Now Hope made his way into the tent of El Miedo. The landscape of this man’s dreams was so easy to navigate and to manipulate, “to steal” as Hope’s father would say. But the coyote knew it was not his father doing the manipulation now; Haru the spirit was sheltered within him.
Two nuggets you shall behold
That gleam like the brightest gold.
A fool’s gold shall lure you forth
And another stallion to the north,
A stallion bold
As good as gold,
A stallion oh so strong,
For whom you have forever longed,
And then there are the rest.
So indeed you shall be thrice blessed!
“It must have been a wolf pack that scared all the mules,” one lieutenant said to another.
“Yes, the wolves,” the blacksmith said.
In the confusion that had broken out with horses rearing and mules bucking and Ibers flooding into the corral to control the horses, Hope had accomplished what he had set out to do. Plant the seed of lust for gold in El Miedo’s mind — all while the animals in the corral were sowing the seeds of freedom.
“¡Todo es calma!” another lieutenant proclaimed when the padre had finished saying a blessing over a dead Iber. And then men had come to remove his body. Somehow, Mikki, who had been the cause of the tumult, had been forgotten entirely. She stood now beside Jacinto, who muttered, “Everything is far from calm, little one.”
“But what about Abelinda?” Mikki said. She watched as the mare walked toward a small gathering of horses near the main water trough.
“The time is coming,” Jacinto said to Mikki.
And his words were echoed by Abelinda to the horses at the trough. “The time is coming. The time is coming.”
“Time for what?” a colt asked.
“You remember the filly Estrella and the boy? You remember what happened in the plaza at the blessing?”
“They tried to run. They were whipped,” the colt said.
“They wanted to be … free,” Abelinda whispered.
“But the Ibers won’t give us our freedom,” the younger mare replied.
“Of course not! Freedom is not to be given. It is to be taken!” Jacinto snorted forcefully.
The word passed through the corrals. Something was going to happen. They should all be ready. They felt something none of them had ever felt before — a wildness rising in their blood.
Abelinda walked over to the little mule. “Mikki?”
“Yes?”
“Mikki, you stay close to me and be ready.”
“Be ready for what?”
“To rid yourself of your yoke forever.”
“No yoke!” she replied with delight shining in her eyes. She understood completely, faster than any of the grown-up horses or mules.
El Miedo awoke, and though he could not really remember his dream, he felt an urgency to see the Chitzen boy. As the guard unlocked the door, a thrill coursed through him. The light in the small cell was dim. The boy sat very still in the corner, but both the guard and El Miedo gasped when they saw the gleam of the gold nugget.
“Where? Where did this come from?” he asked, pointing at the gold. But of course the boy did not understand the Iber tongue. So El Miedo began gesticulating madly, pointing at the gold, then sweeping his hands in all directions and repeating the words “¿Dónde? … ¿De dónde proviene este oro?”
At that moment, another guard broke in, “¡Capitán! ¡Capitán! Venga, venga.” Come! Come! And then he stopped abruptly as his eyes locked on the gold nugget in Tijo’s hand. “¡Es la misma!”
“What is the same?”
“La misma pepita de oro.” The same gold nugget.
“Where?”
“In the stall of the horse — the filly.”
El Miedo suddenly felt dizzy. He looked at the boy, the boy he had beaten and called mule boy. Was this what stood between him and gold?
Then the song from his dream came back to him, threading through his mind.
Two nuggets you shall behold
That gleam like the brightest gold.
A fool’s gold shall lure you forth
And another stallion to the north,
A stallion bold
As good as gold,
A stallion oh so strong,
For whom you have forever longed,
And then there are the rest.
So indeed you shall be thrice blessed!
His mouth dropped open in wonder. His old friend Coyote had come back to him. Coyote had come back! He could hardly believe it. He knew he had sensed gold nearby. He knew it had to be very close. And the stallion, the one he had named but could not buy, Arriero was near as well. And the first herd! Such blessings so close.
He raced to Estrella’s stall, and there it lay on a pile of straw, burning bright, beckoning him. He looked up into Estrella’s eyes. The gold was reflected like a small flame in each of her dark eyes.
“¿Usted y el muchacho me llevarán allí?” You and the boy will take me there, truly?
Estrella, who was starting to remember the Iber tongue, understood what he had said. This would be their chance, and yet it would be even riskier than their first attempt to escape. They would be under heavy guard. Her feet might not be hobbled, but there would be the painful twitch on her nose and she could not imagine what restraints they would put on Tijo. She kept her gaze focused on the gold nugget. A few little sparks seemed to fly from the center. She blinked. The sparks were fusing into one bright form. A small horse was prancing above the gold nugget. Am I the only one who can see this? Estrella wondered. For all the radiance of the gold was dwindling, and yet with each second, the tiny horse grew brighter. But did El Miedo or the guard notice this? Their eyes were fastened on the nugget that had lost its shimmer and become dull and lumpen as a clot of dirt. However, neither one of the men seemed to notice this. Then the sudden fragrance of the sweet grass swept through the close air of the stall. Something was happening, or was about to happen.
“¡Es un milagro!” El Miedo said, bending down to pick up the lump that now looked as dark as coal. Estrella nodded her head gently as if in agreement. And it was a miracle of sorts. How could the Ibers be so blind? But she kept her eyes on the tiny horse, which now turned its head and seemed to say, Fear not, fear not. Estrella thought of her dam, Perlina. She thought of the star that never moves. Her guide stars were back.
They were all there behind a bluff, except Arriero, who was continuing to climb to the crest. The sun gleamed down on his muscular back.
“What do you see?” Hold On nickered.
“They are bringing a lot of horses and mules with carts.”
“Carts for the rock veined with gold,” Yazz said, blowing gusts of wind through her nostrils in contempt. “I’ve been on a gold jerkline before. It’s pure misery. They need to haul so much rock to find the tiniest bit of gold. It’s the hardest labor there is for a mule, pulling those carts of rock. Many die in the harness after short lives.”
“And the Chitzen,” Arriero added. “I can see from here that they are in chains.”
“El Miedo needs slaves to dig for the gold and then later to smash the rocks,” Yazz said.
“What about Estrella and Tijo?” Hold On asked. The stallion tossed his head impatiently, as if he himself were trying to cast off an invisible bit and harness.
“I can’t spot them yet. But, Yazz, can you come up here? I am not sure what I am seeing. It looks like … like … a falange caballo.”
“What?” Sky asked.
“A falange,” Hold On’s voice echoed ominously.
“A falange?” Verdad said. “I don’t know this word.”
“If you’ve been in battle, you know it,” Grullo said. “It means a formation like a locked box.”
“Estrella and Tijo must be at the center of the falange. Surrounded by the other horses so they cannot escape,” Bobtail said.
“And the other horses
have riders?” Verdad asked.
“Yes, with pikes and the muskets,” Arriero said. Then the stallion tossed his head and whinnied shrilly. “I see Pego!” The other horses spun around, but none could see as far as Arriero, who described what he saw. “I can’t tell who’s riding him, but it’s not El Miedo. Oh! I can see Estrella and Tijo in the very center of the falange.”
Hold On sighed. “Truly a locked box!”
“We’ll see,” Arriero said, and began to move so he would be in full view. “We’ll see.”
Verdad and Sky, the two young colts, exchanged nervous glances. The stallion seemed very calm.
“He’s the lure,” Sky said as he watched Arriero climb the slope. “He and the gold are the lure. But the gold is nowhere. And now he is standing right there on the crest. They can see him plainly. How can he be so calm?”
“War,” whispered Hold On. “He’s been in war. War hardens.”
Arriero open his mouth and whinnied. The cry unfurled on the breeze.
“There he is!” El Miedo whispered, his voice quivering with anticipation as he caught sight of the magnificent stallion. “Fall in and lock!”
Pego, who was being ridden by a lowly sergeant, looked at Jacinto. “That’s a battle command. Who’s the enemy here?” Pego asked, confused.
“The enemy is within,” Jacinto replied, glancing at Estrella. As soon as the command was given to fall in and lock, the mule felt the press of the horses surrounding him.
“What?” Pego asked. “Are we heading for battle?”
“No, not a battle. Not yet. El Miedo is protecting the center of the falange. He doesn’t want the filly or the boy to escape,” Jacinto said. El Miedo sensed that the filly and the boy held a precious secret, a secret about gold. Estrella and the boy were both his enemy and his salvation.
A current of tension ran through the falange. Jacinto gave a sharp glance to Abelinda, warning her to say nothing. The horses, the mules were ready. And who knew if Pego, too, might be ready, yet Jacinto would never trust him. He was a proud one, this Pura Raza. The insult of being ridden by an Iber who had until recently been an infantryman had been a calculated move on the part of El Miedo, and Pego’s pure blood must be boiling. There was no knowing what he would do to restore his wounded pride.
They were coming closer and closer to where Arriero was poised on top of the hill. The sun was rising behind him, and to El Miedo, the figure of the stallion was like a vision dipped in gold.
Estrella felt the twitch on her nose tighten. She jittered nervously in an odd step, jouncing the lieutenant who sat astride her and causing him to curse incessantly. The harder he dug the sharp spurs into her flanks, the worse he bounced in the saddle.
As the horses around him drew closer, Tijo felt the mare Abelinda’s flanks pressing against his leg. She had squeezed in still closer to him.
“You speak horse, boy?”
“Yes.” He made a soft nicker indistinguishable from that of a horse.
“This Iber who rides me carries a scabbard with a short blade just beneath his stirrup strap of the leg that is pressing against you now. You must grab it.”
“But how can I get it without him knowing?”
“I’ll start a little disturbance. You make it into a big one. Be quick. With the blade, you can cut the rope that tethers you and the twitch line on Estrella’s muzzle.”
“We can do it,” Estrella nickered. “We can, Tijo!”
“But what about the Iber riding you?”
“Once you cut the twitch line, I can throw him easily. He’s hardly been able to stay on me as it is.”
“I ask for just one thing,” Abelinda said.
“What’s that?” Tijo asked.
“If you can break to my side, just over on the outer edge of the falange is a small mule and an older one in the jerkline. Try and cut them loose.”
“We’ll try,” Estrella nickered, tossing her head.
A shiver ran through the herd of animals. They had seen Jacinto charge the Ibers. During the tumult in the corral, the notion of being free of these terrible humans had spread. The mules were particularly excited. Unyoked! They kept repeating the word almost as if they were polishing it like a precious stone and indeed the notion of freedom began to burn fiercely in their minds like radiant gems, as bright as gold.
Abelinda began a skittish little quickstep, almost like a paso fino. “¡Calma! Calma!” her rider said.
“What’s the trouble?” asked another rider.
“Ah, the mare does not like the compacto.”
“Not accustomed to the falange apretado. She’s just an old plug. Never been in combat.” Jacinto glanced at Abelinda. This will ignite the fire. Then the mule saw a spurt of blood from where the spurs dug into Abelinda’s flanks.
She reared up and whinnied shrilly. Now, Horse Boy! Now! With one swift movement, Tijo leaned over and grabbed the blade, pulling it from the scabbard, then he slid from his horse onto Estrella … He cut the rope around his waist and slashed at the cord of the muzzle twitch on Estrella. Pandemonium broke loose as a score of horses, forty or more, reared. The lock was broken. Riders fell to the ground. The muskets were fired, setting off more panic, but luckily the shots exploded into the air.
El Miedo was shouting orders, but his voice was lost in the din of shrieking horses and the shouts of Ibers.
“There’s the little mule!” Estrella said. “We must cut her loose.” Estrella was unsure how they might help the rest of the mules, as there were at least two other jerklines and to cut them free of their yokes with the single blade that Tijo held seemed impossible. But in the panic, mules had begun to rear and carts were toppling over.
Estrella with Tijo were on a straight line now, clear of the fray and heading for Mikki. The mare Abelinda was right beside them. However, she skidded to a halt when she saw El Miedo staggering toward them. The fury radiated off of him like heat from a fire. He was carrying not one but two muskets and was pointing them right at Tijo and Estrella.
“No!” Abelinda shrieked. There was a streak as a dark horse bolted between El Miedo and Estrella. Blood splattered the air. But it was not Abelinda’s blood, nor was it Mikki’s. Pego! A curtain of flesh hung from his chest. Blood poured onto the ground.
“Go!” he whinnied. “Go!” His eyes rolled back in his head, and then he collapsed.
There were close to one hundred horses in all. They kicked up an enormous dust storm in their wake. The new horses who had never before run wild felt something igniting in them, a kindling that was building to a flame — a fire of freedom. They were galloping faster than they ever had before, their hearts uproarious with this newfound liberty. Iron shoes were cast as they ran. Saddles slipped to the horses’ sides, and many eventually were shed completely. Their bridles hung half off with the reins trailing. Every time a shoe was cast, a saddle flung to the ground, they whinnied with delight. Never again would they be owned. Never again would they be beaten. Never again would they be the vehicles for the Ibers’ greed. The horses pounded across this new land so fast, their hooves devouring the ground. Their veins tingled with the fever of freedom.
They stopped to rest in a strange basin where steam rose from vents and twined up through the air. When the hot vapors first erupted, there was a hissing, then feathery white plumes surged toward the sky. The plumes would linger, then the wind would thin them out until the remnants looked like the filaments of a giant spiderweb stretched across the night. The horses, sweating and breathing heavily, looked about in wonder at this seemingly magical place.
Hold On trotted up to Estrella with Tijo astride. “I can’t believe it. You’re here! You both escaped,” he whinnied joyfully. Tijo reached over and pressed his cheek against the old stallion’s face. Hold On felt a wetness. So these are tears, he thought. Horses could not shed tears, not tears that came from the deepest of feelings. For a moment, he wished he could cry, to express the overwhelming surge of emotion in his heart.
He ran his muzzle d
own Tijo’s legs toward Estrella’s flanks and bristled. The smell of the leather saddle nauseated him.
“Don’t worry,” Tijo said, slipping from her back. “I’ll take off her saddle and bridle.”
He loosened the girth and cast the saddle on the ground. Then he took the bridle from her head and threw it as far as he could.
Estrella gave herself a hard shake to dispel any trace of the foul-tasting metal. Then she looked about, taking in the incredible scene before her.
“There are so many of us now,” she said softly, her voice a mix of wonder and apprehension. These newly freed horses did not know what it meant to be wild. Someone would have to teach them, to guide them. But could she be that leader? The last time the herd had turned to her, she’d let them down.
She was also haunted by the image of the fallen Pego, which she couldn’t shake from her mind. A welter of confusing emotions swirled within her. She had felt only contempt for the dark stallion for as long she could remember. Had he purposely charged out to take the muskets’ fire? Had he truly sacrificed his own life? Why now? What had changed him? She saw the blood spurting from his chest. There’d been an intriguing light in his eyes as he fell dying. It was not the sheen of pride she had seen so many times in his eyes. Not fear. But an odd sort of relief. And perhaps even gladness – gladness to have met death. It was as if he were saying, I am done but you must live. It was, she realized, a moment that Pego the proud Pura Raza had never before experienced. It was his moment of grace.
“We are free,” said a small voice. It was the mare Abelinda. She was shaking her head in wonder, for she no longer wore a bridle. She craned her head around to look at her tawny coat rimed with sweat and blinked in joyous disbelief. “I’m naked! No saddle! No bridle and just one iron shoe left!” She bucked ecstatically.
“But I still have my yoke even though I am not in the jerkline.” Mikki tipped her head this way and that.
“I’ll fix that,” Tijo said. He still had in his hand the blade that he had taken from the Iber. He began sawing at the strap beneath Mikki’s neck.
Yazz trotted over and gave Tijo an affectionate nudge with her long nose.
Wild Blood Page 8