Once Upon a Time in New Mexico
Nov. 23rd, 2012 01:44 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
el_feoTuco cursed and muttered to himself as he yanked the broken rope off of his neck.
The blond had left him here in the cemetery - alone in the New Mexico desert, with no food, no water, no ammunition, and no horse. A dirty son of a bitch, that's what he was - a goddamned coward. Tuco hadn't been afraid to tell him to his face what he thought of him, even at the end, when he howled his last epithet at him as he vanished behind the horizon. But he didn't care - like all the best sons of bitches, he knew he was a son of a bitch.
Blondie would pay for what he'd done to him - that much Tuco knew. If you fooled around with Tuco right that and were dumb enough to leave him alive, you deserved everything you got. And when the day of reckoning came, not even his wealth would save him.
Which reminded him - he still had $100,000 in gold lying beside him. First things first. He dropped to his knees before the four large bags at the top of the grave. In spite of everything, the sight of it still made him smile. Better to be a rich man hell-bent on revenge than a poor one.
He leaned over and grabbed the first two sacks in his right hand. His knees strained and buckled under the weight as he bent over to pick up the other fifty thousand.
And that's when he saw it. A huge gash right through the middle of one of the bags. In his excitement to get his hands on the gold, he had burst it open with his shovel. Now there was nothing to keep the gold from spilling out all over the desert More to the point, he had no horse to put the other three bags on.
The other bags hit the ground with a thud as the realization hit him. He wasn't going to be able to carry this much gold across the desert at midday, with no horse and no protection from policemen or highwaymen. He would have to leave it behind.
"¡Hijo de puta!" Tuco swore, stomping his foot. "Bastard son of a thousand fathers! I'll kill him! I swear to God, I will kill that shit-eating bastard!"
He stomped and cursed and thrashed about the graveyard, kicking up dirt and toppling the crude wooden crosses that marked the dead from General Sibley's doomed campaign. Slowly, his tantrum subsided, dissipating into ragged panting and sweat.
Tuco's nostrils flared as he exhaled deeply. Mindless anger, he knew, would do him no good here. Not if he wanted Blondie dead. And especially not if he wanted that money. No, this would require some thought. The wheels in his head began turning.
Tuco knew that this cemetery was the only sign of civilization for miles. The blues and grays had taken their encampments elsewhere. But someone would come around eventually. Maybe someone who had seen him enter it. Maybe someone who knew where the gold was. Maybe even Blondie. There was only one thing for it - he'd have to bury it again. Someplace different than where it was before. Then he could get a gun and a horse and come back for it. After that he'd have all the time in the world to look for Blondie.
Tuco searched around for a suitable grave. His eyes settled on one nearby - a grave marked William Clay, three graves to the right of Arch Stanton. That ought to be easy enough to remember.
There are two kinds of people in the world: those with horses and those who dig.
Tuco picked up his shovel.
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The last shovelful of dirt fell over William Clay's grave. Tuco hastily crossed himself, quietly grateful that none of the dead here were buried deeply.
Tuco tossed away his shovel, dusted off his hands and grunted. It would be a long walk to Socorro.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
It was just before sunset when Tuco came staggering into town. Socorro was a lot like any other desert village - one main street, two wells, and more tumbleweeds than people. Tuco broke out into a belabored run as the city approached. Almost without stopping, he ducked his head into the nearest of the wells.
The sweet, cool water splashed over Tuco's face and into his parched mouth. Sweet, blessed relief. He turned his head to the right to get more water onto his neck when he saw a storefront that caught his eye. Smith's Guns and Ammunition.
Tuco smiled. Why not? He'd done it before. Hell, if he decided he was feeling merciful today, he could part with some of the fistfuls of gold he'd had the foresight to jam into his pockets instead of murdering the shopkeeper. And they'd always said Tuco was stupid.
Tuco walked up to the storefront and kicked open the door...
The blond had left him here in the cemetery - alone in the New Mexico desert, with no food, no water, no ammunition, and no horse. A dirty son of a bitch, that's what he was - a goddamned coward. Tuco hadn't been afraid to tell him to his face what he thought of him, even at the end, when he howled his last epithet at him as he vanished behind the horizon. But he didn't care - like all the best sons of bitches, he knew he was a son of a bitch.
Blondie would pay for what he'd done to him - that much Tuco knew. If you fooled around with Tuco right that and were dumb enough to leave him alive, you deserved everything you got. And when the day of reckoning came, not even his wealth would save him.
Which reminded him - he still had $100,000 in gold lying beside him. First things first. He dropped to his knees before the four large bags at the top of the grave. In spite of everything, the sight of it still made him smile. Better to be a rich man hell-bent on revenge than a poor one.
He leaned over and grabbed the first two sacks in his right hand. His knees strained and buckled under the weight as he bent over to pick up the other fifty thousand.
And that's when he saw it. A huge gash right through the middle of one of the bags. In his excitement to get his hands on the gold, he had burst it open with his shovel. Now there was nothing to keep the gold from spilling out all over the desert More to the point, he had no horse to put the other three bags on.
The other bags hit the ground with a thud as the realization hit him. He wasn't going to be able to carry this much gold across the desert at midday, with no horse and no protection from policemen or highwaymen. He would have to leave it behind.
"¡Hijo de puta!" Tuco swore, stomping his foot. "Bastard son of a thousand fathers! I'll kill him! I swear to God, I will kill that shit-eating bastard!"
He stomped and cursed and thrashed about the graveyard, kicking up dirt and toppling the crude wooden crosses that marked the dead from General Sibley's doomed campaign. Slowly, his tantrum subsided, dissipating into ragged panting and sweat.
Tuco's nostrils flared as he exhaled deeply. Mindless anger, he knew, would do him no good here. Not if he wanted Blondie dead. And especially not if he wanted that money. No, this would require some thought. The wheels in his head began turning.
Tuco knew that this cemetery was the only sign of civilization for miles. The blues and grays had taken their encampments elsewhere. But someone would come around eventually. Maybe someone who had seen him enter it. Maybe someone who knew where the gold was. Maybe even Blondie. There was only one thing for it - he'd have to bury it again. Someplace different than where it was before. Then he could get a gun and a horse and come back for it. After that he'd have all the time in the world to look for Blondie.
Tuco searched around for a suitable grave. His eyes settled on one nearby - a grave marked William Clay, three graves to the right of Arch Stanton. That ought to be easy enough to remember.
There are two kinds of people in the world: those with horses and those who dig.
Tuco picked up his shovel.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The last shovelful of dirt fell over William Clay's grave. Tuco hastily crossed himself, quietly grateful that none of the dead here were buried deeply.
Tuco tossed away his shovel, dusted off his hands and grunted. It would be a long walk to Socorro.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
It was just before sunset when Tuco came staggering into town. Socorro was a lot like any other desert village - one main street, two wells, and more tumbleweeds than people. Tuco broke out into a belabored run as the city approached. Almost without stopping, he ducked his head into the nearest of the wells.
The sweet, cool water splashed over Tuco's face and into his parched mouth. Sweet, blessed relief. He turned his head to the right to get more water onto his neck when he saw a storefront that caught his eye. Smith's Guns and Ammunition.
Tuco smiled. Why not? He'd done it before. Hell, if he decided he was feeling merciful today, he could part with some of the fistfuls of gold he'd had the foresight to jam into his pockets instead of murdering the shopkeeper. And they'd always said Tuco was stupid.
Tuco walked up to the storefront and kicked open the door...
