Paloma and the Horse Traders (21 page)

“
Put that way, you make it simple,”
she told him, but with reluctance. She threw up her hands. “I know!
I know! You are only going to Santa Maria, so why am I behaving
this way?” She put her hands on her hips. “When did I turn into a
problem?”

“
Probably the morning after we
started this baby,” he said with a grin, then put up his hands and
laughed harder when she slapped his head. In another moment she was
laughing, too.

In
which Paloma soothes and Marco insists

I
t pained Paloma’s heart to
watch them ride away, even if it was only to Santa Maria. She
smiled and waved at her husband, brother, and Toshua only because
Claudito was in her arms and if she cried, he would start to wail,
and then Soledad would join in. She remembered how gentle and
dignified her mother was, the perfect Spanish lady, and wondered if
she would ever approach such perfection. She felt cross and hot,
wanted to throw up, and her breasts were so tender.

There was Graciela to consider. In the
excitement of Claudio’s return, Paloma knew she had neglected to
acquaint the slave with her role in the greater scheme of life on
the Double Cross. What better time than now, with the servants busy
about their tasks. The day was warm enough for her little ones to
splash in the
acequia
, after Emilio dammed it to allow water
onto the crops beyond the walls. What remained flowing into the
courtyard would safely entertain them for hours.

The matter was quickly accomplished. “I had
been planning to water the peppers one final time this very
morning,” Emilio said. “Let them play.”

Paloma smiled at Claudito’s eagerness to
discard his clothes and leap into the shallow irrigation ditch.
“You are so much like your father,” she said, as she tossed in
wooden boats. She helped Soledad from her clothes and took the more
cautious child by the hand, raising her own skirts and settling her
into the cool water. In a few minutes, she was splashing Claudito
and chortling about it.

The water did feel good. Paloma tucked up her
skirts and sat on the brow of the ditch, letting her bare legs
dangle in the water. She motioned to Graciela. “Sit with
me.”

The slave did as she was bid. What else could
she do? Paloma thought a long while before speaking. She had grown
used to her role as wife of the
hacendado
, but her years of
near-servitude would never allow her to injure anyone with either
words or blows. There was no need to mince words with a slave, but
she did, anyway.

“
Graciela, I value your help,” she
began. “Marco teases me about never asking for anything, but
believe me, I did ask him to find me help with the children, when
he went to Taos. True, we have servants, but they already have
other tasks.”

“
Señor Mondragón surely did not know
what a high price he would have to pay,” Graciela said, and Paloma
heard her remorse. “I will never be out of his debt.”

“
He did what had to be
done.”

“
No one else came forward,” Graciela
told Paloma. “To see those people staring at me, and to know in my
heart that I would be the next to die ….” She shuddered,
unable to continue.

“
This is why I thank God every night
for the goodness of the man I married,” Paloma said, blushing
because she was raised to be circumspect, especially around
servants. “He gave all because he was not about to take a chance
that it would not be enough.” She laughed. “Between you and me,
this is the same man who paid an entire peso for that little yellow
dog over there.”

Graciela gasped in surprise. “Surely
not!”

As the children splashed each other and
squealed over water bugs, Paloma told Graciela her own story,
including the part about the meddling priests of San Gabriel making
sure that the dog was let loose, which meant that she would have to
return it to the rightful owner.

“
Those two priests plotted and
planned that I would do exactly what I did—start to walk to Valle
del Sol from that place where Rio Chama meets Rio Bravo,” Paloma
said. “I was already in love with that man with the light brown
eyes. I’ll admit it now.” She touched Graciela’s shoulder, saddened
as the slave flinched. “Here, in this place, we help each
other.”

Graciela sighed and looked away.

“
Until you do believe it, let us do
this: tonight, you may take as many tortillas as you like to
bed.”

Graciela began to weep, which made the children
look up in surprise. Paloma put her finger to her lips, and they
returned to their play.

“
I … I can’t help myself,” the
slave whispered.

“
I did the same thing in the house
of my uncle, when I was sent there at the age of eleven after my
parents died,” Paloma said. “I was beaten for thievery. We don’t do
that here. Take as many tortillas as will make you feel
safe.”

“
No one will mind?”

“
Not a single person.”

* * *

Marco knew he would never dare tell Paloma how
happy Claudio looked to be in the saddle again. The smile started
on his face as soon as the gates of the Double Cross closed behind
them.

“
If it’s too much for your shoulder
just yet, you can turn back.”

“
No, no, I am fine,” Claudio assured
him. “Paloma would never understand how nice it feels to be out
from behind walls.”

“
No, she would not,” Marco said,
amused. He grew serious quickly. “There was a time when your sister
was adventurous, but not with babies now. And that’s the way I want
it, too. We have far more at stake.”

“
I do understand,” Claudio said. “I
thought maybe someday I would find some land and a wife, but the
longer I lived the horse trader life, the less I considered
it.”

“
Do you intend to go with the horse
traders?” Marco asked, wondering just how Paloma would manage news
like that.
Please tell me no
, he thought.

“
I wish I knew,” Claudio replied.
His expressive face, so like Paloma’s, showed his amazement at the
events of the past few days. “I was just going to follow you here,
get the money and rejoin my
compadres
. Now I have a sister
again, and apparently the Comanches want to kill me.”

“
Are you so certain?” Toshua said
from Marco’s other side. “If they had wanted to kill you, they
would have.”

“
I have wondered about that myself,”
Claudio said. “Was Graciela the intended target?” he joked, and
Marco laughed.

Toshua rode ahead. When Claudio believed
himself far enough away, he said, “Marco, I do not feel easy with
that man.”

“
Neither did your sister at first.
Nor I, to be sure.”

“
Then why—”

“
Is he part of our life now? As
Toshua saw it, Paloma kept saving his life, and he felt obligated,
as a man of honor would.” Marco shrugged. “He became our friend,
and so did his wife.”

“
I’ll never trust him.”

“
Never is a long time, Claudio. You
also never thought you would see your sister again, did
you?”

At least Claudio had the good grace to laugh at
himself. “Let us leave it there for now.”

To Marco, Santa Maria looked much the same, a
weary little outpost of brave people who deserved better than to be
guarded by nincompoops. He noticed some burned outbuildings, much
as he and Toshua had seen at the Calderón hacienda. The fire had
taken a small grain field, too, damage so minimal that Marco
wondered what game Great Owl was playing. He remembered Comanche
raids from his childhood, ones that gave him nightmares. This was
small pickings, indeed.

The great gates of the garrison were open, with
two guards looking more curious than alert.
We have been lulled
into complacency
, Marco thought.

He asked that they be taken to Sergeant Lopez,
and the guard wasted not a minute, mainly because Marco already
knew everyone was terrified of Toshua. He glanced at the Comanche,
who sat tall and glared at the soldiers who were casually trying to
flatten themselves against walls and disappear through
doorways.

“
You could look a little less
frightening,” he told his friend.

“
This is not my frightening look,”
Toshua replied.

“
Have I ever seen that look?” Marco
joked.

“
No. The only ones who will ever see
that look will be those who attempt to harm Paloma or your
children.”

Marco took a deep breath, grateful down to his
stockings that Toshua was his friend. “If someone tries to harm
me
?”

“
You can take care of yourself,
Little Brother,” Toshua told him.

I may have just received the greatest
compliment of my life
, Marco thought, suddenly humbled to the
dust. “Thank you, my friend.”

Claudio appeared to recognize the private who
ushered them to Sergeant Lopez’s office.

“
Do you know him?” Marco asked as
they walked down the portal to a room Marco had visited many times.
In earlier years, there was a lieutenant to serve the garrison, but
not in recent memory.

“
Yes. He was the only
soldado
who showed any initiative when my
compadres
and I were set
upon by Great Owl.”

“
I don’t think he recognizes
you.”

“
How could he?” Claudio asked. “I
look less like a tumbleweed and more like a Spanish gentleman
now.”

“
More Spanish than I, certainly,”
Marco replied.

Sergeant Lopez surprised Marco by his sobriety.
He sat behind his desk, a shrunken man with bags under his eyes and
his nose deeply veined, testimony to too much drinking. Marco
wondered at the state of his liver, and saw illness now, not
drunkenness.

He rose unsteadily when Marco entered the room,
and somehow managed a short bow without toppling over. Marco
reached across the desk to steady him. “You need a doctor,” he
said.

“
Where would I find one, señor?” the
sergeant asked. “Here we are on the ragged edge of our sovereign’s
domain. Do sit down.” He leaned closer, his eyes on Toshua. “Does
he need to be here?”

Marco tried not to smile. “You could ask him to
leave, Sergeant.”

“
Oh, no, no.” The sergeant’s pale
face reddened. “He’ll be fine. And señor, you are—”

“
This is Señor Claudio Vega, my
wife’s brother,” Marco said. “You might remember him as Diego Diaz,
who came to your attention a few weeks ago after that skirmish with
the Comanches.”

“
I don’t recall ….” The
sergeant looked away. “I … may have been ill.”

Marco heard a sound behind him like someone
turning a laugh into a cough. He looked and there stood the
soldado
who had shown them into the sergeant’s office, at
attention by the door. To Marco’s further amusement, he gave the
juez
a slow wink.

“
I’m certain that was it,” Marco
said smoothly. “Perhaps that was why no one from this garrison made
any effort to visit my hacienda to see how my wife and children
were, when you knew I was in Taos. And why you didn’t visit the
Calderón hacienda when Comanches burned some of the outbuildings. I
certainly hope for the sake of this district that you feel better
soon.”

The sergeant passed his hand in front of his
eyes. “Señor, I have fifteen men in this garrison, where there used
to be thirty.”

Marco remained silent, watching the sergeant
shrink even smaller. The man ran his hand around his dirty neck
cloth, eyes darting here and there as if searching for an answer in
a corner of the untidy room.

“
The Comanches are gone now, and
nothing much of consequence happened,” the sergeant said at
last.

“
I am grateful,” Marco said, “but I
can’t help but think that Great Owl was curious to know what
you
would do, if he attacked with any warriors. Obviously he
has his answer by now. What will you do when—I do not say if—he
returns to Valle del Sol with more warriors?”

“
You promised us that Kwihnai would
keep us safe,” the sergeant whined.

“
I promised you that
Kwihnai
would not attack us, and he has not,” Marco snapped. “Great Owl
needs to be rooted out and destroyed before he can turn more
warriors to his path. I need men from this garrison to
help.”

Another silence, one longer than the first,
told Marco everything else he needed to know. He stood up, put his
hands on the desk, and leaned across it, which made the sergeant
lean back until he was in danger of toppling from his
chair.

“
Will you give me
anyone
to
help?”

“
I dare not,” Sergeant Lopez
whispered.

“
I will go with you.”

Marco turned around to see the
soldado
looking at him, his gaze level and in no way subservient. “You? One
soldier?”

“
Sí
, Señor Mondragón,” he
replied quietly, but with a certain flair that did not hint of
subservience. “If I may say, this looks like one of those campaigns
that either needs hundreds of troops, or maybe four or
five.”