Renegades Read online

  And he might have done that, too, if he hadn’t suddenly heard the swift rataplan of hoofbeats approaching the hacienda. That many riders didn’t come galloping out of the night without it meaning trouble.

  So he slapped his hat back on his head, whipped around the corner, and called in a low, urgent voice, “Carmen! Ben Tolliver! Better hustle, there’s trouble coming!”

  17

  Gasping in surprise, the two young people leaped ññapart, putting some distance between them. Carmen said, “¿Qué ... Señor Morgan?”

  “Morgan!” the young man with her repeated in a shocked voice. “Frank Morgan?”

  “That’s right, Ben,” Frank said. He stepped forward and grasped Ben Tolliver’s arm. “You’d better light a shuck back to wherever you left your horse if you don’t want to get caught here. I’ve got a feeling hell’s about to pop.”

  As if to prove him right, gunshots blasted out, shattering the peacefulness of the night.

  Carmen clutched at Frank’s sleeve. “Señor Morgan, you mustn’t tell my father about this!” she pleaded. “He must not know that Ben and I—”

  “You’ve got more to worry about than that,” Frank snapped as the shooting continued. “But I won’t say anything.” He gave Ben’s shoulder a shove. “Now vamoose!”

  Ben grabbed Carmen, gave her a hurried kiss on the mouth, and then turned to run into the darkness. Over toward the bunkhouse, the battle continued as the raiders swept in from the night and slammed bullets into the sturdy walls of the structure. The vaqueros tried to return the fire, but the storm of lead that came their way forced them to duck for cover.

  Frank took hold of Carmen’s arm and hustled her toward the nearby gate, assuming that was where she had slipped out of the hacienda. If he was wrong and the gate was locked, they were about to be caught between a rock and a hard place.

  But the gate swung open under his touch, and he pushed Carmen inside. “Get to your room and stay there!” he told her as he slammed the gate shut behind her. “Where’s the blasted lock?”

  A second later he found the open padlock hanging on the gate. He slipped it through the hasp and snapped it closed. Carmen reached out toward him through the wrought-iron bars and asked, “Señor Morgan, what will you do?”

  “Don’t worry about me,” Frank assured her, even as a stray bullet passed well over his head and slammed into the wall above him. “Go!”

  She turned and ran across the interior courtyard, heading for the main part of the hacienda. Frank darted along the wall toward the front of the compound, calling over his shoulder, “Come on, Dog!”

  With the shaggy creature bounding after him, Frank ran around the corner and saw the scene of battle laid out before him, illuminated by muzzle flashes and lamplight from the hacienda and the bunkhouse. He halfway expected the raiders to be Captain Estancia’s Rurales, but instead of uniforms the men wore the garb of vaqueros—or bandits. Frank wondered if they rode for the Black Scorpion.

  Some of the raiders had the ranch’s vaqueros pinned down in the bunkhouse. Others rode toward the hacienda itself, whooping and firing their guns into the air. Bullets whined over Frank’s head. He drew his Colt and was about to join in the fight, when the front gate of the compound was thrown open and someone raced out brandishing a rifle.

  It was Antonio Almanzar, Frank saw, and he knew the young man’s passion had gotten the best of his common sense. He had left the cover of the thick adobe walls to carry the battle to the raiders. Unfortunately, he was outnumbered by more than ten to one, and he would probably be cut down by gunfire in a matter of seconds.

  One of the bandits had other ideas, though. A big man with a floppy-brimmed sombrero and a poncho reined his horse toward Antonio. He had a rifle in one hand and appeared to be large enough and strong enough to fire it that way.

  Instead of gunning down Antonio, the big man raised his rifle to strike a blow Frank snapped a shot at him, but the man’s horse reared at that exact moment, causing the bullet to miss. Frank yelled, “Antonio! Look out!” but the warning came too late. The rifle barrel slashed down viciously and caught Antonio across the shoulders, staggering him and making him drop his own rifle. The big man guided his horse with his knees as he reached down and plucked Antonio from the ground as if the young man weighed nothing at all.

  Frank ran toward them, but then some of the other raiders saw him coming and opened fire on him. Bullets pounded into the ground in front of him and made him retreat. As he ducked around the corner, he saw the big man wheel his horse and gallop off into the darkness, taking Antonio Almanzar with him. A smaller man rode up to the wall and tossed something over it, then jerked his mount around and raced away.

  Thinking that the thing the man had thrown into the hacienda’s inner courtyard might be a bundle of dynamite, Frank dropped to the ground to wait for the explosion. When it didn’t come after a few moments, and when he realized that the gunfire was slacking off, he pushed himself to his feet and darted out into the open again.

  He saw that all the raiders were escaping, throwing a few shots at the bunkhouse as they did so to keep the vaqueros inside from rushing out and giving chase. Frank ran to the spot where Antonio had been captured. The young man’s rifle lay there where he had dropped it.

  “Señor Morgan! Señor Morgan!”

  The alarmed shout came from inside the wall. Frank looked over and saw Don Felipe running toward the gate, clutching a shotgun.

  “Señor Morgan, you are all right?”

  “I’m fine,” Frank said, “but they got Antonio.”

  “Aaiii! Antonio!” Don Felipe flung the gate back and ran outside. The hooves of the raiders’ horses had stirred up a cloud of dust that mixed with the haze of powder smoke. The acrid mixture filled the night air. Don Felipe stared through it in the direction of the retreating hoofbeats, which could still be heard over the angry shouts of the vaqueros. “My son!”

  Frank holstered his Colt. There was nothing to shoot at now He put a hand on Don Felipe’s shoulder and said, “One of them threw something over the wall. We’d better go see what it was.”

  Don Felipe was furious and agitated, of course, but Frank’s words made sense. With a head jerk of a nod, Almanzar turned toward the gate.

  As he and Frank went into the inner courtyard, old Esteban came scurrying out of the house carrying a torch. The mozo looked frightened, but he hurried forward as if he knew that his place was at his master’s side.

  “Over here, Esteban!” Don Felipe snapped. When the servant came up, Almanzar snatched the torch out of his hand and thrust it forward boldly, lighting up the courtyard. Frank saw the rock, about twice the size of a man’s fist, lying on the paving stones. It had a piece of paper wrapped around it and tied in place.

  “Dios mio!” Don Felipe exclaimed. “A note!”

  Frank stepped forward and bent to pick up the rock. His fingers plucked at the rawhide thong that held the paper around the irregular chunk of stone. When he had it loose, he dropped the rock. Smoothing out the paper with his hands, he turned so that the light from the torch fell over the words scrawled on it in Spanish.

  Frank didn’t read the language as well as he spoke it, since he’d never had much occasion to read things written in Spanish. He understood enough of it, though, so that he wasn’t surprised when Don Felipe said grimly, “Ransom! They have stolen my son and seek to exchange him for ransom!”

  “How much are they asking for him?”

  “Two million pesos!” The words came out of Don Felipe’s mouth in a near-groan.

  Frank did some quick ciphering in his head. He was no expert on such things, but he was pretty sure that was about the same as ten thousand dollars, American. A nice chunk of change, any way you looked at it.

  “Do you have that much money?” he asked.

  “Not here on the rancho, no. I might have half that, perhaps a little less. I could raise the other, though.” Don Felipe took the ransom note from Frank and brandished it angrily. “They
give me a week, the dogs!”

  “Can you get the cash together in that time?”

  Don Felipe nodded. “Sí, I think so. I will have to ride to Nuevo Laredo, where there is a telegraph, and send a wire to my bank in Mexico City.” In a fit of anger, he crumpled the paper. “Damn the Black Scorpion! Damn his eyes!”

  “You’re sure the Black Scorpion is responsible for this?”

  Don Felipe straightened out the note again. “There is his signature! Until now he and his men have left us alone, but now that he has struck at last, he has pierced straight to my heart!”

  Frank hadn’t seen the black-clad figure during the brief flurry of gunfire. The big hombre who had grabbed Antonio had seemed to be in charge. But that didn’t really mean anything. The Black Scorpion could have planned the raid and could have been with the men who had kept the vaqueros trapped in the bunkhouse.

  Something seemed wrong about the whole thing, though. Frank couldn’t put his finger on what it was, but he knew that something about the raid didn’t completely make sense. He would have to ponder it later, however. He had come to consider Don Felipe Almanzar a friend, and right now his friend needed help. That came first with Frank.

  “Don’t worry about the money,” he said. “I’ll go with you to Nuevo Laredo and send a wire to one of my lawyers in Denver. He can arrange a transfer of funds from one of my accounts.”

  Don Felipe frowned at him. “You have that kind of money, Señor Morgan? I do not wish to pry into another man’s business affairs, but this is very important to me.”

  “Of course it is. And to answer your question, yes, I’ve got it. My first wife was a very wealthy woman, and when she died she made sure that I inherited a great deal of money, even though I never particularly wanted it. I have lawyers in Denver and San Francisco who look after it for me, and darned if it doesn’t just keep growing.”

  “I am surprised. I thought—”

  “That I was just a down-at-heels, drifting gunman?” Despite the solemn circumstances, Frank had to grin. “I’ve found that things are more peaceful if that’s what most folks think about me. I already run into enough trouble without people knowing that I’m rich.”

  “And you would share this with me?”

  “I consider you a friend, Don Felipe. If there’s anything I can do for you, I’m going to do it.”

  Almanzar stuffed the ransom note in his pocket, then reached out and clasped Frank’s shoulder. “Muchas gracias, mi amigo. I will never forget this, Señor Morgan . . . Frank.”

  The two men met each other’s gaze squarely for a moment, and then both nodded. Nothing more needed to be said. The century might be lurching toward a new, more modern era, but there were still some true frontiersmen around. Frank Morgan and Don Felipe Almanzar were cut from the same cloth.

  “Papa?” The plaintive voice belonged to Carmen. Both men turned toward her as she came from the hacienda with lines of fright on her lovely face. “Papa, what has happened?”

  “The Black Scorpion has kidnapped Antonio and demands two million pesos ransom for him,” Don Felipe said heavily.

  Carmen cried out as if she had been struck. “No! No!” Her father went to her and slid an arm around her shoulders. “Do not worry, Carmencita. We will get him back. The Black Scorpion would not dare to harm him.”

  She shook her head and said, “The Black Scorpion strikes at us here, in our own home! He will dare anything!”

  There was nothing Don Felipe could say to that. Clearly, the bandit chief had become more audacious than ever. “Go back inside,” Almanzar growled. “There is nothing you can do.”

  “Will you go after them? Or will you pay the ransom?” Carmen clutched his sleeve. “You must not risk Antonio’s life!”

  “We will get him back safely That is all I can promise.”

  Carmen put her hands over her face and ran sobbing into the hacienda. Don Felipe looked after her and sighed.

  “I reckon you’d better post some guards for the rest of the night,” Frank suggested. “I don’t know of any reason why the bandits would come back, but it’s hard to say what gents like that might do. They can be almost as notional as Indians.”

  Don Felipe nodded “Yes, I will set out sentries. And then in the morning you and I will start for Nuevo Laredo, Frank. We can reach it in a day’s hard ride.”

  “Sounds good to me,” Frank agreed. “Since we’ll be in the saddle all day tomorrow, we’d better get some rest tonight.”

  “You are right,” Don Felipe said with a sigh. “I fear sleep will not come easy on this night, however.”

  He was probably right about that, Frank thought.

  Don Felipe went to the bunkhouse to see about posting some of the vaqueros on guard. Frank circled through one of the gardens to reach the central plaza. His room was located just off that innermost courtyard. Dog was at his heels, and once again the big cur growled to warn him of something not being right. This time, however, Frank had already spotted the shadowy figure waiting for him in the covered walkway in front of his door.

  “You shouldn’t be here, Carmen,” he said. “It’s not what you’d call proper.”

  She stepped forward enough so that the moonlight touched her tear-streaked face as she gazed up at him. She said quietly, “I am in love with the son of my father’s greatest enemy, Señor Morgan. I have long since stopped worrying about what is proper, and what is not.”

  18

  Frank stepped forward and opened the door to his room. “Might as well get in out of the night air,” he said. “I get the feeling that you want to talk, Señorita.”

  Carmen followed him inside and stood there nervously as he flicked a lucifer to life and lit the wall lamp. The yellow glow filled the room. Frank eased the door closed and turned toward her.

  “What is it you want to talk about, Señorita? Your brother being kidnapped by the Black Scorpion, or the fact that you’re in love with Ben Tolliver?”

  “How did you know? We have been so careful!”

  Frank shook his head. “Not really. I spotted Ben riding over the hill in back of the house a few evenings ago. That same night I saw you sneaking back into the hacienda after you met him. The way you were singing to yourself, I could tell you were a woman in love.”

  “But how did you know it is Ben who has captured my heart?”

  Frank shrugged. “That was sort of a guess. When I saw him ride over the hill, I got a look at his hat and could tell it wasn’t a sombrero, but rather the kind that gringos wear. That started me thinking about who might be able to ride across the border to see you. The Rocking T is the closest ranch on the other side of the river, and Ben is Cecil Tolliver’s only son. Of course, it could have been one of the Rocking T cowboys who’s been courting you, but I remembered how Tolliver made some comment about Ben dropping out of sight at times. I figured that was when he came over here.”

  Accusingly, Carmen said, “You told my father that you knew of Cecil Tolliver, but not that you had been to his ranch.”

  “I shaded the truth a little,” Frank admitted. “I suppose when you mentioned to Ben that I was staying here, he told you I’d been to the Rocking T, too.”

  “He did.”

  “But you couldn’t say anything to Don Felipe about it,” Frank guessed, “because that would have meant explaining where you got the information, and you sure didn’t want to do that, did you?”

  Carmen frowned at him but didn’t say anything, and he knew his theory was correct. He hadn’t told Don Felipe the complete truth ... but Carmen had even bigger secrets to hide.

  “Just because I’m acquainted with the Tolliver family doesn’t mean that I intend any harm to your family,” Frank went on. “But I knew of the bad blood between your father and Cecil Tolliver, even though I didn’t know the cause of it, and I figured it would be better not to mention certain things.”

  “Better for whom, Señor Morgan? What is your true purpose here?”

  That was a good question. Frank wa
s here partially because of his curiosity, and partially because the trouble on both sides of the border offended his sense of justice. After a moment of thought, he said, “I want to find out who’s really responsible for all the problems going on now between your father and Cecil Tolliver.”

  “Tolliver is a rustler—”

  “He says the same thing about your father,” Frank pointed out.

  Carmen’s chin lifted defiantly. “Don Felipe Almanzar would never steal another man’s cattle!”

  “Well, somebody is wide-looping Tolliver’s stock, and a bunch of gunmen attacked him and Ben the other day and nearly killed them.”

  A solemn expression appeared on Carmen’s face. “Ben told me of this. He said you saved their lives, Señor Morgan. I must thank you for that.”

  “Cecil Tolliver believes those gunnies who jumped them worked for your father.”

  “A lie! It is Tolliver who sends armed men down here to ambush our vaqueros.”

  “Now tell me,” Frank said, “do you really believe that the father of the man you love would do a thing like that?”

  “Well ...” Anger and doubt warred on Carmen’s face. “I remember what Señor Tolliver was like when Ben and I were young. I thought he was a good man, and a good friend to my father. It is hard to believe that he has become so evil.... But Papa is so sure....”

  “Just like he was sure something was going on between Tolliver and your mother?”

  Carmen shook her head emphatically. “You must not speak of such things! I am surprised my father even told you about what happened.”

  “But he did tell me,” Frank said, “and everything goes back to that, doesn’t it, Carmen? Before that, the Tollivers and the Almanzars were friends. Good friends. You and Ben were young, but maybe you already felt something for each other.”

  “Sí,” she said in a half whisper. “Even as children, I think we knew how we felt about each other. I . . . I always wanted to be with him.”