Paloma and the Horse Traders (4 page)

“
No. You will pat and caress and
talk to the one inside, and he or she will come out already well
loved, as Claudio did.”

As the women exchanged a glance, Paloma felt an
unexpected wrench, wishing her mother and father and her brothers,
long dead now, could know of her great fortune, or at the very
least, know that she was alive and well.
Does this longing ever
go away?
she asked herself as they headed toward the fork in
the road.

The perfect spot was as perfect as ever, and
only half a league from the hacienda, a gentle slope to the river
but little used because it was all Marco’s land. After a few
minutes, the horses were grazing nearby, and Soledad was heading to
the river, towing along Eckapeta.

Claudio clapped his hands when Paloma took him
from the cradleboard. Sitting on her lap, he nuzzled her breast,
letting her know he wanted to nurse. With a small sigh, she handed
him an earthenware cup and poured in a few finger’s worth of goat’s
milk.

He gave her a look that combined equal measures
of dismay and then acceptance, because he was thirsty, and in
truth, he already knew that drinking from a cup was easier. He took
the cup and drank deeply, all the while assuaging her heart as he
leaned against her, secure in his world, even if Mama had decided,
for some reason, that his nursing days were over.

When he finished, she took his hand and led him
to the river, where he played in the wet sand beside his only
slightly older cousin, the one he called sister.

“
We’ll teach them to swim, when they
are older,” Paloma told Eckapeta.

“
Teach me, too,” her friend
said.

“
I thought you knew everything,”
Paloma teased.

Eckapeta shuddered. “Not this! Don’t you fear
what might swim below the surface?”

Paloma shook her head, secretly pleased that
there was one skill—probably only one—that she could offer
Eckapeta. “You might brush against a sleepy turtle or have your
toes nibbled by minnows. There aren’t any bad spirits.”

The Comanche woman’s expression told Paloma
everything she needed to know about The People and water. “Well,
never mind. If you fall in, I will save you,” she said.

A few more minutes and Soli began to yawn and
tug at her eyelids, which meant sand in her eyes. She shed a few
tears until Eckapeta silenced her with no more than a stare. They
stripped the children, washed them, dried them, and took them to
the shade of a cottonwood back from the bank. New clothes went on,
and then bread and cheese found its way into eager hands. Soli
sighed with pleasure at the peeled cactus bits.

Eckapeta lay down and put her hands behind her
head. The little ones snuggled on either side and soon slept.
Paloma unbuttoned her bodice. “If I won’t frighten you, I’m going
to swim.”

Drowsy, Eckapeta moved her hand to show
approval. Paloma stripped and walked to the water. In another
moment, she was floating on her back. Since the current of August
bore no resemblance to the current of June, which roared from the
Sangre de Cristos full of snow melt, she drifted along, always
staying in sight of the tree.

She remembered the July haymaking afternoon
that turned into baby making, and wondered why neither of their
children seemed to want to start life in a bed.
Why, indeed?
she thought.
All I ever need is Marco, and he is
portable.

She laughed out loud, perfectly content
,
until she started thinking about all there was to do before the
official end of summer. She had an excuse now to take life easier,
but she knew the monumental effort required by everyone to prepare
for winter.
I do hope you find me some more help for the babies,
Marco
, she thought. She floated along and touched her belly,
recalling with no regret her much slimmer waist.

The days of starvation were over and she was
fertile. Throw in the loveliness of a husband like Marco, and a
woman could not ask for more, especially in the royal colony of New
Mexico, where life was hard. She was truly blessed, and she knew
it.

“
And I have friends,” she said
softly, as she saw Eckapetta hurrying toward her.

Paloma stopped, and let her feet swing down to
the shallow river bottom. Eckapeta was running now, looking over
her shoulder. Alert, Paloma started toward the shore at a half
swim, half run. Eckapeta had a towel in her arms, which she wrapped
around Paloma as soon as she clambered up the slight
rise.

Eckapeta pointed with her lips, and Paloma saw
the dust cloud—one not created by the fickle wind, but by many
horses. She grabbed the towel around her and dried herself as they
ran back to the trees, where the babies still slept.

Paloma threw on her clothes, grateful her hair
was still confined by a ribbon. She scuffed her feet in her shoes,
her mind a blank. Better not to even think about who this might
be.

“
Have they seen us?” she
whispered.

“
I don’t think so,” Eckapeta
replied, her face stern. “We would only attract attention if we
mounted our horses, so I will lead them into the
bosque
. Get
the little ones.”

The single cottonwood had been a prime location
for a nap, but it offered no protection. Paloma glanced toward the
growing dust cloud then resolved not to look again. With a hand on
each small chest, she pressed lightly and spoke softly, waking her
little ones and warning them at the same time.

She didn’t think Claudio was old enough to
understand, but she knew Soli was already a good child of Valle del
Sol, born into trouble and raised to be wary.

“
My love, you must be ever so quiet
now. Follow Eckapeta and the horses and do as she says,” Paloma
whispered. “Go now!”

To Paloma’s relief, the child did exactly as
she was told, moving purposefully on sturdy little legs and without
a glance back. Ready to put her hand over her son’s mouth, Paloma
scooped him up, along with what remained of their gathering that
Eckapeta had not snatched. She ran after her daughter and crouched
with her in the welcome shade of the clump of trees.

Eckapeta led the horses farther in, tied them,
and left them. She hurried back and led Paloma and the children a
little deeper, searching for the best place. When they were settled
and both children were on Paloma’s lap, their faces turned into her
breasts, Eckapeta climbed the tree with the agility of a much
younger woman.

“
What do you see?” Paloma asked,
after a pause that seemed to stretch for hours.

“
Many horses and a few riders. Maybe
they are going to the trade fair in Taos,” Eckapeta replied, making
no effort to speak quietly. “Still, we will stay here
until ….”

She stopped. After another long pause, Eckapeta
spoke again, quieter this time. “But they are being followed by
Nurmurnah, The People. Don’t move or make a sound. These are not
Kwihnai’s people and I fear them.”

Paloma did as she said, bowing her head over
her darlings, keeping them silent. She wished that Marco was there
to wrap his comforting bulk around the three of them. Calmly, she
tucked the foolish wish away and prepared to fight to the death for
her children.

Eckapeta was too silent. “Tell me what you
see,” Paloma pleaded.

She could have screamed with the silence, but
she only clenched her jaw tighter. Claudio began to whimper, so she
opened her bodice and nursed him; weaning could wait. He suckled
and was comforted, while Soledad burrowed closer.

Paloma closed her eyes, remembering blessed
moments of nearly four years, moments that would never have been
hers, if Marco Mondragón had not ridden to Santa Fe to take his
yearly records to the governor, and gone in search of a little dog
to keep his feet warm at night. If this was all the joy she would
know, it was better than none at all. She thanked El Padre
Celestial for his kindness to her and put her terror away,
too.

To her relief, Eckapeta nimbly retraced her way
down the swaying cottonwood and joined her. She put her hand gently
on Paloma’s neck and gave her a little shake. “Be calm, dear one!”
she murmured. “The smaller dust cloud has met up with the horse
herd. I think they are fighting. They are closer to Santa Maria
than to us, so let us ride for the Double Cross.”

Silent, Paloma picked up Claudio and ran with
him to her horse, Eckapeta close behind with Soledad in her arms.
The Comanche woman helped Paloma put the cradleboard on her back
again, stuffed in Claudio, then heaved them onto Paloma’s horse
with no fanfare. Eckapeta handed up Soledad next and Paloma seated
the little one firmly in front of her.

“
Ride and don’t look anywhere but
ahead of you,” Eckapeta ordered. “I will follow behind you and stop
anyone who might see us.” She took out the knife she wore in her
belt at the small of her back. “Go!”

Paloma jammed her heels into her normally
sedate mare, which started in surprise at such unexpected treatment
from her mistress. She was not a speedy horse, but maybe she sensed
trouble. Perhaps she smelled strange horses. Whatever the reason,
the mare shot away from the
bosque
and thundered toward the
place where the road forked toward the Double Cross.

“
Fun, Mama!” Soledad said as she
leaned back against Paloma, enjoying the wind in her baby-fine
hair.

“
Yes, fun,” Paloma said as she
crouched lower in the saddle, wishing she could turn herself into a
Comanche rider. Her skirts billowed well above her thighs. She knew
Marco would tease her if he were here, but he was not, so she
struggled to keep her tears inside.

Thank the Almighty that the guards were
watching. As she raced toward them on her energized mare, the gates
swung open to receive her and her babies. Emilio ran into the
courtyard, summoned by a cry from one of the guards. The big patrol
dogs began to bark, which made Soli put her hands over her ears and
mutter something that sounded surprisingly like what her papa might
say at such a moment.

Emilio struck the iron bar that dangled from a
chain, which brought Sancha and Perla from the kitchen garden and
into the courtyard. Paloma handed down Soledad, who still had her
hands over her ears, and Perla helped Paloma from the
saddle.

Paloma eased out of the cradleboard and handed
it to Perla. “Take them into the kitchen. I will be in there in a
moment.”

Not waiting for an argument from Sancha, who
would insist that she come too, Paloma followed Emilio up the
ladder to the parapet, where three guards had gathered. She looked
where they looked and saw, to her relief, Eckapeta bending low over
her horse, riding fast.

The gates closed behind her as soon as she was
through them. In one smooth motion, she dismounted, let the reins
drop, and climbed up the ladder without even drawing a deep
breath.

She put her arm around Paloma in a gesture so
tender that Paloma felt all her love and concern, but her words
were to the
mayor domo
, who watched them both.

“
I believe I know these Kwahadi,”
she said, only then betraying that she was slightly out of
breath.

“
Is that good?” Paloma
asked.

Eckapeta shook her head. “Their leader, a man
named Great Owl, had words with Kwihnai last winter in the
cañón
. He was angry because Kwihnai has sworn to your
husband never to attack Santa Maria again, or anywhere in Valle del
Sol. Great Owl and his band rode from the
cañón
, and we have
not seen them until now.”

“
Will there be trouble? Paloma had
to ask, even though she could read Eckapeta’s expressions well.
I don’t want trouble without Marco close by
, she wanted to
say.
Please tell me all is well, even if it is not
true
.

“
There will be trouble, Paloma. Let
us prepare.”

In
which Paloma is proxy for her husband, the carefree fair-goer, drat
his hide

“
W
e will
keep you and your children safe,” Emilio said, after a long look at
Eckapeta, who stared back at him with an equally impassive gaze.
“By the Virgin, I promise you.”

Paloma nodded to Emilio, thinking how kind he
was to spare her tender feelings, and also grateful for Eckapeta’s
unvarnished honesty.
He sees me as a fearful woman and Eckapeta
sees me as a warrior, ready to fight to the death for my
children
, she thought.
Our ways are
different
.

She held out her hand to the old man, who had
faced a lifetime of uncertainty, living in Valle del Sol, that
farthermost outpost of Spanish civilization in New Mexico. “Tell me
what I need to do,” she asked, even though she already knew what
course to take.

“
The Comanche moon is rising again,”
he told her. “You will need to go underground tonight.”

Paloma nodded, feeling suddenly like the
fearful woman Emilio already thought her. Marco had taken her once
to the hiding place under the chapel floor. She could almost smell
the close air again and feel the dampness of the earthen
walls.