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Lost Rebel Gold
By Jim Colombo
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Copyright 2001 Jim Colombo
Summary
“The Lost Rebel Gold” is a story my grandpa told me several times when I was a child. Grandpa was a good storyteller and each time he told the story, more characters and events took place. The story is about stolen rifles traded for stolen gold. There is a story within the story about the two drifters who didn’t know that that had counterfeit money to buy stolen rifles. They hid out and stumbled onto the lost gold. They got caught, escaped a Mexican jail, and their truck ran out of gas close to the Arizona border. Buzz found them and had the standoff with the Federale.
A hot desert wind jumps up and blows tumbleweed across a dirt road.
The bouncing tumbleweed gathers two scorpions running across the parched
road. They get twisted and turned around, and are left upside down as the
tumbleweed moves on. The scorpions stand and a swirl of dirt momentarily
covers them. Confused, they run back across the dirt road to the safety and
shade of the first step of the Arrowhead Saloon. The cool shade under the
step is safer than the dangers of the Arizona desert. The monotonous hum
from the air conditioning fan outside of the saloon and the crackle of electricity
passing through a neon sign saying Cold Beer disrupt the solitude of an
outpost in a wilderness of sand and sagebrush.
A faded green ‘51 Chevy pick-up truck stops in front of the saloon and
parks alongside an Army surplus jeep. The Chevy is covered with months of
dirt, has assorted dents and scratches and is missing paint. The trailing wind
and swirling dirt surrounds the truck, then settles to the ground. The driver’s door
is misaligned from an accident and creaks open. A man gets out of the truck
and slams the bent door shut. His boot steps on the soft residual dirt lying on
the ground and stirs up a small cloud of dirt. He walks up the weathered wooden
steps, arousing the scorpions. They flex their stingers. An old collie dog lying by
the doorway at the top of the stairs stands up and barks. The tall man has broad
shoulders. He is wearing an old cowboy hat with a band of crusty dirt and sweat
around the brim. He pats the old beige dog's head. The blind dog recalls the
scent and settles down in the shade. The man opens the screen door and
enters the saloon. The screen door slams shut and wakes up a sleepy
afternoon. The old dog barks, then settles down. The man takes off his
sunglasses, looks around the saloon, and sees three familiar faces: Eyeball
Crowley, Potbelly Jake, and Santa Fe, the bartender. Behind the bar is a large
mirror with red and blue stained glass trim. Above the mirror in the middle is a
large buffalo head attached to the wooden wall. Its blank glazed eyes stare at all
whom enter.
The saloon is a two story wooden building that has faded with time. The
building has support beams with animal pelts hanging on each beam. A large
circular fan hangs from the middle of the ceiling offering some relief from the
desert heat. A stairway leads to the second floor. At the top is a booth with a
desk and pigeon holes for keys like a hotel. Single rooms line both sides and the
back of the saloon. Seventy-five years ago the rooms were the working offices
for ladies of the night who entertained the Sixth Cavalry. The Army protected the
citizens from the Navajo and Apache Indians. Cracks of sunlight peek through
the tiny holes in the red and white curtains hanging on the windows. Cigar smoke
curls in the rays of light and gathers at the ceiling. It is a dusty place with bowls
of empty peanut shells and the smell tobacco and beer. The man walks to the
bar and grabs a clean towel. He removes sweat and dirt from his face and the
back of his neck. He feels revitalized.
Santa Fe looks up through his thick store bought glasses that perched on
his tiny nose. “Howdy, Buzz.”
“Howdy, Santa Fe. Gimme a cold one,”
Santa Fe is a short, slender Mexican man. He gets a glass mug and
draws a beer. Most of it finds the mug. The creamy head overflows and slides
down the side by the handle. The cold beer has frosted the mug. He hands the
beer to Buzz and wipes his hands with a towel. Santa Fe combs his long gray
hair back away from his eyes with his hand and squints from the flickering
fluorescent lights.
“Thanks.” Buzz raises the glass towards Santa Fe and takes a refreshing
gulp. He leaves a quarter on the bar and walks towards his two friends. Santa
Fe slides his hand across the bar until it finds the quarter, and snatches it.
“C’mon and set a spell, Buzz,” says Eyeball. His left bloodshot eyeball is
twice the size of the other and looks like it’s going to pop out. It’s his all-knowing
eyeball that can spook a greenhorn at first glance when he’s playing poker.
Crowley is an old bristle-whiskered man whose prune face has deep lines carved
from years looking for the Lost Rebel Gold. He turns, aims, and spits into a
brass spittoon. Splat!
“Ain’t seen ya now on a month. Where the hell ya been, Buzz?” asks
Eyeball Crowley.
Buzz puts his beer on the round wooden table and slides his leg over the
back of the chair like mounting a horse. He sits low in the chair and peeks
from the brim of the weathered hat.
“Good to see ya, Crowley,” says Buzz. He grabs the beer and takes a
long swig. The white foam from the beer hangs on the bottom of his black
mustache covering some of the gray highlights.
“So where ya been?” asks Jake. Buzz stares at the left side of Jake’s
head for a moment. Twenty years ago an Apache scalped Jake in a knife fight
when he called the Apache a cheat while playing poker. Jake feels Buzz’s stare,
and puts on his loose knit cap to hide his missing left ear and scar.
“You two old coots gotta be the ugliest varmints that I have the pleasure
of getting drunk with.”
They laugh and their glasses clink as they toast one another.
“Well, Jake, you’re still as ugly as ever, you toothless old mutt. It sure is
good to be back,” says Buzz.
Jake smiles and shows his missing front teeth. “You sorry ass son of a
bitch. It’s good to see ya. Were the hell ya been?”
Buzz has been a fish and game ranger for the state of Arizona for ten
years. He is 36 years old and has never married. He is a tall, broad-shouldered,
muscular man who has been hardened from mending fences, chopping wood for
the potbellied stove in his cabin, and tracking poachers.
“I’ve been two weeks on the other side of the border helping the Bureau
of Indian Affairs track the three Apaches that killed Willie at the Trading Post.
I found him with his belly slit open. They scalped him and plucked his eyes out.
The elders on the reservation were sad how Willie had died, and said that they
would give him a proper burial. The renegades broke open the safe and stole
the payroll. They took guns, boxes of bullets, and cases of whiskey. Big Knife
said the braves headed south to Mexico,” says Buzz.
“Them’s Apaches, all right. They plucked his eyes so he’ll be blind
in the next life. You ain’t got no authority in Mexico. What if ya found them?”
asks Jake.
Buzz leans forward and looks into Jake's green eyes. He raises his voice.
“I’d bring them back dead. The Mexicans ain’t got nothing to do with it. Willie
was my dad’s best friend and he helped me get this job.“
Jake sits up in his chair. “Ya know the sheriff and his posse caught up
with them Apaches in San Luis before they crossed the border. The Apaches
killed a Bureau of Indian Affairs agent before they went down in blaze of lead.”
Buzz looks disappointed. “Do tell. I was hoping to catch up with them
and watch the coyotes feast on their innards.”
“That’s a fresh scar, Buzz. How’d ya get it? Trying to jump some young
Apache virgin?” Jake laughs and Eyeball joins the chuckle.
Buzz scowls, “Hell, no. That’s from a Federale. He grazed me.”
“Well, why the hell was he shootin’ at ya?" Jake waves to the barmaid,
"Hey, Nida, three more cold ones,”
A brown-skinned lady in her early twenties with long black coarse hair that
falls to her waist slowly walks over and admires Buzz. She is a half-breed
named Nida. Her father was a Mexican farm worker on his way to California.
Her mother was a young Navajo lady hoping to leave the reservation. Her tribe
would not accept a child who wasn’t pure Navajo. The night she gave birth the
elders left the child on the steps of trading post. Jake’s squaw Pearl, a Navajo
lady, went to the reservation every month to visit her mother. She heard about
the abandoned child at the trading post. Pearl and Jake had no children. She
asked the Bureau of Indian Affairs if she could take care of the child. Jake
eventually agreed to adopt the child to make Pearl happy. Nida filled the void in
Pearl’s life when Jake was prospecting or trading with the Indians.
When Nida was seventeen she ran off with a drifter while Jake and
Crowley were prospecting for gold. Jake returned and found Pearl sick with
fever from the grippe. She died a week later. A month after Pearl had died
two cowboys driving an old truck left Nida at Jake’s doorstep. They took off
hooping and hollering. Nida was no longer welcome in Jake’s home. He never
loved her and blamed her for Pearl’s death.
Santa Fe felt sorry for Nida and gave her a job at the bar cleaning,
cooking, and serving in exchange for food and a bed upstairs, but no wages.
The only affection or money she gets is on Friday and Saturday nights, when a
gent with ten bucks gets to mount a wild ride of pleasure. Nida is a plain-looking
lady with crooked teeth and a pocked marked face from a bad complexion, but
she is blessed with a toned, shapely body that glides and teases with feminine
grace. Nida has loved Buzz for a long time. Buzz feels uncomfortable when she
admires him. He tries to ignore her stare. He knows that she loves him by the
passion she gives him and the pleasure he experiences when he has ten bucks.
She saves his money in a jar hoping to buy a wedding dress that she’ll wear for
him some day.
Nida dreams about Buzz taking her to Hollywood to see the movie stars.
Her favorite is James Dean. She imagines living in a white wooden house with a
picket fence in front with a lawn and flowers. Three months ago on her birthday
Nida told Buzz that she would be a good wife. He looked shocked and wanted
no part of the responsibility of having a wife. The thought of losing his
independence choked him and he wanted to get the hell out of there. He started
to dress. She ran out of the room crying, and down the hall to the bathroom. He
felt bad making her cry on her birthday, and said he was sorry. She stayed in
the bathroom and told Buzz to get. The rejection reminded her of who she is.
Dreams are for white folks. Buzz left 20 bucks on the bed and walked out. That
was the last time they lay naked.
Nida brings three beers. She offers Buzz a forgiving smile that penetrates
his wall of silence. Her stare makes Buzz feel guilty and uncomfortable. He
offers a polite smile. She is aroused and her nipples beg for affection. Buzz
recalls the fragrance she wore the last time they loved and the warmth of her
perfect body. She feels loved with Buzz, not used like with the others. She
needs him again, even if it’s just for a night.
“C’mon Buzz, tell us what the hell happened.” Jake rubs his head with
the stubs of his index and middle fingers of his left hand.
Buzz takes his hat off. He takes a refreshing gulp an wipes his mustache
with his shirt cuff. “Well, two fools like you who still believe that the Lost Rebel
Gold is just waiting to be found got stuck on the other side of the border. They
went into Mexico with great expectations and left with barely their hides.”
Jake sits up and pounds the table with the palm of his hand. “I ain’t no
fool. It’s there."
"If it ain’t there, then why do so many go to the El Royo Basin on the
Mexican side of the border?” asks Crowley.
“It’s the dream, old man. Getting rich, being the one who finds what the
others have looked for a lifetime,” says Buzz.
Crowley turns, aims, and spit into he spittoon. Splat! “That’s the trouble
with you tinhorns today. Ya ain’t got no gumption and ya ain’t got no spirit.”
“I got spirit and I got common sense, you ol’ coot.” Buzz takes a long
swallow of beer. “I’ve heard you tell that story a hundred times a hundred
different ways. You forget parts and add new parts, Crowley. What the hell is the
whole damn story?”
Crowley dodges the question.
Buzz turns to Jake and asks,” Do you know the damn story? You’ve
spent more time looking for the gold than Eyeball.”
Jake begins, “Well, the way I hear tell, just before the end of the Civil War
one hundred Confederate soldiers under the command of Major Bramley went to
Mexico to trade guns for gold. The Rebs had stolen ten wagons with guns and
ammunition from Union gunrunners in Kansas and headed for Mexico. An army
of Mexicans led by Colonel Villa Senora who had fought with Santa Ana wanted
to take back what Mexico had lost in 1848. He mustered up an army of about
two hundred men called the Comancheros. They raided small border towns,
robbed banks, and rustled cattle from Yuma to El Paso. The Confederacy
needed gold and Villa Senora needed guns and ammunition. They met at Santa
Cruz, Mexico forty miles south of the Arizona border. Bramley traded the stolen
boxes of rifles and ammunition for gold bullion that Villa Senora robbed from
border town banks. It was a fair trade among thieves. Bramley and his men left
the next morning for New Orleans. Two days later at night while sleeping most
of Rebs were attacked by a band of renegade Indians and Mexicans near the
Texas border. The rebels fought as long as they could until they got captured.
The wagons and the gold were gone. The bandits tortured each man and asked
where the gold was hid. Every man died screaming he didn’t know.
“Three days later four survivors from the Rebel troop rode into Douglas,
Arizona, barely hanging on to their mounts, half dead from the desert heat, and
no food or water for three days. The Rebs told a story of six wagons filled with
gold bullion buried in Mexico. They spent a couple of days getting their strength
back, an the next morning they rode off. Thirty miles from Wichita, Kansas a
wagon train heading for Colorado found three of Rebs half eaten from vultures.
They say that Major Bramley rode off with the secret.”
“Seventeen years later three drifters rode in on a Conestoga wagon. They
sold the wagon and bought food, two pack mules, and horses. They asked
directions to the El Royo Basin in Mexico. They traveled south and crisscrossed
the basin for three weeks. Then one day from the high ground of the basin they
saw an Indian hunting party down by the dry creek heading north, so they
hightailed it west. They doubled back two days later and found one of the rebel
wagons half covered with sagebrush in a gully at the southern end of the basin.
Someone had carved the number three-four-one on the side of the wagon and
drew a mountain with a camelback. They climbed the highest point of the basin
and saw a mountain like the drawing east of the dry creek. It stood out from the
rest once they knew what to look for. Two days later they came to the mountain
and started to circle it. Around the back they found a mound or a large grave
with rocks arranged in three piles, four piles, and one pile. They dug for most of
the afternoon and found a wagon wheel. Under the wheel was thirty leather
Pony Express bags each filled with ten gold bars. They dug the length and width
of the site and found five more wagon wheels. Under each wheel was thirty
Pony Express bags filled with gold bars. It was the gold the Rebels had bought.
There was more gold than they imagined. A Pony Express bag weighed about
one hundred pounds. Each mule had a Pony Express bag strapped on and
each man put a gold bar in his saddlebag. They re-buried the rest of the gold
and removed the three-four-one marker. The treasure was on the east side of
the mountain by the bend in the gorge. They covered the site with sagebrush,
and covered their tracks as they rode down to the gorge. . They’d come back
with wagons and claim their fortune.”
“Now how do you know this for fact?” asks Buzz.
“Hold on, Buzz. One man arrived in Yuma with two mules and word
spread fast about a stranger with bags of gold. The man sold the gold to the
bank for cash and kept in the safe. He bought a covered wagon and hitched the
two mules. The next day the stranger moseyed in the saloon and told a story
about how he and two others had found a wagon that lead then to the site with
the Lost Rebel Gold buried under it. On the way back one man died when his
horse stumbled on loose ground on the narrow trail and they tumbled to the
bottom of the El Royo Basin. They took his gear and his gold, and buried him.
The vultures found the dead horse right quick. Two days passed and there was
a knife fight for the last canteen of water. The folks listening to the story figured
he was a cut-throat. The survivor took heed and left the saloon.
The survivor headed out of town the next morning. Two drifters found the
stranger dead in his wagon ten miles out of town about noon. His saddlebags,
supplies, and his horses were gone. The drifters started to bury the dead man.
They removed his boots and looked for identification. When they unbuttoned his
shirt they found a map wrapped around his chest. Two bullets had torn away the
details of the location and blood had smeared the drawing. The gold was buried
somewhere in the hills between Dry Creek Canyon and the El Royo Basin. It’s
still out there, bags of gold bullion waiting to be found. No one knows what
happened to the original map. Several copies were sold with the promise of
gold. So the story goes.”
Jake takes a long drink from his glass of beer and wipes his mouth. He
sits back and asks, “So tell me, Buzz, how the hell ya got the scar?”
Buzz leans forward and takes a long look at both men and begins, “Well,
you see there are these two greenhorns….”
“So tell me, Buzz, what’s the connection to the Rebel Gold?” asks Eyeball.
“Now just hold on there, Eyeball, and I’ll tell ya. So like I was saying,
there are these two guys Frank and Mike looking for easy money. They’re
hanging out at the Diamondback Bar in Yuma and hear stories about the Lost
Rebel Gold. Old man Hessman, the owner of the bar, sees two fools looking for
a quick buck. So he tells them that he’s made a deal with a guy in Mexico for
equipment for the bar. All they have to do is deliver a strong box and bring back
the crates. Hessman writes on the back of his business card the name Henry
Bombay, Bombay’s phone number, and his address in Nogales, Mexico.
Hessman tells the two greenhorns that Bombay is his agent and has the strong
box. He says that he has a bad back and the ride would be brutal, so he needs
the dudes to pick up the merchandise. He tells them that they’ll get $100 each
when they get back. It’s eight hours to Chinipas, Mexico and back. Hessman
tells them that if they ain’t back by sundown, Bombay is coming after them, and if
he don’t get them, the rattlesnakes or thieves will. ”
“These two hombres sure are green. Can’t the fools see what’s coming?”
asks Jake.
Buzz continues, “All they see is getting $100 each for a day’s work when
they get back. Hessman gives them the keys to his flatbed truck. The two dudes
drive to Nogales and find Henry Bombay. They secure the strong box in the
storage area behind the driver’s seat of the truck. It’s about the size of a lady’s
hatbox, made out of steel and rivets. Henry seems like a friendly man. He tells
the dudes that Hessman has mailed the key for the strong box to the seller, who
is in Chinipas, Mexico. Bombay tells them that just before they get to Chinipas
there is a dirt road that winds up a hill and down the other side for a couple of
miles, then there’s a barn and a junk car lot. They need to find a guy named
Paco. He’ll be with two other guys named Tuttie and Chaco.
“These dudes are in their early twenties, maybe just out of the service,
and live from day to day. Frank is tall and slender with long legs and does all of
the talking. Mike is average build and don’t talk much. Frank is always looking
for a fast buck, figuring how to make a big score. Mike tags along. They’re two
drifters who’ve never been arrested, out of money, just passing through. They’re
thinking that Hessman is letting them use his truck and trusts them with the
strong box. All they have to do is bring back the crates. They’re thinking they
just got lucky, maybe it’s that easy, just take a chance, and fast money.”
“They head out to Chinipas, Mexico 150 miles south of Nogales, to make
the exchange. Four hours later they find the dirt road one-mile before Chinipas.
They cautiously travel up the hill, then down the other side. They come up to a
barn and a junk car lot is in the back, just like Bombay said. They park in front
of an adobe house alongside the barn. Two beer bellied Mexicans with bushy
gray mustaches are sitting outside smoking cigars. One of them stands up
and smiles. Introductions are made. Chaco is the talkative one always smiling.
Tuttie is the quiet one and nervously smokes his cigar. They call out for Paco.
He’s older and walks slowly with a limp to greet the gringos. The two dudes are
feeling lucky. These guys don’t look like trouble. They’re too old and fat. Paco
takes a key out of his pocket and motions for the strong box. Frank asks to see
the crates first. The Mexicans laugh. Chaco walks into the barn, and returns
with an M1 rifle. He points the rifle at Frank, and tells him to get the box.
“Frank and Mike quickly unload the strong box and set it on the ground by
Paco. Chaco leans the rifle by his side and the dudes take a deep breath. Paco
unlocks the lock and opens the strong box. Bundles of $100 bills are bound
with green paper bands. The Mexicans smile and count how many bills are in a
bundle and check that they’re all $100 bills. Paco tells the dudes that he can kill
them now and take the money. He laughs, then Chaco and Tuttie join him.
Paco tells them he won’t kill them because Hessman pays twice the price for
stolen Army surplus.
“Frank and Mike look confused. Chaco and Tuttie go to the barn and
bring a crate. Chaco removes the top of the crate and puts the M1 rifle along-
side the other nine rifles in the crate. The dudes nervously watch. It‘s almost
noon and the hot sun is frying their heads and necks. They no longer feel
lucky. Paco counts the bundles of money and is satisfied, it’s $50,000. He tells
the dudes to load the fifty crates of guns on the truck and to take off. The
Mexicans sit in the shade while they load the truck. Frank backs up the loaded
truck, they wave to the satisfied Mexicans, and slowly take off down the road.
“Frank cautiously manages driving down the bumpy dirt road for a couple
of miles, then gets back on a two lane road and speeds north to Nogales. After
a while he slows down when the road changes from pavement to dirt with
potholes. They relax and enjoy the countryside for the next five miles when
suddenly a black car speeds up and someone is shooting at them. They drive
as fast as they can through the hills on the dirt road, missing the potholes.
Bullets are flying at them. The black car is getting closer. They zigzag and raise
the dirt. There’s a sinkhole in the road up ahead. The truck veers left and
misses it. The black car is blinded by the cloud dirt and hits the sinkhole. It
bounces off the road into a ditch, landing on its side, then rolls over the ditch and
down the hill exploding in fire. It was Chaco and Tuttie. Frank continues to drive
the truck to Nogales to meet Hessman, with one eye on the road and one eye
looking at the rearview mirror.”
“Frank and Mike arrive at the warehouse and sink into the seat from
exhaustion. They catch their breath and enter the warehouse. Hessman and
Bombay look surprised then welcome the lads. Frank tells them about getting
shot at. Hessman takes delight when telling them the money in the strong box
was counterfeit. Hessman and Bombay stare at the two, admiring their looks of
shock, then bursts into laughter. The dudes want to get paid and leave.
Hessman tells them that he’ll pay them when they get back to Yuma tomorrow.
"They’re thinking that Hessman isn’t going to pay them. They decide to
sneak out before sunrise with the guns and the truck and consider themselves
lucky. They can sell the guns and the truck in Mexico, and make big money.
Hessman and Bombay inspect the rifles. They are satisfied. Frank and Mike
have a smoke. They rest on two old sofas in the backroom. An hour later they
wake up to gun-shots. It’s Paco with three other men and they’ve got shotguns.
Hessman gets shot in the leg. Bombay and Hessman have handguns and return
fire."
"Frank sees that it’s a matter of time before Hessman and Bombay will get
gunned down, so Frank tells Mike it’s time to get the hell out. The gunshots are
getting louder and closer. They only have time to load one crate of guns on the
truck and head west with the headlights off. After a mile they turn off the road
and park behind some trees. Two cigarettes later Frank figures it's safe to go
west to Mexico. Paco came from the east. They get back on the road and turn
on the headlights. Two hours later they stop in the El Royo Basin to hide out for
the night. They're not sure where they are, but it's miles from anything. They're
cold and hungry, and safe for now."
"The next morning while heading north to Arizona, they find a wagon in a
gully. It has a drawing like a camelback mountain carved on one side of the
wagon and the numbers three-four-one."
Jake's get wide-eyed. “See. I told ya. It’s there!”
“Okay, Jake, settle down,” says Buzz and continues. “They start looking
for the mountain. Late in the afternoon they find the piles of rocks. They make a
map of the area on a napkin. They head for the closest town to trade a rifle for
food, water, and shovels. While loading their provisions on the truck a Federale
sergeant shows up and asks about the rifles. They don’t have a bill of sale for
the rifles and are driving a truck not registered to them. The sergeant arrests
them and takes the guns and the truck. Frank has the napkin with the map and
it itching to get back for the gold. The dudes spend a week in jail. They escape at
night with the help of a young lady who Frank promises to take to the States."
“Two days ago I found them a couple of miles south of the US border half-
baked from the sun. I was looking on the Mexican side for the Apaches who
killed Willie and started walking down a small hill when I saw them resting in the
shade of some scrub brush. I walked up to them and the short one stands and
waves at me. Their truck had run out of gas. They drank my canteen of water.
Frank starts telling their story as we start walking to my truck on the other side of
the hill. We get in and we’re heading back to Yuma on a dirt road when all hell
breaks loose."
“A damn Federale is raising a cloud of dust as he races towards us.
When he’s about a hundred yards from us he starts shooting and blows out my
left rear tire. I fight for control and come to a stop. Frank says it’s the sergeant
from the jail. The Mexican sergeant stops alongside our truck, points his rifle at
Frank, and tells us to get out of the truck. I grab my rifle and step out. The
sergeant says he wants the tall one. I ask why."
‘‘The tall one raped my daughter." The sergeant cocks his rifle and aims at
Frank.
"I cock mine and raise it at the sergeant. It’s a standoff."
“I going to kill the gringo."
"The sergeant emotions have got the best of him and he's shaking. What
the hell’s going on?" I ask Frank.
“Well, ya see, Buzz, his daughter helped us break out and…’
“ You lied to her. You had her and left her on the side of the road, you
bastard, says the sergeant.
“ Yeah, I lied, but I didn’t touch her. She said she would help us escape if
we took her with us. I said okay. Ya see, Buzz, she served dinner to us and the
guard each night. She put something in the guard’s drink and he starts choking.
She gets the keys and opens the cell. We get outside and she has the keys to
the truck. I’ll promise anything to get the hell out there."
“ You raped her and left her!"
“ No, sir. I didn’t touch her. She wanted to go to California. I said I’d
take her there just to get the hell out of jail, but I never touched her. Yeah, I left
her on the road a couple of miles out of town. She had an argument with the
guard the last time she brought us dinner. I don’t understand Spanish, but I
know the tone of an upset lady. She left mad and returned with the guard’s
dinner. He drank the wine and started choking."
“I don’t believe you. You lie, gringo. My daughter said you forced her."
“Mike interrupts and says, ‘She was real friendly with the guard, but he
ignored her. Then, like Frank said, the other night they had an argument about
something."
“ I have no quarrel with you two. Step aside. I’m going to kill the liar."
“No, you’re not. I aim my rifle at the sergeant.” Buzz pauses to take
a drink of beer.
Eyeball and Jake lean with anticipation as Buzz continues, “It’s a
standoff, and the sergeant aims his rifle at me."
“I will kill all three of you or the tall one. What’s it going to be?"
“It’s kill or be killed. I’ve never looked into the eyes of a man that I’m
going to kill. If I shoot first, it’s murder. If he shoots first, I’m dead. The rifle is
getting heavy, and my trigger finger is twitching on the trigger.”
“So, what did ya do?” asks Jake.
“I see smoke from his barrel and feel hot lead graze my right cheek. I
see smoke from my rifle, then I hear a shot, and see him fall to the ground. I
didn’t think. I just reacted. I walk over and kneel alongside him. He looks
surprised with a hole in his forehead. I’ll never know if he was a bad shot or just
trying to scare me off. The Mexican police ain’t going to believe my story, so we
change the tire, lay the dead man in his car, and get the hell out of there. When
we cross the border I stop to let Frank and Mike go."
Frank takes a folded napkin from his back pocket and says, “You saved
my life. I’m much obliged. You can have it. It ain’t no good for two guys wanted
in Mexico.”
Mike nods and both shake hands with Buzz. They wave and start walking
down the highway to hitch a ride.
Buzz continues his story, “When I get to Yuma I take a shower and get
clean clothes from my locker at the station. I kick back with some of the guys for
while and I write my report. Then I head on over to Molly’s for one of her thick,
juicy steaks sizzling on a mesquite grill for dinner.”
“Wow, Buzz. That was a hell of a story. Kind of like an old west shoot-
out. Both of ya aiming at each other, waiting for the other guy to make his move.
I bet your heart was pounding,” says Eyeball.
“I still see the look of surprise on the sergeant’s face.” Buzz takes the
folded napkin from his back pocket and puts it on the table. He slides it to
Jake. “What do you make of it?”
Jake examines the napkin and says with astonishment, “It’s a map. Its’
where they found the wagon. The wagon is east of the camelback mountain.
See, I told you its there.”
Eyeball looks at the map and smiles. “It’s a dream come true.”
Buzz takes the map from Eyeball and says, “A lot of men have died
because of this Rebel Gold. Maybe there’re some things that should remain
not found.”
“Now, Buzz, you ain’t thinking what I think you’re thinking,” says Jake.
“I’m thinking that I’d feel real bad if you two got killed looking for the Lost
Rebel Gold. I’m thinking that….”
“No. God damn it! No,” says Eyeball as he and Jake watch the middle of
the map ignite in flames and see their dream of found gold go up in smoke.
“Some day you’ll thank me, Eyeball,” says Buzz.
“In a pig’s ass, I will. God damn it, Buzz,” says Eyeball.
“Hey, Nida, tres cervesa. These two just got real thirsty,” says Buzz.
Eyeball and Jake watch the charred remains of the map twist on the
wooden table and settle as the ashes cool, then Jake wipes them away with his
hand. “I guess some things just ain’t to be found,” says Jake.
Nida approaches with three frosty glasses of beer on a tray. She serves
them, puts the empty glasses on her tray, and notices Eyeball’s and Jake’s looks
of shock. “You guys look like you saw a ghost,” she comments.
“Yeah, a rebel ghost,” says Eyeball.
She slowly walks away taking an occasional glance to see if Buzz is
admiring her. Buzz gives Nida a wink and she’s filled with expectation.
“So what the hell you two old codgers been doing while I was gone?”
asks Buzz.
end:jpc
