Rio (18 page)

The other licked his dry lips. “I’m worried. You know that old Texas saying: ‘What goes around comes around and your sins will find you out.’”

Edwin cursed, then threw back his head and laughed.
“Nonsense. Surely you aren’t naive enough to believe that some old bearded guy who calls himself God is going to come down from the sky to mete out justice? That’s superstitious hogwash.”

“I don’t know about that. Sometimes—”

“Now get out of here and you three take a nice vacation to Dallas or Kansas City. There’s not going to be any trouble as long as you stick by your stories.”

“All right.” The man seemed uncertain, but he left.

“Damn all these weak people and their consciences.” Edwin took one more puff and tossed the fine cigar in the brass spittoon. No, he couldn’t have anyone testifying; he might not be able to depend on them. What he would do was have the sheriff arrange a fake jail break, and wouldn’t it be too bad if that Mexican got shot as he escaped? That would wrap everything up neatly.

About that time, there was a knock at the door and Elmer stuck his head in.

“What is it you want?” Edwin sat down behind his big desk.

“Sheriff Barnes came by while you were in conference. He said you might like to know that Mexican got bailed out.”

“What? Who? Never mind, I can guess. Now get out of here, I’m busy,” Edwin snapped.

He stared out the window and tried to plan. So the Du-rangos must have come through with the bail money. But the Durangos didn’t have the legal power here in Austin that Edwin did. That still involved a trial. Damn it.

Now where would that Mexican bastard go after he got out of jail? Back to his ranch, of course.

Late that afternoon, Edwin drove to the Boxing Ring, a seedy saloon in the worst part of town, and entered through
the side door. The unshaven, scarred owner nodded to him and quickly ushered him into a back room. “I’m honored, Senator, to—”

“Shut up, Hamilton.” Edwin frowned. “I need some really tough hombres.”

The other nodded. “I got ’em: Brown and Gilbert.”

“I’ll pay good and in cash.”

“Okay. What do you want us to do?”

He leaned toward the muscular man. “You used to be a boxer, didn’t you?”

“Yep. Fifty fights, almost got a crack at the big time. They called me ‘the Hammer.’”

Edwin pulled out a wad of cash from his wallet and laid it on the scarred table. “I want you to get Brown and Gilbert and pay a call on an hombre for me.”

The unshaven one didn’t blink, only gathered up the money, whistling at the amount. “For this, you want we should kill him?”

“No, that might bring too much notice. I just want your mugs to pay him a little visit and encourage him to leave Austin, go back to Mexico where he belongs, but first I’m going to offer him a bribe. If that doesn’t work, I’ll let you know and you boys can deal with him.” Quickly he told of his plan and the other man nodded.

Then Edwin slipped out of the saloon, went by his bank, and took out twenty-five thousand dollars in gold, then returned to his office, vastly pleased with himself. If the va-quero left town suddenly, the girl would think he didn’t care about her and Edwin might have another chance.

Turquoise wouldn’t be the first woman to be swayed by luxury and gifts. She could learn to love him, Edwin thought, and anyway, he wanted her enough for both of them. A May-December marriage could work out and he would smother her with gifts and adoration; anything to get her in his bed, to be his possession so that he could caress
her, make love to her every night. There would be children and he would make her so happy that this poor Mexican cowboy would become only a faint memory, and eventually, she would forget about that vaquero completely.

Edwin stood up and smiled. Yes, this evening he would call on the Mexican himself, and if that didn’t work, the toughs could deal with him.

Edwin pulled out his gold watch and looked at the time.

Elmer stuck his head in the door. “Can I leave now, Senator?”

“Sure. I’m ready to go home anyway. I think Mama is planning one of her soirees and she’ll expect me to show up for that, dull as they are.”

Edwin waited a few minutes, then walked down the empty halls and out to his buggy. It was growing dark as he drove out to the small ranch. A dog began to bark as he pulled up the road past the burned barn and the small horseshoeing shed and reined in in front of the adobe house.

“Who’s there?” A big man with a rifle came out on the porch, accompanied by a little terrier, barking frantically.

“Call off the dog,” Edwin called. “It’s a friendly visit.”

“Show your hands.” He didn’t put down the rifle, but he told the little mutt to hush and it lay down obediently.

Edwin picked up the carpet bag and stepped down, holding up both hands and smiling. “I don’t carry a gun. I’m a law-abiding citizen.”

He stepped toward Rio and the Mexican scowled. “Oh, it’s you, Senator. What is it you want?”

“Where’s your hired hands?” Edwin looked around.

“Only had one and I couldn’t afford to keep him.”

“Aren’t you going to invite me in?” Edwin didn’t want to make any fast moves. Most ranchers were good with a rifle.

“I reckon.” The other man grudgingly lowered the gun. “What is it you want?”

Edwin walked up on the porch, still carrying the carpet bag. “I’ve come to do you a favor.”

“When a politician says he’s going to do me a favor, I’ve learned he’s probably going to raise my taxes or steal something.” He opened the door and gestured Edwin to come in.

“I resent that,” Edwin said, but he came into the humble house anyway and looked around. It was cozy and clean, but so small and humble, it depressed him. He tried to imagine his darling Turquoise here, but winced. She deserved a fine house and plenty of servants, which he intended to give her. He took a chair and waited for the other man to sit down.

Rio frowned at him, still holding the rifle. The little dog growled at him even though Edwin snapped his fingers at it. He really hated dogs.

“What is it you want?”

Edwin tried to smile like he did to the voters. “I heard you were having problems and since you’re one of my constituents, I thought I’d try to help you.”

“I voted for your opponent,” Rio said and didn’t smile.

“That’s okay. I’m very well-off, so they say, and I heard you had financial difficulties and thought I might help you out.”

“Why?” Rio didn’t smile and rested the rifle against the wall next to him.

“I thought you might want to make a fresh start and get away to Mexico while you still can.”

“You mean, jump bail, turn tail, and run?”

“Well, if you want to put it that way,” Edwin stuttered. “Surely, man, you know you haven’t got much of a chance with an Anglo jury. I’m prepared to give you enough money to live comfortably down in Mexico. I brought it with me.”

He shrank back under Rio’s cold stare. “And you would do this why?”

“Because I’m soft-hearted and I don’t want to see you hang.”

“I don’t believe you,” Rio snapped.

“Look.” Edwin opened the carpet bag. “I’ve got the money to prove it. All you have to do is take it, pack up, and be gone by morning and not tell anyone you’re leaving. You’ll get a whole new life over the border, plenty of beer and cantina whores.”

Rio shook his head and stood up. “Sorry, there’s a woman who holds me here in Texas. Besides, I’m not one to run from trouble.”

Now Edwin was angry and he stood up, too. “Look, let’s call a spade a spade. I’m in love with Turquoise Sanchez and I can offer her everything you can’t: a life of luxury and privilege. Why, she’ll probably end up as first lady of Texas.”

Rio didn’t say anything for a long moment, slowly nodding. “So that’s it. You want to pay me to leave so you can have her.”

“You must admit it would be better for both of you.” Edwin was pleading now. “It would save you from hanging and she would gradually forget you and marry me. You don’t have anything to offer her.”

“You’re right about that.” Rio looked sad. “It’s selfish of me to want her. I have nothing to offer but my undying love and devotion. You can give her all those things she craved since she was small: social status, respectability, a big house.”

“So you’ll do it?” Edwin held out the carpet bag.

Rio smiled without mirth and shook his head. “In the first place, Senator, if I jump bail, Trace Durango, who trusts me, will lose ten thousand dollars and I’m too honorable to do that to him.”

“There’s enough here to pay him back and still enough
for you to live like a king down in Mexico.” He held out the carpet bag.

Rio stared at the bag but he didn’t take it. “True, you can give her more than I can, but if you’ll remember, Senator, we just fought a war over whether one man can buy and sell other people. I can’t be bought and I’m not sure Turquoise can be bought, either.”

“Of course she can!” Edwin’s voice raised. “All women can be bought with wealth and trinkets. She’d be mine if you left town.”

“I think you underestimate her, Senator. I would bet my life that Turquoise has changed and that you can’t buy her. Now get out of my house and take your suitcase full of money with you.” He opened the door and glared at the shorter man. “You heard me, get out!”

“You’ll regret this,” Edwin growled, clutching his bag of gold coins. He didn’t quite understand this cowboy. Rio was poor, but he was refusing money. Honor was something a poor cowboy couldn’t afford. He brushed past the big man and strode across the porch to his buggy.

“Get off my ranch before I shoot you,” Rio yelled behind him and Edwin hurried his steps, hopped into his buggy, whipped up the startled black horse, and took off down the road at a fast pace.

When Edwin looked back, Rio stood on the porch glaring after him, rifle in hand, little spotted dog by his side.

“All right,” Edwin grumbled under his breath as he drove away, “I gave you a chance to clear out, but no, you were too stubborn. Now I’ll make you wish you had taken my deal.”

When his henchmen got through with that Mexican, Rio would wish he’d never been born.

Rio spent a sleepless night trying to figure out what to do. He awoke early, made some strong coffee, and dressed.
No matter what happened, he needed to earn some money. He walked down to his little blacksmith shop and built up the forge fire, began to work. He had broken wheels and plows to mend, horses coming in later to be shod. Besides, working kept his mind off his problems.

Rio worked hard all day, delighting in the toil that kept his body and his mind busy. As twilight came on, he lit a lantern and continued to pound hot iron and shape it. He half-hoped, half-dreaded the fact that Turquoise might come by. The situation had not changed except that he was out on bail and could hold her and make love to her now. The thought of her warm embrace and soft mouth came to him and he sighed. She had ruined him for all other women.

He was intent on his work when he thought he heard a horse whinny. It didn’t sound like one of his. Tip had been asleep on the dirt floor next to him and now the dog raised its head and growled. Rio stared out into the blackness of the night past his dim lantern glow, finally deciding it was just a passing buggy.

“Go back to sleep, Tip,” he told the little dog and returned to his work, the sound of his hammer cloaking any other sounds.

Abruptly Tip was up and barking frantically even as a man’s voice behind him said, “Drop that hammer and don’t turn around.”

Instinctively, Rio turned, bringing the hammer up as a weapon, but now there were several men and one of them cracked him across the head with a rifle butt. Dizzy and half-blinded, he stumbled and fought as Tip barked and barked and then heard the dog yip as someone kicked it.

“My dog! Damn you! Don’t hurt my dog!” He staggered, but in the darkness, he couldn’t see his attackers except he knew they were big. One hit him again and the hammer dropped from his limp hand. When he came to, they were
tying him up. He tried to get a look at their faces, but one voice said, “Putagunnysack over his head quick, you idiots!”

He was so dizzy, he thought he would pass out. He couldn’t see Tip anywhere and he tried to break free, but the men’s sheer weight took him to his knees. He fought as hard as he could but they tied his hands to his sides and now a sack over his head blocked out his sight. The sack smelled of dust and old grain and his head ached. He could feel something warm running down his forehead and wondered if it were blood. “What do you bastards want? I don’t have any money.”

That man laughed and said, “That’s not what we’re after.” To the others, he snapped, “Spill the coal oil on everything. We’ll set fire to the place after I’m finished with him.”

“No!” Rio tried to fight again, but they had his legs tied together. This business and his house were all he had left and he’d fight to the death to protect them.

He could smell the coal oil now being splashed around the shop. “Why are you doing this? I got no quarrel with—”

The men only laughed and one man said, “Stand him on his feet and drag him to the anvil. I’ve got my orders. Untie his right hand and put it up there—yes, that one with the clover tattoo. We’ll see how lucky it is for him.”

Rio cursed and fought, but they forced his hand up on the anvil, spreading it out.

“Now,” said the rough voice, “before you burn to death, I have a personal message for you.”

What? Who hated him this much? Even as he thought that, he heard the swish of a hammer coming down full force on his hand and the agony of the blow. He couldn’t stop himself from crying out.

“That’s good,” said his attacker with a laugh. “It’s broken. He’ll be crippled for life, or at least the few minutes he has left. Let’s get out of here, men.”

They let go of him and Rio collapsed on the dirt floor of the shoeing shed. His hand must be broken because it felt on fire and his bloody head throbbed. He lay there, only half-conscious, and heard someone strike a match.

“Let’s go!” the man yelled and Rio heard the sound of running feet and the rush of flames followed by the sound of horses’ hooves as they galloped away.