The Border Empire (31 page)

“Por Dios,”
said El Lobo, “the Sandlin gang.”

“Some of them,” Wes said, “and with us unarmed, there'll be enough.”

Winchester lead kicked dirt in their faces, and there was little they could do. Their own weapons were in a soldier's saddlebag, and there was only open ground between them and the side arms the fallen soldiers carried.

“They soon get behind us,” said El Lobo.

It was a logical move, for there were six of the Sandlin outlaws, but the odds changed quickly. From behind them, a pair of Winchesters opened up, and three of the outlaws went down in the first volley. Two more were cut down trying to reach their horses, and a third died with his foot in the stirrup.

“We've a pair of
amigos
that's almighty good with a Winchester,” said Wes, dusting himself off.

El Lobo said nothing. He and Wes waited until Tamara and Renita reined up, and it was Tamara who spoke.

“Do you
hombres
approve of our shooting?”

“Sí,”
El Lobo said.

“The pair of you can ride with me anytime,” said Wes, “but why the hell did you kill the guards and break jail, when they aimed to set us free?”

“Damn you, Wes Stone,” Renita said angrily, “we didn't
know
you were going to be set free. For all we knew, the both of you were to be executed. We're being hunted as murderers, and after risking our lives to save you, this is the thanks we get.”

“Sorry,” said Wes. “I reckon I wasn't thinking. After today, we'll all be hunted as murderers. That bunch in Mexico City will never believe we didn't somehow kill those four soldiers.”

“There be six dead outlaws,” El Lobo said.

“True,” said Wes, “but it's unlikely Mexico City will search this far for four missing soldiers. When the horses wander back, with our weapons missing from the saddlebags, I expect El Lobo and me to be branded as killers for sure. This time they won't bother with a trial. We'll be shot on sight.”

“Sí,”
El Lobo agreed.

“We have learned one thing,” said Tamara. “The Sandlin outlaws attack the soldiers.”

“That could work in our favor,” Wes said, “if we can stay out of the hands of the soldiers until they clash with the outlaws. When these four
hombres
turn up missing, the military may want us as bad as or worse than the Sandlin gang.”

Wes and El Lobo recovered their Colts from the saddlebags of two of the dead soldiers. Mounting their own horses, they rode south, Tamara and Renita following.

Rarely did Ximinez visit the mansion Cord Sandlin occupied, so it came as a surprise to Sandlin when the Mexican rode in.

“I presume you have an important message,” Sandlin said.

“Of the utmost importance,” said Ximinez. “Señor Hidalgo has been arrested and has told all he knows. I escaped only because I did not return to the statehouse. I have told them nothing, and I will not. I depend on you for protection. You owe me.”

“I promise they'll never take you,” Sandlin said. “Let us drink to your loyalty.”

Sandlin took one of the glasses a servant brought, passing the other to Ximinez. The Mexican downed his drink in a single gulp, leaning back in his chair. Suddenly his body went rigid and his hands gripped the arms of the chair. His mouth worked, but there were no words. He turned hate-filled eyes on Sandlin, and the outlaw leader spoke.

“I said they would never take you. I keep my word.”

 

A full-fledged scandal rocked the statehouse. Señor Hidalgo had admitted to his longtime involvement with the Sandlin gang, and in so doing had implicated Ximinez, who had mysteriously disappeared. Thus encouraged, witnesses came forth testifying to a variety of crimes committed by the Sandlin gang. Mexican officials, from the smallest villages to the largest cities, had become suspect. Mexican soldiers clashed almost daily with bands of outlaws, and there were rumors that the Sandlin gang in northern Mexico was no more, that men from within its higher echelons had quietly crossed the border into Texas. There were daily meetings at the Sandlin mansion in Toluca, and while controversy raged, Sandlin seemed unperturbed.

“We're losing men,” Jarvis reported, “especially in the north. There are more soldiers riding the border, and no horse herds have crossed, north or south, since this fighting with the military began.”

“I am aware of that,” said Sandlin. “The Mexican government has requested the help of the United States. All ships flying Mexican colors sailing into or out of American ports are subject to search and seizure.”

“That doesn't bother you?”

“Of course not,” Sandlin said. “I can and will curtail all activity indefinitely. There are no specific charges against me. These peasants who blame all their troubles on the Sandlin gang are unable to name any specific culprit, and it's for these ignorant masses the military is putting on a show.”

“In a town with ten whorehouses, the law closes one of them,” said Jarvis.

“Exactly,” Sandlin replied. “That's to satisfy the good citizens. As long as the soldiers are battling the outlaws, who can fault them or their politicians beating the drums?”

“We've lost our contacts within the Mexican government,” said Jarvis. “Hidalgo will be damned lucky if they don't stand him against the wall.”

“He and Ximinez were good investments,” Sandlin said. “Neither of them could blame a specific crime on us. They only succeeded in incriminating themselves, and that goes a long way in vindicating us. While we took advantage of their positions and their weakness, we are in no way to blame for them. Remember, it's the Judas who sells out that bears the disgrace. It rarely ever dirties the hand bearing the silver or the gold.”

But while the Sandlin empire seemed secure, much of the spoils were secretly taken aboard a fast clipper ship anchored in Tampico bay. Twice a month, the vessel sailed to a secluded harbor in South America....

 

“I have heard, even before we began this vendetta, of a clipper ship owned by Sandlin,” Tamara said. “My grandfather knew an outlaw who swore this ship is anchored in Tampico bay.”

“How long ago?” Wes asked.

“Three years, I think,” said Tamara. “Grandfather believed that when the time came, Sandlin would board that ship and sail to some foreign port to enjoy his ill-gotten gains.”

“That's not as far-fetched as it sounds,” Wes said. “This empire of Sandlin's is headed for hell on greased skids. He's got to be losing men, yet it seems like nothing has any real effect on the bastard.”

“Per'ap we sink the ship,” said El Lobo.

“If there
is
one,” Wes said, “that might be the one way to destroy Sandlin.”

“With the soldiers looking for us, as well as the outlaws, what more can we do in Mexico City?” Renita asked. “Suppose we go looking for this phantom ship.”

“It will not be easy,” said Tamara. “Grandfather said it flies false colors.”

“We go to Toluca,” El Lobo said. “We follow Sandlin to this ship.”

“Those Mexican freighters spoke of Toluca,” said Wes, “but we don't know Sandlin or where he's holed up.”

“Sandlin has a mansion there,” Tamara said. “Juan, the old one, spoke of it. Sandlin does not hide.”

“Then El Lobo's idea is a good one,” said Wes. “We'll find us a place to hole up in or close to Toluca. Then well watch the Sandlin house. We'll follow anybody leaving there, at least until we know where he's going. Where is Tampico, Tamara?”

“To the north,” Tamara said. “It is a port on the Gulf of Mexico.”

“We'll ride at night,” said Wes. “Do you know how we can find Juan?”

“Yes,” Tamara said. “When I last spoke to him, he promised his help.”

“If he knows where Sandlin's place is, that's all the help we'll need,” said Wes.

“But how will we watch Sandlin's house, when the outlaws and the soldiers are looking for us?” Renita asked.

“We'll have to come up with a plan after we've seen the place,” said Wes. “Juan may have some ideas.”

They waited for darkness before they rode any closer to Mexico City, and it was near dawn when they reached the shack that Juan called home. Quickly Tamara told him what they wished to know.

“I take you,” said Juan, pointing to Wes and El Lobo.

“I wish to go,” Tamara said.

“And I,” said Renita.

Juan shook his head. He led them to a ramshackle barn that leaned drunkenly to one side, and within the barn was a two-wheeled wooden cart. Juan pointed to the cart, and there was barely room for Wes and El Lobo to get into it. Taking a hay fork, Juan began throwing hay into the cart until Wes and El Lobo were covered. He then went for his mule and hitched the animal to the cart. Wes and El Lobo sneezed, and Tamara laughed.

“No come,” Juan said, his eyes on Tamara and Renita.

He touched the mule's flank and the animal lurched into motion, the cumbersome cart creaking along behind him.

“Por Dios,”
said El Lobo, “How far be Toluca?”

“Silencio,”
Juan said.

Tamara and Renita led all four horses well away from Juan's place, hiding the animals where they were unlikely to be seen.

“I hope Toluca's not too far,” Renita said. “It's got to be awful cramped in that cart.”

“Juan knows what he is doing,” said Tamara.

The cart rumbled on, and only once did Juan speak, when he had stopped to rest the mule.

“The
casa
stands alone. When we are before it, I will again rest the
mulo.”

It seemed forever before the cart creaked to a halt. Wes and El Lobo peered through a tangle of straw at a magnificent house with six white columns supporting a second-floor balcony. The nearest building appeared to be a livery barn, and hay could be seen in the loft above. Juan clucked to the mule and the cart creaked on its way. It was near noon when they reached Juan's place. Thankfully, Wes and El Lobo crawled through the tangle of hay and out of the cart. Tamara and Renita had been watching for them.

“The house stands alone,” Wes said. “There's no place to hide except what looks like a livery barn.”

“Perhaps we can watch from there,” said Tamara. “Juan, what do you think?”

“I fix,” Juan said.

 

 

“I
wish Juan would hurry,” Renita said. “He's in danger as long as we're here. I can't forget what happened to Pablo and Shekeela for taking us in.”

“The situation's changed since then,” said Wes. “With the military going through the motions of battling the Sandlin gang, neither should have the time to harass Juan.”

“Per'ap they no expect us to be so near the town,” El Lobo said.

“Juan is respected among his people,” said Tamara. “What he can accomplish may well surprise you.”

Darkness had fallen when Juan returned, riding his mule.

“Señorita,”
he said, pointing to Tamara, “I talk, you listen.”

Tamara had a better command of Spanish than any of them, but when he began speaking rapidly, even Tamara had trouble understanding him. He rattled along for a quarter of an hour, and when he was finished, Tamara translated.

“Juan has arranged for us to conceal the horses in the stable near Sandlin's mansion. Wes, you and Palo will keep watch on the Sandlin house from the stable's loft. Beyond the stable—a distance from the Sandlin place—there is a boardinghouse. Juan's kin owns it. Renita and me will become servants there for as long as there is a need. Wes, you and Palo will take your meals there twice daily, but you must come and go under the cover of darkness. Juan and his people are in much danger should any of us be discovered. Juan says it is all he can do.”

“Por Dios,”
El Lobo said. “It is enough.”

“It's more than enough,” said Wes. “Juan, how can we thank you?”

“Es Nada,”
Juan said, shrugging his stooped shoulders.

“Wes, Juan will go with you and Palo to the stable,” said Tamara. When he returns, he will see Renita and me to the boardinghouse.”

“Caballos,”
Juan said.

Juan mounted his mule. Wes and El Lobo mounted their horses and, leaving Tamara's and Renita's mounts, followed Juan. The old Mexican avoided all lit byways, bringing them to the end of the stable farthest from the Sandlin house. A young Mexican swung the barn doors open, allowing them to enter. The doors were quickly closed. A lantern was lit.

“This be José,” said Juan. “He no talk.”

Juan stuck out his tongue and made a slicing motion with his hand. José grinned at them, apparently accustomed to Juan's crude introduction. Wes and El Lobo dismounted and José took the reins of their horses. Juan pointed to the hay-filled loft above and to a wooden ladder leading to it. First Wes and then El Lobo extended their hands, and Juan took them. He then let himself and his mule out, closing the barn doors behind him.

“Water,” said El Lobo. “I hear spring.”

The sound was the overflow from a horse trough made from an enormous, hollowed-out cedar log. Water was fed in through a smaller log, split and hollowed out.

“It took some kind of genius to figure that out,” Wes said. “The source would have to be high enough for gravity to bring the water in.”

Suddenly there was a sound behind them, and both men whirled, their hands on the butts of their Colts. José stood there grinning, pointing to himself and then to the rig that brought fresh water into the barn.