Jailbreak (12 page)

Which suddenly reminded me of something I’d forgotten. I said, “Ray, run around to that mercantile where you got that powder and get me about twenty feet of quarter-inch cord. Sash cord, if they ever heard of such a thing.”

“What would you be wanting with that?”

“Just go,” I said. “And be quick about it.”

After he was gone I sat, thinking, trying to figure out what I’d forgotten. I could feel an edginess coming over me. Maybe there are those men who can go into a dangerous situation without some fear but I wasn’t one of them. I had no qualms about the necessity of what we were about to attempt, but neither did I have any illusions. It was going to be dangerous work and no mistake. We were about to attack a small fortress that was swarming with armed men. That sort of foolishness can get you killed.

Ben said, “Justa, it’s going on for two o’clock. That’s the time we’re supposed to meet them
pistoleros
over at the livery stable.”

I sighed. “Yeah, I know. Let’s have one more drink. Time’s getting close.”

I poured out all around and then we knocked them back. I said, “Ben, you and Lew and Jack go on over there and get them
pistoleros
lined out. If they’re drunk or troublesome let Lew handle them. But make sure they understand one damn thing. Every one of them
federales
they kill is one less that’s gonna be chasin’ us or them.”

Lew laughed. He said, “Oh, I don’t reckon we have to reinforce that idea. I reckon they already thought of that they ownselves.”

I said, “Luck.” They filed out. I called after Ben, “Be damn sure you watch yourself. Them Mexican bullets kill just the same as the ones on the other side of the Rio Grande.”

He turned and gave me a look. “Don’t tell me. You’re the one going to be closest to the fire. If you weren’t the boss I wouldn’t let you do it.”

Then they were gone and the wagon was in motion. All I could do was sit there and hope it didn’t run off a cliff.

Just when I was starting to get nervous about the time Hays finally showed up. He came in carrying a coil of sash cord. He said, “This what you had in mind, boss?”

I stood up. “Yeah,” I said. “Your saddlebags packed?”

“Yeah.”

I reached into mine and took out the two derringers. I handed one to him. “Here, stick that in your boot. It’s loaded. Two shots.” I shoved the other one down in my right boot. After that I took the wad of primer cord I’d cut up and shoved them down in my pocket. They were cut to different lengths, all the way from two inches to ten inches. Four seconds to twenty seconds. I shouldered my saddlebags and then looked over at Hays. “We forgetting anything?”

He shrugged, looking nervous. “Not so that I taken notice. ’Cept the bucket.”

I said, “Pick it up.” It was the bucket with the twelve innocent-looking beer-bottle bombs that I hoped would work. After he had it in hand I said, “Well, let’s go.”

On the way out I stopped at the desk and paid us out. It came to a little over fifty dollars, which I considered excessive, but I wasn’t in a mood to argue. Hays and I stepped out on the street. He said, “Where we headed, boss?”

I said, “Going over to the jail, but first we’re going to do a little bill collecting.”

He said, “Huh?”

I said, “Never mind. Just follow along with me.”

When we got to Obregon’s office Luís was smiling. He said, in his accented English, “We have done the job, Senor Williams. The matter of the deed is cleared up. Senor Obregon has it ready for you. I will show you in and come along to help with the translation.”

“Mighty good,” I said. Hays and I dumped our saddlebags by the door. The twenty foot of sash cord had been shoved down into one of the pockets of Hays’s saddlebags. We followed Luís into Obregon’s office. The little fat lawyer rose as we entered, all smiles. In Spanish he said that all was well, that he had managed to prove up our Spanish land grant. Some of it I understood; Luis translated the rest. Then Senor Obregon handed me my original title and some document in Spanish. Luís said it was proof of the land-grant title. I smiled and thanked him through Luís and took the two documents and folded them carefully and put them in my pocket. After all, they were what the whole business had been about. Then I said, casually, to Ray Hays, “Ray, put a gun on that boy so he don’t make any noise.”

Then I pulled out my pistol and stuck the business end right between Senor Obregon’s eyes. He’d been standing up, but with the gun in his face he slowly sank down into his chair. I just let the end of my gun follow him. His bottom jaw dropped so I took the opportunity to stick the barrel of my revolver in his mouth. Out of the corner of my eye I could see Luís, frozen stiff, Hays standing just behind him with a drawn pistol in his back. That was one of the reasons I valued Hays; he might argue from time to time, but he reacted when you needed him to without question.

I said to Señor Obregon, “Listen, lawyer, you got seventeen hundred and forty dollars of my money which you took without doing me a damn thing. I ain’t counting that fifty-five dollars I give you this morning, but I intend on having that money back.
Comprende?”

His eyes were wide and staring and he commenced making little gurgling sounds. Hays said, “Boss, I don’t think he can talk with that pistol in his mouth.”

I took the revolver off his tongue and shoved it back up between his eyes, but kept leaning across his desk. I figured he’d enjoyed the taste of cold steel enough to get my message. But I said, “I know you don’t speak English, but I have taken notice that you have a safe over there in that corner behind that curtain. Now I want you to open it and give me back my money, else I’m going to pull the trigger on this heavy-caliber pistol and splatter your brains all over this nice office. You
comprende?”

He just sat there shivering and shaking, his eyes still wide, his mouth still open. I said, “I reckon you better tell him, Luís. He’s got about a minute to make up his mind.” For emphasis I cocked the hammer of my revolver. The sound echoed off his tonsils in the quiet room.

Luís let go a high, nervous torrent of Spanish at the lawyer. When he was finished Obregon started shaking his head. Luís said, “He says he has no moneys in the safe, that he has transferred them to the bank.”

I sighed and said, “Well, tell him that’s his hard luck. I’m going to count to ten and then I’m going to shoot him. After that we’ll have to shoot you too because we can’t have no witnesses. You ready, Ray?”

Hays said, “Yeah, boss.”

I started counting. I didn’t even bother with the Spanish. I just held up my left hand and started ticking off fingers. I said, “One, two, three, four, five, six, seven—”

Luís said, suddenly, “Señor, I have admittance to the safe. Please don’t shoot me.” His voice was high and hysterical. I didn’t blame him. Hell, if I’d had an unknown gun in my back and a long life ahead of me I’d of done the same.

I said, “All right. Then open it.”

I could see him look fearfully back at Hays before he moved cautiously around the desk and toward the corner. As he went he said, respectfully to Obregon, in Spanish, something like, “Forgive me,
patrono.
It is necessary. It will mean our deaths otherwise.”

But Obregon didn’t like it one damn bit. He started to turn his head and say something to the young man but I tapped him hard across the forehead with the barrel of my pistol; he let out a little scream and collapsed across his desk. I hadn’t meant to hit him so hard, even though I was a little sick of his ways, but it seemed I’d managed to give him a pretty good cut and knock him out a little.

Luís had drawn aside the curtain and was working the dial of an old-fashioned combination safe. He said, “It is all in here, señor. Senor Obregon does not put his money in the bank. Do you want it all?”

“No,” I said. “Just seventeen hundred and forty dollars American. Only what I’ve give this thief. If it’s in pesos you make sure you get the right amount. I ain’t going to count it but I’ll be back if you short me.”

I saw him swing the door open and begin to work feverishly with stacks of bank notes. When he was done he stood up and solemly held out a wad of money at me. I tilted my head toward Hays. I said, “Give them to him. Ray, stick those in one of the saddlebags out by the door and then bring that cord back in here.”

While he was gone me and Luís stood like a couple of statues. I was sorry to be scaring the boy, but I really hadn’t had no choice. When Ray came back, carrying his saddlebag, I directed Luís to lay facedown on the floor. Obregon was making little moaning sounds. I went around the desk and jerked him out of his chair and threw him facedown on the floor. Then I said to Hays, “Take that cord and hog-tie them both. Make sure you do a good job of it.”

He got the cord out of his saddlebags, took out his knife and cut the twenty feet into proper lengths. When he was finished they were both laying back down on the floor with their hands tied behind their backs and their feet drawed up toward their hands. They looked mighty uncomfortable. Hays straightened up from his work and said, “That good enough, boss?”

I said, “Yeah. You got any socks?”

“What?”

“Socks. What you wear on your feet.”

He looked a little dubious. “Yeah,” he said, “but they ain’t too clean.”

“Never mind,” I said. “Stick one in each of their mouths.”

He went into his saddlebags and came out with a couple of bedraggled-looking objects I wouldn’t have let a cat bed down on. I said, “Luís, you got a handkerchief?”

With a little effort because of the position he was in he said, “Yes, señor. It is in the pocket of my suit coat. On the right side.”

“All right,” I said. I nodded for Hays to accommodate Senor Obregon with one of his socks, but I knelt down by Luís, found his handkerchief and stuffed it in his mouth. Then I went over to Obregon. I said, “You son of a bitch, you thought I was easy. You might want to think again before you try some of your tricks on the next sucker that walks through your door.”

After that Hays shouldered his saddlebag and I done the same with mine as we got to the door. There was a key on the desk usually occupied by Luís and I used that to lock the office door. Anybody coming by would simply think they’d left for siesta. Hays had the bucket containing what I hoped were bombs. I’d put tenpenny nails in a few of them, but I didn’t really think they’d be very effective except as a diversionary tactic. Hays was mumbling something about what he was supposed to do with just one sock. I told him to shut up.

But as we stepped out of the office he said, kind of hesitantly, “Boss, you know, I ain’t real sure you ain’t part crazy.”

I was watching the street, looking for Ben and Jack. I said, “Why is that, Ray?”

He said, “Well, here we are, fixin’ to try and break your brother outen a Mexican jail and you take time off to fix things square with a lawyer. Boss, that don’t make no sense. Most folks would be content with just the jailbreak.”

I said, still searching for sight of Ben as we walked toward the jail, “That’s because you ain’t ever had to be responsible for running an outfit. Do you know how many cowhands wages you can pay with seventeen hundred and forty dollars?”

“No,” he said.

“I do,” I said. “And once you let folks start getting to you they’ll think the bank is open twenty-four hours a day. Look, yonder comes Ben and Jack with the horses. From this instant on you do exactly what I tell you, when I tell you.”

“Ain’t I always?” he said.

We were almost at the corner of the street opposite the jail. Ben came riding up with Jack lagging back, leading three horses. Hays and I tucked our revolvers into our saddlebags and handed them up to Ben. He took them without a word and then wheeled back toward Jack. There just wasn’t anything left to say. Hays and I, him carrying the bucket, started across the street toward the jail. There was a little wind blowing and it raised some of the dust of the street so that I was able to get a good noseful of just what a Mexican town smelled like.

Maybe it was just apprehension, but there appeared to be considerable more police hanging around the front of the jail, either sitting on benches or leaning up against the granite wall. All of them had those Sam Browne belts with the strap across the chest and they were all wearing the khaki uniform of the
federales.
And all of them had a carbine either hanging off his shoulder or near to hand. All I could think was that Elizandro’s boys had better do some damn good shooting or we’d never reach the horses. I glanced over at Hays and he gave me a kind of nervous little laugh. I didn’t blame him; I wasn’t feeling all that calm myself. And it wasn’t even his brother. I said, “Remind me to give you a raise if we get out of this.”

He said, “I appreciate it, boss. I just hope I git a chance to spend it.”

He sounded about as sure as I felt.

The
federales
glanced at us as we pushed the big door open and entered the outer office. It all looked the same but, in light of what was to come, very much more threatening. The same sergeant was sitting at his desk by the door that led back to the cells. By now he and I were old buddies on account of all the
dinero
I’d passed his way. His eyes lit up and he smiled when he saw us come in. I figured he was thinking, “Here comes Santa Claus again.” I went up to his desk and made application to see my brother, meanwhile slipping a fifty-peso note across the desk to the sergeant. He took it without a word and folded it carefully and put it in his shirt pocket. I taken notice that he had his police revolver laying on his desk where it would be right quick to hand. That was something I’d have to keep in mind.

About then my two jailer friends came up, jangling their keys on their belts and smiling big. One of them had a gold tooth and I was surprised somebody hadn’t killed him for it. They were just as glad to see me as the sergeant had been, naturally expecting another payday. Well, it was payday all right, but not the kind they were expecting.