Marc Brandel - An Ear for Danger

Mercedes stood up, holding the rifle in both hands.

Jupe stayed low. The rancher had somehow managed to get the jump on Pete and Bob. Probably with that knife he was holding against Brit’s back. But as long as Dusty didn’t know he was there, Jupe had the advantage of surprise. He might still manage to tackle the rancher.

Mercedes had her finger close to the trigger of her rifle.

“I know who you are too,” she said in Spanish. “Senor Rice. And you are after Pancho Villa’s silver.”

“Right, senora,” Dusty admitted. “And so are you.”

“Okay.” Mercedes nodded. “But I know where it’s hidden. And you don’t.”

“Sure I do.” Dusty moved closer. “This young American and his father found it. And now he’s taking me there.”

“If he thinks he knows where it is, he’s wrong,” Mercedes said. “He only knows where it was. Where I found it yesterday. But I used my burro to move it to another hiding place. Put your knife away. Then maybe, as you say, we can make a deal.”

“Okay.” Dusty slipped the knife back into his belt. “Now we’re even. We’ve both got a rifle. But if you want to get that silver away from here, you’re going to need my help.” He glanced up at the mountaintop. “That thing’s going to blow any minute now.”

He was still moving slowly forward, holding Brit as a shield between himself and Mercedes.

“Stop where you are!” Mercedes shouted at him in Spanish. But she had realized the danger too late.

Dusty was staring at her. He sneered.

“You!” he spit out in English. “You fooled me for a minute in that Mexican wig. But I’d know those blue eyes anywhere, Grace.”

Mercedes had forgotten to replace her contact lenses.

And then things happened so fast they all seemed to happen at once.

Mercedes started to raise her rifle. Dusty stepped quickly aside. He aimed at Mercedes.

Jupe heard a shot.

The rifle leaped out of Dusty’s hand. It landed on the rocks five yards away. Dusty clasped his hand in pain.

Jupe jumped forward and snatched the knife out of Dusty’s belt.

He heard the sound of clattering hooves. Ascención galloped up. He was holding a Colt.45 in his hand. He leveled it at Dusty.

“Next time I won’t aim for your rifle. I’ll aim for your heart,” he said in Spanish. He glanced at Mercedes. She had her rifle pointed at Dusty. This time the safety catch was off.

“No,” Ascención told her sharply. “Let him go. If you kill him, we won’t have time to bury him. And that’s a sin. To leave a body to the vultures.”

He turned back to Dusty. “Get out of here!” he shouted at him. “Go find your silver.”

Dusty was still clutching his hand. He hesitated, his face dark with hatred.

“Go,” Ascención ordered him again. “Go to Pancho Villa’s cave. You won’t need Brit to take you there. You’ll find enough tracks leading to it.”

The rancher faced Ascención for a second. Jupe could see murder in his eyes. But Dusty was helpless. The breech of his rifle had been shattered when the Mexican shot it out of his hands. Jupe was holding his knife. He turned and set off along the trail that led to Villa’s cave.

Mercedes and Brit hugged each other. Ascención dismounted. “That stupid walkie-talkie,” he said. “I dropped it last night and I can’t get a sound out of it.”

Jupe looked up to the top of the mountain. Another plume of black smoke was rising.

“We’ve got to get Pete and Bob,” he said. “They must still be in Brit’s cave. We’ve got to get them out of there.”

Ascención put two fingers into his mouth and gave a piercing whistle. A moment later another horse came cantering toward him. Jupe recognized it as Dusty’s.

“I found her tethered down there,” Ascención explained. “Now let’s get out of here. Fast.”

Jupe mounted Blondie while Mercedes straddled her own burro and Brit leaped onto Dusty’s horse. With Jupe leading, they hurried off to Brit’s hideout.

They were a hundred yards from the cave when Jupe felt something sting his face. And then his hand. Shading his eyes he looked up.

It was hailing!

Hailstones the size of match heads were falling from the sky. One landed on his shoulder. He plucked at it. He couldn’t pry it loose from his T-shirt. Squinting at it, he saw it wasn’t hail. It was a tiny bead of glass, as hot as a drop of boiling water.

What was going on up on the mountaintop? Jupe couldn’t see. But it was trouble, for sure.

Urging Blondie to go faster, Jupe heard the two horses break into a gallop behind him. A minute later they all reached the shelter of the cliff face and drew to a halt.

Ascención grabbed the blanket that was folded under his saddle. He pulled out his knife and began slashing at it, cutting the blanket into strips.

“Go and look for your friends,” he called to Jupe.

Jupe crawled into the tunnel. Pete and Bob were lying back to back, curled up on the floor. Pete had just managed to unfasten one of the knots binding Bob’s ankles. He was working on Bob’s wrists. Jupe quickly cut both of them free with Dusty’s sheath knife.

“I thought you went out for pizza,” Pete said, stretching the stiffness out of his arms and legs. “So where is it?”

Bob was stretching too. He stared at Jupe’s head. “Is that the new in thing?” he asked. “Wearing glass beads in your hair?”

Jupe ran his hand over his head, trying to dislodge the beads. They were cool now, but he couldn’t comb them out with his fingers. “It’s hailing hot glass out there,” he said. “Come on, guys. Let’s move it!”

The three guys ran back out through the tunnel. The rain of glass had stopped for the moment. Ascención handed them long strips of blanket. “Tie these over your heads,” he said. “Try to protect your arms and hands too.” His own head and Brit’s were already covered. Mercedes had spread her shawl over her face and shoulders.

“Okay. We go,” Ascención shouted. Even Pete understood the vamos. He quickly mounted behind Brit. Bob vaulted up behind Ascención.

This time the Mexican led the way. Urging his horse down the twisting path, he headed for the valley below. When they reached the gullies that cut between the rocks, they snaked-on down them as fast as they could. They could hear a low rumbling behind them now. It sounded like distant thunder. The smell of sulfur was so thick they could hardly breathe.

And then it happened. They were less than half a mile from the cave when the volcano erupted with a roar.

A great fountain of red-hot lava shot up from the mountaintop, then fell back. More fountains rose, higher and higher, like fireworks. Lava bombs rocketed out of the crater with deafening booms. They pounded the mountain slopes, spraying molten rock wherever they landed.

The roaring red geysers on top blasted hundreds of feet into the air, arced over, spilled lava down the mountainside. Streams of lava flowed, met, joined. They formed burning rivers. The rivers cascaded over the cliff face and into the gullies below.

Hot cinders began to rain down on the fleeing people, along with more burning glass beads. The hail of lava debris startled the unprotected horses and burros. Ascención’s horse suddenly reared on its hind legs. It plunged and kicked so hard even Ascención could barely control it, and Bob had to tighten his arms around the Mexican’s waist.

“Bring up Blondie,” Ascención yelled.

Jupe spurred the burro into a canter.

“Between the horses!” Ascención shouted. “She’ll calm them.”

Jupe took a breath, then raced Blondie forward into the narrow gap between the two terrified animals. Gradually the horses settled down. As Blondie trotted on, they followed her.