Deadfall (27 page)

“What is it, Feather?” asked Charley. “You look like you've seen a ghost.”

Breathing hard, the little cowpoke tried to explain.

“I don't know just who they are, Boss,” he said, “but there's a bunch of well-heeled Mexican gunmen ridin' toward our camp, and they look like they mean business.”

“Are they soldiers?” asked Fuerte.

“Or more bandits?” said Charley.

“No,” said Feather. “They're just a bunch of mean-lookin' Mexicans, and I'll bet my bottom dollar they got business with us.”

Charley reached for his Walker Colt, pulling it from his boot.

“Everybody grab a rifle,” he called out. “We got some uninvited company on its way.”

Everyone scattered to retrieve their weapons, while Charley, Fuerte, Roscoe, and Feather moved out into the middle of the road to await the arrival of the approaching riders.

The rest of the outfit found a tree, a rock, or anything else that could be used for cover, and got behind it.

By the time the galloping horses rounded a nearby bend and came into view, all they could see were the four men standing shoulder to shoulder in the center of the road—and that they were all armed to the teeth.

Don Roberto held up his hand for his men to stop. They all pulled up sharply, reining their horses in behind their leader.

“Who are you, and what do you want from us?” said Charley, furrowing his brow.

“I am Don Roberto Acosta,” said the Don. “And these are some of my
vaqueros
. We have been searching for two Americans who were abducted by bandits while they were on their way to my
hacienda
.”

Fuerte stepped forward, lowering his rifle.

“It is me, Don Roberto, Roca Fuerte.”

“Yes,” said the Don. “I recognize you now, Roca.”

Charley, Roscoe, and Feather exchanged looks, trying to figure the whole thing out. Now it was Charley who stepped forward.

“One of the Americans you are seeking is my daughter, señor,” he offered.

“And her husband would be Kent Pritchard?” said Don Roberto.

Charley nodded. “Yep,” he said. “You must be the gentleman they were on their way to visit.”

“That is correct,” he said. He turned to Fuerte.

“Your friend here, Roca Fuerte, works for me. Only I thought he was going to stay in Brownsville and look for more evidence,” said the Don.

“I can explain myself, Don Roberto,” said Fuerte.

“I am sure you can,” said Don Roberto. “But let me guess. While you were searching for clues in Brownsville, you just happened to run across this gentleman—”

“Charley Sunday,” said Charley.

“Charley Sunday,” echoed the Don. “And after he told you that he was also searching for Mr. and Mrs. Pritchard, you decided to accompany them in their pursuit of the abductors.”

“There is also a young boy, Don Roberto. Mr. Sunday's grandson. We managed to free the Pritchards, but now their son is being held captive . . . by the same man who ordered the Pritchards' abduction in the first place.”

“I can only guess who that would be,” said Don Roberto.

“It is Don Sebastian de la Vega,” said Fuerte.

“Ah yes, my old friend,” said Don Roberto. “We were once rivals over who had the largest parcel of land in this part of Mexico. Over the years, Don Sebastian's greed exceeded my wants many times over, so I decided to stay away from him and his acquisitions, as long as he didn't try to steal any of mine.”

“Don Sebastian is the one who hired the Armendariz gang to abduct the Pritchards.”

“What Don Sebastian has actually done,” said Charley, moving in closer to the others, “is to take my grandson away from his parents and me on the condition that me and my friends get out of Mexico and never come back.”

“Which makes it even more obvious that he means to keep the boy for himself, for some particular reason,” said Don Roberto. “What have you done to get your grandson back?”

“We thought we had a chance last evening,” said Charley, “but we found out we are extremely outnumbered . . . Don Sebastian has a personal private army of close to fifteen hundred guards. There are only nine of us.”

“I have eighteen of my
vaqueros
with me,” said Don Roberto, “and another hundred and fifty out there somewhere still searching for the boy's parents. If I could only figure out a way to get a message to my other men.”

“But you have said that your men are split up all over, still searching for the parents,” said Fuerte. “Even if we did have a few men to spare, how would they even know where to start looking?”

“I have no idea,” said Charley.

 

 

Mary Theresa wandered away from the Armendariz camp after the small squabble she'd had with her husband, Manolito.
The farther I can get from that bandit camp, the better
, she thought to herself, as she walked aimlessly around in the
hacienda
's walled-in compound.

She strolled through a small fruit orchard, which, from the center, she could not see the perimeter. Then she moved down a gravel-covered path that led her past two very large manmade lakes. Eventually she came across what appeared to be a small collection of buildings that she knew must be the quarters for Don Sebastian's soldiers.

No one was around as she passed through this grouping of barracks buildings. She finally found herself approaching the
hacienda
itself, from the rear.

In all her life, Mary Theresa had never seen such a fine-looking home as the
hacienda
presented to her. This wasn't the first time in her life she had found herself coveting another person's possession—even though she had been taught all her life never to do that.

Mary Theresa had been taught since childhood that the men with riches in her country were her enemy, and that the possessions they held had been earned at the expense of other people—mostly the poor. She knew that it was wrong for her to desire to live in the
hacienda
, as she was thinking. She knew that if she really believed in what her friends and others had taught her over the years, she must destroy buildings like the
hacienda
, and the men who had stolen from the people to obtain such great wealth.

All of these thoughts were running through her head, when she heard a whistle. She stopped where she was and looked around. Everywhere close to her was void of human activity. She was positive she was still alone. Then, from somewhere near, the whistle came again. This time Mary Theresa raised her head, looking up. What she saw made her heart skip a beat or two.

Behind an iron-barred window, on a balcony directly above where she was standing, she saw the face of the boy she and her husband had captured and brought back to the Armendariz camp with two other Americans, some days earlier.

Not knowing what she should do, now that she had been seen by the boy, she raised her hand and waved.

Taking one hand off the bar it had been gripping, and still holding on with the other—the boy waved back.

The outfit was now sharing its camping space with Don Roberto and his eighteen
vaqueros
. Roscoe had cooked up some of the remaining Mexican-army mess supplies, which made a lean meal because of all who had joined the group.

After supper, Roscoe and Kelly made sure everyone had a cup—then they circled around the campsite, stopping to talk to their friends and the tired Mexican cowboys, pouring coffee for everyone.

Fuerte, Charley, and Don Roberto sat near their bedrolls, sipping coffee and talking, while Charley took out his pipe and filled the bowl with tobacco. He struck a Blue Diamond and sucked the flame into the bowl until he got a good fire going. Then he shook out the flame and tossed the match into the campfire.

“We'll have a better chance next time, with the Don and his men backing us up.”

“Eighteen additional guns will not turn the tide in a battle with Don Sebastian's soldiers,” said Fuerte.

“At least having eighteen more men who know how to use a weapon will give more confidence to those in the outfit,” said Charley.

“I do not think so,” said Don Roberto. “It will just take them more time to kill us all . . . and that's what they'll do . . . kill us all.”

“Well, I'm about all planned out, Don Roberto,” said Charley. “I feel like we've tried everything we know to get Henry Ellis out of that
hacienda
, and nothing's worked.”

“Yet,” said Fuerte. “Nothing's worked . . . yet.”

“Are you saying that you've come up with another plan?” said Charley.

“It's not really a plan, Señor Charley,” said Fuerte. “For now, let's just call it . . . a new idea.”

C
HAPTER
T
WENTY-EIGHT

Mary Theresa uncoiled her whip. She stepped back, and with a flick of her arm and wrist, she tossed the end of the whip's braided leather tip over the balcony railing. It wound itself tight around the balustrade, allowing the whip to assist her in climbing from the ground to the balcony railing.

Once she was over the barrier and onto the veranda, she stayed low, hoping that no one had seen her. Then she made her way over to the barred window where Henry Ellis was still standing. She checked the strength of the iron. She removed her knife from its scabbard and began picking away at the lock that secured the bars.

Henry Ellis watched as she continued to work at the lock with the knife. Before he knew it, the large padlock broke free and she was inside the room beside him.

“What are you doing?” he asked the woman. “You're one of the Armendariz bandits who captured us in the first place.”

“That was when I believed in a cause,” she replied. “Now, I am not so sure who is morally on the right side, or on the wrong side. Why is Don Sebastian keeping you here?” she wanted to know.

“He thinks my grampa killed his son many years ago,” said Henry Ellis. “And now he wants to keep me here at his
hacienda
to replace that son. You were down there a while ago when Don Sebastian traded my life for those of my parents and some others, were you not?” said the boy.

“
Sí
,” she answered. “I was there . . . but I was not paying that much attention.”

“Well, anyway,” said Henry Ellis, “my grampa, me, and our friends are on the right side, while Don Sebastian and his men, plus your boss—Armendariz—and his followers, are in the wrong.”

“For some reason, I am beginning to see it your way . . .”

She hesitated.

“What is your name, son?”

“Henry Ellis,” said the boy. “That's my name . . . Henry Ellis.”

“Henry Ellis,” she said, patting his cheek. “You are a good boy. I could feel the goodness in your heart from the first time I saw you. I am Mary Theresa. I will try to get you back to your grandfather, but you will have to help me.”

“I will surely help, Mary Theresa.”

“Good,” said the woman.

“What would you like me to do?” asked the boy.

“For now, just follow me, and do as I say,” was her answer.

 

 

Don Sebastian stood on the wall near the main gates, looking out across the green valley from where his
hacienda
was located. Andrés handed him a pair of binoculars. The Don raised them to his eyes.

Over the tops of the low mountains surrounding the green valley, he could see a large cloud of dust being raised.

He turned to Andrés, his captain of the guard who was always at his side. He handed the binoculars back to him.

“What do you think, Andrés? Take a look.”

Andrés raised the binoculars to his eyes and focused as best he could.

“Someone is coming, Don Sebastian. It could be several men riding fast, or many men riding slow.”

“Alert the guards, Andrés. As fast as you are able, alert the guards.”

Andrés ran down the steps to the ground below, then he moved to a bell mounted on a heavy wooden tripod. He pulled on the rope continuously to ring out a warning.

 

 

Less than a mile away, at the camp shared by Don Roberto's
vaqueros
and Charley's Texas Outfit, the sound of the clanging bell echoed through the air.

Around the same time, one of Don Roberto's
vaqueros
rode into camp at a full gallop. He was met in front of the Don's tent by Don Roberto, Fuerte, and Charley.

“What is it?” the Don asked his scout.

“Many federal soldiers are coming this way, Don Roberto,” said the man. “I was close enough to see that it is your brother who leads them.”

“Damn,” said Don Roberto. “I did not expect him to be here so soon.”

“You contacted the federal army?” said Charley. “I thought—”

“My brother is the ranking general, Señor Sunday,” said Don Roberto. “I sent him a message two days ago apprising him of our situation. But I so wanted to keep the army, and the federal police, out of this. Now it appears to be too late for that.”

“Then we better go for it all while we can,” said Charley.

“I will send a messenger back to my brother with an explanation, plus a drawing, showing where Don Sebastian's heaviest troops are concentrated.”

He turned to Charley.

“You get your men ready to attack the
hacienda
from the front, Señor Sunday.”

“Roca,” called out Charley. “Get the outfit together,
now
. On the double!”

“And my
vaqueros
, led by me . . . we will split up and hit them from both sides. My brother will attack Don Sebastian's militia from the rear, taking Don Sebastian's reserve troops full on.”

“What about Armendariz and his gang? They are still in there, aren't they?” said Charley.

“If there are others, we will have to hope they get caught in our cross fire.”

“Before you go with that plan, Don Roberto,” said Charley, “I must tell you that my men are in possession of some very up-to-date weaponry.”

The Don looked Charley directly in the eye.

“Just what kind of weapons do you have, Señor Sunday?”

 

 

Together, Charley Sunday and Don Roberto decided that one of the two Colt-Browning automatic machine guns would go with eight of Don Roberto's
vaqueros
and cover a side wall. The other machine gun would stay with Charley's outfit and cover the
hacienda
's front gates. Sergeant Stone and Mitch Pennell would operate the automatic weapons. Their job would be to strafe the entrance gates and one side of the
hacienda
's walls. The Don's other eight
vaqueros
, along with Roscoe, Feather, and Holliday, would attack from the opposite side, using their own weapons, plus three of the Borchardt C93 semiautomatic pistols. All of the groups of men would attack on foot, since both Don Roberto and Charley had witnessed cavalry charges in the past where the horses made very cumbersome targets in close-quarter situations like the one at hand. And once on foot, if the riders hadn't been injured too bad, it was agreed that the cavalry troopers did their best fighting.

At that point, the leaders of the federal army troops rode into the camp. Within minutes, Don Roberto was relaying the whole story, plus his battle plan, to his brother and the other officers.

“They are already expecting something,” said Don Roberto, in finalizing. “But we will give you time to get your troops around behind the
hacienda
before we attack.”

“And, if you're fired upon,” added Don Roberto, “don't be afraid to shoot back.”

“And just remember,” said Charley, “my grandson is somewhere in there . . . so, be careful.”

The rest of the federal troops had caught up to their leaders by then. Before they even had a chance for a sip from their canteens, the officers led them away.

Charley took a head count as the men rode by . . . there were at least two hundred fifty soldiers, he figured.

Charley turned to Don Roberto.

“At least the odds are evening up for us,” he said.

Fuerte rode into the camp's center, followed by the rest of the outfit.

“Sergeant Stone . . . Pennell,” yelled Charley, “you two get the machine guns and go with Don Roberto and his men. And Sergeant, make sure you take along enough ammunition for a siege, if it turns out that way. Also,” he added, “make sure that anyone who has a semiautomatic pistol has enough ammo to get them through the battle, as well.”

The sergeant nodded.

“Thanks, Tobias,” said Charley, just before the two men rode off to assemble the weapons.

The sergeant threw Charley a wink.

Charley winked back.

“And you, Mitch Pennell,” said Charley, “you do a good job for me today and I'll see what I can do about extending your temporary reprieve . . . maybe even making it permanent.”

Pennell nodded with a twinkle in his eye, then he turned in his saddle, spurred his horse, and left the area, following the sergeant.

 

 

Within the next half hour, Charley's outfit, Don Roberto's
vaqueros
, and Don Roberto's brother's federal army troops had cautiously moved into their positions, surrounding the
hacienda
walls.

Both Colt-Browning machine guns were now mounted on tripods and had been placed where each could do the heaviest damage. Those with semiautomatic pistols had just finished taking up their positions across from the wall to which they had been assigned.

An army messenger brought news that the federal troops had made it to their positions behind the
hacienda
and were surrounding the back wall. The messenger also reported that there was a rear gate to contend with as well. When everyone was in position, Charley and Don Roberto sent word to the others to stand by.

 

 

Inside the
hacienda
's walls, the preparations being taken by the outfit, Don Roberto's
vaqueros
, and the federal troops outside, were being mostly disregarded. Instead, Don Sebastian was having his guards prepare for a frontal attack only. The earlier sight of the rising dust had helped him to realize there was a very large force approaching the
hacienda
, but he had yet to believe the reality that Charley's entire outfit had returned, joined by Don Roberto and his
vaqueros
. Don Sebastian had also figured that if the approaching riders were unsuspecting officers of the law, or government
federales
, he would more than likely be able to talk his way out of a confrontation. And if they happened to be a large gang of
bandidos
looking for a rich man's property to raze, he still had Armendariz and his band camped near the rear entrance. So, one way or the other, Don Sebastian thought he had all his options covered.

The
hacienda
's two cannons were in position on either side of the arch over the main gates. For about thirty minutes, the guards on the front wall had been aware of movement behind the heavy brush that had been cleared away from the front wall and piled about forty-five meters away, making the semicircle of dry tinder the main obstacle between the
hacienda
and anyone wishing to assault Don Sebastian's holdings. The dry vegetation had been left that way in case there was ever such an attack. It could be ignited by torch within moments and turned into an inferno that would stop the opposition's advance long enough to reset the cannons and add the needed guards.

Don Sebastian climbed to the top of the front wall with Andrés at his side. Once there, they were both able to see the movements behind the brush.

The Don turned to Andrés.

“Have them fire the cannons right over there in the center of the piled brush. I have a feeling it is from there they will begin their assault.”

Andrés moved over to one of the cannons, directing his men to fire both weapons into the center of the piled brush.

The cannons were aimed, and their fuses were lit.

All eyes watched as the weapons exploded and the cannon balls arced out over the barren space between the wall and the piled shrubbery.