Paloma and the Horse Traders (37 page)

“
No, I don’t,” Marco said. “Spain is
fading in this land I love so well. But face this fact: so is
France.” He pointed to David Benedict. “
This
is the real
threat. However, I am a Christian man, and cannot deal out justice
so readily.”

In
which Joaquim Gasca finally uses the education his parents probably
paid for

W
hen Toshua returned, he laid
a hand on Marco’s shoulder. “The two Frenchmen are dead,” he said
simply.

When Marco opened his mouth to protest, Toshua
added, “I knew you did not have the heart for it, but it had to be
done. I did not want you to return to Paloma with their blood on
your hands. For me, I don’t mind.”

“
You didn’t torture them?” Marco
asked.

“
No,” Toshua said. “I did as you
would do. Chaa! Am I becoming a Spanish man? They died
quickly.”

“
Now what will we do?” Joaquim
asked.

“
Patience, my friend,” Marco told
him. “Graciela, in all of this, I never asked why you are here, and
even you, Claudio.” He peered closer at his brother-in-law. “I had
not thought to see you anytime soon.”

“
I brought him back to Paloma with a
noose around his neck,” Lorenzo growled, sounding remarkably like
an injured parent. “Some people don’t know when they are well
off.”

“
You, Graciela?” Marco asked, not
wanting to laugh at the stubborn look on Claudio’s face. She
swallowed and he saw the fear in her eyes. “I won’t hurt you,”
Marco added.

“
It’s not you, señor,” she
whispered. “I am so afraid of Comanches.”

“
She came anyway,” Claudio
explained, pride in his voice. “Tell him, Graci.”

Marco noted the little endearment, and the way
Graciela moved closer to Claudio. “I understand what it is to be
afraid of Comanches, whether you can see them or not,” he said
gently. “That is their greatest power over every Spaniard in New
Mexico. Please, Graciela.”

She took heart and stood straight. “I can show
you where Great Owl’s village is. I told Señora Mondragón and she
said I had to tell you. None of you will find it without
me.”

Marco could have kicked himself then. Great God
in heaven, why had he not demanded that Jean Baptiste tell him
where Great Owl planned to meet the French arms dealers? Great Owl
would never bring them into the village, with his women and
children.

“
I am a fool,” he said bitterly. “I
should have asked that miserable interpreter where the trade was to
take place!”

“
No matter,” Joaquim said in his
breezy fashion. He turned to David Benedict and spoke in English.
“Where will the trade take place?”

Marco stared at the royal engineer. “I had no
idea you could be so useful,” he said. “Where on earth ….
How—”

“
I began my engineering days in La
Florida, where there is a considerable English presence, mostly
unsanctioned,” Joaquim said. He twirled his forefingers around his
ears. “There was a time a few years ago when England and Spain were
allies. War makes me dizzy! I have always been good with
languages,” he concluded modestly, which made Marco laugh out
loud.

David Benedict folded his arms and set his lips
in a tight line. Marco didn’t even bother to glance at Toshua.
“Joaquim, you might suggest to our prisoner that this is no time to
be stubborn, or think that by holding out he will get better terms
than a visit to Santa Fe. He is lucky to be alive.”

Cheerful, Joaquim spoke to Benedict, who
ignored him. Joaquim shrugged. He took Graciela by the arm and
handed her off to Claudio, who led her away from the circle.
Benedict eyed the two of them, his frown deepening. The morning was
cool, but beads of sweat slid down his temples.

Toshua took out his scalping knife, turning it
over several times, as if trying to figure out which edge was
sharper. He strolled casually to a woodpile. As everyone watched,
probably not one breath drawn among all of them, the Comanche
searched until he found a long splinter. Carefully, he pared it
down even further, until the end was needle sharp.

Toshua took his time returning to the circle. A
gesture, and two of Rain Cloud’s warriors grabbed Benedict’s arms.
Toshua held the sharpened splinter at Benedict’s waist, then slowly
lowered it, tapping it here and there as the American started to
breathe fast.

A word from Toshua and the warriors pushed
Benedict’s legs farther apart.

“
No! No!” the American screamed. He
spoke rapidly to Joaquim, who held up his hand to stop the
Comanche. Toshua turned to Marco, a question in his
eyes.

“
Joaquim, tell him that we will have
the entire truth, or I will not stop Toshua,” Marco
said.

A few rapid words in English and Joaquim
nodded. “He will speak the truth.”

Desperate, Benedict gulped and spoke slower. He
lost control of his bowels and his humiliation was complete. Marco
felt his heart go out to the Englishman or American or whoever he
was. If any of them survived, Benedict would go to Santa Fe, spend
some years in prison in Mexico City, then return to St. Louis, or
wherever he felt safe from Comanches. He would tell his tale of
near mutilation, and shove fear deep into every man he spoke to.
Marco knew he was watching the birth of terror. David Benedict
would never be free from fear again.

“
Toshua has a knack, hasn’t he?”
Joaquim asked, his voice not so breezy this time. He spoke to David
Benedict in English.

Benedict’s voice was tight and urgent. The
words spilled out of him. At a gesture from Toshua, the warriors
released Benedict, who fell to the ground in his own
filth.

“
Should we, um, do something for
him?” Joaquim asked Marco.

“
No. Just leave him there,” Marco
replied, more shaken than he wanted to acknowledge. “This is not a
game we are playing.”

Marco felt unexpected pity as he watched the
defeated man in the dust. Benedict had drawn himself into a tight
ball now. Marco wondered how many nights the man would jerk awake
from a terrible nightmare in just that position. Marco looked
around at the solemn faces of the others, Hispanic and Indian
alike, wondering how long
he
would call out in fright from
the same nightmare. Thank God Paloma would be there to soothe
him.

“
Where is the meeting?” Marco asked
Joaquim. He turned away from the man Toshua had reduced to
quivering
flan
.

Joaquim pointed to Dos Hermanos, two peaks
rising from the Sangre de Cristos. “Between those two, tomorrow
when the sun is directly overhead.”

Hands on his hips, Marco stared across the
valley, toward the Cristos. “We will be there at daybreak,
watching.” He called to Lorenzo, who hurried over, giving a wide
berth to the sobbing man. Rogelio trotted behind, as loyal as a
hound, though probably not as bright.

Her eyes averted, Graciela joined them,
Claudio’s arm tight around her waist. Marco thought he would never
smile again, not after what he had just witnessed, but here he was,
smiling to see them.

Marco looked around this smaller circle, these
people he trusted. “Graciela, the purchase of firearms will take
place at noon tomorrow between those two peaks. Do you know
them?”

“
Yes, the Two Brothers,” she
whispered, her voice barely audible. She pointed beyond the more
southerly peak. “That is where Great Owl’s village will be located.
It is high and hidden.”

“
How certain are you that Great Owl
will be there?” Marco asked.

“
Positive, señor,” she replied
firmly. “Great Owl always camps there. Who does he have to fear?”
She gestured in a sweeping motion as graceful as her name. “There
is a pass uniting the two sites.”

“
Even better,” Marco said. Next he
turned to Lorenzo. “Answer me honestly now.” He gestured to
Benedict, still curled so tight. “Let him be your bad example of
someone who thinks he will lie.”

Lorenzo gulped and nodded.

“
Have you ever dealt with Great
Owl?”

“
Once,” Lorenzo said, with no
hesitation. “Of course, I had a long beard then and long hair. I
didn’t smell as sweet, either. He has never seen me looking
this
handsome.”

“
Would you truly like to be a hero
for Sancha?”

Lorenzo colored, dipped his head like a little
boy, then nodded, while Rogelio whooped. The sound was cut short by
a backhanded slap, but Rogelio still grinned.

“
Would you pretend to be a French
trader?” Marco asked Lorenzo. “You, too, Rogelio.”

“
Only if I know there are some of
you looking down on me, and hopefully ready with bows and arrows
and maybe even some firearms. We don’t need to sell him
all
of them, do we?”

Joaquim’s eyes narrowed. “Why are we selling
him any muskets at all?”

“
I want my slave money
back.”

“
You surprise me, Brother,” Claudio
said.

Marco turned to Graciela. “You would let
someone as foolish as my brother-in-law hold your hand?” He turned
hard eyes on Claudio next. “If he somehow survives what we are
planning, I do not want him to have one single centavo to purchase
more guns.”

Marco turned to Joaquim, who stood watching
this whole exchange with amusement. “You there, my royal engineer.
Did your professors teach you how to foul up a firing
piece?”

“
No, no! I learned that in a bar in
La Havana, Cuba,” Joaquim replied. “Saved my life, I think.
Certainly that part that David Benedict nearly lost.”

Marco looked around this smaller circle,
wondering when it was that he had become a leader, and not just a
juez de campo
. There were probably
jueces
all over
New Mexico who checked brands, registered them, collected taxes,
and minded their own business. Why was he not among that
number?

He gestured for Rain Cloud to join them,
wishing he could erase the sorrow from his old friend’s eyes. He
remembered with painful clarity the three days and nights they had
lain side by side five years ago, wounded after the first battle
with Cuerno Verde. He remembered the taste of the buffalo and wild
grass stew that Rain Cloud’s wife had fed them both, as she scolded
them in her gentle voice for taking so many chances. She was dead
now, and must be avenged.

“
My friend, how many warriors have
you?” he asked.

“
No more than twenty, I regret to
say.”

“
Get your men, and listen to what I
propose.”

He waited while Rain Cloud gathered his
warriors—Kapota Utes who sometimes allied with the New Mexicans,
and sometimes with Comanches, depending on how the wind blew. They
filed into the growing circle and sat down by their chief,
silent.

Marco squatted on his haunches. “Here is what I
want to do.” He pointed with his lips to Graciela. “You know this
little one. She and her mother lived among you until four years
ago, when Great Owl swooped down, silent as the bird that is his
totem.”

Everyone nodded. He had their attention.
“Tomorrow at noon, Great Owl, our common enemy, will buy guns from
French traders.”

“
Toshua and I killed the traders,”
Rain Cloud reminded him. He looked over his shoulder at Benedict.
“And this one is worthless.”

“
I know,” Marco said. “May they burn
in hell. Lorenzo, stand up.”

Surprised, the horse trader did as he
asked.

“
Lorenzo here, a hero in many parts
of New Mexico, will pretend to be a French trader.”

Marco smiled inside as Lorenzo stood a little
taller and struck a pose
. If I didn’t know you better, I would
be impressed,
he thought
.

“
But guns—” Rain Cloud
began.

“
Tss, tss, tss,” Marco cautioned. He
indicated Joaquim Gasca, a thorough-going rascal who had richly
deserved being broken down to private.
We work with what we
have
, Marco thought. “
This
hero is going to fix those
guns so they will not fire.”

“
That will be magic,” Rain Cloud
said, and looked at Joaquim with more respect than anyone had
assigned such a scoundrel in recent memory.

Marco drew in the dirt with his dagger, forming
the Two Brothers and that jog in the Sangre de Cristo Mountains as
they continued south, then handed his knife to Graciela. She knew
what he wanted, and drew a line from the Two Brothers over the hump
of the Cristos, and partly down to the eastern side of the mountain
range.

“
Here is the danger,” Marco said. “I
will not try to fool you. I would like five of your warriors with
me, as we watch our hero Lorenzo sell bad guns to Great Owl, who
will probably have brought many of his warriors with him. I say
‘probably,’ because I do not know.”

“
Who can know these things?” Rain
Cloud said philosophically.

“
Who, indeed? Not my God and all his
saints, nor your totem the bear, who knows so much and gives you
his wisdom. At the time we are making our trade, you and the rest
of your warriors will strike Great Owl’s camp with its women and
children.” He looked around at the men, who were now listening
intently. “Some of you will probably be able to rescue your own
women and children.”