Page 29 of Vaquero
The terraced, stone rows lining the cavern climbed down to a rock and boulder-strewn floor, while other rows climbed up the walls to the glistening, stalactite-bedazzled ceiling.
Hundreds. He was looking at hundreds of people who deserved better. “¡Maldita sea cada Zapata que haya vivido!” he swore.God damn every Zapata who’d ever lived!
All nearest the cavern entrance saw him then. A filthy, young boy burst out of the crowd, screaming, “Meu soldado! Meu amiga!”My soldier! My friend!
Julio looked twice. “Pepe? What are you doing here?”
Pepe hit Julio like a frightened child. Circling his arms around Julio’s waist, he buried his face in Julio’s shirt. “I knew you would come,” he sobbed, his poor body shaking. “I knew it. Miss Duncan said you were the most beautiful creature on earth. She is right. You came.Obrigado, meu amiga. Obrigado.”Thank you, my friend, Thank you.
The agony pouring out of this child humbled Julio. Almost made him overlook Pepe saying that Meg hadthought Julio the most beautiful creature on earth. But thinking on that choice compliment had to wait. He dropped to one knee to get a better grip on this shivering, ice-cold boy. My God, Pepe’s eyes were black and swollen. His bottom lip was split, and there were definite finger-sized bruises on his neck. Dried blood was caked through his scalp.
“Who hurt you?” Julio demanded.
“The… the guards.SenhorZapata. They... they laughed. Said I was a g-g-good sport. A good game.”
I will kill them all!Julio promised himself. Yet he had to know, “Why are you here?”
The brave, battered boy leaned back on his heels, scrubbing a hand over his teary eyes. “Because I am a man,SenhorJuarez” —he whined like the frightened child he was— “like Papa. I had to do something. I could not let thatporcohurt Miss Duncan. Or Dom. Or even you.”
Julio cupped this brave warrior’s jaw. “Yet now you are trapped in his mine with all these other slaves.”
Pepe nodded, tears streaking down his dust-encrusted face. “I… I…” His throat worked as he swallowed hard. “I have sinned. I am sorry, but…”
“No, Pepe, you are not a sinner, and I am not a priest.” Poor kid needed something to believe in, so Julio whispered in Portuguese,“Mas você tem a alma de um guerreiro, e os guerreiros não ficam à toa enquanto o mal existe. E agora, você é meu cúmplice.”
But you have the soul of a warrior, and warriors do not stand idly by while evil exists. And now, you are my inside man.
“I… I am?” Pepe stuttered, wiping the tears off his bruised cheeks.
A crowd of workers had gathered around them by then. “Ha. I am warrior, too, but see where... got me,” an older man grumbled in broken English.
Pepe whirled on the poor, dirty fellow. “But my friend is a real warrior!” he yelled in perfect English, slapping his skinny chest and on fire with unearned devotion for a man who’d rung out. “He is a warrior of God! Do you hear me? Of God! And he has already saved hundreds! Maybe thousands! He is the miracle you all prayed for! Be thankful! Respect him or God will strike you down!”
Such vehemence. Such hero worship. Julio swallowed hard at the adoration pouring out of this boy’s heart. “People,” he said quietly. “Talk to me. Is there another way out of this tunnel?”
All heads shook, but the older man answered, “Only way out is the way you got in. What are you,estúpido? Didn’t you see the armed guards out there?”
Julio didn’t need to translate that. The man’s disgust permeated every other grimy face here. They’d all lost hope. All except Pepe. His bright eyes hadn’t dimmed for a second.
“Eu não sou estúpido, senhor,”Julio replied, keeping his answer between him and his antagonist.I am not stupid, sir.Then in English and loud enough for all to hear, he said, “I am Julio Juarez, Special Agent to United States Senator McQueen Sullivan. I am here to rescue you.”
The old man spat at Julio’s boots.“Apenas um homem? Ainda mais um homem incompetente? Para salvar todos nós?”One man? One very stupid man? To save all of us?
“Your name, Senhor?” Julio asked politely.
His adversary growled, but answered, “Mauricio Contreras.”
Julio stuck out his hand. Respect. Despite the humiliating circumstances, this older man deserved Julio’s respect. “It is good to meet you,SenhorContreras.”
“Are you American SEAL? One of the brave ones?” some feminine voice lost in the back of the crowd asked.
He released Mauricio’s firm handshake. There was no sense lying. “No,Senhorita, I am not a SEAL,” he declared loudly, needing everyone to understand that right here and now. “But I have come to end Orlando Zapata. Are you with me?”
“Yes,” Pepe blurted. “I am with you,SenhorJuarez, and I’m so sorry I said you were ugly.”
Julio let that telling info-byte pass. He might yet have to be damned ugly before this night ended.
Straightening to his feet, he secured Pepe against his hip, keeping his palm between the poor kid’s shoulder blades to steady him as much as to warm him. “Will you people join me, or would you rather stay here and die working for Zapata?”
