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Authors: Ralph Compton

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BOOK: The Border Empire
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“He no
Mejicano,”
El Lobo said.
“How can you tell?”
“No can ride
mulo.
He used to horse, saddle, stirrup. Dismount hard,” said El Lobo.
“Now that you mention it,” Wes said, “there is something odd about him. Why does a man arrive a good three hours before a cantina opens, and why does he choose this particular cantina? The sun shines everywhere.”
“Sí,”
said El Lobo. “Per'ap he look for somebody.”
“Amigo,”
Wes said, “you have a habit of getting at the truth of a matter. I'd bet a horse and saddle he's watching the Sandlin mansion.”
“Why? He no
soldado.”
“We may not be the only ones who suspect Sandlin's about to make a run for it,” said Wes. “I'd say some of the
hombres
here in Toluca are looking for a double-cross. If Sandlin's inner circle is watching him, then our suspicions are well founded.”
“Sí,”
El Lobo said. “We watch everybody.”
As the day wore on, the “Mexican” never left his position before the cantina.
“Por Dios,”
said El Lobo, “no food, no water.”
“It'll be interesting to see if he shows up tomorrow,” Wes said. “If he does, or one dressed like him, then we'll know Sandlin's bunch is watching the house.”
A few minutes before sundown, the “Mexican” stood up, stretched, and very clumsily mounted the mule. El Lobo laughed. When it was good and dark, José thumped on the wall, his way of telling them it was suppertime. Empty bounded ahead, for he knew they were going to the house to eat. Tamara and Renita became very excited when they learned that some of Sandlin's own men might be watching the house.
“It is more than we could have hoped for,” Tamara said. “How can Sandlin not be brought down, with so many of us joining the fight?”
“We don't yet know for sure,” said Wes, “but we should tomorrow. If there's another phony Mexican over there tomorrow, I believe we can safely say he's watching the Sandlin house.”
 
For three days, Wes and El Lobo watched the Sandlin mansion without seeing anyone arrive or depart. Each day, the nondescript “Mexican” showed up outside the cantina.
“That settles it,” Wes said. “Somebody's watching that place besides us.”
“Per'ap Sandlin be gone when we come,” said El Lobo.
“I'm startin' to wonder,” Wes said. “We'll give it another day.”
On the morning of the fourth day, a woman emerged from the mansion. Going to a carriage house, she led out a horse and harnessed it to a buckboard. She then mounted the box and drove away toward the business district of the town.
“Sandlin's
señorita,”
said El Lobo. “We follow?”
“I don't think so,” Wes replied. “There's nothing in the buckboard. Let's see what our
amigo
does over yonder by the cantina.”
The “Mexican” near the cantina didn't leave his post. Two hours later, the buckboard returned. The woman backed the vehicle into the carriage house, unharnessed the horse, and returned it to its stall. She then took her parcels and entered the house.
“We still do not know if Sandlin be there,” said El Lobo.
“No,” Wes said, “and I don't know how we can find out.”
Tampico, Mexico. August 26, 1884
Aboard the
Aguila,
a clipper ship anchored in Tampico bay, Captain Agar studied the telegram he had just received. It said:
Sail immediately per my instructions and do not return.
There was no signature, and none was necessary. Renaldo, first mate to the five-man crew, said nothing. Agar passed him the telegram, and after reading it, he grinned.
“It's what we been waitin' for, eh, Cap'n?”
“Yeah,” Agar said. “It means what we got on board is our last payload.”
“I never would of thought we'd be trusted this far,” said Renaldo. “Why you reckon Sandlin ain't sailin' with us?”
“Who knows?” Agar replied. “This particular plan was to come into play only if Sandlin couldn't get away without bein' followed. So much the better for us. Now we ain't got to bother disposin' of Sandlin. We're still sailin' to South America, but to a port of our own choosin'.”
“Haw, haw,” said Renaldo, “this'll be the sweetest double-cross in the history of the world. What do you aim to tell the rest of the crew when we bypass Sandlin's port?”
“Nothin',” Agar said. “Once we're in port, they're expendable.”
Renaldo laughed, but had he been more observant, he wouldn't have liked the crafty look in Captain Agar's hard eyes.
 
Cord Sandlin paced the floor impatiently. The telegram to Tampico had been the least favorable of three possible plans, but Sandlin wasn't sure the Mexican government hadn't staked out the Aguila. The moment the craft prepared to sail, it might be boarded and searched. While there was no way the vessel or its cargo could be traced to Sandlin, the gold would be confiscated, and that would be regrettable.
But the Sandlin house held many secrets. Beneath the first floor was a cellar, and only Sandlin knew of the concealed tunnel that led to a vault containing millions in gold. There was a means—if circumstances warranted it—of collapsing the tunnel and sealing off the chamber. There was food, water, ventilation, and a means of escape of which only Sandlin was aware. There the gold would be secure until it could safely be removed.
 
“Damn it,” Canton said, “I don't believe Sandlin's in that house. He's managed to find some female to stay there, figurin' to throw us off the trail. Jarvis, you got to go back to that place and be sure we ain't watchin' an empty house.”
“I got no reason for goin' back there,” said Jarvis. “You know what Sandlin said, and I ain't wantin' a tongue-lashing.”
“You know what the varmint's doin‘,” Undilay said. “We been told to lay low for the next three months, and that's what Sandlin's doin'. By God, one of them servants is goin' out for grub, and nobody—includin' us—will lay an eye on Sandlin.”
“Yeah,” said Wittrus, “and me not knowin' if Sandlin's in there or not just rubs me the wrong damn way. Why don't we ride in after dark and shoot up the place?”
“If that's the best idea you got,” Jarvis said, “why don't you ride over there and do it in broad daylight? All it'll do is draw attention to Sandlin, and that three-month wait will stretch into never.”
“Yeah,” said Canton, “if we aim to hang on here, we can't do anything more to stir up the military and these old Mexes that's been raisin' hell.”
“So we go on settin' next to a cantina watchin' the house, not knowin' if Sandlin's in there or not,” Zouka said.
“That's how it is,” said Jarvis. “We got to do it Sandlin's way or we're on our own.”
“I think we're on our own, anyway,” Klady said in disgust. “Hell, Sandlin's stringin' us along, so's we don't stir up trouble here in town. Let the dust settle, and Sandlin will run for it.”
“Klady's right,” said Tafolla. “We ain't gettin' another peso out of Sandlin. We're all supposed to get fed up and ride on, leavin' Sandlin with all the loot.”
“All the more reason why I don't aim to ride on,” Jarvis said. “I'll be here until I get some satisfaction. I won't fault any man wantin' to move on.”
“Ah, hell,” said Klady, “I reckon I'll stick it out. I can't see lettin' Sandlin have it all without a fight.”
Swallowing their anger and disgust, they all agreed to stay, taking turns watching the Sandlin mansion.
 
“There has to be a way to smoke Sandlin out of there,” Wes said while he and El Lobo were having breakfast.
“We only need proof that Sandlin is there,” said Renita. “Couldn't someone go there and ask?”
“Si,”
El Lobo said, “but for why?”
“I will speak to Juan,” said Tamara. “Perhaps he will know how we can do it.”
“Juan will be here tonight,” Anna Marie said.
“Bueno,”
said Wes. “Tomorrow we'll do something, even if it's wrong.”
Chapter 17
 
 
W
es and El Lobo spent another fruitless day watching the Sandlin house. When it was dark enough, they made their way to Anna Marie's boardinghouse for supper and found that Juan was already there.
“I have spoken to him,” Tamara said, “and there is a way we can get into the Sandlin house. Not you and El Lobo, but Renita and me. Once each week, two
señoritas
go there to clean. This time—the day after tomorrow—we will replace those
señoritas.”
“Too dangerous,” said Wes. “Both of you are white-skinned, and Renita has almost red hair.”
“We fix that,” Anna Marie said.
“Yes,” said Tamara. “Anna Marie knows of a brew—a stain—that will brown us so that we look Mexican. Renita will wear her hair in a bun, covering it with a scarf.”
“I know of the stain,” Wes said, recalling how Maria Armijo had once transformed him, “but Renita's slow with the Spanish.”
“I know that,” said Renita. “Tamara will speak for us.”
Wes had no further objection, and Juan grinned at them all, proud that he had offered a solution to their problem.
“I'll see that the
señoritas
you replace are paid,” Wes said.
“We thought of that,” said Tamara, “but Juan refuses. He says if we destroy Sandlin, that is enough.”
“Get in house,” El Lobo said, “what you do?”
“If we are not to arouse suspicion,” said Tamara, “we will have to clean the house. If we only learn that Sandlin is still there, we will know our watching and waiting has not been in vain.”
“Bueno,”
Wes said, “but there's a chance you may discover other useful things. Look for a safe, or a sealed-off room you're not allowed to enter. The important thing is to get a look at Sandlin. So far, none of us knows what the varmint looks like.”
“Sí,”
El Lobo said, “and there be the
señorita
that go, come, and do not go again.”
“He's right,” said Wes. “I'd forgotten about her. She
has
to be in that house somewhere.”
“There are many mysteries within the Sandlin mansion,” Tamara observed. “Revealing them will perhaps hasten the end of this evil empire.”
“Just don't get careless,” said Wes. “Don't talk one to another, because those walls may have ears. If there's so much as a chance you may be discovered, get out of there.”
 
Yet another day passed without anyone entering or leaving the Sandlin mansion, and by suppertime Wes and El Lobo were more than ready for Tamara and Renita to enter the house the following day. To their surprise, when they reached Anna Marie's, Tamara and Renita were completely transformed. All skin that might be seen—including their feet and ankles—looked Mexican. Renita had her auburn hair in a tight bun, concealing it entirely with a colorful scarf. Both women wore plain, long
peon
skirts to their ankles. Anna Marie beamed, proud of her handiwork, while the mute José looked at them with amazement.
“By God,” said Wes, “I don't believe even Sandlin can see through that, if neither of you stumble. You're well prepared, but just don't forget the danger involved.”
“We are even better prepared than you think,” Renita said. “Look.”
She and Tamara drew their skirts waist-high, and each had a Colt revolver secured to the inside of one thigh. José grinned, while Anna Marie laughed delightedly.
“I've never seen a Colt carried in that position before,” said Wes. “It must be mighty uncomfortable.”
“A little,” Tamara admitted, “but one can stand discomfort for a while, if one's life is at risk.”
“You can't walk to the Sandlin place from here,” said Wes. “How will you go?”
“Juan thought of everything,” Renita said. “The usual cleaning women are taken there in a wagon. The same wagon will come for us here, well before daylight, and will return to Sandlin's place for us at sundown. We won't be back here until after dark tomorrow.”
“Tarnation,” said Wes, “is
everybody
in these parts related to Juan?”
“Some only
amigos,”
Anna Marie said, “but all hate the evil empire.”
 
Wes and El Lobo were watching the Sandlin house the following morning when Renita and Tamara arrived. They used the big brass door knocker, and when the door opened, the persoh who opened it very carefully avoided being seen. Wes and El Lobo sighed. It would be a long day.
“Buenos dias, señor,”
said Tamara in perfect Spanish.
Sandlin—if the man
was
Sandlin—nodded, saying nothing. They followed him down a long hall, and he stepped aside when they reached the kitchen. He was assuming they knew where the mops, brooms, and cleaning supplies were. Tamara swallowed hard and, with Renita following, crossed to the farthest end of the kitchen, where there were double doors. They both breathed a huge sigh of relief when they opened the doors to reveal the necessary cleaning equipment and supplies. Rare for the time and place, built into the kitchen counter was a huge sink, and above it, a pump. Daring to look back, Tamara found Sandlin gone.
“We are alone, I think,” Tamara said.
“My God,” said Renita in a whisper, “this is such a huge place. Where do we start?”
BOOK: The Border Empire
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