Sundance 20 by Peter McCurtin

Author:Peter McCurtin
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: slavers, winchester rifle, colt 45, john benteen, jim sundance, peter mccurtin, western fiction ebook, fiction fo the old west, general george crook, sharps 50 calibre
Publisher: Piccadilly

Nine

They walked in silence until they were halfway across the plaza. Then Jorge spoke and there was no feeling in his voice. ‘I am going to have a drink, a lot of drinks. Don’t try to stop me, Sundance.’

On the plaza stores and cantinas were opening for the business of the day. An old man leading a wagon loaded with chickens in crates cursed his mule for not going fast enough. Dwarfed by the great doors of the cathedral, an old priest with long white hair stood reading from a prayer book.

‘What you do is your business,’ Sundance said. He waited outside a cantina while Jorge went in and came out with two bottles of mescal.

Jorge uncorked a bottle with his teeth and drank from it, shuddering as the raw spirit went down. ‘I have to think,’ he said. ‘Silvestra’s death has changed everything.’

They walked on and Sundance let him talk. Jorge said, ‘I despise Montoya, but he’s right. So I despise myself even more. What did Montoya say? I spout from my damned law books, but it is the Indian who is dead. Silvestra, the Indian, is dead—and what am I going to do about it?’

Now they were back in Jorge’s quarters and a good part of the first bottle was gone. Jorge sat down heavily and swept the law books off the table with his arm. He set down the bottles and pointed to the long-barreled Colt holstered at Sundance’s side. ‘You were right too,’ he said bitterly. ‘Right when you said only guns can settle this. Everybody is right but me. You, Montoya—everybody except Jorge Calderon, the great advocate and champion of the Indians.’

Jorge spilled mescal on his shirt as he drank. When he saw what he had done, he laughed again. ‘My new shirt, my new clean shirt,’ he said, already half drunk. ‘What the hell does it matter? Won’t be needing it. Don’t need to wear a clean shirt to kill a man. All this time I’ve been blind or maybe I didn’t have the nerve. I studied my law books and thought the answer was there. Then I wrote letters to the newspapers and got up petitions—and all the time the answer was right in front of my nose.’

‘You mean killing Lucas Bannerman.’

‘That’s it—kill Bannerman.’

Jorge took another swig of mescal, this time without shuddering. ‘I changed it back,’ he said. ‘What happened to Silvestra made me change it back.’

‘You think you’re going to kill Bannerman. Tell me how.’

‘I won’t talk. This time I won’t talk—I’ll do it. Bannerman is a man so he can be killed like any other man.’

‘No, not just like any other man. He’s tough, smart and well guarded. You won’t even get close to him. All you’ll do is get killed. His pistoleros will gun you down before you get off a shot. Where will that leave your case?’

‘Shit on the case!’ Jorge drank again and smashed the empty bottle against the wall. ‘I'll get to him and I’ll kill him.

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