The Mission War Read Online Free Page B

Halcón?” Mono asked the Indian.
    â€œThe gap, ahead,” the bandit answered. His throat was dry, his voice muffled. His finger pointed out a notch in the jagged white rocks that stood like ancient sentinels. “Just beyond the gap.”
    A horse slipped and nearly went to its knees. The ground was uneven and rock strewn. The sun was fading fast, painting the white mountains with subtle shades of purple and orange.
    They rode slowly through the gap. Ki’s horse lifted its ears suddenly and it blew through its nostrils. Another horse, Diego‘s, nickered wildly.
    â€œThey smell it. They smell the water,” Halcón said.
    â€œI wish I could,” Carlos muttered.
    â€œI don’t want to smell it; I want to drink it, bathe in it, swim in it,” Arturo said. His spirits had risen again.
    They emerged from the gap into a narrow valley. There was no grass there at all, only bare white stone and thickets of nopal cactus. A single, long dead oak tree tilted out from its roots near the base of the white canyon walls, casting a crooked shadow.
    â€œJust ahead. Water,” Halcón said. Now Ki, too, could see it shining dully in the sunset light.
    Arturo’s horse broke into a run and he let it run. He laughed and waved his sombrero in the air. He reached the tinaja first and swung down before his horse had come to a full stop.
    They saw him against the sunset backdrop. He dived for the water. Then he recoiled, grabbed at his horse’s reins, and yanked it back. The horse reared up on its hind legs, shaking its head in angry frustration.
    â€œWhat is it?” Diego asked.
    Arturo just pointed.
    A corpse floated in the water. Or rather half a corpse. The body had been incredibly savaged, arms and torso flayed, the eyes put out. It might have once been a middle-aged Mexican; now it was a ghastly, rotting, faceless thing.
    â€œHold those horses away, damn it,” Mono shouted. “The water’s been poisoned.”
    â€œYaquis?” Carlos asked.
    â€œWho else?”
    â€œBut why?”
    â€œFor the hell of it.” Mono lifted his eyes. “Where’s the other pond?”
    â€œUp here.” Halcón had clambered over the white boulders to a second elevation. He scrambled back now.
    â€œWell, what’s there?” Mono wanted to know.
    â€œThe other half of him.” He tilted his head toward the body they’d already seen.
    â€œMadre de Dios,” Mono said, his voice quivering with rage. “Dying of thirst and those bastard Yaquis do this. If I ever find them, I’ll cut their throats, every one of them. I swear it.”
    â€œWhat do we do now?” Arturo asked.
    â€œDo? Go thirsty. Keep the horses at a distance. They’ll be hard to handle tonight.”
    Jessica Starbuck had been helped from her horse. Ki had been cut free of his saddle. Now they stood together as the little valley went dark.
    â€œTonight, Ki,” Jessie said in a soft voice. She didn’t look at Ki but at the sunset.
    â€œIt’s impossible, Jessie.”
    â€œWe have to try, don’t we?”
    Ki looked at the scowling dark faces of the bandits. “Yes,” he decided, “we have to try.” Even if it meant losing their heads, perhaps joining the dead man in the tinaja.
    They were immediately separated. The bandits started a small fire. There was only tinned beef and beans again with the few swallows of water which remained in the bandits’ canteens to wash the food down. Jessie didn’t eat. Ki accepted only a tablespoon of water.
    The bandits continued to complain, to curse, and to drink—they were out of water, but the tequila still held out.
    â€œDon Alejandro will pay well for these two,” Arturo said truculently, “after this.”
    â€œHe pays well,” Mono said.
    â€œHow do we know? Maybe he takes our heads too, eh?”
    The bandit leader replied darkly, “No one takes the head of Mono.