Outlaw Hell (30 page)

The Pecos Kid was on the dodge yet again, headed for the ancient home of the Aztecs. Rattlesnakes or scorpions could get him, not to mention the Mexican Army, and Comancheros might string him up by his heels. Nestor kicked
clods of desert behind him, as his youthful rider gazed back at outlaw hell falling behind in the distance. At least I know who my mother is, Duane thought gratefully, and thank you, dear father, for being a man that others admired and trusted to lead them. I knew you weren't an outlaw, and I'll clear your name even if it kills me.

The clatter of cavalry reverberated off mountains, as bugles blew and officers shouted orders on the horizon. The detachment of the Fighting Fourth charged helpless little Escondido, but the hard-riding Pecos Kid was long gone.

The mighty Rio Grande gleamed like an iridescent silver snake in the Texas night, but Nestor kept barreling onward. When the horse dived off the riverbank, a massive splash of cold water baptized horse and rider. The Pecos Kid yelled with strange inexplicable joy as his hundred-dollar stolen stallion stroked powerfully toward the distant shore.