Free The Vanquished by Brian Garfield

spare any troops for Gandara. Besides, it was the federal government itself that had denied reappointment to Gandara. At the same time, the government had relieved Gandara’s friend Yañez from duty as commanding federal officer in Sonora. Gandara and Yañez were finished; Giron stood satisfied of that. The government had sent Pedro Espejo to replace Yañez as commandante-general, and Espejo—who should arrive shortly—was a friend of Pesquiera’s. Further, the government was dispatching one José de Aguilar, who had tried once before and failed to wrest the governorship from Gandara. Now, throughout the territory, Gandara’s men were raising the cry that Aguilar and Pes-quiera were going to sell the state out to Norteamericano filibusters. It was, Giron thought restlessly, very complicated. During Aguilar’s previous attempt to seize the governorship, Gandara’s deputy had arrested and imprisoned Aguilar. That was what had prompted Pesquiera to take up arms against the governor. During the past summer, on July 17, Pesquiera had besieged the capital here at Ures. On the eighth of August the city had fallen; Pesquiera had released his friend Aguilar from jail, and on the same day Giron had had the satisfaction of routing Gandara’s own troops. Altar, Hermosillo, Guaymas—all the cities had slowly yielded to Pesquiera, and today Gandara, wherever he was hiding, was overthrown.
    But the ex-governor’s brother Jesús still fought. Today it was Giron’s mission to guard his general while the troops went into the city and rooted out the guerrillas. By the end of the day, it should be over. Jesús Gandara had but few remaining men.
    â€œThe attack will begin soon,” Pesquiera said. He picked up a knotty twig from the ground and used it to comb his beard. “Giron.”
    â€œ Sí, general? ”
    â€œHow many men did you say you have in reserve?”
    â€œTwo companies.”
    â€œGood. Very good. I am in hopes we will have no need of them.”
    â€œI, too.”
    â€œWe will make use of them if we must,” Hilario Gabilondo said, in choppy tones. “Nothing must prevent us from routing the last of them. They are pigs—they must be crushed. We will take the city at any cost.”
    City. Giron looked down upon the adobe-bounded square, the few narrow streets, the trees of the dusty town. Gabilondo’s glory is all in his head , he thought. Pesquiera said, “You are too bloodthirsty, Hilario. In due time the last of them will retire. You can see the governor’s palace from here, amigos. Tonight we will raise our cups and drink to one another in that palace.”
    â€œ Sí ,” Gabilondo said. “Tonight.” He eased his muscular squat frame around to consider the sky. “We have made a very successful campaign. Who would have foretold how short it has been?”
    â€œWe have been fortunate,” Pesquiera said. “I only wish that Manuel Gandara himself were down there in Ures.”
    Giron thought of him—Don Manuel Gandara. About fifty, he was, of pure Castilian blood, a tall and muscular man. Ruthless, powerful. He owned not only the Topahui grant but eight or nine large ranchos , with mines on them. Truly, he was a despot—now to be deposed.
    â€œIt is my feeling,” Gabilondo said stiffly, “that Gandara is back in the mountains with his Yaqui friends. Friends—bah. I pray soon he will find out just what kind of friends he has bought for himself. The Yaquis will give him little enough support, once they find his power has been crushed. Mi general , I would like your leave to lead a party into the Sierra Madres. I will cut them to pieces and bring Gandara’s head to you.”
    Pesquiera waved a hand flutteringly, lazily. “You are too impatient, Hilario. Your thirst for death is too anxious. There is time for everything—and if you hope to outwit the Yaquis in their own