The two riders tied their mounts behind the Columbus Jail in a dimly lighted area used to store harness and wagon wheels. The old adobe building, with its three small rooms, had been built during quieter times to handle the occasional small town drunk. The night was overcast and dark. They entered through the back door. It was unlocked. In the dimness, they walked past the two empty cells before they saw light through the barred window of the door leading to the front offices. The light was above Constable Arnold's desk. The door was ajar. The two men quietly opened it and stepped lightly into the small room.
Arnold looked up and smiled. He had been waiting. “Well now, I was about ready to give up on you, Washington,” he said, watching them come through the door. “Who's your buddy?”
“Carlos. He works for us,” Daniel said quickly. “You wanta talk about a deal?”
“Maybe. It depends,” the constable told him.
“Depends?” Daniel responded. “Depends on what? That's not what you said in the message.” The younger man leaned over the constable's desk in a threatening manner.
“Depends on what you have that I can use. That's what.” Arnold said, looking the two over carefully. He saw that the Negro was unarmed, but he couldn't tell about the other man. “Your message said you was coming in to give yourself up. You got something to say, say it.” His right hand dropped to the butt of his pistol.
“I never sent you a message.”
Carlos stepped away from the young Washington.
“What's this? Some trick?” Daniel asked. He turned to look at his companion.
“Constable,” Carlos said, stepping behind the large desk to stand beside the lawman. He reached behind his back.
“What the hellâ¦?” Arnold looked up at the Indian, surprised. Then he pulled his gun and slid the chair back to stand. “Hold it, amigo,” he said to Carlos as he started to rise from the chair.
A hand reached over to hit the light switch. The jail went dark.
*
James arrived at the old jail, surprised to find it silent and dark this early in the evening. Someone had to be on duty. He peered through the dirty front window but couldn't see anything.
He then stepped back to survey the building. The front door was slightly ajar. Harrison reached for his Colt as he stepped into the darkened building. The floorboards creaked beneath him.
*
“Daniel,” Carlos was whispering in the dark, holding the constable's pistol. âVenga!” Then they heard a noise. Someone comes, Carlos thought. Both men froze in the darkness.
“Constable,” Harrison called softly. He felt for a light switch, but couldn't find one on the wall near him. His fingers gripped firmly around the Colt. “Anyone here? Constable? Deputy?” he called again.
He thought he heard a noise in the back of the building near the cells. Holding the automatic out in front of him, Harrison moved forward slowly and carefully into the deeper darkness beyond. He found the door to the constable's office open. He took a breath, then slid quickly through in a crouch. He felt as if all the air had been sucked out of the room. A bit of starlight shone through the narrow cell window, highlighting a corner of the constable's large desk.
Harrison moved toward that spot. Before he could reach it, the toe of his boot caught against something. He bent down to touch it with his fingertips. Soft. A man's leg. Kneeling, he lightly moved his free hand over the prone figure. A large man. No pulse. Still warm, but he wasn't breathing. Harrison touched the man's head. There was blood on top, in his hair. The man's skull had been shattered. It felt soft. Blood still trickled down to form a pool on the floor
Harrison remained in a crouching position, his pistol pointed ahead with the safety off. He began inching back to the office doorway, but saw something move in the shadows across the room. He raised the Colt. In the far corner, behind the deskâhe was sure it was a man.
“Don't move!” Harrison yelled. Light from the window reflected off a gun barrel.
There was a clicking sound. In the stifling quiet of the room, it was the unmistakable cocking of a revolver.
James instinctively fired off two rapid shots. His target fell backward, firing his weapon into the ceiling as he disappeared.
I've got to get the hell out of here, James thought. Still holding his pistol out in front, he continued to move back toward the door to the front office. A board creaked. He turned to shoot, but he was struck from behind before he could fire. The hard blow across his wrist jarred the Colt free. Another caught him across the back of the neck. His knees buckled and he collapsed to the floor. Harrison fought to stay conscious. Flashes of pain shot up his neck and burst in his head. Stay awake, he ordered himself. He moaned at the pain.
He heard his assailant run across the wooden floor and out the back.
With his other hand, Harrison swept the area around him for the Colt. He found it and struggled to his feet. With his left arm he wiped the blood from the gash. In the outside light coming through the open backdoor, Harrison saw his assailant mount a horse. He struggled to reach the door, but too late. The man was already riding west down the almost deserted street.
“Stop him!” Harrison yelled. “Murderer!”
One horse was still tied to the post. He reached for the reins and mounted. Unsteady from the blow to his head, Harrison nudged the animal with sharp kicks in the flanks. The horse responded immediately, and Harrison pointed him west.
A deeper darkness began to overtake him after leaving Columbus, but he recognized a faint smudge that was a horse and rider ahead as a sliver of moon broke through. They were riding across an area south of Tres Hermanas. With a pounding head and arm, Harrison continued the pursuit. Turning south off the road, the rider ahead led him into a dry riverbed with large rocks strewn about. To avoid being ambushed, Harrison was forced to dismount and leave his horse. He walked carefully forward, his weapon in his one good hand.
James heard a boot scrape on a rock above. He turned, looking up, then raised the Colt with safety off. He saw no movement.
A figure leaped onto him out of the darkness, like a panther. Harrison fell, struggling to throw the man off. Overpowered, he was struck hard again on the side of his head. A deeper darkness rushed in on him.
Harrison first heard the wind as a humming in his ears. His head pounded. The space behind his eyes throbbed steadily, sending waves of pain down through his body. His right arm would not move, so with his left he reached up to touch his face, then the back of his head.
He felt dried blood. Moving his hand across his scalp, he felt another lump over his ear covering a large, jagged gash, again caked in blood. Slowly, his right eyelid opened, then his left. The first thing he saw was the hazy, deep blue sky. “Alive,” he muttered. He struggled to sit up, but couldn't.
What day? The question formed in his mind as he tried to focus. Slowly, the pain subsided a little. His vision sharpened. He tried again to get up, and finally, with great concentration, got to his knees. But after a moment, he went down on all fours to regain his balance.
Get to the rock. With a fierce will, he forced his body to move. On all fours, he swayed toward a large boulder.
Bracing himself with his back, Harrison pushed upward against the boulder until he stood. He was shaky, but standing. Looking around, he saw the three peaks that were Tres Hermanas. Must be north, he thought. I'm close to the border, west of Columbus. Head still throbbing, he looked southeast, to face the morning sun. Nothing, as far as he could see. Not even a dust cloud. To the south and west the terrain appeared more ruggedâgullies, canyons, more mountains. He knew that already. Best to walk east, Harrison thought. He sat again in the shadow of the boulder to gather his strength. “You'll walk,” he told himself finally. “You'll rest 'till nightfall, then follow the stars.”
Harrison's mouth was dry. He sat, feeling the dull, constant ache in his head and right wrist. Swallowing hard, he remembered Juan's warnings about the dangers of being on foot in the desert. Look for land marks, and don't let the distances fool you.
When the day finally dissolved into desert starlight, Harrison, feeling better, began to walk. His gait improved as he established a shuffling rhythm. The stars guided him.
After an hour, he found himself on the weathered rim of a dry gulch. He stopped to rest and check his course. The stars seemed to be in the correct position. A distant light he'd seen ahead seemed to be larger.
Harrison looked down into the ravine. In the moonlight he thought he saw horse tracks in the pale sand. He slid down the embankment and felt them in the sandy soil. “They're still soft,” he whispered hopefully. He couldn't tell how many, but they led down the ravine in two directionsâeast and west. Harrison started walking toward the east. His strength was fading, and a raging thirst began to overpower him. Long before the sun broke the desert darkness, Harrison had collapsed. He lay in the ravine, fighting to stay awake. His mouth was parched, and he could swallow only with difficulty. “Get up,” he ordered in a raspy whisper through cracked lips. Standing slowly, he managed only two reeling steps before collapsing again, body sprawled full length in the sand. He thought of cool water, the ice of Lake Michigan, and of his brother.
*
Harrison awoke slowly, surrounded by darkness. The desert ravine was gone, and there were no stars above him. He struggled with his body and was able to move first his arms, then his legs. I'm in a bedâ¦with linen sheets, he thought, touching the covers. They were soft against his sunburned skin.
He carefully raised his right arm to his eyes. The bandaged wrist was sore and swollen from the blow he had received in the jailhouse. Then he touched the cotton swathed around his whole head, above his eyes. His eyes had adjusted to the darkness. He looked around the room.
Harrison recognized that large, unshuttered, open window. He was in Maria's bedroom.
Stretching out one leg, then the other, he felt the floor of polished hardwood. It was real. He tried to stand. Wobbly at first, with the aid of a bedpost Harrison managed to balance on both feet. He reached out for the wardrobe against the wall. “That wasn't so difficult,” he told himself. “Now see if you can navigate to the door.”
Finding the knob was easy. Standing naked in the darkness of the room, he hesitated, then opened the door.
The first thing he saw in the lighted hallway was Maria walking toward him, carrying a tray of bandages and ointments. She stopped and looked him over from head to foot. Then she smiled that lovely smile. But Harrison saw the tears in her eyes.
“Harry, you have come back to me,” she said, still standing in front of him. “For a while, we did not know. You have spent many hours between the living and the dead.” She set her tray down on the floor to assist him.
He felt her strength under his arm as she helped him back into bed. They both looked down. She smiled and kissed his lips. “We have plenty of time for that, my love. But first, we get you well again.”
“What happened? Maria, how did I get here?”
“Harry, there is much to tell, but firstâ¦.”
“No. Now, Maria,” he demanded. The exertion made his whole head throb.
“Harry, I will tell you when you are better. So lie down,” Maria commanded. She removed the old dressings, then began to clean and re-bandage his wounds.
He fell asleep with the taste of salt on his lips from swallowing small teaspoons of warm broth. He dreamt of the desert and of Maria's beauty.
*
With several more days of bed rest and constant attention by Maria, Harrison's strength returned. At night, they made love in the warm darkness. At first, their lovemaking was slow and careful. Maria would rest astride him, moving over him in a slow rhythm. As his strength returned, their joining became more physical and passionate.
She would not answer any of his questions. She would only say that the time was not yet right. “Get stronger, Harry,” she would say.
When Harrison awoke before dawn one morning a week later, he was surprised to find she was not beside him. He hastily threw on his shirt, trousers, and boots.
Opening the door, he peered down the staircase. He saw light and heard voices coming from her study, the command center for her smuggling operations.
Quietly, he walked down the stairs and made his way toward the room. He thought he overheard the voice of Maria's brother above the rest. “Vayámonos, Maria,” he said.
“Tranquilo, hermano!” she responded in her strong voice. “Yo soy el jefe ahora.”
“Pienso que el gringo, James, ese una problemaâuna problema grande. Es la verdad?” Daniel responded coldly, still in Spanish. “You put him above everything. We can all see this,” he reverted back to English.
“Es su problema, hermano. Por que hombre?” she snapped back. “Are we murderers now?”
Harrison was unable to understand all the words, but he heard his name and that was enough.
“I would like to hear the answer to that question myself,” he said, swinging the door open to stand in front of them.
“Ahh, the gringo,” Daniel responded with open contempt. “The last time I saw you, gringo, you were stalking the shadows. Who did you think you were hunting, eh?”
Harrison went for the younger man in one swift, flowing motion. His eyes were blue flame. He saw only Daniel.
“Wait!” Maria stepped in front of him, but she could not stop him. Harrison picked her up and swung her aside as if she were a doll. “Mr. Jones, José,” she commanded. There wasn't the slightest hint of fear in her voice. “Ayude me!”
Harrison lashed out, his fists a blur. Daniel's head snapped back. Blood poured from his nose. The younger man had no time to react to the barrage of fists. Then the other two men were on James. José caught his right arm in mid air while Mr. Jones, from behind, reached for the other. With some effort they were able to subdue him. At first, Harrison struggled, raging at them. But he gave in as he slowly regained his sense.
“Let me go!” he ordered finally. Neither man responded.
The old man's eyes were wary.
“You want to get even, eh, gringo?” Daniel said, smiling. He wiped blood from his nose and mouth.
Mr. Jones knew that Daniel was too young and inexperienced to be afraid of this man, even now.
“Harry, will you listen to me?” Maria asked, now standing directly in front of him. “No more fighting?”
“No more fighting,” he replied. “Tell them to let me go.”
She nodded and they released him.
“Now, I will tell you what you want to know, but firstâ¦.” She turned to her brother. “Daniel, clean yourself and get ready to travel. Mr. Jones, take the men and make the preparations.”
The three men departed. José was the last to leave the room, reluctant to leave Maria with the angry white man. He kept his hand on the small caliber revolver in his pocket as he spied on the two who remained in the study. Only when he was certain the threat was past did he leave the house.
Harrison sat down in the great chair. Maria sat on the desk, waiting.
“Maria, why did your brother almost kill me out in that damn desert,” he asked.
“It was a mistake,” she told him. “You were in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
“Accident?” Harrison was still very tense. “Did your brother kill the constable?” James asked.
“Daniel said it was an accident but, before he realized what had happened, you came. They hid when they heard you.”
“Your brother and somebody else just happened to come to the jail and accidentally kill the constable? Who was the other person?”
“It was Carlos,” Maria answered. “Daniel did not kill the constable. He went to talk with him. Daniel swore it to me,” she said, visibly upset. “My brother is not capable of murder.”
“He was capable of hitting me, Maria.” Harrison rubbed his scalp.
“He thought you were going to kill him.”
“Why did he think that?”
“Daniel said he was hiding when you came and started firing.” She sighed sadly. “He says he did not want to hurt you. But when he saw you shoot Carlos he knew he had to stop you or be killed himself.”
“That man clearly tried to kill me, Maria,” he said softly. “I shot Carlos, then?”
A single tear rolled down her brown cheek. “Daniel was very angry, but he did not want to harm you. He left quickly after he struck you. You chased him into the desert.”
“So Daniel hit me twice?” he asked. “How did I get rescued?”
“Juan Parilla came to the hacienda the next morning. He told me he saw you ride into the desert. We waited for darkness to come again, but you did not come. We went to find you, Harry. We searched over many miles. I was almost crazy with you and Daniel missing, and the constable murdered.”
“And Daniel? Where was he?”
“He did not return to the hacienda until two days later. After we found you, Daniel rode in and told us what happened.”
“I see,” he said, thinking about Daniel that night. “How did Juan know that I was out in the desert?”
“Juan, he followed you when you rode west out of town,” Maria said. “He saw you were riding for the mountains. He tried to catch you, but he lost your trail in the rocks. When he could cross the border, he came here.”
“Daniel did not know it was you,” she repeated tearfully.
“What difference does that make, Maria? If not me, who then? The deputy? He left me out in the desert,” Harrison said. “You can't always protect him.” His temper flashed. “You know what could have happened to me out there.”
She smiled sadly, hopefully. “It was not your destiny to die in the desert.”
At that moment, Harrison realized completely that he loved her. He could not hurt her. “What happened in the jail?”
“It was a trap.” Maria looked at him sadly. “My brother told me.”
“A trap for who?”
“For Daniel. To arrest him for smuggling, I think.”
“Why was I told to be there?” James asked. “The constable sent me a message to come to his office.”
“I don't know,” she went on. “I don't understand why the constable wanted you to come at the same time that they were there.”
“Daniel didn't know I was coming?”
“No, Harry. My brother did not know. You were there when my brother was to meet with Constable Arnold.” Maria walked over to sit on the arm of the big chair. She touched his hair with her fingers. “My brother went to Columbus to speak with him about a deal he offered us. Then there was a fight, and the constable was killed. Daniel said Carlos fought with the constable.”
“But why was I supposed to be there,” Harrison wondered. He paused. “A deal? What kind of deal?”
“The constable sent us a letter. He offered to give Daniel and me pardons if we came to Columbus. He wanted information about who smuggles rifles out of the armories and across the border.” She pulled a letter from the desk drawer. “We received this note from Columbus. It was delivered to Las Palomas by messenger. See for yourself.” Maria handed the envelope to James.
“So why take that risk by crossing the border? You knew it could have been a trap.”
“It is time to stop this work. It is too dangerous. And now profits will be small,” she said. “I was going, but the letter states that Daniel should represent me. The constable wanted to speak with my brother only. Carlos and Mr. Jones insisted that I stay here. So I consented. Daniel is a man now and can handle these things.”
“And was Carlos invited to Columbus by the constable?” Harrison asked.
“No. But he was always with Daniel, for safety. He said he would go to protect my brother.”
“Did Arnold know Carlos would be with Daniel?”
“No,” Maria answered.
“I received a note also,” Harrison said, examining the envelope. He read her note slowly, to compare the handwriting with that from his note.
“This writing is not the same as in my message. Here the penmanship is very poor and there is no signature, only the initials, A.A.” He looked at her. “I think you've been tricked.”