Chapter XXXV
Decker marched both brothers outside, and they were surprised to see John Henry standing a distance away—with both of their horses.
“Listen, you can’t be serious about this,” Brent Foxx said.
“Which one are you?”
“I’m Brent.”
“I thought you knew,” Brian said.
“I took an educated guess at which one of you was Brian, but I didn’t know the other one’s name—and yes, Brent, I’m serious. I brought those women out here, and if they’ve been taken I intend to get them back.”
“You mean you really do have women out there?”
Decker nodded.
“A woman and a fourteen-year-old girl.”
“Jesus,” Brian said, shaking his head. Decker suddenly felt that perhaps this one—Brian—really was a decent man.
Who robbed banks.
Brent, on the other hand, was crazy, and very probably a killer.
“Check your brother’s wound,” Decker said to Brian. “We don’t want him bleeding to death.”
Brian opened Brent’s shirt, checked the wound, and buttoned him up again.
“It seems all right.”
“Good. Let’s get mounted up.”
“You can’t be serious,” Brent said again. “You don’t expect us to go up against who knows how many comancheros just because you lost your women?”
“No, you’re right, Brent, I don’t.”
“That’s more like—”
“I expect you to do it, or die. It’s a simple choice, really. Even a dimwit like you can make it.”
Brent Foxx’s eyes flared and again Decker saw the hint of madness there. He wondered if Brian Foxx knew about it.
“Make the choice.”
“We’ll live,” Brian said. “Come on, we’re wasting time. Who knows what those women are going through?”
He seemed genuinely concerned.
They mounted up and rode north until they started to smell coffee.
“Hold up,” Decker said. He was riding behind the brothers.
He stood in his saddle and sniffed the air. Coffee and bacon.
“I smell bacon, too,” Brian said. “Maybe your ladies made camp.”
“I don’t think so,” Decker said. “We ran out of bacon three nights ago. Let’s dismount.”
They did so, and then Decker told Brian, “Tie your brother up.”
“That’s not necessary.”
“Sure it is,” Decker said. “Look at him, Foxx. The first chance he gets he’s going to jump me and try to kill me. I can’t afford that now.”
“Brian,” Brent said, “we can take him now. He won’t dare fire when we’re this close to the comanchero camp.”
Decker looked at Brian, waiting for him Tomake a move. Brian looked at the noose hanging from Decker’s saddle, and Decker couldn’t tell if it meant something to him or not.
Maybe Brian read dime novels, though, because he grabbed a rope from his saddle and tied his brother’s hands behind him.
“Don’t do this!” Brent screamed.
“We’re going to have to keep him quiet,” Decker said, and Brian nodded.
He gagged his brother, then tied his legs. His brother glared at him murderously. Decker felt that any man who would slit the throat of a helplessly trussed-up man deserved worse than what he was getting right now.
“Good. Now let’s go and take a look at what we’re up against.”
They crept as close to the camp as they could. It had been made at the bottom of a dry wash, so they were able to look down from some meager cover.
There were easily forty comancheros in camp, and they were milling about, waiting for the food to be ready. Their horses were picketed off to one side.
“See anything?” Decker asked.
“Not yet—wait. What’s that over there?”
Brian pointed and Decker looked in that direction.
“The girl,” Brian said.
Sure enough, it was Felicia. She had been tied hand and foot and was sitting near the campfire, where the cooking was being done. Every so often the man who was cooking—a fat Mexican—would reach over and pinch her as if he were testing her for cooking.
“Now where’s Rebecca?” Decker wondered aloud.
There was some commotion at the farthest end of the camp and both men looked that way. What they saw was a crowd of men who were looking down at the ground. As they moved about, what they were looking at finally came into view.
“Oh, Jesus,” Brian said.
They could see the naked ass of a man whose pants were down around his ankles. He was thrusting himself down onto someone at an increased pace, and it was obvious what was going on.
“Shit,” Decker said with feeling.
When Brian Foxx spoke, Decker was surprised at his words and at the genuine feeling that was behind them.
The bank robber even put his hand on Decker’s shoulder.
“We’ll get them out,” Foxx said. “I swear, we’ll get them out.”
“Yeah,” Decker said, “but how?”
Chapter XXXVI
It was a strange alliance—Decker and Foxx. He had been tracking Brian Foxx for many weeks now, and at no time did he ever anticipate that he and his quarry would end up as allies.
They decided to wait until dark before they tried anything. If Rebecca was indeed the victim of the group rape that was going on, then attacking in broad daylight might bring a worse fate: death.
They returned to where they had left Brent Foxx trussed up and untied him to allow his circulation to flow again.
“We’ll have to tie you up again when we go in to get the women,” Brian said to his brother apologetically.
“You’re siding with him?” Brent demanded.
“Only against the comancheros, and only to get the women out. We saw the woman being raped, Brent. The fourteen-year-old girl could be next.”
