Fearless, Maria walked over to General Villa and spoke to him quietly in Spanish. Harrison and Daniel watched with interest. Villa’s soldiers began to spread out across the area of combat, each assigned to different tasks.
“Hermana,” Villa said loudly. He looked over to Harrison, smiling. “Your woman is a tough trader, amigo. Esta bien, muchacha,” he then said to Maria. “Para frijoles.” He held two bundles of currency in his hand. Maria tied up the saddlebags and turned to walk back to Harrison and Daniel.
Villa watched her, then said, “Señorita, next time it must be machine guns. Obregón has too many soldiers. I need machine guns to kill them all.”
Maria handed the saddlebags to Daniel. “General, there are no more for sale.”
“Steal them, hermana. You must steal them,” Villa said.
Harrison knew that he was serious.
One of Villa’s soldiers brought his horse from somewhere up the mountain. General Villa mounted the brown stallion in one graceful motion. “Adiós, amigos,” he said with a wave. “I hope you find what you are looking for,” he called to Harrison.
“General, someday we’ll meet again,” Harrison said.
“No, gringo, you will never see me again,” Villa replied softly. “Siete Leguas, vaya,” he said softly, and galloped down toward the wagons.
“Viva la revolución! Viva Villa!” Daniel shouted.
General Villa pulled up, turned in the saddle, to wave his fedora. “Tierra, libertad y equalidad,” he shouted back. Another loud cheer was heard across the mountain top.
Harrison watched Pancho Villa ride away toward his spoils. Villa’s war for justice, he observed, was now being fought by barefoot boys.
He then looked over to Maria and smiled. Did she risk her life for Daniel and me, or for the money? I truly believe she did it for us, he decided.
Another young rebel brought Maria’s horse to her. She threw the saddlebags across the saddle and mounted. “We ride,” she called to her companions.
“Where to, sister?” Daniel said, also mounting.
“Durango,” she answered, then rode off up the mountain. Harrison and Daniel followed.
*
By dusk of that same day, they decided to make camp for the night. They found a level spot off the trail with a stream nearby.
“Where are we anyway?” Harrison asked, resting his head against the saddle. He had found ponchos and a blanket strapped to two of the horses. At that altitude, temperatures fell quickly. He couldn’t find any matches to build a fire with.
“Three, maybe four days ride from Durango, I think,” Daniel responded. He was intently looking through the saddle bags he carried on his horse.
“Any food in there?” Harrison asked, watching Daniel poke through the bags.
Maria had walked into the bushes to find the stream.
“Nothing to eat, anyway, white man,” Daniel said sourly. “I found matches. And cigarettes.”
“You can call me Harrison or call me Mr. James, but stop calling me that,” Harrison said, looking straight at Daniel. “Give me the matches and I’ll build us a fire.”
Daniel handed the matches over. “Then I will call you Harry. It is what my hermana calls you, no?”
“That’ll work.”
Laying the cigarettes aside, Daniel dug deeper into the leather bags. “Harry,” he said, smiling. “I think I find something.” He pulled out his hand. He was holding several bars of German chocolate and cigarettes. He offered Harrison a chocolate bar, but kept the cigarettes for himself.
“Thanks.”
Daniel tore open a pack and lit a German cigarette, but continued searching through the bags. “What is this? A book?” he asked, pulling out the leather bound object.
“Let me see that,” Harrison said.
Daniel handed it to him.
“Maybe Von Moltke’s,” Harrison said, carefully looking at the dark green leather. He opened it. On the first page he saw a map of Mexico. He leafed through the journal to the final entry. “January 28, 1918. Felix has delivered a message from the American soldier.” Harrison translated as he read. “Der andere James muss sterben,” Von Moltke had written. “The other James must die.” That entry was written two days ago.
“The map may be helpful, eh?” Daniel said.
“I think you’re right.” Harrison was still distracted by the entry.
“Look. Here’s Durango.” Daniel said. “A train passes through Durango. See?” Daniel pointed at the thin line on the map. “The tracks are not too far from us. The map tells us how close.”
A twig snapped in the darkness. They both heard the noise. “Maria?” Harrison called out.
“So, we go to Durango. Then what?” Maria stepped into the small clearing. Starlight glistened off her tears.
“Maria, you’re crying,” Harrison said, getting up. He caught her in his arms and they embraced. “Why are you crying?”
“Harry, I thought I’d never see you again. Or Daniel,” she said, wiping away the tears. “That man—I thought he’d kill you both even before we could rescue you.”
“Maria, what you did.… The courage it must have taken to find Villa. Then to get us,” Harrison said. He kissed her with more passion then he ever thought he had to give.
“Whew, Harry,” Maria replied with a gasp. “You are so…. I cannot find the word.”
Daniel watched in silence.
“How did you find us, hermana?” he asked finally.
“I made a deal with General Villa before we left Las Palomas, Daniel,” she replied. “For the weapons.”
Harrison began collecting firewood. He didn’t want to be part of the discussion on her secret plan.
“A deal with Villa?”
“Yes,” she said. I could never betray the revolution.”
“You didn’t tell me?” Daniel said, hurt by her duplicity.
“I couldn’t.”
“Did you tell him?” he asked, looking at Harrison.
“Yes,” Maria said. “Daniel, I’m sorry. My plan had to be a secret.”
“But Harry?”
“I forced her to,” Harrison added, returning with an arm full of wood. “I discovered the plan by accident,” he lied. He began to build a fire, carefully stacking the wood. Then he struck a match to the kindling.
“Now, it is good that I did, or all would have been lost. The German would have killed you both.”
“Yes,” was all Daniel said. He reached into the saddlebags, pulling out bundles of one hundred dollar bills. He held one up to examine closely in the light of the fire. The heat from its flames was just beginning to touch them. The dry wood crackled and popped as it ignited.
James knew she was right. They would have shot both of us as spies, he thought.
Maria lay down beside Harrison near the fire. He continued to feed small twigs and bark into the flames. She lay her head on his saddle.
“Harry, I want to tell you something,” she said softly, rubbing his back gently with her hand.
“Yes, my love,” he replied. “What is it?”
“I won’t steal machine guns, even for General Villa,” Maria said. “Today, I saw that the war cannot go on much longer. Those muchachos, they seemed so young. Younger even than Daniel…. He has run out of soldiers to die for him, I think.”
“Maria,” Harrison said, turning to see her loveliness in the light of the fire. “I love you. You are wise, as well as beautiful.”
She rose up to embrace him.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
The three bought rail passage on the Mexican National Railroad from Durango to Torreón, then to the Villa stronghold of Chihuahua a week later, finally arriving in Juárez as February ended. Maria bought horses and supplies for the ride to Las Palomas and the Washington hacienda.
After days on the trail, the three reserved two rooms in the finest hotel in town, El Palacio del Revolución, before the final ride home. One r
oom was for Harrison and Maria. Daniel was trying to accept his sister’s love for the white man, and even grudgingly admired him.
“Be good to my sister, gringo,” Daniel said, winking at Maria. “I see you in the morning, and we go home.”
“Hermano, stay out of trouble,” Maria said sternly. “And no gambling.”
When they had retired to their room, Harrison immediately saw that it was more spacious and better furnished than the rooms he’d had in Columbus. There was even a vanity. Maria had undressed quickly and slid into bed beneath silk sheets, exhausted. She watched as Harrison paced slowly around the room, deep in thought. “What is it, my love?”
He looked at her from across the room. “Maria, I have business here in El Paso that I must attend to.
She immediately sat up, her breasts exposed above the sheets. “What kind of business?”
“An old acquaintance. A man who I think has information.”
He turned for the door. “I’m sorry, my love, but I must go.”
“Go then,” she said sadly. “Wait.” Naked, she got out of bed and tip-toed across the room.
James could only stand there watching her, drowning in her perfect beauty.
She threw her arms around him, and kissed him passionately on the lips.
“Come back soon, mi corazon.”
Harrison opened the door and left, knowing that if he looked back, he wouldn’t go.
Maria lay fully awake in their bed, worrying about her gringo.
*
Harrison found Daniel gambling in the casino below. “Here Harry, deals are made and the most beautiful women in Mexico are found,” Daniel told him, obviously excited. Harrison, looking around, saw Mexican soldiers, rich ranchers, and Americans at the gaming tables. Much like European casinos, he thought. The perfect place to buy and sell anything.
Harrison watched the flow of the crowd closely, looking for Smith. Two hours later, sitting at a table playing high stakes poker, flanked by Mexicans and Americans, Harrison noticed a man standing to one side. “I fold,” he said. He gathered up his winnings, stood, and walked over to the man.
“Jackson Smith? So it is you,” Harrison said.
The man was visibly startled upon being recognized. Finally he spoke. “Harrison James. How are you, old boy?” The two men shook hands.
“I heard you were across the border in El Paso, Mr. Smith, working with the U. S. Army? Is that right?”
“That’s correct,” Smith answered. At El Paso Feed and Grain, we do business with the army and with ranchers. Just came down here for some leisure time. You know how it is, don’t you, Mr. James?” Smith said. He looked strained. “Sorry about your brother. A real tragedy, that. Suicide, I heard.”
“How did you hear about it?” Harrison asked him.
“I read it in the paper.”
“Does your business take you to that army camp over by Columbus?” Harrison asked.
Smith hesitated. “I’ve been there. I still do business with the Regiments left there.”
“What do you sell to them, Mr. Smith?”
“Grain for their horses, mostly,” Smith replied. “Not the same type of work that I did when I worked for Randolph James. Much more like your work, I imagine. Still brokering commodities, Mr. James?”
“I gave that up,” Harrison responded. “Now I’m investigating the murder of my brother.”
“The murder?” Smith said, beginning to edge away. “I have to go, Mr. James. Someone waiting for me. You know how that is.”
“Sorry to hear about your warehouse,” Harrison said before Smith could move. “I heard it was arson.” He leaned closer. “I also heard you’re doing business with the Mexican government. Running the embargo and selling arms…. That sort of thing.”
Smith stopped immediately. “Who told you that?” he whispered.
“I’ve gotten to know some of your associates, Smith. They say you sell thousands of dollars worth of munitions to Mexico—to the government, to Villa. Whoever can pay.”
“My associates?”
“It’s best if I don’t give out their names. I’m sure you understand,” Harrison told him.
“Of course,” Smith said, staring hypnotized at Harrison, as if he were a snake.
“I’ve also heard you’ve built quite a reputation for yourself down here.”
“Listen, Mr. James. I may have shipped a couple of items across the border. You can’t fault a man for picking up some quick cash, can you?”
“I think the word is smuggling,” Harrison told him.
“News travels fast out here, doesn’t it?” Smith replied, absently placing a bet.
Harrison sipped at his whisky. It burned. Cheap, he thought.
“Mr. James, I heard Maria Washington shipped a cargo of Japanese guns from Asia, ran the blockade, and delivered them to the Germans at Guaymas. They also call that smuggling. But then, it all depends which side of the border you live on, doesn’t it?” Smith lost, and a younger Mexican collected his chips.
“Yes. And no,” Harrison said thoughtfully. “Take yourself for instance. If your friends across the border found out that you were identified by your enemies on this side of the border, you might find yourself in a bad spot, one that could cost you dearly. Somebody without a friend on either side of the border.” He leaned closer still. “And Smith? I think that’s already happened.”
“The Washingtons are smugglers and murderers. And you’re mixed up in it,” Smith hissed. He started walking away.
“Wait,” Harrison said. “I have to ask you something.”
“Yes?” Smith said, reluctantly turning back to face James.
“Do you think you’ll live long enough to see how it all comes out?”
Smith said nothing.
“What did you and Bart talk about when you met him in El Paso? That day just before he died.”
“I’m a businessman,” Smith said. He was sweating. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You didn’t see my brother?” Harrison pressed.
“No, Mr. James, I did not,” Smith answered. Again he turned to leave. “If you’ll excuse me?”
“You’re a liar, Smith. Tell me what I want to know, or I’ll tell somebody what you’re really up to.” Harrison had the other man’s arm, pressing tight.
“I don’t think you’re in any position to have me arrested.” Smith tried to pull free, but couldn’t.
“One telegram, Smith—that’s all it will take. And I didn’t say anything about telling the Army.”
Smith looked around. He swallowed hard. “Not here. Let’s go over to that corner table, pretend like we’re gambling.”
They walked over to a roulette table and placed bets.
“We met,” Smith admitted. “I needed cash and your brother gave it to me in exchange for some information.”
“What did you tell him?”
“I told him about a soldier I saw meeting with a German agent here in El Paso. I saw them meet twice last spring after the army gave up on chasing Pancho Villa.”
“Why do you think one was a German agent?”
“I knew him. Felix Sommerfield, the reporter. I was told by Villa’s brother that he betrayed Villa to German intelligence. I heard later he was on the payroll of a German colonel named Von Moltke.”
“How did you know the soldier was spying?” Harrison was still skeptical. “He wouldn’t exactly wear a uniform.”
“Earlier that day, I saw the same man in officer’s uniform at the Sheldon Hotel. Where I stay. So after he met Sommerfield, I had him followed for several days.”
“And?”
“My man followed him to Camp Furlong. I found out he was an officer in one of the Negro companies that rioted in Houston last summer.”
“Why did you tell Bart?”
“I’m a businessman, Mr. James. Not a traitor,” Smith said. “And I needed the money. I knew Bart would have it.�
��
“Does the officer have a name?”
“I don’t know it,” Smith replied. “Maybe your brother figured it out, checked the dates I gave him against their duty rosters or something.”
“Give me those dates, Smith,” Harrison said.
“May 28, June 18, and I saw him the last time on January 27.”
“Why do you do it?” Harrison asked, genuinely curious.
“For the money,” he said easily, then walked away into the crowd.
“I suggest you get out of El Paso real fast, Smith. Or whatever your name is,” Harrison said louder than he had wanted, then watched him disappear deeper into the smoke filled room.
Harrison smiled grimly, and strolled back to the table where Daniel was gambling. Duty rosters, he thought. How do I get Snow to assist me? Or maybe Snow is the traitor?
*
Before riding out of town the next morning, Harrison located a Sunday edition of the El Paso Sun. The front page headline caught his attention: “German Officer summarily executed by Villa. German and Mexican governments outraged, threaten retaliation.” Maria will like this, he thought, reading the article while waiting for her and Daniel.
Casually glancing through the paper, the first American newspaper he had read in weeks, he saw an advertisement. “Good weapons for sale,” it exclaimed in bold print.
When the other two arrived leading horses, Harrison showed Daniel the advertisement. “Is this another competitor?” he asked.
Daniel read the address out loud, smiled, and looked at him. “No longer, Harry. The army put him out of business. Now, he sells only to Americans.” He prepared to mount. “Hunting rifles and revolvers for shooting rats.”
“When he was selling to the Mexicans, where did he buy his weapons?” Harrison was curious.
“He stole most of them from the army,” Maria answered, laughing. “That’s how they caught him.”
“Where do others get their arms?”
“You mean your friend from last night?”
“Yes. My friend.”
“He probably has contracts with the U.S. Army,” Daniel said. “You should know, Harry. Men like him work with the gunmakers in el Norte. A hundred rifles here or there. Who cares?”
Chasing Pancho Villa Page 23
