding it grazing in the canyon. He threw down the pack and hobbled the mule before going on. As he rode he tried to guess Patch’s strategy. "They are going back toward Dona Elaina’s people. Why, when all reasoning dictates that they make a run with the money for New Mexico." Suddenly it hit him. "They don’t have the money. It was a ruse. Ortiz stole the bait but not the prize. They are going back for the money." He also realized what danger the others were in. He dug in his heels and put his horse into a full out run.

  Chapter 13

  The vaquero Esteban returned the horses and the group fell back to Sierra Blanca to saddle them. They rode hard to close the distance between themselves and Ransom. Riding equally hard toward them were Ortiz, Wilkes and Corrello followed by Black Jack.

  By midafternoon Wilkes held up his men and pointed toward Dona Elaina and her people in the low country ahead of them. "Look they’re coming right for us. We ain’t going to have time to wait for dark. Old Jacky can’t be more than an hour behind."

  Ortiz held up his horse beside Patch, Tanto on the other. "What can we do now?" Ortiz asked. "They still outnumber us by almost three to one."

  "Have you got any idea where she has the money hidden? How much does she have?" Patch asked.

  "At least twenty thousand dollars, but it can’t be in gold. She must have converted it to paper. She has to have the money hidden in her clothing or in a money belt."

  "We’ve got to stop them and hold their attention. Ortiz, you want to be bait one more time?"

  "What is your plan?"

  "Lay down in the road. Act like you’re hurt bad. They’ll stop to look you over. Once they get interested in you, Tanto and I will have the drop on them. We’ll take their horses and the woman. Get her off somewhere and make her talk. I’m guessing she’s the only one who knows where it is. Old Jack would have never followed you like he did if he knew you didn’t have the money."

  "Here?"

  Patch gave the area a quick scan. Rocks to the left, thick brush to the right. "As good as any. Tanto, you take them rocks. I’ll hide the horses in the mesquite and wait on the other. Don’t do nothing until I step out and call them down."

  Tad Cole held up his hand and halted the column. Segundo rode stiffly to his side. "Look there. Is that Black Jack in the road?"

  Segundo shook his head. "No, it is Don Francisco. I know his clothing."

  Dona Elaina joined them and shook her head. "Such an end for a caballero. Where is the Capitan?"

  "Who knows," Tad said. "Let’s see to you friend, Ortiz." He motioned the others to follow.

  Ortiz was face down, his right hand under his belly. Tad stepped down from his horse and rolled him over. When he came around, Ortiz shoved a pistol into Tad’s face and smiled.

  "Don’t make any sudden moves and you’ll live to see another day," Patch ordered as he stepped from the mesquite a pistol in each hand. "And don’t try anything funny or old Tanto will get you from the other direction. Now step down from them horses and drop them guns."

  Corrello walked toward them with a cocked carbine.

  The men dismounted, dropped their guns and raised their hands.

  Ortiz jumped to his feet and walked straight to Dona Elaina. Still mounted she rested her hands on the saddle horn.

  "Where is the money?" Ortiz asked as he walked toward her.

  "Where is the Capitan?" she asked.

  "Deader than a hammer and cold as a cod, senora," Patch answered. "There’s no one to bail you out and unless you want to take an unpleasant horse ride with us, you better give up that gold."

  "I have your guarantee?" she asked.

  "You give me the gold and I’ll let you people ride out
of here, without your guns, of course. You make it tough and these fellows will lose their guns and their horses, and you…well, senora, you don’t want to think about what I’ll do to make you talk. But talk you will."

  She nodded. "I have a money belt, under my poncho."

  Ortiz stepped to her horse. "Give it to me. I only want the money."

  "Why, Don Francisco? Why do you do this thing after all these years? What about Sonia?"

  "You would give it all up for her? She is not even your own blood. No, Dona Elaina, Sonia is dead. You chase a fool’s dream for an errant soul and you have ruined all of us. Rest assured I will put it to better use than some spoiled mocosa who does not know the value of hard work and sacrifice."

  "Me, I’ll spend it on whisky and whores; and damn proud of it," Patch smiled.

  "At least in your dishonesty, you are honest," she said as she reached under her poncho. "But you, Francisco, for you there is only hell." Her hand produced a short-barreled, large-caliber pistol. It was the last thing Ortiz saw.

  As Ortiz fell back, she wheeled her horse around and the vaqueros jumped for their guns. Wilkes fired once and jumped for the brush. Tad Cole grabbed the first carbine he could reach, rolled and shot Corrello in the head. Corrello’s carbine fired and a vaquero fell dead.

  "Get him before he gets away," Tad yelled pointing toward Patch.

  Esteban grabbed a carbine and started to follow but fell from a bullet hit to his chest. Several fired toward the direction of Wilkes but no one had a clear shot. By the time the smoke cleared, a horse could be heard riding away.

  Segundo motioned to the two remaining vaqueros. "Get him. Ride him down and kill him."

  The men mounted and gave pursuit.

  Ten minutes later Black Jack topped the ridge. He could see the group milling around the bodies. He rode up to see the bodies of Esteban, Corrello, Ortiz and the vaquero being prepared for burial. "Looks like I’m a bit late," he said.

  Dona Elaina nodded still sitting on her horse. "What happened?"

  "They gave me the slip and backtracked to you. Where is the money?"

  "The mule packs were a decoy. I have been carrying the money in a belt," she said.

  "Ain’t it awful heavy?"

  "It is in American fifty dollar gold pieces. I carry a hundred of them in my belt and yes, it is heavy."

  "Patch got away?"

  "Juan, Pedro and Lucien are after him. They will ride him down," Segundo said.

  Black Jack let his eyes drift in the direction of flight. "I hope so. I just hope you haven’t sent your last three vaqueros to their graves."

  "They are very good."

  "Yeah, I’m sure they are." Ransom gave him a hard look of grim resignation. "But so is Patch." He turned to her. "You haven’t been very honest with me. Why in the hell did you let me chase a man who didn’t have the money?"

  She motioned toward the men. "They didn’t know that and I didn’t know if any of them could be trusted."

  "No one?"

  "I trust no one, Capitan. Except for you and Paco. I could allow no one to go after him except you. For anyone else, the money is too much, the reason for loyalty too little."

  "But you think I’m different."

  "Yes, I think you are different."

  He nodded. "Fair enough. We need to ride on. Daylight’s burning and the end is waiting."

  "Do we wait for the vaqueros?" Segundo asked.

  "They’ll catch up if they can. If they can’t, they won’t. They could be chasing Patch all over Texas and never see him again."

  They buried the dead and mounted, making for El Paso and the Rio Grande.

  * * * *

  The vaqueros caught up with them the following day. They did not find Patch. Three days later they rode into El Paso, a tiny, grubby village along the Rio Grande. They purchased what few supplies and fresh stock that were available and she was able to find more suitable riding clothes, although she kept her cloak for warmth in the night. They immediately swung north making the slow climb up the canyon toward Santa Fe. The next night they camped along the river in a stand of tall cottonwoods.

  She stepped to the fire and removed the heavy belt. She placed it on the ground next to her and set her pistol on top of it within easy reach. Black Jack poured her coffee and chuckled. "That there belt looks big for me let alone for a little gal."

  "It is all I have. I will make do."

  "I know what you’ve said all along, but we’ll be in Albuquerque in a few days. This thing could get even rougher. I could leave you with your family, go on with the money and try to make an exchange. Whether your gal is alive or not, I’d either bring her back or the money. You don’t have to face the danger and you have my word that I won’t betray you."

  She smiled and nodded. "I have not been entirely honest with you, Capitan. My family no longer lives in Albuquerque. My father died years ago and the others were killed by the Apache during a raid on the rancho. There is nothing left but the land. Even the hacienda is gone."

  "I am sorry for you. Still, you could wait there in safety."

  "I trust you, Capitan. I know your word is good, but if something would happen to you."

  "What about Paco or Segundo? They seem like good men and they are devoted to you."

  "Where I go, Paco goes. He would not go on without me. Segundo is an honest vaquero but I cannot be sure. No, I will finish this thing. If Sonia is dead, I want to see Rafael dead. If she is alive, I, her mother, will see her back to safety."

  Ransom smiled. "You’re a caution, that’s for sure. I don’t know that I’ve ever met a woman quite like you."

  "Nor I a man like you, Senor Black Jack."

  "Well, it’s been a hell of a party so far. I ‘d say you’ll have a lot of stories to tell in the later years."

  "And what of you, Capitan? What are your plans after this is over?"

  "I guess I haven’t given it much thought. All I’ve thought about for the last three years is getting even for what they did. I guess I’ll just go back to Rangering. I don’t know nothing else."

  "You could find another woman. Begin again. A man who once had such great love for a woman will surely be able to love another. Any woman would want a man capable of such love. It is a rare thing."

  He looked into the fire. "No, my heart’s festered. There ain’t no poultice strong enough to get the poison out of me. All that’s left of my insides is a bucket of pus. A man can’t do the things I’ve done in the last three years and ever be the same again. I guess I’ve grown so used to hating and fighting that it’s all I’m fit for. They didn’t just kill Beth and the boy that day, they killed me as well." He sat back and cut his eyes to hers. "I’m a walking corpse. It’s just a matter of time until I come to terms with my maker for what I’ve done. Until then, I’ll ride for the Rangers and hopefully help keep some other poor bastard from following my trail."

  "Am I any different? If Sonia is dead, I have nothing. My family is no more. I will only be a shell. My husband did not love me. I was only a servant to keep his house and take care of his daughter. He did not see me as his equal in status or rank. I might as well have been a field peon. In the ten years we were married, he never once took me to his bed or even spoke warmly to me. The only person I had to love was his daughter and I gave her all the love I had. But even she only saw me as her keeper. The only person she ever loved was her father. In her eyes he could do no wrong and his attitude toward me eventually became hers as well. After he was lost she became ever more distant. No, whether she had been stolen or not, I would have lost her."

  "Then I ask you again. Why the hell are you here?"

  She looked at him with hard features, her eyes welling with tears. "Because she is all I have."

  He smiled grimly but did not look away. "Well, shit. Ain’t we a fine pair to draw to?"

  "Asi es la vida," she sadly smiled, choking back the tears.

  He nodded and repeated softly. "’Such is life.’ I guess you’re right.
The coffee is sweet or bitter, depending on who’s drinking it. I guess it’s just what you choose to taste."

  "You should keep that in mind, Capitan. The coffee could be much sweeter than you can ever imagine."

  He smiled. "You ought to keep that in mind your own self. It’s good advice for both of us."

  "When?" she asked.

  His face hardened, his eyes went cold. "When Rafael is dead."

  Chapter 14

  The Plaza of Santa Fe was abundant with activity. Located in the center of an adobe village of 12,000, it was the social, government and marketing center of the Mexican Southwest. Local merchants and traders congregated along and in front of the Governor’s Palace and hundreds of vendors lined the display of wares for a chance to make a sale. Hundreds of New Mexicans, Indians, Anglos and even Negroes worked the displays, trading and buying. Trading trails fed out of the valley of Santa Fe like great spokes of a wheel, north into the mountains and Taos Valley, west to California, south to Mexico and east to the United States.

  Black Jack dismounted and shook his head as he scanned the activity of hundreds of people. "How are we supposed to know where to find your contact?" he asked Dona Elaina.

  "I was only told that we would be met here in the Plaza. He will lead us the rest of the way."

  Tad Cole dismounted and took Ransom’s horse. "You got any special orders, Captain?"

  "There’s a cantina on the east side of the square. Let’s get something to eat and drink. I don’t know how long we’ll be here so you fellows need to make the most of your time."

  Paco Torres took control of Dona Elaina’s horse as she dismounted. "Is there anything you want, senora?"

  "I will eat with the Capitan. Have Earnesto keep watch on the horses. We will send food out to him."

  "Oooh we!" Tad Cole said. "I ain’t never seen a burg so bustling. There must be a hundred people in this square." He led the way into the cantina.

  The cantina was much finer than anything in the capitol city of Texas. The furnishings were of Spanish style and much better constructed than the rough-hewn log furniture of Houston. They were led to a large table where a meal of chili, frijoles and atole was set before them. They ate with their hands using the tortilla; a flat unleavened bread made of lye-soaked stone ground corn flour, fried thin over open fireplaces and used for dipping up the chili and frijoles. Atole was a thin gruel made by stirring flour into boiling milk or water. The men were hungry and did not worry about their table manners simply choosing to dig in as fast and furiously as possible.