House of the Rising Sun (Hackberry Holland 4)

“You are not a killer of women and children? You did not fire indifferently into train cars filled with innocent people?”

Hackberry’s face felt cold in the wind, even though he was sweating. “Maybe I did.”

“So why do you feel so offended? Why put on this display?”

“Maybe I want to do business with you.”

“Now we see who our brave Texan really is?”

“Read it any way you want.”

“We are not laying down our weapons, señor.”

“I’ll give you mine anyway. How’s that?” Hackberry loosened the sling from his left arm and placed his palm under the butt of the Krag and flung it end over end through the air. It bounced muzzle-down on a boulder next to the general and pinwheeled farther down the slope.

“¡Que macho!” the general said. “A man of commerce who rises above petty resentments. What business do you wish to conduct?”

“Tell me about the Austrian.”

“Why would he be of concern to you?”

“I think he’s probably an arms dealer. That’s a subject I’m highly educated in.”

“What is it you are offering, señor?”

“The Savage Company is manufacturing a new light machine gun called a Lewis. It’s air-cooled and doesn’t jam and has a ninety-seven-round drum magazine. It fires over five hundred rounds a minute. The British are already using them in the trenches. I can get you a mess of them.”

The general turned to his men. “Did you hear our friend’s proposal, he who has killed our comrades? What do you think we should do with this strange, unwashed gringo?”

“Invite him down here, General,” the junior officer said. “This is a very entertaining man.”

“Yes, please come,” the general said. “We have pulche and roasted corn and pig. The Austrian will be very pleased to meet you.”

Hackberry walked down a narrow gravelly path between two huge boulders that were round and cool and gave shade and made him think of a woman’s breasts. He lifted his hands in the air to show they were empty, the sunlight full on his face, his eyes filming in the glare. “The Austrian beats women?” he said.

“When they ask for it,” the junior officer said. “Sometimes that’s what puta want. That’s why they’re puta, man.”

“I could stand some of that roast pig and corn on the cob.”

“Ah, the gringo is ready to eat,” the general said. “Tell us what else you want. We should bring some girls up here for you? We should give you money that belongs to the people of Mexico?”

“You’re hurting my feelings something awful,” Hackberry said. “You wouldn’t go back on your deal and try to do me in, would you?”

“We made no deal with you, señor. I think you have mierda for brains.”

They were laughing, all their fear gone. The junior officer opened a flask and poured rum into a tin cup and gave it to the general.

“Could I have some of that?” Hackberry said.

“I am always amazed by you. Do you want a blindfold?”

“Sir?”

“It makes it easier. A man can concentrate on his thoughts. He can pray. He can have visions of his family.”

“Those don’t sound like good options.”

“I am going to be your executioner, señor. You and your friends took my son’s life. And now I will take yours. It is only fair. Don’t embarrass yourself by protesting your fate.”