Secret Honor (Honor Bound 3) - Page 103

And God had sent Enrico a message. The all-knowing God knew that Enrico was shamed that he had failed to save the life of el Coronel, and that with Mariana Maria Dolores taken to heaven, too, he was all alone.

God had permitted him to take the vengeance that was His alone. He brought the German Nazi bastards who had ordered the murder of el Coronel and Mariana Maria Dolores to Samborombón Bay and put them in the glass sight on el Coronel’s Mauser (which they had bought together in Berlin), so that he could kill them.

The message was I know that you are unhappy and lonely, my son, and this is both to show you I understand and that you are part of my plan. Killing the German Nazi bastards is your reward on earth, and if you do your duty, when the time comes, there will be greater rewards in heaven.

And Enrico understood what his duty was. He was to protect Señor Clete and the blond woman and the baby in her belly, and thus Estancia San Pedro y San Pablo and the good life it gave all the simple people who depended on it.

And he knew his reward when God finally took him to heaven. He would be with Mariana Maria Dolores and el Coronel again and could tell them that the Estancia San Pedro y San Pablo would go on as always.

That had been God’s plan all along. He wondered why it had taken him so long to understand.

Enrico was brought back from his thoughts when he detected unusual movement on the pampas. “Señor Cletus,” he said softly, and when he had Clete’s attention, raised his arm and hand, the index finger extended, and pointed.

One of the Ford Model A pickups was bouncing across the pampas, headed for them.

“Who is that? Rodolfo?”

“I think so, Señor Cletus.”

Sargento Rudolpho Gomez, Argentine Cavalry, Retired, pulled up to them three minutes later, got out of the Ford, and approached Clete, taking off his hat as a gesture of respect (all the while carefully staying away from Julius Caesar).

“Patrón, el Jefe asked me to find you,” he said.

El Jefe was Chief Radioman Oscar J. Schultz, USN.

Most of the gauchos thought Schultz was very strange, even ludicrous—a man who wore the clothing of a gaucho but never mounted a horse and was visibly afraid of both horses and cattle. Enrico and Rudolpho, however, liked him and would not tolerate disrespect toward him—probably, Clete thought, because they recognized in him a fellow career serviceman.

Once he’d seen Rudolpho pointing a Cavalry sergeant’s finger in the face of a gaucho and telling him the next time he laughed at el Jefe he would cut his balls off and feed them to the pigs.

“Did he say what he wanted?” Clete asked.

“No, Patrón. He is at the place.”

“Señor Clete, we can take the Ford,” Enrico said. “And Rudolpho can take the horses back.”

“How far are we from the station? On horseback?”

“Twenty minutes, Señor Clete. And about as long by Ford,” Enrico said, then added, “It has been some time since Julius Caesar has had a hard run. Then it would be a little less.”

“Where is it from here?” Clete asked. Enrico pointed.

“Let’s go for a run, Julius,” Clete said, and touched the animal with his heels.

Enrico waited until Clete was out of earshot. “He is very much like el Coronel, may he rest in peace, is he not?”

“Sí,” Rudolpho said thoughtfully.

“God has given us the duty of protecting him.”

“Sí,” Rudolpho repeated.

Enrico made a thumbs-up gesture to Rudolpho and then put his heels to the sorrel and raced after el Patrón.

Julius Caesar was breathing heavily and was spotted white with sweat when Clete rode up to the radio station.

“Beautiful animal, Sir,” Lieutenant Madison R. Sawyer III said.

“Yes, he is. What’s up, Sawyer? Is the chief here?”

Tags: W.E.B. Griffin Honor Bound Thriller
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