Scalpers (18 page)

Fox considered it; then he looked around at Ozzie, Stampeto and the Perros Locos where they stood waiting to pull out the stacks of money and sack it all up.

“Everybody, listen,” he said. “This Texan, Jep Rayburn, is going with us when we leave here. Don't none of you go shooting him thinking he's following us. He's on our side. All right? Everybody got that?”

The men stifled a laugh. They all nodded in agreement except for Ricardo Mirano, who stood holding a hand to a bullet wound in his lower side.

“How bad are you hit?” Fox asked.

“I'll . . . be all right,” Mirano said with effort.

“Then stick a rag in. If you slow us down we'll have to finish you off,” Fox said with no compassion.

“I will watch about him,” said Sergio Sega. Fox only turned away.

“
Segundo
,” he said to Stampeto, “get the money
bagged and bring it out. “We're going to run off all their horses and burn this place to the ground.”

“And I get to kill all these fools—right, Zorro?” Ozzie called out.

“Not this time, Oz,” said Fox. He turned and held his hand out to Rayburn; the Texan raised his Colt from its holster and laid it in Fox's hand. Fox nodded at the front door and followed Rayburn out onto the street.

“All of you listen good,” he called out to the miners. “We're not going to kill you. Instead we're taking your horses and leaving you with a fire to put out.” He gave Rayburn a shove toward their horses. “We're taking this one with us. I see any sign of you following us, I'll stick his head on a rock and leave it for you.”

The miners stood dead silent. Fox looked at one of the Perros Locos, Otis Seedy, guarding the miners and said, “Take him to get his horse. Watch him. He's one of them
slippery
Texans.” He gave Rayburn a wry half grin when Rayburn looked at him.

“Let's get the hell out of here, Zorro!” Ozzie shouted, he and Silvar Stampeto walking out of the shack, each with a large canvas bag of money on his shoulder.

The miners and the women stood watching as the bandits' horses thundered through the open iron gates, out of the mining complex. Fox Pridemore rode at the head of the group, Terese Montoya beside him. Ozzie, Stampeto and Jep Rayburn flanked their leader, Ozzie and Stampeto carrying the canvas money bags tied down behind their saddles. Behind them the Perros Locos herded along every horse and mule and cart donkey the mining company owned. Flames licked and swirled on every building in the complex.

“Zorro, huh?” said a bald miner with a purple gun barrel welt atop his head. He spat on the ground in contempt as the riders thundered out of sight in a rising cloud of dust. “I'd walk forty miles to see them hang real slow.”

“What about Jep Rayburn?” another miner asked. “Reckon they'll kill him when they get where they're going?”

“I wouldn't worry about Rayburn if I was you,” the bald miner said. “This bunch will be lucky if he don't kill them and take all the money for himself.”

“Yeah,
our
money,” the other miner said, staring out at the dust drifting on the air.

“Damn right,
our
money.” The bald miner stared
at the dust with a bitter twist in his lips. “I expect we'll never see any of it again.”

Once out on the trail, Fox Pridemore led the riders at a hard, fast pace for the next half hour. When they arrived at the place along the trail where they'd hidden the fresh horses they stole from Ranchero Casa Robos, they dropped from their tired horses' backs. They immediately switched their saddles and gear over onto fresh mounts and prepared to ride on. Jep Rayburn managed to strip his saddle and bridle from his tired horse and grab one of the mine horses before Ozzie and Stampeto shooed all the animals away into the hills.

“Where we headed now?” he quietly asked Terese Montoya, who stood saddling her fresh horse beside him.

“I don't know. Don't talk to me,” she whispered nervously, casting a glance in the direction of Fox and Ozzie Cord. “If my husband sees you he will kill us both.”

“Your husband, ma'am . . . ?” said Rayburn, his voice also at a low whisper. “You don't remember me, Terese, but I remember you from Poco Aldea.” He stared at her. “Your husband was a fellow by the name of—”

“Carlos Montoya,” Terese said, finishing his words for him.

“That's right, Carlos Montoya,” said Rayburn. “A big tough hombre as I recall. What happened to him?”

“What do you think?” she said with a snap, gesturing a glance toward Fox. “Shut up before you get us killed.”

“You mean ol' Zorro there killed Carlos?” he said as if in disbelief. “Had I known Carlos was that weak, I wouldn't have paid him that night.”

Terese looked at him closer. “You mean, you and me? We . . . ?”

Rayburn chuckled and shook his head.

“I swear you gals have a short memory,” he said.

Terese started to grab her horse's bridle and walk away, but Rayburn also grabbed the bridle and stopped her. “I'm not here long, honey, so listen to me,” he said quickly. “If you want to leave here with those bags of money, be ready when I make my move.” He turned loose of the bridle and took a step back. Terese stood staring at him without reply, but Rayburn saw an answer in her dark eyes.

“What the hell's taken you so long, Rayburn?” Ozzie called out from atop his fresh mount twenty feet away. “How long does it take a Texan to get saddled?”

“You don't want to be telling me how to saddle a horse,
mi amigo
,” Rayburn said with a threat to his voice.

Ozzie turned his horse angrily to step it toward him. “I will tell you any gawd-damn thing I please—” He stopped short as Stampeto put his horse between the two of them.

“Zorro says
let's ride
,” Stampeto reminded Ozzie, who had stopped a little too easily, Rayburn noted.

“Yeah,
Zorro
says ride, let's ride,” Rayburn said, a thin smile of contempt for Ozzie on his face. He cut a quick glance to Terese, who sat atop her fresh horse watching. He gave her a guarded look to
make sure she understood he wasn't afraid of anybody here.
Look at me. I'm the best chance you've got,
his eyes told her before she turned her horse away and took her place beside Fox.

“What's going on over there?” Fox asked her as she sidled her horse up to him.

“I don't know,” she said, shaking her head. Then she lowered her voice and said, “I think your amigo, Ozzie, starts trouble with everyone.”

Fox chuckled as the men gathered atop their horse to fall in behind him.

“So you don't like Oz, huh?” he said. When he saw her turn silent on the matter, he said, “It's all right, you can tell me. I won't say anything.”

“I do not like him. I do not like the evil way he looks at me,” she said.

“You're a whore,” said Fox. “What do you care how he looks at you?”

“It is true I am a whore, and because of it I know when a man likes to hurt women. This one likes to hurt women—he likes to hurt
anyone
he can. He has evil ways.” She nodded toward Ozzie, who sat with a hand resting on a bag of money tied down behind his saddle.

Fox gave a short laugh.

“Evil ways, huh?” he said. “You might want to get used to his ways. He asked me if he can be your husband when I get through with you.”

Terese looked stunned and frightened.

“What—what did you say?” she asked in a shaky voice.

Fox shrugged and stepped his horse forward. “I told him we'd have to wait and see.”

“But you won't do that, will you . . . give me to him?” Terese said, her voice weakened at the very thought.

Fox shrugged.

“I haven't decided yet, little darling,” he said. “But it's always hard to say no to a friend.”

Terrified, Terese stared to reply, but before she could Jep Rayburn rode on Fox's other side.

“Drop back now,” Fox said to her. “I want to talk to this slippery Texan—man talk,” he added with a half wink.

Rayburn gave the woman another look as she reined her paint horse back from beside Fox. He had no idea what they been talking about, yet something told him she had suddenly decided to give his offer closer consideration.

“What went on back there between you and Oz?” Fox asked him when Terese was back far enough to not hear them.

“Not much,” Rayburn said. “Just your pal Ozzie wanting to crowd a new man.” He paused and then said, “I'm glad to be riding with you, Zorro . . . especially glad to see how you set it up to the miners. For a minute there I was thinking I was a hostage.” He gave a slight chuckle.

Fox only looked at him.

“Everybody's a hostage,” he said flatly.

Rayburn didn't know how the young bandit leader meant it, but he let it go. He wasn't worried. Living or dying never worried him. He'd been around enough to know that most bad hombres were only as bad as their opportunity allowed them to be. Fox was testing him, seeing how he responded.

So take this, Zorro,
he said silently to himself.

“Good way of looking at it,” he said casually. “I've been trying to recall . . . no offense, but didn't your pa have one son who was a little slow?” He said it matter-of-factly. “I take it he'd be the one the Wolf Hearts killed?”

Fox just looked sidelong at him.

“Yeah, he would be,” Fox said, “unless you're thinking I'm slow-witted.”

“No,” Rayburn explained. “For all I know you could have had a third brother. Anyway, I said
no offense
.”

Fox nodded and gazed ahead toward a distant hill where a trail would swing them around and put them back toward the village of Big Sand.

“None taken,” he said. “It was Lucas they killed. I always looked out for him best I could. He put up a good fight, but in the end they got him—nothing I could do.”

“Sorry to hear it,” said Rayburn. “But I'm glad I asked. I was starting to think maybe Ozzie was your brother.” He studied Fox's profile, trying to see how he would take that.

Fox chuffed and said, “So you think Ozzie Cord is slow-witted?”

Rayburn didn't answer.

“I can see how you might,” Fox said. “Ozzie was riding with his uncle's mercenaries. I met him the day Lucas got killed. We became friends after that.”

“All right, that explains it,” Rayburn said.

“Explains what?” Fox asked.

“Why you let him think he's your
segundo
,” Rayburn said. “Nothing against him, but he's got as much business being your
segundo
as I have being president.” He paused and waited, unsure of how Fox would take it.

Fox gave a slight grin, staring ahead.

“Stampeto is my
segundo
,” he said. “Ozzie just keeps an eye on him for me.”

“Neither of the two could count to ten if he ever lost a finger,” Rayburn said.

“You've got guts for a new man, Rayburn,” Fox said, giving him a harsh sidelong look. “I'll give you that.”

“I'm glad to be riding with you, Zorro,” Rayburn said. “I want us to make lots of money without one of these fools getting us killed.”

“These fools just put your mine out of business,” Fox said coolly.

“It was
you leading
that made this robbery work,” said Rayburn. “I saw it all from the other side. Without you this bunch would never have made it through the gates.”

Fox fell silent for a few seconds.

“We've just got started, Rayburn,” he said finally. “I've seen you've got guts. That's why you're still
alive. Now let's see if you've got brains to go with them.”

*   *   *

It was afternoon when the Ranger rode into the mining camp. After following the hoofprints on the ground and the steady rise of black smoke for the past seven miles, he wasn't surprised to see the burnt buildings or the dead miners lying in a row covered with canvas tarpaulins. No sooner had he arrived inside the gates than an assistant mine engineer named Doyle Paulie walked up to him carrying a telescope, flanked by three armed miners. The assistant looked relieved by a closer sight of Sam's badge.

“Don't think we didn't see you coming, Ranger,” Paulie said, gesturing at the telescope in his hand. “I spotted the badge from a long ways off.” He nodded at the ashes, the debris, the skeletal shells of charred wooden structures, still smoking. “Believe me, we're watching anything that moves out there.”

“Arizona Ranger Sam Burrack,” Sam said, stepping down from the dun, the barb's lead rope in hand. He took off his dusty sombrero as he looked over at the row of bodies. “Anything I can do to help here?”

“Engineer assistant Doyle Paulie,” he said, touching the brim of his dusty bowler hat. “We're grateful for your offer, Ranger Burrack. But I believe we've got everything under control here.” He gestured a hand around toward where the payroll shack had stood. All that remained standing now was the big safe, its thick door hanging open, its
insides empty and blackened from the dynamite blast and the following fire.

“I'll tell you something you can do, Ranger,” said a half-hysterical voice of one of the women.

“Please, Molly,” said Paulie. He reached a hand out and stopped her from stepping any closer to the Ranger. But it didn't keep her from speaking her piece. “You can get that
idiot
the leader called Oz, and bring him back here to me. I'll see to it he never pees standing up again!”

“Please, Molly,” the young assistant engineer repeated.

“Oz . . . ,” the Ranger said. “That sounds like Ozzie Cord, the man I'm after.”

“He threatened to cut off my—” Molly stopped short for modesty's sake. She glanced around at the miners and held two fingers at the tip of her breast as if wielding scissors. “Do I have to say it?”

“No, ma'am,” Sam said, “I understand.” He turned back to Paulie and asked, “How far are they ahead of me?”

Paulie looked around at the others as if for affirmation, then said, “Three hours . . . four at the most?” When the miners nodded their agreement, he looked back at Sam.

Four hours. . . .
He was getting closer. He breathed a little easier just realizing it.

“If there's nothing I can do here, I'll be getting back on their trail,” Sam said.

The man nodded and said, “We've got grain and water for your horses and the women have fixed
some food. You and your horses might move faster with some food and water in your bellies.”

“Obliged,” said Sam.

*   *   *

Within a half hour the Ranger was mounted and back under way, after a hot meal of roasted elk and gravy with red beans and peppers. Before riding out he had changed his saddle and gear from the dun to the spare horse and gotten rid of most of his supplies—traveling lighter now that the end might be coming into sight. On the ground the hoofprints he was following were fresh and undisturbed. With no heavy rain or any hard sandstorms, he could have good trailing right up to Ozzie Cord's door, he told himself, wherever that door might be.