El Paso Way (17 page)

“I'm a lawman like yourself,” Dutton said. “From Tucson. My posse deserted me.”

“I'm sure I know why. Valdar's a hard character. As bad as I've ever known. But if you think I'm going to just tell you where to find him and let you go off on your own, you're mistaken.”

“I'm willing to compromise, Sheriff.”

“If I knew, we'd already be after him. It ain't just me and fellers like you. There's an army major and a regiment over at Fort Bliss that wants Valdar's hide, as well as a Texas Ranger outfit camped by the river. Hell they got a thousand-dollar reward out for him, and bounty hunters around here are thicker than January molasses. I'm quite sure none of them are aware Valdar is around or you'd see Rangers and uniformed men all over this town trying to weed him out.”

Dutton looked at the floor, thinking. “Valdar surely knows there's that much of a price on his head.”

“You bet he does. He's got
amigos
like roaches all over this town. There's no telling who you can trust and who you can't. I think he even enjoys the chase.”

“Then that will make him hard to find,” Enrique said. “If the army comes out, then it will be much harder.”

“You make a good point,” the lawman said. He looked at Dutton. “I'd give a year's pay to get rid of that evil son of a bitch and get things back to normal around here.”

Dutton sat in a chair in front of the desk, took his hat off, and hung it on his knee. Enrique stood by the door.

“Give us the night,” Dutton said. “Let us find out where he is, then we'll come to you and you can alert Fort Bliss and the Ranger party. Maybe we can surround him, smoke him out, and gun him down.”

The lawman seemed to ponder the idea.

Enrique stepped close to the desk and slammed a fist on its top. “Like hell!”

Both men were startled by his reaction.

“I did not ride this far and spend half of my life waiting to kill this man to have him gunned down by the army. His blood is mine!”

Dutton combed a hand through his hair and sighed. “
Amigo
, I respect your feelings, but you ought to know by now that Valdar is not one to tangle with alone. You've been close enough to see the evil in his eyes. You ought to be thankful that we've got the support here that we have. For your family's sake, let's put an end to this man.”

Enrique glared at Dutton, then at the lawman, and turned and walked out, slamming the door behind him. Pang stood between the horses, anxiously awaiting his report, but Enrique only paced the planked walk, back and forth, cursing and biting his upper lip.

“What is it?” Pang said.

Enrique stopped pacing and glared at him. “Tell me, could you live the rest of your life knowing someone else killed Valdar rather than you with your own hands?”

Pang wrinkled his brow. “I'd never really thought of it any other way.”

“Me neither.”

“But he is one man, and you and I both want his blood. Who is to say which one of us gets the glory?”

Enrique chewed on the Chinaman's words. He'd never really thought of it either. But he supposed now that so long as he had a role in it, and it was either him or Pang who killed Valdar, he could live with it. But he'd be damned if he would stand idle while they waited for the army to fire their bullets into the Demon Warrior.

The door opened and Dutton stepped out, his hat donned. He only looked at Enrique for a short moment then went to his horse.

“Where are we going?” Enrique said.

Dutton mounted his horse and pointed a chin to the east. “There's a place yonder that the sheriff said is a hangout for friends of Valdar. I thought we'd pay a visit.”

Enrique didn't have to think about it and quickly mounted his horse. Pang followed, and Dutton turned to them both.

“I'm not going to tell either of you what to do, but I'm warning you to stay calm and keep your wits about you.”

“Have I failed you yet, Sheriff?” Enrique said.

“Don't worry about me,” he said. “Just be careful not to fail yourself.”

* * *

They turned off the street and down an alley that took them out of the direct sunlight, shaded as it was by two-story buildings on each side. Halfway to the sunny end of the alley, they came to a nook and a back entrance. Dutton stopped and dismounted and the others followed.

“What is this place?” Enrique said.

“My understanding is it's a private back-room saloon frequented only by the roughest of characters. In other words, friends of Valdar.”

They tied their horses and Dutton pulled out each of his revolvers and checked the cylinder. Once satisfied, he cracked his knuckles and motioned to the door. “Let me do the talking, and follow my lead.”

“Do you want me to stay with the horses?” Pang said.

“No, not this time,” Dutton said. “We're likely to need you more inside.”

“What if Valdar is in there?” Enrique said. “A Chinaman will stand out, and he will certainly recognize us.”

Dutton exhaled. “You're right. Regardless, if there's trouble, Pang won't know it unless he's inside. Pang, keep your hat brim down low. You're dressed like a Mexican, and it's likely dark enough in there that no one will know unless they see your face.”

Pang nodded.

“All right, boys,” Dutton said. “God be with us.”

* * *

The room was dark, as they'd expected. It smelled of perfume and sweat and smoke from cigars. It was a small room, not much bigger than the
taberna
at Hachita, but with a door in each wall led to another room. In the first room there was a solitary table with an oil lamp on it and four empty chairs around it. The lamp was lit but still shed very little light on the windowless room.

Though the room was empty, they could hear voices and the laughing of women. They walked forward and peeked into the other room, and there were several men sitting on stuffed chairs while women in corsets gave them liquor to drink and bare skin to touch. They found a table against the wall and sat down. Enrique acknowledged a stairway in the far corner of the room and a short balcony above.

A woman came to them. She was young, with long brown hair and brown eyes, but not a Mexican. Enrique saw something familiar in her eyes, but thought little of it.

“This is a private place. You do not belong here.” Her voice was hollow and coarse, without emotion.

Dutton pulled out his leather pouch of silver and tossed four coins on the table. “Whiskey if you got it. Preferably the Tennessee or Kentucky kind.”

The young woman looked at the coins cautiously. “I see that it is not only whiskey that you want.”

“Bring the bottle,” Dutton said. “And tell your boss we have business.”

She swiped up the coins. Enrique kept looking at her face. She returned a few minutes later with a bottle and three shot glasses. She poured for them. Dutton was quick to slug his whiskey down, but Pang hesitated. Enrique leaned forward to have a better look at the young woman.

“I've seen you somewhere before,” he said.

The young woman looked at him closely and studied him for a moment, then poured Dutton another shot. “No, I would remember. I do not know you.”

Enrique brought up his glass and drank half of the whiskey in it. He stretched his mouth then closed his eyes and drank the rest. The woman tried to pour him another, but he grabbed her wrist. Whiskey slopped out of the bottle and onto the table. She looked at his hand, then directly at him.

“Are you sure,
señorita
?” he said.

“I do not know you.” She jerked her arm from his grasp and walked away.

Enrique thought long and hard about her. He was sure of his intuition, but he could not place her. The only location he likely could have seen her was Tucson. It was the only place where he'd seen other people, especially a woman like this. Very few strangers ever wandered into the mission. Especially women, or beautiful women for that matter. But there was something different about her. And it was in her eyes that he had seen it.

They watched her walk up the stairs and to a door by the balcony. She knocked and a wedge of light appeared for a moment, then a man appeared at the rail. His face was dark and leathery, clean-shaven but sun-worn like a dried apple. He looked over the rail at them, shook his head, spoke something to the woman, then went back into the room and closed the door. She walked back down the stairs, holding up her cotton skirt as she stepped. This was the first time Enrique had seen her from this point of view. Though she was attractive, she was not done up and she looked tired and overworked.

She walked back to their table and looked directly at Dutton. “My
patrón
says he does not know you and wishes you to have your drink and leave.”

She turned to walk away, but Dutton stopped her.

“Tell your
patrón
that we have three young girls with golden hair at our camp and we're looking for a buyer.”

Enrique was surprised at Dutton's boldness.

The woman looked at Dutton silently for a moment, then back at Enrique. “You do not look like the type. You look more like bounty hunters, or maybe Rangers. I must ask you to leave now.”

She walked away and left the room through a swinging door that led to a kitchen. A minute later she walked back in and tended to her business as if nothing had ever happened. Then men appeared in the same doorway—three altogether, young men, all Mexican, with guns holstered at their sides and one with a shotgun in his hands. They spread out across the room.

“Oh, here we go,” Dutton said.

A realization suddenly hit Enrique.
“Dios mío!”
He stood from his chair and turned toward the woman.

“Hang on there, pardner,” Dutton said. “We can't just go head-to-head with these
hombres
.”

Enrique walked toward the woman. Dutton and Pang shared their confusion, then followed him immediately, and the man closest to the bar moved in. Enrique stopped, grabbed the woman's arm, and turned her toward him. She looked at him with scared eyes.

“
Tengo hambre
,” he said.

She looked perplexed. “This is not a
restaurante
,
señor
.”

They stared at each other silently, and the more he looked at her, the more sure he was.

“But only you know what I like. Remember, Amelia?
Huevos con pimientas
—”

Her jaw dropped then quivered, and her eyes studied him and welled with tears.

A shotgun blast went off. Enrique grabbed his sister and pushed her to the floor. Across the room the entertaining women screamed, and along with their customers they dove for cover.

Dutton picked up a chair and threw it at one of the armed men. It gave the sheriff just enough time to run and tackle the man, wrestle him, and knock him out cold. Pang somersaulted then dodged another man, kicking the shotgun before he could shoot. He then punched the man's stomach and flipped him over his head to crash onto a table. The third man came running and aimed his pistol at Pang. Enrique threw his knife, and it stuck directly in the Mexican's chest. He groaned and grimaced, shot his pistol aimlessly, then fell to the floor.

All the commotion brought the man upstairs out of his room. He drew a pistol and shot three quick rounds. Pang dove to the floor for cover, but Dutton growled and grabbed at his abdomen.

“Sheriff!” Enrique yelled. A deafening shotgun blast rang out from behind him, and the man on the balcony dropped his pistol then fell headfirst over the rail and down onto the tables near Pang below. Enrique looked behind him to find Amelia holding a smoking shotgun.

He looked at her, her face gleaming and wet from tears. She looked at Enrique, dropped the gun, and sobbed. He embraced her. “Amelia!”

He held her tight as she cried. But it was not for long, as she looked up into his eyes then held his face with both hands.
“Mi hermano. Por fin, mi hermano
.
”

“I am in disbelief,” he said. “I have long dreamed of this day.”

She smiled lightly, her dark eyes very wet with tears. “I, too, have dreamed of this day. Just look at you. You have grown into a man.” Then her face grew solemn. “But it is not safe for you here. You must go.”

He grabbed both of her arms. “I am not leaving without you.”

“You have to, Enrique. He will kill you!”

He gripped her arms tighter, clenched his teeth. “I have waited my life to find you, Amelia. It was my life's will to do so. If I were to leave here without you, I would rather die. So risk my life to save you I will.”

Pang shouted across the room. “The sheriff has been shot!”

Enrique and Amelia ran to him. Dutton lay on his back, grimacing, his face sweating and his shirt soaked with blood.

Enrique kneeled at his side. “Is it bad, Sheriff?”

“One grazed my arm,” he said. “Then another went in and out my side. I'll be okay if we can stop the bleeding.”

“He must have a doctor,” Amelia said. “I will show you, but we have to get out of here quickly. My
patrón
has many friends.”

They all agreed and helped wrap Dutton's wounds with makeshift bandages that Amelia made from bar towels. Enrique and Pang each held a side of Dutton and helped him walk out the door and into the alley. They stayed in the alley and walked a block away to a back door, where Amelia knocked. There was no answer, so she knocked again, several times and louder.

“I'm coming!” said a voice on the other side. The door opened, and a bald, gray-bearded man wearing glasses and a black vest looked out at them. He looked at Dutton and down at the blood and told them to bring him in.

The doctor had them put him on a wooden examining table. Dutton grimaced while the doctor removed the bandages. Blood ran down the table and dripped onto the floor.