Free Chasing Pancho Villa by R. L. Tecklenburg Page A

mind was racing ahead.
    â€œCaptain James keep his pistola in his tent. When he did not wear it, he lock it up in his desk. Aquí.” Juan tried to open a lower desk drawer. It was locked. “‘Juan, too damn many accidents’ he say to me.”
    â€œHow many people knew Bart did this?”
    â€œNo se, señor. I know only because he show me.”
    â€œSo others may have known as well?”
    â€œSí, señor. Es posible.”
    â€œWho else would have a key to the drawer?”
    â€œNo one. But the lock, it is simple. See?” Pushing a small strand of wire he produced from his pocket into the keyhole and shaking the front of the drawer lightly with his other hand, the drawer easily slid open. Juan smiled. “Many old desk around. I must open them sometimes.”
    â€œWhere are all the weapons kept? Do the rest of the troops keep their own weapons?” Harrison asked.
    â€œNo, señor. They are all kept in the quartermaster’s tent. There is a guard on them. Only officers keep their pistolas. Sometime they wear, or sometimes they lock up, like Capitan James.”
    â€œIs there a record or log of when Captain James checked his out of the quartermaster’s tent?”
    â€œSí, the record is clear. He write down the date he took it. Every soldier must do it this way. The colonel ordered. We check the record carefully.”
    â€œWhat did it say, sergeant?”
    â€œYour brother took his weapon from the tent three days before he died. The record does not say he bring it back.”
    â€œSergeant, why do you think he checked his weapon out then?”
    â€œI do not know, Señor James.”
    â€œDo the officers need a reason to take their weapons out of the armory?”
    â€œNo, señor. Out here along the border, is very dangerous. If they need them, they take them. Sometimes they keep them.”
    â€œI see. Who keeps track of all the company’s weapons?”
    â€œI do, señor.”
    â€œSo an officer could take his weapon wherever he wanted? Could he sell it and no one would know?”
    Juan eyed the civilian. “No, es no posible. I watch closely all weapons and records. But….” Parilla shrugged. “The records only say your brother didn’t sign his pistola in again. There was no sign. That I know.”
    â€œThen he had it here with him, either locked in the desk or holstered?”
    â€œSí, I think so.”
    â€œWas he wearing a pistol belt when he was found?”
    The sergeant thought a moment before answering. “No, no pistol belt. It was on his foot locker. Here.” Parilla walked over to the locker and pointed.
    Harrison considered, going over to stand beside Parilla. “Yet there’s one more possibility, isn’t there?” he said, looking back at the desk.
    â€œSeñor?”
    â€œSomeone could have opened that desk, just as you did, and stolen it without my brother’s knowledge. Isn’t that true, Sergeant Parilla?”
    â€œThe captain did not report a stolen pistola. He would have reported it, Señor James.”
    Harrison thought. “Do you believe Captain James took his own life?”
    â€œIt was a great surprise to me. He was not a man of fear.” Juan shuffled his feet uncomfortably. “I must return to my duties now.” Without speaking further, he grabbed the pencil from the desk and hurriedly scratched out an address on a slip of paper he tore from a notebook in his pocket. “Señor James, maybe we talk more.” Handing it to Harrison, he abruptly turned to leave the tent. “Come. I will take you back to the gate.”
    â€œWait!” Harrison called after him. “This Lieutenant Floyd. I would like to speak with him.” He stuck the slip of paper into his coat pocket.
    â€œSí, señor. Follow me. The major orders that I escort you while you stay in camp. I think, Señor James, that he wants to watch you,