Trail Hand (19 page)

“Sure you won’t let me check that mouth for you?” he asked.

My jaw clamped down instinctively and I flinched a little. “No thanks, maybe some other time.”

Later that afternoon Rosa, Chavez, Sonora, and I were waiting next to her buckboard when Miguel emerged from the livery, leading his horse.

“
¡Oye
, Miguel,
ven acá!
” I shouted, calling him over.

He tied his horse to the nearest hitch and crossed the street to join us.

“What’s up?” he asked, smiling.

Rosa was the first to answer him. “My father is riding to town to join us, but he is a little overdue. Would you please ride up into the hills outside of town and watch for him?”

“
Sí, Señorita
Rosa, I’ll leave right away,” he replied, turning toward his horse.

Chavez stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. “Perhaps it would be a good idea to signal us when he is in sight. But…,” he hesitated, “it will be too far for us to hear you shout and a rifle shot might give the
don
the wrong idea. What do you think,
gringo?
”

“You’re right,” I answered. “After all that he’s been through, the last thing
Don
Enrique would want to hear is more rifle fire.” I paused a moment as if deep in thought.

“Wait a minute, I’ve got an idea,” Sonora
chipped in, right on cue. “How about usin’ a mirror?”

“That’s a good idea,” Rosa agreed. “There may be one here in my wagon.”

I rummaged around in the back of the buckboard and pulled out a small piece of mirror that we had planted there earlier. I tossed it over to Miguel. “Here, you can use this to signal us with.”

“
Andale
, Miguel, before it gets too dark,” said Chavez.

It had all happened so quickly Miguel didn’t have time to think things out. He just nodded to us and hurried back to his horse. Just before he reached it, however, I called out to him again.

“
Oye
, Miguel,
un momento
. One more thing.”

He turned around again. “What is it?”

“You sure you know how to send mirror signs?”

“
Por supuesto
…of course, my father taught me. Many in our village use mirrors that way.”

“That how you let the Four Box brand know where our herd was goin’? Is that how you sent them after me,
amigo?
” I stared him right in the eye, and stepped away from the rest, facing him in the middle of the street.

Miguel looked around desperately, but had no cover nearby.

Rosa moved out of the way, back behind her buckboard, while Chavez and the other
vaqueros
on both sides of the street moved to block his escape.

“I never could understand how those rustlers managed to anticipate all our moves without a mistake, and without us knowing,” I said.

“You see, Miguel, they knew Chavez and I always double checked our back trail. They had to stay far enough away so that we’d never pick up their tracks. Hard to follow if you’re that far back. But then they could do it easily enough if they already knew ahead of time where we were going, couldn’t they? A mirror shines light for miles, doesn’t it, Miguel?”

“
¿Como?
You are wrong. It was not me,” he answered nervously.

In the corner of my eye I noticed Pili standing behind the
cantina
doors. Several of the townspeople were lined up along the walk watching us, but none seemed threatening.

“Had to be you,
chico
. Luke Pierce used the town telegraph before we left town. So he already knew all about the drive. Francisco and you were the only ones in town after the drive was planned. Remember, that’s how we met. But you see, the
caporal
and I already know Francisco can’t read mirror sign….”

Miguel’s gun hand dropped slowly to his side.

“Always seemed to me you spent just a little too much time shaving in the morning. I understand now. Good opportunity to use your mirror. I’ll bet Joaquin wouldn’t have appreciated your generous offers to help him shine his pots so much had he known you were also using them to signal with. It got him killed, didn’t it?” I started walking slowly toward him, my right hand down at my side.

“Miguel, you betrayed us just for money?” Francisco shouted from across the street. “Why? Didn’t
Don
Enrique treat us fairly?”

“This is between us two. Stay out of it, Cisco!” I yelled, without once taking my eyes off Miguel.

“You sent them after me, Miguel, didn’t you? Had them bushwhack me from hiding. Why’d you do it?
¿Porqué?
”

“A man needs enough money for his own place. I would never be good enough just working for others.” As he answered, I caught him releasing his holster thong.

“Who gave you that idea, Miguel?” I asked. “Never be good enough for who?”

He never gave me time to find out. Instead, he dropped quickly to one knee, drew, and fired. He was very fast, and the sudden move might have worked had he only waited a touch longer and not jerked his shot so much.

Pa’s words echoed in my ears. “Shootin’ first don’t always cut it. Ya got to hit what you aim at, too. And, Son, don’t trust to one shot, either, you keep shootin’ until the threat is over. Remember, boy, only a fool stands still in a gunfight.”

Miguel had aimed too quickly, firing at the very spot where I had been standing only an instant before. I side-stepped to my left just as he dropped, causing him to lose whatever edge he might have hoped for. My first shot didn’t miss him, though, nor did the next three. Miguel died in the middle of that street, curled into a lifeless ball.

Although I got no satisfaction from what had just happened, there was no remorse this time. It was his call, not mine, and he, like others in the past, had gotten what he deserved.

I holstered the Colt, suddenly feeling very weary, but relieved that the ordeal was finally over. I had fulfilled my promise to Rosa María, and could now begin seriously to consider the possibility of building a future with someone I
cared deeply for. I felt a warm sense of well-being come over me, and was anxious to be with her forever.

Looking off to my left, I saw Rosa standing in her buckboard, facing me with a rifle in her arms. The next thing I knew, something struck me and I was flung forward into the dirt. There was a sharp pain in my chest and I had trouble breathing. Everything seemed to be spinning. I looked up and gasped.

“Rosa. What…?”

The last thing I remember before passing out was seeing her lever another round as she raised the rifle up to her shoulder.

I was content to lie where I was, warm and comfortable. But before long, I began to wonder just exactly where that was. I could detect a faint smell of perfume in the air and heard soft voices nearby that I couldn’t quite identify. It was clear I wasn’t still face down in the street, but, since I didn’t have the strength to sit up, I was forced to lie there, confused. I drifted in and out of sleep. The whole time my body rested, my mind fought for answers.

Over time it slowly came back to me, Miguel, the shoot-out, everything. The sudden realization that I’d been shot caused me to bolt upright. My eyes opened wide but captured nothing but pitch black darkness. My arms stretched out to feel but I couldn’t reach anything, either. I tried to make out where the voices were coming from, what they were saying, or who they belonged to, but couldn’t hear anything clearly enough to be of help.

I fell backward and started sweating profusely. When I tried to roll over, a sharp stabbing pain almost crushed the air from my lungs. I collapsed onto my back, exhausted.

“Where am I? Who’s there?” I tried to yell, but my voice was hoarse and distant, almost unrecognizable. I was so disoriented, I couldn’t even be sure if I was really making any sound.

A door finally opened to my right and light filtered in. A figure moved toward me and then paused. A match was struck and a lamp was lit. The glow hurt my eyes, causing me to swing an arm up over my face.

“Relax. You’re back at our
hacienda
. You’re safe.” It sounded like Rosa’s voice, although right then and there it wouldn’t have been too hard to convince me the words had come from an angel. She took a wet towel from a pan on the table next to the bed, bent over, and wiped my forehead.

“Why, Rosa? What…?”

“Pilar shot you from the
cantina. ¡Desgraciada!
She always was looking for someone rich to take her away from here. Pilar must have promised to go with Miguel if only he got enough money.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Miguel was desperately in love with her and would have done anything she wanted. Pilar must have convinced him to betray us for money. She never was satisfied, that one, always looking for the easy life. Pilar would stop at nothing to get out of this pueblo, even if she had to make a fool of an innocent
vaquero
, or shoot a man in the back. Poor Miguel never had a chance with a she-devil like her.”

“You’re probably right about that,” I said.
Pierce must have recruited her first, and Pilar, in turn, corrupted Miguel over to their side. She must have been the girl who arranged to have the telegraph messages sent to Davies. Miguel would have helped her translate them. What a web! “So, what finally happened to her?” I asked. “Where’s Pili now?”

“Where she belongs,” replied Rosa.

I suddenly recalled watching Rosa swing her rifle in my direction. She must have fired directly across me. “You shot her?” I asked.

She nodded. “She got what she deserved. I did what I had to. Besides,” Rosa said, looking down into my eyes with a smile, “I couldn’t very well let her kill a man who was about to ask me to marry him, could I?”

“I was?” I stammered, taken completely off guard.

She just looked down at me, hard, and frowned.

“I mean, I am!” I said a little more convincingly. She smiled, bent down, and kissed me softly.

“
Duermate, mi amor
. Sleep.” Rosa blew out the lamp and left the room, closing the door quietly after her.

My Navy Colt and holster hung from the bedpost, with my Henry rifle propped up in the far corner. The room was peaceful and quiet, and that night I went to sleep one painful but very contented
hombre
.

R. W. Stone
inherited his love for Western adventure from his father, a former Army Air Corps armaments officer and horse enthusiast. He taught his son both to ride and shoot at a very early age. Many of those who grew up in the late 1950s and early 1960s remember it as a time before urban sprawl when Western adventure predominated both television and the cinema, and Stone began writing later in life in an attempt to recapture some of that past spirit he had enjoyed as a youth. In 1974 Stone graduated from the University of Illinois with honors in Animal Science. After living in Mexico for five years, he later graduated from the National Autonomous University’s College of Veterinary Medicine and moved to Florida. Over the years he has served as President of the South Florida Veterinary Medical Association, the Lake County Veterinary Medical Association, and as executive secretary for three national veterinary organizations. Dr. Stone is currently the Chief of Staff of the Veterinary Trauma Center of Groveland, an advanced level care facility. He is the author of over seventy scientific articles and has lectured internationally. Still a firearms collector, horse enthusiast, and now a black-belt-ranked martial artist, R. W.
Stone presently lives in Central Florida with his wife, two daughters, one horse, and three dogs. He is presently working on his next western,
Vengeance Is Mine
.