The Mission War (13 page)

There was a brief cry and for a moment the broken body thrashed in the dust. Then he was still and Arturo spat back at the body. It would take him a hell of a long time to round up those horses, and his head was throbbing with pain.

 

 

The knock on the door of the rectory brought Ki's head up. He looked to Jessie and then to the friar. Diego, who was looking over the town plan of San Ignacio, put the map aside and rested his hand near his holstered gun.

Maria looked to Brother Joseph, who nodded, and she crossed on silent feet to the door, opening it.

The man who entered was broken. His face was drawn, his eyes blank. In his arms was the body of a child, bloody and smeared with dust.

“Brother Joseph,” was all Rivera said at first.

“Madre de Dios.”
Brother Joseph crossed himself and went to the alcalde who stood framed in the doorway, his son in his arms. “What has happened?”

“The last rites, please,” Rivera said.

“Yes, yes, of course, but what has happened, Diego?” the friar asked.

Bandidos.
A
bandido ...
“ the man's voice broke. His own face was dusty, teary. ”One killed him, a child.“

“I'm sorry,” Jessica said, “very sorry. Is there anything at all we can do?”

“Yes,” the alcalde answered grimly. “Show us how to fight. Show us how to kill these child murderers.”

For the rest of the morning, Rivera was with the priest and his dead son, but in the afternoon he emerged to sit down at the table with Jessica, Diego, and Ki. “What is it we can do?” Rivera asked.

“Get your people together. Maybe this evening they can arrive in small groups.”

“I will say it is a mass for my son,” Rivera put in. It was a good idea but perhaps a bit cold. But Rivera was done with his mourning. Now his thoughts were only on venegence.

“That will work,” Ki said. “We want to talk to these men and plan our action—if they will fight now. Will they, Rivera?”

“They will fight. I will see to that,” the alcalde promised.

“Tonight, then. Let's not let this go on any longer than necessary,” Jessica said.

“No. To put it off is to see other children die,” Rivera said. “Now I see that. If I had listened to you yesterday, perhaps my son would not be dead now.”

“Maybe, but don't blame yourself. It's Mono's fault, all of it, as we said before.”

“Then Mono is the one who must pay, who will pay.” Rivera rose and nodded to them. He didn't offer his hand. Still dusty but now erect, he went out.

“Ki? Diego?” Brother Joseph had returned. “I heard most of that. I have something to show you. Whether it is of any help or not is for you to decide.”

Ki and Diego exchanged ‘a curious glance, rose, and followed the friar downward once more and into yet another hidden chamber beneath the church.

Taking a lantern from a hidden nook, the friar lit it and entered a small chamber whose entrance was indistinguishable from the wall surrounding it.

Inside, the lantern glowed on an odd assortment of ancient objects: armor, swords, battle axes, and, standing in a neat row along a wooden rack, a file of ancient muskets.

“These firearms were taken long ago from a band of mutinous soldiers who came to San Ignacio. The friar convinced them to turn themselves in and throw themselves on the mercy of the crown.” He paused. “Unfortunately, the queen ordered them all beheaded. However, their weapons survived.”

Diego had picked up one of the muskets. It was fifty years old at least and not cleaned in all that time. He checked the lock of the ancient firing mechanism by cocking and letting the flint drop. Sparks were produced. He shook his head and handed the weapon to Ki.

“If the barrels aren't rusted shut, they will fire. You have powder for these contraptions?” Ki asked.

“Cans of it, yes. Whether it is good or not, I couldn't say. I have musket balls and flints and bayonets.”

Ki replaced the musket. “Let's have a look at the powder.”

There were six five-pound cans of it, three of them damp and decomposed, the others apparently dry. Diego went to the rack, took one of the muzzle loaders, and primed it. When he dropped the flint this time, the powder flashed brightly. “It'll work. Some of the time,” he added.

“Then these will be of some help? the friar asked.

“I think so,” Ki answered. “Now,” he said, “all we need is some men willing to fire them.”

Chapter 11

There was a new fire burning in town. From the rampart surrounding the bell tower, Ki and Jessica watched it burn.

Below them, in small groups the men of San Ignacio, dressed in their best clothes, entered the churchyard and walked into the mission. The funeral service for the alcalde's son would be held that night. A brief mass and then a meeting behind the locked and guarded church doors. A council of war.

“What do you think, Ki?” Jessica Starbuck asked. “Will they fight?”

“If they don‘t, they will lose their town.”

“They weren't all that concerned before. They weren't eager to fight no matter what the provocation. They don't seem to be able to see that it's in their best interests.”

“Then,” Ki said, “it is our job to see that they discover that. The alcalde wants to fight because he has lost a son. I only hope they each don't have to lose someone before they realize that Mono must be done away with.”

The men of the town were willing to listen but reluctant to make a decision. “We aren't soldiers,” one man objected. “Call for the
federales;
let them dispose of Mono.”

“A week to Mexico City, a week back with soldiers—how much damage can Mono do in that time? He would be gone and San Ignacio would be nothing but a memory,” Jessica responded.

“We must do this ourselves,” the alcalde said. “That much is clear.”

“You grieve for your son. We understand your anger, Rivera, but we are not fighting men. We have no weapons.”

That was Diego's cue to enter the church with his armload of muskets. He put them down with a clatter and stood, hands on hips, over them.

“Here are your weapons. Where are the men to use them? the bandit asked.

“These rusty toys against Mono's repeating rifles
^!
”

“They will cut us to pieces.”

Ki spoke again. “Have you considered, that there are forty men in this room. Forty men! Mono has but ten
bandidos.
You are four to one. Ten men hold your town hostage. Ten men terrorize your women and children. Ten men and the entire town of San Ignacio is afraid of them!”

There was enough disgust in Ki's voice to cause heads to lower slightly in shame. Glances were exchanged uneasily. The men of San Ignacio shifted in the pews.

“Ten men,” Ki repeated. “Each one of them can be killed with a single bullet. They have no chance at all against an armed town, a town willing to defend itself.”

“The weapons,” one man, braver than the rest asked, “will they fire?”

“They will. Diego Cardero and I spent most of the afternoon cleaning and oiling them. They will fire and they are deadly enough to kill any man, Mono included.”

“If I ever had him in front of a gun ...”

“Then put him there!” Jessica exhorted.

Diego Cardero said, “You are being offered a great opportunity—security for all time against these bandits. What band of outlaws would descend on this town knowing that you once took up arms and defeated the mighty Mono?”

Speaking about it as if it were already a reality encouraged the townspeople. Two men in the back got to their feet.

“I've had enough of these roving bandits. Every year they raid my stores. Every year my wife and daughter have to hide in the hills. Every year we allow them to spit on us. Give me a gun. Show me how to work it. Show me Mono!”

Once the tide of opinion had shifted, it became a tumultuous demand for justice, for weapons, for Mono's blood. Things got so noisy that the friar had to caution them. “Quiet, please. We are not ready for battle, not yet armed. Too much noise will raise the bandits' suspicions.”

“Let them be suspicious! Load a gun and give it to me. I know how to pull a trigger,” one man responded.

It took some time to settle things down again, but finally the muskets were handed out—first to those who knew what to do with them, then to the most eager students who were put through their paces by Ki and Diego and by Jessica Starbuck who had handled a muzzle loader before.

That done, Ki went over his battle plan. “The bandits wander the streets now, but by midnight they will probably return to the cantina to sleep together as they did last night. There may be a guard posted; there may not be. Mono will expect no resistance at all. When has there been resistance?”

Jessica went on. “Sometime after midnight we expect to find the entire gang drunk or sleeping in the cantina. You men will begin to filter into the streets, some taking up positions on rooftops. With the sheer numbers on our side, we should be able to take Mono easily and quickly. Keep the shooting to a minimum. There's always the danger of shooting each other in the darkness. Any surviving bandits will face justice later.”

“And they will!” the alcalde said vigorously.

Jessica and Ki's ragged army had become enthusiastic. Now, rather than encouraging them, it seemed important to keep the lid on.

“Each man will be shown his position on the town plan. Diego Cardero has a copy. Each man will be given a time to take up his post. Follow the plan!” Ki said with some force. “Don't lose your discipline. Above all, don't fire until I signal you. One early shot can ruin all of this.”

“Do you still want me to take care of the horses, Ki?” Diego Cardero asked.

“Yes. They won't get far without their horses, even if they do break out of the cantina—though I don't see how they can even accomplish that, not with the sharpshooters on the roofs.”

“And me, Ki,” Brother Joseph asked, “what do I do?”

“What you're best at. Pray.”

Everyone was shown exactly what to do and told when to do it. The Mexicans slipped homeward then, carrying muskets and powder. The new fire had died down. San Ignacio was silent. But it wouldn't be for long. There was going to be a lot of flame and thunder and it was going to sweep Mono and his outlaws straight to the gates of hell.

It was a long wait until midnight. Diego checked his own guns and oiled them. Jessica wore a .44 borrowed from Cardero. Ki had his throwing stars ready and was running over the plan again and again in his mind.

“Nothing can go wrong, can it?” the friar asked anxiously.

“Not if they do their parts right,” Ki answered.

“If it does go wrong ... if it does,” the friar said, “we may have encouraged many good, simple men to march to their deaths.”

“Nothing will go wrong,” Ki repeated. Brother Joseph rested a hand briefly on Ki's shoulder and walked away. It seemed hours later when Diego approached Ki, fastening the drawstring on his black sombrero.

“It is time, amigo. Time now to finish these animals.” Ki had exchanged his peon costume for a friar's dark robe. It would prevent him being seen so easily in the darkness. Jessica was grim and silent as she met the men at the back gate. Ki looked to her and nodded and he started on.

Diego stepped to Jessie, drew her into his arms, and kissed her once. “Be careful, Jessica Starbuck,” he said.

“Don't worry about me.”

“But I do.” Then he smiled his ingratiating smile and was gone, slipping off through the shadows cast by the mission wall toward the horses that were his objective.

Jessica hurried to catch up with Ki, who gave her a questioning look but said nothing. There was no time for further conversation.

Working their way toward the cantina, they saw no one—which bolstered Ki's confidence in his plan. The Mexicans on the rooftops were keeping their heads down according to instructions, and those moving on the streets were being very silent, staying out of sight.

From time to time they heard a footstep or a sigh, but these wouldn't be audible in the cantina. Once Ki spotted a man in a sombrero working his way up an alley, but he was doing it right, keeping to the shadows. No bleary-eyed
bandido
guard was going to spot the man or realize there was any danger.

Ki and Jessie were in the alley behind the cantina now. That was the place Ki had chosen for himself—if anyone were going to go inside, he was going to be the one.

“Here,” he whispered to Jessica, nodding to the stack of used crates and discarded barrels thirty feet from the back entrance to the cantina.