Sorrowful: Chase the Devil

By Robert Reynolds

A cattle drive becomes trouble for the Fairchild boys when banditos enter the scene in the Texas town of Sorrowful.  Murder and mayhem ensue--and then a life or death chase across Texas begins.  SORROWFUL is a rip-roaring, old-time western tale filled with good guys, bad guys, pretty maidens, and plenty of nonstop action.  If you like western stories, you will love SORROWFUL!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Robert Reynolds
• Release date: Feb 18, 2021
• ISBN: 9781393836568

Robert Reynolds

Based in Calgary, Robert is an emerging author who spends his days working in the oil and gas industry but has been a big fan of the spy thriller genre ever since his childhood when he read one of his grandfather's original James Bond paperbacks from the late 50's. He is married with a young daughter and when he's not day dreaming about dangerous adventures in exotic locales he enjoys running and other outdoor pursuits.

Book preview

SORROWFUL

Part One

Chapter 1

Trouble had come to Matamoros.  There was always trouble.  An exchange of favors.  Whispers of illicit affairs.  Rumors of partners cheated on.  Misunderstandings.  Lies and liars.  Threats and shame, then flight.   

The old oak door burst open unexpectedly, slamming heavily against the adobe wall, splintering the doorframe and chipping off chunks of mud and straw brick.  It flew across the stifling, dingy room, scattering like seeds of corn.

The enraged, tangle-haired woman lunged with a knife, but the startled, bare-bellied man grasped her suddenly flailing wrist before the blade could do damage.  The woman fought ferociously as the frightened man held tightly to her wrist, twisting firmly until the knife fell to the floor with a clatter and, in the scuffle, kicked aside.  The two of them struggled as he pinned her against the earthen wall, all the while her shrill voice shrieking disgust and vile threats, until he could grab up his clothing and flee.  The dervish kicked wildly at him as he made for the door, sending him stumbling over an old woman selling tortillas and beans in the narrow alley.   

Have you no shame, Ricardo! she screamed after him with the fierceness of the legendary chupacabra.  Do not come home with the scent of that she-devil on you! 

Splattered with the old woman’s scattered frijoles, he righted himself, then ran like a wild dog from his half-mad esposa. 

"You are a feelthy animal!  Do not show your face at my home!"

By then, to the surprise of others, especially the poor old woman selling tortillas, Ricardo the unfaithful had scampered around a corner, pulling his rumpled clothing on the best he could.  He was but a blur of color and cloth as he hightailed it down the dusty alley, one leg in his pantalones, one leg out. 

Perspiring from the oven of a room and half-blinded by the sweat in her eyes, Maria Cantu tried to shield herself as the other woman sprang at her with claw-like fingers, but Maria was cornered. 

"Diablo!  You are an evil devil!  You do not belong here!" the spurned woman screamed.  Maria tried to push away, but the other one came at her with the fury of a warrior.  The angry woman’s nails raked like claws, like talons, across Maria Cantu’s bare shoulders.  Parallel streaks of droplets sprung up along the new wounds, scarlet beads running in small, swift rivulets down her sweaty flesh.  At last someone pulled the scorned one away and Maria made her escape, fleeing along the bean-strewn trail of her lover. 

Word soon came to the barrio that the cheated woman had enlisted a distant relative whose reputation bordered on cruelty.  It seemed that most had in that dusty enclave had similar resources when they sought retribution.  The man had inquired about her at the Mercado, the market, but Maria had avoided him so far. 

You must go! those who knew Maria Cantu advised.  Go far from here where you will be safe!

I know of no other place, Maria had said, eyes downcast.  She was shamed now and without shelter.

"I know of a familia that is leaving, crossing the muddy Rio Grande into Texas.  I shall speak with them."  The family knew of Maria, too, having heard the sordid stories that were being whispered. 

It is not a good thing, Señor Delgado cautioned his wife.  We do not need to share her troubles.

We cannot stand by and allow harm to come to another, Señora Delgado argued.  She had known the Cantu family from years past and felt indebted for kindness Maria Cantu’s mother had shown her.  She was younger than Maria by several years, as if a younger sister.  I will not abandon her.

She is not your blood, her husband scoffed.

"Her madre was kind to me."

This one is not her mother.

In the end, Delgado’s wife prevailed.

My brother has a small hacienda in San Angelo and you are welcome to stay, Señora Delgado had sought out Maria Cantu, finding her crouched in the shadows of a series of crudely erected shacks, tacked one against another.  They were so weak of structure that it was as if it were the shadows that held them together. 

Come with us, Maria Cantu.

Maria reflected quietly in the squalor of the destitute barrio with ruffled hens clucking about and pecking at crumbs, while scrawny curs lazed in the shade.  There was little left for her in México that did not entail hardship and concern.  She had tried returning to the tiny hovel that had been her home, but those in the barrio warned her that shady-looking younger men had come asking for her.

It was the cousin of Ricardo Sanchez’s mistress, someone had said. 

I saw hatred in his heart! someone had added.   

You must go, Maria...

Maria gathered what few belongings the men had not destroyed and fled.  Now she found herself in serious discussion with Elena Delgado.

We will get you safely to San Angelo.  Then you can decide on your own.    Maria Cantu took a deep breath and glanced around at the seemingly endless squalor.  This was how she had lived the wretched early years of her life.  There was nothing in Matamoros for her; nothing worth wanting; nothing worth remembering; nothing worth risking her safety.

A day later, under a cloudless sky and a burning sun, she crossed the Rio Grande on foot with the Delgado family and a single old burro, headed to San Angelo. 

GINGERLY, THEY WADED into the wide, slow, serpentine river, Maria’s billowing yellow dress held above her knees.  It was the last of her dresses that had not been destroyed by the Sanchez cousin.  The breeze caught the fabric, fanning it out and sending a small flock doves skyward from where they huddled along the shore.  The whir of wings startled Señora Delgado.

"¡Ay, caramba!"

The bottom is slippery, Señor Delgado warned.  He had one child on his shoulders and the other by her hand.  Señora Delgado had all she could handle trying to keep herself upright and hang onto their meager belongings.  Dragging along a frayed rope, Maria led the stubborn burro. 

Halfway across, Maria lost her footing, going under beyond a narrow sand bar.  It became deeper where a submerged tree trunk had lodged itself in the riverbed.  The current had gouged a swift channel and the river ran rapidly for a short distance.  She could hear the braying of the burro between going under, then, arms flailing, her head bobbed above the surface.  She had lost her bearings, what with the tumbling and tossing from the current.  Voices shouted from somewhere, but they were unintelligible within the bubbling and gurgling of submersion. 

The river swept her along as she flailed at the blank sky and rushing water, losing her huaraches in the undertow.  The swift water carried her frantically along until, several yards downstream its depth began to recede and then it washed her into the shallows where she was able to crawl to the far riverbank; crawl exhausted and frightened into Texas. 

The Delgados rushed down to pull her to safety; even the small ones tugging at Maria’s outstretched limbs lest she drift off in the strong current.   

The river is deceiving, Juan Delgado said.  It brings much heartache.

Are you alright? Señora Delgado asked.  She knew they would face perils along their journey and there was little they could do to prevent it.  You rest.  Ride the burro until you can walk.

"It’s for los ninos," Maria said, pulling herself to her feet.  She was still trembling from fright and her shin had scraped against the submerged tree trunk.  She had never cared for the water.  She wrung the wetness from her skirt.  It dribbled down into the yellow sand and disappeared. 

Surely you cannot walk, Señora Delgado said in dismay.  You have no shoes.

I will manage.  Come.  Let’s be on our way. 

The travelers followed along the sandy riverbank for several days, past Zapata, turning inward beyond Laredo.  The Texas sun burned unmercifully, etching into Maria Cantu’s flesh the claw marks of the angry woman from Matamoros.  The days were scorchers and the crisp desert nights chilled them to the bone.  Some days they trapped morning dew, using the moisture to wet their parched lips.  Other days proved less fortunate and they chewed the roots of scrub brush and cacti to dampen their throats.  Rain seldom fell on that barren land. 

"Don’t cry, niños, Señora Delgado comforted the wee ones, who had become ill-tempered from their discomfort brought on by hungry bellies.  From the angle of the boiling afternoon sun, she knew they were headed in the right direction and time would bring them to their destination.  But, she did not know how long before that would be. Be patient, little ones."

Another day and night passed.

Underfoot, the terrain became more unforgiving and walking barefoot across the gravelly south Texas plains chewed the soles of Maria Cantu’s feet raw. 

Sit down, Señor Delgado said quietly, bringing the burro to a halt.  "Without zapatos to cover your poor feet, they will not take you far.  We must treat them if you are to continue."

Señora Delgado and the children searched about the scrub brush alongside a narrow animal trail leading down to the river.  A jackrabbit, startled at their snooping, sprang from cover and bounded off in long, graceful leaps. 

Señor Delgado cursed under his breath.  The rabbit would have made for a grand meal roasted over a spit over coals, but alas, the elusive animal disappeared in the thorny underbrush as quickly as it had appeared. 

Shortly, Señora Delgado returned carrying a prickly pear cactus in the fold of her billowing dress. 

Fetch me a stone, she said, and the oldest of the children scurried to find one.    With labored strokes, Señora Delgado beat the flat, spiny cactus pads into a pulpy salve.  Maria lay back, taking her weight off her battered feet, her eyes closed to the bright sun and agonizing pain.  She felt her soles throb with every pulse of her heart.

I’ll see what I can find for us to eat, Señor Delgado said.  He knew that it had not been a good idea to bring along the Cantu woman.  He had known her for a long time and trouble always followed her. 

This will help you, Señora Delgado said as she gently applied the moist balm to Maria’s tender soles.  She tore the hem off her dress and wrapped the soiled fabric around Maria’s wounded feet.  I pray that it is not too tight, nor too loose.  We have a long way to go. 

Maria gingerly stood and took a few careful steps, testing the dressing on her wounded feet. 

I am okay, she said.

We shall go slowly, Señora Delgado assured.

Señor Delgado returned shortly with a desert tortoise.  That night, the ragged little group feasted on tortoise and the remainder of the prickly pear. 

Many days later, somewhere beyond Carrizo Springs riders appeared coming like  apparitions out of the afternoon sun. 

Quickly!  Hide yourselves! Señor Delgado ordered, shooing his children into the brush and sage. 

The riders, a scruffy trio of apparent mixed blood spotted the wandering family and rode in.  A trembling Señor Delgado shielded the mother of his children and awaited their fate.  Her feet in such sorry condition, Maria Cantu did not try to flee. 

What food do you have? the leader demanded.  Wickedness was etched into his leathery face.

We are a poor family.  We have nothing but maize and what we scavenge from the desert, Delgado said, offering up a small cloth sack.  We will gladly share.

One of the half-breeds yanked the sack from the man’s hand, spilling the flour on the ground.

"If you value this familia, give me what you have," the man demanded.  The children, although hidden in the underbrush, could be heard whimpering.

I have little money, Delgado pleaded, holding his wrinkled old hat in his trembling hands. I must get my family to safety...

Your family will go without its father, if you aren’t quick about it.

Señor Delgado relinquished the few pesos he had.  There was no more to take.

Who is this one?

"My esposa.  My wife."

And those hiding in the brush?

The man motioned threateningly in their direction with his rifle. 

"My children, señor.  Don’t hurt them, I beg you."

Why do they hide?

They are afraid.

Afraid of me?

"Yes, señor."

Tell them to come in.  I will not hurt them.

Delgado summoned the children in and they stood huddled as a family there on the stony gravel earth, under the sweltering Texas sun.   

This one?  What is she? Maria Cantu had sat silent, but now the others had taken notice. 

"She is a friend, señor."

"Your familia I will not harm, the man said wickedly.  Then to his companions, but this one is not family."

Do not harm her, Mrs. Delgado pleaded with her frightened children gathered close.  Señor Delgado was on his knees, rifle pressed into his shoulder blades and silently asking for God’s mercy. 

What do you say? the man demanded, his hand at Maria’s throat. 

But Maria Cantu said nothing and stared blankly across the rough terrain.  A hawk soared in the distance, gliding on the high draft.  It was the only movement she saw. 

Señor...  I beg of you, Mrs. Delgado implored.   

The evil one had unsheathed a long knife, bone handled with a wide, curved blade that glistened in the sun.  He seemed to enjoy the fear he had struck in the others.   With the blade, he gestured toward the terrified Señor Delgado who was muttering prayer as his children wept.  Delgado was not a cowardly man, but he knew that the fate of his family was in God’s hands.

The hawk had spotted its prey and with a tilt of its wings, dove silently through the blank sky, streaking toward earth.  Something would soon die.    

A moment later there was a puff of feather or fur and the hawk swept upward.  It was too far away to make out its reward.

One of the horses whinnied realizing death had occurred.

Who do you choose? 

Señora Delgado’s eyes pleaded.

The steel gleamed. 

Perhaps her prior indiscretions had come due on this forlorn day, in this barren wilderness.  The whimpers of the children and the Delgado family’s anguished looks melted into her soul.  As frightened as she was, Maria Cantu had the least to forfeit, for her dignity had already been lost.  Neither Maria Cantu’s absence nor presence would have made a whit of difference to the Delgado’s fate at the hands of these treacherous banditos, but she was here now and perhaps her sacrifice could spare the others.  With the unrelenting sun burning down, he looked deeply into the pleading, liquid eyes of the little ones.  With no more thought, a shamed Maria Cantu knelt on the fiery sand.  It was as if she knelt on coals. 

Take me, she said at last.

It was soon over.  Maria Cantu did not scream nor protest.  She had not tried to fight or run; those wounded feet would not have taken her far, anyway.  It was that or accept the consequences of what might be done to the Delgado family—and she did not want that on her conscience.  She limped obediently into the brush and simply did as she was told.

The trio of bad men rode off and after a few minutes, Maria Cantu composed herself and came back from where they had taken her.  The dirty wrappings were still in place around her feet, and as rugged as the soil was, the cloth protected her feet from the sharp pebbles underfoot.  No more was said of the incident with the bad men.  In fact, Juan Delgado felt strongly that her indiscretions might have saved his family from harm.  Maria took hold of the burro’s rope.

We go now, she said.

EVENTUALLY THE TERRAIN began to change and they followed the rise and fall of the land, some of it barren, some rolling, tree-covered hills.  The days were hot, but now they found areas of shade beneath the groves of live oak and juniper and they followed along beneath the sheltering canopy, Juan Delgado plotting their way by the daylight sun and the nighttime stars.  They found wild squash and nuts, not in abundance, but enough to sustain them.  And now in the groves, occasionally they captured a squirrel or red bird.  And once, in early morning an armadillo made the mistake of waddling past and Delgado crushed it with a rock.  He cut the meat into thin slices and lay them on a rock to dry in the boiling sun.  Toughened now from the arduous trek, the children had taken to the journey, so far from home now it was no more than a vague memory. 

A shower came one evening and they rejoiced in its refreshing purity. 

The terrain was rough, but they had gained strength through their hardships.  They knew they were closer now to their destination than to their past.  Each plodding footstep brought them closer to San Angelo.  For Maria Cantu, a decision would have to be made.

"Hurry along now, ninos," Señora Delgado coaxed. 

The dry creek beds of the south gave way to flowing rivers; clear and quick.  The small party forded the Nueces, the Frio, then for three evenings straight rain blew in about the same time, cooling them from their strenuous days.  What had been sparse before, was now abundant.  

Animals crept invisibly through the nights as scores of cicadas and crickets united in chorus, but by then, the children had become accustomed to the sounds of darkness. 

The steady clopping of the burro’s hooves resonated off the rocky trail.  Whippoorwills called from the treetops and the children sang simple songs their mother taught them to pass the time.  The trials of the rugged desert were far behind.

THE HILLS WERE HIGH near Sonora and the limestone outcrops often made for treacherous passage, but wildlife was abundant and Juan Delgado was able to come upon a whitetail fawn, which gave needed nourishment to their emaciated bodies.

A cattle trail led them north across the savannah, making the going easier.  Farther along still, a generous rancher gave them meat and hard biscuits, and a cloth sack to carry extra. 

Then, San Angelo came into view; vast cattle ranches and meager homesteads, the sprawl of the town. 

It is not far to my brother’s hacienda, Señora Delgado said excitedly.  She’d found new energy now that the end was near. 

You go, Maria Cantu said.  I will find my way.

You have come too far, Juan Delgado said.  He had not approved of her coming with them from Mexico, but she had endured indignities and humiliation to protect his family and he respected her for that. 

It is no place for me, Maria said.  I go where I can be alone from all who know me.  It is my only way.

Come then and rest before you go, Señora Delgado offered.

It is best that I leave now.

But where do you go? 

Maria simply shrugged.

"Stay with us, tita Maria!" the children cried.  To them, she had become family.

For the first time since the arduous trek began, tears came to Maria Cantu’s eyes.

I will miss you, little ones... She kissed them both, tender kisses on their grimy cheeks then she turned away.  I cannot allow my problems to be yours.

Maria Cantu, Juan Delgado said.  I did not think highly of you for what you have done in your life, but I know now not to judge or condemn.  Here.  Take with you.  He placed the burro’s frayed rope in her hand.

No, Señor Delgado, she said, shaking her head.  I cannot.

Please, Señora Delgado said. It is our gratitude for what you did for us. 

How do you know I did not do to save myself? Maria said softly. 

I will not question your motives.  I only know the result, Juan Delgado said, soiled hat in hand.  Be on your way, Maria Cantu.  We pray that you find peace at your journey’s end.  

Part Two

Chapter 2

Apair of scraggly coyotes, emboldened by hunger, had spooked the herd during the early hours of the night.  The wily canines had crept in and nipped at a steer that had carelessly wandered from the herd.  It had taken all the trail boys could do to keep the cattle from bolting.  A few of the boys had gone out looking for them, but the coyotes had slunk into dusk’s purple shadows and lay quietly as the weary drovers rode by.  The riders didn’t see them and the animals were safe for now, but they’d had other encounters with humans and were wary.  After dark had fully set in the hungry coyotes moved nervously about the plain, stopping to howl now and