Hell Bent For Leather - Young Guns

Chapter 8 Dirty Sanchez

Chapter Summary: It's time for Billy and Jessie to leave Juarez. Charlie insists on coming with them, even when Jessie tells him to stay.
Deep down, though, she knows that they need more than just Charlie with them in order to survive.

Mid August, 1878
The weekly dance was being held tonight and many people from the nearby towns were expected to arrive.

I felt bad about shouting at Billy and Charlie earlier. I really felt that Charlie should stay here in old Mexico, but Billy wants Charlie to come with us. What Billy wants...Billy gets.

I apologized to both Billy and Charlie. Charlie took it well, giving me a big hug of forgiveness, but I got a much colder reaction from Billy. As I told him that I was sorry, he looked at me straight in the eyes, a look of annoyance clouding his face. He didn't say one word to me.

With Manuela's urging, I wore one of her nicest dresses, a beautiful dark brown one, with white ribbons attached to the sleeves, waist and hem. She wore her best red lace dress, and then we both worked on each other's hair, styling it up.

"You and Billito are fighting, no?" She asked me.

I sighed. "He's still upset at my outburst earlier, but he'll get over it."

"Bueno!" Manuela stated, grabbing her shawl. "Shall we have our men escort us to the fiesta then?"

I was sitting alone, wondering where Billy had gone. He has been pretty distant this evening, and I didn't push him. I glanced towards the couples dancing, spotting Charlie and Manuela dancing and laughing together.
"Quieres bailar?" A gruff voice asked me. Do you want to dance?

I glanced up to see a Mexican hovering above me. He was filthy dirty, wearing a huge sombreroon his head, and was well armed as well. It's Dirty Sanchez! I observed, staring at him in awe. Dirty Sanchez is well known for his huge black mustache, black eyes and angry demeanor. He and his three compadres were the meanest set of banditos out of south Texas. They robbed trains, banks and everything else they could get a hold of. Some people called Dirty Sanchez the Jesse James of the West.

"Ah! You don't speak Spanish? That's okay...I speak English." He flashed his yellowed teeth at me. "So...would you like to dance?"

Why is he talking to me? Doesn't he know who I am? "No thank you, Senor." I told him, turning him down. "I'm waiting for someone."

He laughed at my reply. "Don't be a silly girl." He said, grabbing my arm. "Let's dance querida."

My eyes narrowed. "Let go of me."

He just smiled; his meaty fingers still grasping my upper arm. "Do you know who I am?"

I just sat there, staring up at him.

"Puta!" He spat, staring at me. "I'm Dirty Sanchez, you stupid bitch!" Apparently, he was used to being recognized.

"So bloody what?" I countered.

This made him laugh again. His hand still gripping my upper arm, he proceeds to force me up, slamming my body into his. "You're the prettiest girl here." He whispered, his eyes roaming my body. "You should feel honored, querida."

I made a face. His breath was stale, reeking of cheroot. Dirty Sanchez also has unbelievable bad body odor. It took all my might not to throw up. "I'm not you querida you...you...pendejo!"

He didn't laugh at that. He narrowed his brown eyes at me. "You will be...after tonight." He pulled a large knife from his belt and threatened me with it, forcing me to walk with him. "Perhaps if you please me, I won't kill you"

I didn't say a word. I was concentrating on how I was going to get out of this situation. Why didn't I take my six-shooters? Or my knives even? Where the bloody hell was Billy when I needed him?