Either the war party hadn’t been as big to start with as the reports Lt. Nicholson had gotten indicated, or else the Apaches had lost quite a few men in the raids they had carried out before hitting the wagon train.
“If we can wipe out half of them, they’ll cut and run for sure,” Kelly said. “Then we can pick off some more while they’re running. I’d have liked to get those other scalps, but this is all right.”
That was one way of looking at it, The Kid thought. He brought the rifle up and settled the stock against his shoulder.
“Wait until some of them have gone past us,” Kelly said. “That way the ones in front will be more likely to run.”
“What about Chess, Valdez, and Mateo?”
“They won’t open fire until we do.”
Impatience gnawed at The Kid’s nerves. Jess rode past, her head turning from side to side as she studied her surroundings. The Kid wondered if she was looking for an escape route. That would be just like her, he thought, checking for a way to make a run for it if she got the chance.
He hoped to give her that chance, very soon.
The prisoners were all in the front half of the column. Kelly let them go by. Then he looked over at The Kid and nodded as he lifted his rifle.
The Kid rested his cheek against the stock of his Winchester and peered over the barrel.
Kelly fired, and the head of one of the Apaches on horseback exploded.
An instant after Kelly’s rifle cracked, The Kid’s blasted as well. He had settled his sights on the bright red headband holding back the coarse black hair of one of the riders. The warrior flew off his pony like he’d been struck by a giant hammer as The Kid’s slug bored through his brain.
Even before the Apache’s body had time to hit the ground, The Kid worked the Winchester’s lever and swung the rifle toward another target, this time a warrior who was on foot. He drilled the man through the body. The Apache crumpled to the dirt.
It wasn’t a battle, at least not starting out. It was more like murder. The five men hidden on the slopes fired as fast as they could, pouring leaden death down into the gap between the two hills. The Kid glanced across the way and caught a glimpse of Mateo darting from tree to tree, killing another Apache every time he paused behind another bit of cover.
The Kid realized what the Yaqui was doing. His actions made it seem like there were more gunmen up on the hill than there really were. The Kid contributed to that illusion himself by dashing over to another tree and cranking off three swift rounds from there that dropped two more Apaches.
At least a dozen of the Indians were down already, and more continued to fall to the deadly accurate shots of the scalp hunters. As Kelly had predicted, the warriors leading the column kicked their horses into a gallop. The Kid saw that one of the Apaches had hold of the reins attached to Jess’s horse and was leading it. He swung his rifle and put a bullet in the man’s back, driving him forward over his mount’s neck. The reins fell free.
Jess’s horse was running loose now.
The Kid stopped shooting to watch as Jess leaned far forward and tried to retrieve the reins with her bound hands. Before she could manage to do that, the horse’s flashing forelegs tangled with the dangling reins, and suddenly the animal fell, sending Jess flying off its back and sailing through the air as the horse crashed to the ground.
The Kid’s heart leaped with alarm as he saw Jess land in a heap and roll over and over until she stopped and lay in a limp sprawl. He didn’t know how badly she was hurt, but she wasn’t going to have a chance to get away now ... unless he went down there and got her.
He was about to turn away and run for his horse when he saw one of the mounted Apaches racing toward Jess’s fallen form. The warrior looked like he intended to pick her up. The Kid snapped his rifle to his shoulder and blew the man off his horse.
The Apaches were starting to fight back. They peppered the slopes on both sides of the saddle with rifle fire. The Kid had to throw himself behind a tree as slugs whined and buzzed around his head. He heard more bullets thudding into the trunk. Pieces of bark and chips of wood sprayed through the air.
When the shooting let up enough for The Kid to take another look, Jess was gone.
Anger and disappointment shot through him. He looked past the gap to where a number of Apaches were fleeing across a broad stretch of open ground. He caught sight of Jess’s blond hair on one of the ponies. A flash of auburn told him that Leah Gabbert was still a prisoner, too. He couldn’t tell about the Price women.
“Son of a bitch!” he burst out.
“Don’t worry, Kid, we got more than half of them.” Kelly fired again and dropped one of the few Apaches still putting up a fight.
“But the others got away with the prisoners.”
“I told you, we know where they’re going. We’ll try to catch up to them before they get to San Remo, and if we don’t, we know we can find the women there.” Kelly looked over at The Kid with a shrewd expression on his rugged face. “You sweet on one of those gals, Kid? Is that why you’re so interested in them?”
“I just want to help them if I can,” The Kid replied. “But the scalps are more important.”
That was an outright lie, but Kelly seemed to believe it. He jerked his head in a nod. “Yeah, and there’s a bunch of them down there now, just waiting for Lupe’s scalping knife.”
The men on the opposite hill picked off the few members of the war party who hadn’t fled. After the shooting had been over for a few minutes, Mateo and Valdez cautiously made their way down the slope to check on the bodies and start the grim work of harvesting the scalps.
Kelly, Chess, and The Kid moved out into the open to stand guard while the other two men were busy. When they finally all rendezvoused, leading their horses, Valdez held up two bulging, bloodstained canvas sacks.
“Twenty-four more scalps,” he announced triumphantly. “We’re gonna be rich men!”
“Damn right,” Kelly said. “I counted forty-two of the savages. That means there are only eighteen of them left, and some of them are probably wounded. That’s mighty good work. I’m proud to be riding with you fellas.”
The Kid didn’t take any pride in associating with murderers ... but so far they had proven to be useful murderers, he reminded himself. He wasn’t sure they were any worse than he was.
He could brood about that when Jess and the other three women were free and safe, he thought.
“You know how to find this San Remo place, where Guzman’s headquarters are?” he asked Kelly.
“Sure,” the Irishman replied. “We’ve been there.”
“Well, if all the scalping’s finished, let’s get moving,” The Kid said. “There’s still work to do.”
Kelly grinned, but there was a steely edge to his voice as he said, “Don’t start giving orders, Kid. But I’ve got to admit ... I like your enthusiasm for the job!”
Chapter 22
Mateo had grown up in those rugged Mexican mountains and hills, so he led the way as the five men headed for San Remo. Not surprisingly, the Yaqui knew some shortcuts ... but the Apaches would know those same shortcuts, Kelly warned, so it was possible they would reach the village first.
“There’s something I was wondering about,” The Kid said as they rode. “You said the Mexican government pays a bounty for Apache scalps?”
“That’s right,” Kelly said with a nod.
“But the Rurales work for the Mexican government, and yet Guzman trades with the Apaches, rather than killing them.”
“Guzman works for himself, first and foremost,” Kelly said, “and his men work for him. Technically they draw wages from the government, but the paymaster from Mexico City doesn’t get up this way very often. The politicians established the Rurales so they could claim they were protecting the people, but except for a few officers who take things a hell of a lot more seriously than they should, it’s all a sham. The government doesn’t care what the Rurales do. So Guzman trades with the Apaches because
it makes money for him. Also, as long as he’s doing business with them, the savages will be less likely to attack him and his men when they’re out on patrol ... by which I mean, out hunting for slaves.”
The Kid could only shake his head in amazement after that long speech by Kelly. In his former life as a businessman, he had seen firsthand how corrupt the American politicians in Washington could be, but evidently the south of the border version put them to shame when it came to unabashed avarice.
After everything he had experienced over the past few years, he was no longer shocked by how low human beings could sink, but occasionally the depths of their depravity made him wonder just how bad they could get.
Right now, practical matters were all that concerned him. “If the Apaches are already at the Rurales barracks when we get there and have made a deal with Guzman, how will you persuade him to double-cross them?”
“The same way men like Guzman are always persuaded. Money. We’ll offer to split the bounty on the rest of the scalps we take.”
“What’s to stop him from killing the Apaches, taking their scalps, and collecting all the bounty?”
“Like I told you, there’s a truce of sorts between Guzman and the savages. He can’t just kill them openly. That’s where we come in.”
“So he’ll make it look like you killed them and he didn’t have anything to do with it.”
Kelly grinned and nodded. “Now you’re catching on, Kid. Everybody gets something out of the deal that way.”
“What about the prisoners?”
“Well, now, you may be out of luck there,” Kelly said. “You never did say whether or not you’re sweet on one of those women, but if you are, that’s too bad. If Guzman’s already traded with the Apaches for them, he’s not going to give them up. And if he hasn’t, well, we may have to throw them in to sweeten the pot. Sorry, Kid, but one way or another those ladies will be headed to Mexico City.”
The Kid shrugged as if it didn’t mean that much to him, but inside he seethed with rage. Kelly might believe that Jess and the other women were destined for short, degrading lives of slavery in Mexico City brothels, but The Kid wasn’t going to let that happen.
They wound through the foothills for several hours, then climbed to the pass through the mountain range. Mateo dismounted to examine the ground in the pass. When he looked up, he gave Kelly a curt nod.
“They’re ahead of us,” Kelly said. “How long?”
“One hour,” the Yaqui answered.
“That’s long enough,” Kelly said with a sigh. “We can’t get to San Remo ahead of them. We’ll just have to strike a deal with Guzman. That was what I figured to do, whether we got there first or not.”
The Kid tried not to let his spirits flag. He had still been hoping to get the prisoners away from the Apaches before they reached San Remo, but that wasn’t going to happen. He would have to figure out some way of getting them out of Captain Alberto Guzman’s greedy hands. That might be even more of a challenge.
From the pass they could see into the broad valley that stretched before them. The Kid spotted San Remo in the distance. It was still miles away, and the square adobe buildings of the village looked like a child’s building blocks that had been scattered across the floor in a fit of petulant anger.
Mateo leveled his arm and pointed. Kelly leaned forward in the saddle, and squinted into the distance. “Yep, there they are, all right.”
The Kid took out his telescope and extended it. He aimed it in the direction Mateo was pointing, and after a few moments of searching, he found the line of Apaches riding through the valley toward San Remo.
All the Indians were mounted. The ones who had been on foot earlier had been easier targets for the scalphunters, and their scalps were stuffed into Valdez’s bloodstained canvas sacks.
Jess and Leah each rode double with one of the warriors. The Price women still rode together on the same pony. Jess’s shoulders had a dispirited slump to them. She didn’t seem gripped with despair as strongly as Leah Gabbert was, but her failure to escape during the battle apparently had taken some of the wind out of her sails.
“Can you see them?” Kelly asked.
“Yeah.”
“Do a head count. Should be eighteen of the varmints left, if I counted right earlier.”
Those numbers agreed with The Kid’s estimate, but he moved the telescope to the front of the column and counted anyway, just to be sure. “Eighteen,” he announced.
“It’s a damned shame they’re too far ahead for us to catch them before they get to Guzman’s place,” Kelly said. “I think we could handle that many of the bucks.”
Not in a head-on fight, The Kid thought. In a case like that, he and his companions probably would wind up dead. But it was easy for Kelly to say when the Apaches were several miles away, he supposed. Kelly was in the habit of boasting.
“Well, let’s go.” Kelly lifted his reins. “It’s probably going to be dark by the time we get there.”
They rode on, with Mateo still taking the lead. More mountains loomed to the west of the valley, and true to Kelly’s prediction, the sun sank behind those peaks before the five riders reached the village of San Remo.
Mateo was able to find his way in the dark, and after a while the lights of the village came into view.
“The Rurales compound is at the south end of town,” Kelly said. “We’ll head straight there. There’s not much to San Remo, just a few stores and cantinas and a whorehouse.”
“As for myself,” Valdez said, “I would very much enjoy a visit to a cantina and a whorehouse.”
“In which order?” Chess asked dryly.
Valdez had to think about that. Evidently it was a question that required considerable pondering, because it was a long moment before the Mexican said, “The cantina first, I think. To give me added strength for pleasuring the señoritas.”
Kelly chuckled. “Be careful you don’t drink so much you fall asleep before you even get to the señoritas, amigo.”
“That will never happen,” Valdez declared proudly.
The Kid heard their banter but didn’t pay much attention to it. He asked Kelly, “What’s this compound you mentioned?”
“That’s where the Rurales barracks is located,” Kelly explained. “There’s the barracks building itself, plus Guzman’s office, a mess hall, an infirmary, a powder magazine and armory, and some storage buildings. There’s a corral inside the walls, too, but no blacksmith shop. They use the smith in the village when they need new shoes for their horses.”
“How tall are the walls?”
Kelly looked over at him with a frown. “You’re mighty curious about this stuff, Kid.”
“I like to know what I’m getting into.”
“Well, I suppose that’s reasonable. The walls are twelve feet tall and about a foot thick, with a parapet on the inside for riflemen and a couple of guard towers.”
“Sounds like a regular fortress,” The Kid commented.
“Oh, it is,” Kelly agreed. “Guzman’s managed to work up that truce with the Apaches I mentioned, but when the Rurales first came here, they had to fight off quite a few Indian attacks. That was before I was around these parts, but Mateo’s told me all about it. So they built the place to be defended.”
The Kid nodded slowly in the darkness. The information might come in handy. A lot of times places that were built to keep enemies out didn’t do such a good job of keeping people in.
He hoped that turned out to be the case, because sooner or later he was going to have to gather up Jess and the other women and make a break for freedom.
The five riders skirted the village and approached the Rurales compound, despite the yearning looks Valdez cast toward the buildings as he licked his lips thirstily. Torches blazed on top of the walls, casting their garish, flickering glow over the empty ground around the place. No one would be able to approach the walls or the gates without being seen by the Rurales on duty in the guard towers.
The f
ront gates were massive affairs made of thick beams and iron straps. Breaching them would be difficult.
Kelly rode right up to them and called out in Spanish. A challenge came back to him from the parapet on the inside of the wall. When the Kid looked up, he saw torchlight reflecting on the barrels of numerous rifles that were thrust over the wall to point at the newcomers.
“Tell Capitán Guzman that Enrique Kelly is here to see him!” the Irishman called to the guards. “We have a matter of urgent business to discuss.”
“Stay where you are, Señor Kelly!” one of the men on the parapet responded.
“We’re not going anywhere,” Kelly assured him.
The Kid asked, “Are they always this on edge?”
“They’re probably nervous because the Apaches are here. Having them around is sort of like inviting a mountain lion into your parlor. You never know what’s going to happen.”
“You mean the Apaches are inside the compound ?”
Kelly shook his head. “No, they wouldn’t all waltz in there and let the Rurales close those gates behind them. That would be running too great a risk. I figure their war chief, Salvatorio, and some of his trusted lieutenants took the women in to make the trade with Guzman. But the rest of the bunch will be somewhere close by, you can count on that.”
Kelly seemed to know what he was talking about, so The Kid took him at his word. They waited, and after a few minutes, one of the guards called down, “Capitán Guzman wishes to speak with you! We will take you to him!”
The Kid heard bars and bolts being undone on the gates. With a creaking of hinges, the massive portals began to swing open. As soon as the gap between them was large enough, The Kid and the other four men rode into the compound under the watchful eyes—and the rifles—of more than a dozen guards in gray uniforms and steeple-crowned sombreros.
Once they were inside, the gates swung closed ponderously behind them. The Kid looked around. The whole compound was lit up by torchlight, and he was able to pick out the various buildings Kelly had mentioned, including the long barracks, the squat, thick-walled powder magazine that sat against a side wall, and a building that was more imposing than the others because it had a second story with a wrought-iron balcony.
The Loner: Inferno #12 Page 15
