Assignment, p.12
Assignment, page 12
José nodded up at Rincón, a gesture for which he gained less notice than a bothersome fly might receive. Then he continued past him to wait with the three mounted men, who had held back.
Two of them were leading extra, saddled mounts, one for Ramón and one for José. Even had Pedro Sandoval followed them to the river, as he was supposed to do, he would have returned to town afterward.
José looked over both horses, then took the reins of a short, stout caramel-colored Morgan mare who looked as if she could run all day. But he dared not mount yet. Instead he watched and waited for the signal.
Alongside the wagon and still mounted, Sandoval gestured for the women to stand for inspection. Not that he would select any for his personal use. His wife would not allow it.
The women all stood, three of the adult women lifting the younger ones to their feet to stand alongside them. At Ramón’s barked and mimed encouragement, the women raised their dresses to their hips so Sandoval could see any bruises. He was not concerned with their feet. The remainder of their journey would be in the wagon.
Sandoval looked them over, making a gesture to have the women turn around so he wouldn’t have to circle the wagon.
He appraised them carefully. It was a good shipment. Of the fourteen females crowded into the wagon, only three were not blonds, and those were redheads. Their skin, at least, was still fair, though one younger girl’s face was covered with freckles. She probably would fetch the lowest price, though her youth might raise it some. And they all had the desirable blue eyes and appropriately pouty expressions. None met his gaze.
Hope and anticipation rose in José’s throat. After the inspection, after Rincón had seen that the women were well enough to continue south, the wagon would move on. That would be his signal to mount the Morgan mare. Then José and Ramón would return with Sandoval to his home south of Matamoros to receive their pay and instructions for the next shipment.
Afterward they would be free for another month, give or take.
Finally Sandoval nodded and barked an order to the driver, who raised the reins in anticipation.
Ramón Martinez touched the driver on the shoulder and finally got down, then waited as the wagon moved past before walking toward the mounted men and the last riderless horse.
As José mounted the Morgan, he watched the other five mounted men fall-in behind the wagon and ride away to the south. Those were unfortunate men. They would be farther from Sandoval and farther from Martinez for several days—they were fortunate in that way—but they never had the freedoms afforded to José and Ramón Martinez as part-time help.
*
A little over an hour later, with the sun higher in the sky and the day beginning to turn hot, Sandoval, José, Ramón and the other three mounted men reached Sandoval’s hacienda south of Matamoros.
The servants had constructed tables of sawhorses and old doors and planks of wood in the front yard. The tables had been covered with sheets and colorful blankets, their corners weighted down with stones against the prevailing wind.
At least two jugs of wine and one of whiskey populated each table, along with glasses and mugs that the servants had lain on their side out of deference to the same wind.
But only a few hours after the noonday meal, as they all digested the excellent dinner prepared by Sandoval’s wife and served by his servants, the day was suddenly spoiled.
A lone rider came from the north and reined-in at the edge of the yard, just beyond the thick, knee-high adobe wall. He did not dismount and he would not dare walk the horse into the yard. He only waited.
Sandoval’s wife, her greying black hair pinned back and in white leather sandals and a dark brown dress covered with small, multicolored flowers, noticed the man first. She nudged Sandoval and pointed.
Grinning, Sandoval downed a half-glass of whiskey and crossed the yard.
The man backed his horse away a few steps.
Sandoval stepped over the low wall, then raised his left hand to grab the reins and steady the man’s horse as he asked what news the man had for him.
The man removed his hat—not a good sign—and held it at his chest, then said something quiet to Sandoval.
Sandoval’s grin disappeared and his mouth dropped open. He said what looked to José from the side like, “Are you sure?”
When the man nodded, Sandoval pointed to the north and the man turned his horse and rode back in that direction.
A moment later Sandoval had stepped back over the low wall and was conferring with several men he’d called to the corner of the yard.
Whatever was the topic of discussion, José was glad he hadn’t been summoned. After the party, he only wanted to receive his pay and be on his way. He might even ask Sandoval if he could keep the mare. She was a good horse.
But after he separated from the men he was talking with, Sandoval raised both hands for silence.
When everyone was looking at him, he announced his brother had been murdered. But that very night, the men he’d talked with would take the man responsible, maybe out of his own bed, and bring him to Sandoval so he could personally wreak his vengeance. And everyone was cordially invited to stay to witness the event. Including José Alarcón and Ramón Martinez.
And an invitation from Rincón Sandoval was an order from Rincón Sandoval.
José’s heart sank.
He would have to delay his visit to his sweet wife in Nuevo Laredo for another day.
With José’s typical optimism, he shrugged. There was always tomorrow.
Chapter 26
As Corporal Ringley and Wes left the captain’s office, Wes turned right.
Ringley stopped. “Where you goin’?”
Wes stopped and looked back. “Seems to me the train was still down at the station when we came by.”
“Yeah, I think it was. So?”
“When’s it leave?”
“I think it leaves for Beaumont at noon or thereabouts. Why?”
“Let’s say I’m just curious. Now that we have the official go-ahead, I’d like to talk with the conductor and maybe the engineer.”
Ringley frowned. “Ah. Got you. Someone has to be lettin’ the comancheros load those women in the first place. Let’s go.” They both started down the boardwalk.
Wes said, “Might be more lawmen up north are doin’ that or even just lookin’ the other way. But like Simkins said when we were checkin’ the train cars, that wouldn’t make sense. Why would Messina risk involvin’ someone with a badge when all he really has to do is to pay off the conductor or the engineer?”
*
As they walked past the livery stable, Charley shifted in his stall.
Wes looked over and grinned. “Not this time, Charley. You’ve got the day off.”
Then he looked toward the train station. Several people were milling about in front of the station and starting to queue up. He raised his right hand to point just as Ringley said, “There’s the conductor now.”
A heavy-set man in a powder-blue uniform gripped the handrail and leaned away from a passenger car, the gray fringe of his hair just protruding from beneath his cap. Wes remembered him from Amarillo. The man waved one hand to get the passengers’ attention. “All right, folks. We’ll start boarding in just few minutes for Corpus Christi, Missouri City, Beaumont and points in between. The line forms at the end of the platform.” He gestured toward the end of the porch in front of the train station. As he turned away to go back into the car, he did a double-take. Two Texas Rangers were approaching, the midday sun glinting off their badges.
Still gripping the handrail, he descended the few steps and started toward them, a grin on his face. He clasped his hands in front of his chest. “Good morning, gentlemen. What can I do for the Texas Rangers on this fine morning?”
As Corporal Ringley opened his mouth, Wes said, “Mr. Hutchings, you know a guy named Pedro Sandoval?” Then he gestured toward the train. “The corporal and I’d like to check your stock cars for captive women.”
For only an instant, the man’s eyes went wide and filled with fear. “I—uh—I mean, I’ve heard of Rincón Sandoval of course. Everyone down here knows that name. But Pedro? No sir. As for the rest, I don’t know what you’re talking about, Ranger. Crowley, is it? You’re down from Amarillo, aren’t you? Anyway, we don’t carry humans in the stock cars. It’s company policy.”
Corporal Ringley chuckled and glanced at Wes. “Stop it, Wes. I think you’re makin’ Mr. Hutchings nervous, and I’m sure he isn’t even aware of the problem.”
Then he laid his left palm on the conductor’s shoulder and gripped slightly. He focused on the man’s eyes and said quietly, “Mr. Hutchings, I do apologize for my partner, and we don’t need to check the cars this morning. Fact is, we already checked ‘em. Turns out around a dozen or so women and girls were unloaded from one of the stock cars on this train—your train—just last night.”
He jerked a thumb toward Wes. “My partner here even gunned down a bandito who was stupid enough to shoot at us from the back corner of the train station. That was the Pedro Sandoval he asked you about.” He paused and grinned. “But like I said, I’m sure neither you nor your engineer knew anything about all the women and little girls in that car.”
Then the grin disappeared. “Thing is, though, if we were to find a similar shipment on any train in the future, chances are we’d suspect either the conductor or the engineer knew about it. And a’course, that’d make those people accomplices, and that’d mean jail time. Now, can we trust you to spread the word on that for us?”
Mr. Hutchings’ eyes were still wide. “Oh, yes sir! I’ll definitely spread the word.”
“Good. And you might want to start with your engineer. Say he was to see a group of females out on the open plains somewhere with a few rough-lookin’ men watchin’ over ‘em, it’d probably be a good idea to just steam on past. ‘Course, if the women are on their own, he could stop and you could put ‘em in regular seats in a passenger car outta the kindness of your heart. Understand?”
“Yes sir. Yes, I understand. And thank you.”
Ringley frowned. “For what? You didn’t know about those women in that stock car last night, did you?”
“Oh, no sir. Not at all, sir.”
Ringley squeezed his shoulder lightly again. “Good, good.” He let go. “Now I don’t wanna keep you. I just wanted to let you know things are changin’ in the world.”
The conductor nodded almost frantically. “Yes sir. Changes for the better, maybe.”
Ringley nodded. “You can make bank on it.”
Mr. Hutchings turned and headed back to the train. He stopped just short of the steps, took off his cap and wiped his brow with a handkerchief. As he put his cap back on, he glanced over his shoulder to see Ringley and Wes still watching him, then waved with one hand toward the passengers. “Come ahead, folks. Please have your tickets ready.”
As the passengers started in that direction, Wes glanced up at Ringley. “I do believe you put the fear of God into that man.”
Ringley nodded. “Well, the fear of jail time anyway.” He pulled his gaze away from the conductor. “C’mon, let’s go talk to the guys and come up with a plan for the captain.”
As they passed the livery stable and turned toward Washington Street, Wes glanced back.
All the passengers had boarded the train. Mr. Hutchings was standing near the middle of the locomotive looking up at an open window.
The engineer’s left elbow, shoulder and head were in sight as he looked down at the conductor.
Wes looked at Ringley. “Apparently the engineer’s gettin’ the word right now.”
Ringley glanced back, then chuckled. “That or maybe Mr. Hutchings is tenderin’ his resignation.”
*
Back in the hotel, most of the men were enjoying noontime dinner.
Wes and Ringley stopped at the door and Ringley eyed them. “So who’re we missin’?”
Wes studied the group for a moment. Rangers Elkins, Pinchot, Garcón, and Longstreet were there. “Other than the captain, only Simkins, and we know where he is.”
“Oh. Yeah, I guess he’s the only one. For some reason I thought there were more of us than that.” He started toward the table and Wes followed. As Ringley neared, he jerked a chair away from another table, swung it around and sat. “Hey guys.”
As they all looked up and nodded, Wes moved another chair up alongside Ringley’s and sat.
Ringley glanced at him, then back to the table. “I’ll make this quick in case the captain comes in. I want all ya’ll to meet me in my room tonight at 8, understand? Everyone.”
Again they all nodded. Almost simultaneously, Pinchot and Longstreet said, “What’s goin’ on?”
“I’ll fill you in later, but we’ll be plannin’ a raid for maybe tomorrow, maybe the next day. We’re gonna cross the river.”
Garcón glanced at Wes, then looked at Ringley and grinned. “With or without our badges?”
Ringley said, “With, by god. With.”
Longstreet looked past Wes. Quietly, he said, “Here comes the captain.”
Ringley and Wes glanced around.
The captain was halfway across the floor. As he approached, he grabbed another chair, then sat and looked at Ringley. “Forget what I said earlier about coming up with a plan for Mexico.”
Ringley frowned. “We aren’t going?”
Chapter 27
The captain glanced around the table, then back at Corporal Ringley. “On the contrary. We’ve long known Sandoval has a place just south of Matamoros. He’s often gone, but I was thinking, with the death of Pedro, he’ll probably be there. And with our previous mandate about no official sorties into Mexico, I doubt he’ll be expecting you.”
Wes said, “Beggin’ the captain’s pardon, how can we be sure he knows about Pedro yet?”
Ringley looked at Wes. “Trust me, he knows. He has eyes and ears all over this town. He probably knew later that same night when Pedro didn’t show up with the shipment. And for sure he knew when Parley put Pedro in the ground.”
The captain nodded. “I hate to interrupt a man in his grief, but this might be our best chance to catch him. I want you to head out tomorrow morning as soon after first light as you can manage. Take all hands with you.” He paused. “One thing—if at all possible, arrest him and bring him back.” He looked at Wes. “For one thing, maybe he can give us valuable information about what’s going on up in your neck of the woods with that thorn in your side.”
Wes nodded. “You mean Paco Messina.”
“Exactly.” The captain pushed his chair back. “Good luck to you. I wish I were going with you.” And he turned and left.
Corporal Ringley looked around the table. “All right. Well, there it is. Get some rest tonight. We’ll meet down here for coffee at 5, then head out. In fact, it might be a good idea to get your horses ready and tie them at the west side of the hotel tonight. Save us some time in the mornin’. We might get lucky, but it might take a couple’a days, so be sure to bring all your possibles.”
Everyone finished their meal, then headed off to get their horses and take care of other matters.
But a few hours after dark, the plan changed.
*
Wes awoke from a sound sleep. There was something. A loud sound of some kind, and it sounded as if it came from the hallway.
From the other side of the dark room came a whispered, “Wes, what was that?”
It was Pinchot.
Wes folded back the covers and swung his legs off the bed. “Shh! I don’t know. Listen.” He reached for his gun belt, which was slung over the headboard, and strapped it around the waist of his long johns. He went to the window, moved the curtain aside slightly with the back of his left hand and peered down at the street below.
Several men were gathered on horseback in front of the hotel. Most we wearing sombreros. One was leading a horse with no saddle.
The sound was of scuffling in the hallway. That and muffled cries. Then there was a mushy-sounding thump and the scuffling sounds stopped. They were replace with a soft, dragging sound, and heavy boots. Then heavy boots on the stairs.
Wes hissed, “Come on!” and moved quietly to the door.
Sensing Pinchot behind him, he opened the door a crack and peered out.
Nothing.
He moved silently into the hallway and looked left toward the stairs.
Nothing.
He glanced back. “You know where Corporal Ringley’s room is?”
“Yes sir.”
“Draw your gun and go check. If he ain’t there, come follow me down the stairs.”
“Yes sir.” Pinchot moved past him to the right as Wes turned away to the left.
Wes shoulders were tight as he waited to hear gunfire from behind him.
When it wasn’t forthcoming and he heard the quiet sounds of bare footfalls coming up the hall, he stepped quietly down the first set of stairs to the landing. He stopped and looked down and to the left.
Three men. The bandito on the right, his sombrero hanging at his back from a chin strap, had opened the door and moved through. Then Corporal Ringley, turned sideways, his head sagging, then another bandito just behind him and to the left.
They were taking Ringley!
“Come on,” Wes said, and started down the last set of stairs just as the front door closed.
By the time they ran to the door and pulled it open, the sudden, heavy sound of multiple hooves greeted them, and it was already fading away to the east. A cloud of dust, barely illuminated in the starlight, hung in the air almost a quarter-mile down the road.
From the stairs, Garcón yelled, “What’s going on?”
Wes yelled over his shoulder, “Get Longstreet and Elkins and come on! Sandoval got Ringley!” Then he and Pinchot ran outside and around the northwest corner of the hotel. A moment later they rode around the same corner and galloped down Washington. In the darkness, the banditos were almost out of sight.
A moment later, Longstreet, Elkins and Garcón followed.
A short distance east of town, just short of the hill where Captain Garcia and Ranger Garcón had lain in wait for Sandoval almost a week earlier, the banditos turned south without slowing.
