The Mission War (21 page)

It was no contest. Mono with a gun was one thing; Mono alone was another. A single punch to the bandit king's chest stopped him cold. He clutched his chest and fell back, gasping for breath.

Mono sank into the water, still trying to fill his empty lungs with air, but there was only water there, cool, blue water, and it flowed into his mouth, flooding his lungs. Mono kicked and gasped and then sank a little in the river, floating slowly away downstream, his dead eyes open to the willows and the crimson sunrise.

Ki started to jog back toward the bandit camp.

 

 

Jessica had emptied her carbine again. Below was destruction and death, but she didn't feel the slightest pity for these men who had come to kill, to burn, to enslave.

“Here,” Diego said, nudging her, and Jessica took a handful of cartridges from him and automatically reloaded, although there seemed to be few living targets below.

“Do you see him?” Jessica asked.

“Don Alejandro?”

“Yes. He was right there; now he's gone.”

Diego Cardero peered into the sunlight, searching the battlefield below. Somehow the man had disappeared. In the smoke and confusion, he had made his way out of the camp apparently. But to where? Cardero's eyes caught the sudden flash of movement in the willows and he shouted.

“There!” he said, his finger pointing beyond the ravaged camp to where Brecht was trying to make his escape.

Jessica lifted her rifle to her shoulder, realized she didn't have a shot, and lowered it again. Then she was off, sprinting down the sandy bluff toward the outlaw camp, ignoring Diego's shouted warnings.

She reached the willows on a dead run and started fighting her way through the brush. He had to be stopped. To come this near and then allow Brecht to escape was unthinkable. Jessie paused, listening to the hum of the insects in the brush along the river. Then she heard the sound of hoofbeats, saw the sudden blur of movement beyond the screen of silver willows, and darted that way, rifle in hand.

She reached the river in time to see Brecht splashing across it on a roan horse. Jessica lifted her rifle, fired twice, and missed as the running horse achieved the far side of the river and disappeared into the brush and oaks.

A second horse stood not far to the north, tied to a broken oak and tossing its head in annoyance or fear. Jessie ran that way, swung aboard the skittish animal, and heeled it sharply toward the river.

They splashed across, silver fans of water flying from the roan's hooves and started on after Brecht who had a good half mile lead by now.

The burned town was to Jessie's left, the endless desert to her right. Brecht was straight ahead of her, riding toward the south, toward his ranch and safety.

Jessie tried a shot, but from the back of the galloping horse it was a chancy thing for even such a marksman as she was, and the bullet flew wide. Brecht seemed to be unarmed. She saw him turn in the saddle as her shot winged its way past his head, saw him duck low and urge his roan horse into the sandy foothills below San Ignacio. Then the roan found a squirrel hole with its right front hoof, and Jessica saw nothing else as the roan went down, rolling and tumbling with its hooves thrashing at the air and a cloud of sand dust flying.

Something rose up to thump solidly against Jessie's head, and the sun went cold and dark as she fell spinning into a vasty empty cavern.

When she came to, Diego and Ki were there. Both men looked concerned, but both smiled as she shook her head, held her skull, and sat up.

“Sit still, Jessica,” Ki said. His hands were on her shoulders, pressing her down.

“Brecht—”

“He's gone, I'm afraid, long gone now.”

Diego handed Jessica a canteen and she drank from it. Not far from her the roan lay dead.

Jessica drank from the canteen, letting the water trickle down her throat. The humming cleared from her brain, and the flashing lights behind her eyes dissolved. “I almost had him,” she said.

“Almost,” Diego answered. He smiled but that did nothing to dispell the gloom and anger inside Jessica Starbuck.

“Damn all, I almost had him!” She looked at Ki, “You're back—you got Mono.”

“I got Mono,” Ki responded. He and Diego had Jessica by her arms now, hoisting her to her feet. She stood there woozily for a while and then shook free of them to turn and stare southward, southward toward Alejandro's path of retreat.

Slowly then she turned back, and the three of them started walking toward the ravaged town where smoke still billowed into the air. Beyond the town the church lifted its ruined bell tower against the pale blue sky.

Brother Joseph was at the battered mission gate to meet them. Maria rushed into Ki's arms. In the mission yard itself, the people of San Ignacio had begun an impromptu fiesta. The town mariachi played. They all danced—weary, smoke-blackened peasants relieved suddenly of their burden, of the fear of death.

Inside the church Brother Joseph sent for water and towels. Jessica and the men cleaned up as well as possible. When Jessie glanced at the friar, she saw his head bowed and his hands clasped, and she heard him saying a prayer of thanksgiving.

“It is done,” the friar said aloud finally, his face beaming.

Jessica Starbuck disagreed. “It's not done at all.”

“Why,” he said, “what can you mean? Mono is gone; the bandits are gone or dead. We have won.”

“We've won,” Diego Cardero said darkly, “but Don Alejandro has escaped. He's alive yet to organize more
bandido
gangs to ride out and take more Indian slaves.”

“I realize this,” the friar said, “but what more can we do? The
federales
will be informed and they will put an end to Don Alejandro's slaving.”

“By the time the
federales
can do anything, Brecht will be gone again. Maybe he won't be able to run his slave operation in this area anymore, but he'll be out there doing something just as nasty.”

“He still holds slaves,” Ki said worriedly.

“What do you mean?” the friar asked.

Jessica told him, “He won't be able to run with them. If he has to flee, he may take it into his head to kill them.”

“But that is maniacal.”

“Not in Brecht's mind, not in the minds of those who control him. It's simply good business,” Ki said coldly.

“But I can't believe...” The friar had hardly led a sheltered life. He'd seen enough to know what goes on in the world, but this was something beyond his understanding.

“Fly Catcher,” Jessica said quietly.

“The Indian—but he is dead.”

“He's dead, and Ki and I would likely be dead if he hadn't taken a hand when he did.”

Diego Cardero said, “I took an oath that I would see Don Alejandro dead. I promised this to Fly Catcher. I promised this to my mother.”

“We're going to do it,” Jessica Starbuck said firmly. She looked to Ki who nodded silently. “We're going to get the man. If there are any slaves being held in the Casa Alejandro, and I'd wager there are, we owe it to them.”

The friar shook his head in disapproval. “You will all die as well. How can you attack a fortified position? Here we at least had the mission walls, a few tricks. The Alejandro place sits on a hill and is protected well. You would need an army to assault it.”

Maria said. “We have an army.”

“I don't understand,” the bewildered friar answered.

“We have an army—if they'll fight. We have the people of San Ignacio.”

“No,” the friar said, “I forbid it!”

Maria's eyes met Brother Joseph's. She shook her head with sadness. “I respect you. I love the church. But this is something that you cannot forbid. It is something that must be done. There is a debt owed and the people of San Ignacio must pay it. There is more than one way to lose your soul, and if our people cannot help now, will not fight now, then surely their souls are lost.”

Ki touched the girl's shoulder, “Maria,” he began to say, “if—”

“It must be this way. Come with me or stay. I am going to speak to the people, to my neighbors and relatives and friends.” There wasn't any stopping her. She marched purposefully toward the door and, after at last backward glance, went out to the crowded churchyard.

Jessica Starbuck was smiling. “Well,” she said to Ki, “I suppose we'd better follow this stubborn woman of yours.” Ki smiled and followed along, leaving the friar to his praying.

Outside, the dancing continued. Maria walked through the twirling dancers to the spot where the band stood playing. Her hand placed across the bridge of a guitar brought the music to an awkward halt, and the people of San Ignacio turned toward her, curious, wary, or simply confused.

Maria waited until the barrage of questions quieted down, until the churchyard, bathed in white sunlight and dusty and smoke-scented, had become silent.

One person shouted, “What are you doing, Maria? Let us dance.”

“You dance while people live in chains,” the Mexican woman replied. She put her hands on her hips and leaned slightly forward, her tone scolding. “You dance while the enemy of our people runs to the safety of his fortress.”

Jessie and Ki had come up behind Maria; Diego Cardero stood beside them, silently observing. In the window above them Brother Joseph stood watching silently. A hot dry wind drifted dust across the churchyard.

“What are you talking about Maria? The
bandidos
have been defeated; the battle has been won. Let us dance for a little while, sing a bit. Let us celebrate what we have done.”

“Celebrate!” Maria spat out the word. “You celebrate while those who saved San Ignacio prepare to go into battle.” She gestured toward Jessie and Ki and toward a darkly smiling Diego Cardero.

“Tell us what you are talking about, Maria Sanchez.”

And she did. “Mono was a snake, but a snake set free by this man called Don Alejandro, nurtured by him, protected by him. Don Alejandro takes slaves from the Indian tribes and brings them south—something we have allowed by ignoring it, something we have encouraged with out fear of the slavers, or men like Mono.

“When Mono turned on San Ignacio, these three saved us—these three who should have cared nothing for our town. Yet they fought for us. Now Mono is dead. Mono is dead, but his master lives on. And you,” she said mockingly, “you would let three alone go against this desert wolf, this Don Alejandro.”

“What can we do, Maria?” a man asked.

“You can fight!”

“Fight again?” the Mexican said. “Fight with what? Fight for what cause? For San Ignacio we would fight, but what is this war about? We have families, we have—”

“You have your soft beds and your fat bellies to think of!” Maria Sanchez shot back. “I know all of this. But, my friends, you should think of your honor. You owe these people a debt of honor. You owe your souls such a debt. Stay here and dance,” she said, suddenly turning her back to the people, “or be men.”

It worked. The appeal to their manhood, to their pride, brought the men forward slowly. They asked, “What can we do? Where can we get weapons?”

Ki told them, “The dead are out there—the dead who wanted to kill you, who may one day be replaced by others who will want the same. The
bandidos
were armed. Let us arm ourselves now—those of you who will fight. Let's arm ourselves and march south before it's too late, before Don Alejandro has killed people like you—people who only want to live, to sing, to dance in the sun.”

Chapter 19

It was a ragged looking, uncertain army, but it was the best Jessie and Ki had. They moved out of San Ignacio at sunrise and started south, south toward Don Alejandro's fortress.

Maria rode beside Ki—there was no keeping the Mexican woman behind. She had a Winchester repeater slung over her shoulder; her hair was knotted at the base of her neck. Maria would fight and she, more than Jessie and Ki, knew what they were getting into.

“Once,” she said, “I saw his place. It sits atop a bluff surrounded by rocks and thickets of nopal cactus. There is only one road approaching it.”

“We'll have to give that some thought,” Ki said.

“Give it much thought, Ki,” she suggested. “Also, we have not seen the end of Don Alejandro's bandit army yet. Some of them must have been left behind to watch the slaves and to guard the house. I once told you Mono could gather an army of a hundred men if need be. How many would you guess Don Alejandro can count on?”

Ki glanced at Jessica and then looked to their own army, which trailed along behind them, carrying their weapons in all positions. It had been difficult enough to get them to fight for their own town—what were they going to do when the shooting started now?