Marc Brandel - An Ear for Danger

Snarling, Dusty turned on Bob.

Bob moved fast into a karate position. He wasn’t as good a karate fighter as Pete, but he was strong and quick. He thought he could take Dusty if the man attacked him.

But Dusty didn’t attack Bob. He suddenly whirled at Brit. His arm swung around with his body. He backhanded Brit hard across the head. Brit staggered back. Bob moved forward, but the rancher already had his hands on the barrel of Brit’s rifle. A quick, strong twist and he wrested it free. Stepping back, he turned the gun on Bob.

Dusty sneered. “Okay, you jokers,” he said. “Get going. Downhill. And don’t stop until you’re out of range.”

Disarmed, there was nothing the two guys could do. If Brit made another move, Dusty would shoot Bob. They both started slowly down the trail. Dusty waited until they were a safe hundred yards away. Then he turned and started to climb toward Jupe again.

“Come on out, Fat Boy,” he called. “Come on out or I’ll start shooting.”

Jupe stood up. Dusty’s finger tightened on the trigger.

“Okay,” he said. “You can go join your friends in a minute. But first I’ve got a couple of questions I want to ask you.”

Jupe would have given anything to get a judo hold on the rancher. But with a gun aimed at his chest, he couldn’t move close enough.

“Where’s Brit’s father?”

Jupe thought fast. He had to make Dusty believe there was no one in the cave.

“He and Pete went to get some water,” he said.

“How come I didn’t see them?”

“The spring’s a couple of miles away. Around the other side of the mountain. You can’t see it from here.”

Dusty nodded slowly. He smiled. “So there’s no one but you between me and Villa’s loot,” he said. “Fine. Now move your fat behind. Go and hide with your friends in those gullies down there. Just keep outta my sight. And if you don’t want a bullet in your backside, move fast and keep going.”

Jupe shrugged. Assuming a beaten, crestfallen look, he started quickly down the path.

Dusty watched him until he disappeared behind the rocks. Then he lowered his head and, holding the rifle in both hands, he started into the tunnel.

Pete heard him coming. He was waiting just inside the cave. He figured Dusty would enter with his head down. A perfect target for a karate chop.

He raised his arm. With his fingers rigidly extended, his hand was as lethal as a two-by-four. One strike across the back of the rancher’s neck and he would drop to the floor unconscious.

Dusty emerged into the cave. Pete brought his arm down fast. But one of the burros made a slight noise and Dusty raised his head an instant too soon. The blow caught him across the shoulders. He stumbled forward. But he didn’t drop the rifle.

Pete was after him at once. He had his hand raised ready to strike again. But as he had shown outside with Bob and Brit, Dusty’s reflexes were trigger fast. He stepped back. The gun came up, pointed straight at Pete. Pete lowered his arm.

He figured he had one advantage against that rifle. Dusty had just come in out of the sunlight. Pete’s eyes had grown used to the darkness of the cave. If he moved fast enough, he might be able to surprise Dusty before he could shoot.

He feinted to one side, then suddenly spun on the ball of his foot. His right leg shot out behind him. His foot caught the rancher just below the chest, knocking the wind out of him. Dusty doubled up for a second, gasping.

This time Pete had just the target he needed. Leaping forward, he brought his elbow down on the back of the rancher’s neck.

The otoshi-hiji-ate , the downward elbow strike, did it every time. Dusty dropped to the floor. Out for the count.

He was still lying there unconscious when the other three guys joined Pete. Brit was handy with ropes and knots. He soon had Dusty trussed up like a steer at a rodeo. The four guys stood looking down at the helpless rancher. The two burros who had stood huddled together during the fight went back to their oats.

“Let’s take ten,” Bob said after a minute.

The four guys went outside.

“Okay, I know.” Jupe smiled. “It didn’t work out quite the way I planned. But Pete’s lightning reflexes took up the slack.”

Pete laughed and chopped the air. “These hands are registered weapons, you know.”

“Oh, right,” Bob said. “And my name is Bruce Lee. What’s up next, Jupe?”

“First, let’s get Dusty’s rifle,” Brit said. “Like heads, two guns are better than one.”

They hurried down the path to the clump of cactus where Bob had thrown Dusty’s rifle. They bent down, searching the stony ground.

They searched and searched. They went over every rock and crevice. They looked under every prickly cactus leaf.

The rifle was gone.

“Mercedes,” Bob stated. “She’s around here somewhere. And now she’s got Dusty’s rifle.”

Jupe was pulling at his lip. “I’ve got an idea,” he said after a moment.

“Here we go again,” Pete groaned. “More second-guessing?”

“I don’t think Mercedes is hiding around here,” Jupe went on thoughtfully. “I think she’s gone back to her base.”

“What base?” Pete asked.

“She unloaded those packs from her burro,” Jupe reasoned. “So she’s camped somewhere. And as Hector Sebastian told me, burros are faithful animals. They attach themselves to people. So if I take Blondie along to keep it company, Mercedes’ burro might lead me to her camp.”

“You?” Bob kidded him. “You want solo credit or something? Why don’t we all go?”

“Because if there are four of us, she’ll see us coming,” Jupe told him. “If I’m alone I can keep out of sight behind the burros. You’ve got to admit I’m a lot thinner than I used to be. Harder to spot.”

“You’re not exactly as thin as Ignacio,” Bob pointed out.

The others laughed. But Jupe’s mind was elsewhere.

Jupe had a hunch about Mercedes. It was kind of a wild hunch. All he had to go on was her contact lenses and a glimpse of her wrist by the light of a campfire. But as an investigator, he knew hunches sometimes paid off. Maybe, just maybe that wasn’t a scar he had seen when her watch had slipped down. The only way to test his hunch was to see Mercedes again at close range.

“Okay, you’re on,” Pete agreed. “But that woman’s got a gun now. Keep your eyes open.”

Brit brought the two burros out of the cave. “Dusty’s still tied up, hand and foot,” he reported. “But his mouth’s working fine. He told me exactly what he’s going to do to us when he gets loose.”

Jupe gave Mercedes’ burro a slap on its rump and it set off willingly enough. Blondie walked beside it. Jupe kept both of them between himself and the rock face, stooping slightly to stay out of sight of anyone above him.

The burros didn’t climb. They stuck to a more or less level trail around the mountain. Glancing up, Jupe could see entrances to other caves. But he couldn’t see any tracks leading up to them. And Mercedes’ burro kept going.

Without warning, it stopped.

Blondie halted beside it. Jupe flattened himself on the ground. A hundred yards above him was a cleft in the rock face. Taking advantage of every scrap of cover, he worked his way up toward it.

Mercedes’ burro didn’t follow him. But it didn’t move on, either. Blondie had found a small clump of sagebrush. Both animals started grazing quietly.

Maybe I’m on the wrong trail, Jupe thought. Maybe that narrow opening in the cliff isn’t the entrance to Mercedes’ campsite. I’ll get a little closer to it anyway, he decided.

Then a cold hand seemed to grip the back of his neck. He felt his scalp shiver.

There, not two yards from his face, something was sticking up from the ground. A rough wooden cross. Staring at it, Jupe could see the name carved on it.