Twisted Hills (19 page)

Sam allowed one of the two soldiers to take the French rifle from his hands.

“Is it the same as the others?” the captain asked.

The soldier inspected the French rifle in the grainy dawn light.

“
Sí
,
Capitan
, it is the same as the others,” he said.

Sam took a deep breath and glared at Segert, who stood with a thin smirk on his face.

“It's a firing squad offense, I hear,” Segert said.

Sam just stared. He got the picture. The other soldier leveled his rifle at his stomach. The one holding the French rifle reached out and lifted Sam's Colt from his side.

Daryl Dolan stepped into sight and stood beside Segert.

“I always admire a good firing squad,” he said. “It's louder than a hanging, but still lots of fun to watch.”

Two soldiers from the other side of the campsite dragged one of the rebels in front of Sam and threw the bloody man to the ground.

“Is this the man you received the rifles from?” the captain asked in a demanding tone.

“
Sí
,
sí
, it is him,” the bloody man groaned over split and swollen lips. His eyes were too swollen shut to recognize anyone, Sam decided. But it made no difference. This had all been set up and played out before they'd even arrived. This was Raymond Segert's way of showing he owned the law in Agua Fría and the Twisted Hills, maybe in the whole Blood Mountain Range. Sam stared at the captain, then at Segert, then turned his gaze toward Lilith, who stood deliberately looking away from him, tears glistening in her dark eyes.

Seeing that Lilith wouldn't face him, Sam started piecing everything together in his mind. He had actually started running some things through his mind the night before while Lilith slept. He had grown suspicious, and what was happening now only proved his suspicions right. The gunrunning was just one more of Segert's operations. The woman and her father must have been managing it for him for quite a while. Now that the father was dead, it fell to her to do Segert's bidding. Sam stared at her for a moment longer, then turned to Segert and Dolan.

“Firing squad?” he said. He shook his head slowly and added confidently, “I don't think so, not today.”

Dolan grinned.

“I've seen men break down this way in the end,” he said.

But Segert stepped forward and gave Sam a curious look.

“Not today, why?” he asked.

“Because if you shoot me today, you won't get the gold from the rifles
you
sold.”

“I didn't sell rifles to the rebels,” said Segert. “I'd be a fool to do that. The
federales
and I take care of one another in this range.”

“Oh,” Sam said, “then I suppose not getting the pouches of gold won't bother you at all.”

“To hell with a firing squad,” said Dolan. “Let me pop a couple in his noggin.” He stepped forward beside Segert, his Colt coming up cocked from his holster.

“Stand down, Dolan,” Segert barked. He turned and stared at Sam as he spoke to Lilith. “Where's that gold, little darling?” he asked.

“We hid it in the crevice,” Lilith said, pointing up along the rugged hillside. “It's up there.”

Segert gave Sam a look of satisfaction.

“Want to bet?” Sam said.

Segert's look of satisfaction turned disturbed.

“I moved it during the night,” Sam said. “Go see for yourself.”

“Now, why would you do that?” Segert asked. “Did dear Lilith do something to make you suspicious—make you think she and I might be in cahoots?” He gave Lilith a dark glare. She looked frightened.

“No,” Sam said. “You did.”

“Oh, I did?” said Segert.

“Yes,” said Sam. “The first time I ever met you.”

Segert looked puzzled.

“You called me
Joe
,”
Sam said. “The only person I told my name is Joe is her.” He nodded at Lilith; she looked away. “Everybody else knows my name is
Jones.
”

“Jones, Joe, who gives a damn?” said Dolan. “This is nuts. Let me kill him.” He tried to raise his gun. Segert shoved the barrel down.

“Stand down, Dolan,” Segert growled, “or I'll have your gun stuck where you would never want it to be.” He glared at him, then said, “Take Lilith up to the gold. Let me know if it's still where they hid it.”

Sam, Segert and the Mexican all watched as Lilith and Dolan hurried to the crevice and began climbing up.

The Mexican captain looked concerned with the way this was going. He stepped closer to Segert.

“What is the holdup here, Señor Segert?” he said between the two of them. “You said this would be quick and easy, and no one would be any the wiser.”

“It will be, Captain,” Segert said, his fists clenched, straining to keep from shouting at him in anger. “You wanted to bust up a gunrunning operation. I'm giving you one. Stay back and shut up. Let me get it worked out.”

The captain stepped back, red-faced, demeaned.

Segert turned back to Sam as he jerked out a handkerchief and wiped spit from his lips and settled himself down.

“What good is owning the Mexican government if you can't tell them what to do, eh, Joe?” he said with a sly grin.

“I've always said that,” Sam replied.

“You've
always said that . . . ,
” Segert laughed. Then he stopped and said, “See? Joe—Jones, whatever. That's the problem, you're just a little too quick for life in Agua Fría. Too quick with a gun, too quick thinking.” He gestured toward the hillside where Lilith and Dolan had climbed out of sight. “The first time I heard of you, I knew you weren't going to last. You should have come in quieter—not cracking heads at a cantina, shooting up the local scalp hunters, all that. What the hell were you thinking?”

“Just trying to get myself inside where the money's being made,” Sam said.

Segert reached out a thick hand and patted Sam on the shoulder.

“Well, it's a damn shame, is all I can say,” he said quietly. He turned and looked up the hillside. “Hey, up there. What's the story?” he called out.

After a silent pause, Dolan called down to him from within the jaws of the crevice.

“It's gone,” he said, his voice echoing slightly.

“Raymond,” Lilith cried out, “it was here last night, I swear to you it was. You must believe me.”

Raymond . . .
Sam took note of her sudden familiarity with Segert.

“She's something, that gal,” Segert said to Sam.

“Yes, she's something,” Sam said flatly.

Segert gave him a curious look. Then his expression turned bemused.

“Don't tell me you've fallen for her,” he said with an air of disbelief.

“No, I haven't,” said Sam.

Segert considered it.

“So, if I were to say, Jones, tell me where the gold is or I'll kill her, you wouldn't bat an eye?”

“Segert,” said Sam, hoping to strike down any such idea, “right now, if you gave me a gun, I'd likely shoot her myself.”

“Shoot her yourself,” Segert chuckled. “See, you've got a way of making me laugh. I like that.”

“Then here's something else you'll get a chuckle out of,” Sam said. “I'm not telling you where the gold is, no matter what you do, no matter who you kill.”

Segert's smile vanished. An ugly scowl swept over his broad face.

“That's just mean-spirited, Jones,” he said, poking his finger against Sam's chest with each word. “If you're dead, and the woman's dead, what do you care if I've got the gold?”

Sam shrugged.

“Like you said,
mean-spirited
,” he replied. Then he said, “But Bell Madson won't like it, you coming home without his cut of the rifle deal.”

“Bell Madson?” said Segert. “The hell do I care what Madson likes or doesn't like? We're what you call
competidors
,
him and me.”

“Huh-uh.” Sam shook his head. “There's not two gangs here, only one. And Madson's the boss,” he said flatly. “I figured it out. I've never laid eyes on him, but I've already run into you twice. You're the one out here in the hot sun. Where's Madson? Or does he even let you know?”

Segert backhanded him; Sam's face snapped to the side. The two Mexicans grabbed him, held him in place.

“Now, look what you made me do,” Segert said. “You're wrong thinking I won't have them kill you.” He gazed off up the hillside, seeing Dolan and Lilith walking toward him, empty-handed.

“Son of a bitch . . . ,” Segert cursed under his breath.

As Sam shook off the sting and the ringing of the broad backhand across his jaw, he almost smiled to himself. He'd just learned that what he'd thought was correct. Madson called all the important shots here. All he had to do was kill Segert and get him out of the way. He looked around and realized it was a tall order at the moment.

Dolan stopped beside Segert. Lilith stood to the side, giving Sam a look of disappointment, as if it were
him
who had let
her
down. He shook his head and looked back at Dolan and Segert. Dolan sucked at a spot of blood on his palm.

“I cut my damn hand on a rock because of this bummer,” he said, giving Sam a scathing stare.

“Well, ain't that just a damn shame?” Segert said with sarcasm.

Captain Silvero stood over beside Lilith, watching, growing impatient.

“Señor Segert,” he said, “may I now shoot this one for you? I wish to get my men to San Carlo before the heat of the day sets.”

Segert gritted his teeth at the captain.

“Not until he tells me where the rifle gold is hidden!” he said. “Do you understand that?”

The captain stepped back and fell silent.

But Dolan cut in, stepping forward, only inches from Sam's face. “That's a damn shame,” he said. “I really had hopes of seeing somebody die first thing this morning.” He turned to Raymond Segert, not realizing how tightly wound Segert was from talking with Sam. He grinned and said, “Seems like we ought to shoot somebody—”

“Damn it to hell!” Segert shouted. He snatched Dolan's Colt from his holster before the gunman could stop him, spun and fired four bullets into the bloody Mexican rebel he'd questioned a moment ago and left lying in the dirt. The rebel jerked each time a bullet hit him, but with the fourth, he fell limp.

Gun smoke rose and drifted. The sound of the four shots echoed out across the desert floor. Sam wanted to turn his head and look through the grainy morning light. But instead he just stared straight ahead.

Uh-oh . . . ,
he said to himself.

•   •   •

At dawn, the Mexican soldiers had pushed the wagon backward until it sat near a small campfire they'd built. As dawn widened on the hillside, Sam stood with his hands tied behind him, the rope running around the wagon's rear wheel. Lilith walked up to him, leading Andre, who now had a saddle on his back. The other wagon horse still stood with the dun in the shelter of rocks.

“I—I want you to know, Joe,” she said in a soft tone, “that this is not how I—”

“Let me ask you something, Lilith,” Sam said, cutting her off sharply. “Was the man I buried for you really your father, or just some gunman Segert and Madson sent along to help you cross the desert?”

She looked stunned that he even considered such a thing. She shook her head and started to answer. But behind her, Dolan laughed and shook his head.

“Jones is not as stupid as he looks, is he, peddler gal?” he said to Lilith.

She ignored Dolan and gave Sam a look through glistening, tear-welled eyes.

“What you must think of me, Joe,” she said, shaking her head slowly. “I suppose I deserve it.”

“Not to break up her performance,” Dolan said, still with a dark chuckle, “but to answer your question, Jones, no, he was not her father. He was an old gunman named Rowdy Bart Taggs. Knew the desert like the back of his hand—died in his sleep, the story goes.” He gave Lilith an accusing glare.

“That's enough,” Segert called out, riding up with four of his mounted gunmen bunched up behind him. He gave Lilith a nod and she stepped away from Sam and up into her saddle. Mexican soldiers milled around the campsite, their rifles leaning against upstanding rock. Captain Silvero stood watching Segert as if awaiting further orders.

Atop his horse, Segert looked back and forth between Silvero and Dolan.

“Here's the deal,” he said. “As soon as the sun is cooking good and hot, tie
Joe Jones
down out on the desert floor a ways and let the sun boil his brain until he gives up the gold.” He turned his gaze to Sam and added, “Joe, the sooner you tell them, the sooner they'll put a bullet or two through your head. Don't wait too long. It wouldn't make sense.” He gestured toward the rising sun in the distant sky.

Segert looked down at Dolan and said, “Once he gives up that gold, get it to me quick, you hear?”

“You've got it,” Dolan said. He stood staring at Sam.

“
Capitan
,” Segert said, “as soon as this one's dead, you take your men on back to San Carlo—but not before,
su comprende
?”

“Yes,
I understand
,” Captain Silvero said in a voice stiff with resentment.

Segert chuckled under his breath, turned his horse with Lilith and his gunmen and rode away.

No sooner had the riders gotten out of sight down the hillside than Dolan walked over to Sam and poked him in his stomach with his rifle barrel.

“I should beat the living hell out of you before we stake you out, making me have to stay back and do all this, as hot as it's going to get.”

“It's a tough day for you, I admit,” Sam said.

Dolan just stared at him.

“Why'd you come to Agua Fría acting like the cock of the walk anyway?” he asked. “All you did was give all the wrong people a mad-on.” He grinned. “Now look at you.”

Sam took a breath and let it out slowly. A lot of what Dolan said was right. Maybe he should have played things a little different. But it didn't matter now. This was the hand he held. He'd have to play it on out.

He saw the captain walk up and stop beside Dolan. He had his tunic open at the throat against the already encroaching heat.

“If it is all the same with you,
señor
,” Silvero said to Dolan, “I start my men searching the hillside for the gold. When they find it, we can kill this one and go our ways.”

“Suits me,” Dolan said. “All Segert wants is the gold. After that, he don't care what we do with Jones here.” He reached his gun barrel up and tweaked Sam's nose back and forth.

“It is settled, then,” said Silvero. “I will send men up the hillside.”

“Do it,
Capitan
,” Dolan said. “I'll just go have coffee while we wait.” He looked back at Sam and ginned again. “Don't go rushing off nowhere, Jones,” he said. “There's going to be a whole lot going on here in an hour or two—wouldn't want you missing out on any of it.”

“Wouldn't miss it for the world,” Sam said, almost to himself.

He stood watching as the two walked away. No sooner had their backs turned to him than he felt around behind him and found the metal edge of the wagon wheel.

Sharp enough,
he told himself. He twisted his wrists and began sawing his rope back forth on the wheel edge.