The Black Jacks

"I was," admitted McAllen bluntly. "And I don't like what happened there any more than I like what you and your men do."

"Gentlemen," Houston said with a sigh, "it's very entertaining to watch a couple of young bulls go at it head to head, but it really isn't accomplishing anything."

Caldero took another drink of aguardiente. "You are right, General. Your friend and I, we are much alike. I am thinking that one day maybe we will have to settle our disagreement. But not today. Today you have come to ask a favor of your enemy. But I ca

"Maybe because you're a romantic at heart," suggested Houston.

Caldero laughed and slapped the table with the flat of a hand. "You are right. I am a romantic. I am glad you did not say I should do this because I owed you a favor. If you had saved the lives of my men it might be so. But you did not save them."

"I wasn't trying to save their lives. All I wanted was for them to get a fair trial. No doubt they would have been hanged anyway. But at least it would have been a legal execution."

"A fine distinction," mused Caldero dryly, "and one that I am sure would have been wasted on them. But, even if I were to do this thing, there are many Comanche villages. Do you know which band took this woman?"

McAllen brandished the broken shaft of an arrow from beneath his dusty black shell jacket and handed it to Caldero, who glanced at the fletch and the markings and nodded.

"Quohadi," he said.

"The Antelope band?" asked Houston.

"Sí. They live on the Llano Estacado."

"So will you help us or not?" pressed McAllen.

"What will you do if I say no?"

"I'll find her myself. No matter how long it takes—or how many of your Comanche friends I have to go through."

Caldero looked long and hard at McAllen, and knew this grim and determined man meant every word he said.

Houston leaned forward. "Caldero, you know me. I've always tried my best to keep peace with the Indians. Even the Comanches. That hasn't been easy, since they've always raided our farms and settlements."

"As I said before, it is because you Tejanos are trespassers."

"I'm ru

"You're taking the wrong tack with this man, General," decided McAllen. "He's not the least bit interested in peace."

Caldero puffed vigorously on his cheroot. "I tell you what, Houston. If I help you, you must do something for me in return."

"What might that be?"

"You will state publicly that the Nueces River, in your opinion, forms the southern boundary of your so-called Republic of Texas."

McAllen stood up in a hurry. "Let's get out of here, General."

"Hold on, John Henry."

McAllen was incredulous. "You're not even going to consider that—are you?"

"Caldero," said Houston, "you know I could never do that."

"I know that now. Just as I know now that you are a man of honor, whose word can be trusted."

So it had been a test, mused McAllen as he sat back down. Had Houston agreed to Caldero's spurious condition the bandit leader would have known he was lying, and that would prove Sam Houston was the kind of man who would say anything a person wanted to hear. And that, in turn, would mark him as an unreliable, unscrupulous man, a man without integrity. Though a bandit, Caldero had a code of honor he tried to live by.

Caldero took another drink. "I tell you what I will do," he said at last. "I will try to find out where this girl is." He pointed at McAllen. "But if I do locate her, you will have to go and get her. It will not be without risk. But then you don't care about that, do you?"

"No, I don't."

"You will have to give something of equal or greater value to the warrior who owns her, if he chooses to trade."

"I realize that."

Caldero nodded. "What is this woman's name, and what does she look like?"

McAllen told him.

"And where can I get word to you?"

McAllen told him about the plantation at Grand Cane.

"Go there," said Caldero. "Wait for word from me. It may take weeks. Months. I may never find her. She might be dead."

"No. She's alive."

"Wishful thinking? We shall see."

Riding away from the adobe hut, stirrup to stirrup with Houston, and with Joshua and Dr. Tice coming along behind them, McAllen didn't say a word until they were deep in the brasada scrub and out of Antonio Caldero's sight.

"I'm glad you came along, General," he said. "If you hadn't, Caldero would have been shooting at me instead of talking to me."

"I'm not sure I've done you any favors, John Henry. This is a dangerous proposition. You'll probably lose your life before it's over with."

McAllen didn't think he needed to explain to Houston that if he didn't find Emily his life wasn't worth holding on to anyway.

"I want to know one thing," said Tice. "Why did Caldero agree to help? What does he have to gain?"

Houston and McAllen glanced at each other.

"Damned if I know, Artemus," said McAllen.

"It's either ego or gratitude, I suppose," said Houston.

"I don't follow," admitted Tice.

"Either he's doing this just because he has the power to, and wants to show us he has that power, or he's grateful to me for what I tried to do for his men a few years ago."

"He didn't sound grateful to me," said McAllen.

"Regardless of what he said, I'll wager Caldero was bothered more than a little by the way his men were executed. They were treated like common outlaws. I doubt that Caldero sees himself or his followers in that light and would appreciate it if others didn't, either."

"Why did you try to get those bandoleros a fair trial, General?" asked Tice. "All it accomplished was to foster hard feelings between you and the Rangers."

"Because I knew even then that Antonio Caldero was a force to be reckoned with. I knew those men would die no matter what I did. But since I'd have to deal with Caldero sooner or later, I didn't think it would hurt to have a card up my sleeve."