South To Chihuahua by William L. Hopson

Book Details

South To Chihuahua (1947) is historical fiction of Pancho Villa and the Mexican Revolution.

Mexico had become a hotbed of action, and when these men marched south things began to pop that would make history. This was war. This was Revolucion!

A coup had been staged. Assassinations executed. General Francisco “Pancho” Villa was leading the Constitutionalist Army from the north to meet with  Emiliano Zapata and his forces from the south to take Mexico back from the usurpers. Ed Lash had ridden with Pancho Villa before and, against his will, he was back to ride with him again.

Two men wanted to kill Ed Lash but the dreaded Mexican Rurales would probably kill him first. Lash was caught in a blood feud with one man because he killed his brother. He was caught in a love triangle with another man over a woman he hated.

Two private wars in the middle of Pancho Villa’s campaign to conquer northern Mexico during the Mexican Revolution. And Ed Lash was right in the middle of it all.

William Lee Hopson (1907-1975) was the author of a number of Western stories and novels, writing from the mid 1930s to the end of the 1950s. South To Chihuahua was first published in 1947.

The Battle of Gómez Palacio happened from March 22 to March 26, 1914. About 1,000 men were killed and about 3,000 were wounded. Pancho Villa, on a wave of victories, sent his men on to Torreón. The Second Battle of Torreón occurred between March 26 and April 2, 1914 and Villa again won.

South To Chihuahua contains 3 illustrations.

Files:

1. SouthToChihuahua.epub

Excerpt: South To Chihuahua

Chapter I

HE GOT off the train in Puerta Prieta, tired after the long ride west from El Paso, and crossed the dusty street separating railroad station from the line of adobe buildings with their welcoming shade. The street ran north and south and, at the end of it, was the Customs and Immigration House. Beyond lay Puerta Prieta, Sonora, now garrisoned by General Gonzales and three hundred men of Villa’s Constitutionalist Army.

A man glanced briefly at him, turned for a sharper look, nudged his companion and inclined his head. They disappeared into Canby’s big adobe saloon on the corner and Ed Lash thought bitterly, well, maybe I’ll get the answer a lot sooner than I thought.

They were Whitley and Steward, men who had ridden with him on Colonel Holden’s Gila Company holdings. They had been friends of the Stinson brothers, too, one of whom was now dead.

Lash moved on across the street. He hoped that, after several months, the shooting of the younger Stinson had blown over, submerged in the welter of events across the border. For this was Revolution.

President Madero had been taken from his palace in Mexico City and murdered, along with his Vice President, Pino Suarez.

Iron-handed General Victoriano Huerta was in the Palacio Nacional as Dictator, backed solidly by the other Generals who had assisted in the murderously successful plot against “The Little Fellow.”

But up north in Hermosillo, Venustiana Carranza—petulant, jealous, suspicious—had refused to recognize the new “President.”

He had revolted, joined forces with Francisco Villa, bought arms from gun runners north of the line, and sent Villa smashing into Chihuahua City to become Military Governor of the state at the head of an army of nine thousand men.

Revolucion.  It had begun as a murmur, grown to a cry of angry protest, and rolled forward in the savage roar of full scale warfare in the desert.

Villa had taken garrison after garrison from Huerta’s armies in Northern Mexico and there had been some fighting at Puerta Prieta. But the small force of ill-armed Federales, their garrison visible down beyond the boundary fence, had preferred to withdraw into the desert after a desultory two hour battle with the three hundred Villa men under command of General Gonzales.

Lash nodded to two American Negro soldiers, patrolling in pairs with Springfield rifles over their shoulders. Beyond the line men of Carranza’s forces, carrying captured Mauser rifles, also were on guard. Lash pushed onto the the side walk through a welter of men; quiet salesmen from the munitions companies, representatives of mining interests trying to get word across, rich refugees, plotting and counter plotting politicos who had been forced to flee. And, here and there, swaggering, gun packing, long haired men who referred to themselves as “warriors” going down to help Villa.

He wanted a beer in Canby’s to cut the fatigue of the train ride but thought better of it. Whitley and Steward were there. It might mean another shoot out. Likely they were hunting Colonel Holden.

Ed Lash moved on up the street with his bag. It would be best first to talk with Abernathy and find out from his lawyer how things lay. The affair was months past. Things possibly had blown over, cooled by time. Colonel Holden might have relented.

The small frame building housing James Abernathy’s office was empty, a padlock on the door. Desk, chairs, and the glassed in book cases housing rows of yellow backed law books were gone. A man’s voice said, “Friend, if you’re looking for Jim Abernathy, he’s a few doors further up in that new building.”

Lash said, “Thanks,” and shifted the bag again with a brief nod.

He came to the building. It was low, square, flat topped. Plaster, painted a new cream yellow, covered the adobe’s thick walls. It looked cool, crisp—and prosperous. Lash read, James Abernathy, Attorney-At-Law, in gold letters on the left front window. On the pane of the right one, beyond the open doorway, was lettered in more gold words, The Gila Cattle Company. Colonel Joseph Holden, Mgr. Puerta Prieta, Arizona.

Ed Lash let a brief, saturnine grin flit across his ugly, almost swarthy face and went inside the hallway. Through the open door of Abernathy’s office he saw his lawyer, busy with some papers, back of the yellow desk.

He said casually, “Hello, Jim,” and placed the bag on the floor.

“Good God!” Abernathy said and got up.

Excerpt From: William L. Hopson. “South To Chihuahua.”