Lady Luck Chapter Two: Mano Talks
Outside, Mano hastily saddled Macadoo. Buck ambled over, his own saddle slung across his shoulder as he headed for Rebel. Mano's eyes narrowed to slits. He spoke through gritted teeth, his lips compressed, moving little.
"Compadre..."
"Amigo mío, you don't think you is goin' into Tucson a-lone do you?"
"Buck…." Mano began, cut short by a wave of Buck's hand.
"No side-steppin', Mano. If you be goin' to Tucson, then I be goin' to Tucson. You got that, amigo?"
Mano sighed, shook his head, and flashed a weary smile, "Ay yi yi. Pues, sí, porque no?"
Buck matched his grin, slapped him on the back and within minutes they galloped out the front gate into the twilight, kicking up dust clouds in their wake.
They eased their horses to a gentle lope when they could no longer see the ranch. Mano said nothing. Buck was smart enough to know that if he let Mano stew long enough, whatever was eating him would come out, with the help of a little tequila.
Things were slow at El Toro Loco. Buck and Mano tied their horses to the hitching rail and banged through the swinging doors of the saloon. A friendly poker game had commenced at a side table. One cowpoke snoozed, legs propped up on a nearby chair. No girls in sight. Probably upstairs. No one nodded, raised an eyebrow, or even looked up as Mano and Buck strode to the bar.
"Tequila for my friend and partner, Mike!"
"Sure Buck. Red-eye for you?" Mike grinned, already pouring the drinks.
"Hey Mano, wanna drink?" Buck slid the glass over to his amigo who leaned against the bar. Mano nodded as he picked up the tequila and made for an empty table in the corner. Buck followed hard on his heels, and both sat down without saying a word. Buck cocked his head to one side and stared at his friend, waiting.
Mano settled back in his chair and sighed, looking at Buck from underneath his hat which all but shaded his eyes. "All right. I will tell you. But you have to promise not to repeat this to your brother, and never to Victoria." Mano's eyes were flat, his lips a thin, straight line. Buck nodded his agreement. This had to be one helluva of a story.
"Buck you know that I have not always lived a, cómo se dice, clean life?" Mano began.
Buck's teeth shone like pearls in the dim corner of the saloon.
"It is not funny, amigo!" Mano allowed himself a slight grin.
"Ay yi yi! Why do I do these things? I was young and the French had closed the university. I should have gone home, but, well, you know Papa. I drifted. I met a gringo, around the same age as I, drifting, like me, not taking life very seriously."
"Like you," Buck interrupted with a grin.
"Sí, hombre. Just like me. His name was Dave Redmond and for a while we rode together. We were a little wild, we stole horses, we stole…. well, never mind what we stole. As I said, we were a little wild and we became good friends. My mother grew ill and I returned to the Rancho Montoya. I never knew what became of Dave until I, what shall I say, until I arrived in Stokertown. I never even heard his name again."
"Yeah, but how you come to be a-rrested?"
"Ah yes, I need to start at the stage. Very well. I had finished canvassing cattle buyers and was on my way back to the rancho when I saw, down at the bottom of an arroyo, two men holding up a stage. I was too far away to do anything about the robbery, but I could watch. The driver shot one of the thieves. The other one grabbed the money sacks and headed down the trail. I knew I could cut him off if I doubled back, so in the spirit of good citizenship, I did this thing. I stopped him cold and relieved him of his ill-gotten gain. However, he did not want to be captured and he judged—correctly of course—that I would not shoot him in the back, so he rode off."
"He ran out on you?" Buck got tickled and couldn't contain his laughter. "He ran out on you?!"
"Gracias, compadre," Mano said unamused, lips tight.
"Sorry, Mano, awful sorry—it warn't that funny." Buck looked down and cleared his throat to stem his laughter.
"Well, I was hot, dusty, dry, and quite dirty. I did not want to appear in the town in that condition, especially when I was going to be the hero of the hour, returning the money. So I stopped at a water hole to clean up. I had, foolishly as it turns out, taken off my gun belt and laid it next to the sacks of money. As I was drying my face, eh, here come the town marshal and posse. I bent to pick up the money to give to them. They mistook my intent and the next thing I knew I was led into town at gunpoint. I was the bandito!"
Buck laughed to himself. Big John was right. Mano sure could git hisself into one scrape after another. Buck shook his head and grinned.
Mano glanced sideways at his friend and took a long swallow of his drink. The tequila slid warmly down his throat. Caramba, but this tale might be the death of him. At least if he explained it to Buck this would prevent others from asking. Buck would ward them off.
Mano continued. "I told you about the half blind stage driver at dinner. You have seen Roy. Really? Do I look like him?"
"Spittin' image!" Buck guffawed.
"And the marshal mentioned the name of Dave Redmond. That gave me some hope. If it was the same Dave that I knew and he was somebody important in town, then maybe he could, how do you say, vouch for me."
"Well, was it him, amigo?"
"Sí."
"Well, what did he do? Did he come see you?"
"Sí."
"Mano we ain't gonna get too far if all you kin say is 'sí.'"
Mano shook his head, blinked twice, and sighed. He shifted in his seat and looked Buck square in the face.
"Yes, Dave Redmond was indeed the Dave of my youth. We exchanged stories. The years fled. It was as if we had just run into each other in a cantina…only no tequila. He said he believed my story. He promised to talk to the marshal and took him outside to do so. I waited. Some minutes later the marshal came back and said that Mr Redmond...so strange to hear him called that...that he was sure I was not the robber and as the money had been returned, there was no need to keep me locked up. He said that Dave had asked to see me at the bank once I was released. Naturally, I wanted to thank him. Such a wonderful thing he had done for me."
"So you went over to the bank. Now, this Stokertown. I ain't never heared o' that place."
"The town…well, it is named for its main benefactor."
"Benny who?" Buck's blank expression made Mano smile.
"The man who bought and paid for everything to get the town established."
"Oh!" Buck's eyebrows rose in unison.
Mano swallowed the urge to laugh. Sometimes his good friend was, cómo se dice, a little lacking in vocabulary.
"Well, Mr. Stoker, he owned the bank and Dave worked for him. From what Dave said this man had turned Dave's life around. Dave was a respected and trusted employee and like a son to Stoker. At any rate, I went into the bank and expressed my gratitude, but Dave said he wanted to catch up some more and offered me a chance to get cleaned up at his house. He said his wife would be there and would see I had everything I needed. Oh was the joke ever on me! I could hardly believe that Dave was married. When I got to the house he described, the door was open. I knocked and called out, but no one came, so I entered. Just as I was supposed to."
"What d'ya mean, as you was supposed to?"
"Pues es que… the thing is, when I got into the house I looked for Mrs Redmond, for Dave's wife. I did not find her, but I did find a man lying dead on the floor. Shot. And the gun lying beside him."
"Don't tell me! Let me guess, you jes' had to go over and pick up that gun, didn't you?"
"That's right! Of course, I was supposed to do just that. At that very moment the marshal comes in. I have the gun in my hand. He arrests me for killing…"
"Mr Stoker!"
"Hey, amigo, who's telling this story?"
"Oh Mano, how could you do it?"
"I know, compadre. I did it! I picked up the gun. I framed myself for the murder of Mr. Stoker. At the same time I realized that Dave had to be the one who had set me up."
Buck leaned in and stuck his elbows on the table. He raked his fingertips across his forehead and pulled his hands down the sides of his face, letting his chin come to rest on two fists. He shot Mano a sober look that lasted several seconds.
"You is plumb loco, Mano, you know that? Plumb loco!" Buck said at last, shaking his head as he sat back in the chair and drank a swig of red-eye.
"Sure. You do not have to remind me. Of course, I ended up back in jail and this time they were prepared to hang me. They began building the gallows just outside the jail window so that I could see the progress." Mano downed the rest of the tequila and fingered the glass.
Strains of a tinny rendition of "Buffalo Gals" wafted their way from the piano across the room. Buck glanced at the music man, nodded and sighed, "Well they's more. I know they's more."
"Yes, there is more. Later that day they bring in Roy. They have caught him trying to rob another stage and he has made a mess of it, so they bring him in for trial—probably to hang, too. Naturally, we recognize each other. I wonder how he has come to be a thief, because he does not seem to have much knowledge of the world. We talk and he tells me of his friend Honch. It seems that this Honch was so clever he knew which stages were carrying gold shipments and they only ever held up those stages. How could this be? I was not sure…I got to thinking."
"You got to thinking that your 'friend' Dave, who was big in the bank, would have that information. You got to thinking that he was mebbe the brains o' the out-fit and that prob'ly ol' Mr Stoker found him out and he had to kill him."
"Seguro que sí! Eventually."
"So you had to get yourself out of jail and turn the tables on Redmond somehow."
"Exactamente! I persuaded Roy to fake a fight with me. The marshal came in to break it up and we overpowered him and escaped. Fortunately, Honch had a hideout. A cabin not too far away, just up from the main stage road but pretty well concealed. We holed up there for a while. I cooked some beans, which Roy seemed to enjoy."
"Oh them beans with the chilis and such in 'em like we had that time?"
"Sí."
"Them's good beans"
"Gracias."
"Well, so then whut happened?"
Mano leaned forward. "I will tell you whut. During the night Dave sneaked into the cabin and held a gun on us. I got him to talk. It was as I had begun to imagine. He became angry when he learned Mr. Stoker had not left anything to him in his will. He would have only the respect and admiration of the people in the bank and the town. He would have only his own wits and ability in business to rely on. So he had been stealing the gold shipments and the old man was getting suspicious. It seemed the arrival of an old friend gave him a way of getting out of his dilemma at the expense of…"
"You!"
"Sí! I was to hang and tie everything up in a neat package."
"C'mon Mano, you ain't finished this story yet, what happened next?"
"Well I managed to persuade Dave that I would take over for Honch. I was a dead man anyway. He wanted us to hold up the stage the next day as there was going to be a gold shipment on it. We agreed to the deal and he returned to town. The next day Roy and I rode up to the overlook, where I had seen the first stage robbery, and we watched the stage drive through safely. Roy wanted to rob it, but I had already told him that I never rob stages. Luckily, he has little confidence in himself and allows me to tell him what to do. That night Dave came round and I made the excuse that my horse had thrown a shoe. Roy was good. I was worried he might confess that we had done nothing. However, he kept quiet and just looked at me. I knew he was putting himself in my hands."
"I thought Roy looked like a good boy."
"Dave insisted that we make sure to get the stage the next day because it would be carrying a lot of money and he himself would be on board. That was my chance. The next morning, Roy and I rode into town and hid until the stage pulled out. We gave it a big head start. Then Roy and I made sure to ride all through the town like real banditos shooting our guns in the air and letting everyone, especially the marshal, see that it was us. Of course, the marshal and his posse chased us. The trick was to let them chase us right out to the stagecoach where they would catch Dave and not us."
"That sound like a purty good plan, Mano. But a little chancey. I'm guessin' it worked."
"Sí. The marshal stopped Dave as he drove back towards Stokertown. Dave told him that Roy and I robbed the stage, shot the driver and guard, and took off with the money. We could not have been doing that at all, as the marshal was well aware. Dave stupidly tried to shoot his way out. He shot Roy in the arm and he shot at me. Roy killed him. The marshal could hardly believe it. I tell you, hombre, the epitaph for Dave should read that he was the one man who could not see the truth about himself."
"Oh Mano that's sad, sad, but at least you and Roy got out of it alive—that could have turned out so different!"
"Sí compadre, I know. The judge decided that Roy had really only been led into bad behavior and if I, Manolo Montoya, would agree, he would be handed over into my custody for the length of his suspended sentence."
"Yeah, Mano, that's whut I don't git."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, how come that judge he thought you'd be responsible for Roy? I mean you kin hardly look after yourself." Buck cracked a grin as wide as Tennessee.
Mano raised the back of his hand in mock anger, as if to hit Buck, but then he broke into a smile and laughed. How good it was to be back with his friend and out of that jail. He did not want to admit how worried he had been, when it really seemed as if he would stretch a rope, as they say. Ay! Dios mío! but it had been a close thing.
"Gracias, Buck," Mano said as they swung into their saddles outside the saloon.
"Fer listenin'?"
"Sí. The thing is, I like this Roy very much. I am hopeful that he will be able to help out around the rancho. But I am stuck with him, compadre, for three years. Three years, amigo. You know I do not like responsibility."
"Why didn't you tell the judge no?"
"Amigo, you have seen Roy. He is, cómo se dice, easily led and easily confused. I do not think he could survive on his own. But I need help in this thing. So I have brought him to the rancho."
"Boys in the bunkhouse'll hep."
"Let us just hope that he can do something...besides rob stages, compadre, or he will not last long with your brother!"
Laughing, they urged their mounts to a canter and rode through the night to the High Chaparral.