They departed for Mexico the following morning at dawn. The quartet, along with their heavily laden packhorse, waded the Rio Grande at a shallow crossing a few miles south of Del Rio.

Pritchard made it clear to their guide that at the first inkling of treachery on his part, he would be instantly shot dead, and he, Ditch, and Franchard would find Boone’s Mexican ranch themselves. Ruiz signaled his understanding. He hadn’t forgotten the speed with which Pritchard had gunned down four men.

It was a full day’s ride, as Ruiz had promised, to Zaragosa. By sundown, Pritchard, Ditch, Franchard, and their Mexican guide were overlooking Winston Boone’s Mexican spread from the crest of a ridge a quarter mile out.

There was a ranch house, a large bunkhouse, an outhouse, and a barn next to an extensive corral. Ditch pointed out that it was at least as extensive an operation as Winston Boone’s spread back in the States. The horse corral contained at least forty horses, but there were no cows in sight.

Ruiz explained the lack of cattle was because the Triple B outfit had only recently arrived in Mexico, evidently forced to flee as a result of the massacre at the stagecoach station. He conjectured that Boone was probably in the process of soliciting livestock orders from the Mexican army. The three men he’d sent back into the U.S., whom Pritchard killed along with Ruiz’s partner, were scouting for herds to steal. Ruiz admitted his meeting at the cantina in Del Rio with Collins and his two companions was for the express purpose of guiding them to a ranch in Corpus Christi where a vast herd of cattle was ripe for the plucking.

“You’ve been to Boone’s Mexican ranch before?” Franchard asked him.

“Sí. Señor Boone and his son, and a few of his most trusted hands, stay in the ranch house. Sometimes there are Mexican army officers who stay there, too. None of the ordinary hands, whether Boone’s or the Mexican soldiers, are allowed inside. They must remain in the bunkhouse. There are many cots within it, and a kitchen.”

“I see only two guards standing watch outside,” Pritchard said, peering through his spyglass. “The one near the ranch house is in uniform. The one near the bunkhouse looks like a cowhand. There’s smoke coming from both chimneys.” He handed the glass to Franchard, who confirmed his observations.

“No need for any more watchmen,” Franchard commented. “There ain’t no herd to guard yet.”

“You think Winston and Wesley are down there?” Ditch asked.

“I do,” Pritchard said. “I can feel ’em.”

“It is going to be cold tonight,” Ruiz said. “The men will be drinking and playing cards indoors.”