Chapter 36. The Apostate’s Rebellion
“Hope isn’t a method.”
– The Annals of the Romero Family
The Hacienda Anciana
Arturo rode toward the towering arches of the Hacienda at sundown with someone bound and sitting behind him. They rapidly approached the steps, meeting guards at the gate. Two banditos trained their weapons on Arturo as he climbed off his horse and unloaded his bounty.
“Arturo Romero, Estaban wants to see you. Now,” one bandito said.
“There’re rumors you’ve gone rogue. They’re just rumors, right?” the other asked.
Arturo pulled his bounty up, offering him forward to the banditos. “I’ve been doing what I had to do. Estaban will want to see this man much more than me.” Arturo passed through the entryway. The two banditos followed close behind. Arturo made his way to the courtyard, casually glancing toward the basement that was now sealed off and guarded. He looked over to his partner, who chuckled nervously in response. Arturo turned back to the two banditos escorting him.
“What’re you two waiting for? You don’t recognize Jacob Agramonte? Take him to Estaban now!” Arturo shouted.
“That’s Jake? The Jake? He don’t even look like one a’ us,” one of the banditos sputtered.
Arturo dropped his hand to his holster, glaring at the banditos and offering the hostage to them. The two banditos secured their guest and started marching him upstairs. One of the banditos kept a keen eye on Arturo as they marched.
“What’re you looking at? The post you left unmanned? Don’t worry about it—I’ll find someone who will actually do the job. You’ll be lucky if I decide it isn’t worth addressing myself and leave for Estaban.”
The two banditos, seemingly confused, increased the pace of their march to a set of stairs leading to the second level of the Hacienda. Arturo walked back to the now unmanned gate, scoping out the surrounding area outside of the Hacienda. He found Lorena, Alma, and Glenn crouched near the wall, hiding near his horse as a red car drove off in the distance.
“They on their way?” he asked.
“C-cris and Geroge will get it done,” Glenn replied.
“All right, let’s go.” Arturo nodded to Jake, who stood smoking in the shadows.
The two headed back inside, Jake wearing a large cowboy hat with his duster to conceal his face. With the supply basement cut off, they were forced to reevaluate their plan of attack.
“No way we’re gettin’ ta’ that cellar,” Jake said.
“No, we’re not. We’re gonna have to do this the old-fashioned way.”
“Purgatorius Ignis…”
“Grab the oil and start with the rear entrance.”
“You and yer fuckin’ fire…goddamn pyro.”
Arturo walked slowly and upright, garnering as much attention as possible while Jake snuck off into one of the side rooms behind the pillars. Arturo stopped to watch the lighting of the lamps, appreciating the serenity of the Hacienda at night. He shook his head, moving on toward the chapel.
He stepped inside, the few banditos in prayer turning toward him to see who’d entered. They moved to stand upon recognizing him, but with a gesture of his hand, Arturo motioned for them to remain seated. The banditos returned to their prayers as he drew a stick of incense from a small case near the altar and knelt before an effigy of the Holy Mother, lighting the incense.
“Beneath your compassion, we take refuge, O Divine Mother: do not despise our prayers, we your wicked children, in this—our time of pandemonium, but should we fall—deliver us from dangers. O Pure and blessed one, forgive us.”
A heavy fist slammed into the chapel door, bursting it open and bringing moonlight into the church. Several banditos piled into the church, calling for Arturo. At the head of the group stood Adelais.
“Tell me ya weren’t dumb enough ta’ bring her here,” he said.
“No dumber than the man walking into the hungry lion’s den.”
“We got Lehane upstairs. Dunno why ya’d think Estaban couldn’t tell the difference between some punk and the man who got his daughter killed.”
“Doesn’t matter. Estaban won’t make a move until he’s sure of the situation. Stand aside and I’ll deal with him myself.”
Adelais refused to move, the remaining banditos circling in around Arturo. He stood his ground, taking a deep breath.
“I saw ya’ here earlier with Lorena. Makin’ moves on her is already enough of a reason ta’ put ya’ down. But then I got this list with yer name on it, so… block the doors. No one leaves until this is done.”
The banditos fanned out, covering the entrance to the chapel. Adelais stepped up to Arturo, looking down on him to size him up. “Two ways this goes down. Your old friends put bullets in your face, or ya’ drop that fancy gun on yer side, and we’ll do this decent. Last man standing.”
Arturo nodded, unfastening his holster and tossing it to the side. Adelais nodded out of respect, and lunged at Arturo. Adelais planted his fist in Arturo’s chest, sending him back into one of the few rows of pews. Arturo regained his footing, and launched himself into Adelais, unable to shake the giant’s balance. Arturo dug his feet into the floor, wrapping his arms around Adelais’s waist. He shifted around behind Adelais, climbing onto his back and digging his heels into Adelais’s thighs in an attempt to put him into a rear naked choke, but was unable to gain the advantage. Adelais dropped onto his back, crushing Arturo as they crashed into the floor.
Leaving Arturo on the ground, Adelais spun back onto his feet. He slammed his boot into the floor, narrowly missing Arturo as the kin leader rolled over and pulled himself up. He threw a long knee into Adelais’s gut. Adelais winced, losing his footing, and fell back into the pulpit, splintering it into pieces as Arturo tackled him to the floor. Arturo managed to regain his footing, kicking Adelais repeatedly with his steel greaves. He continued his assault until he felt a sharp pain in his back, hit by a falling piece of the rafters. Climbing out from underneath the wooden debris, he caught the scent of smoke as he pulled himself up, and began looking for an open exit. Making his way for the door, Adelais tackled him to the floor, pinning him with his knees.
“Helluva fighter, Arturo. Almost a shame ta’ put ya’ down. Ta’ be honest, I’ve had enough of killin’, but peace is more important than you or me.” Adelais paused before adding, “An’ even though he deserved it, I’m sorry I had ta’ kill yer brother.”
A deep well of regret surged from within as Arturo thought of his brother rotting in the ground, put there by the vagabond so willing to shed blood. Arturo reached across the floor for his holster, drawing his revolver and firing it off. Adelais recoiled, howling out as he toppled over. Arturo sat up, reaching around to feel his back. His fingers returned wet, coated in a thin layer of red. He regained his focus, watching the chapel burn, engulfed in flames. He looked around to the banditos standing guard, some of them having run off while others remained with weapons drawn.
“Don’t die here!” Arturo shouted out. “This man is a fool—you don’t have to lose your lives with him. This place is burning away with the old ways—if you want to survive, escape and head to the museum. You’ll find refuge.” He looked into the eyes of the few men remaining. “You all know me, I’ve kept you alive, and I intend to keep doing so. Trust me.”
Some of the men exchanged glances, while others began moving toward the door. Several banditos fled, leaving only a couple behind. Arturo landed on his back on the floor, his arms refusing to cooperate with the rest of his body as his lungs began to ache. He rolled onto his stomach and started crawling toward the door, trying to escape the heat of the flames. Not far off, Adelais moaned in pain. Arturo reached over for his revolver, picking it up and closing one eye as he aimed for Adelais. He fired off a shot.
The gun slipped from Arturo’s grasp as someone pulled him up, bracing him enough to walk. Jake hauled him out of the church.
“You’re saving me?”
“Sorta. Fre
sh outta bullets and ya’ make a good shield.”
Arturo recognized the bastard grin Jake wore as they made it out to the fountain. Turning back, the blaze started dying down as banditos pulled damage control. Re-assessing their situation, Arturo saw banditos on all sides surround them, with Estaban watching from his balcony.
“Shit,” Arturo exclaimed.
“Nice coup d’état. I see it wasn’t a mistake to put you two at the top of my list. Alphabetical order is always such a mistake,” Estaban called down. “Arturo, we live in a desert. We’re prepared for a little fire. I’m sorry you feel I’m an inadequate leader, but there were probably better ways to let me know. Now you’ve forced me into a position to prove otherwise. I hate having to prove otherwise.” Estaban sighed as he shook his head. “Take comfort in the fact that at least you were a decent man, unlike your piss-stain of a brother.” Estaban began looking around. “That reminds me, where’s Adelais? Bring him to me.” Estaban turned and headed back toward his abode. As he walked away, he shouted out, “Oh, string Arturo up, and bring the other one to me!”
Several banditos pulled Arturo from Jake, separating the two. They dragged Arturo up against the burnt-out—but no longer burning—chapel and left him against the wall as they went inside. He leaned back, recovering as he watched them carry Adelais.
Arturo’s arms started trembling, though he was too exhausted to care. He had an idea of what was to come, and he could do nothing to stop it. He exhaled and quietly lowered his head, mumbling a prayer to himself.
“O Divine Mother, I draw nigh to Thee with a contrite and humble heart.”
He recited the litany, waiting for the banditos to return. Before long, they came back and stood him up, forcing a needle in his arm. Understanding it as an act of mercy, Arturo offered no resistance as they drugged him. Only marginally maintaining awareness, he felt himself being hoisted. He looked around, but his eyes became lazy and were unable to report much.
Suspended against the building, he lost feeling in his body as he noticed his wrists were being held up by something, tied against the structure. His arms outstretched, his ankles were next to be tied to the building with heavy rope. A noose dropped loosely around his neck, though he did his best to avoid looking at it. The banditos having apparently finished their work, his body dropped slightly, now held up only by the ropes securing his wrists, ankles, and neck.
The rope burned against his neck, but it didn’t stop him from breathing. Estaban would want his suffering to last as long as possible. This was the punishment for treason. Arturo shed no tears as his thoughts shifted to his brother, Alejandro, while he hanged against the church, waiting to die.