Standoff
1232 Words
Chancho stumbled out of sight around the corner of Bravo’s at the same moment the door to the restaurant rebounded violently and slammed shut again.
“Why, Ranger McCutchen,” Daisy sang sweetly, revealing an edge of concern.
Chancho gathered himself and cursed under his breath when he realized he’d dropped his bundle on the boardwalk…just out of reach. The tractor parts alone represented half the season’s mohair.
“What on earth has come over you?” Daisy continued, now with an audible quiver in her voice.
Lightning quick, Chancho braved a glance around the corner. It wasn’t pretty. Even the fleeting glimpse told him the rinche was glazed with bloodlust. He’d seen the look of crazed zealotry before on the face of Villa himself. He couldn’t leave without his supplies, and besides, Daisy was in danger even if only he knew it.
“Out of my way, slut.” The rinche’s voice rattled from deep within his chest.
Without another thought, Chancho swept around the corner. He snagged the bundle in his left hand and remained low while rushing toward Daisy and the rinche. Daisy squeaked with fright as the rinche’s forearm knocked her from her feet. Chancho used her shadow to mask his approach. With the door of Bravo’s swinging open again, Chancho spun to his right, flung his bundle forward, and replaced it for the second time that day with Miss Lickter’s delicate frame.
Brushing past her backside as she fell, he embraced her at the last possible instant. Continuing to spin, Chancho lunged backward past the rinche. With a lightning flick of his wrist, he spirited one of the rinche’s .45s from its holster. At the same time, Chancho kicked the door of Bravo’s. The door caught the sheriff’s arm in the threshold and sent his pistol skittering across the boardwalk.
Losing his feet, Chancho and Daisy crashed down in a heap. Chancho managed to face the rinche while embracing Daisy with one hand and gripping the rinche’s own .45 in his other.
The rinche stepped forward with a second .45 pointed directly at Chancho’s head.
“It figures you would have two.” Chancho paused to catch his breath before whispering in Daisy’s ear, "That, señorita, was a dance.”
“Let the girl go, you coward.” Sheriff Lickter emerged from Bravo’s rubbing his wrist.
“Mr. Lickter, you mistake my intentions. The only reason I’m currently embracing your daughter in such an undignified manner was to spare her backside and her dignity from a bruising.” He lowered his voice again to a whisper. “One out of two isn’t bad.”
Squirming in his lap, Daisy endeavored to straighten her dress and recover her dignity which had indeed been bruised. Chancho pinched her lightly. She elbowed him in return.
“Your daughter is merely a guest in my lap, not a prisoner.” Chancho removed his arm from around her waist as a sign of his intent.
She gave him a sideways nod. “Gracias, Señor Villarreal.” He winced at the use of his surname. Brushing herself off, she rose to her feet and turned toward the rinche. “Now what’s all of this about?”
“Step away, honey. We’ve got business with this cretin.” The Sheriff reached for his daughter’s hand.
Daisy crossed her arms and stamped her foot. “Nonsense. All this man has done today is save me from a spill twice—the second time after Ranger McCutchen caused the matter.”
Chancho used the opportunity to get to his feet. Remaining sheltered by Daisy’s slight shadow, he kept the stolen .45 trained on its owner. The rinche glared, shaking visibly as Chancho leaned close to Daisy’s ear. “Would you mind inching my bundle just a few feet closer? I might need to leave in a hurry. Muchas gracias.”
Daisy looked at the three men in turn before deciding she might as well assist the only one of them who had been treating her like a lady. She bent down to drag the bundle of supplies closer to Chancho’s feet.
“I should kill you now,” The rinche spoke, his voice a mere croak.
“Well, señor, not from my perspective, but to each his own.”
Finished with her task, Daisy turned to face Chancho. Her breath came hot and close enough for him to taste. Despite the temptation, Chancho remained riveted on the rinche’s smoldering eyes.
Something told Chancho he would be dead already if the rinche had not wanted him alive. Reluctantly, Chancho decided this suspicion was his only card to play. “Now, señorita, I have one last request, and it is the most important of all. Por favor, stand several paces away, in the street.”
She hesitated before eventually conceding. As she brushed past him, he whispered one last thing. “And for the love of God, close your eyes tight.” Addressing the rinche, Chancho continued, “Now gentlemen, let us put down our weapons and discuss this misunderstanding like civilized men. Hmmm?” Chancho shifted slightly until he stood just left of his bundle. Placing the pistol in his left hand, he held it out prone and waited for the rinche to do the same thing.
The rinche spun his pistol, holding it by the cylinder and barrel instead of the grip. The two men’s eyes never broke from each other. Slowly Chancho bent his knees. The rinche followed suit. When the two men neared the ground, Chancho nodded and waited for the rinche to drop his pistol first.
A long moment passed before Sheriff Lickter broke the silence, “For God’s sake, McCutchen. Just drop it. What’s he gonna do? Shoot us all? After he let Daisy go?” Without blinking the rinche dropped his pistol and began to stand.
Chancho dropped his pistol as well. He grabbed his bundle of supplies while hooking his index finger through the loop of his bootstrap. Keeping the rinche’s eyes locked on his own, Chancho extended a nearly invisible rip cord from the side of his boot as he brought the bundle to his waist. Another few inches and the charge in the tip of his boot would detonate. God willing, the powder had stayed dry and the phosphorus igniter still worked.
Chancho hadn’t even thought about the custom addition to the boots for over a year, put there by his once best friend—the same Ah Puch he’d only hours ago been accused of killing for gold. Without another word, he leapt upward and clasped the front lip of the overhang with one hand.
The rinche reached for his .45 while the sheriff lunged for Chancho’s legs. Before either could be obtained, Chancho extended his other arm, heaved the bundle onto the roof, and detonated the chili bomb in the tip of his boot. With a small display of fireworks and an innocent pop, the feather-light dust burst into the air. Quickly spreading six feet across, the cloud of chili powder enveloped both the sheriff and the rinche.
Kicking his leg, Chancho swung himself up and onto the roof and bolted noisily atop the tin sheeting. Gunfire cracked as the rinche fired with only sound to guide him. Still, he came closer than Chancho would have liked. Three more long strides and Chancho decided it time to come back down to earth. Leaping the several feet to the ground, he hit softly and rolled. “Little Sister! Am I glad to see you!”
His horse, a tiny sorrel mare, snorted and nodded her head.
“Here, help me with these supplies.” Chancho picked up the knotted bundle and looped it over the saddle horn. His left foot in the stirrup, he slapped the horse on the rump while heaving himself into the saddle.
- Writer
