The Lawman

Chapter Twenty-four

When Gilberto and Raquel Diaz reached Rio del Gato, they discovered that they were four days behind Decker.

They realized this when they saw his name in the register.

They asked about him at the hotel, and were told by Emilio that he was a “very nice gringo.”

At the livery they were told that he bought a new horse, a roan, and “practically stole it.”

They also heard the stories about the lake and thought it was nonsense.

Ernesto was in Raquel’s room when there was a knock on the door. When Gilberto opened the door and saw the “sheriff” he started laughing.

Ernesto, confused, looked down at himself and then asked, “Pardon, señor, are you laughing at me?”

“You are the only one standing there in that ridiculous outfit, aren’t you?” Gilberto asked.

“What ridiculous…?”

“Is that badge for real?” Gilberto asked, touching the star on Ernesto’s chest.

Ernesto backed away from the touch and said, “Please, señor. I am the sheriff.”

“Raquel, look what we have here,” Gilberto said, standing to the side. “The sheriff of this silly town.”

Raquel came to the door and Ernesto’s eyes popped at the sight of her. His cousin, Emilio, had been right. This woman was a beauty!

“Señorita—”

“This is my sister Raquel, Mr. Sheriff,” Gilberto said, correcting any wrong assumptions the man might have made about them being in the same room.

“I beg your pardon, señorita—” Ernesto said, executing a bow.

“What can we do for you, Sheriff?” Raquel asked.

“I, uh—” The sight of Raquel had reduced Ernesto to stammers and stutters.

“Is it not clear?” Gilberto asked. “The sheriff heard you were here, sister, and came to have a look.”

“Is that true, Sheriff?” Raquel asked, giving him an innocent look that started his heart pounding. “Did you come here to see me?”

“I, uh, well, the clerk downstairs, he is my cousin—”

“Maybe you could help us, Sheriff,” Gilberto said.

“Si, señor, it would be my honor to help the señorita—uh, to help you.”

“We’re looking for a friend of ours.”

“What is his name?”

“Decker.”

“Oh, señor Decker. Yes, he was here—uh, four days ago, I think.”

“Yes, that is what it indicated on the register downstairs.”

“Then, how may I help you, señor?”

“Did he say where he was going?”

“You are friends of his?”

Raquel moved closed to the sheriff and said suggestively, “Señor Decker and I are very special friends.”

“Truly?” Ernesto said, eyes wide.

“Yes, truly.”

“Did he say where he was going?” Gilberto asked again.

Ernesto looked around as if someone might hear them and then said in a low voice, “He said he was looking for a man with a price on his head.”

“How much of a price?”

“Two thousand five hundred American dollars.”

“And the man’s name?”

“Moran, Red Moran. I would never forget that name.” It was indelibly etched in Ernesto’s mind.

“Señor Decker is a bounty hunter?” Gilberto said.

Raquel looked at him and shrugged.

Ernesto, for all his fascination with Raquel, suddenly became a sheriff again, and frowning suspiciously, looked at them both.

“If you and señor Decker are such special friends, as you have said, why is it you did not know he was a bounty hunter?” he asked.

Raquel looked at Gilbert, who simply shrugged.

“I think we had better leave instead of staying overnight,” he said, ignoring the sheriff. “We still have some daylight and can camp on the trail.”

“Agreed.”

“We can find the others in the cantina.”

They picked up their gear and pushed past Ernesto into the hall. He watched helplessly as they went downstairs leaving him standing there, and then his pride began to sting and he went after them.

Downstairs he found Emilio in an agitated state.

“What is wrong?”

“Those two left,” Emilio said indignantly, “and refused to pay for their room.”

“They went to the cantina,” Ernesto said, hitching up his gunbelt. “I will go and confront them. I do not believe they are what they pretend to be.”

In the cantina Gilberto and Raquel found their three men and told them they were leaving.

“I would like a drink before we go,” Raquel said.

Gilberto agreed, and they were sitting at a table with a beer in front of them when Ernesto entered. The other three men were standing at the bar.

“Señor, I must speak with you,” Ernesto announced.

“Not now,” Gilberto said.

“Señor, I must insist.”

Gilberto looked at the sheriff, and then at his men, who were looking Ernesto up and down in disbelief.

“Look, Sheriff—if you really are the sheriff—I do not have time for you now.”

“Señor, I am in authority here—”

Raquel stood up and Ernesto stopped talking as she faced him.

“Look, be a very good boy and go away, all right?” she said sweetly. “Otherwise you might get hurt—or worse yet, your silver might get dirty.”

The three men at the bar laughed, as did even the bartender.

“Impossible,” the sheriff said, firmly, “no one gets hurt here. The spirit of the cat would not allow it.”

“That story of the cat again,” Gilberto said, shaking his head and looking at his sister. “The clerk told us about that. It is utter nonsense.”

“Please, señor, do not speak so of the spirit. You will anger it.”

“Look,” Gilberto said, standing up. The man was truly beginning to annoy him, and besides that, the wound in his thigh was throbbing. “My sister has asked you nicely to go away. So go away!”

“Señor, I am the law here! I must insist that you answer some questions.”

“I think I am tired of you,” Gilberto said. He took out his gun and pointed it at the sheriff.

“Put that gun away,” Ernesto said officiously. “It will do you no good here.”

“Gilberto,” Raquel said, “let’s leave this place.”

“In a moment.”

“Now!” She turned and jerked her head at the three men at the bar. They put their drinks down and left.

“Gilberte.—”

“First I want this idiot’s badge,” her brother said. “I want to make him eat it.” He tapped the sheriff’s badge with his gun and said, “Take off the badge, fool.”

“I cannot,” Ernesto said, looking shocked. “I am the law.”

“No,” Gilberto said, putting the gun against the sheriff’s forehead, “this says I am the law. Give me that badge.”

“Gilberto, this man is crazed,” Raquel said. “He is mad. He truly believes that the spirit of the cat will protect him from harm.”

“Then I must prove him wrong.”

With that Gilberto Diaz pulled the trigger. The hammer fell with a click, but there was no shot.

Gilberto’s eyes flicked to his sister, who was staring at the gun in his hand.

“Raquel—”

“Gilberto, let’s go! This place is cursed!”

Gilberto was tempted to pull the trigger again, but decided against it. Once could have been a misfire. Twice would be…

“Let’s go!” he said.

He took the gun away from the sheriff’s head and they hurried out. Their men had brought their horses around, and they mounted up and couldn’t ride out of Rio del Gato fast enough.

When Tomàs de la Vega entered Rio del Gato he did so quietly, without fanfare. He spent one day, eating, drinking, listening.

He heard from the liverywoman of the stranger who drove a hard bargain and “stole” a horse from her.

He heard about the incident in the saloon, when the town sheriff—a ridiculous-looking fellow—had stood up to a band of bandits and run them out of town. A lie, he thought, but then he also heard about the bounty that Decker was hunting, and he realized that the bandidos knew about it, too.

As for the story of the cat in the lake, he thought it was a pleasant diversion.

That night, as he went to sleep in his hotel room, he was convinced that trouble was stalking his amigo, Decker. From here on in Tomàs would have to travel much faster, with fewer stops, if he was going to get to Decker in time to be of some help.

In time to keep him alive.

He would not allow someone else who was close to him to die.