Deadfall (24 page)

“Is your father home?” asked Don Sebastian.

The girl shook her head.

“No, sir, Don Sebastian,” she answered. “My father is over at the corrals, working with the cattle . . . my mother is at the grocery. She should be back soon.”

“Tell your mother not to worry. We will ride out to the cattle corrals . . . I wish to talk with your father.”

They turned and stepped off the porch. Mounting their horses, they rode off in the direction of the cattle pens.

 

 

“It is oh so good to see you Don Sebastian,” said the large, dark-skinned man with chiseled muscles under his dirty, white work shirt. “Can I be of assistance to you, señor?”

“
Si
, Rodolfo,” said the Don. “I would like to see the accounting of my cattle for this month.”

“If you will wait right here, I will get the books and bring them to you,” said Rodolfo.

He turned and entered a small, canvas-covered shepherd's wagon directly behind them. He returned in minutes, carrying several ledgers.

“I have the accounting of your cattle right here,” said Rodolfo.

He handed the ledgers to Don Sebastian. The Don immediately began to thumb through the pages of handwritten columns of figures.

“Everything looks fine to me, Rodolfo,” he said. “But I would like to take these ledgers back with me to the
hacienda
for the night.”

“Whatever pleases you, Don Sebastian,” said Rodolfo.

“I will have them delivered back to you before nine tomorrow morning,” said the Don. “Oh,” he hesitated, “one ledger appears to be missing, Rodolfo. May I accompany you back inside and help you look for it?”

“By all means, Don Sebastian,” said the head
vaquero
. “Just follow me.”

Once inside the rough-hewn caravan, the Don took Rodolfo by the sleeve and began whispering.

“Tonight, I would like for the cattlemen and the farmers to prepare for a celebration,” he began. “A
fiesta
. . . in honor of my son, Chico. Will you be able to prepare for such a
fiesta
in so little time, Rodolfo? I would like to bring my son to the village shortly after seven this evening.”

“We can do that, Don Sebastian,” said the
vaquero
, smiling.

“All right,” the Don continued, “so, if you will excuse us, my son and I must be getting back to the
hacienda
.”

They turned to the door and went outside.

“Don Sebastian and his boy must leave us now,” said Rodolfo to the other
vaqueros
who had gathered around. They all made sweeping bows in the Don's direction.

“May God be with you, Don Sebastian,” said Rodolfo.

The other men did the same.

The Don and Henry Ellis reined their horses around and nudged them over to the road that would take them back to the
hacienda
.

The others watched them go until they were consumed by their own dust.

One of the other
vaqueros
came from around the side of the wagon. He joined Rodolfo, and they both continued to watch after the departing riders.

“Rodolfo,” he began, “I did not know that Don Sebastian had another son.”

“He does not have another son, my friend. That boy you just saw riding away with him is a prisoner . . . just as we are.”

Roca Fuerte's eyes were following the Don and Henry Ellis as they disappeared behind the curtain of dust they had created themselves. He was observing from his hiding place behind a water tank that sat a few yards away from the shepherd's wagon, where Rodolfo kept the statistics on the cattle. He stood up to his full height before he stepped out to join Rodolfo and the other
vaqueros
.

“I hate that man,” said Rodolfo, referring to the Don. “He treats our people as if they were his personal property instead of the keepers of his land and livestock that we are.”

“So, you owe no obligation to Don Sebastian?” said Fuerte.

“No, señor,” said Rodolfo. “We pay him a percentage of the wages we receive for working the cattle, for the use of his land . . . just as the farmers do with their crops. He means nothing to any of us.”

“When we were talking earlier, you said you and the others would not stand in our way if my friends and I attacked the Don's
hacienda
?”

“What if you came for the boy tonight? The Don has ordered a celebration to honor his son.”

“That would be all right with us, señor,” answered Fuerte.

“Even if you were to kill the Don and drag his body through the manure in the street, he would still mean nothing to us,” said Rodolfo.

“Then I have your word that you and the other workers will look the other way when my friends and I try and rescue the American boy?” said Fuerte.

“
Sí
, señor,” said Rodolfo, “we will all be looking the other way, as you have asked us to.”

Fuerte held out his hand and the two men shook on it.

“And you will also tell the farmers of our agreement?” said Fuerte.

Rodolfo nodded. “The farmers feel the same about Don Sebastian as we
vaqueros
do.”

“I will do my best to get you and your people some rifles and ammunition,” said Fuerte, “just in case the Don decides to hold you responsible.”

“Thank you again, Señor Fuerte. We are very grateful for all you are doing for us,” said Rodolfo.

“I will tell Señor Sunday of everything you have agreed to. He will be very pleased.”

“Then, we shall see you this evening at the celebration for the boy.”

“
Sí
,” said Fuerte, “you may not know we are there, but we will be there . . . for sure.”

He nodded to Rodolfo. The
vaquero
nodded back.

 

 

Finding the Seminole-Negro camp was not that easy for Elisabeth Rogers and Mitch Pennell. They were about to give up their search when a certain, recognizable, Seminole-Negro found them.

It was Billy July, who was once again discovering the Americans wandering in the desert—only this time they were wandering much closer to his camp than before.

“
Americanos
. . . Up here,” yelled Billy July from his perch on a rocky ledge quite near, but somewhat higher up than, the trail on which the pair were riding. “You have returned to the land of the Black-Seminole. Is there something you wish to talk about?”

 

 

As before, Mitch Pennell and Elisabeth Rogers were invited to sit near the hut by the pool with Billy July, where they were joined by Chief John Thomas Bodie.

For the first time, the two Seminole-Negro leaders were told of the true motive as to why Pennell and his friends were scouting around in Mexico so many miles away from the international border.

When the two leaders finally understood that a child—a boy of eleven years—was being held hostage by Don Sebastian at his
hacienda
several valleys away, they both showed their dislike for the Don's actions. They asked how the Americans had become involved with someone as immoral as Don Sebastian.

“He used to use our people as we use the burro, when we first arrived in this country,” said Billy July. “The Black-Seminole fortified most of the
hacienda
in which he lives.”

“That was until the Mexican government advised him not to harass our tribe,” added Chief Bodie.

Elisabeth began to repeat the same story that Pennell had told them earlier, about how Armendariz and his men had kidnapped the boy's parents . . . and how Charley and the boy, who was Charley's grandson, had gathered some old friends together and led them all into Mexico with the hope of rescuing the boy's parents.

“So, you came back here to ask us for help. Is that your reason for being here?” said Billy July.

“That was our initial reasoning, gentlemen,” said Elisabeth. “If you could possibly do us that favor, I'm sure our leader, Mr. Charles Abner Sunday, would make it worth your while.”

“If it is guns and ammunition you need . . .” said Pennell.

“We have plenty of guns and ammunition,” answered Billy July. “You must remember that many of our men served in the United States Army before we decided to make our home here in Mexico. But now, our weapons are only used for hunting.”

“Then, what I will do before we leave,” said Pennell, “is tell you from where, and when, we will begin our attack. And if you choose, it will be entirely up to you to join us in our fight to free the boy.”

 

 

Roca Fuerte rode his horse into the outfit's camp an hour before sunset. He unsaddled, then tied his mount to the picket line where there was fresh alfalfa and oats—both “borrowed,” from the Don's fields nearby.

When Fuerte eventually found, then told, Charley of the good fortune he'd had that day by talking with the leader of the
vaqueros
, and that the farmers would also join the
vaqueros
in their promise not to involve themselves when and if the outfit raided the
hacienda
, it gave Charley a warm feeling inside. He was finally realizing that his choice to leave Henry Ellis behind with Don Sebastian had been a good one—and by doing that, he'd also made it possible for him and the members of his outfit to live, and fight, another day.

 

 

Henry Ellis was in the dining room of the
hacienda
. He sat at his end of the long table eating a special Mexican dessert his host had his chefs prepared for them. At the other end of the table, Don Sebastian had chosen a cigar from his humidor and was now puffing on an after-dinner smoke. The Don's eyes were on the boy across the length of the table, and he was thinking about whether this American lad was going to be able to replace the son he'd lost those oh, so many years ago. He liked the boy, he was sure of that, but to ever have a legitimate father/son, loving relationship was something he was beginning to doubt.

So far, Henry Ellis had done nothing to show that he didn't appreciate what Don Sebastian was doing for him. And on a personal side, Henry Ellis had shown him absolute respect since the boy's grandfather, and the other Texans, had been escorted back to the border—which they had promised never to cross again.

“Chico,” the Don called out.

The boy looked up.

“I'm sorry, Don Sebastian. My mind was on something else.”

“Perhaps in your mind you were with your parents, your grandfather, and your other friends?” said the Don. “Or perhaps you were planning a way to escape again?”

Henry Ellis shook his head. He stood up and walked the span of the table until he stood facing the older man.

“I gave you my word, Don Sebastian,” said the boy. “I gave you my word that I would never try to escape from the
hacienda
, ever again.”

“Tonight, my son,” said Don Sebastian, “I have decided we will do something different . . . tonight I have requested that the two of us be allowed to join the
hacienda
's farm and ranch workers. At my insistence, they are putting on a celebration in honor of my new son . . . you . . . who now resides in the
hacienda
with his father.”

“Where will this celebration take place, Don Sebastian?” asked Henry Ellis.

“In the people's village, of course,” said the Don. “In the village of my workers, in the area in front of the church. After supper, when you have changed your clothing, I will send one of my servants to pick you up. Is that all right with you, Chico?”

“I will be ready, Don Sebastian,” said the boy.

 

 

“If Roca is right, and the Don is having a
fiesta
celebration for Henry Ellis tonight,” said Charley, “then we'll have to change our plans completely, and instead of attacking the
hacienda
like we were going to do before, we'll make an attempt to rescue him tonight, while he is away from the protective walls of the Don's
hacienda
.”

“Elisabeth and Pennell are still out there somewhere trying to arrange an agreement with the Black-Seminoles,” said Sergeant Stone. “If we make our move tonight, there's no way we can expect any additional help from them.”

“I suspect that those special weapons in your toolboxes will have to make up for the Black-Seminoles' absence,” said Charley. “You better unpack those cases, Sergeant, and pass out what's inside, while it's still light enough to show the members of this outfit how to use 'em.”

“Yes, sir,” said the sergeant. “I'll get on that right away.” Then he turned and walked over to the chuckwagon, where Fuerte, Holliday, and Feather were sitting with Roscoe.

“We'll need to set these up opposite the outside walls of the
hacienda
,” said Fuerte. “Sergeant Stone should be the one to choose the sites. As for the semiautomatic pistols—”

“Semiautomatic pistols?” said Charley, cutting him off, then turning to Sergeant Stone, “you never said you could get semiautomatic pistols. Hell, I didn't know they made such a thing.”

“They sure do,” said Sergeant Stone. “And I was able to get my hands on five of those little bastards . . . some of the only Borchardt C93 pistols in existence, and some extended magazines plus several cases of the new smokeless-powder ammunition.”

He held up one of the semiautomatic pistols for all to see. It was a strange-looking invention. The magazine was contained in the pistol's grip, something never before accomplished until then. Plus there was a large overhang at the rear of the pistol containing a toggle-lock mechanism similar to the recently developed Maxim machine gun, giving the weapon a somewhat unfriendly look.