Chapter Five #3
And there were his mother and aunt to see to.
A message had been sent of Andreas’s death.
The women would be grieving just as he was.
They would need his support, and in truth it would comfort him to have theirs.
It would ease their minds to know Padre Xavier had said the mass, and in time, once it was safe and the danger of discovery was past, he would see his brother’s body removed to the family plot that had given Rancho Las Almas its name—Ranch of Souls.
The place where generations of de la Guerras had been laid to rest, the only reason the small five-hundred-acre parcel of land remained in the de la Guerra name when the rest of their land had been taken.
Stolen, he corrected. By the gringo—Fletcher Austin and his band of thieves.
“You are on your way home?” Pedro asked, walking to where Ramon stood in the shade of the lean-to saddling a tall rawboned sorrel horse. Viento, the stallion ridden by El Dragón, remained at Llano Mirada. He would know only one rider now.
Ramon forced down a moment of pain. Smoothing the thick woolen blanket over the horse’s back, he lifted the heavy vaquero’s saddle into place atop it. “It is time I returned to Las Almas. I will come back as soon as it is safe.”
“Florentia and I will see to the girl.”
“I know you will. I am sure you will see she is back on her feet by the time I return.” A corner of his mouth curved up. “I find myself looking forward to the challenge.”
“What will you do with her, Ramon? You cannot let her go. She knows who you are and where this place is.”
Footsteps sounded inside the barn, drawing the men’s attention. “Perhaps you can sell her.” Francisco Villegas walked toward him, a hard-faced vaquero who had joined them only a few months back. “They say the price for a pretty gringa runs high across the border in Nogales.”
Ramon ran the cinch strap under the horse’s belly, giving himself time to control the fury he hadn’t expected. “The girl stays here. She belongs to me.” He pulled the cinch strap snug. “I have already made that clear to the rest of the men.”
Cisco Villegas grinned beneath his heavy black mustache. One of his eyeteeth was missing. The other was capped with gold. “I do not think Miranda will be pleased to hear it.”
Ramon turned slowly to face him, his patience at an end. “Miranda is not your concern. Neither is the gringa. I would advise you to remember it.” His hard look spoke its warning and Cisco backed a step away.
“Si, Don Ramon. Whatever you say.” Turning on his heel, he walked out of the shadows, heading for the corral.
“I am not certain I like that man,” Pedro said.
“Neither am I,” said Ramon.
“He is a friend of your cousin Angel’s, and your brother trusted him.”
“Si. I hope he did not misplace that trust.”
“I will keep an eye on him.”
Ramon just nodded. Sliding the heavy Spanish bit between the horse’s teeth, he settled the animal’s head stall over its ears, then gathered the long braided reins. Shoving a booted foot into a leather tapadero, he swung up into the saddle. “Hasta la vista, compadre.”
Pedro smiled, crinkling the lines in his weathered face. “Hasta la vista, my friend.”
* * *
Sitting astride his big buckskin horse, Fletcher Austin lifted his dusty brown felt hat and mopped the sweat from his brow with a forearm. “Any sign of them?” he asked Cleve Sanders, his foreman, a rangy, long-boned man with curly brown hair.
“Not a trace. It’s the same damn way every time we go after them. They just seem to disappear.”
“Maybe Collins and Ramirez will be able to recover the stock,” Fletcher said, though he didn’t hold out much hope.
Two days after the raid, the outlaw band had split up, the horses being driven north while most of the men continued east. Fletcher had done the same, sending a small party north in pursuit while his main body of men continued to track the larger group of men, hoping El Dragón was among them.
They had been chasing the outlaws for nearly a week. He was bone-tired and saddle sore and so were his men, but he wanted those horses. More than that, he wanted El Dragón.
The bastard had taken his niece. It was personal between them now.
“Odds are, that stock’s on its way to the gold fields,” he said.
“There’s so much demand for meat, the cattle trails are constantly in use.
Collins and his men are at least a day behind them.
If the bandits are smart—and so far they have been—they’ll stay on the main trail till their tracks are overrun, then cut off somewhere and move up into the hills.
There’s no way Collins and the others are going to find them, unless they just get lucky. ”
“What about El Dragón?”
Fletcher fought to control a sweep of anger.
“He’s got Caralee. I’m not giving up until she’s returned.
In the meantime, we’ll go back to del Robles and regroup.
We’ll get some of the local rancheros to join us, get more supplies, and fresh mounts for the men.
Then we’ll just have to hope something turns up.
” Fletcher clenched a meaty fist. “I swear I won’t rest till I see that bastard swinging from the limb of a Rancho del Robles oak. ”
Fletcher smiled grimly at the thought. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d hung a no-good greaser. It probably wouldn’t be the last.