“The Major needs you to go out again and scout, and take Walker with you.”
“Why take Walker?”
“You want to take someone else?”
“I did not mean that,” the breed said. “Why do I need to take anyone?”
“Seaforth wants two sets of eyes out there.”
Sequoia shrugged.
“He is in command.”
“Yes, he is,” Garfield said.
“When does he wish us to go out?”
“Finish your beer first.”
Sequoia nodded.
Garfield finished his beer, stood up, and left.
* * *
* * *
Somethin’s happenin’,” Curly called down to them, before Taco could leave.
Jake hurried up the hill, took the spyglass away from Curly.
“One man went into a building. He came out, then two more came out and went to the stable.”
Jake nodded, trained the spyglass on the stable. Before long, two men came riding out, and headed out of town. One of them was the breed.
“Okay,” he said, giving the glass back to Curly. “Keep watchin’.”
He went back down the hill.
“Taco, the breed just left town with another man,” Jake said. “That should make it easier for you to get in and out. Just take a quick look around, get a head count, and then get back up here. We’ll wait.”
“As you wish, amigo,” Taco said, mounting up. “I will see you soon.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Taco rode as close to town as he dared, then dismounted, tied his horse to a stand of bushes, and went the rest of the way on foot.
He made his way to the rear of the general store, without going through town. Instead, he carefully snuck behind the buildings.
When he reached the livery he moved to a single rear door and pressed his back to it. There was a corral behind the stable, but it was empty. If the raiders were there, all their mounts were inside.
He tried the door, found it unlocked, and slipped inside. By the light from the two open front doors, he could see all the horses in their stalls. He doubted Seaforth was permitting any of the locals to keep their animals there. When he counted a dozen plus the breed scout and the man who had ridden out with him, Seaforth’s Raiders was now made up of fourteen men.
As he started to back out the rear door, he felt something poke him between his shoulder blades.
* * *
* * *
Garfield watched as Sequoia and Walker rode out of town, and then—for some reason—he decided to walk around town, which was as quiet as ever. He just had a feeling he should stay on the street. In the past, gut feelings like that had proven helpful to him, so there was no point in going against it now.
He walked down the street on one side, then crossed over and headed up the street, toward the livery stable.
* * *
* * *
Shit!” Curly said, because from his vantage point, he could see both men. Taco was heading for the back of the livery stable while the other man was heading for the front.
“Jake!” he called down the hill. “You better get up here.”
Both Jake and Dundee scampered up the hill because of the tone of Curly’s voice.
As Jake reached the top he took the spyglass from Curly.
“See ’em?” Curly asked.
“Yeah, I see ’em,” Jake said. “Damn, I told Taco to be careful.”
“Looks to me like he’s bein’ careful,” Curly said. “He left his horse behind, and he stayed behind the buildings until he reached the livery. I don’t know what the hell that other feller’s doin’.”
Jake trained the spyglass on the other man, and recognized him.
“That’s Seaforth’s right-hand man,” he said.
“Yeah, but what’s he doin’ on the street?” Dundee asked.
“Bein’ careful,” Jake said.
As they watched, Taco opened the back door of the livery and went in. All they could do was wait and see what happened.
* * *
* * *
Garfield was approaching the livery when something flashed in the corner of his eye. Quickly, he walked to the front of the livery and peered in. He didn’t see anyone, but he did see the back door open and close.
He left the front, circled around to the back door, and waited there.
* * *
* * *
Taco immediately knew it was a gun barrel. He raised his hands.
“Tómalo con calma, señor, por favor,” Taco said.
“I’ll take it easy when you ease your gun out of your belt and hand it back to me . . . señor.”
“Of course, señor.” Taco did as he was told and handed his pistol back. He thought he knew which man was behind him. He knew, during the gun battle over the herd, that he had gotten a good look at Seaforth’s segundo. What he didn’t know was whether or not the man had gotten a good look at him.
The gun barrel disappeared from his back as the man stepped away.
“Okay, turn around, but keep your hands raised.”
Taco turned, saw the man he was expecting, holding a gun on him. His own gun was in the man’s belt.
“Are you here with Big Jake?” the man asked.
“Señor?” Taco frowned. “Who is this Big Jake? I am here alone.”
“To do what?”
Taco shrugged and said, “You will forgive me, señor, but I am afraid I was looking to steal.”
“You admit that?”
“Señor,” Taco said, “you are holding my life in your hands. What good would lying do?”
“I don’t know,” the other man said, “but I’m going to take you to talk to someone and we’ll find out.”
* * *
* * *
What do we do?” Dundee asked as they watched the man march Taco through the street at gunpoint.
“Relax,” Jake said, even though he was anything but, “he’s takin’ him to see Seaforth.”
“They’ll kill ’im for sure,” Dundee said. “We gotta get down there.”
“It’d take too long,” Jake said. “We’ve gotta hope they don’t recognize him.”
“We gotta do somethin’!” Dundee insisted.
Jake looked at him.
“Can you throw a stick of dynamite that far from here?” he asked.
“Wha—hell, no!”
“Then calm down,” Jake said. “Like I said, all we can do is wait.”
Jake put the spyglass to his eye again, watched as Seaforth’s second in command walked Taco into a building, probably a saloon.
* * *
* * *
Seaforth looked up from his table as the batwing doors swung open and Garfield entered with a Mexican at gunpoint.
“What do we have here?” Seaforth asked.
“I caught this Mex sneaking into the livery stable, Sea,” Garfield said.
“Did he say what he was doing there?”
“Yep,” Garfield said, “he says he was looking for something to steal.”
“Is that right?” Seaforth looked at Taco. “Are you here with Big Jake Motley?”
“Señor,” Taco said, “I do not know this man. I am here alone. I was hungry, and I was looking for something I could steal and trade for some food. Por favor, I am sorry. Please do not kill me for being hungry.”
Seaforth looked at Garfield.
“You recognize him?” he asked.
“No.”
Seaforth then looked at Taco.
“Sit down, Mex.”
Taco sat across from Seaforth.
“What do you want to do with him, Sea?” Garfield asked.
“There’s only two other men who were with
us when we hit the herd,” Seaforth said. “You and I don’t recognize this man. Maybe Walker or Sequoia will.”
“So you want to hold him until they come back?”
“Right.”
“Where?”
“Let him sit right there,” Seaforth said. “I’ll have the bartender give him something to eat while we wait.”
“Why are you going to feed him?” Garfield asked.
Seaforth looked Taco right in the eye and said, “I’d hate to have a man die on an empty stomach.”
* * *
* * *
Jake, Curly, and Dundee waited with bated breath to hear a shot from down below.
“Maybe we can’t hear it from here,” Curly said.
“I think we’re close enough to hear a shot,” Jake said.
“Then what’s goin’ on?” Dundee wondered.
“Obviously,” Jake said, “neither of them recognizes Taco as bein’ with us.”
“Somebody else might,” Curly said.
“The breed might,” Jake said, “but he’s not in town right now.”
“So they’re gonna hold Taco until the breed comes back?” Curly said.
“That gives us time to get him out,” Dundee said.
“There could be a dozen or more men down there,” Jake reminded them.
“Taco went to find out just how many men there were,” Dundee pointed out, “and he got caught.”
“Jake,” Curly said, “we gotta get ’im out.”
“The town’s quiet,” Jake said, “there’s nobody on the street, and now that they’ve got Taco, their attention is on him.”
“Yeah?” Dundee said. “And all that means . . . what?”
Jake looked at Dundee and Curly.
“All that means, let’s go get ’im outta there.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Jake, Dundee, and Curly slid back down the hill and put their heads together.
“I don’t think we can help it,” Dundee said. “The town’s gotta take some damage.”
“We don’t know where all the men are,” Jake said.
“Gotta be in a saloon,” Curly said. “That’s where I’d be sittin’ if I was waitin’ for my boss to make a decision.”
“Well,” Jake said, “from the short time we were there I only remember two saloons.”
“So which one are they in?” Dundee asked.
“I’m gonna guess Seaforth’s man took Taco into that saloon to see the Major.”
“And what about the other men?” Curly asked.
“I’m gonna say that Seaforth is too arrogant to drink in the same saloon as his men,” Jake said. “So whichever one he’s in, they’ll be in the other one.”
“We can’t be sure of that,” Dundee said.
“Well,” Jake said, “that’s what we’re gonna find out first.”
* * *
* * *
Taco ate the food the bartender supplied for him, washed it down with a mug of beer.
“You were pretty hungry,” Seaforth said.
“I told you, señor,” Taco said. “I have not eaten in some time. Gracias for this.” Taco pushed the empty plate away.
“Now that you’ve been fed,” Seaforth said, “do you want to change your story?”
“My story, señor?”
Seaforth looked over at the bar, where Garfield was standing and watching, working on a beer.
“Yes,” Seaforth said, “about coming here to steal.”
“But, señor,” Taco said, “that is why I came here. I saw the town was so quiet, I thought I could come in and get out quickly.”
“Where’s your horse?” Seaforth asked.
“Just outside of town,” Taco said. “A few hundred yards from the livery.”
“I can have somebody go out and get it,” Garfield offered.
“Not yet,” Seaforth said. “Let’s talk a little longer.”
“About what?” Taco asked.
“About who you are,” Seaforth said, “and what you do.”
“My name is Taco,” he said, “and I steal.”
“But you must be able to do more than steal,” Seaforth said. “For instance, can you work with cattle?”
“Cattle? Oh, you want to know if I am a vaquero. No, no, I am afraid not. I do not know anything about cows.”
“Can you ride? Shoot?”
“Oh, sí, I can do both of those things.” Taco raised his eyebrows. “Ah, you would like to recruit me into your gang?”
“We’re not a gang,” Seaforth said. “I’m Major Seaforth, and my men are Seaforth’s Raiders. Have you heard of us?”
“Oh, sí, sí, I have,” Taco said. “You have a reputation as a muy malo man.”
“Muy malo?” Seaforth asked.
“A bad man,” Garfield said.
“Sí,” Taco said, “I do not mean to offend you, but—”
“No, no,” Seaforth said, “they’re right. I am a bad man. You would do well to remember that.”
“Sí, señor, I will. But . . . if you are trying to recruit me . . .” He smiled broadly and spread his arms. “. . . I accept.”
“Nobody’s trying to recruit you—” Garfield started.
“Wait, Gar,” Seaforth said. “We can always use a good man, right? Let’s not be hasty.”
Garfield gave Seaforth a puzzled look, but remained silent.
“And you are a good man, right, Taco?” Seaforth asked.
“Oh, sí, señor,” Taco said. “Muy bien.”
“See, there you go,” Seaforth said to Garfield, then looked at Taco again, his face growing stern. “But first we’ll wait for our other two men to get here. They were with us when we tried to take that herd. Let’s see if either one of them remembers you.”
“Herd, señor?”
“Don’t worry about it, my friend,” Seaforth said, waving to the bartender. “Have another beer.”
* * *
* * *
Jake, Dundee, and Curly approached the town on foot, having left their horses several hundred yards away. Dundee had his saddlebags over his shoulder, one with dynamite in it, the other with fuses and blasting caps.
As they reached the last building Jake peered around it and had a good view of the main street. He could see both saloons, even though they were a full street apart.
“Get that dynamite ready to throw, Dundee,” Jake said.
“Right.”
Dundee crouched down, took the saddlebags off his shoulder, and opened both. Curly got as far from his friend as he could, while remaining under cover.
“Relax,” Dundee told his friend, “I know what I’m doin’.”
“You wanna put some distance between you and your friend?” Jake asked Curly.
“I sure do!”
“Work your way down to that far saloon, see if you can get a look inside from the rear. Then come back and do the same for the closer saloon. And don’t take long.”
“What do I do if you fellas blow yourselves up?” Curly asked.
“If that happens you’re on your own, Curly,” Jake said. “You can do whatever you want.”
“I’ll be back,” Curly said, and lit out.
“He better not get spotted,” Jake said.
“He won’t,” Dundee said, sliding fuses into a couple of sticks of dynamite. “How many of these are we gonna need?” he asked.
“Two or three should do it,” Jake said. “The only problem is . . .”
“Yeah?”
“You’re probably gonna have to toss them in from the front.”
“As long as the street’s empty, what’s the difference?” Dundee asked.
“Okay, then,” Jake said. “Get ready. We’ll move as soon as Curly gets back.”
* * *
* * *
Garfield finished his beer, put the empty mug down on the bar, and headed for the door.
“Where you going, Gar?” Major Seaforth asked.
“Just checking the street again.”
“Go back to the bar and relax,” the Major said. “We have a guest here who may need some attention.”
Taco had been trying his best to appear both puzzled and relaxed, but all the while his mind was racing, looking for a way out of this situation. He knew Big Jake must’ve been watching through his spyglass, so on one hand he thought all he needed to do was sit and wait for his amigo to make a move to get him out of this mess.
Then again, would Jake think that he could get himself out of this, and simply wait?
“Another beer?” Seaforth asked.
“No, thank you, señor,” Taco said. “I was thinking perhaps I could go and get my horse? I would come right back.”
“You would, huh?”
“Oh, sí, señor.”
“Well,” Seaforth said, “you just sit tight. As soon as my other two men get back, we’ll know what we’re going to do with you—recruit you, or kill you.”
* * *
* * *
When Curly got back he said, “The far saloon is called the Red Cherry Saloon. Why, I don’t know. What other colors are cherries?”
“Green,” Dundee said.
“Never mind the cherries!” Jake snapped. “How many men in that one?”
“Twelve,” Curly said. “They’re sittin’ around, drinkin’. Looks like they’re waitin’.”
“And the other saloon?”
“Called the Sunrise,” Curly said. “Taco’s in there, sittin’ with that Major. And the other man is at the bar.”
“That’s it?” Jake asked.
“Except for the bartender, that’s it.”
“Bartenders!” Dundee said. “They do one of two things when the shootin’ starts. Duck down behind the bar, or bring out a shotgun.”
“We’ll keep a watch on this one,” Jake said. “Now here’s what we’re gonna do . . .”
Ralph Compton Big Jake's Last Drive Page 19
