Free The Bells of El Diablo by Frank Leslie Page A

with false reproof. “Where’re your Texas manners, Captain?”
    “You’re going to sit there and tell me you left the war, abandoned your beloved Confederacy, to tell McAllister that all is well back home?”
    “Hell, yeah. For all intents and purposes, the War’s really over, Stenck. Didn’t you hear?”
    Stenck stared at him in mute fury.
    “What about McAllister’s niece—know where she is, do ya?” asked the man with the bullet-grazed ear from the bar, his voice pitched with shrill impatience.
    James jerked a look at him, but before he could respond, Stenck glared at him. “Shut up, Lieutenant!”
    The lieutenant with the shredded ear turned away like a scolded dog. James turned back to Stenck, those cold fingers of apprehension beginning to rake him again, though not for himself this time, but for Vienna McAllister. What could that beautiful, black-haired, gray-eyed Southern belle and apple of his brother’s eye have to do with these Texas vermin?
    “Why, no,” he said slowly, studying Stenck closely. “I wouldn’t know anything about his niece.” Hecleared his throat, thinking fast. “Uh…what niece would that be?”
    Stenck’s face hardened. It looked like a death mask. Only his lips moved when he said tightly, “Take him out and shoot him. Haul him away and throw him in a deep ravine. Leave him to the coyotes.”
    Boots thudded behind James.
    “All right, all right,” he said, knowing he was at the edge of the proverbial cliff. “You called my bluff. I don’t have a message for McAllister. The message is for his niece, Vienna, in the form of a watch.” He glanced at the man with the eye patch behind him, now standing about ten feet away.
    “Ah,” Stenck said, nodding, sucking his upper lip. “I see. An innocent delivery of a watch.”
    “There you have it. Now, if you could tell me where she might be, I’ll be runnin’ along. As you know, I’ve inquired everywhere in Denver City, but no one even seems to know the McAllister name.”
    Stenck studied James closely for a time, tapping a finger on the rim of his shot glass. Finally, he picked the glass up delicately between thumb and index finger, and threw back half of it. He smacked his lips and set the glass down on the table.
    He ran the back of his hand across his mustache, smacked his lips again, and looked once more at James from beneath his brows. “I don’t believe you, Lieutenant. You’re here for something more. You are Forrest’s Rapscallion, after all. You’re here to see McAllister on behalf of the Confederacy. And, since it has become clear I’m going to get nothing of any value out of you…”
    He rolled his eyes up to the men now standing in a semicircle around James.
    “Wait a goddamn minute!” James barked, frustration churning in him. “I just told you the truth. Where’s the McAllister family, and where is Vienna? What the hell’s goin’ on here, Stenck?”
    Stenck arched both brows, pursed his lips. “Let’s just say, for the sake of argument, that I do believe your story, Lieutenant, as far-fetched as it is.” He chuckled. “Forrest’s Rapscallion leaving the war to deliver a watch!” He cackled.
    James felt his nostrils flare at the captain’s words and mocking laughter.
    “If your story is true, Lieutenant, you haven’t left the war as far behind as you thought.”
    Stenck glanced at the men behind James. “For the last time—take him out and shoot him!”
    Two men each grabbed one of James’s arms, hauled him to his feet, and half led and half dragged him toward the door. “Won’t hurt a bit,” said the man with the eye patch. “One bullet through the back of your head, and you’ll be hearin’ ‘Dixie’!”
    He and the others laughed.

Chapter 8
    As Stenck’s men led James through the batwings and onto the front stoop, James gathered himself for an imminent move. He was badly outnumbered, hands tied, so he’d most likely die, but he’d be damned if he wouldn’t do some damage