Chasing Pancho Villa

by R. L. Tecklenburg

  “Should I?” James responded, trying to put the pieces together.

  “They are rich white men, like yourself,” Daniel said with a smile. “These hombres don’t worry about going to jail. Their rich friends fix everything.”

  “I think you overestimate my own power and influence,” Harrison said dryly.

  “Sí, if you wish to believe such things.” Daniel looked at Harrison, then he sighed. “Before the embargo, anyone could buy weapons—good weapons.”

  Maria stood in the bright sunshine, paying no attention to them. She lightly stroked the mane of her horse, then inspected the saddle.

  “So, how did it work for you and Maria? They met you at the border and made the deal?”

  “No, a man in Columbus made the deal for us. Safer that way.”

  “A middleman?” James asked. Like Randolph James Commodity Brokers, he suddenly realized, disgusted.

  Daniel smiled. “Someone who knows everyone, Harry.”

  James mounted his horse next to Maria. Daniel rode behind the two.

  “Maria,” James said, waving the newspaper, “Von Moltke is dead.”

  “Good, Harry,” she said. “He deserved to die.”

  The three spent most of the ride back to the Washington hacienda without talking. The only sound heard was the wind at their backs. The bright sunshine touched James’ face. He enjoyed the fragrance of a desert being reborn as they passed through flowering cacti and sage in bloom. The majestic Socorro’s towering presence seemed to guard their solitude. Still, watching Maria gallop across a land exploding with color held the greatest beauty in his eyes.

  Paris was a lifetime away, and he knew already that he could never return to her as she was. Selling wheat to the hungry for a profit and providing weapons to governments for obliterating their own progeny now seemed not only ugly, but brutally immoral, he thought, now having had the time to consider things. He understood why Maria and Daniel had smuggled guns. He understood their anger and, most importantly perhaps, he saw the pain of a lost birthright that passed from generation to generation. They had acted from a basic need, not only to survive, but to build a better future for their children.

  Daniel and he were both riding beside Maria when she suddenly nudged her dark gelding in the flanks. Full of energy, it galloped off, sending up a curl of brown dust to powder the two men. Maria laughed and Harrison resigned himself to watching her fly across the flat landscape ahead of them.

  “Let her go, hombre,” Daniel said, smiling.

  The riders continued west, the red orange ball of the sun beginning its descent into the southwestern sky.

  *

  They arrived at the Washington hacienda that same evening. Mr. Jones and José ran excitedly to the gate to greet them. Helping them from their horses, they both were speechless. “You are alive?” Jose asked, hugging Maria and slapping Daniel on the back. “You escape from the German, eh?”

  “No German could hold us, amigo,” Daniel bragged

  Mr. Jones shook Harrison’s hand in a distracted way. He was watching Maria walk toward the hacienda. She had left her horse for the men to tend. The house that had been shuttered and dark began to light up, window by window, as it again came alive.

  “We could not get a message through to you,” Harrison told them. “We tried, but the telegraph was down.

  “Sí?” José answered. He turned to Daniel. “I cannot believe you are alive, amigo.”

  “If it wasn’t for the gringo and for my sister, I’d be dead,” Daniel responded, and then turned to James. “Harry, we talk more about the business. I want that you understand,” he said.

  Harrison turned to follow Maria.

  “Your sister make the deal with Villa, Señor Daniel. Did you know?” he overheard José say.

  “I know about it,” Daniel answered.

  All Harrison could think of was Maria. Entering the large house, he climbed the stairway. He saw a light in her bedroom, and got to her open doorway in time to watch her wrap a large red blanket around herself.

  Maria turned and looked at him. Her clothes were scattered about the floor. “Harry,” she smiled. “I thought you would hurry.

  “Maria,” he said softly.

  She let the blanket drop to her feet.

  Harrison tore off his clothes. Naked, he walked toward her. She did not move. He kissed her hard on the mouth, then bent down to caress her breast. He felt her nipples growing erect from his touch.

  He lifted her up in his arms and carried her to the bed.

  “Don’t leave me tonight,” Maria whispered.

  There was no more talk.

  *

  Later, both lay in Maria’s European style tub of slowly cooling water, enjoying the peacefulness of the moment.

  “Harry, I must dress,” she said, preparing to stand.

  Before she could move, Harrison grabbed her by her buttocks and pulled her down. She giggled like a small girl, enjoying his tender playfulness.

  The two did not leave each other’s arms until the water had cooled and darkness had finally settled in. Lying in her bed, they watched the great wheel of stars in the vast expanse of velvet sky shining through the unshuttered window.

  “What will we do now?” Maria asked, gently rubbing his chest.

  “Find my brother’s killer, then settle the matter of Lieutenant Floyd’s death. And clear my name,” he told her.

  “To Columbus. Then I must go with you,” she said. “We are together now.”

  “No, my love,” he said, rolling on his side. “Too dangerous for you.”

  “Take me with you,” she said. “I have many contacts there. I can protect you.”

  “Out of the question,” Harrison told her flatly. “You’d be arrested immediately.”

  Maria saw that she could not change his mind. “I will send Mr. Jones with you.” She nodded vigorously. “Mr. Jones will take you into Columbus by a back way, on horseback through the desert. He knows how to avoid the army patrols. He can get you into town without being seen.”

  “He would agree to this?”

  “Oh yes, Harry,” Maria told him. “He owes you a debt. You saved his nephew from the hangman.”

  Harrison nodded. “I could use his help.” He got up and began to dress.

  “Mr. Jones has a good friend there who will help you and hide you. Grover will also help.”

  “Yes. Good work, Maria,” James said. But he was forming his own plan.

  “Harry, please don’t do anything foolish.” She was watching him closely.

  “Don’t worry about me, Maria,” he said. “When I return, then we can begin our lives together. Paris, New York—wherever you wish to go. We’ll travel on that ship.”

  Harrison could feel Maria’s eyes on him in the dark as he quickly dressed. It was time to move.

  “Horses?” he asked, finally putting on his hat. “Your fastest.”

  “Take mine.” Maria’s brown moist body shimmered in the moonlight as she came toward him, walking through the shadows. She embraced him one last time. “I love you,” she whispered. “Come back to me, my love. Without you, I have no life to live.”

  He smiled at her, tucking another .38 into his belt. “You are my woman, and we will have that life. Together.”

  “Be careful,” Maria said, holding on to what he had just told her.

  “When it’s safe for Daniel, I’ll send for him. To clear him of the murder charges. But he stays here until he receives a message from me. From me only. Tell him that,” Harrison said.

  “He will do as you say, Harry,” Maria whispered. She wiped away tears and clung to him one last time before he left her.

  “Good-by, Maria,” he said.

  “I’ll watch for you,” Maria said softly. “Always.”

  *

  Harrison and Mr. Jones rode out through the heavy wooden gate and into the darkness. Harrison thought back to what Juan had told him in the des
ert not very long ago. “There is no justice without respect,” he had said. Justice is much more than applying the rule of law, more than proving innocence or punishing the guilty. The world was much more complex than that. Harrison would see that Bart and his killer received the justice they deserved.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  Harrison headed north in the moonlight, traveling across the border and into Columbus with Mr. Jones to guide him. They carefully navigated through an arroyo, the place where he had almost died five weeks earlier. Circling Camp Furlong, they entered town through the Mexican neighborhood on the western side and stabled their horses with Mr. Jones’ friend, an older Hispanic man hobbling along on a cane.

  The man knew exactly what was expected of him. Mr. Jones remained at the stables, but the old man led Harrison with great energy down dusty back streets until they reached the rear entrance to the Hoover. Here the old man left him, and Harrison entered quietly.

  The first person he saw in the kitchen of the hotel was the young clerk. “Miguel,” Harrison called from the shadows, catching him by surprise.

  Upon hearing that voice, Miguel froze, then he slowly turned to see the tall white man standing before him. “Señor James, it is you?”

  “I need your assistance,” Harrison said quietly.

  “Pero, señor.…” The young man continued to stare at him.

  “You look as if you’ve seen a ghost.”

  “I didn’t know what happen to you. There was the shooting. The constable, he is killed. An Indian is found there dead beside him. And you, señor, were gone. The policía look for you. Everyone say you and Daniel Washington kill them. But I cannot believe this. Then Sergeant Juan tell me you escape to Mexico.”

  “I’m back now, Miguel. I need your help.”

  “I find you a room now,” Miguel said, still surprised. “I keep your bags because, Señor James, someday I know you return to us. I will not tell that you are here, señor.” Miguel spoke in a low voice.

  “Miguel, you are a smart young man,” Harrison said. “Will you do something for me?”

  “What I can do, señor, I will do for you.”

  “Thank you,” Harrison said. “And I will do something for you when all this is settled. I have many friends in Chicago and New York. Some of them own large hotels and would like to have a good, young desk manager. They pay well.”

  “Gracious, Señor James. You are very kind.” Miguel smiled broadly.

  Harrison considered for a moment. “Miguel,” he said, “I need to move through town without being noticed. You understand?”

  “Sí.”

  “No one must know I am here,” James stated, watching the young man. “No one.”

  “Sí. No one will know,” Miguel said, thinking. “Do not go on Broadway, señor. Too many soldiers. And stay away from the Last Chance. Maybe I go with you”

  “No Miguel, but thanks. I must go alone, Harrison said. He turned quickly and headed for the door. Then he stopped. “Miguel, tell your uncle that I will meet him at the Last Chance in twenty minutes. Please do that.”

  “No señor. I cannot,” Miguel replied.

  “Why not?”

  “Because two days ago he go to El Paso with his esposa and niño,” he replied. “I see them get on the train.”

  “When will he return?”

  “Mañana, I think.

  *

  A few minutes later, taking an alley route, he stood at the double door to the Last Chance Saloon. He saw Paddy Derry behind the mahogany bar. A few men sat at tables, but no one was at the bar. Good, he thought.

  “Paddy,” Harrison stated directly as he walked briskly across the large room. “Not much business this evening.”

  “Sunday be bad, gov’nor. No soldiers an’ too many temp’rance goils these days,” Derry said, coolly. “And it be late.”

  “You know a lot about what goes on around here, don’t you Paddy?”

  Derry was immediately on guard. “I be thinkin’ you was long gone, lad. You bein’ a wanted man.” He watched carefully as James stepped up to the mahogany. “What’ll it be for ye? Another Blue Ribbon? But no ice left, gov’nor.”

  “I need some information, Paddy,” Harrison said, only inches from the bartender’s face. “And a whisky. Your best.”

  “I be wonderin’, here. The deputy, does he know you be back in town, squire?” Paddy backed away to reach for the bottle. He slid a glass across the bar, then poured.

  “I’d be very careful about telling him, Paddy. That is, if I were you.”

  “What ye be wanting here, lad?”

  “The deputy’s not going to do you any good,” Harrison said, flashing his .38 under the jacket. “And keep your hands on the bar.”

  “Be careful now, lad. Those barkers can go off easy enough,” Paddy said nervously.

  “I need a couple of questions answered, Paddy,” Harrison told him.

  “Do ye now? You’re always askin’ question, boyo, aren’t ye?” Derry said. “But ask then.” He carefully resumed polishing glassware.

  “Tell me about trading with the Mexicans. You know what I mean,” Harrison told him.

  “Don’t be believin’ ever’thing ye hear,” the bartender said, looking not at Harrison, but across the room.

  “Heard you and Lieutenant Floyd had business connections,” Harrison said. “And don’t look for someone to come through that door to get me. You’ll be going first—with a hole in your head.”

  “I don’t know what ye mean, lad. I’m just a honest businessman, so I am, like yourself.” But Paddy still didn’t look at Harrison.

  “You saw Lieutenant Floyd and I leave this saloon the night he was killed.” Harrison reached across the bar with his right hand, grabbed Derry by his shirt collar, and pulled him closer, forcing the older man to look at him. “You watched as we left. Only a few minutes later, someone bushwacked us,” he said, feeling his anger build. “Derry, I think you know who did it.” Harrison hoped he could scare Derry into giving up information.

  “That’s a black lie, so it is,” the bartender told him, breaking out in a sweat. He saw Harrison’s rage reflected in his eyes.

  “Tell me, you bastard.”

  Derry was quiet and shaken.

  “Tell me,” Harrison demanded, now barely able to contain himself. “I’m going to give you until the count of three.” He pulled tighter on the man’s shirt.

  Derry’s fleshy face turned beet red. “You be murderin’ a innocent man. I swear I know nothin’.

  “One!” With his left hand, Harrison slipped the .38 from his belt and held it so Derry could see it. “Two!”

  Derry attempted to swallow, but did so only with great difficulty. “I swear to yez I don’t know nothin’.”

  “Three!” James said softly, beginning to bring the .38 up to Derry’s chest.

  “Be Jasus! Yer a crazy man. Don’t kill me, squire.” Derry’s hands shook.

  The two customers in the saloon stood up. They were cowboys who had been content to drink and mind their own business. But now things were going too far. They couldn’t see the pistol, but knew there was a problem.

  “Leave ’im be or we’ll get the law, mister,” the tallest said. Neither was armed. “Freddy, git ’im,” he said to his partner.

  “Okay,” Harrison said, letting go of Derry’s collar. He stuck the pistol back in his belt. “Sorry boys, just a minor disagreement. We’re okay here. Sit down, and Paddy’ll bring you another.”

  “Don’t worry none, lads,” Paddy said, relieved. “Two beers comin’ up.” He tapped the beers and walked them to the table. “Thanks lads.”

  “Who ambushed us, Paddy?” Harrison asked softly when he returned.

  “A drunk down on his luck. So I hear from pub talk here, but it be only talk. It were a robbery gone bad, they say.”

  “Liar.” James pressed, but he didn’t touch him. “Those boys saved you this time, Paddy. But there’s
always later.”

  “The Washingtons. The Washingtons probably done it, yer honor. They’re a bad lot jus’ ’cross the border from here.”

  “Hmm, that’s interesting now,” Harrison said. “They say you know all about it, Derry.” He lied.

  “That be a lie. And damn that whore, too.” Derry’s voice shook, but with anger rather than fear.

  “The two cowboys finished their beers and got up to leave. “You okay thar, Paddy?” The tall one asked again.

  “Don’t ye worry ’bout ol’ Paddy, lads. Me an’ the gov’nor here jus’ be havin’ a friendly spat.”

  “Maria? A whore? I ought to shoot you right now.”

  “I know’d some a them soldier boys be watchin’ ye. They think ye got money, so they do,” Derry said, changing his story.

  “The truth, Paddy,” Harrison said coldly. “Why did someone want Floyd dead?”

  “The lad not much liked, I hear. He had his enemies. That’s what the lads tell me. ’Tis the truth, so it is.”

  “And?” Harrison pressed.

  “He was one a them smugglers we al’ays hearin’ ’bout.”

  “Who shot him?” Harrison asked. “Tell me, Paddy.”

  “A soldier from the camp. A despic’ble crim’nal he is,” Paddy said, squirming. “I can find ’im fur ye, squire.”

  “You’re a damn liar, Paddy,” Harrison said.

  “That’s all I know,” Paddy said. “He works for the big boys, he does.”

  “Paddy, his name,” Harrison said, leaning across the bar.”

  “That’s all ye git from me, laddy,” Derry asserted. “If ye push me harder I be gittin’ the deputy. I swear on mi mudder’s grave.”

  I’ll get no information from Derry, Harrison decided.

  “Git out a mi establishment now,” Paddy ordered, looking down for the shotgun.

  “You’re hiding something, Derry,” Harrison said, prepared to leave. “I’ll be back.”

  “Harry, how ’bout that ride in the country ya promised?” a woman’s voice called from above them. “Remember?”

  “Harry and Paddy looked up to see Sal coming down the stairs.