We heard bugle calls, shots, and he
was away without leave. That left the girl with me. I don't know
what to do. Thorne swears Casita is no place for Mercedes at night."
"The girl ain't no peon, no common Greaser?" interrupted Ladd.
"No. Her name is Castaneda. She belongs to an old Spanish family,
once rich and influential."
"Reckoned as much," replied the cowboy. "There's more than Rojas's
wantin' to kidnap a pretty girl. Shore he does that every day or so.
Must be somethin' political or feelin' against class. Well, Casita
ain't no place for your friend's girl at night or day, or any time.
Shore, there's Americans who'd take her in an' fight for her, if
necessary. But it ain't wise to risk that. Lash, what do you say?"
"It's been gettin' hotter round this Greaser corral for some weeks,"
replied the other cowboy. "If that two-bit of a garrison surrenders,
there's no tellin' what'll happen. Orozco is headin' west from Agua Prieta
with his guerrillas. Campo is burnin' bridges an' tearin' up the railroad
south of Nogales. Then there's all these bandits callin' themselves
revolutionists just for an excuse to steal, burn, kill, an' ride
off with women. It's plain facts, Laddy, an' bein' across the U.S.
line a few inches or so don't make no hell of a difference. My advice
is, don't let Miss Castaneda ever set foot in Casita again."
"Looks like you've shore spoke sense," said Ladd. "I reckon, Gale,
you an' the girl ought to come with us.
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