CHAPTER 33 “The first nice thing.”
“Enough of your stalling,” the Mexican sergeant growled. “You will tell me what I wish to know—and quickly—or we will stick you like the pigs you are. And we will begin,” he added with a crooked smile, “with the pretty señorita.”
Bowie must act immediately, or forever regret it. He stepped boldly into the clearing. “I’m late to the party,” he announced, “but ready to dance.”
The sergeant’s eyes flashed fire. Leveling his pistol at Bowie, the man kneed his horse closer. His face bore angry scratches and a purple mouse beneath one eye.
“I rejoice at our reacquaintance, Señor. At first, I was only interested in killing you. But that was before I learned of your quest for gold.” He paused, his beetle-like eyes scuttling over the group. “Now I intend to re
