Slocum's Breakout - Jake Logan [62]
He rode through the woods, stopping often to listen for either guards or Murrieta. As luck would have it, he found Murrieta in a cold camp some distance ahead.
He saw the man’s dark figure rise and go for the rifle leaning against a fallen log.
“It’s me,” Slocum called. “I’ve got him.” As if to acknowledge this, José Valenzuela let out a moan and began to struggle, trying to slide off the horse.
Slocum rode closer to Murrieta, then reached over, grabbed Valenzuela by the belt, and yanked. The man fell heavily and struggled to sit up.
Murrieta stepped up and swung the butt of the rifle. The impact of wooden stock against bony chin sounded like a gunshot.
“Quiet,” Slocum cautioned. “Wilkinson has his men out patrolling the main road.”
“I know. I have my own lookout to warn me.”
“Who?” Slocum went for his six-shooter, then stopped when they were joined by another darkness-clad figure he recognized instantly. “You shouldn’t have come. This is too dangerous.”
“I had to,” Maria said. “Procipio needed help with everything from the store.”
“You got it all? No trouble?”
“John, you know me well by now. There was no problem.”
Slocum had questions but found his mouth otherwise occupied with Maria’s lips pressing hard. They kissed. He was aware of Murrieta watching and felt uneasy at this, but Maria did not.
“I can watch our prisoner,” Murrieta said, some disdain in his voice.
Maria took Slocum by the hand and insistently pulled him out into the dark woods for privacy. His last sight of camp was Murrieta securely tying Valenzuela, and then he was otherwise delightfully occupied for the rest of the night.
Valenzuela struggled, but Murrieta had bound him well, adding a gag to be sure he wouldn’t draw attention to himself until the time was right.
Slocum and Maria watched Murrieta ride away, circling the imposing prison walls with a pack animal loaded with everything from the general store.
“When do we act?” she asked.
Slocum put his finger to her lips as he heard the clatter of hooves along the road leading to the prison’s front gate. They watched from a secluded spot a hundred yards away as Sheriff Bernard rode to the gate, which immediately opened.
“He came,” Maria said. “He wants to see Atencio die!”
Slocum wasn’t sure that was the sheriff’s motive, but he said nothing. Wilkinson sent out a small platoon of guards to escort the sheriff inside. Two of the guards remained outside, both armed with rifles.
“After what happened before,” Slocum said softly, although it was unlikely the guards could overhear at such a distance, “the warden’s not taking any chances.”
Valenzuela struggled and tried to cry out, but the gag in his mouth prevented more than a muffled sound.
“They will accept you dead as well as alive,” Maria said with venom. This did nothing to still Valenzuela’s struggles.
“Leave him be. The execution is scheduled for fifteen minutes,” Slocum said.
“Then do it now, John. Take no chances!”
“Too soon and Atencio won’t be brought out from the cell block.”
“Wait too long and he will die!”
Slocum understood her anxiety, but timing was vital.
“You mount up and hightail it away,” he told her. “There’s no reason for you to be here now. Murrieta ought to be in position.” Slocum checked his pocket watch again. Keyed up, he felt the same thrill he always had before going into battle during the war. His troops, such as they were, had been deployed . . .
“I hear chants from inside,” Maria said.
“I’ll be damned if the warden hasn’t brought out the prisoners to watch the execution. That’s the only reason for so much noise.”
Slocum led Valenzuela’s horse out of the thicket and fastened the reins around the saddle horn.
To Maria, he said, “I told you to get out of here. The time’s right to get this started.”
She gave him a quick kiss, saying, “For luck!” Then she mounted and rode away from San Quentin. Slocum counted to ten, then slapped Valenzuela