American Blood (25 page)

"I want Archuleta brought to justice. As long as he is free, no one is safe. But while I think he is a murderer, I do not consider him a traitor."

Beaubien dismissed that distinction with a gesture. "It matters not. Archuleta will not be taken alive." He turned back to Grail. "You will see to that, won't you Senor? I will write a letter that will permit you to talk to the prisoners. There is one condition."

"Of course, sir."

"I want to see Diego Archuleta's corpse with my own eyes. I want to be absolutely certain, beyond a shadow of doubt, that he is
muerto."

But that will not help you sleep
, thought Delgado sadly.

Armed with the letter from Judge Beaubien, Grail and Delgado crossed the snow-covered plaza to the jail. The Taos sheriff, an American, had been among those slain by Archuleta's rebels, and since no one, perhaps understandably, had stepped forward to take his place, the safekeeping of the prisoners was the responsibility of Doniphan's Rifles. A half dozen volunteers stood guard. Grail presented the letter to a lieutenant who was the officer in charge. As they were allowed into the cell block, a vivid memory assailed Delgado—of going with Sarah Bledsoe to the St. Louis jail to visit the abolitionist, Jeremiah Rankin, of running the gauntlet of men who prowled the Market Street square with murder in their hearts. Sarah had been determined to save Rankin from a lynching; now here was Langdon Grail with the power to save one of the rebel leaders from the hangman's noose. Odd, thought Delgado, how once again he was being drawn, more or less against his will, into a game of life and death.

"My Spanish is atrocious," Grail told him. "Will you be so kind as to translate?"

"Of course."

"Show each man this letter. It bears Judge Beaubien's signature. In it he promises to suspend the death sentence of the man who tells me where Diego Archuleta can be found. That is all I need to know. Nothing more need be said. We will start with these men."

He indicated the trio of prisoners confined in the first strap iron cell. One sat in a corner of the barren cell, a second leaned against the far wall, beneath the small, barred window, and the third
lay on a blanket spread across the cold stone floor. There was no heat in the cell block, and Delgado knew the prisoners must be suffering terribly from the below-freezing temperatures. He had to remind himself that these men had been identified as the instigators of a revolt that had cost many innocent people their lives, including his father. Still, he felt sympathy for them. Perhaps Jeremy was right. It might have been better, more humane, had they been promptly executed by firing squad. That would be a more dignified death. Better for them, anyway, since now they would spend the last days of their lives dreading the long walk to the gallows.

All but one of them, anyway—the one who saved his own life by condemning Diego Archuleta to death.

He held up the letter so that the three cell mates could see it.

"Judge Beaubien will suspend the death sentence of the man who tells us where Diego Archuleta can be found."

None of them moved or spoke. They glared at him with their dark, doomed eyes.

"You will live if you tell us."

No response.

"Next cell," snapped Grail.

Delgado moved to the next cell and repeated the offer. There were four men in this strap iron cage. Grail gave them thirty seconds to think it over. No more, no less. He had no compassion for the condemned. He did not care whether they lived or died, as long as he got what he was after, the location of his prey.

"Next cell."

And so four more men were doomed.

In the third cell was the man Langdon Grail had been looking for.

"I know where he is," said the Mexican even before Delgado could begin his statement. He had heard the deal twice offered. He didn't need a third rendition. "I will tell you."

"Bastard!" snarled one of his cell mates. "Diego will kill you."

"No," said a third man. "Diego will not have the chance."

He hurled himself at the betrayer, bearing him to the floor and throttling him with both hands and banging his head against the cold, smooth stones.

Grail calmly drew a Colt Paterson .36 from under his longcoat, aimed through the strap iron, and fired. His bullet struck the third man in the back of the head. The man's skull seemed to come apart in a spray of pink mist. The corpse slumped forward, and the one who said he would betray Archuleta squirmed out from under the dead weight and flung himself at the cell door, gasping for air, his face streaked with blood, his eyes wide with fear.

"Get me out of here or I am a dead man!"

The lieutenant and one of his men had rushed into the cell block upon hearing the gunshot.

"Let this man out," said Grail.

The lieutenant didn't like Grail's peremptory tone, but he complied. Once freed, the Mexican clung to Grail.

"You have saved my life, senor. I am forever in your debt."

Grail shoved him roughly away. "Your life means less than nothing to me. You have saved yourself if you tell me what I need to know."

"I will. I swear it."

"If you lie to me, I'll throw you back in there with your friends. I doubt you will live long enough to hang."

"No, senor! I will not lie."

"Traitor!" snarled one of the prisoners.

"Let's go." Grail grabbed the Mexican's arm and took him into the small, spartan office adjacent to the cell block. Delgado followed. As much as he wanted Diego Archuleta to answer for the death of his father, he regretted now having taken part in this business.

4

"Archuleta is hiding out in the village of Truchas," Delgado told Hugh Falconer later that night. "Grail is leaving in the morning. I have decided to with him."

Falconer finished off his whiskey and poured himself another as he glanced at Delgado, seated in a chair by the fireplace, elbows on the arm of the chair, chin resting on clasped hands. Delgado was gazing moodily into the flames of the fire roaring in the big stone hearth.

"Just the two of you?" asked the mountain man.

"No. Colonel Doniphan is sending a company of men under the command of a Captain Cooper. Grail didn't want any soldiers along, but there was nothing he could do about it. The lieutenant in charge of the prisoners heard everything and informed Doniphan."

"Archuleta's probably not alone. Did this man Grail think he could do the job by himself?"

"Apparently. He's a killer, Hugh. I don't think
human life holds any value as far as he is concerned. And his job is to kill Archuleta. That might not be easy if the soldiers take him prisoner, and I have a feeling Colonel Doniphan wants him taken alive. He wants the people to see Archuleta get a fair trial. If you can call the kind of trial he will get fair."

"I don't think you should go, Del."

"I must."

"If something happens to you, what will become of your mother? I don't know that she could take the shock of losing you so soon after she's lost her husband."

Delgado allowed that Falconer had a valid point. His mother had seldom ventured out of her room since Angus McKinn's death. She was under a doctor's constant care. It was as though a big part of her had died with Angus, and Delgado didn't know if she would ever fully recover.

"I have to go," he decided. "I have to make sure Grail doesn't murder Archuleta."

Falconer folded his lanky, buckskin-clad frame into a chair facing Delgado.

"You're not really worried about Archuleta."

"No, I guess not. But if he is gunned down in cold blood, the revolution will have another martyr. I know, it seems now as though the rebellion has failed. But all that is needed to revive it is one spark. Remember that dragoon, Fitzgerald, shot down El Tomacito. One more incident like that and it could start all over again."

"Well," said Falconer, "I admire your motives."

"But not my methods?" Delgado smiled. "You said that very thing to me once before. Do you recall?"

"Sure I do. On the levee in St. Louis. You were
going to try to prevent Brent Horan from buying that slave girl."

"You stopped me then. You won't be able to stop me this time, though. My mind is made up, Hugh."

"I can tell." Falconer drank some more whiskey, contemplating the situation. "Truchas is up in the high country. On the divide, with no cover in any direction. Nothing but open ground and deep snow. Archuleta will see you coming for miles. You won't catch him by surprise, so you'll be in for a fight."

"If he dies fighting for what he believes in, that's better than being hanged as a traitor."

"I just don't want to see you die fighting for what you believe in, Del."

"So I guess that means you're coming along."

Falconer nodded.

"Not just for my sake, I hope."

"For your mother's sake, Del."

Again Delgado had to smile. "I know you'll be glad when Jeremy and I stop getting into trouble, won't you?"

Falconer sighed. "I wonder if that day will ever come?"

Chapter Ten

"The difference between murder and justice"

1

T
ruchas was a small collection of adobes that seemed to be perched on the top of the world. Up here, above the timberline, the snow lay deep and blinding white in great expanses. And, in spite of being clad as warmly as humanly possible, Delgado winced every time that wicked north wind came howling along the divide—which was often.

The Missouri volunteers suffered as much as he. Thanks to the legendary foresight of General Kearny, who had planned for every eventuality prior to marching out of Fort Leavenworth, including winter campaigning in the high country, they were each provided with a blue woolen long-coat. Most of them wore a scarf, muffler, or piece of cloth around their heads and knotted under their chins to keep their hats from being carried away by the capricious wind, and to keep their ears from freezing. They sat huddled in their saddles, some suffering in stoic silence, others cursing the snow, or the cold, or New Mexico, or President Polk, or themselves for being so foolish as to ever set foot out of Missouri.

Only Hugh Falconer appeared immune to the new elements. Wearing a heavy white capote—perfect camouflage on the snowfields—over his
buckskins, he didn't even seem to notice just how cold it was. Delgado reminded himself that this man had survived for many years in the mountains. The life of a trapper was one of constant hardship and general privation.

Although he didn't think he required a nursemaid, Delgado was glad to have Falconer along. No one was sure quite what to expect once they reached Truchas, but the frontiersman was one of those men who somehow knew exactly what do do in every eventuality. This came, Delgado supposed, from experience. There probably wasn't much Hugh Falconer hadn't seen. And danger was nothing new to him.

Having left Taos at daylight, they reached their destination about noon of the following day. They paused on the backside of a ridgeline, out of sight from the town. Falconer, Delgado, Grail, and Captain Cooper moved in a crouch to the rim and scanned the adobes a long rifle shot away. Smoke curled from a few chimneys. Several horses in a cedar-post corral pawed at the snow, trying to find some grass beneath the frozen crust. There was no one out in the open. Truchas, from what little Delgado knew of the place, was home to a handful of sheepherders and their families.

"Looks peaceful enough," mumbled Cooper. He forced the words out through clenched jaws, trying to keep his teeth from chattering.

Delgado had learned that Cooper—like Doniphan, a lawyer in civilian life—had seen some action as a volunteer during the Black Hawk War ten years ago. This experience had led to his election as a company commander in the First Missouri Mounted Rifles. His outfit had been one of the companies that had not been converted to in
fantry by Stephen Kearny. By all accounts, he and his men had acquitted themselves very well during the recent campaign against the revolutionaries. But Cooper, a capable man who had earned the loyalty of his men, knew his limitations. He was not accustomed to independent command, and had evinced a genuine interest in listening to good advice. For this reason he was as glad as Delgado that the legendary Hugh Falconer had consented to come along on this expedition.

True, the mountaintop village looked peaceful, but they all knew that looks could be deceiving. Delgado wondered, though, if Diego Archuleta was really here. Perhaps he had never been. Perhaps they had come all this way for nothing. Delgado hardly cared at this point. His one goal in life right now was to get warm again.
I would like to have some feeling in my hands and feet just once more
, he thought as he gazed longingly at the chimney smoke and imagined the cheerful little fires that produced it.

"Captain, maybe we should move in from two sides," suggested Falconer.

"That's a good idea. I'll take half the company around to the south."

Falconer nodded. "You do that. And keep below the skyline. If Archuleta is there, no point in letting him know we've come calling until we have to."

"Right," said Cooper.

"He had damn well better be there," said Langdon Grail.

"When we see you break cover," Falconer told Cooper, "we'll come in."

"Good."

"Luck, Captain."

"Let's hope we don't need too much luck." Cooper left them, returning to his men. Illness and injury had decimated the ranks of his company in the four months since Fort Leavenworth; there were only thirty-nine recruits fit to ride. Cooper took twenty of them and started his flanking maneuver around Truchas.

"Maybe I should ride in alone," said Delgado. "If Archuleta is there, he might be willing to give himself up."

"Doesn't matter if he's willing or not," said Grail.

"We could possibly save a few lives if we give him a chance to surrender," said Delgado.

"No," said Falconer. He glanced at Delgado with an apologetic smile. Delgado thought he resembled an Indian on the warpath; beneath his eyes he had daubed streaks of tobacco juice mixed with mud—this was an old trick designed to prevent snow blindness. "Too risky, Del," he added, sensing that his young friend was inclined to debate the issue. "Archuleta doesn't know you the way I do. He might not trust you. You can't tell what a man on the run with his back to the wall will do. Besides, Diego Archuleta isn't likely to give up without a fight."