“We’ll be here pronto,” said Klady. “When all this dynamite blows, I reckon all them soldados will have to get off their hunkers and look busy.”
“Light them fuses,” Canton said, “and count to three. From there you got no more than seven seconds before the dynamite blows.”
The four rode away, and Jarvis sighed. It would be a long ride north to the border.
When Tamara and Renita reached the Sandlin place, Empty remained well away from the house. Boldly, Tamara tried the key, and the massive front door didn’t budge. Renita followed her around to the back door, where they encountered the same dismal failure. They crept around to the far side, where there was a door that led from the mansion to the carriage house. Despite her show of confidence, Tamara was nervous. She dropped the key, and it was still dark enough that she had trouble finding it. Muttering some choice words in Spanish, she recovered the key. It turned easily, and the door opened soundlessly. Tamara allowed Renita to enter and then, stepping inside, closed the door behind her. A short corridor led to a second door, which was closed.
“I feel like our luck is running out,” Renita whispered.
“Perhaps,” said Tamara softly, “but this is our last chance. We must enter that door, if we are to search the rest of the house.”
Tamara had barely touched the door handle when the door swung open. Both women froze when a cold voice spoke.
“Come in. I have been expecting you. You can’t see me, but I can see both of you, and you’re covered. Don’t do anything foolish, and you shall live a few minutes longer.”
Only when their eyes became accustomed to the gloom could Tamara and Renita see the person speaking to them. They were looking into the ugly snout of a sawed-off shotgun, but more startling was the face belonging to the deep, cold voice.
“My God,” Renita cried, “you’re a ... a woman.”
“Yes. I am Cord Sandlin. Cordelia, if you prefer.”
She stood up, dressed in a flat-crowned black Stetson, black embroidered jacket, and divided riding skirt. Black riding boots completed her attire. She beckoned with the shotgun toward the stairs.
“Where are you taking us?” Tamara asked.
“To a room upstairs I have prepared for you,” said Sandlin. “I suspected you, and left the key where you could find it. Now the two of you are going to pay the price for your part in the destruction of my Border Empire. Move.”
Slowly Tamara started up the stairs, Renita following. Sandlin stayed just far enough behind that Renita couldn’t turn and seize the shotgun. It was now light enough that they could see without difficulty. There was a room near the head of the stairs, and the door stood open.
“In there,” Sandlin ordered.
Tamara and Renita entered and then turned to face their captor.
“You will never leave Mexico alive,” said Tamara angrily.
Sandlin laughed. “Do you not believe that I have expected this moment and prepared for it? Beneath these stairs we just climbed, there is a vat of coal oil to which is attached a slow-burning fuse. I will lock the door to this room, and when I am safely away, the house will burn. Need I say more?”
“You heartless bitch,” Renita shouted, “may you burn in hell.”
“Perhaps,” said Sandlin, without emotion, “but the two of you will burn first.”
Sandlin stepped out, closed the door and, using a key, locked it. On a table near the head of the stairs stood a lamp. It had been filled with coal oil for this very occasion, and Cordelia Sandlin raised the globe and lit it. The basement beneath the house, and the tunnel that would lead her to safety, would be dark, and the lamp would be necessary.
“Come on,” said Klady as he and his three companions approached the mansion from the rear. “Let’s be done with this. I’ll take a window back here. The rest of you pick one on the front and sides.”
“We all throw at the same time,” Tafolla said. “One of us will have to signal.”
“Then shout when you’re ready,” said Klady. “The rest of us will throw at the sound of your voice.”
“Dear God,” said Renita, “there are bars on the window. There’s no way out.”
“We will have some time before the fire reaches us,” Tamara said. “We must find a way out of this room.”
She charged the door, hurling herself against it, but it held.
“Fire away,” Tafolla shouted, throwing his bundle of dynamite toward a window.
The four charges blew, but not quite together, each sounding like an echo of the last. Glass shattered in the windows, the foundation cracked, and sections of the lower wall fell away. Inside, Cordelia Sandlin had reached the foot of the stairs, and the concussion flung her senseless to the floor. The lamp shattered and flaming coal oil soaked the plush carpet. The flames spread quickly, getting ever closer to the supply of coal oil beneath the stairs. Their vengeance complete, the four riders galloped away as the wind sucked gusts of smoke through the broken windows of the Sandlin mansion.
Wes and El Lobo were in the barn, saddling their own horses and those of Tamara and Renita when the charges of dynamite exploded. They left the barn on the run, leading the two extra mounts.
“Por Dios,” El Lobo shouted. “It burns.”
Already the flames were licking out the lower windows of the Sandlin mansion. There was another minor explosion, and the flames roared higher. Within the house, Cordelia Sandlin came to her senses only to find herself surrounded by flames. She got to her knees, her clothing afire, and the heavy banister from the stairs collapsed on her. She screamed.
“My God,” Wes groaned, “Tamara and Renita are in there. One of them screamed.”
Wes and El Lobo rode around the house, seeking a means of entering, but there was no way. The lower portion of the house was in flames. Suddenly there was the sound of shattering glass. Wes and El Lobo looked up, into the frantic faces of Tamara and Renita, trapped behind the bars of the window.
“Hold on,” Wes shouted. “We’ll try to get you out through the roof.”
Seizing his lariat, Wes built a loop and dropped it over the chimney, which was still intact. El Lobo had already found the ax near the carriage house.
“I’m goin’ up,” said Wes “When I get up there, send up the ax. Then get the horses away from here.”
“But amigo ...”
But Wes was already struggling up the side of the burning house, praying the stone chimney wouldn’t crumble from the heat. El Lobo quickly looped the end of the rope about the handle of the ax, and the moment Wes reached the roof, he drew up the ax. Already the horses had begun to nicker and shy away from the flames. El Lobo seized the reins and led the animals away. He could see the terrified faces of Tamara and Renita at the window, and already tendrils of smoke swirled out of it.
“Wes be on the roof,” El Lobo shouted.
Wes tried to reach the portion of the roof above Tamara and Renita, for there might not be time enough to enter the second floor of the house and seek out the room.
“This way, amigo,” El Lobo shouted.
Frantically, Wes swung the ax. When he finally broke through the roof, he coughed and choked as smoke was whipped into his face.
“Wes,” Renita cried. “Wes.”
Desperately, she reached as high as she could, but he couldn’t get to her.
“There must be something you can stand on,” Wes shouted.
Dimly, he could see Tamara struggling to move a dresser or chest of drawers. Renita threw her strength to the task, and when they climbed onto the furniture, Wes was able to reach their hands. He lifted out Renita and then Tamara as flames swept into the room from which they had just escaped. There were shouts, and villagers stood across the road from the burning house, pointing to the rescued and the rescuer on the roof. Suddenly flames shot through the hole Wes had chopped in the roof.
“Come on,” he shouted.
They struggled across the roof to the chimney, and Wes made a loop in the loose end of the rope.
“Get that over your head and under your arms,” he ordered Tamara.
When she had done so, he lowered her over the edge of the roof. El Lobo was waiting for her. Quickly he slipped the rope over her head. Wes withdrew it and sent Renita over the edge. Once Renita was down, Wes slid down the rope. El Lobo had brought the horses as near as he dared to the burning house, and now he struggled to hold them. The others were already mounted, and as Wes swung into his saddle, the chimney collapsed. As they rode away, somebody shouted, and behind them there was a crash as the roof of the house fell in.
“You’re a pair of damn fools,” Wes said angrily when, miles away, they dared stop to rest the horses. “A few more minutes, and you’d have been goners.”
“We went after Sandlin,” said Tamara defiantly. “It was our last chance.”
“We learned something nobody else knew,” Renita said triumphantly. “Cord Sandlin was really Cordelia Sandlin, a woman.”
“Tarnation,” said Wes, “then the woman who left the house and returned was—”
“Sandlin,” Renita finished, “and she died in the fire she intended for us.”
“How do you know?” El Lobo wondered.
“When part of the house fell, we heard her scream,” said Tamara. “Somehow, she was caught in the fire.”
“However the fire started,” Wes said, “it might not have been her doing. While we were in the barn saddling the horses, there were four quick blasts that might have been dynamite.”
“Yes,” said Renita. “It shook the house, broke windows, and came just after Sandlin had locked us in that room. She would have had only enough time to get down the stairs, but no more.”
“The concussion might have knocked her out,” Wes said, “and if she happened to be carrying a lit lamp or lantern...”
“I wished her a place in hell,” Renita said, “but it was a terrible way to die.”
“We came to destroy the Sandlin gang,” said Wes, “and I reckon this closes the book, except for those varmints who threw the dynamite.”
“We did not kill Sandlin,” Tamara said, “but I do not feel cheated. It is fitting that Sandlin was destroyed by the remnants of the Sandlin gang.”
“Sí,” El Lobo agreed. “Now do we get out of Mexico alive?”
“We’ll have to ride careful,” said Wes. “I think we’d better find a place to hole up for the rest of the day, and do our riding at night. There can’t be much of that jerked beef left in our saddlebags.”
“Per’ap not,” said El Lobo, “but the box that talk to the telegraph wire still be there.”
Wes laughed. “Tarnation, I can’t believe the soldiers left that. Before we leave Mexico forever, I reckon—”
“El Diablos Pistolas will send one last message,” Renita finished.
“We must be careful, and not become overconfident,” said Tamara. “Those who set off the dynamite—the last of the Sandlin gang—may be somewhere ahead of us, or perhaps behind us.”
“If they’re smart, they’re ahead of us,” Wes said. “El Lobo and me had to rescue you and Renita from that burning house, so they had a head start.”
The four rode mostly at night, sharing the little jerked beef that remained. And true to his word, a hundred miles south of Juarez Wes climbed a telegraph pole. He sent a final, brief message.
Cordelia Sandlin is dead and El Diablos Pistolas say adios to Mexico.
Austin, Texas. September 7, 1884
Texas Ranger Bodie West slapped his thigh with his hat and roared.
“What’s got into you?” Dylan Stewart asked as he entered the office.
“Look at this,” said West. “By God, the kid did it.”
Stewart read a copy of the telegram and grinned.
“That ties in with the word from Toluca that the Sandlin house was destroyed,” West said, “but there was no mention of Wes.”
“You’d better telegraph Byron Silver,” said Stewart.
“I already did,” West replied. “He sails today, bound for Corpus Christi.”
El Paso, Texas. September 8, 1884
Wes took rooms at Granny Boudleaux’s boardinghouse for himself, Renita, El Lobo, and Tamara.
“Now,” Wes said, “I’m ridin’ to town to send a telegram to Ranger Bodie West in Austin. It won’t seem right, payin’ for my telegrams.”
Wes sent the telegram and waited for an answer. It arrived within minutes, and said:Come to Austin immediately stop. Twenty-one coming.
The message was unsigned.
“We’re ridin’ to Austin,” said Wes when he returned to Granny Boudleaux’s.
“For why?” Granny demanded. “You no give me time to get used to you not being dead. You get the drifting foot worse than your daddy.”
Austin, Texas. September 15, 1884
When Wes and his companions reached Austin, Silver was already there. West led the way to Silver’s hotel, and they met in his hotel room. Wes performed the introductions.
“Tamara and me, we have no home in Mexico,” El Lobo said.
“Any friends of Wes Stone’s are friends of mine,” said Silver. “Welcome to Texas and the United States of America. Walk on the right side of the law, and this will be home as long as you want to claim it.”
“Sí,” El Lobo said. “Remember the Alamo.”
“By God,” said West, “he’s a Texan already.”
“I’m glad you and Wes are amigos, Palo,” Silver said. “Because of what you have been able to accomplish in Mexico, there’s something I want to ask of you. Something akin to what I so often asked of your father, Wes.”
“Lay it on the table, then,” said Wes.
Silver dropped two coins on the table. One was a double eagle, the other a golden medallion. On one side was the head of a dragon, on the other, the number two.
“God Almighty,” Wes said.
“The dragon lives,” said El Lobo.
“I’m afraid so,” Silver said, “and if something isn’t done, this nation’s going broke. Do you see anything wrong with that double eagle?”
Wes felt the coin, dropped it on the table, and El Lobo repeated the procedure.
“It’s counterfeit,” said Silver. “It looks real, it rings true, but it’s worth only a few cents. Best we can tell, the damn things are being cast in New Orleans, Denver, Carson City, and San Francisco.”
“Those are all towns where there are U.S. mints,” Wes said.
“Yes,” said Silver, “and it’s a continual slap in the face. But the dragon is involved in other crimes, much the same as in Mexico. Here there is one big difference. You will have the full cooperation of my office and the U.S. government. You won’t have to worry about soldiers threatening to have you executed. Will the two of you side me?”
Wes looked at Renita, while El Lobo turned to Tamara.
“I will not object, but I will not be left behind,” Tamara said.
“Nor I,” said Renita.
“I’ll be honest with you,” Silver said. “There will be times when Wes and Palo will be forced to work alone. That is the nature of this assignment. Can you accept that?”
“This is mine and Palo’s adopted country,” said Tamara. “We will do what must be done, accepting what must be accepted.”
“I can’t do any better than that,” Renita said.
“Then I’m buyin’ the steaks,” said Silver. “The biggest in Austin. Then we will seek a means of slaying this golden dragon once and for all.”
“Sí,” El Lobo said. “The bastardo have thick hide.”
“A writer in the tradition of Louis L’Amour
and Zane Grey!”
—Huntsville Times
National Bestselling Author RALPH COMPTON
NOWHERE, TEXAS
AUTUMN OF THE GUN
THE KILLING SEASON
THE DAWN OF FURY
BULLET CREEK
FOR THE BRAND
GUNS OF THE CANYONLANDS
RIO LARGO
DEADWOOD GULCH
A WOLF IN THE FOLD
TRAIL TO COTTONWOOD FALLS
BLUFF CITY
THE BLOODY TRAIL
WEST OF THE LAW
BLOOD DUEL
SHADOW OF THE GUN
DEATH OF A BAD MAN
RIDE THE HARD TRAIL
BLOOD ON THE GALLOWS
BULLET FOR A BAD MAN
THE CONVICT TRAIL
RAWHIDE FLAT
OUTLAW’S RECKONING
Available wherever books are sold or at penguin.com
GRITTY HISTORICAL ACTION FROM
USA TODAY BESTSELING AUTHOR
RALPH COTTON
GUNFIGHT AT COLD DEVIL
FAST GUNS OUT OF TEXAS
GUNS ON THE BORDER
KILLING TEXAS BOB
NIGHTFALL AT LITTLE ACES
AMBUSH AT SHADOW VALLEY
RIDE TO HELL’S GATE
GUNMEN OF THE DESERT SANDS
Available wherever books are sold or at
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No other series packs this much heat!
THE TRAILSMAN
#307: MONTANA MARAUDERS
#308: BORDER BRAVADOS
#309: CALIFORNIA CARNAGE
#310: ALASKAN VENGEANCE
#311: IDAHO IMPACT
#312: SHANGHAIED SIX-GUNS
#313: TEXAS TIMBER WAR
#314: NORTH COUNTRY CUTTTHROATS
#315: MISSOURI MANHUNT
#316: BEYOND SQUAW CREEK
#317: MOUNTAIN MYSTERY
#318: NEVADA NEMESIS
#319: LOUISIANA LAYDOWN
#320: OREGON OUTRAGE
#321: FLATHEAD FURY
#322: APACHE AMBUSH
#323: WYOMING DEATHTRAP
#324: CALIFORNIA CRACKDOWN
#325: SEMINOLE SHOWDOWN
The Border Empire Page 27
