ALONG THE MEXICAN BORDER

By

Michael Edwin Q.

For the past three days, Texas Ranger Dan Parker had been riding…riding hard. He was still heading south as the sun began to set in the west. Colors of orange, red and purple flooded the prairie sky. Shadows of the tall barrel cactus grew longer by the minute. He had eaten nothing for the past three days save for Mexican dust, and his horse was starting to froth at the mouth from exhaustion. It was time to stop…just for a short time…just long enough to rejuvenate, and then continue.

Off to his right; off in the distance he could see a small Mexican village; he could make it there before sunset.

He rode into town slowly; it was like a thousand other small Mexican villages. He made his way to the heart of town. Surely there would be a Catina, the social center of the village, someplace where he could get a shot or two of Tequila and some information. Such as where could he find some water and oats for his horse, and somewhere he could find a bed for the night for himself. But especially, was there any word of the whereabouts of Juan Vega.

Juan Vega was a small-time bandito, a fly in the ointment, nothing to get your shorts in a bind about. But now he overstepped his bounds; he robbed the Santa Cruz Citizen’s Bank in Texas, along the Mexican Border.

Texas Ranger Dan Parker hated going below the Mexican Border in pursuit of a criminal; but he wholeheartedly volunteered to go after Vega. They ordered Parker to bring back Vega dead or alive. It didn’t matter to them, but it mattered to Parker. Nothing would bring him more satisfaction than to bring Vega back dead; his limp dead body slung over his horse.

Parker made his way to the center of this nameless village; and sure enough, there was the cantina. Parker stopped; he dismounted and tied his horse to the post in front of the cantina. He couldn’t believe his good luck. There was the horse of Juan Vega tied to the post.

Parker cocked his gun, but left it in his holster. There was no door leading into the cantina, just a doorway –a gaping hole in the center of an adobe wall. Parked walked in slowly; it took a second for his eyes to adjust to the darkness. There was a lone bartender, and a small group of old men at a table playing dominoes. Seated at a table at the farthest end of the Catina was Vega, one hand he held a shot of Tequila, the other arm was around a robust, big-breasted, brown-eyed, Mexican beauty –obviously an employee of the Catina.

“Vega!” shouted Parker, standing in the doorway.

In a flash, Vega dropped the shot-glass and reached for his gun, with his other hand he pulled the young woman in front of him as a shield. Shots went off! Vega, being in a poor position, missed his mark. Parker got off two shots, one sadly found its way to the heart of the poor young woman, the other into Vegas’ gun-hand. The woman’s body fell to the floor, as did Vegas’s gun. The four old men playing dominoes were out the door in an instant.

“Ok, Vega, raise your hands up, slowly,” said Parker.

A moment went by; nothing changed, Vegas sat there mummified.

“I said, reach for the ceiling,” shouted Parker.

Still nothing…there was no movement from Vega.

“He doesn’t understand English,” said the bartender as his head slowly popped up from behind the bar.

“Then you translate for me,” demanded Parker. “Tell him to raise his hands.”

The bartender said a few words in Spanish, and Vega complied.

“Tell him this, word for word,” said Parker, “Tell him, nothing would bring me more pleasure than to shoot him right here and now. Tell him, I want to know where the money is; and if he doesn’t tell me…if he doesn’t come clean…I’ll blow his damn head off.”

The bartender turned to Vega and interpreted what Parker said.

“The Gringo says if you don’t tell him where the money is he is going to kill you.”

With his hands held high, Vega answered, “Tell him, there is a well at the edge of town, the third rock from the top on the north side, I placed the money behind that rock. For mercy’s sake, tell him that!”

The bartender turned to Parker. “He says he will never tell you were the money is; he would rather die.”

“If that’s the way he wants it, I’d be glad to oblige,” said Dan Parker, Texas Ranger as he pulled back on the trigger.

THE END

Connect with the Author
michaeledwinq.com