by Jake Logan
“When we get time we will bring you some,” the guard in charge said.
The door was relocked. They did leave a candle lamp to replace the one that went out, but the light was still dim in the cell.
Slocum listened to them locking the other doors and going upstairs. They had one hope—somehow Cherrycow had gotten away.
“Obregón, you can’t lose your temper with those armed guards. We have no gun, no weapons. Control it and pray for help.”
The man nodded his head.
The three seated themselves on the stone floor around the bucket and fed their faces. The stale tortillas were hard enough to use for scoops, and they dipped out the nearly soured beans with them. Slocum knew that despite the poor quality of the food, they had to eat something until help came. The other two, after complaining, must have accepted it as their fate as they feasted with him.
No telling the time or how long they had been there, but their confinement grew tedious on all three of them—maybe on Slocum the most.
12
Slocum hissed at the other two. He heard the sound of shoe soles descending the stone steps. Someone was coming. It was not the sound of the guards’ heavy sandals this time; that’s what made him sharpen his senses. The candle lamp had long since gone out again, so there was no light in the room.
“Think it is Cherrycow?” Jesús asked in a whisper.
“Time that bastard got here,” Obregón complained.
The outer door to the jail chamber opened with a weary creak. Whoever was over there hissed, “Slocum, you in here?”
A woman’s voice, one he recognized in the inky darkness of the cell. Slocum was surprised, but thankful it was her.
“Yes, I’m here. Is that you, Angela?” He frowned in disbelief. How had she ever—?
“Sí.” She fumbled with the key in the lock.
“You have no light?” Obregón asked as the three men joined her at the locked cell door. At last the barred door opened and they were free.
“Do you have a gun?” Slocum hugged her shoulder in the darkness.
“Sí, two, and they are loaded.” It was pitch dark and she reached for Slocum’s hand to give him a revolver, then she handed Obregón the other one. “They were all I could get.”
“What time is it?” Slocum asked.
“Maybe three o’clock in the morning. I am unsure.”
“Lead the way. Everyone put their hand on the next one’s back. Let’s go,” he said.
“Oh, Madre de Dios,” Obregón said. “I am so grateful to you for this.”
They passed through the next door and climbed the steep steps. Slocum saw some light ahead and felt grateful too. “Are there still a lot of guards up there?”
There was enough light that he saw her shake her head.
“What has happened that you got in here to let us out?”
“The captain of the guard. He was horny.”
Slocum asked no more as they stepped into the hallway. Even though it was dim, the light was almost too much for the three men.
“Follow me,” Angela said and led them out into the back courtyard.
With his bow strung over his shoulder, Cherrycow stood up and waved at them to follow him.
“Where in the hell have you been?” Obregón demanded, looking around.
“Busy trying to get you out,” the man spoke brusquely. “That is not easy. Angela was the one who found you. I was in that casa three times since they caught you, but I couldn’t find you.”
“We were in the prison underground,” Slocum said.
“Juan, the old man who took you your food, told me where you were,” Angela said and then pointed to the waiting horses.
“Why did he tell you that?”
She smiled in the starlight as they reached the picketed horses. “A woman has ways to get information from men that even torture cannot get from them. Even really old men.”
He did not need any more answer than that. They checked their cinches and then mounted up. In the saddle, Slocum reached down and hoisted Angela up behind him.
“Can we go to Don Carlos’s house and rest?” Slocum asked Cherrycow.
“Sí, he was very worried about where you were when you did not come back.”
“He doing better?”
“Much better.”
“That’s good news.”
As they rode away, Slocum looked back at the outline of the huge, fortified building. What really went on inside that house?
“Whatever brought you back?” he asked Angela in a whisper.
“Oh, we can talk about that later. Just a witch’s way. Keep going.” She booted the horse they shared to make him go faster.
“You learn anything about the operations inside that house?” he asked her.
She hugged him around the middle, driving her breasts into his back. “I think it houses La Cucaracha.”
Slocum looked back and frowned at her as they crossed over a good-sized hill, the mountain horse under him hunching his way up the grade. “He’s in there?”
“I think his operations are in there.”
“Not him?”
“I think the one who is him may be calling himself something else.”
“I’ve thought that for a long time,” Slocum said. Had she really found out who the Cockroach was?
“Has anyone ever seen him?” Slocum asked her.
“No. I think whoever is playing him is like an actor in a play and uses that house to hide his identity.”
“It could be anyone then, huh?”
“I asked el capitán, but he told me nothing. But I think it is all some scheme so if his house of cards falls down, La Cucaracha can escape and not be sought. You can’t arrest someone when you don’t know who you’re looking for, right?”
Slocum agreed. After they were well away, they stopped briefly to eat some dried food that Cherrycow had in his saddlebags—Slocum and the two pistoleros were ravenous since the food they’d gotten during their confinement was terrible, and they’d had to force themselves to eat enough to keep their strength up.
They reached Don Carlos’s house a couple of hours later, and Slocum’s friend looked fresh sitting in a lounge chair, just finishing his breakfast.
“I see you made it out all right.”
“Thanks to one brave lady—Angela,” Slocum said and indicated her.
“Gracias, my dear. You have saved my great amigo, who in turn saved me and my ore from the bandits,” he said, starting to rise.
“You look very good.” Slocum shook his hand and made him stay sitting down.
Slocum squatted on his boot heels. “Salazar said Martina McCarty wasn’t at the house. Have you heard anything about where they have taken McCarty’s wife?”
“Who is Salazar anyway?” Angela asked.
“Mendez Salazar. He runs that operation at the house, or at least he acted like he did. He’s the one who killed Nada to trick me into going up there after him and then was waiting for us when we busted into the casa.”
“He is a rich man’s son. I know him, now that I think about the little cocksucker,” Don Carlos said. “Actually a spoiled child.”
“Where does his money come from?” Angela asked.
“Mexico City. His father has much money.”
“Enough to pay for all those guards?” Slocum asked.
“That would be nothing to him.” Don Carlos made a pained face when he shifted in the chair. “By the way, I have asked Donna to marry me. I hope you’re happy.”
“Did she say yes?” Slocum asked and then smiled.
“I think so,” Don Carlos said and then laughed. “Yes, she did.”
“You’re lucky.”
“Who is lucky?” Donna swept into the room.
“Him,” Slocum pointed at Don Carlos. Everyone laughed.
Donna smiled, then said, “Slocum, I have a hot bath for you being made ready upstairs. Send your clothing right down and wear the largest robe I have set out for you until they d
ry.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He winked at Angela. “Here’s to Angela.” He raised his glass high. “For getting us out of that damn prison.”
Everyone agreed.
Slocum and Angela went upstairs. When he opened the door, he spotted the steaming tub. “Whew, she aims to cook me.”
Angela poked him. “That place was pretty bad.”
“Yeah, I can still smell it.”
After his bath he busied himself shaving. “So whatever brought you back?”
“Oh, I knew you were in trouble. My dreams were all about you. You kept me awake. I worried the ones holding you might kill you before I could get up here. I found Cherrycow here in the village earlier. He took me to Don Carlos’s, and from there I went to work.”
“I owe you my life.” He swished the soap and whiskers off the blade in the pan of hot water, then went back to slicing off his stubble.
“Maybe I owe you more than that. Don’t worry about it.”
“What about your rancher deal?” Slocum frowned for an answer.
When he glanced at her for a reply, she stared at the ceiling for help. “Oh, he has so many problems, no wonder he has no woman. What I suspected about him, it happened. And oh, he is such a poor lover, my God, there was no way I could live with him.”
“Sorry.” He went back to shaving. “I still don’t have Martina McCarty away from those bastards. In fact I haven’t found her. Can you help me?”
“I will look for her.”
“Good, I can damn sure use the help. Salazar says he has her son too.”
“You said—”
“I know the pistoleros were angry over him saying that. Why would that bastard say that if he didn’t have the boy?”
She stretched her arms over her head. “Hombre, I have no idea. The rest will be taking siestas since they were up all night. Can we?”
He laughed, rinsing off his face with a wet cloth. “It ain’t sleep you want.”
She shrugged. “Oh, we can do that later.”
Then she ripped off the towel from around his waist and moved in to hug him. “You know what I need.”
Yes, he knew all right.
13
Much, much later, after a splendid supper fixed by Donna’s crew that evening, they discussed the issue of Salazar and Martina McCarty.
“Maybe he has sent her to Mexico City?” Don Carlos said.
“No,” Slocum said. “I don’t think he’s done that. It sounded to me like he was having a big, hot affair with her. If he was, he wouldn’t want to be separated from her. Though maybe he was just bragging or trying to make me upset.” He shook his head to try to clear his thoughts.
“Oh, Señora Stallings sent you her regards, Slocum,” Donna said, standing over Don Carlos. “And you need to get some sleep,” she said to Don Carlos.
“Ah.” Don Carlos stood. “Not even my wife yet, and already she is bossing me around.” But he didn’t argue any more, and she asked everyone to excuse them.
When the room was down to Slocum, his three men and Angela, they went over everything that had happened here in Sierra Vista—piece by piece. How Salazar had killed or had others kill Nada to get Slocum to try to take the casa, and then had captured him and Obregón and Jesús.
“And he expected that prison to hold us,” Obregón said, leaning back in his chair, puffing on a great cigar courtesy of Don Carlos’s generosity.
“How will we find out where she is?” Jesús asked.
“Find out if this Salazar goes anyplace besides that casa.”
“That could be dangerous.”
“Yes, Jesús, they know us too well. But there are men in this village who will work cheaply enough and who we can count on to get us that information. I’ll give you some money, and the three of you find and hire some of them.”
“How much should we pay them?”
“Oh, I’d say a dollar a day.”
Obregón quickly agreed about the money. “With as little work as there is to be found up here, you could buy their life for that much.”
Slocum gave them ten silver dollars. “Be extremely careful. I don’t need you hombres back in that fortress’s hoosegow, or in the village one.”
“We don’t want to go there either.” Jesús laughed as they left.
Slocum rose and stretched. Maybe the morning would bring them some news. He and Angela went down the hall to the bedroom.
“Hiring those men is a good idea. I was afraid you were going to try to follow Salazar yourself,” she said under her breath. “That could be the death of you.”
“Well, thanks, fortune-teller. I really want Martina away from all of this. There’s something fishy about this whole deal. Salazar must have her drugged up or something. She’s not a whore by any means—”
He opened the door and showed Angela in. “And I missed being in bed with you.” He pulled the door shut, then swung her around to kiss her. She stood on her toes, and their mouths fed on each other as he hugged her supple body and hard tits tight against him.
“Wasn’t I here with you a short while ago?” she asked as he took the blouse off over her head.
“My, my,” he said, admiring her firm, pointed breasts. “Was it that long ago?”
She ran her hand over the hump in the front of his pants. “Oh,” she teased. “The big one must have forgotten too.”
He toed off his boots. She shed her skirt, and he smiled at the sight of her shapely brown hips. It was good to have her back. He was pleased that the damn rancher couldn’t hold in his cum—of course, if a man wasn’t used to pussy like Angela’s, he could very easily get too excited.
She shoved down his pants and stuck his root between her legs, then backed toward the bed. Tugging him along, she spread her legs into a V in the air, and he crammed his erection inside her—damn, she was a wonderful machine. Her contractions threatened to pull the cap off his dick; it was no wonder that little bastard couldn’t hold on—Slocum barely could himself. Then from his aching balls he fired a round into her cavern that made her smile.
“Ah, yes, hombre. Whew!”
Intertwined, they went to sleep. He woke before dawn and eased away from her, making sure she had a light bedcover against the night’s mountain coolness.
In the kitchen, he found the bride-to-be, Donna, overseeing things. He hugged her neck and then went for some fresh coffee. “Are you happy that Don Carlos finally asked you to marry him?”
“I won’t have to lie to the priest at confession anymore, will I?”
“No.”
She wrinkled her nose, suppressing a grin. “But I can’t occasionally sleep with some horny guy like you who drops in with a grande dick either, can I?”
“Oh.” He looked around. “You have to do it more discreetly.”
She laughed and kissed him. “I’m not his yet.”
Someone with a horse entered the courtyard. Slocum could hear the animal’s hooves striking the stones. Gun in hand, he rushed out onto the balcony to see who it was. The rider took a wild shot at him, but his horse’s jumping around spoiled his aim. The bullet smacked into the plaster. Slocum, gun ready, took aim at the rider’s back. His accurate shot made the pistolero pitch forward out of the saddle, and Slocum rushed down the stairs to try to catch the wildly sidestepping horse. He didn’t want the animal rushing home and telling everyone something happened to this shooter.
The horse captured, he looked up in the Chinese lantern light. All his men were out on the second floor balcony, armed, including Don Carlos.
“Who is it?” Obregón asked.
“I doubt I know him.” Slocum led the animal toward the hitch rack.
“We are coming,” Obregón said.
With the upset horse hitched at the rack, Slocum, gun in hand, walked over to check on the facedown hombre. When he rolled him over, the man pointed the six-gun in his hand at Slocum, who instantly kicked it away. The wounded man fell back, swearing at him.
“Who sent you?”
&
nbsp; “Fuck you.”
“Listen, if you treasure your ears, balls and dick, your tongue better move to telling me who sent you.”
“You can kill me or he can—what difference does it make?”
“I can get you out of the Madres and save your ass if you help me. Otherwise I’ll send word to them that you squawked on them.”
The man made a pained face.
He’d hit a soft point in this bastard’s armor. Now he needed to press it harder. “Who is this Cockroach?”
“That—I don’t know—”
“Where does Mendez Salazar fit into this?”
“He—he is the main—one.”
“Where does he hold Martina McCarty?”
“At—a small ranchero on the Río Verde. They call it the Hernandez Ranch.”
“Why there?”
The man shrugged, in obvious pain from the bullet in his back.
“If I find her, you will live. If I don’t, then you can expect”—Slocum made a grim face at the man—“to have your throat cut.”
“She is there.”
Angela was at his elbow. “You know where that ranch is?”
Slocum nodded. “I have been in that area before. It is a distance from here, but we can find it.”
“When do we go?” she asked.
“As soon as we can saddle some horses. Find us some dry food.” Angela nodded and went back into the house, and Slocum turned to his henchmen. “Obregón, saddle some horses and put whatever explosives we have left on a packhorse.”
“Sí.” The man left on the run.
Slocum turned to the other pistolero. “Jesús, I’m leaving you to guard this man. He tries to escape, kill him. And hold him until I return with Martina. If I don’t come back or if I come back without her, you will end this hombre’s life.”
“He will need a doctor?” Jesús asked.
“Sí, but no one should speak about him.”
“I savvy. He will be here waiting to be dead or alive when you return.”
“Cherrycow around?” Slocum spun on his heel. No sign of him.
“We will send him to join you,” Jesús said.
“Good, I may need his skills.” He saw Donna coming with Angela. They carried several cloth sacks bulging with food. He hurried over and took one sack from each of them, then headed for the stables. Obregón had a packhorse ready for them, and he began stowing the supplies in the pannier. The two women worked on the other side, placing the items in that holder.
