"We started out with more than twice as many as they did," Ortiz said, "and none of us is a woman. Now they have lost two to our one. The gods are turning in our favor."
It was Chato who said, "Killing Rojas was enough. It was wrong to kill the old man."
"Silence!" Ortiz said. "Manilot was told by me to turn the horses loose. The old man saw him and would have shot him. Now they are both dead. The next one to be dead must be Rivera."
"Do we wait for them here?" Kata wanted to know.
Ortiz shook his head. "First we must confuse them a little." He turned to a small, swarthy man in a green shirt and leather waistcoat. "Paco, take my horse and six men. Ride to Adobe Wells, then circle back here. We will take the pack trail through the canyon and across the mountains to the Place of Green Waters. We will wait for you there."
"How can we be sure that Nachita will follow Paco and not us?" Kata said. "The old one is cunning."
"Which is why he will follow the band led by my horse," Ortiz said.
"Perhaps they also will split into two groups?"
"There are too few of them." Ortiz shook his head. "They sleep lightly enough as it is."
Paco had already selected his men. He mounted Ortiz's pony and rode quickly down toward the desert.
Ortiz turned and looked to the east again. The dust was a little more pronounced, and he thought of Rivera, a smile touching his lips. It would not be long now. The pleasure he was beginning to find lay in the contemplation of his enemy's destruction.
He swung onto the back of Pace's pony, nodded to the others and led the way up into the canyon.
By noon the party from Hermosa had moved into a broken wilderness of rock and sand, crisscrossed by dried-up water courses. Despite the lack of wind, hot air rose to meet them like the blast from a furnace door, lifting the sand into dust devils.
The line of riders was strung out along the trail, their faces covered by scarves against the dust, Dillinger for once, leading the way. The grisly discovery in the clearing had had a chastening effect on everyone. Even Chavasse, whose high spirits were normally well in evidence, was strangely subdued as he rode, lolling in the saddle, half-asleep.
Dillinger couldn't get his mind off Fallon. He'd gotten to like the old guy without ever knowing much about him. He wondered if Fallon had any relatives back in the States. He had to have somebody, a son or a daughter someplace, a cousin, a niece or nephew, somebody. Nobody would ever know he had died, or where. Maybe he could be reburied when this was all over, with a proper marker. Shit, what a lousy way to go.
He glanced back at the others. The trail was much better now as it descended. On impulse, he increased speed and went off after Nachita who scouted in front.
He came over a small rise and went down to a sloping plateau of sand and shale dotted with mesquite and cactus trees. Several hundred yards away a shoulder of the mountain lifted sharply toward the vast, sprawling peaks of the sierras.
On one side a canyon cut through sand-polished stone. On the other the slope was open to the desert, dropping through the tangle of catclaw and brush over shale and tilted slabs of rock to the desert below.
Nachita had dismounted below the shoulder of the mountain. When Dillinger drove up in the white convertible, which now had a film of sand and dirt on it, Nachita was squatting on his haunches beside his pony, examining the ground. Dillinger and Rose both got out of the car.
The barren soil was crisscrossed by tracks. Dillinger dropped to one knee and frowned.
"They have separated," Nachita said. "Nine of them have gone through the canyon, the others down to the desert."
"Why would they split up?"
Nachita shrugged. "Perhaps they have quarreled. Some of the young men, remembering what they have done, will already be afraid. Chato and Cochin confided in me. They think Ortiz is mad to go back to the last century, always fighting, always on the run. If Ortiz kills, they can be punished, too."
Dillinger took out a pack of chewing gum and offered a stick to Nachita, who shook his head. "Which way has Ortiz gone?" Dillinger asked.
"Into the desert. His pony has led all the way. Its tracks are easy to recognize."
The others rode up and dismounted. Rivera came forward, beating dust from his coat. "What has happened?"
"They've split up," Dillinger told him. "Ortiz and a party of six have ridden down into the desert. The rest have gone through the canyon. God knows where it leads to."
"How will we know which party Juanita is with?" Rivera asked.
Nachita said, "With Ortiz. He is no fool."
"I've been this way before," Villa said. "A long time ago. An old pack trail goes over the mountains. It's hardly used these days. There's a little chapel in the pine trees on top. Santa Maria del Agua Verde, it's called. Our Lady of the Green Water, because of the spring that bubbles up inside. It's the nearest water for forty miles."
Nachita shook his head. "There is water not a dozen miles from here where the foothills of the mountains run into the desert. Once there was small rancheria there. Now there are only adobe walls and a well."
"And that is where Ortiz is going?" Rivera asked.
Nachita nodded, and Chavasse said, "It makes sense. He's obviously made those who refused to follow him any longer take the tougher trail. Their tongues will be hanging out before they reach Agua Verde."
Rivera nodded. "This time he's played right into our hands."
"It's too easy," Dillinger said.
"You give Ortiz too much credit," Rivera said.
Chavasse shook his head. "I agree. It does sound too easy." He turned to Nachita. "Ortiz knows we're following. How can we hope to surprise him?"
The old Apache permitted himself one of his rare smiles. "There are ways, but we must wait and see. First I shall scout the trail." He mounted his pony and rode away.
Dillinger got the canteen from the back seat and offered it to Rose. She drank, then he did. As he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, he noticed that she was looking at him in a different way.
"Johnny," she said. "Your friend Fallon knew who you really are. Now the only one is Rivera. If your enemy knows, shouldn't a friend know?"
Dillinger looked at her eyes, the feature that had first attracted him to her. Would the truth blow everything up?
"Come on, Rose," he said matter-of-factly, "you know who I am."
"I know you robbed banks up North. I know you are too familiar with guns. The Federalistas are looking for this car, but who are you?"
Women always find out, sooner or later. He knew that. "If Johnny is the first part," she said, "is Dillinger the second?"
"You win the big prize."
"If I had to fall in love with a thief, why not the best?"
"The best are the bankers. They steal from the people every day and get away with it.
When I unload them once in a while, all it does is raise their insurance rates a bit. It doesn't stop them from stealing."
"You are justifying breaking the law because others break the law, too?"
"That's the whole point, Rose. Those bastards don't break the law, they steal legally. We break the law taking it away from them. Is your uncle any different from a bank robber?"
"Yes," she said.
Was she challenging him? "How?"
"He's worse. To him, killing is a normal part of business, of getting what he wants."
"Yet you talk to him like there was nothing ever bad between you."
"Only until Juanita is found."
"And then?"
"I must see if I have caught a thief."
It was perhaps half an hour later that Dillinger saw the old man galloping toward him, and he braked to a halt. Nachita pulled up alongside.
"I have found them," Nachita said. "Follow me slowly."
There was a place in the distance where a narrow spine of rock ran out into the desert like a causeway. As they approached, the old man led the way to the shelter of a narrow ravine. Dillinger killed the engine.<
br />
Nachita dismounted from his horse and started up the steep slope. Dillinger and Rose followed.
It was hard going, and the old man pulled him down just before they reached the top.
"Careful, now."
They stayed in the cover of a dead pine, and Dillinger peered over. Several hundred yards away a ridge lifted out of the ground, dipping in toward the mountain.
Nachita said, "The ruins and the well are on the other side in a hollow."
"You're sure they are there?"
"There is a sentry posted in the hillside in a mesquite thicket below the first gully. An open attack would be useless."
Rose said, "Why attack, anyway? Can't we just negotiate whatever it is Ortiz wants for the child?"
Nachita paused before answering. "It is possible," he said, "that I can approach their camp openly. I can cry out to the sentry from cover, say I am Nachita come to powwow with Ortiz."
"What would happen?" Dillinger asked.
"Ortiz would either kill me or powwow."
"We can't take that chance," Rose said.
"Even if we were to talk," Nachita said, "Ortiz is likely to ask for something we cannot give him."
"Like what?" Dillinger asked.
"Rivera's life." Nachita sighed. "We will wait for the others.
Dillinger, sitting on the running board of the Chevy next to Rose, could see them coming for quite some distance. For the moment there was only the heat and the desert. A small green lizard appeared from the bush a few feet away, life in a dead world. He watched it for a while. It disappeared with extraordinary rapidity as the others rode up.
Rivera stood in front of a boulder, his arms crossed. The others squatted in a semicircle before Nachita and Dillinger, who explained the situation.
"It would seem that we haven't a hope in hell of surprising them," Chavasse said.
Nachita nodded and rose to his feet. "We must make them come to us. It is the only way."
"And how do we do that?" Rivera demanded.
"I will show you."
They followed him out into the desert toward a ridge with a narrow gully through its center that made a natural entrance. The spine of rock petered out perhaps a hundred yards further on.
"Two riders must go out into the desert. Once beyond the point they will be seen."
"And Ortiz will give chase?" Chavasse asked.
The old man nodded. "The rest of the party will be hidden behind the ridge. Once Ortiz and his men follow their quarry through that gully, the rest will be simple."
"Why two riders?" Dillinger asked.
Nachita shrugged. "One man alone might look suspicious, but two might indicate that we also have split our party."
"And my daughter?" Rivera demanded.
"She will undoubtedly be left with a guard. I will work my way across the mountainside on foot and enter the camp from behind while you occupy them here."
"It's a good plan," Rivera said slowly.
"It only remains to decide who is to act as decoy," Villa put in softly. "An unenviable task."
Dillinger sighed. "I think the bait would look a whole lot stronger if I drove out there in the convertible with the top down as if I didn't have a care in the world."
There was silence, then Nachita said, "I agree, but there should still be someone with you. If you are alone, it would be suspicious."
Rose said, "He is not alone."
Chavasse tried to object. "I'll go, not Rose."
"Wrong," Rose said. "If we've been observed before this..."
"I'm certain we have," Nachita said.
"Then we should seem the same. I will be the passenger."
Nachita said, "Good, it is settled. Give me fifteen minutes, then move out."
He turned and ran lightly across the broken ground, disappearing into the jumbled mass of boulders that littered the hillside. The rest of the party started to make ready.
Dillinger took the magazine drum out of the Thompson, checked that everything was working, and fitted it carefully back into place. Then he took the clip from the butt of the Colt, emptied it, and reloaded again with care, as if his life might depend on it. He put the Thompson on the floor to the right of the accelerator, next to Rose's rifle.
Rose leaned over and kissed his cheek. "For luck," she said.
"I told you we'd come out of this thing, didn't I?" He grinned. "Besides, I've been chased before." He replaced the Colt in its shoulder holster and put the top of the convertible down. Getting behind the wheel, he said, "Let's go."
He turned on the ignition and drove away slowly, waving to Chavasse behind a boulder. Rivera and Villa had taken up positions directly opposite.
Far out in the desert the parched earth faded into the sky, and the mesquite glowed with a strange incandescence as if at any moment it might burst into flame.
They rounded the point and moved across a wide plain. A high ridge swelled from the ground between them and the ruined rancheria. Dillinger glanced casually toward it, but no sound disturbed the heavy stillness.
"Now you know what it is like to be a fox," he told her.
"This could get on my nerves very easily," Rose said.
At that moment they heard baying. Rose turned to see six Apaches sweep over the hill and plunge down toward them, in full cry.
Dillinger slammed on his brakes, throwing up a cloud of dust, momentarily concealing them, as he turned the Chevy, backed up, and then turned back the way they had come, straight at the Apaches pursuing them.
As the bone-dry dust boiled beneath the hooves of the Apaches' horses, the Indians suddenly saw their quarry in the white automobile disappear in a cloud of dust and a moment later emerge heading toward them. They reined in the frightened horses, but the car kept coming right at them, and as the Apaches turned their horses' heads to retreat, they were met by Villa and Chavasse and Rivera firing directly at them.
Dillinger stopped the car sideways across the road. Rose took the first shot at the attackers, hitting one of them, whose riderless horse kept wheeling around. Dillinger was afraid to use the Thompson at that distance, so he gunned up the Chevy and, his foot all the way down on the gas, ran it straight at the nearest of the Apaches, who lost his balance trying to get his horse out of the way of the charging automobile and slid from the saddle, only to have Villa's bullets thud into him as he hit the ground.
It was all over. Miraculously, none of Dillinger's group had been hurt. Rivera quickly checked out the dead Indians. None of them was Ortiz.
Fifteen
There was no sign of the child at the camp. Rivera was furious. Somehow Nachita had made a mistake. They had followed the wrong group.
Dillinger and Rose left the Chevy at the side of the road down below and climbed up to the camp in the hollow beside the well. Nachita had lit a fire and squatted before it, waiting for coffee to boil. He glanced up, and Dillinger walked past him to the crumbling adobe walls.
It was strangely quiet, the heat blanketing all sound, and then a small wind moved across the face of the plain, rustling through the mesquite with a sibilant whispering that touched something inside him.
Was the kid dead? Was all of this useless? He remembered his own childhood, full of hope. When he'd enlisted in the Navy, his heart was high, but he'd hated the regimentation. He didn't want to be ordered around by anyone. That's when he went AWOL, got sentenced to solitary for ten days, his first imprisonment. Was all life like that, the smashing of good hope? Or was he just too damn tired now to think sensibly?
Rose came toward him, the Cordoban hat dangling from her neck. Instinctively, she put an arm around him, a bandage around his pain. When she spoke, there was a strange poignancy in her voice.
"There's nothing quite so sad as the ruins of a house."
"Hopes and dreams," Dillinger said. "Gone."
He turned, looking out over the desert again, and she moved beside him. Their shoulders touched. She started to tremble.
There were so m
any things he could have said as he held her close for a moment.
"Let's go and have a cup of coffee," he said.
The others were sitting round the fire as they approached. Chavasse and Rivera had obviously been having words.
"What's wrong now?" Dillinger demanded.
"All at once, everything's Nachita's fault," Chavasse said.
"He's supposed to be able to follow a trail, isn't he?" Rivera said.
Jack Higgins - Dillinger Page 15
