CHAPTER 36
(Ten days ago…)
Jeremy had been very tempted to accept Lucinda's offer. God knew he needed a break – although to spend the night with Lucinda might not exactly be restful. However, he had learned the hard way to listen to his instinct. This time, he felt he needed to hit the road as quickly as possible. It was with great reluctance, then, that he had declined Lucinda's invitation to stay until the next morning. Instead, he had agreed to let her prepare food rations for him and share a quick meal. While they ate, he had told her about the note he had left for Val and Scott in Tucson, giving them a rendezvous at her place. But now that he was leaving and wouldn't come back, unless with Johnny, he left her with verbal instructions for them. What he really hoped for was that their respective paths would cross, although that was unlikely. At least knowing about his plans would allow Lucinda to tell them where he was heading to and, hopefully, this time they would meet and do whatever would need to be done together.
His horse was too spent to continue so he borrowed one from his lover. As he readied his new mount, the bad feeling he had experienced earlier settled deeper in his gut. He had to hurry or else he'd be too late to help Johnny. If that was the case, he would have a hard time forgiving himself.
In a way, luck was on his side. The night sky was brightened by a full moon and the roads were well lit. Once out of Sonoyta, Jeremy followed the border as closely as he could and rode for about three hours before he stopped for the night. By this time, he had reached a small village where Val, Johnny and he had spent a few days years ago. He knew he'd be well received, even though the hour was late.
(Now...)
Johnny woke up with a start, his heart pounding furiously in his chest, his body drenched with sweat. This time, the nightmare felt much too real. It was always the same one – back when his mother died at the hands of Carlos, the last of his many stepfathers. Carlos had been the first man he had killed, out of desperation, at the tender age of 10. That day, he had left his childhood behind and had made the first step toward the road that had led him to gunfighting. The nightmares had stopped shortly after his return to Lancer but, of late, it seemed they had returned with a vengeance. Was it a sign he'd see his Mama again soon, before heading to Hell, where he belonged?
With his eyes firmly closed, he waited until his breathing returned to normal. Finally, he sat up and tried to remember happier moments, but even the memory of the short time he'd spent with Tierra didn't help. All he managed to do was think about how stupid he'd been. He was so mad at himself. If he'd not been so careless, he'd never had been caught by the mercenaries who were roaming the roads in and out of Sasabe, in disguise it had seemed, as if they had been looking specifically for him.
And if that was the case, it meant either that one of his many enemies had recognized him or that he'd been betrayed... again. But, the only people who knew about his presence in Mexico were the twins and Lucinda. And, he was sure none of them would say anything. So, that left the other girls... Or then again, that Flor's message had really been a trap but, he still couldn't believe she would have willingly betrayed him. No, something must have happened.
Still, he should never have stopped in town in the first place. What had he been thinking? And where the hell were those warning bells of his, those that resided in his head and made themselves known whenever trouble was about to find him?
He snorted. Madrid had definitely lost his edge. Not a surprise. After all, he'd spent two years living mostly as Johnny Lancer. Of course, once his presence in and around the region surrounding the hacienda had been known, he'd had to deal with men looking to attain fame by beating Johnny Madrid to the draw and dispatch him to Hell. He was still alive; guess he'd won, hadn't he? Those encounters had left more notches on his gun, invisible to anyone but him.
He remembered how mad Murdoch was at him whenever something from his past came up. For a long time, he'd thought his father was ashamed of having a killer for hire as his son. That had lead to both of them lashing out at each other numerous times. But later on, he had realized his Ol' Man was just worried sick about him and was reacting with harshness to hide his fear of losing him, this time forever. So, he'd tried his best not to let trouble find him too often. Been hard, very hard, but also very rewarding because, in the process, he had gained a real family; people who cared about him and about whom he cared. And that was the crux of his problem... now, he cared. No doubt, that's why he'd lost his edge, why he'd got caught.
Why hadn't he skirted Sasabe instead of passing through? He'd had ample provisions – Lucinda and the twins had seen to that. Hell, they had even packed a small flask of tequila; in case he went thirsty they had told him, laughing hard at his reaction to their words. So, why had he stopped?
'I need to calm myself, can't let this get to me. I need all my wits now.'
Arthur the Rat sensed his state of mind and stopped munching his chunk of hard cheese to look at his friend. Johnny laughed bitterly. "Yeah, I know, Arthur. I'm a poor sight. Okay, I promise, I ain't gonna let despair hit me again. I'm gonna be strong, I'll show El Capitán – no, El Teniente – that Madrid is still here, somewhere. And I'm gonna show the bastard how a real man meets his end, because I know he's gonna kill me. He can't let me go, not this time. The only questions being when and how... and to tell the truth, I'm not even sure I want to know."
Johnny got up and started to walk in circles again. Not much else he could do. And while he walked, he recalled what had happened in Sasabe and realized that, no matter what, he would have stopped and helped. 'Damn! You're getting too soft, Madrid, too soft!'
(Ten days ago...)
In San Diego, Murdoch only took a fifteen-minute break to eat a quick bite before the departure of the stage for Tucson. His back ached and he should have done the sensible thing, which was to stay put a few hours – a day even – and wait for the next stage. But, he had no time to spare, not if he wanted to have a chance to catch his son.
He cursed his son's folly for leaving like a thief in the night... and he cursed his bad back. Were it not for it, he'd be galloping toward Tucson instead of being forced to travel by stage. Better yet, he'd still be with Scott and Val. At the depot, while he waited, he bought another newspaper. For the umpteenth time, he wondered if he'd ever see his youngest again, alive that is.
(Nine days ago...)
Jeremy had only slept a few hours; barely enough for him to feel rested and be ready to tackle the next part of his journey. An hour or so before dawn, he'd left the small village behind and headed east, toward Esperanza and – he hoped – Johnny.
He'd have to be careful. Now wasn't the time to come face to face with the rurales and their captain or any of the mercenaries working for petty landlords such as Castaneda. Bandidos were a threat too and God knew there were plenty around.
His thoughts veered toward Val and, unsurprised, he found himself wishing the gruff sheriff was by his side. Together, they would wreak havoc, as much as Johnny Madrid could all by himself. Fighting alongside Johnny had always been kind of fun and interesting, although filled with danger. The thought of his very first encounter with Johnny made him grin – that was a perfect example of how crazy the boy was at times.
The adrenaline ran high when they roamed the roads together and, in truth, he missed that. Not that they'd worked together many times but it did happen in a few instances, mainly when Val and he had hired on as guards to protect shipments of gold and silver or a wealthy business man. Strangely enough, they had often stumbled upon a young Johnny looking for what the boy had called "normal work" between contracts. Jeremy still couldn't figure out whether it was Val or Johnny who attracted trouble more often. In fact, both were trouble magnets and both had a way with words that unnerved their opponents. No wonder they got along so well.
Thinking about all the mischief Johnny was capable of, even in dire situations, made him laugh out loud. Trouble could sure find the boy and this time it probably wasn't any exception to the rule.
(Now...)
Johnny sat down on his mattress again and dropped his head in his hands. Until he had met the peon in Sasabe, he had not encountered any problems although he had noticed a lot of comings and goings in and out of town. This alone should have sounded an alarm bell in his head but hadn't.
His intention had been only to pass through the bustling border town as quickly as possible and without attracting undue attention. What he really should have done was skirt the town, but it would have taken time and he wanted to get to Esperanza rapidly. Unless absolutely necessary, he had not intended to stop anywhere, except for brief periods of rest for both him and his horse, and away from any of the border towns or nearby villages.
He knew the area like the back of his hand, knew all the safe spots. Going through Sasabe shouldn't have been a problem and hadn't been... until he had noticed a group of men who seemed to be having a good time at the expense of an elderly peon. The poor man had triggered a memory – that of the old man he'd seen in Morro Coyo, the day following his arrival at Lancer. That day, too, he had stopped and helped. True, he had had another motive at the time. He was hoping to meet Pardee, knew he would in fact meet him. He should have known, though, that in Sasabe, it could only lead to disaster. And it had. He snickered. Once again, trouble had found him, this time through his own folly.
He had spoken up for the peon, his voice deceptively soft and the man who appeared to be the boss had laughed – a throaty laugh that reminded him of someone else, a man who had bullied him when he was younger. And, when he had looked more closely, he had realized that this man was the same one.
Of course, he had opened his big mouth to say, "Hey Fernando! You haven't changed much. Still into threatenin' kids and old people unable to defend themselves."
And the man named Fernando had looked at him hard for what had seemed a long time. Then, he had smiled as his eyes had come alight with recognition.
"I'll be damned! Is that you, Madrid?"
"Who else?"
"You sure have changed. Look at you, sporting a beard and all grown up. Makes you look older."
"Well, five years is a long time, Nando."
"Seems that life has treated you well. You're not as skinny as you used to be."
"Been lucky, I suppose... No thanks to you."
"Ah yes, that! You owe me. El Señor Castaneda wasn't very happy when he heard about your escape. And to think everything had been planned meticulously... you, losing your life blood, tied up in the desert, with a canteen out of reach just to tease you. It was perfect."
Johnny grinned. "I sure was lucky that day. Hey, he made you pay?"
"Oh yes, lost a finger because of you," Fernando had responded, showing Johnny the missing digit on his left hand. "But now that you're here again, I'm going to make sure you don't escape, this time."
"For that, you'll have to catch me and I doubt you can, seeing with who you're hangin' around – a bunch of drunkards," Johnny had said, spitting on the ground to show his contempt.
"Dios, Madrid, you still talk big, huh? Guess some things never change, particularly in your case."
With this, Fernando's left hand had come up and those Johnny had thought were drunk men suddenly weren't drunk anymore. In their stead stood mercenaries... and that's when he realized most were the same ones Castaneda had employed years ago, when Flor and her family had ended up saving his life.
Oh, he had tried to defend himself, succeeded in harming or killing four of them in the process. But, in the end, they had prevailed and he had been captured. Strangely enough, though, apart from his initial wound to the arm – a graze, really – they had not harmed him further. No, they had simply bound his hands behind his back, hoisted him on his horse and blindfolded him. At the time, he had figured they'd take him to their boss, Castaneda. He could have dealt with that, but it wasn't to be and finding out many hours after that Lopez was behind his capture, well, that was entirely different, much more complicated and deadlier.
(Ten days ago...)
They had made good time crossing the border and now, they rode as quickly as they dared, while trying not to attract too much attention. Val seemed to know where he was going, so Scott had let him take the lead. They stopped near a creek to refill their canteens and rest for a short moment.
As they were readying themselves to resume their trip, Val suddenly stopped what he was doing and looked at Scott, a frown on his face.
"What?"
"Scott, if we meet anyone, you let me do the talking, if there's any. You hear me?"
"Why?"
"I speak good Spanish, you don't. It's as simple as that."
"I speak well eno..."
"... and with a terrible accent."
Scott laughed. Thing is, Val was right. It hadn't been that hard for him to learn Spanish as it had common roots with French and Latin, two languages he knew well, even if he was a bit rusty, for lack of using them. By now, he understood well enough, so long as the people weren't talking too fast, but speaking was different. He was far better in writing and reading, better than Val, he suspected.
The young man smiled and nodded. He'd let Val have his moment of glory. Too much was at risk for him to argue with the sheriff and besides, Val was right. The sheriff's Spanish was almost as good as that of a native and, with his moustache and tanned skin, he even looked a bit Mexican. Scott had not needed his brother to understand that Val was also of mixed heritage, although it didn't show as much as it did with Johnny.
(Eight days ago...)
A few miles out of Nogalès, where a small mission coupled with an orphanage stood, a veiled woman walked toward the church and pushed the door open. Once inside, she knelt on the hard ground and crossed herself after dipping her hand in the holy water font near the entrance. She remained that way for a few minutes, head bowed, as if praying. Then, she got up and looked around the poorly furbished church.
On her left, a middle-aged priest watched her. Resolutely, she approached him. From the way his eyes smiled, she knew he had recognized her, even with a veil hiding most of her face.
"Padre Garcia, I... I need to talk to you. Would you have time?"
"Of course, dear child. Step inside the confessional, I'll be right there."
"No, you don't understand. I don't want you to hear me in confession. I need to talk to you. Can we go some place where there is no risk of being overheard?"
Padre Garcia looked at her, puzzled, but showed her through a door hidden behind some threadbare burgundy curtains that had seen better days and which led to his small two-room lodging adjacent to the church. He carefully locked the door after them and motioned her to sit at his table. To give her time to compose herself, he served her a glass of cold lemonade and took one for himself. Only then did he sit down.
"What can I do for you, my child?"
(Now...)
The door to his cell opened and once again, the same elderly servant he'd seen since he had been imprisoned came in. One of the two guards also came in while the other stayed outside.
"Move away, Mestizo. This good-for-nothing peon needs to clean your mess."
Johnny felt like jumping at the man's throat and choking him to death but it would only end up being worse for the poor servant. Instead, he moved back and waited for the peon to change his bed sheets, empty his chamber pot and give him some food. He would have liked to have clean clothes, too, but that might be asking for too much. The thought made him laugh out loud.
"What's so funny?" the guard asked.
"Nothing."
The guard approached him and Johnny moved a little further away. Not that he was afraid but he saw no purpose in antagonizing the man more.
"I don't like being laughed at, especially by one such as you."
"Wasn't laughing at you. Just some crazy idea that crept up my mind."
"You tell me now or else..." he said, raising the butt of his rifle.
"All right. Why not give me clean clothes as well, on top of the rest?"
The guard snickered. "You won't need anything where you're going, Mestizo."
The second guard stepped in and threw Johnny a relatively clean pair of trousers and a shirt. "Here it is, Madrid. And I have news for you, too. In a few days, you'll be allowed out of this cell for a thorough clean up. You know what that means don't you?"
Johnny looked at him dispassionately. He recoiled further back and dropped his head. Of course, he knew what it meant but, hearing it like this got to him more than he'd have wanted to let it show. He was glad there wasn't much light in the cell and that the guards couldn't see him well enough to notice his disgust... and a touch of fear.
"Then, why all this clean up, this time?" Johnny asked, as he raised his head and looked at the two men facing him while the old peon finished changing his bed.
"You'll see. Get changed, now!" the first guard said.
"You're gonna watch me?"
"I've seen naked men before, doesn't do anything for me," the first guard replied.
"Suit yourself," Johnny said as he removed the dirty clothes he wore and changed into cleaner ones.
Once he was done, he moved back toward the back of the cell, waiting for the guards and the servant to leave, pondering why he'd been allowed to change and what was next, aside from him being taken to his death.
(Eight days ago...)
The woman removed her veil and Padre Garcia saw her eyes were moist.
"What is wrong, Magdalena? Tell me, please."
Magdalena dropped her head and nervously wrung her hands. "He will kill him," she uttered in a voice barely loud enough for Padre Garcia to hear her.
"Who will kill who? I'm afraid you're not making any sense."
"My brother... Maria's boy."
"What do you mean exactly? I don't understand."
"My brother has captured Madrid, the famous pistolero. And he intends to kill him."
"What does it have to do with you or with Maria's boy?"
"Nothing... and everything."
TBC