Get Urrea! (An Ole Devil Hardin Western Book 5)

by J. T. Edson

  ‘You stupid whore!’ the sergeant roared, and swung a slap to the girl’s face. It sent her staggering and, following, he caught her by the hair and dress. With a heave, he flung her across the room to land almost at Mannen’s feet. Stalking forward, he went on, ‘I’ll teach you to be so damned clumsy.’

  Although the incident was attracting a lot of attention, none of the Mexicans offered to intervene. Behind the bar, the manager let out a grunt of what might have been protest. However, knowing the sergeant to be a dangerous proposition, he was disinclined to divert the wrath from the Indian girl to himself. Nor did he expect anybody else to take the girl’s part.

  ‘That’s enough!’ Mannen said quietly, stepping over the girl.

  ‘What the hell has it got to do with you, gringo?’ the sergeant demanded, coming to a halt as the Texian confronted him.

  ‘Looked to me as if the fault was yours, not the girl’s,’ Mannen answered. ‘Leave her be.’

  Even as he was speaking, the young Texian realized that he might have acted in an unwise manner. However, his instincts and upbringing would not have allowed him to stand back while a member of the opposite sex was being abused. It was, he concluded, too late to have second thoughts. Having intervened, he must carry the matter through to its conclusion.

  For his part, the sergeant was very satisfied with the way things were turning out. He had heard that gringos were softhearted and protective where women were concerned and had based his strategy upon it. Few, if any, of the non-com’s section of Mexican society would have offered to protect an Indian girl, but he had hoped that the gringo would. Now he had an acceptable excuse for attacking the sleepy-looking young Texian. Nor did he anticipate any great danger. The greatest risk was that some of the Lancers might take the gringo’s side, but none of them were showing any sign of it. Even if they did, the sergeant felt confident that the members of his regiment who were present would support him.

  Behind the counter, the cantina’s manager glanced at his elder son and gave a jerk of his head. Without needing any verbal command, the young man went through the door which gave access to the rear of the building. Showing no sign of being aware of his son’s departure, the manager turned his attention to what was happening on the other side of the bar. However, he neither spoke nor made any attempt to interfere.

  ‘Get out, of my way, gringo!’ the sergeant ordered, taking a step forward. His right hand went behind him to the hilt of the knife sheathed on the back of his belt.

  Instantly, the non-com discovered—as Moreno had at the Posada del Madonna—that the Texian’s slothful appearance was deceptive. Moving with an unexpected speed, Mannen swung his right arm in a cuff to the side of the sergeant’s head. Such was the force behind the openhanded blow that its recipient was spun around and sent reeling in the direction from which he had come. Seeing him rushing towards them without any control over his movements, the men who had shared his table shoved back their chairs and started to stand up. Unable to stop himself, the sergeant struck the table. It crumpled under his weight, depositing him on the floor along with two of his companions who had not moved quickly enough.

  Furious curses sounded, mingling with the far from tactful laughter of the Lancers. More chairs clattered over as a number of infantrymen came to their feet. They were mostly sergeants and corporals who were aware of Saucedo’s wishes regarding the Texians. Guessing what the recipient of Mannen’s blow had hoped to achieve, they intended to carry on where he had inadvertently left off.

  ‘Kill the gringo!’ yelled one of the sergeants. ‘Get the “Indian” too!’

  Hands went to the hilts of the Baker bayonets which swung in the frogs on several of the foot soldiers’ belts. Others reached for the knives which they carried.

  If Tommy had been granted an opportunity, he would have advised Mannen against interfering between the Mexican and the girl. He had sensed that it might be a trap, but had had no chance of speaking. However, he drew the correct conclusion when he heard the second sergeant’s shouted command, deducing from the word ‘Indio’ that he too was to be made a victim of reprisals.

  Even as the Mexicans were starting to draw their weapons, Tommy stepped to Mannen’s right side. Although the Texian had not made a move towards either his pistol or bowie knife, the little Oriental slid the thirty inch long blade of the tachi sword from its sheath. Grasping the handle in both hands, Tommy adopted the traditional Samurai warrior’s on-guard posture.

  ‘All right,’ Mannen said, his voice raised sufficiently to carry all around the suddenly silent room. ‘We didn’t come in here to look for trouble and, so there won’t be any, we’ll leave.’

  Starting to move forward, with his long bayonet held ready for use, the second sergeant noticed a certain hesitancy among his companions. Nor did he feel as confident of success as he had previously. There was something grimly menacing about the two young men which was causing their would-be attackers to have second thoughts. Nor was it solely due to the naked blade in Tommy’s hands. While Mannen had not yet offered to draw a weapon, he had lost much of his lethargic appearance. The way in which he had felled the first non-com was proof that he was far from being as slow as he looked. In fact, the infantrymen felt sure that he would be a fast and dangerous antagonist.

  If there had only been members of his own Battalion present, the sergeant might have felt inclined to accept the big Texian’s offer. He could have waited for a more suitable opportunity to carry out Saucedo’s instructions. However, with the weight of numbers so heavily in his favor and, moreover, the fact that he was being watched by many of the Lancers, made him decide not to back down.

  ‘Like hell you will!’ the non-com snarled. ‘Come on, let’s get the—!’

  ‘Hey, amigo,’ called a voice which Mannen recognized. ‘It looks like you need help this time.’

  Glancing across the room, the Texian found that he had made a correct identification of the speaker. Sergeant Moreno and an Indian-dark, grim looking Lancers’ sergeant major had come through the side door. Followed by the rest of Beatriz’s escort, they advanced until they formed a rough half circle around Mannen and Tommy.

  While crossing the room, Sergeant Major Gomez had looked from the Indian girl as she crouched on the floor, with blood running from the corner of her mouth, to the non-com who was still sprawled supine on the ruined table. Guessing what the sight implied, he swung his gaze to the second sergeant. Under normal circumstances, Gomez would have been indifferent to the mistreatment of the Indian girl. Nor would he have been unduly perturbed by the idea of the foot soldiers assaulting and at least seriously injuring the gringo and his companion. However, Major Carlos Badillo had made his sentiments known regarding the latter and Gomez intended to see that they were respected.

  ‘What’s happened?’ the sergeant major demanded, although he could have hazarded a guess at the answer.

  ‘I don’t see how it comes to be any of your business,’ the infantry sergeant replied truculently. ‘It’s between us and those two. So you’d better step aside and keep out of things that don’t concern you.’

  ‘These men are my concern,’ Gomez stated, having received orders from Badillo regarding the safety of the two gringos and their Indian. On top of that, he disliked the infantry sergeant’s attitude. ‘General Urrea has said that they can enlist in the Tamaulipa Lancers, so I don’t intend to let anything happen to them.’

  ‘Did you hear that, amigos?’ the sergeant shouted, looking at the seated infantrymen with the intention of enlisting their support. He had always resented having to walk while the Lancers rode. Nor had their attitude of superiority ever sat well with him. ‘These damned horse-soldiers have had to start taking on gringos to do their fighting for them.’

  ‘Any time you stinking foot-shufflers feel like trying to see how much help we need to fight,’ Gomez answered. ‘Just say the word and well show you.’

  There was a scraping of chairs’ legs on the floor and a low, angry rumbling of ta
lk, as members of both regiments began to stand up. The hostility which existed between their respective commanding officers had been passed down to them, increasing the traditional rivalry between their branches of the service. So they were eager to try conclusions with one another. Nor, from what Mannen Blaze could see, would the matter be settled with just fists and a roughhouse brawl. Every right hand was reaching for a weapon as the Lancers and the infantrymen formed into two groups on opposite sides of the barroom.

  ~*~

  After Colonel Sebastian Saucedo had finished speaking, he and all the other officers in General José Urrea’s office turned their eyes in Ole Devil Hardin’s direction. The young Texian could sense that the words had started to arouse doubts, even suspicion, regarding his story about having been close to Presidente Antonio Lopez de Santa Anna.

  Ole Devil had realized that there was a danger of his identity being challenged if he attempted to find out what news had been brought by Captain Seguin, but he had felt it was a risk he must take. Up until Saucedo had drawn the newcomer’s attention to him, he had been congratulating himself on having made the right decision. It had confirmed his conclusion that he was not the reason for Seguin’s arrival. If he had been, the captain would have looked for and denounced him. In addition, he had gathered some information that he might be able to turn to his advantage. Provided, of course, that he could clear himself of suspicion.

  ‘I’d be surprised if the captain did know me,’ Ole Devil declared, walking forward with an air of nonchalance which appeared to suggest he had nothing to fear. He was directing his words straight at Saucedo, and his attitude implied that the colonel was the only person present who needed convincing of his bona-fides. ‘Or do you think that el Presidente used to go around telling everybody I was a spy he’d hired to keep an eye on them?’

  ‘It doesn’t seem likely to me that he would,’ Major Carlos Badillo remarked, doing what the Texian had hoped that he would. Despite the uncertainty which had been aroused by Saucedo’s comment, he could not resist opposing and trying to show up his rival. ‘Surely that would tend to restrict the spy’s effectiveness.’

  ‘Did you ever see this man?’ the colonel insisted, ignoring the major’s sarcastic words and pointing a finger at Ole Devil.

  Although the captain looked at the Texian, he did not immediately reply. Seguin was on the horns of a dilemma, and he did not care for the sensation. While the gringo seemed vaguely familiar, the captain was unable to decide whether he had seen him before or not. Nor, in view of the way in which Saucedo and Badillo were staring at him, did he relish the idea of making an answer. Wanting to remain in Urrea’s service, he had no desire to antagonize either officer. Both, he knew, were very influential in the Tamaulipa Brigade. Saucedo might be the senior in rank, but the captain was a cavalryman and as such would probably be put in the Lancers under Badillo’s command. Even if he should be retained on the General’s staff, whoever he went against would remember and be his enemy.

  ‘Well, captain,’ Major Francisco Alvarez put in mildly, after about thirty seconds had elapsed without a reply. ‘Have you seen this young man or not?’

  ‘I—I—’ Seguin began, shifting uneasily on his chair and trying to avoid meeting anybody’s eyes.

  ‘I wasn’t dressed this way in those days, captain and, as I had a beard and mustache, you might not recognize me,’ Ole Devil put in, halting alongside Seguin and speaking in a friendly manner, guessing what was causing the other’s perturbation. ‘On top of which, as el Presidente didn’t want it suspected that I was spying for him, Major Fuqua always arranged for us to meet after dark and in secret.’

  Watching the Paymaster rather than any of the others, the Texian sensed that the final point he had raised was working strongly in his favor. Amongst other information which he had been given before leaving on his mission, was the identity of the officer who would have handled dealings between Santa Anna and a man such as he was pretending to be. Clearly Alvarez, for one, was aware of the kind of duties that Major Fuqua— ostensibly a mere quartermaster—actually carried out.

  ‘Well, I—’ Seguin spluttered, still not wanting to have to commit himself either way. Then he saw how the gringo’s explanation could be used as an excuse for avoiding the issue. ‘I could have seen him, but don’t recognize him. As an officer and a gentleman, I never approved of using renegades and didn’t have anything to do with them. So I can’t say for sure—’

  A knock on the door brought the captain’s words to a stop. It opened and Saucedo’s second-in-command entered, followed by a worried-looking young civilian.

  ‘My apologies, senores,’ the major said, indicating his companion with a jerk of his right thumb. ‘Esteban’s sent his son to tell Alvarez that there could be trouble at the cantina.’

  ‘Why should he send for you, Francisco?’ Urrea demanded. ‘It’s the officer—’

  ‘I told Esteban to notify me immediately if it seemed likely that there would be trouble,’ the Paymaster interrupted. ‘There’s been considerable friction between the two regiments recently and I felt it was advisable that we heard about any trouble as soon as possible so that we could get there and prevent it from developing into anything more serious.’

  ‘What kind of trouble might it be?’ Saucedo barked at his second-in-command.

  ‘We’d better go over and find out,’ Alvarez advised, giving the major no time to reply and starting to walk around the desk. ‘If the trouble-makers see us it will have a greater calming effect than just sending the officer-of-the-day.’

  ‘It will,’ Urrea conceded and lurched to his feet. ‘Come on, all of you.’

  ‘I don’t think we need Captain Seguin with us, General,’ Alvarez pointed out. ‘He has had a long, hard journey and looks as if he could use a good meal.’

  ‘You’d better go and get one,’ Urrea authorized as he strode by the man in question.

  ‘Stay here and I’ll have food sent in to you, captain,’ Alvarez ordered. ‘It’d be as well if the news you’ve brought us doesn’t go any farther. So, if you should be questioned, just say you’ve come to tell the General about Santa Anna losing the battle. ‘Don’t mention the rest of it.’

  Following the Mexicans as they hurried from the office, Ole Devil was both pleased and perturbed by the interruption. It had won him a respite from a very tricky situation, for which he was grateful. While Seguin had failed to expose him as an impostor, neither had he received a clean bill of health. If the interrogation had continued, somebody was almost certain to have asked the captain whether he had heard of ‘Count von Richthofen’ and it was a name he would be unlikely to forget. In fact, Ole Devil had expected Alvarez to do so even if it had not occurred to any of the others.

  Dampening Ole Devil’s relief was the knowledge that Mannen Blaze and Tommy Okasi had said that they would visit the cantina to see what they could learn. Trouble there might easily involve them.

  ~*~

  ‘Huh!’ Urrea snorted, leading the way through the side door nearest to the cantina. ‘Everything’s quiet enough!’

  ‘Too quiet!’ Alvarez answered, studying the well-lit and silent building. ‘Come on, we may still be in time!’

  The urgency in the Paymaster’s tone caused the men with him to move even faster. Striding out with greater alacrity than he usually employed, Urrea was the first to reach the cantina. What he saw through one of the windows told him that Alvarez had acted with customary forethought and had made a wise decision in making the arrangement with Esteban. Nor had they been summoned by a false alarm. Although the, members of the two regiments had not yet come to grips, they were facing each other and were clearly on the point of commencing hostilities.

  To give Urrea his due, he did not hesitate. Kicking open the cantina’s front door, he passed through it with a bellow that brought every eye to him. Finding themselves in the presence of their commanding general and other senior officers, the Lancers and the infantrymen allowed their weapons to sag into less th
reatening positions. Showing as great a speed as when producing his tachi, Tommy returned it to its sheath. Mannen removed his hand from the hilt of the still undrawn bowie knife and adopted an attitude of half-asleep innocence.

  ‘Put those knives and bayonets away!’ Urrea bellowed and, after the order had been reluctantly obeyed, went on, ‘What’s been happening here?’

  ‘The Lancers—!’ the sergeant from Saucedo’s battalion began.

  ‘Those Infantry—!’ Gomez commenced at the same instant.

  ‘Quiet!’ Urrea bellowed as the non-coms stopped speaking to glare at each other and a low, ominous rumble arose among their supporters.

  Although silence fell, the ugly way in which the two groups continued to glare at each other made it seem no less menacing than it had been before.

  ‘Might I suggest that we send the men back to their lines, General?’ Alvarez asked.

  ‘Yes,’ Urrea agreed. ‘The cantina’s closed. Get back to your lines.’

  ‘It would be advisable for the officers to accompany them,’ the Paymaster went on. ‘In fact, it would be better if they spend the night with their men. That will keep them apart until their tempers have had time to cool down and it will ensure there are no further incidents.’

  ‘See to it, Colonel Saucedo, Major Badillo!’ Urrea commanded. ‘Report to me in the morning and tell me the cause of all this.’

  Standing just inside the front door, Ole Devil was not dissatisfied by the way things had turned out. In addition to there being a rift between Urrea’s two regiments which would take a lot of healing, the matter of his connection with Santa Anna had been postponed and, with the latest development demanding attention, might even be forgotten.

  Chapter Fifteen – A Wise Man Knows When To Get Out

  Before Ole Devil Hardin had taken two steps through the door of General José Urrea’s office, he sensed that something was wrong. It showed in the attitudes of the room’s other occupants. Colonel Sebastian Saucedo was glowering at him from the right side of the desk with mingled hatred and thinly veiled satisfaction. At the other end, Major Carlos Badillo threw a speculative glance at the young Texian and then resumed scowling at his rival. Seated in his usual chair, Urrea was studying Ole Devil with a cold and suspicious gaze. Although nothing showed on the lean, aesthetic face, Major Francisco Alvarez was looking at him just as fixedly.