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  Zococa and the Lady

  Flamboyant Mexican bandit Zococa and his mute sidekick Tahoka are hired by Don Pedro Sanchez, the ruler of the mysterious territory of El Sanchez, to escort a valuable and precious cargo – his daughter – safely back to him.

  But what seems a simple and profitable task soon turns out to be a perilous journey through Apache land. What makes the journey even more dangerous is the fact that Don Pedro’s ruthless sibling is intent on killing her before she reaches the safety of El Sanchez.

  It will take every scrap of the bandit’s cunning and courage to achieve their goal.

  By the same author

  The Way Station

  The Mexican Bandit

  Apache Thunder

  The Pinto Rider

  Apache Fury

  A Man Called Latigo

  The Star Riders

  Return of the Bandit

  Ghost Town

  Night Train to Laredo

  The Fury of Zococa

  Zococa and the Lady

  Roy Patterson

  ROBERT HALE

  © Roy Patterson 2019

  First published in Great Britain 2019

  ISBN 978-0-7198-3026-6

  The Crowood Press

  The Stable Block

  Crowood Lane

  Ramsbury

  Marlborough

  Wiltshire SN8 2HR

  www.bhwesterns.com

  Robert Hale is an imprint of The Crowood Press

  The right of Roy Patterson to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by him

  in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988

  All rights reserved. This e-book is copyright material and must not be copied, reproduced, transferred, distributed, leased, licensed or publicly performed or used in any way except as specifically permitted in writing by the publishers, as allowed under the terms and conditions under which it was purchased or as strictly permitted by applicable copyright law. Any unauthorised distribution or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author’s and publisher’s rights, and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly.

  To the Memory of my Friend, Clint Walker

  PROLOGUE

  Rio Concho was a small but noisy settlement of white-washed adobe buildings set in a flurry of rambling red roses. Roses that climbed and clung to every structure within the tiny Mexican village.

  As the day finally vanished and was replaced by the hours of darkness, the two riders emerged from the dusty trail which surrounded the remote Rio Concho.

  The legendary bandit Zococa and his faithful companion Tahoka, the giant mute Apache warrior, cantered into the lantern-lit streets. In most places the coming of darkness meant that the day had ended, but not for those south of the border. To most of the colourful inhabitants of Mexico, it meant a time to relish being alive. Every evening was a fiesta to be devoured and celebrated.

  The merciless burning of the sun did not reign supreme after sundown in Rio Concho. The warmth of the day remained, but no longer challenged the people. Men, women and children suddenly appeared from their homes and started to do what was impossible during the hours of daylight. They started to celebrate the hours of brightly-coloured lanterns with unbridled joy as was their nightly habit.

  Suddenly music washed out on to the streets. Scores of tables filled the streets and people bought and sold whatever they wanted. Rio Concho became a busy market before the approaching horsemen as they steered their mounts deeper into the heart of the village.

  ‘This is my type of town, Tahoka,’ Zococa smiled like a cat who had suddenly discovered a river of cream. ‘We shall eat and drink and maybe find a little love in the arms of willing señoritas.’

  The stern-faced Apache rolled his eyes as he steered his gelded grey. All the giant warrior had on his mind was food and consuming it.

  Zococa and Tahoka slowed their horses, and heard the sound of bugles and guitars washing out from the adobe structures all around them.

  Both bandits eased back on their long leathers and stopped their animals outside a cantina. The smell of freshly cooked chilli spilled out with the amber lanternlight and washed over the two horsemen.

  Tahoka urgently spoke with his hands to his partner.

  ‘Sí, amigo,’ Zococa smiled. ‘We can eat.’

  Without a second thought, Zococa dismounted and tied his reins to a hitching pole as his companion sat in his saddle and gazed all around them anxiously.

  The famed bandit was surprised by the Indian’s hesitation.

  ‘What is wrong, little one?’ Zococa asked as he rested a hand on the back of his pinto stallion. ‘What do you hear over the sound of the music?’

  Tahoka spoke with his hands frantically.

  He told his companion that there were riders following them along the same dusty trail that they had used to reach the remote Rio Concho.

  Zococa frowned and pulled the cigar from his lips. He tossed the last two inches of well-chewed cigar at the ground and then looked to where his massive friend was pointing.

  ‘Are you sure, my little elephant?’ he asked.

  Tahoka nodded firmly.

  Zococa had also sensed that they were being followed a few hours before but dismissed it as being his over-active imagination. Now he was convinced that he had been correct all the time. Being wanted dead or alive on both sides of the border had a way of dampening even Zococa’s enthusiasm. Yet he refused to allow it to spoil his desire to enjoy himself.

  ‘Come on, Tahoka,’ he said encouragingly. ‘I will buy you much food to fill that belly of yours. We will just keep our eyes wide open for any bounty hunters who might decide to kill us.’

  Tahoka dropped from his mount and secured his long leathers to the hitching pole. He moved around the tails of the horses and then followed the bandit through the beaded curtain into the heart of the cantina. Within seconds of entering the aromatic cantina, Tahoka had forgotten his concerns and concentrated on the hot range where a heavily-bosomed female was singing as she cooked.

  They had been eating for nearly an hour when their attention was drawn to the sound of horses outside the cantina. Tahoka kept eating his chilli as Zococa rose to his feet and moved to the opposite side of the cantina and rested the palm of his right hand on the brightly painted adobe wall.

  The young bandit could hear the sound of jangling spurs and hoofbeats over the music. His eyes narrowed as he stared out into the street illuminated by lanterns. For a moment Zococa saw nothing as the noise grew louder. Then he caught sight of the two horsemen as they rode past the window. Every fibre of his being expected the riders to stop but they did not.

  ‘That is strange,’ Zococa muttered under his breath as he watched the riders circle the cantina. His fingers curled around his holstered pistol as he listened to the sound of the horsemen travelling around the adobe structure.

  The cantina was only half full of patrons scattered around its various tables. Zococa strode away from where his partner was seated eating and sat down opposite the beaded curtain. He drew his silver-plated pistol from its hand-tooled holster while watching the swaying beads. It took only a few seconds for the bandit to ensure that his trusty weapon was fully loaded.

  Then he heard his pinto stallion snorting out in the street and stared unblinkingly at the entrance. Zococa knew that his precious horse was like a guard dog and always got skittish whenever danger loomed its ugly head.

  Two tell-tale shadows passed the front of the cantina. The horses were reined in and stopped out of view of anyone within the large eatery. Zococa nursed the six-shooter as he heard the spurs approaching the beaded curtains.

  Suddenly a man entered the cantina. He held a pair of six-shooters at hip level as his eyes darted around the faces of the various people sat within the large room.

  This was nothing new for Zococa. He knew that the hefty price on his wanted poster was a temptation that few hardened bounty hunters could resist.

  The bandit leaned back on his chair and rested his pistol on his thigh firmly as he watched the ominous figure enter the cantina. The beads rocked back and forth as the man’s eyes searched for his chosen prey.

  Then he spotted Zococa.

  ‘You look for me, señor?’ the smiling bandit asked.

  The bounty hunter lowered his head and glared at the seated figure before him. A hideous grin crawled across his scarred features as he snorted like a raging bull when faced with the sight of a matador.

  ‘Zococa?’ he rasped in a heavy Mexican accent.

  The bandit nodded and watched as the guns were swung around and trained upon him. In Zococa’s mind, this was a merciless bounty hunter and he had barely a heartbeat left to react.

  As the man hauled back on his hammers, Zococa raised his pistol and fanned its gun hammer faster than he had ever done before. Rods of golden death spewed from the pistol’s barrel and crossed the vacant space between them, leaving choking clouds of gunsmoke in their wake.

  Within seconds Zococa had emptied all of his bullets into the bounty hunter. He watched as the man buckled under the impact of his well-placed bullets.

  Both the bounty hunters guns blasted into the sod floor in posthumous response to the far faster bandit’s volley.

  Before the man toppled forward, his fingers released their grip on the guns and dropped them. The grin was now replaced by a tortured agony that had carved a route across his stunned face when he realized that he was dying. In the fashion of a tall tree after its trunk had ju
st been severed from its roots, he fell.

  The bounty hunter landed on his face.

  For a moment there was a deathly silence within the cantina, but then as though nothing had happened, the interior filled again with the sounds of its patrons resuming their meals.

  Zococa stood, sighed and then started to extract the spent casings from the smoking chambers of his pistol as he inspected the remains of the man who had just lost his duel with the infamous bandit.

  As he slid fresh bullets into the hot chambers, the sound of a female scream from beyond the cooking range behind him caused the bandit to spin on his heels just in time to see the raised scattergun gripped in the hands of a man in a torn sombrero.

  ‘Now it is your time to die, Zococa,’ the second bounty hunter boomed out across the cantina.

  Both barrels of the lethal weapon suddenly unleashed their fiery venom. Zococa threw himself across the room and hit the wall as a swarm of buckshot peppered the wall.

  A large chunk of white-washed wall took the full impact of the shotgun’s fury and fell on top of the bandit as he frantically tried to reload his pistol.

  Then Zococa heard the sound of jangling spurs. He looked up as the man ejected spent cartridges from his scattergun and replaced them with fresh tubes of buckshot. The room was still echoing to the sound of the massive gun as the bounty hunter jerked his twin-barrelled weapon locking it in readiness.

  Zococa’s fingers were working feverishly as they attempted to drag bullets from his gunbelt and insert them into his still smoking barrels. Yet the man had crossed the room quickly and was almost above his prostrate target. It seemed that the faster he tried to load his pistol, the more bullets he dropped.

  The bounty hunter stopped and raised the scattergun to his shoulder. His finger curled around the trigger of his weapon.

  ‘Goodbye, Zococa,’ he spat.

  Zococa shook his head. He had failed to reload his pistol and knew that it was pointless continuing to try. Now all he could do was await his fate.

  As the young bandit stared up into the face of the man who loomed over him he suddenly heard a thud. The expression on the bounty hunter’s face suddenly altered.

  It suddenly displayed the agony that tore through his body like a bolt of lightning. His hands shook and then dropped the double-barrelled shotgun. It landed at his boots as the massive Apache loomed up from behind the man and grabbed the bounty hunter’s twisted face in his large hands.

  The sound of the man’s neck snapping filled the cantina.

  Tahoka released his grip and the lifeless man hit the floor heavily. The Apache warrior bent over, pulled his hatchet from the back of the lifeless man and then slid it back into his belt.

  Zococa scrambled back to his feet, stepped over the corpse and finally finished loading his pistol. He watched as Tahoka casually sat back down and resumed eating. He was about to speak when another man got up from his table and cautiously walked toward the bandits.

  ‘Are you Zococa?’ he nervously asked.

  Both Zococa and his Indian comrade looked at the man who had remained seated since their arrival toying with his food. Tahoka spoke to his young friend, but Zococa shook his head.

  ‘No, my little one,’ he argued. ‘I do not think this man is another bounty hunter. This man looks like a messenger to me by his demeanour.’

  Tahoka dipped a chunk of bread in his chilli and resumed devouring his meal as Zococa faced the nervous man.

  Zococa eyed the stranger. ‘Sí, amigo. I am the great Zococa and this is my loyal friend Tahoka.’

  The man cautiously closed the distance between them and then cleared his throat as his eyes darted between the bodies on the ground near the swaying curtain.

  ‘My master has a job for you,’ the man said nervously.

  ‘Who is your master, my trembling one?’ the flamboyant bandit enquired as he slid his pistol back into its holster.

  ‘Have you ever heard of the land known as El Sanchez?’ the man asked.

  Zococa tilted his head. ‘Sí, amigo. It is said to be the most dangerous land in all of Mexico.’

  ‘Don Pedro rules El Sanchez and he has sent me to find you and give you this.’ The man handed a sealed letter to the bandit. ‘This is a letter which will give you safe passage across El Sanchez. I can tell you that he will pay you well for your services.’

  Zococa swiftly broke the seal and extracted the letter from its envelope. He studied it and then looked at the nervous messenger.

  ‘It does not say why he wants to see me, amigo,’ he noted.

  ‘That you will only discover when you go to El Sanchez, Zococa.’ The man bowed and quickly made his exit. As the beaded curtain swayed, the bandit rubbed his chin thoughtfully. ‘All I can tell you is that Don Pedro will pay you handsomely if you choose to accept his proposal.’

  Zococa glanced at Tahoka who had finally finished his meal and was pushing his plate away from him. The Apache frowned as he downed a tumbler of wine.

  His flamboyant companion sat down beside the muscular Tahoka and patted the warrior on his broad back. Their eyes met and the young bandit pulled his silver cigar case from his pocket before opening it. The thoughtful Zococa slid a slim cigar from the case and placed it between his teeth.

  Words of warning flashed from the Apache’s huge hands and were watched through the trail of smoke that drifted away from the freshly-lit cigar gripped between Zococa’s teeth.

  Zococa nodded in agreement with his comrade’s concern but was curious that his notoriety had reached the secluded El Sanchez and that he, above all other equally talented men, had been personally chosen to undertake a mission for the mysterious ruler of the remote land.

  ‘You are right to be wary, my little elephant,’ Zococa smiled and withdrew the cigar from his lips. ‘But Don Pedro needs our help. There is something he needs us to do for him that nobody else can do. We must ride to find out why he has summoned the great Zococa.’

  Tahoka rolled his eyes. The giant Apache knew that it was pointless trying to reason with his friend when his ego had been flattered. His massive hand grabbed the wine bottle and he raised it to his lips and finished its contents.

  Zococa raised his hand and snapped his fingers to a young waitress. As she walked closer, the bandit noticed that she was frightened by the sight of the two dead bounty hunters near the swaying beaded curtain.

  ‘Another bottle of wine, my pretty one,’ Zococa grinned. ‘And a room for the night, if you have one. A room with two cots.’

  She gave a silent nod and rushed toward the cooking area.

  ‘We shall head for El Sanchez at dawn, amigo,’ Zococa said as his eyes continued to study the beautiful female. ‘First we will get a good night’s rest. I have a feeling that we shall need it.’

  Zococa did not realize it, but he had never spoken a truer set of words in his entire life. They would require every scrap of luck that the gods, in their wisdom, were willing to lavish upon the intrepid duo. Upon rising from a restful night’s sleep in the cantina, both men were faced with darkening skies and a growing storm. As they rode away from the fragrant Rio Concho, the wind grew even more savage and merciless. The further they rode toward the famed El Sanchez, the more brutal the gusting winds became. To the superstitious Tahoka, it was a warning of even worse to come if they continued travelling on their current path.

  To Zococa it was nothing more than a storm which was whipping sand up into a blinding fury. By mid-morning though, the sun was completely blotted out from those who travelled beneath its fiery orb. An eerie twilight made it appear closer to sundown than the beginning of a new day.

  Unlike the anxious Apache, Zococa did not believe in mystical creatures for he had always found that mere men were far more dangerous than anything the paranormal could ever muster. The sandstorm was unnerving, but that was all it was to the confident bandit.

  A storm.

  Nature did not require the supernatural to aid it. He had seen devastating floods wipe out entire villages. Earthquakes destroy everything in their path in a mere heartbeat. Zococa knew the power that nature could unleash upon the unwary.