Thread: Ride of the Comancheros [ShadowOfDesire & DeRe]

The small town of Candelaria sat on the north bank of the Rio Grande near the border between Texas and Mexico. Nestled in a meager river basin, the town was surrounded by towering plateaus and twisting canyons that comprised the striking landscape of the Chihuahuan Desert. It was a remote place, though neatly situated to serve as a point of respite for those traveling deeper into either territory. The nearest railroad was several days ride to the north. The closest city worthy of the title was El Paso, over two hundred miles to the northeast. Despite the isolation, Candelaria boasted all of the major amenities one might need for rest. The central street held several shops, including the mercantile, a barber, trading post, a modest hotel, two saloons complete with whores, a small cafe, the livery stable, and a blacksmith. The jail was located one street over and had only two cells that primarily served as drunk tanks for carousing men that posed a danger to themselves or others. The sheriff was an older Mexican man with more interest in women than gunslinging, but his rifle and young deputy kept most in line. Other than the occasional brawl, there was little call for the law in the sleepy town. It held nothing of great value save the horses that were culled from the wild herds in Mexico. Around four times a year, a few of the major outfits drove large herds of mustangs into town to meet their buyers. The town's population would swell to four times the normal size as folk flooded in from all corners to buy, sell, and trade. Men of the town would be temporarily deputized to handle the influx of hard drinkers and hired guns that spent time in the saloons and brothels. However, business usually concluded in only a few days time, the visitors would drift away, and life would return to the mundane. During the days of the horse trading, Candelaria was the perfect place to visit and remain unnoticed. No one gave strangers a second look then, for everyone assumed that he or she was in town to buy or sell horses. The townsfolk profited from the events, so visitors were welcome so long as they didn't cause too much trouble. Morgan arrived the day before the horses were due to stake out a particular target and discovered that others of like mind were already gathered there. Someone had brought a gang of hardened killers to Candelaria. They weren't all that easy to spot at first, but the longer one observed, the more the pattern began to emerge. They frequented the saloons, but didn't drink too much. They played cards, but not too often. They took their pleasures with the saloon girls, but never at the same time. They gambled, but never won more than they lost. They socialized with one another, but never more than a few at a time and always within the same groupings. Each group would casually ignore the others -- a bit too casually. They were being careful not to be too noticeable or cause any trouble. That uncharacteristic caution was what drew attention to them. Morgan had seen their type before and knew they were dangerous. Plans had to be modified and tactics changed. Morgan had intended to wait for one of the outfits to sell their horses and then ambush them on their way back into Mexico. Very likely, the invading gang aimed to do the same. Deciding to not be ambushed while plotting an ambush, Morgan quickly left town. Not all of the buyers had arrived. In fact, the largest of them, the one responsible for buying the bulk of the horses, was still on the trail. Morgan mounted up and started into Texas, hoping to catch them about half a day's ride from Candelaria. They traveled with a fair number of men and were well armed, so ambush wasn't an option, but... they might be convinced that an ambush threatened. The sun was high in the sky when the dust cloud from their horses gave away their position. Morgan spurred onward, horse riding hard out of the canyon. Predictably, a shout went up from the group as they caught sight of the approaching rider. You! Boy! What's the hurry? Why you running scared? Ambush, sir! Morgan shouted breathlessly, voice cracking with panic. I heard 'em talkin' 'bout setting up in the canyon to ambush you and steal all the money you was bringin'! They's gotta be least two dozen of 'em all hidin' in wait. If you take the western path, you could sneak up behind 'em and catch 'em unawares, but I'd be careful if I was you. They looked plenty mean! It was almost too easy. Some men just couldn't let a challenge pass them by. Come on, men! Let's rid this canyon of bandits! Kid, stay with the wagon. You'll be safe enough. The men on horses broke away, leaving the wagon on the trail. One man stayed in the driver's seat, rifle resting on his lap, guarding the lockbox behind him. Another sat on his horse nearby, keeping watch. After the others had disappeared from view, Morgan leaned on the saddle's pommel and casually pulled a gun. I'll take that money now. The driver snorted. You, boy? All alone? Looks to me we've got you outnumbered two to one. I doubt you'd even have the guts to pull the trigger. The horseman took note and reached for his weapon. The sound of a hammer being cocked made him freeze. Morgan smiled, eyes flitting between the men. Care to make a wager? I'm fast. Too fast for either of you, I bet. Here. I'll make it fair. The hammer released and the gun slid back into the holster. One hand hovered over the polished wooden grip in wait. The man on horseback hesitated only a heartbeat before jerking at his pistol. It barely cleared his belt before Morgan's shot rang out. He fell, crimson spreading across his shirt from the hole in the chest. The teamster's hands rose off his rifle in surrender as he glared. You ain't gonna get far, boy. Farther than you, old man. The gun cracked again, smoke rising from the barrel, and the man slumped in his seat, light fading from his eyes. The shot startled the spooked wagon horses and they careened toward the canyon. Morgan snatched the strongbox from the cart as it passed and took off in the opposite direction, heading for the maze of hills and valleys between there and El Paso. It would have been the perfect heist... if not for the Comancheros. Last edited Jul 15, 2018