He set his spurs into the flank of the horse and led his men through the gates.
“They been doing some work, Jefe ,” observed one of the slavers a moment later. “Look at them walls.”
“Sure. I see them. They been working hard. Shame it’s all for fuckin’ nothing,” Bivar said, laughing.
Now that they were actually inside the village, his doubts had evaporated. The fact that it seemed deserted didn’t worry him at all. There’d be plenty of them in the trees, as easy to trail as a three-legged sow. And once you got a few of the peons, you only had to use the flame or the steel on them to bring the rest out of the forest.
Bivar gestured for his men to form a rough half circle on both sides of him, covering the whole open area of the village. Smoke from one of the fires blew toward him, making the palomino skittish. He cursed it, striking the mare between the ears with his clenched fist.
He hadn’t bothered to draw his blaster. Since there was nobody around, there didn’t seem very much point.
When he was sure that his men were ready, he called out, “Hey, peasants, you lost your cojones ? Come out, come out wherever you is.”
His voice echoed around the open area.
“I think they all gone, Jefe .” Someone giggled, his voice thin and high with nerves.
“I try again.” Bivar shouted louder, “Hey, you come out and you don’t get hurt! Stay hidden and we get mad.”
RYAN LOOKED along the row of huts, catching the anxious eyes of Itzcoatl. He grinned at the native to reassure him, putting his finger to his lips to reassert the need for quiet.
At his side, J.B. was blowing on a length of slow fuse that he and Doc had made, ready to apply it to the first of the line of thermite bombs.
Ryan watched Bivar, who seemed to be losing authority with some of his men. “I give you one more chance!” the slaver yelled. “Then me and my amigos start doing some shooting.”
Ryan stood and showed himself, eye raking the group of thirty-six slavers, ready to duck back behind cover at the first sign of a threat.
Bivar leaned forward on his saddle horn, smiling with what seemed genuine amusement. “So, the outlander! I should’ve known, when my men didn’t come back to me. Yeah, I should’ve fuckin’ known.”
“They got to be dead,” Krysty said, matching the slaver for calm. “And real soon you all get to join them.”
J.B. was beside Ryan, and he whispered a warning. “Watch him with that hat. He take it off and likely uses it to mask drawing his blaster.”
Ryan nodded almost imperceptibly, concentrating on Bivar. “You got one chance.”
“And what’s that, amigo?”
“You all get down. Drop the blasters. Strip naked and you’ll be walked through the forest for three or four days. Come back and you’re dead.”
Bivar stood again in the stirrups. “Hear that, brothers? This gringo say we’re all trapped. Us, by him.”
He turned to Ryan. “But figure you got your friends with you. The women and the little boy. I tell you, amigo, I’m real fuckin’ terrified by you.”
“You should be,” Ryan said. “You got no choice, Bivar. Unless being dead is a good choice.”
The men were getting restless, with hands dropping to the butts of their blasters, and Ryan could almost taste the bitterness of anger.
“This goes long enough,” Bivar spit. “You think these pissy little walls keep us out? Well, they fuckin’ don’t, compadre . Because we already in.”
“The walls weren’t built to keep you out, Bivar. They’re here to keep you in, so we can cut you all down.”
“Like a lot of big oak trees? You hear that one, my friends? This man with no ax is cutting us all down to the ground. We like to see that, huh?”
“Shoot him, Jefe ,” Manuel muttered.
Bivar waved a hand at his lieutenant. “Real soon,” he whispered, talking out of the corner of his mouth. “How come he so certain of himself? Where the fuck the others?”