An Angel's Revenge

By Evans Bissonette

Duprey's face took on a dour look. "Too bad! Be nice ta hit a ranch or two. Grab some more horses and cows."
"Don't go gettin' greedy. The small ranches aren't worth the trouble, and the big ones will have enough men ta come after us. I want ta put some space between our last job and Trail's End; otherwise, we could lose the herd or end up at the end of a rope. 'Sides, with the bunch we got working fer us, I think we already got a big 'nough job moving the herd we got."
"A few more bucks would be nice," Duprey added wistfully.
Holloway shrugged. "Play our cards right and maybe we could wrangle a few more bucks without too much trouble."
The idea piqued Duprey's interest. "How's that?"
"Trail's End has a brothel. They are always looking fer fresh meat." He gave a slight tip of his head toward the women from the stage sitting at the adjoining table before he continued, "Don't look now, but I think those three heifers would be worth some easy money."

• Language: English
• Publisher: Evans Bissonette
• Release date: Sep 20, 2017
• ISBN: 9781370440467

Evans Bissonette

ABOUT THE AUTHOR The author’s career spans 40 years in Information Technologies where providing documentation and training materials were a major part of developing applications. During this time, whether working on large-scale computers, PC’s, or networked systems, the author found the success of any applications highest if the materials were tailored to the audience to keep their attention. To keep his fiction and non-fiction publications separate, the author's non-fiction work, published under the name Mitch Sexton, include: •Pick-3 Lottery: Strategies and Tactics •WTF Are You Saying? •Listen To What You Wrote. The author's fiction works, published under the name Evans Bissonette, are: •The Ice Age Saga trilogy - books in this series include: oThe Shaman’s Song oThe Sojourner’s Tale oCrooked Foot In addition, he has published a historical fiction, •Explorer! The Adventures of Walter Wellman. While works of fiction, these stories are all written as action-adventure stories and are meant to entertain readers of all ages. These are not stories of what was, but more stories of possibilities, of what could have been. In many cases, notes are included to explain unfamiliar terms or expand on descriptions. The author and his wife, both retired, have been married over 45 years. They live in a suburb of Detroit and have three adult children. If you wish to drop the author a line, mail to: [e-mail] The author maintains a website, http://www.evansandrew50.weebly.com, where he writes about his books and ideas on the background he created.

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An Angel's Revenge

Evans Bissonette

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means without the written permission of the publisher. An exception is made in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews. Thank you for your support and for respecting the property and hard work of this author. It is appreciated.

All trademarks or registered trademarks are the property of their respective owners.

Copyright © 2016 Evans Bissonette

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McCoy and Sexton, Publishers

DEDICATION

Dedicated to my favorite reader, my best evaluator, my best friend, my wife Sue. Thanks also to my family for their constant support and encouragement during this project.

I also need to recognize that this book would not be the book it is, had it not been for the support I received from all the members of both of my writer critique groups—The Sunrise Writers, and The Sunset Writers—for having freely provided their feedback and encouragement.

It is my belief that if everyone had the support of family and friends such as I have had, we would live in a much better world.

Finally, this book is about human trafficking. Historically, this activity has existed from the very early days of human life. It has survived the rise and fall of many empires. While we may like to believe this activity only occurred in the past, or, maybe in Third World environments, it is not true. It is rampant even today and in many countries including our own. With that in mind, I am dedicating this story to all who suffer, or who have suffered, because of human trafficking.

CONTENTS

Chapter 1 The Village

Chapter 2 la Hacienda

Chapter 3 Bargaining

Chapter 4 The Roadhouse

Chapter 5 Stage Coach

Chapter 6 Aftermath

Chapter 7 Banditos

Chapter 8 Attacked

Chapter 9 Little Brown Jug

Chapter 10 Regroup

Chapter 11 Lessons

Chapter 12 Languages

Chapter 13 Returning

Chapter 14 Stampede

Chapter 15 Trail's End

Chapter 16 Preparation

Chapter 17 Inspection

Chapter 18 A Wake and a Funeral

Chapter 19 Banker, Gun Slinger, Cattle Thief

Chapter 20 Reckonin'

Chapter 21 Honeymoon Suite

Chapter 22 Message to the Motherhouse

Chapter 23 Preparations

Chapter 24 Shocking Events

Chapter 25 Wedding Celebration

Chapter 26 Saint Final Del Sendero

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Chapter 1: The Village

(return)

Ahead of the herd by two days, Jack Duprey made camp on a hill overlooking Rio Arriba and waited for the others to catch up. Yesterday, right after he arrived, he set to work on the list of tasks Holloway had given him. Then, during the slack time that followed, he inspected his mount and his packhorse, paying particular attention to their hoofs, being careful to use extra caution around their shoes. Any problem found, no matter how small, he made sure to take care of while he was here. Easier ta take care of problems here than trying ta deal with a lame horse on the trail, he mused.

Today, in anticipation of the herd's arrival, Duprey rose with the morning sun and began grooming his pinto. It was not long before the bellowing herd, still distant, began making their pending approach known, their cries becoming louder with each passing moment. Shifting the brush in his hand, Duprey made another pass over his pinto's sides while his packhorse grazed. It's funny how I ended up here. A couple of days ago I was eating dust at the tail end of the herd when Mister Holloway reined up next ta me. He sent me because he knows that I follow orders ta the letter and pay attention ta detail. That's why since the drive started, Holloway has spent extra time with me in order ta show me what ta do. He said this was gonna be his last drive. When we're finished, he's gonna retire and make me boss.

Stingy with words, Holloway's instructions had been terse, but clear. We're less than three days out of Rio Arriba, that's the place I've been calling Trail's End. I need ya ta ride ahead and let them know we're comin'. It should take ya no more than a day-and-a-half ta get there. Almost as an afterthought, the older man added, After that, get some trail supplies and make camp at the crest of the small hill just outside of town. I camped there last year when I came through. It's a good spot overlookin' the town and the river. You'll be plainly visible to those in town. The herd can graze on the nearby meadow until the buyers can take 'em.

Plainly visible? Won't that be a problem after we collect payment? Why every group of get-rich-quick no-accounts will be ready to jump us.

Yup! Holloway agreed. It's good to see you're catchin' on to the ways of the world. After we collect our pay, we'll bed down for the night, but shortly after sunset we abandon the camp, and beat a quiet retreat to a new site.

A new site? Where would that be?

Up the trail near the fork between Fort Gibson and Fort Smith.

Always careful, Duprey continued to rub down his horse until the herd began to emerge from the scrubland, and the lead cows headed for the lush meadow. It was time for him to saddle up.

Through the dust and confusion, Duprey saw his boss atop his chestnut gelding, pointing and shouting orders to his men. Holloway waved his black bowler about fiercely as if that simple hat could influence a belligerent longhorn or a slow-witted hand. Spotting Duprey, Holloway rode up and came to a halt facing him.

Below them, the village, simple houses stretched from the walls of the old hacienda on one end to the adobe church on the other, lay quiet in the early morning light. A trail led from the meadow to a set of small corrals. Counting chutes connected these to a much bigger one. From there, another chute led to a holding pen near the river's edge.

Yer earlier than I expected, Duprey said.

Holloway nodded toward the midst of the herd where a pair rode double. It was Juan Fernandez and the girl, Holloway's captive, working the herd. I've been looking ta sell her ta the brothel in town. We lost Benoit in a stampede yesterday, and the others are gettin' rebellious. They said they should've had their fun when we first stole her and then left her body behind. Now they're afraid she's a witch or somethin', that puts a curse on anybody who rides with her. I had ta tie her up in order ta get Fernandez ta let her ride with him. I was having more 'n more trouble keeping a blanket on that fire, so I decided we should push through the night. What're the arrangements here?

Satisfied that the herd was flooding into the meadow on their own, the surviving drovers, Renegade Joe and Juan Fernandez, still carrying the girl, left the herd and rode up.

With a jerk of his head, Duprey nodded toward the village. They said they're ready fer us, Cap'n.

Good, Holloway said. What kind of prices are they offering?

Hoping his news would lift the men's tired spirits, Duprey beamed as he gave the details. The banker, Mr. Cabe, said his man Hodges would look over the herd when it arrived. If they look good, he authorized Hodges ta offer us up ta five dollars a head fer cows, ten dollars fer horses, and fifteen dollars fer mules. What's more, they'll change the brands as the animals come through the chutes so nobody will be the wiser.

Holloway's eyebrows shot up. Prices sound a lot more generous than Cabe usually gives.

Duprey pushed his hat back and took a breath. I nosed around the stockyards before I went ta see Cabe. It paid off because I found out they weren't in a good trading position since they have buyers comin', but they don't have cows. Ta add ta their troubles, Cabe got himself a riverboat and some barges. Both the buyers and the riverboat are due here ta make a pick-up in the next few days. Hearing all that, I knew I was in a better situation ta barter than Cabe. In the beginning, he didn't offer much, but I mentioned that ya were considering pushing on, maybe ta Fort Gibson or ta Fort Smith since they're only a couple of days further on. That loosened his purse strings.

The two drovers had been listening quietly, but now Renegade Joe broke the silence. Well, Holloway, it looks like we're here and the boy got us a good price. Wha'cha gonna do now? The leather bindings creaked as he stirred in the saddle, the sound voicing his discomfort. Was it from the long ride or from confronting his superior? Holloway didn't know, but he could guess.

Always aloof, Holloway didn't mix with his drovers, except for Duprey, whom he treated like a son. As boss, Holloway governed with strict rule. When he gave orders, he wanted them carried out without discussion. Speaking without looking at any of the other men, particularly not at his challenger, Holloway told Duprey, Bed the herd down here, have the men make camp. With a nod of his head toward the pens, he added, As soon as they're ready down there, start moving the animals ta the counting chutes. Move 'em along as fast as the men there can handle the load.

Duprey nodded. Right! The branding irons are hot, the hands at the corral are ready ta change the brands, if needed, and they will count each animal as it passes by. We'll move groups down as fast as the corral men can handle them.

Holloway allowed his horse to graze for a moment before adding, Sounds good. I'll take the gal with me. I got other business.

Renegade Joe didn't know when to quit. Ya act like ya don't trust us with her.

Holloway's patience had just about run out. He gave his challenger a scorching look. The reason I lead and ya follow is that ya never think beyond the end of yer pecker. The brothel is in the hacienda not here. If we're gonna make any money on her, I need ta parade her around down there. Turning in his saddle, he motioned for Fernandez to move up and make the transfer. While he waited, he turned back to his challenger. We're here at Trail's End. Ya heard Duprey give the prices, so ya know that by the end of the day we're all gonna walk away with a pile of money. In short, yer gonna be able ta buy yer fun about anywhere. So, do yer job and be patient.

Chapter 2: la Hacienda

(return)

Just inside the livery stable, an elderly Mexican took a break from spreading fresh straw to eye the pair riding double as they trotted toward him. The man on the horse, a gringo, moved with the all too familiar ease of a gunfighter. Another one of many that seemed to come and go all too regularly.

A young woman shared the back of the gunfighter's ride. Dirt covered, she looked exhausted. He could not tell if she was Mexican or if her dust-covered poncho and mismatched clothes suggested that.

She seemed to be dressed in a mixture of castoff pieces that included at least part of a nun's habit. Torn from the ankle to a point above the knee, it let her ride astride and still maintain some level of modesty. If she was a nun, she had long ago lost her veil as her unkempt hair streamed out from under a sombrero much too large for her.

Holloway pulled up at the livery. We're here. Git down.

Clutching the saddle, the young woman flung a leg over the back of the horse and slid off. It was then that the liveryman noticed the woman's hands were bound in front of her.

Holloway dismounted, tossed the horse's reins to the liveryman, and said, Take good care of him, food, water, and a good rubdown. I'll be leaving here later today.

He took his rifle from its saddle case, turned to his companion, and said, Come on and be quick about it! Now's no time fer ya ta be dragging yer feet. He spoke gruffly as if he was forcing himself to do something he found distasteful. Without another word, he turned on his heel and headed up the street toward the cantina knowing that the woman would follow, no matter how reluctantly.

The old Mexican took a moment