“How about a steak, chili, and coffee?” Jim asked.
Pancho gave the order. Then as the woman headed for the kitchen, the boy told Jim he would go get his supplies now.
“Maybe you had better wait until I’ve had my supper. Then you can take me there,” Jim suggested.
“No, senor, that will not be good,” Pancho replied, shaking his head.
“Why not?”
“Because the man who owns the store will not sell to a gringo.”
“I see. So you want me to trust you with the money—is that it?”
“Sí, senor.”
“What if I give you the money and you ske daddle?”
“Qué?”
“Run away,” Jim explained. “If I give you the money, how do I know I’ll see you again?”
The boy shook his head ardently. “Senor, I will not run away,” he said.
“It’s easy for you to say that, Pancho, but I’ve never seen you before. I can’t just turn my money over to you without some assurance that you will come back with the goods.”
“You do not have to give me the money now. Give me the money when I bring the supplies to you.”
“Are you telling me the storekeeper will let you have it without having to pay for it first?”
Pancho smiled. “Sí.”
“Well, then you must be pretty trustworthy after all. All right, Pancho. If you can do that, gather up what I need, meet me back here, and I’ll pay for it,” Jim promised.
Nodding, Pancho left on his errand.
A few minutes later, the woman brought Jim’s meal. It was as delicious as promised, and after he finished his supper, he asked for a plate of tamales, not because he was still hungry, but because the food was so good.
As the woman headed for the kitchen to fill Jim’s order, Pancho opened the back door and came in, carrying two large cloth bags.
Jim smiled at him. “Good for you, Pancho. You did it.”
“I think maybe you should pay me now,” Pancho said.
“All right. How much was it?”
“One hundred pesos.”
Jim whistled softly. “One hundred pesos? That’s a little steep, isn’t it? I thought you said you were going to be able to save me money.”
“Fifty pesos,” Pancho said.
“Whoa, now, that’s quite a difference. So which is it? One hundred pesos or fifty pesos?”
“Will you pay one hundred pesos?” Pancho asked.
“No.”
“Will you pay fifty pesos?”
“Yes.”
Pancho smiled and nodded his head. “Then it is fifty pesos.”
Jim took the money from his pocket and handed it to Pancho. “I have to tell you, Pancho, there is something a little fishy about this whole transaction.”
“I brought your horse around back, senor,” Pancho said. “I think maybe you should take your supplies and go now.”
“What do you mean, go now?” Jim asked. “I just ordered a plate of tamales.”
Even as he was explaining the situation to Pancho, a plate of steaming tamales was set on the table.
“I think you will not have time to eat your tamales,” Pancho said. Without being offered one, Pancho picked up one of the spicy cylinders of ground meat, slipped it from its corn husk wrapping, and began eating.
“Pancho, why must I leave now?”
“I think you will not want to be here when the storekeeper discovers some of his things are gone.”
“What the hell? Pancho, did you steal these vittles?”
“Sí,” Pancho said in a matter-of-fact voice. “It was easy,” he added.
“Take it back,” Jim said, holding the sacks toward him. “Take it all back.”
At that moment, there was a loud commotion out on the plaza. A man was shouting, but because he was shouting in Spanish, Jim had no idea what he was saying.
“I think it is too late to take it back now,” Pancho said, reaching for another tamale. “I think maybe you had better go quickly. Everyone heard you talk about getting supplies when you were in the cantina. Now when they see you with these things, they will think you are the thief.”
Jim realized that Pancho was right. There was no way he could talk his way out of this, and even if he could, it would be at Pancho’s expense.
On the other hand, he had more than an ample supply of the goods he needed, and he had gotten it at a bargain rate. And if his horse was behind the café as Pancho had promised, then it shouldn’t be that difficult for him to get away.
“Is my horse really behind the café?” Jim asked.
“Sí, I brought him there myself. If you go quickly, you will get away before anyone else can get a horse.”
“All right,” Jim said, hefting the two bags. “I’ll take your advice and get out of here.” He started toward the back door, but just before he left, he turned toward the boy. “I’ll give you this,” he said. “You are an enterprising young man, Pancho . . . Pancho what? What is your last name?”
“Villa,” the boy said with a broad smile. “My name is Pancho Villa.”
Chapter 20
Jim Robison was a very welcome sight when he rode into camp carrying two large cloth bags filled with groceries.
“This is wonderful!” Katie said as she began taking inventory of the food Jim brought with him. “What did you do? Buy out the store? There’s chili powder, cinnamon, onions, dried apples, dried peaches, raisins, cornmeal, molasses—all sorts of things.”
Jim had no idea that young Pancho Villa had been so thorough in his “shopping.” He hadn’t even bothered to look into the sacks, so quickly had he left the little village.
“I thought a few extra things might be nice,” he said.
“I’ll show you just how nice it can be,” Katie said. “Girls, help me out here. No more beef jerky. Tonight, we eat well.”
“Oh, Lord, Miz Katie,” Frank said, rubbing his stomach after the meal that evening. “I know I said I wasn’t ready to settle down with any one woman, but I swear if I could find one that cooks like this, I might be tempted.”
Katie laughed. “Well, thank you, Frank. I’ll take that as a compliment.”
True to her promise, Katie and her daughters had prepared a veritable feast that evening. She had made a main course of beans, rice, onions, and bacon, liberally seasoned with chili powder. In addition to the main course, she had baked an apple pie and flavored it with cinnamon and molasses. The meal was washed down with copious amounts of coffee.
After paying homage to Katie and her daughters for preparing such a banquet, the four young men settled down with a final cup of coffee and a smoke. It was a time of contentment for all of them, and though Jim didn’t put it into words, he realized that this was what he liked best about being a cowboy.
He knew that people who lived in town could also have a good meal, a cup of coffee, and a pipe or a cigarette. But he also knew that, without the hard life of a cowboy to isolate such moments, there was no way anyone could enjoy them nearly as much as he did.
“I’ve been giving this business about Ortega some considerable thought,” Frank said as he used a burning brand to light his rolled cigarette. “What do you reckon he was really after?” Frank asked.
“He said he was after the women and the horses,” Jim said.
“The women, yes—he could sell them just like Shardeen planned, I suppose,” Frank said. “But what was he going to do with the horses?”
“I figure he was planning on delivering them to Allison, then collecting all the rest of the money himself,” Barry said.
Frank shook his head. “I don’t think so.”
“Well, what do you think?” Barry asked.
“I think the son of a bitch was going to steal the horses. He didn’t have no plans to take ’em back to Allison.”