Spanish Gold

SPANISH GOLD

SPANISH GOLD

KEVIN RANDLE

M. EVANS

Lanham
•
Boulder
•
New York
•
Toronto
•
Plymouth, UK

Published by M. Evans

An imprint of Rowman & Littlefield
4501 Forbes Boulevard, Suite 200, Lanham, Maryland 20706
www.rowman.com

10 Thornbury Road, Plymouth PL6 7PP, United Kingdom

Distributed by National Book Network

Copyright © 1990 by Kevin D. Randle
First paperback edition 2014

All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the publisher, except by a reviewer who may quote passages in a review.

British Library Cataloguing in Publication Information Available

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

The hardback edition of this book was previously cataloged by the Library of Congress as follows:

Randle, Kevin D., 1949-

Spanish Gold / Kevin D. Randle

p. cm.—(An Evans novel of the West)

I. Title. II. Series.

PS3568.A534S64   1990   90-42202

813'. 54—dc20

ISBN: 978-1-59077-237-9 (pbk. : alk. paper)
ISBN: 978-1-59077-238-6 (electronic)

The paper used in this publication meets the minimum requirements of American National Standard for Information Sciences—Permanence of Paper for Printed Library Materials, ANSI/NISO Z39.48-1992.

Printed in the United States of America

Chapter One New Spain July, 1692

Chapter Two Gettysburg July, 1863

Chapter Three Sweetwater, Texas August 6, 1863

Chapter Four Sweetwater, Texas August 7, 1863

Chapter Five Sweetwater, Texas August 7, 1863

Chapter Six Outside Sweetwater, Texas August 7, 1863

Chapter Seven Hammetsville, Texas August 22, 1863

Chapter Eight Hammetsville, Texas August 22, 1863

Chapter Nine Hammetsville, Texas August 23, 1863

Chapter Ten El Paso, Texas August 25, 1863

Chapter Eleven Outside El Paso, Texas August 25, 1863

Chapter Twelve El Paso, Texas August 25, 1863

Chapter Thirteen El Paso, Texas August 25, 1863

Chapter Fourteen North Of El Paso, Texas August 25, 1863

Chapter Fifteen North of El Paso, Texas August 26, 1863

Chapter Sixteen The Deserts of West Texas August 26, 1863

Chapter Seventeen The Desert North Of El Paso August 26, 1863

Chapter Eighteen The Desert North of El Paso August 26, 1863

Chapter Nineteen The Deserts of West Texas August 26, 1863

Chapter Twenty The Deserts of West Texas August 26, 1863

Chapter Twenty-One The Deserts of West Texas August 26, 1863

Chapter Twenty-Two The Deserts of West Texas August 26, 1863

Chapter Twenty-Three The Deserts of West Texas August 26, 1863

Chapter Twenty-Four The Deserts In West Texas August 26, 1863

Chapter Twenty-Five The Deserts of West Texas August 26, 1863

Chapter Twenty-Six The Deserts of West Texas August 26, 1863

Chapter Twenty-Seven Hammetsville, Texas September 12, 1863

It was a miserable country, this New World, filled with heathens, serpents, and savages. An arid, baking landscape that sucked the strength from men, killing the unwary in hours.

Capitano Pablo Alverez climbed from the back of his horse and slipped down the bank of a shallow river until he stood ankle deep in the water. He was a short man, his black hair long and his beard flowing. He wore a silver chest protector, a metal helmet, and leather boots. The armor had been brought from the Old World and the boots had been hand-tooled in the New. Pulling off a glove, he bent, dipped his hand into the water, and tasted it.

“Muddy,” he said.

The caravan halted on the dusty banks behind him. Across the river, a hundred yards away, was a rocky cliff that climbed into the deep blue of the afternoon sky. There were trees, the green leaves fluttering in the breeze, bushes that rattled like the snakes that were everywhere, and a soft sand. The river itself had a reddish color, the dirt washed down by rains the day before looking like the lifeblood of an empire flowing away.

It was as hot as any of them ever remembered. All were sweating under the layers of clothing and armor meant to protect them from the savages that inhabited the hellhole. The long, never-ending ride hadn't helped, and the burden they guarded didn't lighten the journey.

“Horses first,” ordered Alverez. Again he dipped his hand, but this time he wiped the water on his face trying to cool his body. “A thoroughly miserable country.”

The horsemen walked their beasts to the river and allowed them to drink. Slaves, taken from the villages that had been plundered in New Spain, carried water to the horses hitched to wagons and carts while the infantry stood guard.

“A month,” said Alverez. “A month and we'll be on the ships home.”

“With enough treasure to buy anything we desire,” said another. He was younger, taller, and the brother of the first.

“Cortez had the same but fell from grace. Treasure does not assure position.”

The younger Alverez took a deep breath and then dropped to his knees. He washed his face in the stream, standing a moment later. “Cortez was a fool.”

Turning, Alverez looked back at the caravan. A hundred men from Spain and two hundred natives. Horses brought at great expense from the Old World, wagons built in Mexico and driven northward into the desert. Pennants flew from some. Colored flags from others. Food had been found along the trail. Meat taken from the huge herds of antelope that jumped across the prairie. All of that now stopped along the bank of a river ankle deep and a mile across.

“Camp here tonight?”

“No. We have several more hours of sun.”

“The men are tired. The horses are tired. A rest here would make tomorrow easier.”

“If we press on, then we'll be home that much sooner. There is no reason to stay the night.”

In the distance, at the end of the caravan, a horse reared and whined. A man fought to calm it. Soldiers who had lined the river turned, suddenly nervous. The slaves pulled back toward the wagons.

“What?” asked Alverez.

A soldier ran toward him. He stopped short and wiped a hand over his sweat-covered face. Pointing to the rear, where a cloud of dust was rising, he said, “Something comes.”

“Skirmishers out,” ordered Alverez. “Throw up a line at the end of the column.” Alverez leaped up onto the bank, slipped in the sand, and scrambled up.

“Jose, get the Indians back along the river. Four men to watch them. They move, kill them.”

“Certainly Pablo.”

Two men ran toward the end of the caravan. One climbed up on the rear of a wagon to stare into the distance. The sunlight reflecting off the sand made it difficult to see more than a few feet. Light shrubbery, small plants with only a few leaves, concealed the base of the dust cloud.

Alverez ran toward the right. “Pull the wagons around to form a barricade and then unfasten the horses.”

A half dozen men jumped forward. One grabbed the reins to pull the lead wagon until it was on the bank. The others followed suit forming a half moon using the river as a base.

With his brother, Alverez ran toward the Indian slaves. He leaned down, yanked a man to his feet and demanded, “What is happening?”

The Indian shrugged and in poor Spanish answered, “I know not.”

“Who's coming?”

“No one.”

Alverez cocked his fist and slammed it forward into the Indian's face. He heard bones snap as the nose flattened. Blood splattered down the Indian's bare chest and silently dripped to the sand.

Pointing a finger at the slaves huddled on the bank, he demanded, “What is happening?”

The Indians ignored him.

The lookout leaped from the rear of the wagon and ran toward Alverez. “Horsemen come.”

“How many?”

“I couldn't tell. Maybe fifty or a hundred.”

Alverez wiped a hand over his face. Sweat dripped and his breathing was now labored. He knew who it had to be. The Indians were coming after them to steal the gold and free the slaves.

“I want the skirmishers to fall back into the defensive perimeter. We do not let the enemy get close. Firearms first and then crossbows.”

The soldier nodded and whirled to obey the order.

“Martinez,” said Alverez, “take three men out as pickets.”

Before he could answer, his neck spurted blood and a shaft grew from it. He reached up to finger his throat and then collapsed forward, falling on his face. Blood spread around him, soaking into the sand.

Alverez dropped to one knee, a flintlock pistol in his hand. He turned toward a copse of trees fifty yards away, but there was no one hiding there. “Anyone see where that came from?”

Before anyone could answer, another arrow flashed, slamming into the side of the wagon with a thud. A second followed the first, and then the air was filled with them. They buried themselves in the hard wood of the wagons, the soft sand under them, and the bodies of the horses which screamed in pain and fear.

“Behind us,” yelled a soldier. He stood and ran to the river bank, sliding down to the edge of the water. “They're coming up behind us.”

But there was no one visible behind them. The opposite bank was two or three feet high and covered with bushes and trees. Behind it the land was flat. No cover for the attacking savages. Yet the arrows kept coming, dropping among the skirmishers. A man was hit and toppled into the water with a large splash. A second fell back, screaming in pain.

“Fire,” ordered Alverez. “Fire!”

There was a rattling of weapons. Clouds of blue-gray smoke billowed outward and then drifted on the light breeze. A quick volley into the trees opposite them and then momentary silence.

From all around them came a whooping. First a single voice and then another and another until it seemed that the woods were alive with beasts. The first of the enemy appeared. Huge men dressed in nothing but paint. They dashed forward toward the wagons, and then suddenly retreated, fleeing for cover.

“Kill them now!” yelled Alverez. “Kill them all.”

Arrows from the crossbows flashed. One of the attackers took a bolt in the back. He fell to the river bank opposite them, and rolled down into the water.

The Spaniards scrambled to reload the rifles. There was shouting along the line. Two of the horses broke from the circle, leaped a gap between the wagons, and galloped away. One of the Indian slaves tried to escape but was shot, sprawling on the sand. No one moved to the body.