Lone Star 03 (19 page)

She opened the door and Ki boosted her and Jessie inside. Before he was in himself, the coachman had slapped the reins on the back of his horse and the carriage was moving away. Ki looked back as they rounded the corner beside the church. A dozen
rurales
had come out of the headquarters and were standing there in a huddle, arms waving in excited argument. They paid no attention to the landaulet as it started along the dusty road that led to the Mendoza ranch.

Chapter 13

When the towers of San Pedro's church were out of sight and no
rurales
had appeared on the dusty road to pursue the swaying landaulet, Jessie and Ki felt more comfortable. Certain that his
bo
would not be needed, and because it was an inconvenience in the carriage, Ki collapsed it and replaced it in its case. Lita had said nothing since they'd left the hotel, but now she turned to Ki, her lips set in a firm determined line.

“You and Miss Starbuck are safe now, Ki,” she told him. “It's time for you to give me the explanation you promised when you asked me to help you. What sort of trouble are you trying to escape, that the
rurales
should be after you?”

Ki called on the silent communication that he and Jessie had developed through long practice. With a tiny flick of one eyelid and an almost imperceptible nod, he let Jessie know that he'd prefer to have her answer Lita's question.

From the moment Jessie had seen the method Ki had arranged for their flight from San Pedro, she'd realized they would have to give Lita some kind of explanation for their troubles. She'd decided to gamble that if their suspicions were true, and Don Almendaro Mendoza was involved in the cartel, Lita would know nothing about that aspect of her father's life. Jessie had an answer ready, one that was truthful, even if not complete.

“We're after cattle thieves, Miss Mendoza,” she said. “We had to come by ourselves because we couldn't get help from the United States Army, which has orders not to cross the border into Mexico. And we believe that Guzman and his
rurales
are working with the cattle rustlers.”

Lita nodded slowly. “I'm sure Captain Guzman wouldn't turn his back on anything that brought him money. He's as greedy as he is evil. But why didn't he arrest Ki when he took you prisoner, Miss Starbuck?”

Jessie shrugged and answered Lita's question with one of her own. “Who knows what was in Guzman's mind? He had no reason to arrest me; Ki and I haven't broken any laws in Mexico. All I can think of is that Guzman was hoping to force me to make some kind of confession that would give him an excuse to arrest us both.”

“From what I saw before I broke into Guzman's office, he was trying to force you to do more than confess,” Ki put in.

“I've heard that in San Pedro, no woman feels safe from Guzman,” Lita said thoughtfully. “And he has looked at me—” She stopped short, was silent a moment, then said, “Of course, my father's name protects me, even from a captain of
rurales.”

“You said your father and Guzman are friendly,” Ki frowned.

“No,” Lita corrected him quickly. “I said they have some small business arrangment between them. Even though Father does not speak of his business with me, I know that he has no greater liking for Guzman than I do.”

“And Guzman knows this, I'm sure,” Jessie said. “Do you think he might try to take me back by force?”

Lita shook her head. “He would not dare! Besides, we have more men on the ranch than Guzman has in his company of
rurales,
and there is also a room full of guns.”

“Will they fight the
rurales?”
Ki asked quickly.

“Of course, if Father orders them to. But I am sure Guzman would not risk a fight. My father has many friends high in the government. A snap of his fingers and Guzman would be moved or his rank as captain taken from him.”

Ki nodded. Lita's remark confirmed still further the suspicion he and Jessie had discussed, that Guzman and Mendoza were linked through the cartel. They'd seen cases before where, to further the cartel's schemes, the international cabal had used all forms of pressure from bribery to blackmail to force men who had little use for one another to work together.

Jessie saw that Lita was satisfied with the explanation she and Ki had given. To divert the conversation from what could quickly become dangerous ground, she asked Lita, “How far from here is your ranch, Miss Mendoza?”

“It is fifty kilometers,” Lita replied.

“Nearly thirty miles,” Ki frowned. “A long ride.”

“In the carriage, yes,” Lita agreed. “But we should be there in the middle of the afternoon.”

“Would the carriage move faster if Ki and I lightened its load by riding our horses?” Jessie asked.

Lita shook her head. “No. But I don't blame you for preferring a horse to this old landaulet. If Father didn't object so strongly, I'd ride my mare to San Pedro. But would you please call me Lita, Miss Starbuck? Surely the adventure we're sharing is enough to let us put formality aside.”

“Of course. And you must call me Jessie.”

“Yes. We will have a chance to get better acquainted while we are at the ranch.”

“How large is your ranch, Lita?” Jessie asked.

“Oh, quite a number of
hectares.
Several thousand, I'm sure. You must ask Father, if you want to know how many thousand.”

“And your father would be the only one who knows about the other ranches your family owns?”

“Of course. Oh, I know their names—the Rancho Es trella in Tehuantepec, Rancho Manopla in Durango, Rancho Tres Cerros, the one closest to the Rancho Mendoza, here in Chihuahua. But I have not even visited all of them.”

At Lita's mention of the Rancho Tres Cerros, Ki and Jessie exchanged another of their understanding glances. Don Almendaro's daughter had just given them the last clue they needed.

“Don't you even visit the one nearest here?” Jessie asked.

“Not anymore. We went there often when I was a young girl, but it's been years since Father has felt like spending any time there. He seldom visits Tres Cerros himself.”

Ki looked out the coach window. They were crossing the top of a seemingly endless plateau to which they'd climbed soon after leaving the saucer in which San Pedro lay. It was rolling land, low hills and wide gentle vales, unlike the arid, barren strip along the Rio Grande. There were trees in scattered clumps, open range covered with grass that was thin, but adequate to sustain herds of moderate size.

“Is the country around the Tres Cerros ranch like this?” he asked, nodding through the window.

“Oh, no,” Lita replied. She pointed to the southwest, and in that direction they could now see a lower and even wider plateau than the one they were crossing. Beyond the plateau, through the thin, clear air, they could see rising the rugged, barren slopes of the massive Sierra Madre. Lita went on, “Our Rancho Tres Cerros lies that way; it is in the foothills of the mountains. There is much less good land around it.”

“Do you raise cattle there?” Jessie asked. When Lita nodded, Jessie went on, “The range there must be like it is on my own ranch in Texas.”

Lita looked searchingly at Jessie and asked, “Tell me something, Jessie. You are young to be a widow, but you must have inherited your ranch from a husband now dead—”

Jessie broke in. “Not a husband, Lita. My father.”

“Oh. I had not considered that. And you manage it alone?”

“With help from friends such as Ki, and others.”

“Your men obey your orders readily?”

“Of course. But I seldom give orders. I make suggestions.”

“I see. Of course, on your ranch you raise cattle; on the Rancho Mendoza, the
toros bravos
are bred.”

“That shouldn't make a bit of difference,” Jessie said. “But I've never been to a ranch where fighting bulls are bred. I wouldn't know how to compare it with the Circle Star.”

“You will have a chance to, when we get there,” Lita said.

 

 

Midafternoon brought them to the Rancho Mendoza. It stood in the shelter of a wide valley, and from the valley's rim they looked down on a complex of buildings—barns, corrals, sheds, small houses, even a miniature bullring—spread in a rough semicircle around a large two-story main house built of the ubiquitous yellow stone of the area. Both Jessie and Ki gasped when they first saw the establishment; it was like no ranch they'd seen before.

“It—it's certainly not like the Circle Star,” Jessie commented. “Maybe there is a lot of difference between raising cattle and breeding fighting bulls.”

“Father would know about that, Jessie. I don‘t, but you can ask him.”

“I will, when I meet him.”

Lita bounded out of the carriage without waiting for Jessie and Ki. She started for the door of the mansion, then remembered and waited while they alighted. The door swung open as they went up the broad flight of steps leading to it. As they went in, Ki got a glimpse of a white-clad youth standing behind the door, ready to close it. They'd gone only a few steps before another door opened and a tall, angular man stepped into the hall. Lita stopped, and so did Jessie and Ki. They did not need to wait for an introduction to realize that the man was Don Almendaro Mendoza.

“I am back, Father,” Lita said. Her voice was meek and a bit worried.

“So I see,” Don Almendaro told her. “I also see that you have brought guests with you.”

“Yes, Father. May I present Miss Jessie Starbuck, who owns a large ranch in the United States, and Ki—” Lita stopped, frowned, and then finished in a rush, “Ki works with Miss Starbuck on the ranch.”

Ki saw at once where Lita had gotten most of her features. Except for her mouth, which was rounded and soft, her father's face was reflected in hers. They both had the same high forehead and overlong chin, but Don Almendaro's mouth was a thin, severe line. He wore a
charro
costume of fine gabardine, the jacket and flared legs of the trousers decorated with gold embroidery. He gazed at Jessie and Ki for a moment before turning back to Lita.

“Did you welcome your guests as our custom requires?” he asked. His voice was neither warm nor cold, approving nor disapproving; it was simply neutral.

“No, Father. I thought—”

“Then do so, please. They are your guests.”

Lita hesitated for only a moment before she said to Jessie and Ki, “Welcome to the Rancho Mendoza. Our house is yours.”

“You did that very well, Lita,” Don Almendaro said, still in a voice that held no expression whatever. “Since you are the hostess for their visit, I suggest that you take Miss Starbuck to the guest room reserved for the impresarios of the
corrida.
I will have Manuel escort Ki to a suitable accommodation.”

“But Father—” Lita began.

“Lita.” Don Almendaro's voice was suddenly stern, almost to the point of harshness.

“Very well, Father,” she said. “Jessie, please come with me. Ki will be taken care of by one of our house servants.”

Jessie and Ki avoided consulting even by a covert glance, under Mendoza's sharp scrutiny. After Jessie had started down the hallway, following Lita, Don Almendaro looked at Ki with a frown. Ki met Mendoza's eyes and kept his own face expressionless. For several moments the
hacendado
scrutinized Ki, then, still without speaking, disappeared into the room from which he'd come. Ki waited, his face inscrutable, until a man of middle age came up the hall to where he stood.

“Se llama Ki?”
he asked.

“Ki, yes, I am Ki,” Ki replied. In the hostile atmosphere Don Almendaro had created, Ki intended to keep to himself the fact that he had a working knowledge of Spanish. It was one of the few assets on which he and Jessie could count.

“You do not speak the Spanish?”

When Ki shook his head, the man motioned for him to follow, and started down the hall. The servant led him out the back door and into one of the two-story buildings that stood in an arc behind the house. Inside, Ki found it much like some of the frontier hotels in which he'd stayed; it had a large central open area with small rooms closely spaced on both floors. The servant opened the door of one of them and indicated with a quick gesture that it was to be Ki's.

“Momentito,”
he said, then shook his head and went on, “Quick I bring
su equipaje.”

Ki examined his surroundings. The small, neat room was furnished with a bed, a table, chairs, a washstand. Ki had occupied much worse rooms in many of the hotels where he'd stopped during his travels.