Marco and the Devil's Bargain (26 page)

He promptly did as she asked, reminded again of his older sister and her admonitions. He nodded, after a sip of something that tasted faintly of meat; he wasn't about to ask what kind. Eckapeta dipped another serving into a second bowl and held it out. “Tell your woman to sit up.”

Marco shook his head. “Alas, I know she will not, because she is modest and shy and also naked.”

“
No matter how hungry she is?” the woman asked, more curious than irritated.

“
No matter. Tell me, is that
camisa
she took off last, right before her bare skin … is that dry now? If you can find that, I might be able to coax her out of the robes.”

Eckapeta set down the bowl and went to the far side of the tipi, where she must already have folded their dry clothing; he admired the neat piles. Taking out the
camisa
, she handed it to him. “Tell her not to be so shy. We have all seen breasts, and hers are probably no different.”

Paloma was listening, of course, her face fiery. “Marco, I cannot,” she whispered.

“
Oh, you can,” he told her quite firmly, almost in his
juez de campo
voice, but not quite. “This is their world, my dove, and we are guests.”

Paloma watched him, still so serious. “Do you know what I learned last night, as the Apaches began dropping down onto the ledge?”

Marco shuddered inside to hear such words from his wife. “Tell me, please.”

She looked at him, then at the woman, who was regarding them both with interest. “Exactly what you said. It
is
their world, but I might need reminding.”

“
I might, too.”

She took a deep breath and sat up, instinctively crossing her hands over her breasts at first. She took another deep breath and put them by her sides. He thought he sensed a little pride, because she did have nice breasts. She took her
camisa
from him, raising her arms high to drop it over her head. She wriggled the
camisa
down over her hips, still covered by the robe—after all, she was Paloma and could not discard all modesty—then held out her hand for the bowl. She drank deep, even as he had, asking no questions.

She endeared herself to him forever by sitting there, practically naked by her own standards, but with her hands clasped in front of her on the buffalo robe, still a Spanish lady.

Eckapeta watched her, then leaned across him and pointed to her shoulders, not quite touching her. “I have never seen such things before,” she said. “What are they?”

Paloma looked where the woman pointed. “Do you mean my
pecas
?”

Eckapeta repeated the word. “Do you have these little brown things all over you?”

Paloma blushed again. “Mostly just on my shoulders.”

“
Mostly,” Marco teased, which made Paloma nudge him. The woman smiled and turned back to the fire.

“
You can stop right now,” Paloma whispered to him. “What must she be thinking of us?”

He was spared from any answer that would probably not have satisfied Paloma when the tipi flap opened and Toshua came inside. With a shock, the
juez
saw someone else now. Toshua had discarded the woolen pants and wool shirt he wore at the Double Cross. From his high winter boots, to his breechcloth, to the deerskin shirt and trade blanket around it all, he was what he had always been, a Comanche warrior.

Paloma swallowed audibly and clutched Marco's hand under the cover of the buffalo robe. All he could do was run his fingers across her knuckles and twine their hands together.

Toshua squatted by them in that easy way of his. “Our little doctor is complaining again.”

Paloma had pressed herself close to him, and Marco felt her shoulders lose their tense lift at Toshua's words. “Please ask your, um, friends to humor him a little. Think of the good he can do,” she said, her voice perfectly normal. The page that had turned in Marco's book of life a few minutes ago must have turned in hers, too.

Toshua nodded and stooped slightly to crouch his way out of the tipi.

“
One more thing, my brother. Please tell us what is going on here.” Paloma said.

“
It is not a good thing.” He opened the flap. “When I return with the little doctor, I will say more. Come with me,
tami
.”

“
When in Rome ….” Marco threw back the buffalo robes that protected him, too. Naked, he walked with all the dignity he could muster to the folded pile of clothing, wishing that Eckapeta wasn't watching him so closely. Trying not to hurry, even though his face flamed, he pulled on his smallclothes, and then his breeches, wool shirt, stockings, and boots. When he finished, he beat a retreat for the tipi flap, but not before he heard Eckapeta say to his wife, “Your man has a lot between his legs.”

He sighed, embarrassed beyond belief and certain he would never enter that tipi again, especially when he heard Paloma's low laugh. Toshua watched him with a lurking smile.

“
My old woman will tell the other women and you will be much in demand.”

Marco stopped and put both hands on Toshua's shoulders, something he had never done before. The Comanche started in surprise.

“
Pabi
, let us come to a right understanding here: I will not meet any woman's demands except Paloma's, and she will satisfy no man but me. I know what you suggest is the Comanche way, but it is not the Spanish way. On this, I am unyielding.”

After only a brief staring match, Toshua nodded and Marco released him, wondering if he had committed some grave sin against a warrior by touching him that way. So be it. Toshua merely shrugged and gestured toward a tipi.

Marco looked around as they walked, and what he saw distressed him: few tipis, no dogs, a mere handful of warriors, and more children than mothers, apparently. No one looked well-fed. If exhaustion was something that could be put in a jug and sold, this village could supply all of Texas, he was certain. Granted, it was winter, and a lean time for everyone, but there was something more sinister here. He sighed to see what might have been a mound of burned tipis, some with the lodge poles sticking out like bones. He thought of the frozen dead outside their fire circle on the Staked Plain, and he wondered.

As they approached the smaller tipi, the flap flew open and Antonio Gil came out, his face a study in discomfort. Marco found himself wondering about this magic place called Georgia that
el médico
liked to talk about whenever things were not at their best, either on the plain, on the Double Cross, or apparently here. Even as he pasted a pleasant expression on his face, Marco decided that some people should only stay at home, where evidently things were perfect.

He held up his hand as the doctor stamped toward him. “One moment, little man. I do not care how aggrieved you are. Look around you. We are completely outnumbered and there are surely some here who would like to peel your skin from your body in little tiny strips. Granted, many are in a weakened state, but that is not so much a problem with Comanches.”

Antonio stopped, suddenly fearful, and looked around. He said nothing, which Marco considered one of the great blessings of the day, and one achieved so early. He knew such compliance could not last, but he was going to savor it as long as possible. Marco put his hand on the doctor's shoulder and gave him a shake.

“
I want you to look around you and see the suffering. Ask yourself if there is anything you can do.”

Antonio surprised him. “I have already looked around. I confess that I do not even know where to begin.” His eyes filled with tears. “How have they managed to come this far?”

“
They are Comanches. That's all the explanation I have,” Marco said, hearing something in Antonio Gil's tone of voice that gave him some hope. “Begin with the children. If they have sores, find something in your medical bag, some salve. It may do no good at all,” Marco said, drawing close so Toshua could not hear him. “Let them know you care.”

“
Nothing is that simple,” Antonio argued.

“
Try it. That little fellow over there.”

Marco turned away to follow Toshua. He looked back and smiled to see Antonio pick up a little boy who wandered aimlessly, wearing only a deerskin shirt to his knees and moccasins that had maybe seen better days a century ago.
Well, well
, he thought, as the doctor removed the trade blanket around his shoulders and wrapped up the child, before setting him on his feet again.

After checking the horses—it relieved Marco's heart to see a small stream flowing by the village—he took a sack of pemmican that had been plopped with their other possessions under a tree, surprised that no one had stolen it.

“
Pick up the other one,” he called to Antonio, who looked around, a frown on his face. “These people are hungry. Tomorrow I will go hunting with Toshua.”

The doctor did as asked with no objection—another blessing—and trailed after them as they returned to the tipi.

Eckapeta had left the tipi, but Paloma was there, dressed now and her hair brushed and pulled back with a simple rawhide tie. She made a face to see the pemmican, but did not hesitate to take one of the misshapen balls of meat and grease when Marco handed it to her.

“
No one is eating much here,” she said to him as she stared at the pemmican, as though wishing it would transform itself into posole or tortillas. “The People are hungry because it is winter and many warriors are dead from
la viruela
. And the old ones ….”

“
I know. When Eckapeta returns, will you help her distribute both sacks to the other tipis?”

“
It won't be enough, but yes.”

“
I'll go hunting tomorrow.” He looked at Toshua, who nodded. “
We'll
go hunting.”

In that way of women, Paloma seemed to have claimed one half of the tipi. The buffalo robes were stacked in a neat pile. She had even hung her Rosary on a little notch in a tipi pole. She gestured to them to sit down, much as if they were guests in her kitchen on the Double Cross, or even in the more exalted
sala
. It touched his heart when she sat next to Toshua and leaned her head for the briefest moment against his arm.

“
I know there is much to do, brother, but please tell us: how is it that you and Eckapeta ….” She let the sentence trail away, because she was not a prying woman.

Toshua eyed the tipi entrance, obviously wanting to finish his explanation before Eckapeta returned. “You already know how my women threw me over for a younger man. It happens sometimes, but I did not think it would happen to me.”

Paloma nodded. Her hand was on his arm now.

He looked at Marco, apology in his eyes. “Forgive me, señor, but that second wife of mine—the Spanish one I stole from the rancher—what a horrible woman! She bullied my youngest wife, the pretty one with not a brain in her head. True, I had loaned them to the man because he was my friend.”

Paloma stared open-mouthed at Toshua.

“
It's a Comanche custom,” Marco whispered.

“
Maybe he
was
better.” Toshua shrugged. “I cannot say my wives' foul names because they died there in the cold before our campfire on the plains. Eckapeta told me last night after we fought the Apaches that the other wives forced her to follow along with their scheme to dishonor me and throw me out.”

Antonio folded his arms across his chest, skepticism writ large. “You believe that?”

“
I do,” Toshua said, after giving the doctor such a withering look that the little man seemed to grow even smaller. “When she comes back, look at her hand. Those evil women cut off two of her fingers and said they were ready to do worse if she objected. They told their tale and threw me out. You know the rest.”

“
You have forgiven this woman, who did you such wrong?” Antonio asked.

“
She is my old woman and I feel better when she is near me,” the Comanche said simply. He looked at Paloma. “My little sister, you have shown forgiveness to your cousin that I would still like to murder.” His glance shifted to Antonio. “I did not know forgiveness until my little sister showed me.” He patted the doctor as though he were a child. “You'll learn.”

They were all silent then and Marco looked around.
We must act
, he thought. “How do we begin?” he asked finally.

Paloma stood up and gave him her kindest look, the one that always preceded some assignment for him. Felicia used to do the same thing. He waited, thankful for someone else to take charge, even if that didn't make him impressive in his own eyes.

“
Dearest heart, you and Toshua need to go hunting
today
, not tomorrow. Eckapeta and I will hand out this pemmican. When you return with a deer or two, we will eat and talk about this.”

“
What am I to do?” Antonio asked.

“
You will save these people,” Paloma said simply.

Apparently Antonio was going to be a slow student. “This is just a small encampment. I am looking for the large gathering, somewhere in this canyon. They will have Pia Maria. We could ride out today.”

Do you learn nothing?
Marco asked himself. A sidelong glance at Toshua's narrowed eyes suggested that his friend,
pabi,
and totally necessary ally was having second thoughts about this entire expedition. Marco didn't dare look at Paloma for her reaction.