“But you’ve met the man? You would know him if you saw him?”
“Can’t say. My first meeting would have been twenty-five or so years back. He was a wily sort, and my company tracked his small Comanchero outfit for weeks. They were responsible for killing a man, woman and their two small children for no more than a bit of jewelry, some guns, and three or four horses. I’m sure it wasn’t the first time. We caught up with them, and most of the bunch went down shooting, but he was careful to stay away from the gunfire and gave himself up. He was a well-spoken man, and at trial took the stand and claimed it was all mistaken identity, that he was just a simple trader.”
Jordy said, “He was found innocent?”
“Nope. Jury’s verdict was guilty, and I thought for sure he would hang. Judge said otherwise. Sentenced him to thirty years in prison. He never spent a week. Somebody broke him out of the local jail before he got sent off to Huntsville. If this guy is Perez, it stands to reason he would have changed his name, although why he would go with an Anglo name seems odd.”
“It would throw off anybody looking for Alfonso Perez. They wouldn’t expect him to carry an Anglo name,” Jordy said.
“No, I suppose not. The man was well educated for these parts and was fluent in both Spanish and English.”
“I don’t like this,” Jordy said. “If this guy is Perez, you are not looking at a grand reunion. It’s more likely, the guy would like to kill you. He might even see it as a necessity once you have identified him. After all these years, he is still a wanted man, I assume.”
“Nobody would be looking very hard for him these days, but, yeah, he wouldn’t want to risk my passing on his whereabouts, which I would, of course.”
Jordy said, “I’m sticking with you like glue.”
“If we’re forced to separate, you’ve got to stay with Rudy. We need every man we can spare with the wagons.”
“Damn it, Jack, you can’t go off to a dance with Amos Potter if he’s who you think he might be. You might not be coming back.”
“And he might not be who I suspect he is. And if he should be, it just might be Potter, formerly known as Perez, who won’t be coming back. What I’m really worried about now is this damned inspection delay. We’ve got big trouble if gunfire starts at the west end before we get set up in the compound.”
When the inspection was finished, Smack told the Lucky Five crew to fall in behind him. The man called Smiley continued to bring up the rear as the wagons rolled toward the compound.
When they reached the ramshackle buildings, Smack signaled for a halt on the trail midway between the canyon walls. Rudy reined the teams to a stop, and Swede rolled his wagon in behind as near to the front Studebaker as mule separation would permit.
“Who’s got your inventory?” Smack asked.
“I do,” Jack said, climbing down from the wagon seat. “Do you want folks to come down to the wagons and look over the merchandise and buy direct from us?”
“No, it don’t work that way. Mister Potter will take everything off your hands. Then he will handle the divvying.”
Meaning, Jack figured, that Potter would be selling to the other compound occupants at a tidy profit. “So where do I find Mister Potter?”
“I’ll take you to him. He’s waiting for you. Says you’re going to celebrate a reunion of sorts.”
Smack’s remark removed any doubt regarding the identity of the Comanchero leader. Jack noticed that Tige and Swede were already starting to unload the second wagon and stack the boxes on the ground behind it. Abel was rushing up to the front wagon to help Rudy and Jordy unload, not that Rudy could do much more than supervise.
“Hey,” Smack hollered, “what the hell you think you’re doing? I didn’t tell you to unload.”
“I’ll put ‘em down,” Smiley said, as he nudged his horse up beside the wagons and pulled a rifle from its saddle holster.
“Like hell you will,” Smack snapped. “That’s up to the boss.” He turned to Jack, “Let’s go, Wills.”
Jack heard Thor growl and looked down and saw the big dog at his side, watching Smack and his teeth bared threateningly.
“My dog,” Jack said. “I’ve got to have somebody take my dog.” He called to Rudy, “Rudy, come get Thor, would you? You will need the leash.”
“What?”
“Bring the leash.”
“I owe this dog a bullet in the brain,” Smack said, reaching for his pistol.
“You pull the Colt, and you are a dead man,” Jack said, his own Peacemaker leveled at Smack’s gut.
Rudy hobbled over carrying a short, coiled rope with a wide leather collar tied to the end. “You ought to keep him with you,” he grumbled.
Rudy handed the collar to Jack, who knelt and fastened it about the dog’s neck. Thor looked at Jack with sad eyes and whined as Rudy led him away. Darned dog always knew how to manipulate the guilt strings and usually get his way. Not today, though. He did not want Thor reacting more quickly than was prudent if Jack were threatened. Besides, a big dog would not likely be welcome at any meeting with the Comanchero leader.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
It had taken Sierra, She Who Speaks, and their party until well past midnight to reach the southwest end of Lookout Canyon and several more hours to locate the narrow entrance. They had found a fast-moving stream north of the rise that led toward the canyon rim before it went underground, apparently cutting through stone and sand to form a natural conduit to enter the canyon at the base of the wall. She suspected this was
