La Carta Chapter Ten: To Tortuga Mine

As Ruiz and Rodrigo had expected, the trail was cold. They circled the area on horseback, making each arc a little wider than the last. More than half a mile out Rodrigo spied tracks in loose dirt beside a large outcropping of granite. Smaller formations were wedged among massive boulders, quartz in the rocks glinting in the sun. A good hiding place, Rodrigo concluded. His eyes swept the horizon. And a clear shot to where Mano had been. Rodrigo dismounted, tied his horse to a creosote bush, and climbed up into the rocks.

"Papá!" he called, moments later. "Ven aquí, por favor."

"What is it, Rodrigo?"

Ruiz tethered his horse beside his son's and picked his way among the rocks. A small clearing opened behind the granite formations, with trees and brush behind.

"Mira, Papá," Rodrigo pointed to the ground in the clearing. "Tracks. In different directions. There were several horses, but one remained. His horse scuffed his toe while waiting, so he must have been here a long time."

Ruiz regarded the dent in the earth made by a horse's hoof. "Shod. Not Apache then."

"No, Papá, but then I don't think either of us believed it would be Apache."

"No, indeed. Let us backtrack and see from where they came. Vamonos."

The two men descended and mounted their horses, covering the ground at a brisk trot so as not to waste time as they followed the tracks. They continued this way until it was too dark to see, when they made camp, both conscious that one day had already been used up.

The next morning, at first light, they continued their journey and by mid-morning they found the remains of a camp beside a stream filled with mountain run-off. As they walked through the abandoned camp, they talked.

"They were here for some time, Papá," Rodrigo said, gesturing to piles of ashes. "There were several fires and here are the remains of cooking."

"Yes, my son, they have camped here before, and I think I know who they are. Comancheros. This is a favorite haunt of those mala gente."

"Ah sí, I remember. We once encountered Miguel here, I believe, Papá."

"Sí. El Lobo, too, has camped here in former times. This is certainly a group of comancheros, but who is in charge is still not clear." Ruiz looked around him.

"Where do you think they have gone, Papá?"

"The tracks head over the border. Could be any place. A village. Possibly even the old Tortuga mine," Ruiz speculated.

"Tortuga mine? Isn't that where Manolito once led that band of gringos to capture El Lobo?"

"Exactamente! It is this which makes me think El Lobo may be involved this time."

"But he did not shoot Manolito?"

"No, I do not think so. It is not his style to shoot from a distance. He usually likes to face his enemies and watch their eyes when he kills them," Ruiz replied.

"Sí, es verdad!"

"Well, we have learned much," Ruiz said, his voice pensive, then decisive. "We must ride back now. You to Don Domingo and I to the rancho to fetch a wagon. I will bring it to the base of the trail where we left our horses yesterday. I will signal with the call of the cactus quail. You must listen for this. I will return as quickly as I can, but it will be at least a day, maybe more."

"Sí Papá, I will be ready and I will have Manolito ready, also. I will tell Don Domingo of what we have found and of your signal, and we will be ready."

"Bueno, my son."

The return journey proved much quicker, since they could ride most of the way at a steady lope. They parted at the spot where Manolito had been shot, and Ruiz continued to Rancho Montoya alone.

"I'm telling you, Brother John, they's banditos hiding up there at the old Tortuga mine," Buck Cannon insisted as the two men stood in John's study after he and the boys had driven the cattle back up to the Chaparral.

"Buck, you're letting your imagination run away with you."

"I didn't im-ag-ine them tracks, John. Large as life they was."

"Well, I don't know, Buck, seems like a fool's errand to run down there just on the off-chance someone's hiding out."

"It ain't no off-chance John. I jes wish you trusted me enough to know I wouldn't make this stuff up!" His face was flushed and his breathing harsh with the effort of getting through to his brother. They didn't make 'em no tougher, ornerier, or more stubborn than you, Brother John, Buck thought.

"All right, Buck. All right," John sighed. "Take it easy. I believe you. Now, let's decide what's best to do about this."

"Well, aw right then John, let's!"

"I think you should send for that marshal again," chipped in Victoria, who had been standing unobserved in the doorway. Her hands were on her hips, her chin high.

"I don't know that we can send for him agin, Victoria. We don't know fer shore they's anybody up there, yet."

"Buck, you just got done persuading me that there is. Are you saying you're wrong?" John's voice got louder with each word.

"Madre mía!" Victoria exclaimed, gesturing at them both. "Are you two going to fight again? And over who is right and who is wrong? All the time you waste doing this, could mean life or death to someone if there are banditos in that mine, could it not?"

"Victoria's gotta point, John."

"She certainly does" and John smiled at his exasperated wife. He watched her eyes flash, then, as she drew a breath and looked away, calmer, he noticed her eyelids flutter. She looked at him sideways with the beginnings of a smile. Both husband and wife were amused.

"You know, John, might even be El Lobo down there," Buck added, resting his foot on a chair seat and leaning in.

"Lobo?"

"Yep. Last time me an' Mano saw him, we was helping the good sisters git to Tombstone. He wasn't too happy with us then. Last I saw he and his men was bein' chased by the Apach."

"What did he come after you for?"

"Well, I wasn't too sure 'xactly what had gone on before, but I think Mano may a helped hisself to some o' Lobo's money. Lobo prob'ly stole it, of course. An' Lobo had robbed Sister Ellie."

"Hmmm. Never did get the whole story outta Mano, I guess."

"Not the whole, Brother John," Buck grinned, although he reckoned Mano'd told him most of it. Victoria rolled her eyes and shook her head.

"Well," John said. "Let's send Reno to Tucson. He can wire Marshal Packer and wait for the reply. If Packer's willing to come down on a 'fishing' trip, well and good. Meantime, I guess we'd better saddle up and see what we can do by ourselves, without breaking the law."

Buck grinned and winked at Victoria, who lifted her chin and smiled back at him for good measure, a twinkle in her eyes.

The men saddled up and headed for Tortuga mine as Reno lit out for Tucson. Sam, Joe, Pedro, Ira, Arrigo and a couple of others followed John and Buck out through the gate. Other hands stayed behind to guard the ranch house and Victoria. John figured the Apaches wouldn't try anything now, while most were still up in their stronghold. Spring was supposed to be late. It would not be too long till they started coming down, but he foresaw no immediate trouble. He left the boy Wind behind, just in case. If anyone knew Apaches, it was Wind...and of course, Mano. And Wind would do anything for Victoria, he knew.

Camp that night in a dry wash was a cold one. They didn't want to waste time with lighting and putting out fires. John posted a single guard for half the night; the man was relieved by another hours later. Sam made sure everyone was saddled and ready to go before dawn, so they could make tracks in the chill of the early morning. By early afternoon, they arrived at the little creek that marked the trail into the Tortuga mine. There they made camp and began to make plans.