Deadfall by Stephen Lodge Read Free Book Online Page B

kept his prisoners.
    The Pritchards appeared to be somewhat uneasy in the colonel’s presence. Since their abduction several days earlier, neither of them had been allowed any food at all—until this morning. They had been given only water to drink while they were brought overland in the same coach in which they’d been captured. It had taken them some time to get there. Upon arrival they’d been locked in a small second-story room inside the adobe building, which looked as if it had been a bedroom at one time. Now, the following morning, both of them were wondering why they were suddenly being offered this special treatment.
    â€œYou will find that while you are the personal guests of Colonel Alfonso Natividad Armendariz, that starting now, you will always eat well and be treated like royalty.”
    â€œAnd just what exactly is that supposed to mean?” asked Kent.
    â€œExactly what it sounds like, señor,” said Armendariz. “I have just received orders that you should be treated as guests, and not prisoners, from now on.”
    â€œWhy did your men let my boy go when they took us?” asked Betty Jean.
    â€œMy men did not let your boy go,” said Armendariz. “He escaped. A small mistake was made by one of my men that allowed your son to get away. They are searching for him now.”
    â€œYou must be speaking of Señor Fuerte when you talk of a man who mistakenly allowed my son to get away,” said Kent.
    â€œNo, no, señor,” said Armendariz. “Señor Fuerte is who he presented himself to be . . . a security official hired by Don Roberto Acosta. Señor Fuerte most certainly does not work for me.”
    Betty Jean interrupted.
    â€œDo you have any milk, Colonel?” she asked.
    â€œI do,” said Armendariz, reaching for a goatskin bota that hung from a branch nearby. “I have milk and it is cold, señora. My women brought it from the creek just for you.”
    Betty Jean took the leather pouch and poured some milk into one of the glasses that sat on the table in front of her. When she was done pouring, she picked up the glass and drank. The sour taste turned her stomach.
    â€œOh, my Lord,” she said, almost gagging, “what is this?”
    â€œIt is milk from the goat, señora,” said the colonel. “I am sorry if you prefer milk from the cow . . . but we have no cows.”
    â€œNo, thank you,” said Betty Jean, waving the bota away. “I am finished with my breakfast.”
    Armendariz waved his hand and the two peon women moved in quickly, taking her utensils before scurrying away.
    Kent spoke: “We are not your ‘personal’ guests, Colonel Armendariz . . . nor are we royalty,” he began. “We are your prisoners . . . there’s no doubt about that. We are also United States citizens, who have been forcibly abducted and taken against our will across an international border. That’s a punishable crime in my country, mister. And . . . let me tell you something more, Colonel, the state of Texas, and my government in Washington, D.C., still do not pay ransom.”
    â€œIs that what you are thinking, señor?” said Armendariz. “Do you still think that my employer has ordered your abduction to collect a ransom?”
    â€œNot one red cent, Colonel,” said Kent, “that’s what you and your employer will get. Not one red cent.”
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    Both Pennell and Holliday had joined up with the rest of Charley’s little outfit, which, besides Charley, Henry Ellis, Roscoe, and Feather, now included those two, plus Sergeant Stone, Rod, and Kelly as well.
    The outfit, now astride their horses, with two newly acquired mules pulling Roscoe’s makeshift chuckwagon—a vehicle that carried food for them and their horses, plus supplies and Sergeant Stone’s mysterious toolboxes—were headed for the Juanita train station. That was because Charley had