Wild, page 5
“Fair enough.”
Part Four
Journeys with Jacoby, Vol. I, Chapter III.
Published 1890, by Juan Vargas:
Tom and Matt untethered Steve and Lee’s horses while I gathered up the rest of the guns. I tied the bundle of weapons to the back of Tom’s saddle, climbed up behind Matt, and we were halfway back to Mesilla before Fancy Jim’s dust had begun to settle. Five minutes later, we were back at the inn.
“Go find the owner,” Matt told me, and I headed inside while he and Tom went to the stable. He was behind the bar, wiping down the dark, polished wood, and said nothing when I invited him outside. Matt and Tom had already brought out their horses and my own; the two we’d rode in on were tethered nearby, and Kurt’s black horse was still stabled.
“I have a couple of extra horses, not counting the black one we brought with us. I need you to hold him until we come back.” Matt said to the innkeeper when I brought him out. “Don’t suppose these two’d make up for what we owe you?” Matt offered him the reins to Steve and Lee’s horses. The innkeeper thought for a moment, then nodded. He whistled for one of his sons, gave him instructions, shook hands with Matt, then went back inside. I made sure my saddle and gear were tied securely and swung atop my horse. A moment later, I led the way to Camino Real.
“At least we know one thing,” Matt said, pulling his horse up beside mine after a few minutes on the trail. “You were right about the dirt.” He’d stopped briefly on the side of the trail and scooped up a handful. He sifted the red earth through his fingers as we spoke.
“Si. The mud we found is probably from when they watered their horses and washed up. That’s where I remember it from.”
“What can we expect in Las Cruces?” he asked me.
It didn’t take long to tell him. Las Cruces was small, not even three thousand people, and functioned primarily as a trading post and college town. They had a railroad depot, built twelve or so years before, the usual inns and shops, a small, agricultural college and a bank. There were a few ranches and not much else.
“Sounds like a great place to hole up if you’ve kidnapped someone,” Matt said.
“Yeah, I’ve hid there a few times myself,” Tom agreed. “The Organ Mountains are damned inhospitable unless you have a good reason to be there.”
“Well, let’s start at the local watering hole,” Matt said as we reached the town. “I’m sure you know someone, right?”
Tom grinned. “Of course I do.”
The inn was dim and dusty, and packed mostly with tired-looking ranch hands. More than a few of them were Mexican, and I looked around for someone I knew while Tom went into a corner to chat up a garishly painted whore who was decorating a scruffy-bearded man’s lap.
“Buenos dias, Sargento Vargas,” someone said behind me, clapping a hand on my shoulder. I whirled around. A tall, muscular Mexican man smiled down at me.
“Jesus!” I grasped him roughly, and he squeezed me until I gasped for air. “This is my friend, Jesus, from the Army,” I said to Matt. “Jesus, this is my boss, Señor Jacoby. I’m helping him with some business. We’re looking for someone.”
“If there’s anything I can do, you should ask,” Jesus said. “Sargento Vargas saved my life, and any friend of his is a friend of mine.” I looked at Matt and he nodded back.
“You won’t believe this, amigo, but we’re looking for a hechicero,” I told him. His eyes widened. “Can you tell us if anything strange has happened around here?”
“Actually, I can think of one thing, amigo, but I’ll have to take you to someone. My own life has been pretty boring lately. I’m a cowboy, now. Not as much shooting or bad guys.” Jesus looked around for a moment and nodded. “Follow me.”
He headed to the bar first, ordered four mugs of tesquino and led us to a table on the far side of the room. A few ranch hands sat there, smoking, and sipping their drinks. Jesus passed Matt and I two of the mugs and slid a third in front of one of the men.
“Miguel,” he said to the man, “these men are friends. Tell them about the bulls.”
“Vamanos,” Miguel said, waving his hand at his friends. Matt, Jesus, and I filled in their seats. Miguel looked around the room, eyes darting back and forth before finally resting on us.
“Don’t be nervous,” Matt said. “Whatever you saw can’t be worse than the walking bodies we’ve been gunning down all week.”
“He can take your soul,” Miguel whispered.
“Look, I’m sure you think you have a good reason to be scared, but there’s nothing wrong with this magician that a bullet in the head can’t fix,” Matt said. “I’m looking for a missing man and his child, and I think the trail ends here, in Las Cruces.”
“Alright, señor.” Miguel sighed. “He came to my boss’ ranch about ten days ago. Bought two bulls. My boss made him pay through his culo.” I chuckled at that, and Miguel relaxed a bit and sipped his beer. “But he paid without complaint, even though it was twice what my boss would have charged an honest man.”
“Okay,” Matt said. “What makes him so special, though? He’s rich and he wanted some cows.”
“He was short, and his face was painted yellow and black. He wore a rough brown cloak, and a necklace of shiny black stones. I only saw him for a moment, when I brought the animals out of the barn. He had four servants with him. Two of them smelled rotten, and I could see their teeth through their cheeks.”
“That’s our guy. You’re the only person who’s seen his face,” Matt said. “Remember what Oliver said, Juan? About the mask? But Oliver and Miguel here both remembered the obsidian necklace, and I remember him being pretty short when I shot at him earlier tonight.” I nodded, and Matt continued. “The only thing I don’t understand is why an Aztec priest is this far north.”
“Aztec?” I asked.
“You ever hear anything about Tezcatlipoca, Miguel?”
“No, señor,” the ranch hand replied.
“Go grab Tom,” Matt said. “And more beer.”
I dragged Tom away from his friends, and returned to the table with the outlaw and five brimming mugs of tesquino.
“Hey, I was onto something,” Tom said, dragging a chair over from a nearby table. “Guy was a little goofy, but he said something about a man with a painted face coming to his farm to buy chickens this morning. Had a couple of dead guys with him.”
“This gentleman saw him too,” Matt said, nodding towards Miguel. “I think I know a little more about him now. Between the descriptions given by Lee Oliver and our friend here, I’d wager to say our hechicero is a priest of Tezcatlipoca.”
“What the hell is Tezkapolka?” Tom asked.
“He’s an ancient Aztec god. Real nice guy; had names like, ‘We Are His Slaves’ and, ‘Enemy of Both Sides.’ Our friend the corpse-jockey dresses himself the way a priest of this god probably would have. Assuming Tezcatlipoca really exists, he could certainly raise the dead.”
“And you’re wondering why he’s this far north?” I asked.
“Sure am,” Matt said. “Aztecs have pretty much been gone for a few hundred years, but I can buy a pocket of ancient worship still existing here and there. They never lived this close to the border though, so I’m wondering why an Aztec priest would have an ax to grind with an American war hero.”
“Well, I’ll be sure to ask him before I put a hole in his head, pardner,” Tom said, rising from his chair and pounding his mug of tesquino. “Where’d you say he wandered off to?”
“Up into the mountains,” the farmhand said. “A couple of the mountains are redder than the others, with more trees on top. If I was him, I’d have a camp up there. I used to play in the valley on the other side. There’s a narrow pass he could get the bulls through, and plenty of grazing in the valley.”
“Looks like we have him narrowed down, then,” Matt said. He dug a handful of coins from his pocket and folded them into Miguel’s hand. “Have a few more drinks on me,” he said.
I shook hands with him as I passed by.
“Buenas suerte,” he whispered.
Jesus agreed to take our horses back to his ranch and bring them to the foot of the mountains when he saw our signal fire. We grabbed our packs and weapons and hiked out of town, into the Organ Mountains. It was nearly dark.
“Keep your eyes open,” Matt said as we began climbing. “The wizard has the advantage here, and if he can raise the dead, who knows what else is waiting for us.”
“Strange how you seem so comfortable with the idea of magic, pardner,” Tom said. “Where’d you say you’re from again?”
“I didn’t,” Matt said.
I had to admit, I was wondering the same thing myself. I trusted him though; much more than I trusted Tom, and we knew plenty about him.
After an hour’s gentle climb up the side of the mountain Miguel had described, we reached the pass he mentioned. We didn’t make it far down the trail before we had to stop, however; the path was blocked with a towering heap of blackened boulders.
“Sonofabitch made a damn rock slide after he got the animals through,” Matt said. “Good thinking, leaving the horses with your friend.” We went back the way we came and climbed up the side of the mountain. We paused at the top. It was covered in rough, hardy green bushes and tall, thick weeds. We dropped to our hands and knees and crawled until we were overlooking the valley on the other side. It was dark, and we saw several flickering campfires, and a few small tents clustered around a large one.
“Stay close,” Matt said, and began edging down the other side with a revolver in one hand. I drew my pistol and followed suit. Behind me, Tom grumbled as he slid down on his backside, cradling the shotgun we’d taken from Oliver’s men. We made it halfway down when we heard low noises; whispering and moaning. Matt raised his arm and halted behind a large rock. I held my breath, waiting. The noises grew closer, and I heard boots crunching on the rocks.
Several leather-clad men in thick, carved wooden masks slipped from the thick bushes at the edge of the valley and crept closer, carrying bows and knives. Matt and I slowly braced our weapons atop the rocks we crouched behind. The masked men grew closer, and Tom rose up, shouldered the shotgun and blasted the lead man in the face. The blast rang in my ears, nearly drowning out the screams of the other men, who sprinted up the mountain towards the flash of the gun.
“Spread out and run,” Matt yelled, drawing his other revolver and firing as he scrambled towards the valley.
I ran towards the nearest attacker and fired twice. He fell, and I stepped on his heaving chest as my momentum carried me down the side of the mountain. Another man closed in on my right flank, and I fired wildly. He ducked; my shot missed, but I gained distance and dove into the scrub at the foot of the mountain. I rolled three times before coming to my knees, and I looked around. I saw neither Tom nor Matt, but I heard their guns and saw a muzzle flash in the darkness. I rose to my feet and ran towards the camp. The guards were most likely at the mountain, looking for us, and the colonel was probably tied up in the large tent with one or two keepers.
I reached the edge of the clearing and looked around. There was no one in sight. I sprinted for the large tent. Then something crashed into the side of my head, and everything went black.
* * * *
I woke up in one of the small tents. A flap was open and light from a nearby fire flickered inside. My hands and feet were bound with thick rope and I couldn’t feel the weight of my gun belt. I heard voices nearby. My head throbbed as I rose to my knees and scooted closer to the tent opening. Two dark-skinned natives knelt on the ground, speaking a language I’d never heard before. One of them gestured towards what was probably the direction of the mountains. The other pointed towards my tent and then at another. So, either Tom or Matt had been captured as well, and the other was still loose. Or dead. I hoped it wasn’t the latter, even if it was Tom. Whoever of us was still loose was probably the only one with a gun.
A loud bell rang in the distance, and my captors rose to their feet. One took off toward the sound of the bell, and the other, in my direction. I threw myself backwards into my original position and faked sleep. I heard the man rustle the tent flap and grunt to himself, and the crunch of rocks beneath his feet on his way to join his amigo. When I was sure he was gone, I opened my eyes and looked around the tent. It was empty, except for dirt and rocks. The largest rock had a dull edge, and I used it to saw through the ropes on my hands. It took a while, but by the time I’d freed my feet and crawled to the tent opening to look around, there was still no one in sight.
I tucked a length of rope into my pocket and grabbed the large rock for a weapon, and slunk outside. The backside of my tent faced the large one I had seen earlier. Two guards stood outside it, facing a great fire in the distance. Their backs were to the large tent, and to me, but they had knives on their belts and the crowd at the fire was within earshot. I needed to find Matt or Tom first. I crept off in the direction the second of my captors had pointed. There were no guards outside that tent, either, and when I looked inside there was Matt, curled up in the dirt, snoring.
“Matt,” I said. He didn’t answer, and I slapped him hard across the face. He woke with a grunt, and if his hands hadn’t been tied, he probably would have punched me. I gave him a moment to get his bearing, and then untied him.
“Where’s Tom?” he asked, rubbing his wrists and ankles.
“No sign of him,” I said. “I think he’s still free. If he’s not dead.”
“I hope he isn’t dead, because I sure don’t have any more guns,” Matt said, patting his waist.
“The good news is I only saw two guards. There were two more watching me, but someone rang a bell and they walked off. The others I saw were outside the big tent. That’s where I’d keep the colonel, if I were them.”
“Only two, huh?” he said. “Cocky bastards, though I guess I’d be confident, too, if my boss could do magic.” He rose to his feet and stretched. “Let’s go beat those guys up and see what’s inside that tent.”
I handed Matt my rock and took the rope from my pocket as we eased towards the large tent. The two men were still watching the fire in the distance. I heard drumming and chanting coming from the fire now, and the guards muttered under their breath, as well. I pulled the rope taut between my hands and wrapped it around one man’s neck while Matt smashed the rock down on the other’s head. His man fell silently to the ground, and mine, after clawing at the rope for a moment, dropped to his knees and passed out. Matt knocked him upside the skull for good measure.
The large tent’s opening was tied shut from the outside, and we pressed our ears up against the thick leather for a moment. When we heard nothing inside, Matt untied the flap and poked his head in, then pulled the flap open. There was no one inside. Two rough, wooden tables were against one wall, piled with bread, cheese, skins of water, and our guns. The ground was scuffed in places. I ran to the table and strapped on my gun belt. When I handed Matt his weapons, he was kneeling beside the larger patch of scuffed dirt.
“The colonel was tied up here,” he said, “and the boy, over there. The colonel is hurt.” He pointed at a dark spot in the dirt.
“Blood?” I asked. Matt nodded, and rose to his feet.
“I think we can still hold out hope for Señor Tom,” I said, gesturing toward the table. “His weapons weren’t with ours.” I stuffed my cheeks with bread and cheese and swallowed it down with water. Matt did the same.
“Our hechicero must be putting on a show,” Matt said when he was done eating. “That’s the only thing that explains that big campfire, the colonel and the boy being taken from the tent, and the lack of manpower left behind to watch us.”
“We need to bring our opponents inside and tie them up,” I said. We dragged them in, bound and gagged them with strips of their own clothing, and headed outside, towards the large fire in the distance. The drumming and chanting had grown faster and louder while we were inside. When we were close enough to distinguish the shapes of the men seated around the fire, swaying and beating drums, we dropped to our hands and knees and began crawling.
“Freeze,” someone whispered as we crawled closer to the fire. A gun cocked, and I saw metal poking out of a nearby bush.
“Tom?” Matt called, rolling to one side and aiming a revolver at the bush.
“Oh, it’s you,” the outlaw said, peering out from the scrub. His eyes darted nervously as he put down the gun and crawled over to us. “I thought you were done for.”
“You could have looked for us,” I said.
Tom started to say something, but Matt waved his hand and the outlaw fell silent.
“The wizard’s posse is all over,” Matt said. “Probably the colonel and the kid, too. Keep close, like before. We should be able to get right on top of them, what with the noise and the high grass.” Tom nodded and circled away from us, back into the deep brush.
Matt and I inched forward through the scrub until I could almost reach out and touch the nearest drummer, seated with his back to me. The fire was larger than I’d thought. Flames jumped high into the air and even through our cover, the heat baked my face. The men were in a trance of some sort. The only one in the circle who appeared to be in full control was a short man bearing a staff. He wore a wooden mask carved in the shape of a cat’s face. The mouth was framed with thick, sharp, yellow teeth, and there was a heavy-looking necklace of black stones around his neck. One of his legs was covered in a snakeskin boot, and the other in a soft, leather moccasin.
He knelt several feet from the fire, between two wide wooden boards. A large man, black hair shot with gray, was strapped to one of the boards, a teenage boy to the other. The masked man, the hechicero, laid a hand on each of the captives’ chests and chanted in time with the drumming. I steadied my revolver, aimed at the wizard’s head, and looked at Matt.
“Take him down,” he whispered.
Then Black Tom thrust himself up from the bushes, brandishing the shotgun.
