Gunslingers Don't Sing or Dance by Mike Marino (any book recommendations txt) 📕

That flying machine of yours, you can fly like an eagle and see all around, yes?”

“Yes, young man you can. Which brings me to the reason I made a rather botched landing here. I wanted to warn you that there are approximately 30 men riding hard on your trail 20 miles or so back.”

Gallegos spoke next. “Gringo’s?”

“Yes, gringos. I was able to observe them when I floated into the area quite by accident. Soon the winds brought me here and saw you. Don’t know if you have anything to do with them, but wanted to warn you anyway. Can’t be too careful these days, you know.”

El Diablo, ever the skeptic, asked without masking his wariness, “Why are you flying around Mexico. Looking for colorful parrots?”

“No my friend, if truth be told I am searching the Yucatan for pyramids and any other sign of ancient life and times. I have a theory,” he said lowering his voice, why I don’t know. “You see some treasure hunters have been in the region before and never found any gold, silver, diamonds or rubies, but, they have found strange carvings on cave walls of sky ships the likes of which no one today has ever seen. These carvings are not of balloons, no sir. They have strange shapes and not of this world. They tell me they are myths born of Mayan beliefs in gods from the sky. I say they are not myths, but realities, so I am searching for the truth. If I find treasure in the meantime that will be a bonus!”

“Now wait just onedamned minute.” I took a harsh tone. “You think there are moon men that have come in the past and probably stole the treasure?”

“No, I’m saying there is no treasure and never has been. Only stories made up. If there were treasure as they say in the abundance they say, I could have financed the entire Southern cause during the war!”

El Diablo was amused, but we had more pressing matters to attend to. “We have riders coming and we don’t know who they are and we have a long way to go yet to where we are going so I suggest we make camp for the night and get our bearings.”

El Diablo’s men would make camp where we were so they could be in open space and keep a watchful eye on the road behind in case the pursuers were looking for us. They would rotate guard duty and would be ready for anything.

“My balloon is in need of repair so would it be an imposition to join you this evening?”

“No amigo, not at all.”

“We’ll stay too,” I offered having gotten the ‘yes’ look of approval from Isadora and Jean-Paul. “We’ll be safer together and in the morning we can all head out together. I guess we’re all looking for the same thing. Skyships or treasure. If there is treasure as we suspect there will be, there should be  plenty for all of us. We have the map inside our head, El Diablo has the firepower to fend off any attack, and you Col. Beauregard have a skyship to make observations ahead and behind so we don’t get bushwhacked.”

Isadora nodded to confirm, giving in effect her permission o for the mission’s added new element….an eagle eye north west east and south. The elimination of surprise from any point on the compass. Our own skyship and alien visitor from the Confederate Planet!


We would go in shifts into town to eat and and relax, Isadora, Jean Paul, Gallegos, El Diablo and the sky pilot, Col. Beauregard and ten of the outlaw band would go first.
The outlaws to eat, drink, gamble and round up a seniorita for an hour while we would discuss our overall plans and formulate a timetable.

We made our way into Campeche and  the first cantina we came to we entered and ordered beans and rice, breads and cerveza. Isadora was already organized in her thoughts. “Tomorrow we should get rid of the pack mules except one to carry supplies. They are slowing us down and we are not fooling anyway anyway. We can use the money and get to our target faster.” We all agreed.

I asked Col. Beauregard about the group of men riding in our direction, now as night was falling they would be camped somewhere not far behind us. “What did the lead horse look like Col.? Could you see it’s coloring at all?”

“Of course I could. I have a pretty good telescope. During the war I could tell what kind of cigar your Gen. Grant was smoking. The lead horse was a chestnut. Magnificent horseflesh and large. The rider had a patch on one eye, no mistake about that.”

No there was no mistake about that. It was Monty Debauchery! Somehow he had gotten wind of our ruse and knew exactly what direction to find us. How, was a puzzle to me. Maybe sky ships were guiding him. Or he had figured it out from the start. Perhaps I had underestimated him.

“We better get your balloon fixed in a hurry Col. I think I know who it is. El Diablo, we need an early start. I know this man Monty and he is after the treasure too and is dangerous. We can get a good lead ahead and be ready for them. We’ll do the bushwhacking not Monty Debauchery!”

Gallegos jumped up and in an agitated voice said he will look for a buyer for the mules tonight to save time and disappeared into the night. The rest of us finished our meal and beer and headed back to the camp to help repair the balloon and get as much shut eye as we could. We wanted to make it to Merida up the road which would be our starting point to reach the pyramid of Chichen Itza where all indications pointed to X marks the spot.

When we made it back to camp, Isadora took me aside and by the flickering light of the campfire quietly brought out her father’s journal opening it to a page with drawings. He had been to Chichen Itza and other pyramids. His journal showed drawings of the types of sky ships and tall strange beings Beauregard described. Ancient gods? Sky travelers? Perhaps peyote delusions. The truth was beginning to blur. Skyships and treasure? Skyships or treasure? Or was it something we were better off not knowing about.
Time and reality would tell. Chapter 15 - Dia de los Muertos

Dia de los Muertos
Baxter Dooley
Personal Journal Entry
Two days ago, we had left Campeche with everyone on horseback while three of us flew aloft in Col. Beauregards gas filled CSA balloon. We first had to make repairs to some small rips in the balloon fabric, Once we had completed that phase we fired up  his portable gas generation machine, adding to it from his supplies the correct concentration of sulfuric acid and iron filings so we could create enough hydrogen to soar above the landscape and dance with the eagles! God may not have given us wings to fly, but by playing god, we gave them to ourselves! It was marvelous. We could see the Yucatan laid out a’fore us. A quilted pattern of arid composition imbedded with the trappings of Toltec culture. The stories this land could tell if only it could speak!
Baxter Dooley
August 23, 1867
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Isadora, Jean-Paul & I traveled in the Col.’s balloon at his invitation while El Diablo led to rebel band on the dusty road to Merida. They brought along our saddled horses and the two remaining mules laden now, (in addition to some tools) bags of beans and foodstuff. Gallego’s had sold the excess pack mules to a livery stable owner who without much economic means did the best he could to make the transaction fair. We could have made more in Texas, but we weren’t in Texas, we were in Mexico now. Partial payment was in the form of a few bags of dried beans and rice, which it turns out we would be grateful later on as we made our way over the stark terrain from Merida to Chichen Itza and it’s pyramid of hidden treasure not to mention evidence of visitors from the sky in ancient times. We laughed at this idea, yet here we were aloft in a large 5 person basket with a Confederate sky pilot!


“Meet you in Merida,” I yelled to the men on the ground and we began our journey by looking behind our party to see if Monty and his mounted merry men were gaining ground on our party,  but had no sight of them. “Nothing in sight El Diablo, be safe. See you soon.” The rebels were amazed at the airborne display and waved sombrero’s at us with a chorus of “Adios!” to send us on our way towards Merida.


The journey was not long as the airborne balloon swallowed vast expanses of ground in  what seemed to be silent, motionless minutes. We set down a quarter mile outside of Merida to await  the rest of our party when they arrived. We would make camp here. The Col. told us to go ahead and scout the town while he and Jean-Paul took care of the balloon deflation and waited for the others to arrive at our rendezvous point.


Isadora looked radiant, glowing, excited and exciting. The journey aloft made us both feel so alive inside. As we walked the short distance to the town. She took my hand in hers and I felt fire in my heart. We didn’t say a word. We didn’t have to. Our touch spoke for us.
Once in town we found it gay with a fiesta.


Seems a festival of some sort was underway with the towns people wearing hideous make-up that would scare the meanest of hombres! “They look as though they’re skeletons come alive,” I mentioned to Isadora when suddenly a voice from behind interjected, “Exactly what they are, or at least are portraying monsieur.” Great, another damned Frenchie.


We both turned and Isadora began to engage in a conversation in French with this intruder of tender moments, then they both returned to English with Isadora laughing. “He admired our balloon Baxter. He could see us from here make our landing and wants to get a closer look at it before we leave.” I smiled at the stranger and held out my hand to be friendly. “I’m Baxter Dooley, sir, A pleasure to meet you.” He proffered his hand in greeting, “My name is Jules Verne. I’m traveling in Mexico to examine its colorful culture. I’m a writer you see and gathering material for some books I intend to write. I was thinking what a great adventure novel it would be. A trip in a balloon to faraway places! Mon Dieu!”


“Perhaps we can give you a ride before we leave Merida. We’re going inland from here.” I explained.


“I am too! I’m going to explore Mayan pyramids for a research paper I am working on for the Bibliotheche Nationale de France. I would be most grateful for transportation there if it is permissible.  I am willing to pay for the privilege.”


“I don’t think