Paloma and the Horse Traders (29 page)

What is the matter with some people?
Paloma asked herself, then took several deep breaths for control,
when she really wanted to bean Lorenzo with a cooking
pot.

The other side of that tarnished coin struck
her. “But you’re willing to help Marco?” she asked.
“Truly?”

He still had hold of her hand, and he gave it
another squeeze. “Señora, you have been kind to us. We leave in the
morning.” He glared at Claudio. “But
not
with that
one.”

Claudio said nothing. He closed his eyes and
leaned forward until his cheek rested against the table. “Paloma,
forgive me.”

“
Forgiven,” she said. “You as well,
Lorenzo, even if you are a scoundrel. Go to your rooms
now.”

“
Me?” he asked, all innocence. “I am
a businessman. Nothing more.”

“
Then may all the saints protect us
here in Nuevo Mexico,” Paloma replied. She inclined her head toward
the rascal, wondering just when it was that life and its lessons
had changed from black and white to gray. “You are going to help my
husband, and for that I forgive thousands of sins.”

“
We’ll leave early,” Lorenzo assured
her. “Before breakfast, even. I want to get to the shelter of the
foothills.”

“
No one leaves here without
breakfast,” Sancha said.

Paloma stared at her quiet housekeeper, seeing
her for the first time as just a woman, and not the faithful
servant who had followed young Felicia to the Double Cross when she
married Marco, young then, himself.
I do not even know how old
you are
, she thought,
or if you had a dream or two of your
own
.

“
You are so kind, Sancha, and I am
grateful,” she said, pleased to see her face light up at such small
praise. “I am not at my best in the early morning, these
days.”

Lorenzo released her hand, and turned his
attention to Sancha. “We’ll be ready.” With a slight,
self-conscious bow to Paloma, the two rascals left the
kitchen.

Paloma patted Claudio’s shoulder. “Come now,
Brother. Whatever you have to say can wait until morning. I am
tired, even if no one else is.”

“
I am more tired than you know,” he
told her, getting up.

“
I have some idea,” she said
gently.

She walked arm in arm with him down the hall,
stopped at the door and kissed his cheek. “Go to bed. We’ll talk
in ….”

He took Paloma’s arm and pulled her into the
room, closing the door behind them. She suddenly wished for
Eckapeta’s watchful presence, then reminded herself that this was
her brother.

“
What, Claudio?”

“
Has Graciela said anything to you
about what happened when the Comanches shot me?”

Paloma shook her head. “She is efficient in her
duties, and the children love her, but she says little.”

“
Nothing?” He gave her arm a
shake.

“
No.” Paloma pulled her arm away.
“No, but several times she has looked at me as though she wanted to
say something. What is this?”

He sat on the bed. “As I was trailing the
horses toward my
compadres
, alone and with time to think, I
became more and more certain that after I was shot, Graciela said
something like, ‘That was meant for me.’ At least, she might have
said that.” He rubbed his shoulder.

“
Why in the world would she imagine
that the devils who had just sold her would shoot her?” Paloma
said, with a slow shake of her head. “You must be
mistaken.”

“
I’m not convinced, but I’m too
tired to reason through the matter,” Claudio said.

“
Don’t worry.” Paloma kissed his
forehead. “I meant what I said,
hermano
. Come or go, as you
will, but don’t sneak away.”

* * *

His stomach full, his conscience bruised but
not battered, Claudio Vega slept well, waking hours later to
sunshine in his room and the sweet fragrance of sage bundles drying
outside his window. He tried to put both hands behind his head, but
his wounded shoulder wasn’t cooperating yet. Never mind; one arm
was good enough.

He sank a little deeper into the pillow, trying
to remember when he had felt this relaxed. The feeling was
different from the relaxation induced by grinding on one whore or
another. He tried to analyze the sensation, but nothing in recent
memory came to mind.

He did something he usually tried not to do,
and let his mind drift back to those days on the Vega ranch, before
his world erupted in blood and fire. He had shared a room with his
younger brother Rafael, who liked to talk. Because Claudio never
considered the early morning a good time for conversation, he
started waking up early before Rafael, just for the
solitude.

He remembered mourning doves, and the
occasional owl. Mama and Papa might be talking softly in their room
next to his. He had time to spare, time to think, time to make
plans for his future, which he had hoped would include the army,
even though Papa was opposed to it. He wanted to see more than the
ranch, more than El Paso. Mexico City was four months away. San
Antonio was closer, but directly through Comanche country, as well
as the domain of the Apache, and the cannibal Tonkawas.

Anything had been possible, early in those long
ago mornings, before everything changed. Still, he could not deny a
pleasing and wholly unexpected return of optimism. He lay on a
comfortable bed in his sister’s house, with the fragrance of sage
close by, and the inevitable
piñon
odor from the kitchen
fireplace. A man could probably travel the world and know New
Mexico just by the smell.

He looked around the little room, with its
colorful Pueblo rugs on the floor, walls of deep blue halfway up,
and then white to the ceiling. There was a crucifix nailed to the
wall at the head of his bed, and a clothes press, ornately carved
and probably from Spain. Everywhere he looked he saw order and
cleanliness. He let the peace of it sink into his dusty heart and
closed his eyes again.

When he woke again, the sun was much higher in
the sky. He heard Paloma talking to her children across the hall,
and laughing. His sister was happy, content, and the wife of a good
man. The determined child who possessed a deep well of courage
perhaps greater than his own had kept herself alive through a
massacre, followed by a famine of food and love from selfish
relatives, to blossom now as a cherished wife and loving mother. If
Claudio were a smaller-minded man, he could have resented her good
fortune. Now it made him smile.

He dressed quickly and followed his sister and
the children down the hall toward the kitchen, moving quietly
behind them because he wanted to enjoy looking at these relatives
he never thought to see again, or meet. He wondered if Paloma had
any idea how much she resembled their mother, who was taller but as
graceful as her only daughter.

Paloma turned around at the kitchen door and
motioned him toward her. “I hope you are hungry,” she said. “Sancha
made an enormous breakfast for Lorenzo and Rogelio, and there are
eggs and sausage for us, too. Perla is baking more bread now and it
will be ready soon.”

His mouth began to water at just the idea of
hot bread. He knew there would be butter and honey on the table. He
could make a little bowl shape in the soft bread to fill with
butter and honey, then fold it over and enjoy the goodness. A man
could grow to like this.

He sat next to Soledad, and nearly dropped the
cup of hot chocolate that Paloma handed him when the child gave him
a swift kick under the table. Eyes narrowed to slits, she put her
face close to his. “That’s because you made Mama cry when you went
away.”

Amused more than injured, he glanced at Paloma,
whose mouth had opened in astonishment. Her eyes narrowed then, and
she picked up Soledad and carried her into the hall, where Claudio
heard a series of spanks, and a wail that diminished in volume as
its owner retreated to her bedchamber, probably ordered there by
Mama Mondragón.

Little Claudio, seated on his other side, shook
his head. “
I
missed you,” he said, leaning against Claudio’s
arm. “Mama missed you.”

Claudio put a comforting arm around his little
namesake, who cuddled close. “Do you think your papa missed
me?”

Claudito considered the question. “Maybe not so
much,” he said, which made Claudio laugh.

“
My daughter,” Paloma said, her face
red, as she came into the kitchen again. “I think it will be a
while before she becomes a lady.”

“
You have a staunch defender,
Paloma,” he said. “My shin will probably heal.”

“
Oh, you!” she teased in turn. “I
told her to stay in her room until she is penitent. It might be a
long day, because she is stubborn.”

By now her small son sat on Claudio’s lap.
“Don’t be sad,” he said, hoping to make the child smile, because he
had suddenly turned serious. Claudio whispered teasingly in his
ear, “Did the chickens and goats miss me? The bees in the
hives?”

Claudito giggled. “No!” He seemed to give the
matter real thought. “I think Graciela did. She has been crying and
crying each night.”

Paloma sat beside her son. “Claudito? Why
didn’t you say something?”

His shrugged, the complexity of the situation
beyond his years. “You were too sad to bother.”

“
I am never too sad or too busy for
you, my son,” Paloma said firmly. “She cries every
night?”

The child nodded. Claudio looked at Paloma over
his head. “Finish your breakfast, Claudio,” she said. “I will find
Graciela.”

He looked down at the half-eaten sausage
remaining, and the one egg slowly hardening, his appetite gone.
“Stay here with your son,” he said. “This has gone beyond mere
curiosity.”

In
which Claudio looks deep inside

C
laudio thought Graciela
might still be in her little alcove in the children’s room, so he
made that his first stop.

Soledad had flopped back on her bed, arms and
legs wide apart, staring at the ceiling. Her eyes filled with tears
when he came into the room.

“
I am truly penitent,” she whispered
to him as she sat up, brushing down her skirt and crossing her legs
at the ankles, a nicety Paloma had undoubtedly taught
her.

He struggled not to smile and managed to keep
his face neutral. “Soli, I shouldn’t have left the way I did. It
was bad-mannered of me.”

“
Aha! I was right!” Her momentary
triumph faded as she looked at him. “But I shouldn’t have kicked
you. Mama says you are having a hard time, and I should be
kind.”

Her sincerity touched Claudio’s heart. He
remembered another little girl, unhappy because she could not keep
up with her brothers, who had dumped their clothes in the
acequia
. The punishment had been an hour on her knees in the
chapel, praying for Santa Maria to forgive her sins, followed by
another hour by the laundry tub, washing their muddy clothes. If
anything, Paloma had a softer heart than Mama, he told himself, and
then chuckled. Of course, Mama had two rascals for sons who didn’t
mind teasing their little sister.

He put his arm around Soledad. “I will pledge
to behave myself, as long as you will, too.”

Soledad nodded. “We could make a vow,” she
said.

“
It will be enough if you kiss my
cheek and I kiss yours,” he told her.

She kissed his cheek. “I’m sorry.”

His heart full, he kissed her cheek. “I promise
not to make your mama cry again.”

“
Mama said I should make a good
curtsy to you,” Soledad said. “I have been practicing, because Mama
says every girl needs to know how to impress men.”

The innocence of her answer, and what it told
him about his sister made Claudio smile. He wondered if he should
warn Marco that Paloma was highly skilled in the management of men,
and decided against it. Marco probably knew exactly what he had
gotten himself into by marrying Paloma Vega. “That would be nice,”
he told her.

Soledad stood by her bed and held out her
skirts. Her curtsy wobbled, and a frown of great concentration drew
her eyebrows together, but she dipped and rose, then clapped her
hands.

He rose and bowed to her, remembering long-ago
lessons and better times. “There now. We are both penitent, and I
require your help to find Graciela.”

“
Does she need to curtsy to you,
too?” Soledad asked as he opened the door and ushered her out of
misbehavior jail.

She might
, he thought. “I just want to
talk to her.”

Soledad took his hand in the hall and he found
himself being towed toward the kitchen, where Paloma was just
wiping off Claudito’s face, over protests.

“
Don’t struggle,
mi primo
,”
Claudio said. “Your mama is wise beyond her years.” He gave Soledad
a little push forward. “Soledad and I have reached an agreement.
She gave me quite a curtsy, Sister.”

“
You are sincere in your apology?”
Paloma asked, kneeling in front of her daughter and looking her in
the eye, which Claudio thought was a wise touch.