Fathers and Sons Chapter Three: Comancheros
The ride down to Sonora was purty easy, recollected Buck, unless you counted that run-in with a coupla comancheros. Well it wasn't so much a run-in as a run-out, Buck chuckled. Yep, seems whenever Mano and me meet them boys we jes naturally have to make 'em footsore!
They had left the High Chaparral for Sonora at dusk and ridden through the cool of the evening, until the first glimmer of moon suggested a quiet overnight stop.
"Looks like a good spot here," Buck had said of the small clearing beside a stream where boulders formed a horseshoe. "Roy, boy, you mind gettin' a fire goin'?"
The smell of coffee soon spiced the night air...when Mano's senses alerted him that something was not right.
"Let us check the horses, Buck," Mano called in a voice that seemed a might too loud. He crooked a finger for Buck to follow to the mesquite tree where their mounts were tied. "Compadre," Mano spoke in a soft, casual tone, pretending to examine the shoes of the horses. "We are not alone."
"I thought so, Mano. In those bushes over yonder?" Buck motioned with his chin in the direction of some scrub at the edge of their camp.
"Sí. I think it might be our friends, the comancheros."
"What do you think they'll do?"
"Wait for us to go to sleep and try to jump us. Likely kill us and take our horses. They have been waiting for this chance, amigo."
"I know'd it. Got any idees?"
"No. You?"
"I spect their horses is over there," Buck nodded his head toward the bushes at the opposite end of the camp.
"Estoy de acuerdo. Hey, Buck, if we can circle around there, we can set them afoot, again." Mano's white teeth gleamed in the gathering gloom.
"Hehehe, I like it! Who's gonna set 'em walkin' then?"
"If we get into our bedrolls and appear to post Roy on watch, I think he could circle around and sneak up on their horses, turning them loose. He could then circle back behind them just as they rush us. We will be ready with our guns beneath the blankets to defend ourselves. They will be caught in the crossfire. It would be very stupid if they were to stay around to try to finish us off."
"Mano that's mighty risky though. They could kill us on the first shot."
"They might, but I think we have to take the risk, eh? If we position our saddles like pillows, we could get ourselves behind them and out of their direct line of fire, which should give us some protection."
"I dunno know, Mano. That ain't much protection."
"Well it is all we have, hombre, and I think it is what we will have to do. Otherwise, they will just walk into camp and shoot us like dogs."
"Okay, okay, no need to git all het up about it, ameego!"
"Do we do this thing or not, hombre?"
"I guess we do it. Don't have no choice."
Mano and Buck strolled back toward the fire, stretching their arms and yawning. Their body language told Roy something wasn't right. He looked at Mano with a question in his eyes.
"Roy, would you take the first watch, amigo?"
"Er shore, Mano."
"Bueno, then this is what I want you to do. Grab your rifle." Mano clamped his arm around Roy's shoulders and led him away from the fire toward their horses. As they walked, he whispered his plan amid a few louder remarks, and Roy nodded. Mano smiled, winked, and even relaxed a little. "Good. You understand."
Roy, cradling his rifle in his arms, walked off behind the boulders as if to start his patrol while Mano returned to the fire.
"I shore be tired to-night, S'nor Montoya," Buck said.
"Claro."
Buck and Mano kept up the chatter as they spread their bedrolls and rearranged their saddles, moving further from the fire while altering their alignment so their saddles would provide a small buffer of protection. The men took their time, drinking a final cup of coffee and talking. They took off their gun belts, laying these at the sides of the saddles, discreetly unholstering their guns as they did so and scooting the firearms under their bedrolls.
"Hasta mañana," Mano said, stretching.
"G'nite, amigo," Buck replied. They lay down and covered themselves, turning onto their stomachs under the bedrolls and finding their guns.
The comancheros Sanchez and Slim watched.
"What's takin' 'em so long?" Slim whispered.
"Do not hurry them, amigo, because once they fall asleep they are never going to wake again," Sanchez snorted in a low tone that even chilled Slim. The two were alone and had not rushed Montoya and Cannon before now because that would have been foolish. Wait until a man is defenseless-this was the motto of Jorge Sanchez.
"That stupid muchacho is with them again," Sanchez rasped. "He is no match for us."
"Well, he's out there guarding nothin' anyway," Slim whispered. "Ain't gonna make no difference to Cannon and Montoya."
Sanchez and Slim waited three minutes and crept out of their cover, staying low. It was dark, the moon hidden behind clouds. Slim was pretty sure they couldn't be seen, since the fire had died down. When they moved within ten yards of the sleeping figures, they stood tall and lifted their revolvers to shoot. No sooner had they cocked their weapons than Buck and Mano opened fire. Slim took a bullet in the outer thigh and yelled.
Sanchez and Slim threw themselves onto the desert floor, returning fire, when from behind them came the sound of a shot. Slim realized that the stupid boy had sneaked around them as they had concentrated on Montoya and Cannon. Sanchez cursed as a bullet clipped his arm.
"Let's get outta here, Sanchez!" Slim shouted.
Both men jumped up and zig zagged their way past the camp toward the spot where their horses had been tied, only to find empty space. No horses! Sanchez snarled and cursed. Slim shrugged his shoulders and limped into the darkness, cursing as he stumbled into a cholla; its spines pierced his arm and injured leg. He wasn't letting Cannon and Montoya get him. One of these days soon he'd have his revenge. Damn, another horse gone. This was the last time.
"Mano, Buck, you okay?" Roy shouted as he crashed through the bushes into the camp.
"We're fine Roy, thanks to you, boy!" Buck answered.
"Gracias Roy, you did an excellent job!"
"He purely did, Mano, didn't he? Didya scare off their horses, too?"
"Sure. I untied 'em real quiet, just like Mano said, and then I shooed 'em off with my fake cougar grumble."
"Huh?" Buck asked, puzzled.
"You can make a noise like a cougar, Roy?"
"I sure can, Mano, didn't I tell you before? I get up real close to their ears and then I do this sort of grumble thing in my throat and it sounds jes like a mountain lion. An' horses take off running as fast as they can." Roy's smile shone wide and bright.
"Another fine talent you have Roy, amigo, and we are blessed by its use. Gracias." Mano held his hand to his chest and dropped his eyes in humble acceptance of Roy's ability.
Buck chuckled. "You think they'll be back, Mano?"
"Ah, compadre, sí, I fear so. They have now been set afoot four times by us. I do not think they will stay quiet for long."
"Least one of 'em might. There's blood on this rock," Buck observed.
"Sí. Bueno. Even so, they will probably seek an early opportunity to pay us back. Ideas of revenge they have been harboring for a long time now."
"You're right about that. They's gonna be mad as wet hens." Buck's laughter was infectious and pretty soon all three of them were chuckling.
"Amigos, I do not think we should stay around tonight to give them any more opportunities. The night is ruined for sleep, so let us pack up and ride on to Rancho Montoya. We should arrive mañana in time for the afternoon meal, and my father is going to be delighted to see us, I know."
Mano's ironic tone was lost on his audience. He well knew his father would not be pleased to see them the next day and especially if they invited themselves to eat. Mealtimes were sacrosanct for Papá. Ay yi yi, Manito, you are starting on the wrong foot and you have not even arrived yet.