“Crystal.”
She picked up her pack. “Come on. We go around this bend and you can see the town.”
A few minutes later found her staring in awe at the settlement. “Where did all…?” Her voice faded with the question. “There was nothing like this when I left.”
He pulled a pair of binoculars from his pack. Focusing the instrument pulled a vision of the town right up to his nose. The settlement had one street, with buildings lining each side. A few houses randomly dotted the basin floor, and off to one side stood a small country church, complete with steeple and bell tower.
The single street, lined with men lounging around, horses and wagons tied to rails and posts, was a well of inactivity. No one seemed to be doing anything. Then, while they watched, a group of men erupted from one of the buildings. They saw the puff of smoke long before they heard the insignificant sound of the shot. The group turned and trooped back into the building. The one left on the ground didn’t move.
His expression turned grim. “Looks like you’ve got a lot of new residents. Not too friendly, either.”
“Who?” She still watched the village below in undisguised disbelief, and kept shaking her head.
He just shrugged. He couldn’t tell from this distance. “Raider, mercenaries, survivors, who knows? Doesn’t make much difference what you call them. They may tell you one thing, but it’s what they do that puts the stamp on them.”
She’d finally found her own set of binoculars. “I don’t see any of the locals, and I can’t figure how they got those wagons in. It really is hard to do, or at least—it was.” Making a sudden decision, she started down the pine-needled trail skirting the basin. “There is a ranch a couple miles from here. Connie Sanchez runs it. She’s a friend of mine and has a bunch of riders out of old Mexico. They are all descendants of the Maya. Nobody messes with them. Connie keeps her ear to the ground. She’ll know what’s going on.”
As he hustled to keep up, he wondered how many more twists and turns there’d be to his new tenure as marshal. And if this Connie person feeds people.
4
The Sanchez ranch lay in a narrow valley next to the Big Springs basin. The land here was not quite as rough, with the forest broken by small glades and clearings full of grass. In the distance, Trent could see cattle grazing on a plateau, and on another were horses. All of the animals had guards. Someone was very smart. Cattle represented food. Horses represented transportation. Anyone controlling a herd of cattle, or the horses for that matter, could have about anything they wanted. Provided they could hold it. Coming out on a wider trail that led to the main house, a low bungalow with a red-tiled roof and wraparound porch, they hitched up their packs and started toward it.
“Hold it.”
The voice had come from the side, next to a gigantic outcropping of limestone, and Trent silently cursed himself for not being more careful. From the way Katie acted, he thought they might be more welcome at her friend’s ranch.
The man who rode around the rock was lean and dark. Both hands handled his rifle as he guided his horse with his knees. His wide-brimmed hat sat on the back on his head, revealing shiny black hair. Smoke from a small, black cigarillo made his eyes squint at them, but Trent doubted he missed anything. This man looked to be all tough whang-leather and sharp spurs. There was no doubt about the M-4 carbine pointed at them.
“You have business here?” The voice was soft and musical, with no trace of an accent.
Katie spoke up, flustered. “You must be new here. I’m a friend of Consuelo’s.”
Motioning them forward with his off hand, the rifle didn’t waver. His voice was polite and calm. Despite himself, Trent was impressed. “That we shall see. Today is not a good day for visitors.”
“What about our weapons? We’ll not be giving them up.” Trent’s voice was firm.
The man just shrugged and motioned them on. He had no doubt this man could take them both if trouble was offered.
“Have you had trouble?”
“Each day has its own.” The brusque reply was both philosophical and grim as the man followed them toward the house.
As they neared the long porch that circled the house, a woman came busting through the door. Long black hair framed black snapping eyes, and the low cut dress revealed her dusky complexion. Short and voluptuous, her dress trimmed in jewelry, she looked more like an Indian princess than a Mexican landowner.
“Katie.” The woman exclaimed as she hugged the tall blond girl. “Welcome back. We were so worried.”
“How’s it going, Connie?”
Consuelo’s dancing eyes sobered a moment as she held her friend at arm’s length. “It goes. How do you like my new foreman?”
“He seems very capable.” Katie smirked at her. “And very handsome, too.”
Trent was watching the retreating man on the horse, and was thinking of joining him, when Connie turned his way. “And who is your very handsome man?”
Katie pulled him by the arm as they moved toward chairs on the porch. “Connie, this is John Trent.” She waited for the name to sink in. It didn’t.
“How do you do?” The black-haired beauty let her eyes roam over him from head to foot. Her Mexican accent was suddenly thick as syrup. “I am the Contessa Maria Consuelo Gonzales Pelenque y Sanchez. You are most welcome to my home.”
He didn’t know whether to doff his hat, bow from the waist, or fire a twenty-one gun salute. Lacking the proper guns, and not knowing the protocol, he compromised. “Damn!”
“That’s what I said the first time.” The new voice came from within the house. “Of course I’ve been here a lot, so I’m used to it.”
The door behind them opened and a big man eased himself on to the porch. The truculent voice and mocking eyes set warning bells off in Trent’s head. Slowly, his hand went from his belt to resting on his pistol. The loop over the hammer was already off. His gaze met Katie’s, looking for direction. Somehow, she had led them into a nest of snakes, and he decided to walk soft, not wanting to step on the wrong one. Her eyes were on Consuelo, and he suddenly realized what had happened. He’d been in the woods way too long.
Consuelo was obviously flirting with him, Katie was gearing up for an old-fashioned clawing match, and another man was staking out the Mexican girl as his own territory, leaving Trent in the middle. This was just too damned complicated.
The man had stopped and was staring at him. “I know you.”
“I doubt it.” Trent replied evenly, watching the man like he’d watch a cranky copperhead. “And you are?”
“Pagan Reeves.”
The man said it as if the name was supposed to mean something. There was something about him that made Trent want to reach out and slap him. “I know the name, can’t say it’s nice to make your acquaintance.” This was one of the men Colonel Bonham talked about. Brutal and ruthless, Reeves was supposed to have no side but his own. The two men stood, staring at one another.
Katie couldn’t keep the news to herself. Pulling Consuelo to a table, they sat as she dropped the bombshell. “John is a United States Marshal.”
“A marshal.” At first, the Mexican girl was unimpressed, and then confusion took over. “Like, a lawman marshal?”
“The army assigned him to Big Springs to keep the peace and sort out the troubles.” Katie continued, seemingly oblivious to all the side-play.
“Alone?” Consuelo said in incredulous tones as she shuttled her gaze between Katie and Trent. “Have you seen the town since you have returned?” All trace of an accent was gone. “There are at least fifty mercenaries in town alone. They have just about run all the honest people off. We hear there is some big-cheese camped out in the hills, just waiting for everyone to clear out so he can move his families in. We need an army here, not one man.”