The Last Ride of the Guardia Rural

By John J. Law

"So what happened after that? What happened to Wilcox after that? How did he even manage to grow up to be such an infamous outlaw?" Henry said.
Pancho shrugged his shoulders. "How a young boy managed to grow up to reach adulthood on his own from there? Well, that's anyone's guess. After that, his younger years are shrouded in mystery, much like the early years of our Lord and Savior. And I can attest that Willie Wilcox was anything but divine and holy. Either way, Wilcox earned his sobriquet 'Wild Child'."
 

• Language: English
• Publisher: J.C. Hulsey Books
• Release date: Dec 18, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215874202

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

Tall Tales Revisited

1910, Somewhere in Arizona.

The old saloon stood in the middle of nowhere. After all these years, it was still where Pancho Salazar remembered it would be. It stood close to the border of Mexico and Arizona, almost like a lighthouse in the middle of a vast and dark ocean. Salazar had to rub his eyes to make sure he wasn't seeing a mirage in all this heat. After all this time, he couldn't believe that the old saloon was still standing.

It's still there Conchita. After all these years, and everything that's happened, it's still there. Pancho said.

Conchita, his horse, shuddered at her master's voice. Rider and master shared a bond that was forged through years of struggle and countless gunfights. Conchita couldn't understand the words, but she was also surprised and relieved to see the old saloon. After all, Pancho did have a habit of riding her hard. The old establishment would surely provide a welcome respite for both animal and rider, and the animal sensed as much.

Salazar rode the horse to the saloon's watering hole and tied him to the nearby post. Conchita gulped at the murky water. Everything was just as it was several years ago, when he and his brother Manolito frequented the saloon. Salazar was more than a little astonished at all of this. The march of time was relentless, and with the railroad, it seemed as if progress was moving faster than the trains on the tracks. Everywhere, it seemed as if the reminders of the old days were vanishing and giving in to a new and more progressive era. But it was not that way here. It was almost as if time stood still in this

small piece of land where the saloon was. Perhaps that was why Salazar was drawn to this place, like a moth to the flame. He had been riding for quite some time now, and the saloon was the most logical place to stay and take a break.

Pancho Salazar cut a colorful figure as he entered the old saloon. His large hat was long as it was wide, and if Pancho bowed his head, there was no way you could see his features. His uniform was coated with silver, and he wore a bright red tie, that seemed to announce his presence everywhere he went. Pancho Salazar was wearing the colorful garb of the Guardia Rural, the police force that he and his brother Manolito had served their entire lives under.

When he swung the revolving doors of the saloon and entered the establishment, all eyes fell upon Pancho. He felt their eyes upon him, and heard their murmurs and whispers. They were intimidated, and the uniform still commanded much respect. Everyone's attention was drawn to him. Pancho was used to this, by now. The colorful garb of the Guardia Rural did have that effect on people, even now, when it was starting to lose most