But as soon as he’d heard what happened, Standish had seen immediately that he might be able to turn this situation to his advantage. Seizing the moment was what had allowed him to become a successful businessman. That was why he had gone to the marshal’s office and volunteered himself and his companions to go along on any rescue mission.
Surely something fatal could happen to Seymour while they were all below the border. Something that couldn’t be traced back to Standish or the three men who had come to Texas with him.
“I’m not sure how well suited we are for an adventure like this,” Welch said now as the four of them gathered in Standish’s hotel room.
“There won’t be anything to it,” Standish said with a shake of his head. “We’ll just ride along with the others, and when the inevitable battle breaks out with those Mexicans, just make sure that my nephew doesn’t emerge from it alive. He probably shouldn’t be shot in the back, though. I don’t want anything suspicious about his death.”
“What about those greasers?” Stover asked. “You expect us to actually join in the fight with them?”
Standish poured himself another drink. “I don’t give a damn about that,” he said. “We’ll make it look good, then get the hell out of there once Seymour is dead.”
“What about Miss Jimmerson?” Welch said. “Should we try to rescue her?”
“Only if it’s not too much trouble. We’ll be there to get rid of Seymour, that’s all.”
Welch looked at him for a moment, then said, “You’re a cold-hearted bastard, aren’t you, Mr. Standish? No offense meant.”
“None taken,” Standish said, then downed the drink he had just poured.
The group delivering the “ransom” gathered at the livery stable a short time later. The rest of the posse wouldn’t assemble for a while, just in case Alcazarrio had spies watching the town, as seemed likely. Those spies would follow the smaller group, unaware they were being trailed by a much larger bunch. That was the hope anyway. This plan stood a better chance of working than if everyone rode together.
Colton brought six of his men, Paxton five. With the two ranchers and Matt, that made fourteen in the party. It was a good number, Matt thought. Better than thirteen anyway—not that he was superstitious or anything.
He and Sam hoisted wooden chests onto the back of three pack mules and lashed them into place. The rocks inside made them obviously heavy, although Matt and Sam had had to guess about the weight. They didn’t know exactly how much a quarter of a million dollars in gold coins would weigh, but they’d determined it would take three mules to carry the load. But the actual weight didn’t really matter since the chests were just for show.
The blood brothers shook hands. “Be careful,” Sam said.
“Aren’t I always?” Matt asked with a smile.
“Hardly ever. As far back as I’ve known you, you’ve been prone to recklessness.”
“Yeah, but I’ve lived this long.”
“But this time it’s not just you and me we have to worry about. The lives of those four girls depend on us, too.”
Matt sobered. “You don’t have to tell me that,” he said. “I know it.”
Sam nodded and clapped a hand on his longtime friend’s shoulder. Then he stepped back as Matt swung up onto the back of the rangy gray stallion. The rest of the men were already mounted.
“I’ll be keeping an eye on you,” Sam said.
Matt nodded and lifted a hand in farewell. He wheeled his horse and led the way, riding out of Sweet Apple and heading south. Behind him, Shad Colton held the lead mule’s reins and led the pack animals. Paxton and the rest of the group rode around him in a protective circle. Townsmen who had gathered to watch the group’s departure called encouragement after them.
The riders from the Double C and Pax had put aside all the hard feelings between the two crews. Like members of a squabbling family, they had closed ranks due to the threat from outsiders. Now all their anger and hatred were directed toward Diego Alcazarrio and his men, rather than each other. It might not stay that way once they got back to Texas—assuming they got back—but for now the feud between the two ranches was over.
All the members of both crews had volunteered to go along, and the ones who hadn’t been picked to ride with Colton and Paxton had grumbled about it. But they would be coming along behind with the posse, and before the mission into Mexico was over, they ought to all have their chance to get in on plenty of action.
In addition to the men from Double C and Pax, the posse would include Sam Two Wolves, Seymour Standish, Cornelius Standish and the three men who had come with him from New Jersey, and several men from Sweet Apple, including the gunmen Cole Halliday, Ned Akin, and Jack Keller. They had made life miserable for Seymour when he first arrived in Texas, but now, once again, they would be siding with him in a fight. The group numbered about thirty men. Combined with the smaller advance party, they might outnumber Alcazarrio’s force.
But Alcazarrio would be fighting on his home ground, from a position of strength. Numbers weren’t everything, as Sam knew quite well. He and Matt had come out on top in previous battles when they had been outnumbered.
Figuring out the plan and getting everyone together, mounted and armed, had taken some time. It was midafternoon when Matt and the men with him reached the Rio Grande. Matt had been keeping his eyes open and hadn’t seen any signs of anyone watching them. That didn’t mean they weren’t there, though, and as he led the way across the border river, the horse’s hooves splashing in the shallow, slow-moving stream, he caught a glimpse of sunlight reflecting off something in the distance. Maybe a spyglass, he thought, being used by one of Alcazarrio’s men who had been left behind. It was a good sign, although Matt knew it didn’t have to mean anything.
He dropped back a little so that he was riding beside Esau Paxton. “Know anything about this Villa Rojo place where we’re supposed to take the ransom?” he asked.
Paxton nodded. “I’ve been there once. Went down to buy a bull from a Mexican who had a ranch near there. There wasn’t much to it then, just a little village in some hills. Probably less now, because the village depended on the ranch for its existence, and Don Alviso, the hacendado, died about a year later. From what I heard, he had no heirs, so bandits moved in and stripped the place of all its stock. The village was abandoned.”
“So what you’re sayin’ is that it’s a Mexican ghost town.”
“That’s about the size of it,” Paxton agreed.
“How far is it from here?”
“It’s a good fifty miles below the border. We can make it in the three days that Alcazarrio gave us, but the trip will take most of that time.”
Matt nodded as he frowned in thought. It sure sounded like they might be riding into a trap. Alcazarrio probably figured that once he had his hands on the gold, none of the gringos would ride out of Villa Rojo alive.
The so-called general was in for a surprise—or at least, Matt hoped so.
The main body of the posse rode out of Sweet Apple about an hour after the group led by Matt Bodine. Sam Two Wolves and Seymour Standish headed up this bunch, followed by the contingent from the settlement and the cowboys from the Double C and Pax.
The two ranchers had made it clear to their men that Sam and Seymour were in charge, and that the lives of Jessie and Sandy might depend on obeying their orders. Sam didn’t expect any real trouble from the punchers except maybe for a little hotheadedness—and he knew how to deal with that, having ridden with Matt Bodine for so long.
Bringing up the rear were Cornelius Standish, Warren Welch, Daniel McCracken, and Ed Stover. Sam wasn’t going to be surprised if the Easterners fell behind and eventually turned back once they saw how much of a long, hard ride they had in front of them, but for now at least, the four men were keeping up fairly well.
Before leaving Sweet Apple, Sam had conferred with the ranch crews and found several men who knew where Villa Rojo was located, at least approximately. Sam didn’t
think they would get lost. He figured Matt would be able to track the bandidos, and he didn’t anticipate having any trouble following the trail left by Matt’s group. But it was nice to have an idea where they were going, just in case.
Sam glanced over at the man who rode beside him and asked, “Are you all right, Seymour? You’re still looking a mite peaked. You didn’t have to come along, you know.”
“Yes, I did,” Seymour said as he jerked his head in a nod. “I couldn’t stand not knowing if Maggie is all right, or not doing everything I can to help her. Besides, if there are any . . . legal repercussions for this expedition, the blame will fall on me. As a duly appointed lawman, the responsibility for our actions is mine.”
“Suit yourself,” Sam said. “But if you pass out and can’t go on, somebody’s going to have to take you back to Sweet Apple.”
“I won’t pass out,” Seymour vowed. “I’m fine.”
He didn’t look all that fine, but Sam didn’t argue with him. Seymour was a grown man and could make his own decisions.
Besides, Sam knew how he felt. Sam was mighty worried about Sandy Paxton, and from what he had seen, Seymour and Maggie O’Ryan were a lot more serious about each other than he and Sandy were.
After they had ridden a while longer, Sam broached another subject. “Seymour . . . what do you think about your uncle and those other hombres from New Jersey coming along with us?”
Seymour hesitated, then said, “I’ll admit I’m a little surprised by them volunteering. But I suppose Uncle Cornelius is worried about Miss Jimmerson. She’s worked for him for quite a while, you know. And I suppose the others came along because Uncle Cornelius did.”
“Does something about them strike you as a mite funny?”
Seymour glanced sharply over at Sam. “What do you mean by that?”
“I just mean they don’t seem much like dry-goods salesmen to me. But I reckon you’d know more about that than I would, since you were in the business for such a long time.”
Again, Seymour didn’t answer for a moment. He looked at the trail ahead as he finally said, “The same thought has occurred to me, Sam. And earlier today, when I was talking to Rebecca—I mean, Miss Jimmerson—some of her comments led me to believe that she had her doubts about them as well.”
Sam turned around in the saddle enough so that he could look over the group of riders strung out behind them. Standish and the other three Easterners were still at the rear. Sam said to Seymour, “Well, then, if they’re not drummers, what are they?”
“I don’t know. Bodyguards for my uncle perhaps?”
“Maybe. But nobody was trying to kill you, Seymour . . . until your uncle and his friends came to Sweet Apple.”
Seymour’s eyes widened in shock. “You can’t mean . . . That’s insane! Uncle Cornelius couldn’t be behind those attempts on my life. He’s my uncle, for heaven’s sake!”
“If I recall my Shakespeare correctly, Hamlet’s uncle tried to have him killed.”
“That was just a play,” Seymour argued.
“Maybe so, but folks have tried to get rid of their relatives plenty of times in real life.”
“I suppose that’s true, but still . . .” Seymour shook his head. “I just can’t believe it.”
Sam shrugged. “Something to think about, that’s all.”
Seymour might not want to believe it. Sam wasn’t sure about his suspicions himself.
But he knew he was going to keep a close eye on Standish and the other three Easterners, just in case. Getting those kidnapped women away from Alcazarrio was going to be difficult enough without having to worry about danger from within their own ranks.
Except for a couple of brief stops, Alcazarrio had kept his men moving fast all day, ever since they’d galloped out of Sweet Apple and headed for the border. When night began to fall, the bandit leader signaled another halt.
The man on whose horse Maggie was riding laughed in her ear. “Now, little bird,” he said, “you and Esteban will have a chance to get to know each other better.”
Maggie remembered the way this man had been pawing her for hours, and thought she didn’t want to get to know him any better than she already did. What she really wanted was the opportunity to plant a knife in his guts. She would twist the blade and take great pleasure in the twisting . . .
But she had no knife, and the bandits were probably too watchful to ever let her get her hands on one. For now, she had to concentrate on staying alive, not on the desire for revenge that burned inside her.
Esteban dismounted first, then reached up to haul her off the horse. She was shaky from pain and exhaustion and fear, and she swayed a little as he set her on the ground. His grip tightened on her waist and he pulled her against him. She smelled tequila and peppers on his breath as he leaned over her. With a leer, he said, “It will be a good night,” and nuzzled his lips against her neck as she tried to shrink away from him.
“Let go of her, damn you!”
Maggie heard Jessie Colton’s voice, followed by the smack of a hand against flesh. Esteban jerked in surprise and turned away from Maggie to glare at Jessie, who stood there with an angry, defiant look on her face after slapping him. A torrent of curses poured out of his mouth as he reached for the redheaded girl.
“Esteban!”
That sharp voice belonged to Diego Alcazarrio, who strode toward the confrontation, trailed by Florio Cruz. “What is going on here?”
Esteban pointed at Jessie. “This gringo bitch struck me!”
“He was trying to assault Miss O’Ryan,” Jessie shot back. “I just told him to stop.”
“Señorita Colton . . .” Alcazarrio spread his hands as if he were trying to reason with her. “I have told you that you and Señorita Paxton will be kept safe, but I cannot promise as much for these other two.” He waved at Maggie and Rebecca, who had also been lifted down from horseback by one of the bandits. “The hills are lonely, and my men have been without women for a long time.”
“I don’t care,” Jessie said. “I demand that Miss O’Ryan and Miss Jimmerson be treated with the same respect that Sandy and I are.”
“Señorita . . . you in no position to make demands.” The words came from Florio Cruz, and his voice held a snakelike hiss.
Alcazarrio shrugged and said, “My amigo is right. Besides, if you insist on being treated equally, perhaps I will give you and your friend to my men as well as these other two.”
Jessie shook her head. “You won’t do that. You know that if you do, our fathers will never pay any ransom for us. Not only that, but they’ll hunt you down and kill you like a dog, no matter how long it takes.”
Alcazarrio’s jaw tightened. “You gringo women should learn to keep a civil tongue in your heads when you talk to men. But that is the fault of your fathers, for not beating you enough.” He made a curt slashing motion with his hand. “For tonight, you will be spared. The other two as well.”
“But General—” Esteban began to protest, as mutters of complaint came from some of the other bandits who had envisioned molesting the attractive young prisoners.
“I have made my decision!” Alcazarrio roared. “Let none dispute it!”
That quieted the rest of the men.
He turned back to Jessie. “Does this satisfy you, Señorita Colton?”
“For now,” Jessie said with her best haughty look. “We’ll see about tomorrow.”
“Yes,” Alcazarrio said with a slow nod. “Tomorrow may be very different.”
Maggie swallowed. She didn’t like the sound of that. But there was nothing she could do about it, and for now, at least, she was safe, along with Rebecca, Jessie, and Sandy.
She prayed that wherever Seymour and Matt and Sam were, it wouldn’t take them long to catch up with the bandits.
Chapter 20
Matt, Colton, Paxton, and the men with them made it about ten miles into Mexico that afternoon before the shadows of night closed in and forced them to call a halt.
“We sho
uld keep goin’,” Colton argued. “We know where we’re headed. We don’t have to follow the tracks those bastards left.”
“Unless Alcazarrio tries to pull some sort of double cross,” Matt said with a shake of his head. “Maybe he won’t go to Villa Rojo. Maybe he’s got a stronghold somewhere else and plans to hold the girls there while some of his men collect the ransom in the village.”
“We still have to deliver the chests there,” Paxton pointed out. “I’m sure he’ll have men watching us, and watching the village as well.”
Matt nodded. “Yeah, that’s true. But if he’s up to anything fancy, I want to know about it as far ahead of time as possible, so we can make plans of our own.”
“I thought Two Wolves said you were reckless and hotheaded,” Colton complained.
“Yeah, but I’m not a damn fool,” Matt replied with a grin. “We’ll make a cold camp, and post guards for the night. Alcazarrio could try to grab the ransom before we ever get to Villa Rojo. There are still some bands of renegade Apaches down here below the border, too.”
As a matter of fact, it hadn’t been very many years since the cavalry had chased the Apaches out of West Texas. Both Colton and Paxton had fought off their share of Indian raids in the not-so-distant past. Matt recalled Jessie talking about how she and Sandy had even taken part in some of those battles, despite being young girls at the time.
With fourteen men in the group, it was easy to set up short shifts with two men always on watch. Matt took the final turn himself, along with Gil Cochran, Paxton’s foreman. Matt knew that Cochran didn’t like him much, but that didn’t matter as long as the man could stay awake and alert. Matt hadn’t come down here below the border to make friends.
The eastern sky was turning gray with the approach of dawn when Matt thought he heard something in the distance. He wasn’t sure, but it could have been a faint clinking, as if a steel-shod hoof had just stepped on a rock, or a horse had tossed its head and caused a harness chain to bump something else.
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