pays a bounty for Apache scalps?”
“That’s right,” Kelly said with a nod.
“But the Rurales work for the Mexican government, and yet Guzman trades with the Apaches, rather than killing them.”
“Guzman works for himself, first and foremost,” Kelly said, “and his men work for him. Technically they draw wages from the government, but the paymaster from Mexico City doesn’t get up this way very often. The politicians established the Rurales so they could claim they were protecting the people, but except for a few officers who take things a hell of a lot more seriously than they should, it’s all a sham. The government doesn’t care what the Rurales do. So Guzman trades with the Apaches because it makes money for him. Also, as long as he’s doing business with them, the savages will be less likely to attack him and his men when they’re out on patrol ... by which I mean, out hunting for slaves.”
The Kid could only shake his head in amazement after that long speech by Kelly. In his former life as a businessman, he had seen firsthand how corrupt the American politicians in Washington could be, but evidently the south of the border version put them to shame when it came to unabashed avarice.
After everything he had experienced over the past few years, he was no longer shocked by how low human beings could sink, but occasionally the depths of their depravity made him wonder just how bad they could get.
Right now, practical matters were all that concerned him. “If the Apaches are already at the Rurales barracks when we get there and have made a deal with Guzman, how will you persuade him to double-cross them?”
“The same way men like Guzman are always persuaded. Money. We’ll offer to split the bounty on the rest of the scalps we take.”
“What’s to stop him from killing the Apaches, taking their scalps, and collecting all the bounty?”
“Like I told you, there’s a truce of sorts between Guzman and the savages. He can’t just kill them openly. That’s where we come in.”
“So he’ll make it look like you killed them and he didn’t have anything to do with it.”
Kelly grinned and nodded. “Now you’re catching on, Kid. Everybody gets something out of the deal that way.”
“What about the prisoners?”
“Well, now, you may be out of luck there,” Kelly said. “You never did say whether or not you’re sweet on one of those women, but if you are, that’s too bad. If Guzman’s already traded with the Apaches for them, he’s not going to give them up. And if he hasn’t, well, we may have to throw them in to sweeten the pot. Sorry, Kid, but one way or another those ladies will be headed to Mexico City.”
The Kid shrugged as if it didn’t mean that much to him, but inside he seethed with rage. Kelly might believe that Jess and the other women were destined for short, degrading lives of slavery in Mexico City brothels, but The Kid wasn’t going to let that happen.
They wound through the foothills for several hours, then climbed to the pass through the mountain range. Mateo dismounted to examine the ground in the pass. When he looked up, he gave Kelly a curt nod.
“They’re ahead of us,” Kelly said. “How long?”
“One hour,” the Yaqui answered.
“That’s long enough,” Kelly said with a sigh. “We can’t get to San Remo ahead of them. We’ll just have to strike a deal with Guzman. That was what I figured to do, whether we got there first or not.”
The Kid tried not to let his spirits flag. He had still been hoping to get the prisoners away from the Apaches before they reached San Remo, but that wasn’t going to happen. He would have to figure out some way of getting them out of Captain Alberto Guzman’s greedy hands. That might be even more of a challenge.
From the pass they could see into the broad valley that stretched before them. The Kid spotted San Remo in the distance. It was still miles away, and the square adobe buildings of the village looked like a child’s building blocks that had been scattered across the floor in a fit of petulant anger.
Mateo leveled his arm and pointed. Kelly leaned forward in the saddle, and squinted into the distance. “Yep, there they are, all right.”
The Kid took out his telescope and extended it. He aimed it in the direction Mateo was pointing, and after a few moments of searching, he found the line of Apaches riding through the valley toward San Remo.
All the Indians were mounted. The ones who had been on foot earlier had been easier targets for the scalphunters, and their scalps were stuffed into Valdez’s bloodstained canvas sacks.
Jess and Leah each rode double with one of the warriors. The Price women still rode together on the same pony. Jess’s shoulders had a dispirited slump to them. She didn’t seem gripped with despair as strongly as Leah Gabbert was, but her failure to escape during the battle apparently had taken some of the wind out of her sails.
“Can you see them?” Kelly asked.
“Yeah.”
“Do a head count. Should be eighteen of the varmints left, if I counted right earlier.”
Those numbers agreed with The Kid’s estimate, but he moved the telescope to the front of the column and counted anyway, just to be sure. “Eighteen,” he announced.
“It’s a damned shame they’re too far ahead for us to catch them before they get to Guzman’s place,” Kelly said. “I think we could handle that many of the bucks.”
Not in a head-on fight, The Kid thought. In a case like that, he and his companions probably would wind up dead. But it was easy for Kelly to say when the Apaches were several miles away, he supposed. Kelly was in the habit of boasting.
“Well, let’s go.” Kelly lifted his reins. “It’s probably going to be dark by the time we get there.”
They rode on, with Mateo still taking the lead. More mountains loomed to the west of the valley, and true to Kelly’s prediction, the sun sank behind those peaks before the five riders reached the village of San Remo.
Mateo was able to find his way in the dark, and after a while the lights of the village came into view.
“The Rurales compound is at the south end of town,” Kelly said. “We’ll head straight there. There’s not much to San Remo, just a few stores and cantinas and a whorehouse.”
“As for myself,” Valdez said, “I would very much enjoy a visit to a cantina and a whorehouse.”
“In which order?” Chess asked dryly.
Valdez had to think about that. Evidently it was a question that required considerable pondering, because it was a long moment before the Mexican said, “The cantina first, I think. To give me added strength for pleasuring the senoritas.”
Kelly chuckled. “Be careful you don’t drink so much you fall asleep before you even get to the senoritas, amigo.”
“That will never happen,” Valdez declared proudly.
The Kid heard their banter but didn’t pay much attention to it. He asked Kelly, “What’s this compound you mentioned?”
“That’s where the Rurales barracks is located,” Kelly explained. “There’s the barracks building itself, plus Guzman’s office, a mess hall, an infirmary, a powder magazine and armory, and some storage buildings. There’s a corral inside the walls, too, but no blacksmith shop. They use the smith in the village when they need new shoes for their horses.”
“How tall are the walls?”
Kelly looked over at him with a frown. “You’re mighty curious about this stuff, Kid.”
“I like to know what I’m getting into.”
“Well, I suppose that’s reasonable. The walls are twelve feet tall and about a foot thick, with a parapet on the inside for riflemen and a couple of guard towers.”
“Sounds like a regular fortress,” The Kid commented.
“Oh, it is,” Kelly agreed. “Guzman’s managed to work up that truce with the Apaches I mentioned, but when the Rurales first came here, they had to fight off quite a few Indian attacks. That was before I was around these parts, but Mateo’s told me all about it. So they built the place to be defended.”
The Kid nodded slowly in the darkness. The information might come in handy. A lot of times places that were built to keep enemies
