“Are you thinking of the stairway we saw at Skull Mesa?” She had to say something for fear she’d ask him to take her with him when he left, but not go home to his ranch. Ask him to show her the world.
“I am.” Heath looked past her to her brothers. “Can you imagine the work it took to carve this ladder out of stone? And what’s up there? The buildings on top of Skull Mesa were so crumbled I couldn’t get an idea of what they’d once looked like. I would surely love to go up there and see Meseta Blanca and try to lay that image over the top of the ruins I saw.”
Sadie turned to see that spark of curiosity in her brothers’ eyes.
“It is impossible.” Rosita slashed a hand in the air. Much like when she’d ordered them to ride, they accepted her words as truth.
“You’ve been up there three times, you said?” Sadie didn’t want to give up on whatever she could learn.
“Yes. Their way of building would seem strange to you, but it is their way. The houses are immense, several stories high, with flat roofs. Many families share one dwelling, and there are ladders to climb to reach the upper levels of each.”
“Ladders outside? Why didn’t they build stairways inside?”
“They didn’t because they didn’t.” Rosita gave Sadie a look that said the question was a waste of time. “There is a good-sized church, and when I was there last, a Catholic priest lived with several other mission folks. This mesa is huge. There is some very sparse farmland up there, but down here they irrigate using the Cimarron.”
Sadie tried to imagine it. She had more questions and opened her mouth to ask them.
“Here comes Delfina. And the wise one is with her. Good. I hope he can answer our questions. It’s easy to imagine they might know something of that place and have told no one or told very few.”
Sadie felt her heart speed up. Maybe instead of more questions, they’d finally get some answers.
The man came first. He hurried down the ladder with agility that belied any great age. He wore leather pants. Sadie had seen the Pueblo men in breechcloths and moccasins a few times. They came to town dressed so, and Sadie had quickly averted her eyes.
To her relief, it looked like in the cooler winter weather the Pueblo men dressed to stay warm.
The man came so swiftly, he left Delfina behind. He leapt the last few feet and landed with catlike grace beside them, kicking up a small puff of dust.
His black hair, streaked heavily with gray, was bound up at the back of his head in some sort of twist. Deep lines were etched in his skin. He was spry, but he was definitely an old man. With unwelcoming black eyes, he studied them. Sadie could see that although he’d agree to meet with them, he was a long way from cooperating.
Justin took a step forward. He spoke a few words Sadie didn’t know. Pa had known many native folks. Pueblo mainly, but also Apache and Navajo. He spoke a little of their languages. It appeared that Justin had picked some of it up, too.
After a few words between them, Justin said, “This is Tesuque.”
The man’s name sounded like Tee-SOO-kee.
Justin said their names for the elder. If Tesuque was interested, he didn’t show it. Sadie held her breath. Would he deny them a chance to ask any questions? Would he go right back to his mountaintop home? Would he be able to speak English well enough to understand what they wanted?
“Let us go to Delfina’s house,” the man said.
Delfina reached the ground just as Tesuque spoke.
“My daughter-in-law has promised me her special cake if I speak to you.” Tesuque smiled at Delfina with genuine affection. “And Rosita always brings real coffee from town.”
Rosita took one of the elder’s arms while Delfina took the other. They walked together toward Delfina’s house across the rocky ground. The rest of them dismounted and walked a few paces behind.
23
Tesuque ate his cake and drank his coffee with relish. Afterward, he slid low in his chair, a contented man. Delfina added a log to the crackling fire while Rosita rushed to refill his cup.
“Delfina has told me of your questions,” Tesuque began. “About the village atop el Caletre Meseta.”
“El Caletre Meseta?” Sadie repeated. Then she nearly bit her tongue. It was probably a terrible rudeness to interrupt an elder.
Tesuque smiled with no visible annoyance. “That is the Pueblo name for what you call Skull Mesa. It’s a Spanish word, but it means more clearly what your mesa was originally called. It means . . .” Tesuque paused a moment, then his expression eased. “It is like stubborn, only not quite. More like a man who will not give up. A man with . . . with gumption, I suppose you would say. It is said that the folks who lived on el Caletre had to be determined to stay there. It was not an easy place to be.”
Sadie nodded, deciding not to interrupt again.
“It’s an ancient legend, handed down by the old ones who lived on the mesa. They had a hidden way into the heart of the mountain.”
Sadie almost smiled. Tesuque, and no doubt all his people too, had always known a stairway existed. And yet because they’d cut themselves off, those who lived around the area, like her own family, had never heard the legend.
“The men were hunters, and the women tilled the soil. They would come down from their fortress every day, do their work, then return to el Caletre Meseta to sleep. A single man standing guard could fight off an army. Our home here at Meseta Blanca is the same.”
Tesuque took a sip of his coffee, then drew a deep breath. “And then one day the Evil Below the Earth shook the world until it split apart. The hand of the Evil One reached up and dragged the stairs into the belly of the earth as if they’d never been. It came during the day, so many were off the mesa top, but the villagers who were trapped on high faced death as their food and water dwindled. They called out to the Creator of All Things.
“Their cries were answered. The Creator came as a great wind, swept them up, and carried them in cradling arms to safety. Though they had carved the stairs and could carve more, they believed the stairs collapsing was a warning, and they feared the Creator would not send the wind the next time, and they would be stranded forever. They found other homes, and many of their stories vanished along with them. But this one remains.”
Cole said, “There have been earthquakes here, though they are mostly farther south.”
“I’ve felt one before,” Justin said.
To Sadie, the story of el Caletre felt like a myth grounded in truth.
“Do all the Pueblo know of this story?” Heath asked. “I’ll bet no one who lives around el Caletre has ever heard it. The mesa is said to be impossible to climb.”
“The history is known to the Pueblo, but outsiders have shown little interest in the words of those native to these lands. Many consider our myths to be the fevered dreams that come from peyote and sweat lodges.” Tesuque looked at Heath with cool wisdom.
Sadie knew that if the Pueblo people didn’t have real proof of there being truth in the story, they probably would have dismissed it by now. She burned with curiosity. What other old stories were there? What else could Tesuque and other Pueblo folks tell them about the land in which they lived? She was determined that once their current troubles were solved, she’d come back to this place. Tesuque might talk with her more. If he wasn’t willing to share more stories, possibly Delfina or her husband knew old tales such as these.
As she thought of Delfina, another notion came to her. “If these stories are passed among your people, who outside your village would know of them? Who comes from here but has entered the world outside Meseta Blanca?”
Tesuque shook his head, but not in dismissal. His expression told her he was looking into the past, pondering, sorting through old memories of who had left the Pueblo village and might have taken the story to someone who’d believe.
Into the silence, Delfina said, “I know of one Pueblo woman. She was of low honor and became the kept woman of a Spaniard. She would have known these stories, and p
erhaps the Spaniard indulged her and listened. Perhaps he even believed.”
“Who is it, Delfina?” Justin’s blue eyes sparked with intensity.
“Her name is never spoken among our people, but it is all right to speak the name of the man who lured her away from us.” Delfina looked at Tesuque, who seemed as interested as anyone. “A village woman was kept for years by the old Don.”
Justin said, “Don? You mean Don Bautista de Val? Frank Chastain’s partner in the CR?”
They all straightened. Suddenly it made sense.
“And his son was the man who some believe killed your grandfather,” Heath said.
Rosita nodded. “Ramone. I remember him well. He was the old Don’s son, born outside of marriage. We only discovered the relationship after Mr. Chastain was dead and Ramone had disappeared.”
“Ramone de Val. He ran away the day my grandfather died and was taken into the protection of his father in Mexico City,” Sadie said.
“And his mother was a Pueblo?” Cole asked. “She knew the old stories about Skull Mesa? Why didn’t we hear about this when we were searching for Ramone?”
“It was no secret,” Rosita said. “I knew it. I just never gave it much thought. What did her native ancestry have to do with killing Mr. Chastain?”
Cole and Justin looked at each other.
“Ramone would be an old man by now,” Justin said. “After we were shot at, I rode hard to catch the gunman before he got down the mesa. Rushing down that ladder isn’t the work of an old man.”
Sadie thought of how fast Tesuque had climbed down and she wasn’t so sure. She was itching to get back home, to start the search for Ramone. “Could the man who shot Grandfather have also attacked Pa, and shot at us? Is it possible?”
“I’d know him if I saw him, and I haven’t,” Rosita said. “And there are old-timers in town who would—at least if we warned them to be looking. We need to spread the word.”
Cole strode toward the door.
Justin clamped his Stetson on his head. “Let’s go find him.”
It looked as though her brothers were going to storm out without a word or a backward glance. Which was just rude.
Sadie moved to stand in front of Tesuque. “We are so grateful for your help. Thank you for sharing your stories with us. I’d like to hear more sometime, to learn about your people. It’s wrong that we live so close and know so little about each other. Would you allow me to come back, or maybe you could come to the CR and share a meal with us sometime? Bring your son and Delfina, too.”
Tesuque looked at her with his black eyes as if weighing every word. “I do not leave Meseta Blanca often, but I will think on this. Perhaps I will come.”
Sadie smiled. “I appreciate that you would even consider it. Thank you for all your help today.” Her inviting Tesuque to share more about the Pueblo would be the first step in learning about life outside her ranch and her small town.
They were on the trail at a fast clip. The sun hung low in the sky behind them.
Heath heard Cole ask Justin a question about someone he knew living in Skull Gulch. The two were riding hard and talking at the same time. Rosita led the group, all the while focused on the trail.
They were so intent on getting home, or starting their search for Ramone, or someone who was connected to him, they forgot to keep Heath away from Sadie. So he slowed his horse just a bit, figuring he’d get back to town soon enough. She slowed right along with him.
“Can we count this as going for a ride, Sadie?”
Something glinted in her eyes that hadn’t been there before. He didn’t think it was about Ramone de Val. “Talking with Tesuque made me realize how cut off I’ve been. I want to see more of the world. Meseta Blanca isn’t even far, but I never knew a thing about it. And what’s more, I wasn’t even interested. Can you tell me about your travels, Heath?”
Heath hadn’t really had it in mind to talk about that, but he did like the gleam in her eyes. She looked at him as if he were a great adventurer. Mostly in his wandering, though, he’d worked. He’d signed up somewhere when his money ran low and worked until he had enough to move on. Or if the work and people were enjoyable, he’d stay around longer. But he was always restless. While he never found a place to put down roots, he hadn’t really been looking for that. In fact, he hadn’t been looking for anything.
And being with the Bodens had helped him figure out why. It was because he already knew what he wanted.
His brothers.
His family.
His home.
He wished Sadie wanted to hear about his home.
Instead she was breathless about Meseta Blanca. She wanted to see it. She seemed to want to see everything.
She was as good as locked into her ranch house for the next year, and when Heath left, he wanted to go back to Rawhide.
It occurred to him then that a curious woman—and Sadie seemed to be real curious all of a sudden—just might be interested in Julia’s Cavern. He had to think about how best to broach that subject. Maybe talk of its wonders? Explain more about how he’d learned to climb rocks?
Maybe he could convince Sadie to want to go there to see the cavern. As they rode along in the dusk, he wished he could hold her hand and speak of the wonders of home and encourage her curiosity in that direction. But he had to say it all just right, and despite the perfect setting of this ride, he hadn’t thought it out properly. He needed more time. So he decided to change the subject.
“Sadie, did your grandfather’s foreman really search for his killer for the rest of his life?”
“No, not all his life. Sarge was Rosita’s father, so he’d return often and stay, sometimes for years. But then he’d hear a rumor about Ramone and off he’d go. He never quit wanting justice. And he was more than Grandfather’s foreman. They trapped together in the northern Rockies; he and Grandfather were very successful at it. They hung on to their money, while many trappers didn’t.
“Ma said Grandfather was looking for a peaceful land where he wouldn’t wind up getting killed by someone. He traveled around searching and made it as far as New Orleans. He met my grandmother there, who shared his French blood. Sarge found a wife too, but she didn’t want to leave Louisiana, so my grandparents headed west while Sarge stayed behind.
“Grandfather brought Grandmother to this area even before it was part of the United States. He found Don Bautista de Val here with a modest ranch in the middle of Pueblo, Navajo, and Apache country.” Sadie stopped and took a breath, looking as if the story was too long but she wanted to tell it all.
“Go on,” Heath said, “I’m listening. We’ve got a long ride ahead.”
With a nod, she continued, “The Don was a powerful man. Arrogant.” She glanced at Heath. “I only know stories I’ve been told, but Ma knew him and talked of him some. She said her parents never let her near him. Grandfather and the Don were unlikely partners. The Don was so arrogant that he’d set the Mexican president against him. But no one could deny all the Don’s connections. He had come north expecting to be given a Spanish Land Grant, but it wasn’t a sure thing that the grant would be forthcoming.
“Then along came my grandfather and grandmother. Something happened, and Grandfather saved the son of a high-ranking official. The president took a liking to him, but Grandfather was all wrong for a land grant. He wasn’t Mexican and he wasn’t an influential man, beyond having the president’s respect. Ma used to tell stories about him and Sarge. Old fur traders, strong, gruff, and barely civilized sometimes, but still fine men. Somehow Grandfather and the Don teamed up. It was the partnership that earned them the grant. Grandfather with his courage and heroism, the Don with his connections. Grandfather had to become a Mexican citizen; up until then he’d been Canadian and American. Switching again in exchange for a few hundred thousand acres wasn’t one bit hard.”
“So they got the grant,” Heath said.
“Yep,” Sadie replied. “And then Sarge’s wife died giving birth to their fir
st child. He left the city and found Grandfather and his massive landholding. Sarge became foreman, but soon he was like family. More a partner than a hired hand. Pa always saw it that way, except there was no way to get Sarge a legal stake in the land. He didn’t seem to mind. They called it the de Val-Chastain land grant. You’ve heard how when the Mexicans ceded this land to America, there was trouble and the Don went home in a fury. Well, Grandfather became American and kept half the grant. There was now a New Mexico Territory, and the governor took the other half. And for a while he seemed content with that.”
Heath said, “And when he wasn’t content any longer, that’s when your grandfather met the thoroughly American Chance Boden.”
“That’s right. Along came Pa, as American as the Mayflower and the Boston Tea Party all wrapped up together. He hadn’t been here long when Grandfather got shot and was dying. He demanded my pa marry my ma in order to save the ranch. Grandfather refused to tell anyone who’d shot him, though it was clear he knew. We found out about Ramone’s connection to the old Don right after the murder.”
“He was de Val’s son with the Pueblo woman?”
“Yep, and Ramone ran off as Grandfather lay dying. To many, it was as good as a confession. Grandfather didn’t want his killer caught and said it would put anyone hunting the man in too much danger. And with the land now in fully American hands, he believed there wouldn’t be another attack.”
“And now you think Ramone is back?”
“Well, he killed before.”
“Maybe, but . . .” Heath said absently.
“You don’t believe it?”
Heath shrugged. “You don’t know for certain if Ramone killed him. You said your grandfather was having trouble with the governor, didn’t you?”
“Yes, but why would Grandfather cover for the governor?”
“To send you after the governor’s man would put you in terrible danger. He might have believed he secured the land, then kept his secret to protect your ma. You said all his thoughts were for her and getting her married—that all fits with protecting her.”
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