Gunslingers Don't Sing or Dance, Mike Marino [classic romance novels .txt] 📗

The look of surprise was worth the wait.

 

“Well, Monty, it’s over me thinks!”

 

“What do we do now. You seem to have won the pot this time.”

 

“There won’t be another time,” Isadora spoke in a frightening tone. “Balam, remove their guns and have your men take the treasure and place it over here.”

 

I could sense she was inside my head, reading my mind, my thoughts, my feelings...and she was. It turns out Venusians, even half Venusians are telepaths so they can extract or inject thoughts into someone’s brain. Handy little trick. I was wondering what to do with all these captives now that they knew about, and where the treasure was hidden. There was still plenty more left over. More than enough! We couldn’t just turn them loose with that knowledge or it would be a free for all in the Yucatan!

 

Balam smiled, “I have an idea. Isadora can erase all memory of this place and the treasure from their minds. Like erasing a blackboard of a difficult math problem. That way the secret is safe. Also we can remove the treasure and place it elsewhere..someplace new….hidden...known only to Isadora. She can then parcel it out as needed.”

 

El Diablo and I agreed. “Great idea. Let’s go for broke!”

 

Isadora began the scan to erase all memories from Monty’s men. We had decided that El Diablo would turn over Monty’s men to the French claiming that they were the revolutionaries and for services rendered would receive the reward for their capture. We on the other hand would take Monty back to New Orleans turning him over to the Pinkertons to stand trial for his crimes.

 

The balloon landed gently this time with a beaming Jules Verne laughing hysterically. “What wonder, what joy this has been. I must get to my writing soon before all is forgotten!”

 

We packed up our horses, the ones we kept tethered on the other side of the pyramid, each loading up with shares of treasure, massive amounts I might add then we all headed for the coast first where Captain Marcel was waiting for us. Isadora had pre-arranged it so we could well get underway across the Gulf and back to New Orleans. El Diablo was asked to come along before heading back to Vera Cruz. Why? I had no idea.

 

As we came to the beach we were greeted by a magnificent, huge, floating yellow submersible. A goddamn submarine!!!! It was monstrous! “I had it built with my share of the forthcoming treasure. They knew I was good for my word….well, isn’t she a marvel!!”

 

It was a dream. We could load all our share of treasure aboard as well as our prisoner and have room to spare making our way back to New Orleans. Marcel then spoke to El Diablo alone and off to the side after which a large portion of El Diablo’s share of treasure was handed over and placed aboard the ship “Neptune” ...then El Diablo rode off to whatever awaited him. (I found out later, Marcel would exchange the treasure for weapons and sail off offshore of Vera Cruz where El Diablo would take the guns and continue his attack on the French forces with success to follow with the defeat and expulsion of the French.

We boarded the Neptune, myself, Isadora, Monty in chains, Jean Paul and his shrunken head, Gallegos, while the Colonel and Jules decided to sail the currents aloft and meet us in New Orleans. Gumbo and Gold...not a bad deal.

 

But….the story doesn’t end here...

 

Chapter 28 - Last Radio Broadcast

 

September 8, 1898

Personal Letter from Baxter Dooley

To: Prof. Sandoz Diego Cerveza

University of Mexico

 

I would like to commend you for taking on the task over these past decades of collecting copies of all my dime novels, letters, diaries, etc. and placing them safely in the university archives. Especially the Yucatan adventure. What grand days those were amigo! You’ll be happy to know Regina, our eldest is the mirror image of her mother Isadora at the same age!!! It’s frightening. She is not aware as of yet of what powers she has, and we may keep it that way. Or such is my hope. The Venusian bloodline is diluted by now somewhat.

 

As you are well aware there are more rumblings in the distance of upcoming revolution in Mexico as well as talk of war between the US and Spain over an island called Cuba. Too bad we’re not back in the game! What adventure would await us. We may have to put our pens down and load our pistols again! We’re getting too old for this shit.

 

I’m sending along some books, signed, Jules sent me of his writings. You may place them in the archives as well if the powers that be approved. He sent two of each, one in French and one in English. It seems he wrote different tales based on our ‘journey to the center of the earth’ as he calls it. Remember the young man he mentioned in New York state he befriended? Turns out he’s a writer too….his first book is about Father Goose but Jules says he also wants to write one about a land of little people, wizards, witches and magic. Sounds strange….maybe it will sell….another writer in England names H.G. Wells is also writing about time machines, Martian invasions and such and is giving Jules a run for his scientific reality money. This could be an exciting boxing match if it came down to that.

 

Monty Debauchery died in a lunatic asylum three years ago I hear. Seems Isadora didn’t quite completely erase his mind and left those images of mushroom dragons, flying submersibles and Midget Mayans. He tried to tell everyone they were real and coming to get him. Poor man, died in his cell one night with a look of absolute horror on his face. No one will ever know what he saw or what Isadora placed inside for him to see….

 

Jean Paul operates a first class restaurant in New Orleans as well as a rather popular bordello called the Rising Sun or something along those lines and is still dabbling in the dark arts of voodoo. Isadora is retired from that line of work. We travel a lot now. Currently making our home in the New Mexico Territory.

 

Isadora sends her love and we look forward to seeing you here at our hacienda during your summer break with your brood of “revolutionary” offspring and your beautiful wife, Esmeralda as our guests for as long as you care to stay.

 

I must close for now...but rest assured….the treasure is safe and when you want more just let us know. It’s hidden in an underground chamber beneath a curious large crater in Arizona thanks to Balam and his men.

 

Look forward to seeing you amigo!

--Baxter--

By October 30, 1938, the world had changed completely. It was also the month, day and year Baxter Dooley would die in his sleep, Isadora and their children at his bedside. It was then that Isadora gave a copy of a new treasure map to her daughter, Regina. Treasure this time hidden some say in Arizona. The torch had been passed!

 

He died but had the pleasure of seeing a motion picture called “The Wizard of Oz” at the local movie house. He and Isadora had to mask their smiles as the village of little people, or Munchkins, were played by Balam and the other Mayan Midgets. They had invaded Hollywood!!!!

On the evening of October 30, he was listening to his radio to a broadcast of music interrupted by a news bulletin read by a young radio announcer, Orson Welles. Martians were invading Earth near New Jersey!!! He began laughing and the family came into the bedroom as he was talking to himself now. Incoherently at first. “One more battle to go! Martians! Hot damn, call El Diablo and get the horses ready by dawn.”

 

Isadora leaned in close and kissed his lips as memories raced through his mind. Her tears fell to his face as she held him close. His eyes closed for the last time as he kissed Isadora and said…”You have always been my treasure!”

 

As he said those words a brilliant star was visible in the sky from the bedroom window. It was Venus in all it’s brilliance. Isadora bent her head to his chest…Goodbye my Baxter. Now sleep….I’ll join you soon, one day….we found our treasure ...in each other.

Imprint

Publication Date: 01-11-2017

All Rights Reserved

Dedication:
Gunslingers Don't Sing and Dance is where Mayan Midgets, a race of inbred space aliens guard the treasure of the ancients. Toss in a Voodoo Queen, a headless horseman and Lincolns Assassination with a touch of Jules Verne and you have a rock and read of saloons and balloons. Gunslingers Don't Sing and Dance is where Mayan Midgets, a race of inbred space aliens guard the treasure of the ancients. Toss in a Voodoo Queen, a headless horseman and Lincolns Assassination with a touch of Jules Verne and you have a rock and read of saloons and balloons.