Chapter XIII: Conflicting Conspiracies

Porfiro Mendez came back to Indian Wells, bringing with him Ricardo and Miguel, his two henchmen-cousins. It was Mendez’s intention to go to Keno City and have a talk with Frank Austin, but as they rode into Indian Wells, he saw Hal Austin ride in from Keno City. Mendez dismissed Ricardo and Miguel for the present, and decided to hang around a while in the hope of learning what was being said. Apparently nothing was going on at the Casa del Diaz. Mendez had a bottle of wine in the patio, then went through a rear gate and into the tiny garden at the rear, where he leaned against the wall and consumed a cigarette. A climbing rose, twining up the wall and over an old framework, half pergola, half fence, obscured him from the sight of a window. He could hear some one singing, and decided it was Juana.

The sound of footsteps caused him to flatten himself as much as possible against the old adobe wall.

It was Hal Austin, coming around from the opposite direction. Mendez heard him call softly to Juana and heard her answer him. Leaning out, Mendez could see Austin, but the deep window hid Juana from view. They were talking softly, and Hal was telling her that his mother and sister would be down the following day to see her and her mother.

“Gee, it’s great, Juana,” he said exultantly. “They’ll like you. If mother agrees, I’m sure your mother will.”

“Do you think your mother will?” asked Juana anxiously.

“I’m so sure that I stopped in Keno City and took out a marriage licence.”

“Oh, Hal, you didn’t do that!”

“It is right in my pocket, honey.”

“But your father----”

“If mother says yes, dad might as well agree.”

“Will your father come?”

“_Quién sabe?_ But that doesn’t matter. Lean out further--please.”

Mendez slipped quietly into the patio, sauntered through the _cantina_ and went back to the street, where Ricardo and Miguel joined him.

“Thees ees a tough job,” he said enigmatically.

“Sure,” agreed Ricardo, who knew nothing about it at all. “The toffer they are the beegger they fell.”

While they were talking Cal Sands rode in and tied his horse in front of another _cantina_. Mendez looked him over thoughtfully as the tall foreman of the Star A disappeared within the bar. Then he turned to Ricardo and Miguel, speaking in Mexican, and told them to watch and listen at the Casa del Diaz. He explained how it was possible for one or both of them to get behind the building and hear what was said in the rooms. The two Mexicans listened attentively. It was work to their liking.

“Hear everything,” insisted Mendez.

“In the patio, where there is wine?” asked Miguel.

“No! I myself shall be there.”

“It will soon be dark,” objected Ricardo.

“Always theenk from your belly!” snorted Mendez in his own particular brand of English.

“_Madre de Dios!_ Breeng me some news I’m like to hear, and I buy you bot’ the beeggest dinner I ever eat in my life.”

“Cheeken,” said Ricardo. “Come on, Mike.”

Cal Sands, carrying five hundred dollars in his pocket with which to bribe Rosita, had several drinks in the _cantina_. Mendez came in and leaned on the wine-soaked bar, but Sands paid no attention to him. Mendez sipped his wine and wondered what brought Sands to Indian Wells. He knew Sands had been a bit attentive to Juana Diaz, before the advent of Hal Austin, and that Sands was Frank Austin’s right-hand man. Did Sands know of this marriage licence, he wondered? Mendez could never stand for that marriage. Not because it was all wrong morally, but because his plans to blackmail Frank Austin would be knocked into a cocked hat.

Sands wandered around the main street until after dark, but Mendez did not lose track of him, and finally the foreman went to the Casa del Diaz. Mendez was only a minute or two behind him, and he found Sands and Rosita talking together in the patio. Several others were eating at the little tables, and Mendez took a seat.

Finally Rosita led Sands into their living-quarters, and closed the door, while Mendez ordered wine, and swore to himself that he would cut the ears off both Ricardo and Miguel unless they brought him what was said between Rosita and Sands, which would likely be spoken in Spanish as Sands spoke the language fluently, and Rosita preferred it to English, although she spoke English with scarcely a trace of accent.

The old room was full of shadows from the five candles in the wrought-iron candelabrum. Rosita had not invited Sands to be seated.

“Are you sure no one can overhear us here?” he asked cautiously.

“This is my home,” she replied.

“All right. I’ll make it brief, Mrs. Diaz. Frank Austin has told me everything. You know as well as we do that marriage between his son and your daughter is impossible. Well, Hal was at the ranch to-day and has induced his mother and sister to come down and meet you, thinking that they might agree to his marriage with Juana. And, more than that, Hal secured a marriage licence in Keno City to-day.”

Rosita’s lips were shut tightly, her black eyes like deep pools in the shadows as she waited for Sands to continue.

“Frank Austin knows they are coming down here, but he does not know of this marriage licence. You understand why he does not wish to have Mrs. Austin and his daughter meet you and Juana. Nothing can be gained by it. Now it would be a simple matter for you and Juana to go away to-morrow, perhaps to Piñon. If they do not see you to-morrow, they _will_ proceed to their home in San Francisco.”

“So he is afraid for his wife and daughter to meet me?” said Rosita.

“What good would it do?”

“Who knows?”

“Oh, be reasonable,” begged Sands. “Suppose you were to receive two hundred dollars for doing this--would it not be worth while?”

“Austin is willing to bribe me to not meet Mrs. Austin?”

“It would be worth that much to him.”

Rosita shook her head slowly. “I do not care for his money. Go back and tell him that his money does not mean anything to me.”

“But you will go away?”

“No! Run away from his gringo wife? I do not ask to see her. If she comes to see me, I shall meet her courteously and listen to what she has to say. I have nothing to conceal.”

Sands took a roll of bills from his pocket and showed them to her. “More than you would make in many days,” he said insinuatingly. “Take it, go away until they leave.”

Rosita’s answer was to walk to the back door and open it. “That is the shortest way off my premises,” she said.

“Aw, don’t be sore at me, Rosita,” he said, speaking in English. “I’m only doin’ this for Austin. He’s made me half owner of the Star A ranch, and I had to help him in this deal.”

“Just turn to the right, and you will be back on the street,” she said softly.

“All right, go ahead and be foolish,” angrily retorted Sands. “You’re the first Mexican I ever saw that wouldn’t take easy money.”

He laughed harshly, put the money back in his pocket, and walked out, closing the door behind him. For a moment he hesitated; then he started to put on his hat, when something crashed down on his head, and his consciousness vanished in a grand shower of Roman candles and skyrockets.

Mendez saw Rosita when she came back alone, and he wondered what had become of Sands. It worried him, until he paid for his wine and went back to the street, where he noted that Sands’s horse was still at the rack. He stood in front of the _cantina_ for possibly fifteen minutes, when he saw Sands coming across the badly lighted street. The big cowboy was staggering a little and carrying his sombrero in his hand. As he came up to his horse, the lights shining directly on his head disclosed the fact that one side of his head was bloody. Mendez stepped over near him.

“W’at ’appen to _you_, Sands?” queried the big Mexican.

Sands licked his lips, as he gathered up his reins and climbed into his saddle. “Go to hell, will yuh?” he growled, and rode away.

Mendez chuckled softly. His two wide-hatted henchmen were coming across the street, and he guided them farther up the street, where no one might overhear what was said. Ricardo related the conversation between Rosita and Cal Sands, in which Sands had offered Rosita two hundred dollars to stay out of Indian Wells for one day.

“You are good for leestening,” said Mendez. “But w’at ’appen next?”

Ricardo shrugged his shoulders, but the next moment the big right hand of Mendez gripped his arm like a vice. “Those two ’ondred dollars,” he said, “Geeve it up.”

Ricardo gave it up, and Mendez conceded them each ten dollars.

“Dreenk damn leetle and go ’ome,” ordered Mendez. “_Mañana_, I’m use you.” Stuffing the money in his pocket, Mendez swaggered back to the _cantina_.

Ricardo chuckled softly and slapped Miguel on the back. “Thees Porfiro ees ver’ smart man, eh, Mike?”

“Oh, ver’ kind man,” grunted Mike. “He’s theenk these damn Gonzales got no brain on top from he’s ’ead. I geeve heem ten dollar.”

“Don’ be fool and keek some geeft ’orse in the cheen. How he’s know we got three honndred dollar more? I’m only spik from two honndred dollar. ‘Mañana, I’m use you, eh? All right.’”

Cal Sands rode out of Indian Wells in a half-dazed condition, and he did not discover the loss of his five hundred dollars until he was well on his way back to the ranch. He rubbed his sore head and cursed at the moon. Who had known he possessed that money, he wondered? Rosita was the only one, outside of himself and Austin--and Rosita had only heard him mention two hundred. Could it have been Hal Austin? No, he did not think Hal Austin, as much as Hal hated him, would do a thing like that. Anyway, the money would not interest Hal.

But Sands was not one to cry over spilled milk--especially if it was not his milk. Rosita had refused to be bribed; so some other scheme must be worked out to prevent the women from meeting. Cal Sands wanted Juana, and he was willing to do anything to prevent her marrying Hal.

It was midnight when Sands rode in at the ranch, and the ranch house was in darkness. But he found Tony Riecho, Dave Elkinson and Hank Britton playing three-handed poker in the bunk house. Sands’s personal appearance put an end to the poker game.

“Holy Mariar!” snorted Elkinson. “What happened to you, Cal?”

“Horse throwed me,” lied Sands. “I wasn’t lookin’ for it, and he shore stood me on my head.”

“I told yuh that blue horse wasn’t reliable,” reminded Riecho. “You shore got a knot on your head, feller.”

Britton got a pan of water and a towel, and they cleaned Sands’s head and face.

“I was down at Indian Wells, and I drank too much wine,” grinned Sands.

“Got drunk and fell off?” asked Tony.

“No, I got throwed. Served me right, I reckon.”

Sands sat down on the end of a bunk and rolled a smoke, while the boys settled up their game and dumped the poker chips back into a cigar box. Sands looked them over thoughtfully. In range parlance, they were both forked and salty--which meant that they were game for anything. Tony Riecho had served time for rustling; Elkinson had been tried and acquitted for horse stealing, and Britton’s past hinted at things that were decidedly outside the law.

“How’d you fellers like to make some easy money?” asked Sands.

The three men eyed him closely for several moments, and Riecho finally came over and sat down on the bunk beside him. “Easy money” meant something outside the law to them.

“How many years do we git, if they catch us?” asked Britton softly.

“And no chance to get caught,” added Sands.

Elkinson laughed. “It mostly allus looks thataway--at first.”

“This would be a cinch,” replied Sands. “Say, two hundred and fifty dollars apiece--and be as safe as a church.”

“Not such big money,” observed Riecho.

“Pretty good, considerin’ there ain’t no risk,” said Sands.

The men were all silent for a full minute. Finally Riecho shrugged his shoulders. “What’s on your mind, Cal?”

“To-morrow, prob’ly about ten o’clock in the mornin’, Mrs. Austin and Betty are startin’ for Indian Wells to have a talk with Rosita Diaz and Juana.”

“I know that,” nodded Tony. “Mrs. Austin asked me about the buckboard.”

“All right,” continued Sands. “It would be worth seven hundred and fifty dollars to Frank Austin if them women didn’t get to Indian Wells.”

“If they didn’t git there?” said Tony. “What’s the idea, anyway?”

“Tony, I can’t tell yuh the whole deal. But I can tell yuh how to earn the money. Tony will drive them. Dave, you and Hank pull out early into the hills, circle Keno City, and plant yourselves down near the mouth of Oreano Cañon. Take some old floursacks for masks. Stick up the buckboard, kidnap them two women, blindfold ’em, and take ’em back to that old adobe a couple miles up the cañon. Yuh could blindfold Tony and hogtie him, to make it look good, and leave him with the buckboard. Take them women back to the adobe, shut ’em in, and come back home. That’s all you’ve got to do. Tony can swear yuh went west, and we’ll delay findin’ ’em until about dark.”

“Yea-a-a-ah!” snorted Elkinson. “Suppose somebody caught us. You know damn well they hang yuh for kidnappin’.”

“Who would catch yuh? We won’t even notify the sheriff until it’s all over. You boys will be plenty safe.”

“Will Frank Austin back us in this?” asked Britton.

“You bet. I’ll tell yuh what I’ll do; I’ll have a talk with him in the mornin’, and I’ll have the money for yuh before yuh pull the job.”

“That’s fair enough,” agreed Tony.

“How about you, Dave?”

“Looks like more of a joke than anythin’ else to me.”

“It is--in a way. But the women are to be handled carefully.”

“Hell, yes. I like ’em both.”

“All right; that’s settled. I’ll see Frank in the mornin’.”

“All we do is stuff ’em in that old adobe, ride back home and call it a day, eh?” said Elkinson.

“That’s it. We’ll do the findin’--but too late for ’em to go to Indian Wells.”

“And you’ll be a hero,” laughed Tony.

“Well, somebody’s got to save ’em,” grinned Sands.