“I knew when Davidson took my sister Rosalinda to his house, I had to do something. If I had waited in the village, he would have just taken me and forced me into slavery sooner or later. The only way I could help Rosalinda was to escape and fight back against that evil man.” She hesitated. “You have been to the mine. Did you…did you see a girl called Rosalinda?”
Bo and Scratch exchanged a glance, and then Bo nodded. “We did. She works in the headquarters building as a servant. In fact, she served us our supper last night.”
“How did she look? Is she all right?”
“Seemed to be,” Bo said. “She looked like she hadn’t been mistreated.”
That wasn’t strictly true, but Teresa didn’t have to know the extent of the servitude her sister was being forced to endure. Not yet anyway.
“Ah, thanks to the Blessed Virgin! Perhaps I can save her yet!” Teresa’s face fell. “But how?” she went on miserably. “My few remaining friends have fled, and I do not know if they still have the heart for fighting. What can I do, alone against Davidson and all his gunmen?”
“That’s just it, Señorita,” Scratch told her as a grin spread across his rugged face. He glanced at Bo, who nodded without hesitation. “You ain’t alone anymore.”
CHAPTER 12
They couldn’t leave Teresa out there alone and on foot in the middle of nowhere, so she climbed up onto the back of the dun with Bo and wrapped her arms around him as they started riding northward again.
Feeling her plump breasts pressed against his back like that was a mite awkward, but he put his mind on other things, such as indulging his curiosity about something else.
“How did you manage to live through the fight on that mesa?” he asked her, turning his head a little.
“There was a crevice in the rocks, near the edge of the mesa. My friend José made me slide down in it before he and the others ambushed the wagons. He told me…he told me not to come out until he came for me.”
Bo wondered if maybe this hombre José had been more than just a friend to Teresa. As fiery and defiant as she was, he figured that she must’ve had strong feelings for José in order to go along with hiding instead of taking part in the battle.
Her voice was still choked with emotion as she went on. “I could see some of what was going on from there. I saw the wagons stop, saw the fighting around them. Then I heard the horses coming up the trail and started to climb out, but I slipped and slid back down. When the shooting started on top of the mesa, I knew there was nothing I could do except wait and pray that José and the others would be all right. Then the shooting stopped and the horses went back down, and I knew…I knew that nothing would ever be all right again.”
“How come you jumped us?” Scratch asked.
“By the time I heard your horses, I realized that I had nothing left to live for. I was determined to die fighting, striking whatever blow I could against Davidson’s men. So I climbed out of the crevice and came up behind you.”
Bo said, “I’m mighty glad you didn’t just start shooting without saying anything first. That gave us a chance to explain to you how things are with us.”
“I still do not know whether to believe you completely,” Teresa said. “I do not know if I can trust you. Perhaps you are taking me to El Paso to turn me over to the rest of Davidson’s men.”
“Not hardly,” Scratch protested. “Once you’ve known us a while longer, you’ll see that we ain’t like that.”
“You expect me to believe that you are honorable men? You sold your guns to Davidson. You must have done such things in the past, too.”
“We’re no angels,” Bo said. “Wouldn’t claim to be. We’ve lived rough lives and done some things we probably shouldn’t have. We’ve even had the law after us a few times.”
“But we ain’t complete skunks,” Scratch said. “There are lines we don’t plan on crossin’…like helpin’ Davidson mistreat any more folks.”
“In fact,” Bo added, “we sort of plan on stopping him from doing it.”
Teresa rode in silence for a few moments, then finally said, “I believe you are telling the truth…but you are only two men. What can you do?”
“Well, I’ve been studying on that,” Bo said. “Seems to me like what we’ve got to do is find Skinner and Wallace and the others and try to mend our fences with them.”
He felt Teresa stiffen against his back. “Madre de Dios!” she exclaimed. “Then you have been lying to me!”
“Not at all,” Bo insisted. “You’re right when you say two men can’t do much against Davidson and the rest of his bunch…if we go against them out in the open. But if we’re working against them from inside…”
Scratch nodded. “I see what you’re sayin’. We can do more good if Davidson thinks we’re still workin’ for him. That’s a mite sneaky, Bo.” He chuckled. “I like it.”
“But you would be putting yourself in great danger if you did that,” Teresa said. “If Davidson found out that you were working against him, he would have you killed immediately. That is, if he did not decide to have you tortured to death to serve as an example to his other men of what will happen if they turn against him.”
“Don’t worry about us,” Bo told her. “We’ve been in a few tight spots before. We don’t plan on letting Davidson know what’s going on.”
“Leastways, not until we’re durned good and ready,” Scratch added.
Evening had fallen by the time they reached Juarez. Bo reined in and asked Teresa, “Do you know anybody here in town where you can stay for a while?”
She shook her head. “I have been here before, but only twice. Nearly all my life has been spent in San Ramon. I know no one in Juarez.”
Scratch had brought the bay to a halt beside Bo’s dun. He rubbed his jaw in thought, the fingertips rasping over a couple of days’ worth of silvery beard stubble. “We need a place to stash the señorita, don’t we?”
“That’s what I was thinking,” Bo said.
“How about Luz’s?”
Bo frowned. “You reckon the place is still there?”
“It was the last I heard.” Scratch chuckled. “I would’ve gotten around to checkin’ to make certain, happen we hadn’t gotten mixed up with Davidson instead.”
“Yeah, I’m sure you would have,” Bo agreed dryly. “All right. I reckon it’s as good a place as any, and better than most.” He turned his head to speak to Teresa. “My apologies in advance, Señorita. You’re about to see some things that aren’t entirely proper.”
“You forget what I and the others of San Ramon have lived through in the past six months, Señor Creel. I assure you, there is nothing more improper than what that monster Davidson has done to my people.”
“You’re probably right about that.” Bo hitched the dun into motion again.
They rode through the streets of Juarez until they reached a good-sized adobe house with a red tile roof and a small courtyard behind a wrought-iron gate. Bo and Scratch brought their horses to a halt beside the gate, and Bo reached out to tug on a rope that rang a bell inside the house. A moment later a massive broad-shouldered man appeared at the gate, carrying a lantern.
“Howdy, Pepe,” Scratch said. “Still at your post, I see.”
“Señor Scratch!” the man greeted him with a big grin. “And Señor Bo. It is good to see you again. Too many years have passed since you have honored us with a visit.”
“And yet you remember us,” Bo said, smiling.
“Caramba! How could I forget, after all the…excitement…last time?”
“Now, that ruckus wasn’t our fault,” Scratch insisted. “We weren’t lookin’ for trouble when we came here that night. It just sorta followed us.”
Pepe nodded. “Sí, it often does, I hear.” He leaned to the side to look past Bo at Teresa Volquez. “What do you have there, Señor Bo? A present for Luz?”
“Not really. More like a guest.”
That brought a frown to Pepe’s round face. “This is not a
hotel, Señor Bo.”
“I know. But if we can talk to Luz, I think she’ll be willing to help us out.”
Pepe’s huge shoulders rose and fell in a shrug. “After the last time, she told me not to let the two of you in again. But then, just a few months ago, she was saying something about missing you, so I think it will be all right.”
Scratch chuckled. “Luz always was a mite sweet on me.”
“I would advise you not to let her hear you say that, Señor Scratch,” Pepe said as he took a large key from his pocket and unlocked the gate. He swung it back to let them ride inside the courtyard.
Bo glanced at the long shed on one side of the compound and saw that only a few horses waited there. “Not very busy tonight,” he commented.
“It is early yet,” Pepe said with another shrug. “Many men are still drinking or gambling. Their thoughts will not turn to women until later in the evening.”
Bo and Scratch swung down from their saddles. Bo turned to help Teresa dismount, but she slid off the back of the dun and landed lightly on her feet beside him before he could do anything.
In a low voice, she asked, “Is this a…house of ill repute?”
“You could say that,” Bo admitted, feeling a little embarrassed.
“Some folks feel that way,” Scratch added. “Me, I think its repute is just fine.”
Bo took Teresa’s arm. “Come on. We’ll introduce you to the lady who runs the place.”
She tried to pull away. “I will not be turned into a puta! If I wanted to do that, I could have stayed in San Ramon and let that bastard Gomez take me to the house he runs for Davidson’s men.”
“It’s not like that at all,” Bo insisted. “Like I told Pepe, if Luz is agreeable, you’ll stay here as a guest, as a favor to us, not as one of her girls.”
Teresa sniffed. “That is the only way I will stay.” She rested her hand on the butt of her gun, which Scratch had returned to her before they started to El Paso. “I mean that, Señor Creel.”
“I know you do. Believe me, I know you do.”
Bo steered her along a flagstone walk bordered with flower beds. Pepe led the way, and Scratch brought up the rear.
They went through a heavy, ornately carved wooden door and into a hallway lighted by candles in brass wall sconces that gleamed in the warm light. The corridor opened out into a large parlor with Navajo rugs on the floor and massive furniture. Brightly colored tapestries hung on the walls. Curtains made of loosely woven strings of beads hung over several arched doorways.
On one of the divans, two young women half sat, half reclined. They wore silk wrappers that clung to their bodies and left little to the imagination. One was dark, mostly Indian; the other fair-skinned, with long, thick hair the color of honey.
Both of them smiled at Bo and Scratch, then looked surprised and puzzled as they caught sight of Teresa. She was attractive and sensuous enough to fit right in at a place like this, but the mannish clothing she wore, along with the gunbelt, made it clear she was no soiled dove.
“This is Magdalena and Helen,” Pepe said as he nodded toward the two young women on the divan. “They were not with us the last time you were here.”
“Ladies,” Scratch said with a smile as he tugged politely on the brim of his cream-colored Stetson. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“I will get Luz,” Pepe said. He went over to a door and knocked on it. A voice came from the other side of the door, and Pepe said, “Visitors out here you should greet, Luz.”
She jerked the door open and stepped out, wearing a scowl on her face. Several inches shorter than Pepe but almost as broad, Luz Flores looked mighty formidable—formidable enough that Pepe moved back a step and appeared slightly nervous.
“What is this?” Luz demanded. “I was working on the books, and you know I don’t like to be interrupted—”
She stopped short as she caught sight of Bo and Scratch. A beaming smile flashed onto her face and she seemed like she was about to say something, but then she stopped herself and forced a scowl.
“You two loco gringos!” she said, practically spitting out the words. “I thought I told Pepe never to let you in here again.”
“We forced him to bring us to you, Luz,” Bo said, not wanting to get Pepe in any more trouble than was necessary. “So don’t hold it against him.”
Luz snorted. “Nobody could force that big bull to do something he didn’t want to do. Why are you here?” She frowned at Teresa. “Who is this? You hope to appease my anger over what happened last time you were here by bringing me a new girl?”
Bo saw fury flash in Teresa’s eyes. Before she could say anything, he replied quickly, “No, we’re here because we need your help. This is Señorita Teresa Volquez, from the village of San Ramon.”
Luz nodded, clearly interested even though she didn’t want to admit it. “I have heard of this place. It is down in the foothills at the edge of the mountains.”
“That’s right,” Bo said. “Near a place called Cañon del Despiadado.”
“Cutthroat Canyon. I have heard of it as well. Why is she dressed like a man and toting iron, as you gringos would put it?”
“Because there’s been trouble down there, a lot of trouble. Señorita Volquez has been trying to put a stop to it. Scratch and I are going to help her, but we need a place for her to stay for a while. A safe place. We thought of you.”
“Actually, I’m the one who suggested it,” Scratch added with a grin. “I’ve never forgot the other times I was here, Luz. Nor that time when you and I—”
She stopped him with a slashing motion of her hand. “Enough! Why would I wish to do the two of you any sort of favor? You come in here, you shoot up my place, you upset my girls—”
“That shooting wasn’t our fault,” Bo said. “We didn’t know those fellas who had a grudge against us had followed us here. Anyway, everybody in Juarez knows that such things aren’t allowed in Luz’s place. They were to blame for the ruckus, not us.”
Again, Luz looked doubtful. “I have a feeling you make that claim quite often, Señor Bo.”
Teresa said, “If she doesn’t want to help us, let’s go. I don’t want to stay here anyway.”
“You think we are not good enough for your presence?” Luz demanded. Now her dark eyes were the ones glittering with anger.
“That ain’t what she said—” Scratch began.
“Listen,” Bo said, “we’ll tell you all about it as soon as we know that Señorita Volquez is safe. There are some men in El Paso who might try to kill her if they knew the whole story.”
“Then why don’t you tell it to us, Creel?” a hard voice said from behind them. “And don’t reach for those guns, because we got you covered, damn it!”
CHAPTER 13
Neither Bo nor Scratch said anything for a moment. Then, Scratch drawled, “I don’t know about you, but I’m gettin’ sort of tired of folks sneakin’ up behind and pointin’ guns at us.”
“Yeah,” Bo said. “It gets old in a hurry.”
Both of them had recognized Jackman’s voice. Turning slowly and keeping their hands in plain sight, they saw the hired gun standing just behind one of the beaded curtains. The barrel of his revolver stuck out between two strands of beads. Tragg was with him—no surprise there—standing just behind and to one side of Jackman. He had his gun drawn as well.
Bo put a smile on his face. He figured that the two men had overheard too much to be fooled now, but he gave it a try anyway. “Good to see you boys,” he said. “I was hoping we’d catch up to you in El Paso, but I didn’t figure it would be in Juarez.”
With a clicking and clattering of beads, Jackman pushed into the room. Tragg followed right behind him.
“You can forget about those buffalo chips you’re tryin’ to sell us,” Jackman snapped. “We heard what you said. That gal was in with the bandits, and you’ve gone over to her side now. I didn’t expect a double cross like that from somebody who looks as much like a preacher as you d
o.” He sneered. “Why’d you decide to betray Davidson, Creel? Because of the girl…or the gold?”
“I don’t consider it a double cross when Davidson didn’t tell us the truth to start with,” Bo said. “If you want to hear about it, we can tell you what’s really going on down there.”
“Sure, that’s what I said before. You go ahead and tell us.”
The sneer on Jackman’s face made it clear, though, that it wouldn’t really matter what Bo said.
“Davidson killed the legal owner of that mine, a Mexican named Don Hernando Alviso,” Bo explained. Teresa had told them the man’s full name during the ride to El Paso. “He’s been murdering anybody who stands up to him and ruling the others through fear. I’m pretty sure he murdered one of the miners who got in an argument with a foreman the day we reached Cutthroat Canyon. We all heard the shot.”
“He said he killed a rattlesnake,” Tragg said.
Teresa couldn’t hold her emotions in. “A lie!” she burst out. “We heard about what happened. One of the men Davidson forces to work in the mine asked for compassion for an old man who had collapsed and could no longer work. The foreman kicked the old man, and the one who had begged for mercy lost his temper and struck the foreman. Some of the guards grabbed him and held him until Davidson got there and…and shot him in the head.”
“We weren’t there to see it happen,” Jackman said. “All we got is the word of some greaser slut. I’ll trust the word of the man who puts money in my pocket.”
“Damn right,” Tragg added.
The tension in the room had grown thicker, but since Tragg and Jackman were the only ones with guns in their hands, they still had control of the situation—for the moment. Jackman gestured with his iron and said, “Go on, Creel. We’re still listenin’.”
“Davidson’s posted a sharpshooter in the bell tower of the church in San Ramon,” Bo said. “The fella has a high-powered rifle and a pair of field glasses. He guards the passes in and out of the valley and acts as another of Davidson’s enforcers if any of the people there get out of line.”
Sidewinders:#3: Cutthroat Canyon Page 9
