Paloma and the Horse Traders (26 page)

“
Tell me truly, Marco,” she said
finally, when he had settled himself beside her. “Am I a freak of
nature?”

He laughed softly and pulled her close. “No!
You just love me a lot.”

She laughed, too. “I do, you know,” she said,
the words sounding almost shy to him. Her modesty after a wild romp
never ceased to amaze him. Paloma Vega was a lady through and
through, except when she was just a woman. And that was the
magnificent paradox of his wife.

He hoped she wasn’t too tired for what he
thought of as their drowsy time, when problems of the world were
solved, and issues aired and put away in the sleepy fashion of
lovers.

“
I told Lorenzo to leave tomorrow
and return those three horses you were wondering about to the man
in Isleta he stole them from,” he told her, as he stroked her hair.
“You were right.”

“
I wish I hadn’t even looked,” she
said, her fingers tugging gently at his ears. Somehow she had
figured out how much he liked that.

“
It’s worse. That matched team I
bought from Claudio in Taos? Stolen, too.”

He heard her intake of breath. “They’re so
beautiful. But isn’t the bill of sale over there on your clothes
chest?”

“
Forged. Lorenzo told me they were
legal, but I could tell he was lying.”

“
You didn’t call him on his
lie?”

“
How could I do that?” he asked her,
as she rubbed his chest. His sigh sounded enormous in the quiet
room, until he realized she was doing the same thing. “I feel that
I owe the horse traders a bigger debt for sending Claudio to us, no
matter how inadvertent that was. I paid Lorenzo, but I will return
those horses to … to … Señor José Vasquez in Pojoaque
Valley when I take my wool clip and brand records to Santa Fe in a
month or so.” He rested his hand on her belly. “Go ahead and say
it: I’m a gullible idiot, and many pesos poorer.”

Paloma pressed her hand over his. “Push down
gently right there, and you will feel the tiniest little
package.”

He was happy to oblige her and change the
subject. She was right. Just a soft touch and he let go of the
day’s cares. More important business than brands and money was
going on inside his wife.

He thought she slept then. His eyes started to
close, too, but she brought his hand up to rest between her
breasts. She was so soft there. His slim Paloma had been replaced
by a woman with smooth curves, and he liked this one even
better.

“
Claudio isn’t so happy here, is
he?” she asked in a small voice, almost as if she didn’t want to
hear her own words.

“
He told me on the way to Santa
Maria that he doesn’t like living behind walls.”

She sighed again, then raised his fingers to
her lips and kissed them. “When you return, let’s think of ways to
make him happier about Valle del Sol.” She put his hand on her
neck, and Marco knew she was ready for sleep then. “There’s land
here, and maybe he’ll find a lady to court.” She started to say
more, but the day finally caught up with Paloma Vega.

Marco was still in the grip of sleep hours
later. Through the fog of morning, he heard a rooster, and another,
and then a scream so loud and heartbroken that he was out of bed in
one motion. He looked back to apologize to Paloma for scrambling
over her like that, but there was only a pile of blankets where she
should have been.

Another scream, and then wild sobbing, and he
knew without opening the door what had happened. “Damn you,
Claudio,” he whispered as he grabbed his nightshirt and pulled it
over his head.

Paloma lay against the open door to Claudio’s
room, weeping. He knelt beside her and gathered her close, even as
their children began to cry in the other bedchamber, startled from
their sleep. He didn’t need to confirm Claudio’s absence. Whether
three hours, three days, or three years had passed, empty rooms all
felt the same.

He held his sobbing wife close to his
heart.

In
which Marco does his duty, even if King Carlos doesn’t pay him
enough

T
he horse traders had taken
Marco at his word. They were gone before daylight, Claudio with
them, plus the three horses under discussion last night, and the
matched team, as well.

Startled to see his master in a nightshirt with
his hair wild, the night guard stammered out what had happened.
“They … they were as nice as you please, and said you had told
them to leave early, because the days were getting shorter.” His
eyes were wide and worried. “Was that wrong? Forgive me,
señor!”

“
No, no,” Marco replied, stung by
his own words. “I told them exactly that.”

“
Your … your wife? Is
she …. Señor, we could hear her!”

There was no sense in lying. “Her brother left
with them, and she is devastated,” he told the guard.

He told the same thing to Toshua and Eckapeta,
who had come to their door of his former office, Toshua with lance
in hand. “I can bring back Claudio,” Toshua said, his voice hard
and tight.

The last thing Marco wanted was for a Comanche
with murder in his heart to go after a confused man. “We can’t keep
him here against his will,” Marco said. “I must go back to
Paloma.”

Eckapeta touched his arm. “My
grandchildren?”

“
Go to them. Paloma needs me right
now.”

And here I stand in my nightshirt
, Marco
thought, as he hurried back to the hacienda, Eckapeta right behind
him. At least Paloma was still on their bed, where he had left her.
He closed the door and crawled in beside her, holding her close as
she cried and then slept, exhausted.

When he knew she had surrendered to deep sleep,
he got out of bed, dressed and went across the hall to Claudio’s
empty room.
How could you do this to your little sister?
warred with
We both knew you were confused and unhappy
. He
sat on Claudio’s bed. “I was lost and you found me,” he said,
looking across the hall to the bedroom he shared with Claudio’s
sister. He looked down at the rumpled sheets on which he sat,
testimony to a poor soul tossing and turning and unable to find any
peace. “You were lost and no one found you, Claudio. Were we too
late?”

He lay back on Claudio’s bed, his moccasined
feet dangling over the edge, and stared at the ceiling. He could
remain here and let someone else lead this little expedition to
scout out Great Owl. There was certainly plenty to do. The harvest
was nearly over, and the cattle had been rounded up and brought
down from summer pastures. What remained was to decide which ones
to take to the Santa Fe market, along with his wool clip. Governor
de Anza would entertain him and he would turn over his brand
records and taxes he had collected to the
fiscal primero
. At
most, he could devote two weeks to hunting Great Owl, or just
ignore the man and hope for the best.

But there was no one else to take up the
task.

“
Yes, and Great Owl will attack the
Utes closest to us, and perhaps cajole or force them to join him
and come against our settlements,” Marco told the ceiling. “There
goes any chance of peace. Damn, but this is a dilemma.”

He heard the door across the hall open and
turned his head to see Paloma looking at him. He blew her a kiss,
hopeful. She returned his kiss, then looked toward their children’s
room. He knew Graciela and Eckapeta had taken their little ones to
the kitchen for mush and raisins.

She must have known it too, so she just stood
in the doorway in her nightgown and disheveled hair. Her eyes were
red with weeping, but she was the most magnificent woman he had
ever seen.

She padded across the hall on bare feet, closed
the door behind her and climbed onto Claudio’s bed. With a sigh,
she rested her head on his stomach.

“
I wish I understood,” she said
simply.

Marco touched her hair, combing out the tangles
with his fingers. “It is God’s mystery,” he said finally. “There
you were, two young ones who survived a terrible ordeal. You wound
up in Santa Fe in the household of your uncle and were treated
abominably.”

She nodded, then turned sideways so she could
look at him. “Go on,” she whispered.

“
I suspect that Claudio wound up as
practically the possession of Lorenzo and Paco Diaz, men too easy
with the law.”

“
Claudio knew better!” Paloma
protested.

Marco put his hand over her mouth. “Hear me
out, wife,” he said, relieved when she kissed his fingers. “I have
been part of rescues of colony children stolen by Comanches or
Apaches. Even a Ute tribe. They should loathe their captors, eh?
Small children like ours—God forbid—I could understand little ones
transferring their allegiance to Indian parents. But older
children? Children who would have been the age you lost your family
all those years ago? I don’t understand it, but some of them come
to love the very people who stole them.” He sighed. “Maybe someone
much smarter than I am can explain this odd thing someday, but I
have seen it. Claudio identifies with the horse traders now. He
only feels safe with them.”

“
He never gave us a
chance!”

“
He certainly did not.” Marco pulled
Paloma closer until they were breast to breast. “Here is the oddest
part of all: what happened to you could have made you sour and
bitter, but it didn’t. There is something in you that would not
succumb to foul treatment.”

He enveloped his wife in a tight embrace.
“Paloma my heart, I was on my way to turning into Claudio when you
came into my life with that yellow dog. I had given up! All I
wanted was a dog to keep my feet warm. I owe you a debt I can never
repay.”

They clung together until Paloma heaved a
shuddering sigh. “My love, I was only a day away from giving up,
too, and just returning to Santa Fe and my relatives. Adventures
aren’t all that fun, are they?”

They laughed together.

“
What … what made the
difference?”

She thought a long moment, rubbing her cheek
against his chest. “Something inside I cannot explain. Why doesn’t
Claudio feel as I do? We were reared by the same
parents.”

Marco raised himself up on one elbow to see her
better. “Was Claudio happy?”

“
Well, certainly,” she began, then
stopped. She flopped on her back and stared at the same ceiling
that had given Marco no answers earlier. “No, no, he wasn’t. I’ve
tried so hard
not
to remember that morning, but another
piece is coming back.”

“
Let it.”

She touched his heart then by putting his hand
on her belly, as though to protect their child within from what she
was remembering. He knew it was an unconscious gesture, but it told
him everything he ever needed to know about Paloma as a mother, and
if he wanted to flatter himself, her idea of him as a
father.

“
He and Papa had been arguing for
some time. Claudio was sixteen and desperate to join the army. Papa
said no, of course. Papa always said, why would you do that when
there was this hacienda and land grant? I didn’t like it when they
quarreled.”

Her voice sounded small, like a child’s. She
hesitated, as if resisting another memory.

“
Go on, Paloma, tell me,” he
whispered. “I’m keeping our baby safe.”

“
The last thing I remember him
saying to Papa … oh, I can’t.”

“
You can. You’re safe,
too.”

“
How could I forget this? Claudio
said, ‘There are times I wish you were dead, Papa.’ ” She
shuddered. “Papa just laughed. He knew Claudio was joking. I
remember that Papa put his hand on Claudio’s head and gave his hair
a friendly little tug, and Claudio put his arm around Papa. All
forgiven.”

“
And then?”

“
They all died.” She sucked in her
breath, and he pressed more firmly on her belly. “Marco, do you
think Claudio keeps remembering that argument?”

“
I think it highly likely. Imagine
that much guilt.”

They were silent then, twined in each
other.

“
I know he was happy to find me,”
Paloma said.

“
Of course he was, but there is this
war going on inside your brother.”

“
Do you think he will ever
return?”

“
I am certain he will, Paloma,”
Marco said, and meant every word. “He’ll show up when he feels like
it, visit a while, but then he’ll leave again.”

Paloma gave him a long look. “Unless he can
find a reason to remain, my love.”

She slept again, but peacefully now. Marco
stayed with her.

Paloma woke up to the noisy rumble of a
stomach—hers. Marco was snoring softly in her ear, just tickling it
enough to wake her up, if her stomach hadn’t.

“
I am hungry,” she whispered into
that ear.

He opened his eyes. “Come to think of it, so am
I. We haven’t slept this late since we were newly
married.”

She sat up, hands flying to her hair, which by
this hour was usually smooth in a low bun on the back of her neck.
She looked down at bare legs up to her thighs, hoping that no one
had decided to blunder into Claudio’s room and see her in such
disarray.