Chasing Pancho Villa (23 page)

A twig snapped in the darkness. They both heard the noise. “Maria?” Harrison called out.

“So, we go to Durango. Then what?” Maria stepped into the small clearing. Starlight glistened off her tears.

“Maria, you're crying,” Harrison said, getting up. He caught her in his arms and they embraced. “Why are you crying?”

“Harry, I thought I'd never see you again. Or Daniel,” she said, wiping away the tears. “That man—I thought he'd kill you both even before we could rescue you.”

“Maria, what you did.… The courage it must have taken to find Villa. Then to get us,” Harrison said. He kissed her with more passion then he ever thought he had to give.

“Whew, Harry,” Maria replied with a gasp. “You are so…. I cannot find the word.”

Daniel watched in silence.

“How did you find us, hermana?” he asked finally.

“I made a deal with General Villa before we left Las Palomas, Daniel,” she replied. “For the weapons.”

Harrison began collecting firewood. He didn't want to be part of the discussion on her secret plan.

“A deal with Villa?”

“Yes,” she said. I could never betray the revolution.”

“You didn't tell me?” Daniel said, hurt by her duplicity.

“I couldn't.”

“Did you tell him?” he asked, looking at Harrison.

“Yes,” Maria said. “Daniel, I'm sorry. My plan had to be a secret.”

“But Harry?”

“I forced her to,” Harrison added, returning with an arm full of wood. “I discovered the plan by accident,” he lied. He began to build a fire, carefully stacking the wood. Then he struck a match to the kindling.

“Now, it is good that I did, or all would have been lost. The German would have killed you both.”

“Yes,” was all Daniel said. He reached into the saddlebags, pulling out bundles of one hundred dollar bills. He held one up to examine closely in the light of the fire. The heat from its flames was just beginning to touch them. The dry wood crackled and popped as it ignited.

James knew she was right. They would have shot both of us as spies, he thought.

Maria lay down beside Harrison near the fire. He continued to feed small twigs and bark into the flames. She lay her head on his saddle.

“Harry, I want to tell you something,” she said softly, rubbing his back gently with her hand.

“Yes, my love,” he replied. “What is it?”

“I won't steal machine guns, even for General Villa,” Maria said. “Today, I saw that the war cannot go on much longer. Those muchachos, they seemed so young. Younger even than Daniel…. He has run out of soldiers to die for him, I think.”

“Maria,” Harrison said, turning to see her loveliness in the light of the fire. “I love you. You are wise, as well as beautiful.”

She rose up to embrace him.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

The three bought rail passage on the Mexican National Railroad from Durango to Torreón, then to the Villa stronghold of Chihuahua a week later, finally arriving in Juárez as February ended. Maria bought horses and supplies for the ride to Las Palomas and the Washington hacienda.

After days on the trail, the three reserved two rooms in the finest hotel in town, El Palacio del Revolución, before the final ride home. One room was for Harrison and Maria. Daniel was trying to accept his sister's love for the white man, and even grudgingly admired him.

“Be good to my sister, gringo,” Daniel said, winking at Maria. “I see you in the morning, and we go home.”

“Hermano, stay out of trouble,” Maria said sternly. “And no gambling.”

When they had retired to their room, Harrison immediately saw that it was more spacious and better furnished than the rooms he'd had in Columbus. There was even a vanity. Maria had undressed quickly and slid into bed beneath silk sheets, exhausted. She watched as Harrison paced slowly around the room, deep in thought. “What is it, my love?”

He looked at her from across the room. “Maria, I have business here in El Paso that I must attend to.

She immediately sat up, her breasts exposed above the sheets. “What kind of business?”

“An old acquaintance. A man who I think has information.”

He turned for the door. “I'm sorry, my love, but I must go.”

“Go then,” she said sadly. “Wait.” Naked, she got out of bed and tip-toed across the room.

James could only stand there watching her, drowning in her perfect beauty.

She threw her arms around him, and kissed him passionately on the lips.

“Come back soon, mi corazon.”

Harrison opened the door and left, knowing that if he looked back, he wouldn't go.

Maria lay fully awake in their bed, worrying about her gringo.

*

Harrison found Daniel gambling in the casino below. “Here Harry, deals are made and the most beautiful women in Mexico are found,” Daniel told him, obviously excited. Harrison, looking around, saw Mexican soldiers, rich ranchers, and Americans at the gaming tables. Much like European casinos, he thought. The perfect place to buy and sell anything.

Harrison watched the flow of the crowd closely, looking for Smith. Two hours later, sitting at a table playing high stakes poker, flanked by Mexicans and Americans, Harrison noticed a man standing to one side. “I fold,” he said. He gathered up his winnings, stood, and walked over to the man.

“Jackson Smith? So it is you,” Harrison said.

The man was visibly startled upon being recognized. Finally he spoke. “Harrison James. How are you, old boy?” The two men shook hands.

“I heard you were across the border in El Paso, Mr. Smith, working with the U. S. Army? Is that right?”

“That's correct,” Smith answered. At El Paso Feed and Grain, we do business with the army and with ranchers. Just came down here for some leisure time. You know how it is, don't you, Mr. James?” Smith said. He looked strained. “Sorry about your brother. A real tragedy, that. Suicide, I heard.”

“How did you hear about it?” Harrison asked him.

“I read it in the paper.”

“Does your business take you to that army camp over by Columbus?” Harrison asked.

Smith hesitated. “I've been there. I still do business with the Regiments left there.”

“What do you sell to them, Mr. Smith?”

“Grain for their horses, mostly,” Smith replied. “Not the same type of work that I did when I worked for Randolph James. Much more like your work, I imagine. Still brokering commodities, Mr. James?”

“I gave that up,” Harrison responded. “Now I'm investigating the murder of my brother.”

“The murder?” Smith said, beginning to edge away. “I have to go, Mr. James. Someone waiting for me. You know how that is.”

“Sorry to hear about your warehouse,” Harrison said before Smith could move. “I heard it was arson.” He leaned closer. “I also heard you're doing business with the Mexican government. Running the embargo and selling arms…. That sort of thing.”

Smith stopped immediately. “Who told you that?” he whispered.

“I've gotten to know some of your associates, Smith. They say you sell thousands of dollars worth of munitions to Mexico—to the government, to Villa. Whoever can pay.”

“My associates?”

“It's best if I don't give out their names. I'm sure you understand,” Harrison told him.

“Of course,” Smith said, staring hypnotized at Harrison, as if he were a snake.

“I've also heard you've built quite a reputation for yourself down here.”

“Listen, Mr. James. I may have shipped a couple of items across the border. You can't fault a man for picking up some quick cash, can you?”

“I think the word is smuggling,” Harrison told him.

“News travels fast out here, doesn't it?” Smith replied, absently placing a bet.

Harrison sipped at his whisky. It burned. Cheap, he thought.

“Mr. James, I heard Maria Washington shipped a cargo of Japanese guns from Asia, ran the blockade, and delivered them to the Germans at Guaymas. They also call that smuggling. But then, it all depends which side of the border you live on, doesn't it?” Smith lost, and a younger Mexican collected his chips.

“Yes. And no,” Harrison said thoughtfully. “Take yourself for instance. If your friends across the border found out that you were identified by your enemies on this side of the border, you might find yourself in a bad spot, one that could cost you dearly. Somebody without a friend on either side of the border.” He leaned closer still. “And Smith? I think that's already happened.”

“The Washingtons are smugglers and murderers. And you're mixed up in it,” Smith hissed. He started walking away.

“Wait,” Harrison said. “I have to ask you something.”

“Yes?” Smith said, reluctantly turning back to face James.

“Do you think you'll live long enough to see how it all comes out?”

Smith said nothing.

“What did you and Bart talk about when you met him in El Paso? That day just before he died.”

“I'm a businessman,” Smith said. He was sweating. “I don't know what you're talking about.”

“You didn't see my brother?” Harrison pressed.

“No, Mr. James, I did not,” Smith answered. Again he turned to leave. “If you'll excuse me?”

“You're a liar, Smith. Tell me what I want to know, or I'll tell somebody what you're really up to.” Harrison had the other man's arm, pressing tight.

“I don't think you're in any position to have me arrested.” Smith tried to pull free, but couldn't.

“One telegram, Smith—that's all it will take. And I didn't say anything about telling the Army.”

Smith looked around. He swallowed hard. “Not here. Let's go over to that corner table, pretend like we're gambling.”

They walked over to a roulette table and placed bets.

“We met,” Smith admitted. “I needed cash and your brother gave it to me in exchange for some information.”

“What did you tell him?”

“I told him about a soldier I saw meeting with a German agent here in El Paso. I saw them meet twice last spring after the army gave up on chasing Pancho Villa.”

“Why do you think one was a German agent?”

“I knew him. Felix Sommerfield, the reporter. I was told by Villa's brother that he betrayed Villa to German intelligence. I heard later he was on the payroll of a German colonel named Von Moltke.”

“How did you know the soldier was spying?” Harrison was still skeptical. “He wouldn't exactly wear a uniform.”

“Earlier that day, I saw the same man in officer's uniform at the Sheldon Hotel. Where I stay. So after he met Sommerfield, I had him followed for several days.”

“And?”

“My man followed him to Camp Furlong. I found out he was an officer in one of the Negro companies that rioted in Houston last summer.”

“Why did you tell Bart?”

“I'm a businessman, Mr. James. Not a traitor,” Smith said. “And I needed the money. I knew Bart would have it.”

“Does the officer have a name?”

“I don't know it,” Smith replied. “Maybe your brother figured it out, checked the dates I gave him against their duty rosters or something.”

“Give me those dates, Smith,” Harrison said.

“May 28, June 18, and I saw him the last time on January 27.”

“Why do you do it?” Harrison asked, genuinely curious.

“For the money,” he said easily, then walked away into the crowd.

“I suggest you get out of El Paso real fast, Smith. Or whatever your name is,” Harrison said louder than he had wanted, then watched him disappear deeper into the smoke filled room.

Harrison smiled grimly, and strolled back to the table where Daniel was gambling. Duty rosters, he thought. How do I get Snow to assist me? Or maybe Snow is the traitor?

*

Before riding out of town the next morning, Harrison located a Sunday edition of the
El Paso Sun.
The front page headline caught his attention: “German Officer summarily executed by Villa. German and Mexican governments outraged, threaten retaliation.” Maria will like this, he thought, reading the article while waiting for her and Daniel.

Casually glancing through the paper, the first American newspaper he had read in weeks, he saw an advertisement. “Good weapons for sale,” it exclaimed in bold print.

When the other two arrived leading horses, Harrison showed Daniel the advertisement. “Is this another competitor?” he asked.

Daniel read the address out loud, smiled, and looked at him. “No longer, Harry. The army put him out of business. Now, he sells only to Americans.” He prepared to mount. “Hunting rifles and revolvers for shooting rats.”

“When he was selling to the Mexicans, where did he buy his weapons?” Harrison was curious.

“He stole most of them from the army,” Maria answered, laughing. “That's how they caught him.”

“Where do others get their arms?”

“You mean your friend from last night?”

“Yes. My friend.”

“He probably has contracts with the U.S. Army,” Daniel said. “You should know, Harry. Men like him work with the gunmakers in el Norte. A hundred rifles here or there. Who cares?”

“Should I?” James responded, trying to put the pieces together.

“They are rich white men, like yourself,” Daniel said with a smile. “These hombres don't worry about going to jail. Their rich friends fix everything.”

“I think you overestimate my own power and influence,” Harrison said dryly.

“Sí, if you wish to believe such things.” Daniel looked at Harrison, then he sighed. “Before the embargo, anyone could buy weapons—good weapons.”

Maria stood in the bright sunshine, paying no attention to them. She lightly stroked the mane of her horse, then inspected the saddle.

“So, how did it work for you and Maria? They met you at the border and made the deal?”

“No, a man in Columbus made the deal for us. Safer that way.”

“A middleman?” James asked. Like Randolph James Commodity Brokers, he suddenly realized, disgusted.

Daniel smiled. “Someone who knows everyone, Harry.”

James mounted his horse next to Maria. Daniel rode behind the two.

“Maria,” James said, waving the newspaper, “Von Moltke is dead.”

“Good, Harry,” she said. “He deserved to die.”

The three spent most of the ride back to the Washington hacienda without talking. The only sound heard was the wind at their backs. The bright sunshine touched James' face. He enjoyed the fragrance of a desert being reborn as they passed through flowering cacti and sage in bloom. The majestic Socorro's towering presence seemed to guard their solitude. Still, watching Maria gallop across a land exploding with color held the greatest beauty in his eyes.

Paris was a lifetime away, and he knew already that he could never return to her as she was. Selling wheat to the hungry for a profit and providing weapons to governments for obliterating their own progeny now seemed not only ugly, but brutally immoral, he thought, now having had the time to consider things. He understood why Maria and Daniel had smuggled guns. He understood their anger and, most importantly perhaps, he saw the pain of a lost birthright that passed from generation to generation. They had acted from a basic need, not only to survive, but to build a better future for their children.

Daniel and he were both riding beside Maria when she suddenly nudged her dark gelding in the flanks. Full of energy, it galloped off, sending up a curl of brown dust to powder the two men. Maria laughed and Harrison resigned himself to watching her fly across the flat landscape ahead of them.

“Let her go, hombre,” Daniel said, smiling.

The riders continued west, the red orange ball of the sun beginning its descent into the southwestern sky.

*

They arrived at the Washington hacienda that same evening. Mr. Jones and José ran excitedly to the gate to greet them. Helping them from their horses, they both were speechless. “You are alive?” Jose asked, hugging Maria and slapping Daniel on the back. “You escape from the German, eh?”

“No German could hold us, amigo,” Daniel bragged

Mr. Jones shook Harrison's hand in a distracted way. He was watching Maria walk toward the hacienda. She had left her horse for the men to tend. The house that had been shuttered and dark began to light up, window by window, as it again came alive.

“We could not get a message through to you,” Harrison told them. “We tried, but the telegraph was down.

“Sí?” José answered. He turned to Daniel. “I cannot believe you are alive, amigo.”

“If it wasn't for the gringo and for my sister, I'd be dead,” Daniel responded, and then turned to James. “Harry, we talk more about the business. I want that you understand,” he said.