by J. T. Edson
Although Dick did not know it, the man with the rifle had given away his intentions. Knowing him, his companion had expected some kind of action and was starting to swing the weapon towards Mannen Blaze. So, as soon as the big man had snatched the blunderbuss, Ole Devil and his cousin responded with a gun handling technique in which they had both acquired considerable proficiency.
With Mannen duplicating his moves at a slightly slower speed, Ole Devil’s right hand turned palm outwards and closed around the butt of the Manton pistol. To slide the weapon from its belt loop, he used a system which would eventually be developed into the ‘high cavalry twist’ draw. xxxv However, unlike the gunfighters who were to use it in the years following the War Between the States, his sequence of firing could not be performed with a single hand. Instead, he used the heel of his left palm and not the right thumb to cock the hammer.
Before Dick’s right hand could enfold the wrist of the blunderbuss’s butt or his forefinger coil across its trigger, Ole Devil’s pistol had turned towards him. Fired at waist level and by instinctive alignment, the .54 caliber ball flew almost as accurately as if it had been aimed in the formal and accepted manner. Struck between the eyes, Dick went backward. He tripped over the dead horse and the blunderbuss somersaulted from his grasp as he fell. Not a second later, his heart ripped open by Mannen’s lead, the man with the rifle was following his companion down.
Whipping the longer tachi of his daisho—matched pair of swords—from the sheath on his belt’s slings, xxxvi Tommy bounded forward as the shots roared out. Having expected trouble, Wylie was bending to retrieve his knife. In view of what had happened to his two companions and seeing the ‘Indian’ approaching armed with a long and clearly very sharp sword, he put all thoughts of fighting from his mind. Instead, he dived in the direction of his horse.
Neither Ernie nor Cocky showed any greater determination to stand their ground. The former had been rising during the conversation. While still not fully recovered from the effects of his landing on the ground, he was able to achieve a fair speed as he dashed towards their horses. Spinning around, Cocky bounded over Serrano’s dead mount and joined the other two in fleeing.
‘Let them go, Tommy!’ Ole Devil called as the little Oriental went after the trio. ‘Catch one of the horses if you can.’
Such was the eagerness of the three men to depart that they ignored the mounts of their dead companions. Gathering up their reins, they swung on to the saddles and set their horses into motion. Although the other two animals were disturbed by the commotion, they did not attempt to bolt. Both moved off, but soon came to a halt because of their training to stand still when their reins were dangling free. Returning the thirty-inch blade of his tachi to its sheath, Tommy had no difficulty in catching and leading the two horses back to where Ole Devil and Mannen were helping Serrano to free himself.
On being liberated, Serrano found that his leg was not injured in any way. He thanked and exchanged introductions with his rescuers. Once again, Ole Devil saw no reason to conceal his identity. He guessed that the young Mexican had escaped from the Battle of San Jacinto and had no connection with the Tamaulipa Brigade. However, to be on the safe side, he planned to give the other the impression that his party were engaged on a scouting mission in the direction of San Antonio de Bexar.
‘I thought they might be,’ Ole Devil admitted, when informed that Serrano’s attackers had claimed to be renegades working for Santa Anna. He was relieved to know that the men who had been killed were not loyal, if misguided, Texians. ‘The war’s over, senor. El Fresidente’s in our hands, along with most of his generals. What do you intend to do now?’
‘I was going home,’ the lieutenant replied, impressed by the Texian’s command of Spanish. ‘But I’m in your hands.’
‘Do I have your word that you’ll go straight there and not take any further military action against the Republic of Texas?’
‘You have it, senor.’
‘Then you can take one of those horses and go. Aren’t you armed?’
‘I lost my weapons at San Jacinto,’ Serrano confessed, but made no mention of Bowie’s knife for the same reason that he had kept it hidden. ‘It was my own fault—’
‘Help yourself to one of their pistols and anything else you might need,’ Ole Devil offered, wanting to be on his way.
‘Gracias, senor,’ Serrano said and held out his right hand. ‘Thank you, Diablo Viejo. I owe you my life.’
As the two young men shook hands, each knew that a debt had been incurred. If at any time in the future, Ole Devil chose to ask for something in return, he felt sure that Arsenio Serrano would give it without hesitation. xxxvii
Chapter Eight – Don’t Make Me Kill You
Although business was far from flourishing since Presidente Antonio Lopez de Santa Anna had marched north to the Rio Bravo with his army, Luis Pandrosa— owner of the Posada del Madonna—was still critical of his only customers. They were not troublesome in any way, nor had they complained when asked to pay the somewhat higher than usual rate that he requested in advance. All of them gave the impression that they were used to being guests in inns as fine as any to be found outside Mexico City. For all that, and in spite of the prevailing conditions, they were not what he considered to be desirable company.
No matter how they were dressed, two of the guests were undoubtedly gringos and the third appeared to be some kind of an Indian. The slender man wearing the clothing of a caballero had produced a document on arrival which suggested that they had a right to be in Mexico, but Pandrosa had no way of knowing whether it was genuine or not. Being an efficient innkeeper rather than a warrior, he decided to accept the trio at their face value, and just hoped they would leave in the morning as they had claimed was their intention.
‘Our host’s acting kind of edgy, and has been since we got here,’ Mannen Blaze remarked languidly, after finishing a plate of the kind of pastel de cabrito xxxviii upon which Pandrosa had founded a well deserved reputation among regular travelers along the trail between Monterrey and Matamoros. ‘Could be that pass of ours isn’t going to work.’
‘I shouldn’t think it’s likely he’s ever seen el Presidente’s signature,’ Ole Devil Hardin replied, leaning contentedly back in his chair. ‘Anyway, it’s not him that our pass will have to satisfy.’
Before setting off on their mission, the three young men had learned all they could about General José Urrea. Most of their information had been supplied by Santa Anna, who had proved most cooperative when informed by General Samuel Houston of what they hoped to achieve. Clearly he too appreciated the threat to himself and was willing to support any steps taken to remove it.
In addition to telling them a great deal about Urrea, including where he could most likely be found, el Presidente had supplied Ole Devil and Mannen with the type of passes that had been given to various important renegades as a means of identification and protection. Having already used such a document when going to collect the consignment of ‘caplock’—percussion-fired— rifles which had done much to turn the tide of the Battle of San Jacinto in the otherwise outnumbered Texians’ favour, Ole Devil was satisfied that the passes would be considered genuine.
The most debatable point, as the young Texian realized, was whether the documents would keep them alive long enough for him to be able to convince Urrea that he and his companions would be worth employing.
Parting company with Serrano, Ole Devil and his friends had continued their journey. Once south of the Rio Grande they had taken care to avoid coming into contact with the local population. They had a supply of food together with other supplies on a packhorse that had been left in hiding when they fought the renegades. Two days’ travelling had seen them on the trail between Monterrey and Matamoros. So Ole Devil had decided that they would visit the Posada del Madonna in search of information. The hacienda owned by Urrea lay about twenty miles to the southwest of the inn and, if he was there, the owner ought to know. The young Texian had not yet
broached the subject with Pandrosa, but he intended to do so before their morning departure.
Hooves drummed, leather creaked and wheels rumbled on the trail coming from the east. The three vengeance seekers turned their attention to the appropriate window of the dining room. In a short time they saw riders and a coach coming to a halt outside. While they could make out only a few details, one thing was certain. The horsemen were wearing uniforms, which meant they were soldiers of some kind.
Soldiers so far south of the Rio Grande were certain to be members of the Mexican Army!
‘Could be we’ll find out how good the passes are real soon,’ Ole Devil commented, watching Pandrosa throw a worried look in their direction before scuttling out of the dining room.
A voice gave the order for the horses to be attended to. Soon after, footsteps sounded in the reception hall. In his haste, Pandrosa had not closed the door behind him and the trio at the table heard the same speaker demanding the two best rooms for the night. As they were occupying what Pandrosa had assured them were his finest quarters, Ole Devil and Mannen exchanged glances. Although the innkeeper’s reply was too quiet for them to make out what he said, they guessed he was mentioning that point to the newcomer.
‘Gringos, here!’ barked the first speaker, showing none of his informant’s care to avoid being overheard. ‘What do they want?’
‘They didn’t tell me, senor, but—!’ Pandrosa began, meaning to mention the documents which he had been shown by his Anglo-Saxon guests.
‘Then, by the Holy Mother, they’ll tell me!’ the hard-voiced newcomer declared and the bombast in his tones suggested to Ole Devil that he was trying to impress somebody. His next words provided a clue as to who it might be. ‘Don’t worry, Bea—Senora Alvarez, I’ll soon have it sorted out and settled.’
Without giving the person he had addressed an opportunity to reply, the speaker walked towards the dining room door. He had the heavy step of one completely confident of his ability to handle whatever situation might arise. Or perhaps it was that he wanted to convince his audience of his ability.
The man who came through the door proved to be tall, swarthily handsome and clad in the uniform of a captain in the Tamaulipa Lancers. With his right hand resting on the hilt of his saber, he swaggered forward exuding either real or assumed toughness and arrogance.
Lighter footsteps caused Ole Devil and his companions to look past the captain. A woman had followed him from the entrance hall and she now halted just inside the door. Despite the fact that she was clad in a broad brimmed black hat and a matching two piece costume that was suitable for travelling but did little to flatter her figure, she gave the impression of being exceedingly curvaceous. About five foot eight inches in height, black haired, her stately beauty seemed to radiate a brilliance that would make most members of her sex feel inferior. Her languorous dark eyes went from Mannen to Tommy, then came to rest on Ole Devil. Returning her scrutiny, he could see how—despite her marital status—the Mexican officer might be eager to earn her approbation.
‘What’re you doing here, gringos?’ Captain Escalier demanded as he came to a stop about six foot from the table.
‘Waiting for coffee so that I can go to bed,’ Ole Devil replied in an off-hand manner that implied he did not think his interrogator was of any great importance.
Sitting in a slumped manner, as if half asleep, although in actual fact tense and ready to take any action that might become necessary, Mannen waited to find out how Ole Devil wanted him to behave. He expected his cousin to produce Santa Anna’s passes and introduce himself and his companions by the names on the documents. It might act as a means of establishing a more cordial relationship. So the events that followed came as something of a surprise.
‘Get up and put your weapons on the table!’ Escalier snapped, stiffening as if the slender young Texian had struck him across the face.
‘Why?’ Ole Devil wanted to know, refraining from looking at the woman although he sensed that his eyes were on him.
‘Because I’m arresting you as spies!’ Escalier explained, starting to tug on the hilt of his saber. ‘Get up, or—’
Neither the movement nor the threat was completed.
Rising, bending, and turning his right elbow outwards, Ole Devil gripped the butt of the Manton pistol. One of the advantages gained by wearing a handgun in that fashion was that it could be drawn with considerable ease while sitting down. Twisting the weapon from the belt’s loop, he swiveled its barrel to point across the table. As he did so, his left hand operated the hammer.
Much to his surprise, Escalier found himself staring into the muzzle of the pistol and its bore seemed much larger than the actual .54 of an inch. The clicking of the hammer being brought to fully cocked reached his ears. So swiftly had the move been made that his saber was still no more than half way out of its sheath. Even if it had been drawn he realized that the speed with which the Texian had armed himself would have ruled out any chance of it being used.
‘I don’t think you are,’ Ole Devil contradicted.
‘I’ve a dozen men outside—!’ Escalier started to warn, doubling the size of his escort instead of calling for them to come and help him as was his instinctive desire.
‘And you’ve only one life, so you’d better let them stay there,’ Ole Devil interrupted, making a point that the captain had already considered. ‘They couldn’t come and do anything quickly enough to stop me shooting you. Not that I’d want it to go that far—’
‘The devil—!’ Escalier spluttered, almost beside himself with mortification at being placed in such a position with Beatriz Alvarez present.
‘Don’t make me kill you, captain!’ Ole Devil requested, making a small yet very menacing gesture with his pistol as the Mexican officer’s face grew angry indicating that he might be on the point of making some kind of aggressive action. ‘General Urrea might not care for me doing that.’
‘Would that bother you, senor?’ asked the woman by the door.
‘I’ve always found that it’s a bad policy to antagonize a man who I hope will hire me, senora,’ Ole Devil replied, glancing across the room. However, the pistol never wavered from its alignment and his gaze returned to Escalier before any advantage could be taken from the pause.
‘In that case, senor,’ the woman said, starting to walk forward. ‘I don’t think there’s any further need for your pistol.’
‘With all respect, gracious senora,’ Ole Devil countered in a firmly polite tone, feeling confident that he had been correct in the way he had decided to handle the situation. ‘I’d say that depends on how the captain feels about it.’
Hearing the name used by Escalier, the young Texian had remembered something that Santa Anna had told him. The presence of an officer belonging to the Tamaulipa Lancers enabled him to make a guess at the woman’s identity. If he was correct, she must be Beatriz Alvarez. The wife of the Tamaulipa Brigade’s Paymaster was, according to el Presidente, a person with considerable influence on Urrea. The captain’s attitude, and the way in which she had acted when entering the room supplied Ole Devil with a clue on which he had based his behavior.
As was her invariable habit when first coming into contact with men, Beatriz Alvarez had studied the trio at the table with a view of how useful they might be to her. She had dismissed Mannen and Tommy as underlings and so of no great consequence. However, Ole Devil struck her as being entirely a different proposition.
Due to having left his hat in the room he had rented, the young Texian was bareheaded. To prevent attracting attention which might suggest his true identity, he had shaved off his moustache and beard. He had also had his hair cut short, removing the horn effects which he had developed as a joke to emphasize the Mephistophelian appearance that went with his nickname. For all that, his face had a sardonic hardness which the woman found interesting. It suggested that he was a person worth cultivating. A trifle hot headed, perhaps, but capable of taking care of himself in a most effective way.
<
br /> With the latter in mind, Beatriz decided to act as peacemaker. She had no wish to see Escalier killed because of his stupid pride and a desire to impress her. Not that she cared particularly about his death. She had already summed up his character and concluded that he would never amount to anything worthy of her attentions.
‘I think you may have acted hastily, Alphonso,’ the woman declared. ‘It’s not likely that these gentlemen would be sitting here so openly, knowing you had arrived, if they were spies.’
‘Then why are they here?’ Escalier asked sullenly, allowing his saber’s blade to sink back into its sheath.
‘Perhaps you would care to explain, senor?’ Beatriz suggested, when the young Texian did not offer to do so.
‘Like I said, senora,’ Ole Devil answered, returning the hammer to half cock and replacing the pistol in its belt-loop. He came to his feet, making it plain that he was addressing the woman. ‘We’re going to see General Urrea.’
‘Why?’ Beatriz challenged.
‘I believe that he can use good fighting men,’ Ole Devil explained. ‘Would you care to sit down?’
‘Well—’ Beatriz said, darting a look which showed that she did not care to accept while the other two were at the table.
‘Go and take a drink or two, Otto,’ Ole Devil commanded in English, then he nodded at Tommy. ‘But make sure he doesn’t get too many.’
‘I’ll see to it, sir!’ Mannen promised, lurching erect with an almost military precision. ‘Come on, No-People.’
‘Your friends are obedient,’ Beatriz praised, taking one of the chairs after Mannen and Tommy had left.
‘They’re less friends than useful fighters,’ Ole Devil corrected, guessing that the woman had understood what had been said between himself and his cousin. ‘I’ve found that letting them think I accept them as equals keeps them loyal. Sit down, Captain.’
