Nate Coffin's Revenge (21 page)

Stood, said, “Yeah,” and ducked again. More shots punched death-dealing holes above me. Hopped up, squared off, and kicked hell out of the board panel an inch or so right of the latch, and stepped inside. Dreadful sight I beheld damned near made me sick. Thought for a second I might puke my spurs up.

Lanky feller, all dressed in black, stood beside a filthy, broken-down bed and was locked in a single-minded attempt to reload his weapon. Those efforts stopped as soon as I flicked the muzzle of the shotgun his direction. He dropped the pistol, raised his hands, and stepped backward until the wall behind stopped his progress.

Tied to the sagging cot’s iron frame lay the body of a stark naked and unconscious woman I barely recognized. Covered in filth, smeared blood, and God only knows what else, she appeared to have been beaten from the soles of her feet to her hairline. A swollen, bruised face sported blackened, closed eyes, a still-bleeding nose, and cut lips.

The sight of Dianna in such a state caused a rage in me unlike any I’d ever experienced.

16

“. . . THERE’S GONNA BE HELL TO PAY.”

STOOD BY THAT filthy bed, and for nigh on five seconds, I do believe my brain numbed up and went into some kind of seizure. Couldn’t move. Couldn’t think. Nothing left inside me but red-eyed fury. Wanted to storm Hell and bite Satan’s horns off. Then, honest to God, it felt as though something inside my skull snapped like a rotten tree limb.

Snatched a grimy coverlet from a broke-backed chair and threw it over her nude, motionless body. Bent over and whispered in a blood-encrusted ear, “It’s Lucius, Dianna. I’ve come for you. You gotta hold on now, darlin’. Get you out of here quick as I can.”

Took every fiber of my being not to burst into torrents of hot, salty tears. Steadied my nerves, stood, and faced the man in black. Right sure he didn’t have any doubt his life was on the line.

Lifted the shotgun so the muzzle pointed at his crotch. “Your name Bejarano?” I asked.

“No, sir. Oh, hell, no. That gutless son of a bitch skipped out yesterday. Left me and them boys downstairs to deal with any problems.”

“Problems? You mean like me and my friends?”

“Swear ’fore Jesus, mister, we didn’t have no idea gunfightin’ fellers of yore caliber might show up. Alfonso said we could drink all we wanted, eat all we wanted, have some fun, or make use of the woman if ’n we wanted.”

“Make use of her? What the hell does that mean?”

“Well, think everyone here humped her a time or two, but she ain’t been worth much since Alfonso beat the blue-eyed hell out of her. Just kinda lays there. Ain’t a bit of fun. Kinda like screwin’ a dead stump.”

Almost sent him to Satan right when those reckless words fell from his filthy mouth. Couldn’t believe any man living could be that stupid. He’d just heard me speak to Dianna. Watched and listened as I tried to comfort her.

Right testylike I snapped, “You know why I’m here?”

“Ain’t got a single idea, mister. Don’t care, not even one whit. Hell, I’m just a workin’ man tryin’ to make a dollar. Your life’s labor don’t interest me in the least. Sure you understand, don’t you?”

Fished the badge out of my vest pocket and pinned it back on my chest. Gunny’s eyes got big as saucers. “Now wait a minute, Ranger,” he whimpered. “Didn’t have no idea you wuz a full-blown Texas lawdog when I started shootin’. Just doin’ as I’d been told by the
jefe
.”

“I came for the woman. She’s the only reason you’re still alive and I’m talkin’ to you right now.”

Trembling lips stretched and revealed rotten teeth. Could hear the cracks in his voice when he whined, “Gotta believe me. Swear on my mother’s grave, I got nothin’ to do with the way she looks. Bastard Alfonso done all that. Said he’d been paid a handsome price to ruin her by some feller name of Coffin. Said this Coffin wanted him to make it so no man would ever look at her again.”

My voice must have sounded about as sharp as a well-stropped razor when I said, “You or any of your friends downstairs try to stop ’im? Do anything to keep what I see here from happenin’?”

He blinked like I’d slapped him. “W-w-we had no say a’tall in the matter. Swear to God, Ranger, w-w-we ’uz just carryin’ out orders.”

“That include everyone here takin’ a turn at rapin’ this poor, defenseless girl?”

Dumb bastard tried to make it sound like we were old friends. Got all personal-like. “Well, now, that didn’t amount to any more’n an added benefit, as you might say. Just somethin’ extra to enhance some pretty poor pay.”

Couldn’t believe the nervy son of a bitch. Spoke to me like I should understand, and then grinned real big right in my face.

That’s when I dropped the shotgun’s hammer. Peppered him all the way from knee to crotch. Thunderous blast picked the worthless piece of scum up, threw his flopping body against the wall. Splattered most of his privates all over Hell and yonder. He slid to the floor in a bloody, twitching heap. Didn’t kill him, but sure as hell came close. Knocked the son of a bitch stone-cold unconscious for a bit.

As I worked at wrapping a limp, battered Dianna in the ratty coverlet, he came back around, grabbed at the spot where his missing equipment once resided, and screamed like a panther with a red-hot poker up its butt. Never had heard such a pitiable sound come out of a living man’s mouth. Kind of shrieking screech had the power to pull tears out of a sideshow freak’s glass eye.

Within a matter of seconds, footfalls thundered up the stairway. Boz burst in ready for a fight, and glanced around the room. Motioned for him to give me some help. We worked together, and eventually got Dianna into a sitting position on the edge of the bed. From there, I lifted the shattered girl into my good friend’s arms.

Grabbed his elbow and fixed him in my best hardcase lawdog gaze. “Get her out of this hellhole, Boz. Want you and Ox to head for the river as fast as you can hoof it. Don’t look back. Cross over quick as you can. Take her straight to the nearest doctor. I’ll finish up here, follow, and cover your rear. Find you when I’m done.”

“Damn, Lucius, we ain’t gonna leave you in this place alone. Soon’s word gets around that a bunch of murderin’ gringos just come to town and kilt some local boys, there’s gonna be hell to pay. Should be happenin’ pretty quick.”

“We don’t have time to debate this, Boz. You gotta do as I say. Take Dianna and get to Laredo. She needs professional medical attention in the worst kinda way. Get movin’. Do it now.”

He frowned, and then shook his head. Said, “All right. I’m goin’. Don’t like it much, my friend, but I’m goin’.”

Kissed Dianna on the forehead. Doubt she heard me when I whispered, “Boz’ll take care of you, darlin’. I’ll be comin’ along shortly.” Slapped my amigo on the shoulder and pushed him toward the door.

“You watch yourself, Lucius. Anything happens to you, I’ll come back and kill you myself.” He grinned; then they disappeared down the smoke-filled hallway.

With a load of guilt on my shoulders the size of a Mississippi riverboat, I kneeled beside the wounded gunman and rolled a cigarette. Screeching pain had turned into something akin to mute shock. He stared blank-eyed at the ceiling, moaned pitifully, and trembled all over.

Knew beyond any doubt the poor bastard was well on the way to bleeding out right where he fell. From the pasty-white appearance of his face, I figured he had but a few agonizing minutes left amongst the living—at the outside.

Leaned over and stuck the burning cigarette between his twitching lips. He took part of a puff. Went on a hacking, coughing rip, and spit the smoking butt onto his wet, sticky, wine-colored lap.

“Well, cowboy, you’ve branded your last calf, had your final glass of liquor, danced your last jig, and abused your very last woman. ’Fore you wake up shoveling coal in Satan’s soul-sizzlin’ furnaces, I want you to tell me where Bejarano lives. Maybe do a little toward redeemin’ yourself for past sins.”

Wild tormented eyes flicked up at me. Barely heard him gasp, “You can go straight to a burnin’ Hell yourself.”

Pulled a pistol and cocked it. “Tell me what I want to know and I’ll help you on over to the other side. Put you out of your misery. Carry on with this stupid act, and you’re gonna keep sufferin’ somethin’ awful. Slap bleed to death right where you sit. That could take several more hours of merciless agony.”

Hell, I knew it was a bald-faced lie. He was already dead. Just hadn’t figured it out yet. Personally, I couldn’t have cared less about his situation. Belly-slinkin’ snake had information I wanted.

Rheumy, bloodshot eyes rubbered around in a lolling head that appeared as though attached to his body with a piece of limp rawhide. Had to slap him back awake at least twice. Never cared for beating on a man so near death, but I began to fear he wouldn’t stay alive long enough to provide me with some much-needed information.

Finally had to smack him real good and hard. All at once, he got clearheaded. In a bloody gasp, he shot back, “Go ahead and end it, you badge-wearin’ bastard. Likes of you been tryin’ to kill me ever since I turned twelve years old. Year I kilt Ma and Pa. Might as well git this dance over with and done.” Then he made a frothy, liquid-saturated, strangling noise, groaned, and passed out again.

Grabbed a pitcher of questionable-looking water from the only table in the room, snatched his hat off, and poured the entire jug over his sweat-saturated head. Shock snapped him away from death’s doorstep one final time.

Grabbed his bloody shirtfront and shook him. “Gonna keep bringin’ you back to life till you tell me where Bejarano lives.”

“Not sure.” Sounded like a man on his way to the bottom of a well when he stuttered out, “Stays on American side. Safer for . . . his . . . family. Biggest . . . house . . . in Laredo. See it from . . . this side. Bright . . . red roof. Can’t miss . . .”

He made a kind of huffing sound. Spit up a handful of blood. Startled eyes rolled up into the back of his head. Then he flopped into a gory, tub-sized pool that spread across the nasty floor toward the toes of my boots.

Holstered my pistol and grabbed the shotgun. Checked the loads and headed for the stairs at a trot. Got to the landing on the first floor and surveyed the destruction we’d wrought.

God above, but we’d made one hell of a mess that day. Couple of them Mexican boys as we shot in our initial assault died right where they fell. Them who managed to live were being attended by a swarming group of excited, chattering women who’d fogged into the cantina after Boz took off.

One of those angry
mujers
spotted me. As if on signal, they all went to pointing my direction and hollering in Spanish. Couldn’t understand much of what got said, but it sounded a lot like swear words.

Backed my way out the batwing doors. Shouts, jeering, curses, and flying debris followed. My friends had left Grizz tied near the Yellow Flower’s entrance. Animal snorted when I jumped aboard. Appeared to me as though he wanted away from all the noise and destruction of that border cantina as quick as I could make it happen.

Kicked for the first street that headed toward the river. Hadn’t quite turned the corner when the shooting started again. Just a few potshots here and there at first. Glanced over my shoulder and spied half a dozen uniformed
federales
hoofin’ it my direction. Mexican
soldados
fired as they ran. Bullets peppered the dirt, chinked the adobe walls of the buildings closest to me, and gouged holes in wooden porches and trim. One slug put a crease along Grizz’s rump and set him to rearing.

Jumped off and led the skittish animal to cover around a corner, then returned fire. Not my intention to kill any Mexican lawmen if I could help it. But I knew they wouldn’t quit coming unless I gave them something serious to think on.

As best I could, retreated toward the Rio Grande and safety. Kept Grizz close and maintained a constant barrage of return fire. Whole dance got pretty hairy along the way. Angry Mexican folks even went to chuckin’ garbage at me from above when I took shelter under their balconies.

Intense, door-to-door, running gun battle lasted almost a quarter of a mile. Finally, had to gamble some. Jumped back on Grizz, kicked hard for the water, and the hoped-for safety on the other side. A hailstorm of blue whistlers cut through the air. Hot lead fell all around, so thick I’m still amazed me and the horse made the riverbank alive.

Dropped off into some thick bushes hard by the river’s edge. Decided if I wanted to stay alive, was gonna have to get serious about driving my pursuers away. Pulled my rifle, shotgun, and three full cartridge belts of ammunition. Set Grizz loose and watched him pick his way down the tree-and scrub-covered slope to the water’s slow-moving edge. Knew he wouldn’t wander far.

Found a nice spot of cover at the base of some cotton-woods. Waited until some of those Mexican fellers came into the open area between Nuevo Laredo’s first group of adobes and my hidey-hole. Got a clear shot. Put two of them down right quick. Had the exact effect I wanted. Whole whooping, hollering bunch dragged their wounded friends away and retreated back into the safety of the village.

For about three hours—till just before dark anyway—we traded shots here and there. Time or two, a feller on their side of the dispute would get nervy and start hotfooting it my direction. But none ever got very close. I’d put a nick or two in them as ventured into the open. Then some of their friends would come out and drag them back.

Third or fourth time it happened, struck me as kind of funny. Guess they heard me laughing. Must have made them boys madder than a nest of those monstrous, orange-colored Mexican hornets. They poured a curtain of hot lead in on me, but never did hit anything.

’Bout the time night came down like thunder, spotted someone swimming a horse from the American side of the river. Got close enough, and I could tell it was Boz. He and his pony came up on the muddy bank right beside Grizz.