“Easy there, Tennessee,” Jim said.
“Easy? You just going to let him talk like that?”
“Yes.”
“Senor, I suggest you listen to your friend,” Ortega said to Tennessee. “He is man who knows his place.”
“You son of a bitch! I wish I knew enough Spanish to cuss you out in your own language,” Tennessee sputtered.
Again, Jim interrupted him. “That’s enough, Tennessee. Remember, he is our trail boss.”
“That’s right,” Ortega said with a broad smile. “I am your jefe.”
“Jim, I’ve never knowed you to show the white feather like that,” Tennessee said.
“I’ve got my reasons,” Jim said.
“I hope so.”
“I must go somewhere for a few days,” Ortega said. “Stay here until I return.”
“Are you going after the horses?” Jim asked.
“Sí. I go after the horses.” Ortega pointed across the plaza. “There is a hotel behind the cantina. Wait there.”
“What will we do about our own horses?” Tennessee asked.
“There is a place over there for your horses as well. I will be back in three days.” Without so much as a nod, Ortega rode off.
“So, Jim, you want to tell us why you was givin’ in to that bastard?” Barry asked.
“We’ve come all the way down here to get a herd of horses and take them back up to Colorado. Do any of you know where we are supposed to get these horses?” Jim asked.
“No.”
‘No, and neither do I. Ortega is the only one who does know. And since that’s why we came down here in the first place, and since we don’t get the rest of our money until we take them back, I plan to let that son of a bitch have his way on everything. After we get the horses, it’ll be a different matter.”
“Why? What do you plan to do then?”
Jim smiled at the others. “Why, I reckon Senor Ortega is goin’ to have to tangle with the surliest bunch of wranglers anyone ever run across. In the meantime, we’ll just take it easy here, like he said.”
“Take it easy? How can you take it easy in a flyblown dump like this? What are we supposed to do for the next few days?”
“Any of you boys ever developed a likin’ for tequila?”
“I’ve drunk it,” Tennessee said, screwing up his nose in distaste. “But it sure don’t hold a candle to Tennessee sour mash.”
“Or Kentucky bourbon,” Ken added.
“Well, I’ve run across a few folks back in the States who really like it,” Jim said. “They say you have to take it with salt and lemon, but once you learn how to do it, it’s pretty good.”
“Yeah, well, whatever it is, it has to be better than nothin’ to drink at all,” Gene said. “And if we really have three days here, I reckon we have the time to learn to like it.”
“What do you say we get our lessons started now?” Jim suggested. “Then after that . . .” he let the sentence hang.
“After that, what?” Tennessee asked.
“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but some of the senoritas are really pretty,” Jim said. “And they say that with enough tequila, all of them are beautiful.”
“Then what are we standing around out here for? Let’s get started,” Ken suggested.
The others laughed.
On the other side of the plaza from the cantina, unnoticed by the Americans, was the office of the Mexican Federal Police.
Sargento Gonzales was holding a telegram he had recently received from the district head-quarters in Chihuahua, advising him to be on the lookout for a group of white murderers who had crossed the border into Mexico. He stood at the window of his office and looked toward the well, where the seven Americans were drinking water. The eighth man, a Mexican, did not dismount, but drank from the dipper handed him by an old woman who was at the well.
Gonzales reread the wire that had been sent.
Tenientes Arino and Montoya were murdered by seven Americans who are riding with one Mexican. Before leaving Texas, the Americans are believed to have murdered a man named Kincaid and his son, both citizens of the United States. After murdering the Kincaid men, the outlaws stole Senora Kincaid and her two daughters, transporting them across the border to Mexico.
You are ordered to be especially vigilant but to take no direct action should these desperados arrive in your village.
Carefully, Gonzales counted the Americans. There were seven of them. And the Mexican on horseback made up the eighth man. The numbers and makeup of the band coincided exactly with the information contained in the wire.
“Diputado Reyna, they are here,” Gonzales said from the window.
Reyna, the deputy, who was polishing the chimney of an oil lantern, looked up at his chief.
“Sí,” he replied. He started to go back to the polishing, then he looked up again. “Who is here, Sargento?”
“The gringos who murdered Tenientes Arino and Montoya. They are here, in the plaza, right now.”
Setting the lamp down carefully, Reyna moved quickly over to the window. He counted the men in the plaza. “There are seven of them,” he said. “Eight, if you count the Mexican.”
“Sí. That is why I know they are who they are. Montoya and Arino were murdered by seven gringos, riding with one Mexican.”
Gonzales looked at Reyna as a huge smile spread across the sergeant’s porcine face. “Reyna, do you know what this means? All of Mexico is looking for them and they have come here, to Escalon. What an opportunity! The telegram from Chihuahua says we are to take no actin. But they are here and I will not let them get away.”
“There are seven of them,” Reyna warned again.
“Sí, seven.”
“Senor Sargento, did you not also say the wire from Chihuahua says we are to take no action?” Reyna asked.
Gonzales’s eyes shined brightly as he looked at Reyna. “Do you know how fortunate we are that they have come to our village? After we capture them, the reward will be great. I will be a teniente and you, Diputado Reyna, will be a sargento.”
“But there are only two of us!”
“We will have men from the town help us,” Gonzales said.”
“Men from town? They are peasants. Why do you think they will help us?”
“They will do it because they love their country. They will do it because I will ask them to do it. And they will do it because the government will give fifty pesos to each man who helps.”
“The Mexican is riding away,” Reyna said, watching the plaza.
“Let him go. He is of no consequence to us. Look, the gringos are going to the cantina. Quickly, Reyna, gather the others. On this day we will make history!”
With a look of trepidation, Reyna left the office to do the bidding of his chief.
“No, no, you gotta do it like this,” Jim explained. He licked salt from the back of his wrist, took a bite from the cut lemon, then swallowed some tequila.
“Let me try,” Ken said. He took a swallow of tequila, then tried to lick the salt off his wrist. But he had not yet swallowed the tequila, and when he opened his mouth to lick the salt, he wound up spewing tequila all over the place.
The others laughed,. “Hey, dummy, hasn’t anyone ever told you that you should never open your mouth when it is full of hooch?” Gene asked.
The others guffawed again.
“Well, what we need is another couple of lemons,” Tennessee said. “Amigo,” he called to the bartender. When the bartender didn’t answer, Tennessee looked down toward the other end of the bar. “That’s funny,” he said.
“What’s funny?” Jim asked. He had just sprinkled his wrist with salt and was getting ready to take another lick.
“The barkeep is gone,” Tennessee said.