The House Of Crow Collection

10. Conspiracy

Hector rode toward the s*******r corral. He maneuvered his mount so he could see the hill he had just left. From the corner of his eye, Hector saw the Mountain Men disappear from view behind the hill. He turned his attention to several Indians who were scraping hides. The Indians quickly looked down at their work, intimidated by el jefe"s (the boss") glaring green eyes.

Hector took one more look around, then spurred his horse and rode off at a gallop toward the mountains.

As the sun peaked in the sky, Hector stopped in the shade of a tree and dismounted. He removed a canteen from his saddle and took a seat beneath the tree. Resting against the trunk, he opened his canteen and took a drink. From behind him, a voice said in Spanish, “I expected you sooner.”

Without looking back, Hector said, “Carlos and Hernando have taken a liking to the gringos. I had to ride with Carlos to show them around the rancho.”

The voice asked, “What happened to your head, amigo.”

“A horse kicked me.”

With a hint of sarcasm, the voice asked, “The gray the gringo is riding?”

Hector, scissoring his sturdy legs to stand, came to his full height and angrily faced the trees. “You could easily find yourself in the same hole as the gringos.”

“I meant no offense,” said the now taut voice.

Hector stared at the trees, visibly gaining control over his anger. “We will take the hides to San Diego in a week. Either on the way or before we leave, I want those two dead. Make it happen when I am not around, and if you can deal with Carlos, so much the better.”

“Consider it done. I owe the gringos for the deaths of my men. We missed Carlos at the hot springs because of them. It will not happen again.”

Hector, his back to the trees, mounted his horse, tied the canteen to the saddle"s pommel, and without another word, rode off.

From a distant hill, two vaqueros watched as Hector rode away. One of the vaqueros, Juan, said to the other, “José that looks like el jefe.”

“Si, I think you are right.”

“I wonder what he is doing up here and not stopping to speak with us.”

“It is certainly strange amigo.”

Unknown to the vaqueros, a man was watching them from the trees. From the scabbard mounted on his saddle, he withdrew a musket. With the gun in one hand and the horse"s reins in the other, he spurred his horse and moved through the trees above the two vaqueros. "It is a shame that you are here at this time," he thought, "pero, lo que es, es (but, what is, is)."