Jim Kane - J P S Brown (32 page)

Kane looked down over the edge of the cliff. It was
about 300 feet to the bottom where the tops of the pines pointed at
him. Kane could see no reason why a man would build a corral next to
a cliff when there was so much room everywhere else.

The cattle in the small corral were composed largely
of yearlings. There were a few two-year-olds. They were all
corriente
. There were
spotted cattle of all colors; paints, blue roans, red roans,
linebacks, brindles, bald-faced ones, duns, browns, blacks, whites,
reds, and grays. They were in good shape. The good horns were already
six inches long or more on the yearlings and the twos had horns a
foot and a half long. The twos would work for rodeo in the States.

"
How much can you give me for the twos?"
the tall, thin Valencia said softly, suavely.

"
Four hundred pesos," said Kane.

"
We are accustomed to selling twos at five
hundred pesos, even six hundred during the rainy season."

"I'm not accustomed to giving that."

"Can't you give four hundred and fifty pesos?"

"How about the yearlings?"

"
Three hundred."

"Give me three hundred and twenty-five."

"
OK but give me the twos for four hundred."

The tall Valencia thought a moment. He wiped his
nose. He walked toward the cattle, his back to Kane while he thought.
The cattle moved restlessly, looking at him and looking away. The
cattle on the fringe next to the man hunted openings between their
brothers and shoved their way deeper into the herd, burying their
senses in its warmth. The tall Valencia came back.

"
Pues, I'm going to sell you mine. When will you
take them?" he asked.

"
I'll take delivery in Yecora on the
twenty-fifth with the rest of the cattle I buy on this trip."

"Pay me ten pesos a head more for taking them to
Yecora. They are good steers and I'm selling cheap."

"
I'm sorry. I can't do it."

"
I need some money now for provisions. For
Christmas."

That makes him even suaver, Kane thought. He believes
in spending at Christmastime.

"
I brought money for that," Kane said.
"I'll advance you ten pesos a head. But I don't want that
lumpjaw, the swayback, the little one-eyed one, or the broken-legged
one."

"
Where are any cattle like that?" asked the
Valencia.

"
Inside the bunch. Watch the gate and I'll cut
them out right now."

The Valencia didn't say anything. Kane walked down
the fence quietly. The Valencia moved over and held the gate open.
Kane loosened the bunch out of the corner and slowly walked each of
the defectives out of the corral. He looked the herd over again,
making them walk by him on one side and then on the other. He hadn't
missed any unmerchantables. There were twenty-one head of fairly good
cattle left, not the best, but good for the money he was giving.

Cuevas was walking toward him. "Did you trade?"
he asked.

"
Yes," Kane said.

"
The old Valencia came around. He says he wants
to see how much you can give for his cattle. They are in the big
corral. He is waiting there for you," Cuevas said.

Kane turned to look once more over the cliff at the
great chasm below this ineffectual fence full of gentle little cattle
huddled in a corner for common warmth against wind, man, and space
you fall in.

The old Valencia was in a corral full of very old
bulls, oxen, and cows. Though Kane was financing the whole deal,
Cuevas was going to have to market these older cattle. Kane didn't
want them. He had expected Cuevas to trade for these cattle. He
looked around and Cuevas was gone.

The cows were toothless shells. The bulls were all
old and dome-headed and ridge-backed. The oxen had a little flesh on
them but they, too, were old and they would be hard to drive down to
the coast. A bunch of old oxen always gives the most trouble on a
drive by breaking out at night and heading home.

"
How much will you give me for the bulls? I
don't want to sell you anything but the bulls. I'll sell you the
bulls because I need money right now, " the old Valencia said.

"
I don't really want any of them. Cuevas is the
one who buys bulls," said Kane.

"
Give me a price."

"
Cuevas told you seven hundred pesos in the
telegram?

"
Cuevas is crazy."

"
So am I for talking to you but I'll give you
seven hundred for Cuevas."

"
I want eight hundred fifty."

"
How much do you want for the cows now?"

"You can't buy them."

"The 0xen?"

"
There's a buyer coming next week."

"Friend of yours?"

"
Very, very good friend." .

"
You'll undoubtedly make him a rich man."

"
What?"

"
You'd better wait for your friend."

"
I'll take eight hundred twenty-five for the
cows," old Valencia said. "

"
I don't want them, never have wanted them, and
if Cuevas doesn't get here within another five minutes they'll die of
old age."

"G
ive me a price for the oxen," the old
Valencia said.

"
Look, you'd better talk all this over with
Cuevas," Kane said. "You want me to put a price on your
cattle for you, that is, sell them for you to myself. You want me to
drive them three hundred miles to market for you, they're worth
nothing here. You never eat meat yourself. And to finish me off you
want so much money for them you want my profit and for me to pay you
for marketing them besides. You'd better talk to Cuevas, maybe he can
do all that for you."

Cuevas came over to them. He was smiling. Maybe he
thinks it's his duty to keep the peace here, smiling, Kane thought.

"
The gringo came here to steal my cattle,"
the old Valencia said.

"
See if you want the cattle, Cuevas. You will be
handling them," Kane said.

"Go look at the redhead's cattle. You'll be
surprised," Cuevas said.

Kane climbed over the fence into the next corral. The
corral was full of
corriente
steers
three and four years old, in their prime. Their black muzzles shone
moistly. Their great, a dark eyes were flawlessly clear. Their good
horns were so shining clean they looked polished. Their hides were
velvety, the colors sharp in the late, overcast winter afternoon. The
hides were unmarked by the many brands that would have indicated they
were bought cattle. These were the Valencia
criollo
,
the steers that had been chosen from weaning for best care, best
pasture, so that they would someday bring the most money. There were
about 45 or 50 head in the corral, a carload.

So this is what they've been doing, Kane thought. The
tall, thin, suave one sells off the inferior young cattle at the
price agreed upon, the old gruff one tries to force the buyer to take
the old shells. It's a ladder they built to this corral. They made
sure I would know these cattle were going to be impossible to buy
unless Cuevas makes a deal for the old cattle.

The redhead was squatting against the fence across
the corral watching Kane. Now for the mean one, Kane thought. I ain't
going to take those walking harps of the old man unless
you
practically give me these little beauts, mean one. And you don't look
like the one to give me anything today.

The redhead kept looking at the pistol Kane was
carrying. He wanted it. His eyes would move from Kane's pistol to
Kane's chaps. He wanted them, too.

"
How much for these steers?" the redheaded,
mean Valencia asked.

"
You should know how much you want. They're
yours, aren't they?" said Kane.

"These are mine. All these novillones, big
steers, are mine. These will cost you." He looked at Kane's
pistol.

"
How much you think they're worth?" said
Kane.

"
You are going to give me one thousand pesos in
silver. Mexican silver. Gringo money is no good here."

"
Why not?"

"This is Sonora, Mexico."

"
You don't say," Kane said in English.

"
What?"

"I'll give you eight hundred fifty pesos a head
for them," Kane said. "Mexican silver money."

"
Have you seen steers like this anywhere in the
Sierra?" asked the redhead.

"
Here and there at times."

"These are the best you've ever seen in your
life, aren't they?" The redhead looked at Kane's pistol, at
Kane's chaps. Kane said nothing. The son-of-a-bitch wants me to show
greed so it will be more fun not selling to me, he thought. They
bully you, they would like to steal from you, they insult your
intelligence and now they try to put words in your mouth so they can
quote the
gringo
cowbuyer
to the next poor Mexican buyer they expect next week. And the Mexican
will get the cattle cheaper. He'll drive them to Chihuahua City, go
broke on them, and go back to work as a
vaquero
for somebody. But he'll always remember these beautiful
steers and as soon as he gets a new stake he'll be back. Dammit, it's
time to get on my mule and get out of here.

"
You are going to give me one thousand pesos for
these Sehores Novillones, these Mr. Big Steers," the redheaded
Valencia said.

"
No," Kane said. He was thinking of that
tired little mule and having to get on him again.

Cuevas and the old Valencia and the tall Valencia
came over. Cuevas took Kane by the arm and led him aside.

"
¿Qué pasó, what happened?" Cuevas
asked.

"
Nothing. You?"

"
Can you buy the old cattle?"

"
Cuevas, what would I do with that pile of old
bones?"

"
I just wondered. I'm pretty sure they'll sell
the big steers for nine hundred if you'll take the old cattle at
eight hundred."

"Now that is logical as hell, isn't it? The
steers are expensive at eight hundred fifty, which is what I offered.
The old cattle are worth nothing. Why ask me? You are the bone
collector. You buy them."

"
I offered him seven hundred pesos only. That's
what we agreed to pay. "

"
Thanks for reminding me. Now let's get the hell
out of here. It will be eleven o'clock before we get down to Juan's.
We promised him we'd look at his cattle tomorrow."

"
Don't you want to stay here? It's very late.
You want to ride all that way in the dark?"

"
There's a moon," said Kane.

"
A moon for what?" the old Valencia said.

"
We're going on to Juan's," Cuevas said.

"Don't you like the steers?" asked the old
one.

"
They are very good steers," Kane said.

The old Valencia smiled. "Then buy them,"
he said.

"
They're too high for me," said Kane.

"
No old cattle, no good steers. What did you
come here for?" the old man asked.

Kane and Cuevas were silent.

"
Ah!" the tall one said to the old man.
"They didn't buy?"

"
They didn't buy," the old one said, still
smiling.

"
If you didn't trade with them our trade is
off," the tall, suave Valencia said to Kane. He turned and
walked to the gate of the little corral and opened it. He took a
stick and beat the cattle out of the corral.

"
Open the gate," the mean, redheaded
Valencia shouted.

The tall Valencia slid the gate poles out of their
holes in the I gate posts and stood aside. The redhead drove the good
steers out of the corral. The tall Valencia took off his hat and
waved   it at them as they ran, bucking and playing,
through the gate.

The cattle ran along the smooth rock of the top of
the hill and then fled down off the hill out of sight. One fine brown
steer stopped alone on the top and turned to face the man at the
gate. He raised his muzzle curiously to smell the man again.

The tall Valencia stood looking at him. The wind blew
the Valencia's hair across his face, it stirred the downy hair of his
beard. Steer and man regarded each other and then the steer turned.
Release, reprieve, the steer remembered. He jumped and kicked at the
man and fled over the hill after his brothers. There was no longer a
sign of a steer anywhere. It hadn't been five minutes since the gate
had been opened. It would be five days before all the steers could be
gathered and put back in that corral the way they had been.

The old Valencia was laughing. He was no longer gruff
He had shown this
gringo
he
was not a bluffer. Now he could be good-humored about it.
 
"
Navarro will buy them," the old one said.
"Navarro takes them to Chihuahua?