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Updated: June 4, 2025
And whirling his horse round under spur, he was halfway back to the Olla gate before the lieutenant thought of signaling to Arguilla. From the vantage of the higher ground the lieutenant could see that the gate was already open that the Gringos were slowly pushing the cattle through, and out to the desert. He waved his serape.
"We're from the Olla about the cattle for your army," added Pete, no whit abashed as he proffered this bit of flattery. "Si! You would talk with the patron then?" and Arguilla gestured toward Ortez. "We got orders from Brent he's our boss -to make our talk to you," said Pete, glancing quickly at Brevoort. "How did you know that I was here with my army?" queried Arguilla. "Shucks! That's easy.
As the trusted agent of the financiers backing Arguilla, he had but recently been given the money for the purchase of these supplies, and almost on the heels of the messenger bearing the money had come Arguilla, who at once put Ortez under arrest, conveyed the money to his own coffers, and told the helpless Ortez that he could settle with the Gringo Brent according to the understanding between them.
Near him sat the owner of the rancho, Ortez, a man much older, bearded and lean, with face lined and interlined by weather and age. At the closed door stood a sentry. From without came raucous laughter and the singing of the soldiers. The sentry nearest Pete told Arguilla that the Gringoes had been caught sneaking in at the back of the hacienda. Pete briskly corrected this statement.
When he was handlin' stock from south of the line, in small bunches, and pushin' it through fast, we was all right. The Mexican punchers was doin' the stealin', sellin' the stuff to Brent. And Brent was sellin' to Arguilla's agent which is Ortez. All Ortez did was pay for it and turn it over to Arguilla.
Pete and Brevoort blinked at the three figures in the main room: Arguilla, who sat at the long table, his heavy features glistening with sweat, his broad face flushed to a dull red, had his hand on a bottle of American whiskey, from which he had just filled his glass.
You see, the understandin' with The Spider is, that I'm fo'man of the Olla, case Brent gets bumped off. Mebby The Spider thinks I'm square. Mebby he jest plays me against Brent to keep us watchin' each other. I dunno." "You figure Arguilla will send old man Ortez over the line with the cash?" "Yes. He will now. We done spoiled his game by gittin' loose.
You sure are some play-actor." "Play-actor nothin'! I was doggone near sick. I kin smell 'em yet. Say, I'd like to know what'll happen to them two Cholas." "Ain't you satisfied with what we done to 'em?" "Yep. But Arguilla won't be. I'd hate to be in their boots " From the south came the faint, sinister "pop! pop!" of rifle shots. Pete turned quickly toward his companion.
"The Americans have gone," he reported. Arguilla's bloated face went from red to purple, and he reached for his gun which lay on the chair near his bed. But the lieutenant who had reported the escape faced his chief fearlessly. Arguilla hesitated. "Who guarded them?" he asked hoarsely. The lieutenant named the men. "Take them out and shoot them at once."
Some thirty riders from the T-Bar-T, the Blue Range, and the Concho swept through the gateway and began shooting at the Ortez vaqueros. Arguilla saw that his own plan had gone glimmering. Ortez had in some way played the traitor. Moreover, they were all on American territory. The herd had stampeded and scattered. In the fading light Arguilla saw one after another of the Ortez vaqueros go down.
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