Gonzales leaned in the doorway and watched the riders draw up in the yard. Baldy Kern was in the lead, and behind him came Baum, Kohler, Horan, Doctor Meline and his son. Strapped to the back of the gray horse was Hashknife Hartley, bound tightly and blindfolded.
“Hello, compadre,” called Gonzales, as he recognized Baldy.
“Hyah, Gonzales,” laughed Baldy. “How yuh comin’?”
Another horseman came into view. It was Lee Yung. He was not much of a rider, which accounted for his slower pace. They dismounted as Guadalupe came out past Gonzales and greeted them. Lee Yung and Guadalupe were old friends, and the Chinaman spoke Spanish fluently.
“What of the prisoner?” asked Guadalupe in Spanish.
And while the rest of the cavalcade listened with little understanding, Lee Yung told Guadalupe why they had taken Hashknife Hartley prisoner. It took some little time.
“And will bringing him here give you back the stuff?” asked Guadalupe.
“Perhaps,” replied Lee Yung. “There are ways of making men talk. This man knows where it is hidden. The big man over there is Doctor Meline, who disposes of what we get. The young man is his son.”
“It is good,” nodded Guadalupe. “Go inside.”
Baldy, Kohler, and Horan took the ropes off Hashknife and slid him from the saddle. He was unable to stand, unable to see through the heavy bandage; so they half-carried, half-dragged him into the house and propped him up in a chair.
His hat was gone, and the welt on his head showed plainly. But not a sound issued from his lips, although he was suffering tortures from returning circulation. His wrists were blue and swollen from the tight ropes, and his limbs twitched from the reaction.
“By God, he’s got nerve!” exclaimed Jack Meline admiringly.
“We’ll break that,” declared his father.
Baldy had caught sight of Torres, who had not moved from the table. Garcia still sat against the wall, paying no attention to the newcomers.
“So this is where you hold out, eh?” snarled Baldy.
“I’ve been lookin’ for yuh, Torres.”
Baldy went closer to him, his hand resting on the butt of his gun, but Guadalupe, sensing the danger, stepped between them.
“Not here,” he told Baldy in English. “This is no place to even scores. At this rancho, everybody is a friend. It must be that way or no one is safe.”
Baldy glowered at Guadalupe for a moment, but could see the wisdom of Guadalupe’s words.
“All right,” he growled. “I’ll catch him away from here.”
“Esta buena,” nodded Guadalupe. “But not here, compadre.”
“How’s chances to get somethin’ to eat?” asked Kohler.
Guadalupe nodded and went into the kitchen to give Lopez his orders, after which he went outside, shuffled around to the corral, where he instructed Felipe about going to Santa Isabella.
Baldy examined Hashknife’s ropes and removed the cloth from around his eyes.
“It won’t hurt yuh none to have a look now,” he grinned. “You ain’t in a place where yore eyes will do yuh much good.”
Hashknife blinked painfully, but said nothing. The bandage had been over his eyes since before he had regained consciousness, and the light hurt them.
He shut his eyes until the stinging sensation had somewhat passed, and then looked around.
He had heard enough during the trip to know who his captors were and what they had in store for him. Gonzales swaggered over in front of him and grinned widely.
“You like drink some tequila?” he asked.
Hashknife had not been long enough in the border country to know the meaning of tequila. Gonzales strode back to a table, poured a drink into a tin cup, and held it to Hashknife’s lips.
“What in hell do you want to waste good liquor for?” demanded Kohler angrily.
Hashknife gulped the big drink and thanked Gonzales with a look. Gonzales turned and scowled at Kohler.
“I pay for this tequila,” he told Kohler. “And what I pay for I use as I like, hombre.”
“Sure, sure!” interposed Baldy. “That’s all right, Gonzales.”
Gonzales drank and walked outside, where he ran into Guadalupe.
“I have just sent Felipe to Santa Isabella,” said Guadalupe.
“That is good,” agreed Gonzales. “But other things are not good. Torres stole this girl from Hawk Hole; these men are from Hawk Hole. There is bad blood between Torres and Kern. If they learn that these women are concealed here, it may not be good for us.”
“They could gain nothing by spoiling our schemes, Gonzales.”
Gonzales laughed softly and shook his head.
“Never trust a gringo,” he advised. “When their own color is concerned, they do not always count the cost. In many ways they are very great fools.”
“They will go back before the priest comes.”
“We do not know,” argued Gonzales. “They have said that this tall prisoner’s friend escaped to carry the news, and Hawk Hole will be a dangerous place for them. They will torture the tall one, in order to force him to confess, but what then? By this time there are men riding toward the border, Guadalupe, my friend.”
“What would you do?” asked Guadalupe anxiously.
“Ah!”
Gonzales stroked his mustaches and looked very wise.
“Torres is drunk,” he declared. “The girl is worth too much to become the bride of Torres. Suppose we remove the girl in the night, my friend. By morning——”
“You would take her from Torres?”
“I have seen her,” said Gonzales meaningly.
But Guadalupe shook his head quickly.
“It is a matter between you and Torres. Steve Guadalupe plays fair with all. No man can ever say that he lost by trusting me. What men do between themselves is nothing to me, but I have nothing to look back at and fear. Torres brought the girl to me, and he offers one hundred dollars in American gold for the use of a priest. I have agreed. That is my answer, Gonzales.”
Gonzales tugged at his mustaches. He knew that Guadalupe would not be a party to his scheme, because it would be a case of discriminating against one of his guests.
“Suppose we leave it to the girl,” he suggested.
Guadalupe laughed and shrugged his shoulders.
“Very well. And suppose she refuses either? What then?”
Gonzales patted himself on the chest and smiled widely. He was egotistical enough to think that any woman would be attracted to him, when as a matter of fact, Wanna would probably select Torres, as being the lesser of the two evils.
Guadalupe went back to the kitchen to hurry Lopez, and Gonzales entered the house. Torres had fallen forward against the table, his face buried in his arms—dead drunk. The men from the K-10 were grouped together, talking in undertones. Hashknife sat where they had left him, tightly bound, staring out through the open door. He had spoken no word since Kohler’s rifle barrel had laid him low.
Baldy left the group and came to him. Hashknife lifted his eyes and squinted at the boss of the K-10.
“Ready to talk?” asked Baldy.
“About what?” asked Hashknife weakly.
“You know damn well what about. We want to know what yuh done with that cargo of drugs and you’ll tell us, sabe?”
“Will I?” Hashknife smiled, but shook his head.
“Oh, yeah, yuh will,” persisted Baldy. “We’re in Mexico now in a safe place. We know how to make yuh talk, Hartley, and it’ll save yuh a lot of hell, if you’ll speak up now.”
“If yuh knew, yuh wouldn’t dare go after it,” said Hashknife easily. “I heard enough to know that my pardner got away, and he’ll sure make life miserable for you women stealers.”
“Women stealers?” asked Baldy wonderingly. “What do yuh mean?”
“I reckon you know, Kern. You go back across the line and see how quick yuh get hung.”
The rest of the K-10 gang moved in closer, wondering what Hashknife meant. Torres lifted his head slightly, a drunken grin on his lips. Gonzales scowled. He did not want that outfit to know about the girl.
“What women are you talking about?” demanded Doctor Meline.
“Big Medicine Hawkworth’s wife and daughter.”
“Well, what about ’em?” snapped Baldy.
“You ought to know, Kern. You helped search the Tumbling H ranch-house and kidnap the women.”
“That’s a damn lie!”
“Oh, all right.”
Hashknife shut his lips tightly.
“Let’s get this straight,” said Jack Meline, crowding in closer. “You say that Mrs. Hawkworth and Wanna have been taken away, Hartley?”
“Who done it?” asked Baldy. “By God, we didn’t!”
Hashknife knew that they were telling the truth.
In fact, he doubted that they had from the first, but wanted to be sure.
When Hashknife refused to talk any more, Baldy’s eyes fastened on Torres, and he walked over to the hunched figure.
“Where’s the woman and girl, Torres?” he asked.
“Quien sabe?” grunted Torres. “I know nothing about women.”
“Why all this talk about women and girls?” asked Gonzales. “Are they your friends, Kern?”
“They are not,” denied Kern. “I don’t care a damn who took ’em, but I don’t want the blame.”
“You’ll have a mighty short time to protest yore innocence; if yuh go back across the border,” said Hashknife.
“Aw, shut up!” snarled Baldy. “Damn yuh, you won’t live to enjoy it, anyway.”
“Mebbe not,” Hashknife smiled softly. “Yuh never can tell. I’ll die when my time comes and not before, Kern. Yore mistake was in lettin’ my pardner get away. The Tumblin’ H outfit were waitin’ in Pinnacle for him, and I’m bettin’ that most of the town is with ’em now.”
“You fool!” snarled Kohler. “This is Mexico. They won’t dare cross the line.”
“You crossed it, didn’t yuh?”
“Well, we——” Kohler floundered.
“Would Big Medicine care about the border?” asked Hashknife.
Doctor Meline swore viciously and turned away. Lopez was coming in with dishes of food and placing them on a long table.
Baldy walked over and sat down at the table. Meline followed and sat down beside Baldy.
“There’s a lot of truth in what he says,” declared the doctor. “We have made a serious mistake, Baldy. For the price of one cargo we have jeopardized our future. We can’t afford to be found here.”
“Well, hell, we can’t go back.”
“I can at least,” said the doctor nervously. “No one knows that I am with you, that I ever came to Hawk Hole.”
“Gettin’ cold feet, eh?” sneered Baldy. “Hey! Steve! Bring us some tequila. My friend has a chill. C’mon and set down, the rest of yuh. What the hell are yuh all lookin’ so blue about? By God, I didn’t know I was workin’ with a lot of sheep.”
“I’m not afraid,” declared Jack Meline, “but I’d give quite a lot to be out of this damn country and on my way back to Frisco. It surely don’t look good to me.”
“Soak up some tequila and the world will look brighter.”
Guadalupe was generous with his liquor, and they attacked it with a will. Tequila is potent liquor, and its full effect comes suddenly. Gonzales sat at the far end of the room, drinking alone, thinking deeply. His two men remained outside, each of them half-asleep. Torres still appeared to sleep at the table, while Garcia still squatted against the wall, half-covered with his serape.
The tequila seemed to have the desired effect, and those at the long table became jovial. Even Doctor Meline forgot his fears and matched drinks with the rest of the crowd. Guadalupe sat down with them and helped drink some of his own liquor.
The liquor gave them prodigious appetites and they did justice to the simple and none too clean cooking of Lopez. No one offered Hashknife food nor drink and he asked for none.
It was growing dark now, and Lopez brought in a lighted lamp for the center of the table.
“How about stickin’ a guard down the trail?” asked Baldy. “We don’t want somebody runnin’ in on us, Steve.”
“I have none,” said Guadalupe. “Felipe is gone. Perhaps I might have Lopez watch the trail.”
“I send my two men,” offered Gonzales, and went out to them.
“That’ll make me set easier,” declared Baldy. “Let’s have a few more bottles, Steve. I feel like a bird tonight.”
“And we have some work to do presently,” said Meline, nodding toward Hashknife. “But that can wait.”