Range War Along the Pecos, by John Theron Crow

Range War Along the Pecos

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

 
Over at the Boar's head, the three Murdochs and the Mason brothers were seated at a table casually playing poker and talking over the day's occurrences. "Damn, Brazos, you really mean ta fight that halfbreed? Hell, the man's crazy! If you lose, he'll probably kill ya, or at least scalp ya." Josh Mason was saying.
"He ain't crazy." Shane began, "He was raised by a missionary couple who educated him proper. But he was always an Indian at heart. Even though he talks like an educated man, and rides with the white man now, he's spent almost half of his life with different Indian tribes. Deep inside, he is an Indian at heart."
"I might have known you'd feel that way. I saw you save his tail from that gunman Barlow, and I cain't fer the life of me figure out why." Tommy Mason said.
"Well, hell, we told ya earlier how he gave Jesse the lowdown on who shot em the night before. Till then, Jesse only THOUGHT it might be Ransom, now, he KNOWS. Nighthawk sure as hell didn't have ta tell us them things, an that information may save Jesse's life or one of ours. I figured I owed him one." Shane explained.
Over across the room at the bar, Peaceful Jones was pleading with Conchita. "Hell Conchita. You been a listenin' ta Reverend Phelps or sumthin'? How come you won't spend a couple a hours with me an Bart here?" Jones asked genuinely puzzled.
"Conchita sorry but she safe herself for Beelly tonight."
"Who the hell's BEELLY?" Jason asked resentfully.
"Beelly Fogg. Conchita like Beelly. He ees more bettor loooking then joo an hee more fun for Conchita." The woman answered honestly.
"Hell honey, our dinero's as good as his an we'll only keep ya a couple of hours. Sides, that little pup's not here just now. After what the boss did ta his pappy, he's probably afeared ta show his baby face around here anyhow." Jones said, his frustration mounting by the minute.
"Beelly be heere real soon. Conchita know."
"Well then honey, would ya consider rompin' with me an Bart here if'n little Billy don't show up, in a couple of hours?"
"Eef Beelly no come in two hours, Conchita go weeth joo. Okay? Now joo go away an leef Conchita alone!"
"What the hell, Jones?" Jason asked incredulously.
Jones grabbed Jason by the arm and pulled him away from the bar saying, "You heard the lady. Let's leave her alone."
As they were moving away, Jones said, "Easy now Bart, way I figure, that pup ain't gunna show."
"How da ya figure that? If'n it was me, I'd show, by God, an from what I've heard, that kid's got guts."
"Hell Jason, sometimes I wonder about you. Fact is, he ain't gonna show cause were gonna see to it that he don't show."
"How we supposed ta do that? You heard Tanner's orders. We ain't supposed ta bother the Fogg boys none." Jason said.
"None, IF, we can help it." Jones said grinning. Now Jason began to smile, realization finally dawning upon him.
"Roberto! Come here a minute will ya? Andele!" Jones hollered at Roberto Mireles, snapping his fingers impatiently.
Roberto approached the table reluctantly, fearing that the gunmen were preparing to take out their frustrations concerning his sister's rejection of their advances, on him. He said suspiciously, "Si Senors?"
"Yeah Roberto. How bout you doin' me an ole Bart here a little favor? There's a silver dollar in it fer ya if'n ya do it muy rapido." Jones said.
"Si, Roberto do eet eef he can." the Mexican replied carefully.
"Alright, now you go over ta the Mecca Saloon and find Billy Fogg. You know who Billy Fogg is?"
"Si Senor, Roberto know Beelly Fogg."
"Good. Now when you see Billy over at the Mecca, you tell him that Conchita wants him ta come see her muy pronto! You tell him Conchita's gettin' tired of waitin' an is gunna find herself another man if'n he don't show up mighty quick like. Now you just tell him that, and nuthin' else or me an ole Bart here might think you ain't our friend, an you know what happens to folks who ain't our friends. Comprende?"
"Si, Roberto understan but--Conchita no say that."
"Don't you worry bout that none. See, we're playin' a little joke on young Billy. After his pappy fought our boss, we all shook hands an made friends. An we like ta pull jokes on our friends. Sides, the sooner he finishes with yer sister, the sooner me an ole Bart here can have our turn. Now you comprende any better?"
"See, Senor. Roberto understan more bettor now."
Roberto took the proffered silver dollar from Jones and proceeded out the door, heading for the Mecca Saloon. He had an uneasy feeling about this. He didn't like or trust either Billy Fogg, or Jason and Jones. Still, their story sounded plausible enough, and he could use the extra dollar for sure. He went into the Mecca and spotted Billy Fogg at a table with his Father, Tyler Dain, and Dancing Jack Haylock.
Back at the Boar's Head, Bart Jason and Peaceful Jones got up and walked out into the hot and sultry West Texas night.
"That there, ought ta be as good a place as any." Jones said, pointing to an alley about a block from the entrance to the Boar's Head that Billy Fogg would no doubt pass by on his way to the Boar's Head coming from the Mecca which was on the same side of the street approximately four blocks north.
"Shit Bart, ya know what we need is some rope. Why the hell didn't I think of that sooner?" Jones complained.
"I can get some from the livery stable right quick." Jason offered.
"Naw, there might not be time. We'll wait till we knock 'em out, then I'll stand guard over him an if he comes to, I'll whap 'em again till ya get back with the rope. We don't want him ta see us if we can help it. If he does though, we'll just have ta protect ourselves an it'll be self defense."
"Sounds reasonable." Jason grunted and the two of them stepped back into the shadows of the alleyway, awaiting footsteps on the boardwalk. * * *
While Jason and Jones were preparing to waylay Billy Fogg, Chico Portalis was riding down into Javalina Canyon, so named because of the wild boars that at one time, had frequented the place. For the moment, it was occupied predominately by human vermin of the worst sort-- the Esperanza gang. Portalis had ridden his horse hard as Tanner had instructed him, and had covered the eight miles in about an hour. He was now in a canyon that was a bit over a hundred feet deep and was filled with creosote, mesquite, salt cedar, cactus and occasionally a cottonwood here and there.
During the rainy season, a stream ran through the length of the canyon, and this being the tail end of that season, it was bisecting it at that moment. Portalis saw the light of a campfire up ahead in a small grove of cottonwoods, mesquite and salt cedars. As he neared it, he began hearing voices and his apprehension grew.
Portalis feared very few men, being supremely confident in his own ability with a six gun or rifle. However, Muerte was a different story. Muerte was the most dangerous man in all of Mexico, or Texas. To Portalis, that meant he was the most dangerous man in the world! But Chico knew, as did many of the Mexican people, that Muerte was not merely a man. Were that the case, Chico would not be afraid of him. But Muerte, was no mere mortal. He was a demon from Hell cloaked in a man's fleshly clothing. If not actually a demon, he was certainly possessed of a demon and as such, was himself in possession of supernatural powers. How else could he have accomplished some of the things he had done?
Sneaking in and out of places full of people in order to assassinate a man or woman, without anyone else hearing or seeing a thing. Having been shot numerous times but never dying. Exhibiting speed in gunfights that no mere mortal could possibly possess. No, Muerte was not a mere mortal, Portalis knew this, and feared not only for his life, but his soul as well, since it was said that Muerte consumed the souls of those whom he killed. Yet Tanner had ordered him to give his instructions straight to Esperanza and Muerte at the same time, and only to them.
Just then, Chico heard the metallic click of a pistol being cocked and a voice said in Spanish, "Put your hands in the air, slowly." The voice sent a chill down his spine for he knew it was none other than that of Muerte himself.
Portalis, struggling valiantly to keep the fear from showing through his voice explained in Spanish that he had been sent by Tanner to relay a message to the ears of Esperanza and Muerte alone. He was then ordered to proceed forward into the camp, where he was greeted by Emillio Esperanza and several of his men, guns at the ready. After Esperanza had ascertained that Portalis had really been sent by Tanner, he invited him and Muerte over by the fire and produced a bottle of tequila. The three men sat down together as Portalis outlined what Tanner had in mind.
Ten minutes later, Portalis was riding out of the canyon, heading back toward Olsen's Falls at a gallup. He was still shaking from being near Muerte, whose evil visage he was unable to banish from his mind. Those obsidian eyes resembled the pit of Hell itself and seemed to bore clear through the gunman. As he had gazed deep into them, they had revealed to him revealed the flames of Hell-- dancing, beckoning him to come, and he could feel his soul being drawn inexorably from his body, ever deeper and deeper. Never in his life had he been so terrified. He would not hesitate to face any man, any ten men for that matter, but he never wished to see Muerte again.
What the superstitious gunfighter failed to realize was that the fires he had seen in Muerte's eyes were merely the reflection of the campfire Muerte had sitting in front of at the time. However, had anyone pointed that fact out to Portalis, he would never had believed them anyway, so deep was his fear. He was eternally grateful for the bottle of mescal Emillio had given him as he'd left the campsite. He slowed his horse to a walk, and took a long swallow, caught his breath, and took another. He felt his nerves steadying as the fiery liquid scalded its way down into his belly. One more big draught, and he was finally under control. He now headed toward Olsen's Falls at a slower, more relaxed pace. His job had been accomplished, and he was still alive and had escaped the fires of Hell itself! If he could face that and live, surely, there was no gunfighter anywhere (of human origin) that could conquer Chico Portalis.

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