“Good chance for us,” Felicita said. “Without you, we probably would have been found.”
“Almost certainly,” Brett said. “Once they learned you folks hadn’t shown up anywhere, they’d have figured like I did and started looking closer in. Even if you got Jerome up on a horse, he wouldn’t have been able to ride point and find you a good route like he’d been.”
“Then God was looking out for us,” Felicita said.
Long buried anger surged up, anger Brett hadn’t admitted to for years. His hands wrapped around the top rail of the goat enclosure so tightly that he felt the wood creak.
“God looking out for you! How can you say that? You lost two children to an illness that would have kept them in bed a few days before. If they caught something really bad, they could have gone to the hospital, been put on fluids. You’d still have them . . .”
“Maybe,” Felicita said, carefully, as if she were trying to convince herself. “Maybe not. We cannot read the future. Maybe humanity needed to learn a lesson.”
Brett heard her pain, but his bottled-up anger had a life of its own. “What about all the nonhumans who died? I worked part-time in a pet shop, before. Do you know what happens to tropical fish when the power fails and the back-up generators don’t come on? Even goldfish can’t live once the pumps are off too long. March gets damn cold here, especially at night. Do you know what happens to little animals that don’t have heat? Do you know what happens to animals that need a special diet? They start dying, slowly and painfully. Do you know what we had to do when we realized that the power wasn’t coming back?”
Even in the moonlight, he could see Felicita’s eyes widen and knew that she did. He didn’t spare her—or maybe he wasn’t sparing himself.
“We killed them. All those little creatures who trusted us, who looked up with big eyes when we came over because we were the ones who fed them and fussed over them. We killed them. And what did they ever do to deserve that?”
“You gave them mercy.”
“I killed them. Me, because I knew how to do it cleanly. I sang the songs Grandfather Nathan had taught us, but still, I killed them. Birds, chinchillas, hedgehogs, guinea pigs, sugar gliders, exotic reptiles, all the creatures who couldn’t hope to live because it was cold and the food they needed would never arrive. We waited a week, a week too long. They were already beginning to suffer.”
“Oh, Brett . . .” The pity was real. So was the wisdom in her dark eyes. “But that wasn’t all, was it?”
“I’d worked part-time at the pet store. My other job was at my family’s business: the Cloverleaf, a restaurant and Irish tavern.”
He laughed, a hard, barking sound. “It actually did pretty well. Lots of tourists get sick of everything with green chili and tortillas. My parents didn’t believe that things wouldn’t get ‘right’ again. I tried to tell them, tried to get them away, but they kept talking about this blackout or that storm. Never mind that planes didn’t fall out of the sky during those. Never mind that every engine didn’t stop working.
“My parents weren’t dumb. They knew that any place with liquor would attract looters. So they brought people in to help hold the building. They used their supplies—they had extra because this all happened on Saint Patrick’s Day—to set up a sort of soup kitchen, feeding people in return for wood or additional food. They fed a lot of people who didn’t bring anything.
“The day after the pet store . . . closed, I left to go pick up some donations. Sacks of beans, I think. I got back after dark. The place was still—and it was never that way. Even at night, someone was up cooking or keeping watch. I went in the back way, lit a candle . . . They’d all been murdered: Mom and Dad, my younger brother and sister, my older sister and her kids, who had come back to be ‘safe.’ Her husband. Old man Seamus, who’d bartended for as long as anyone could remember, was behind the bar. Someone had slashed his throat. They’d walked on his body to break down the door to the liquor cellar.
“As I went through, looking for anyone who might still be alive, I realized that some of the neighbors who’d been given a refuge weren’t there. I think they did it. At the very least, they ran, didn’t do anything to stop the people who did.
“I found the Pomeranian puppy I’d given my mother for her birthday hiding under a table, too scared to even whimper. He was the only thing alive. I grabbed him and walked out of there. I had Little Warrior and Pintada with me. I went back to the house and started getting what I needed to make it on my own. I packed the family cats into carriers and strapped them onto Pintada. Left the damn beans. Whistled up Xenophon and another of the dogs—she’s dead now. We got out of there while it was still dark. Headed for the malpais. Here. I didn’t come out until September. Realized I’d need supplies for winter. Figured Acoma would have held out and I was right.”
“How old were you?”
“Twenty-two. I’d graduated from college the year before and had been trying to figure out what to do with a B.S. in Biology and a minor in Anthropology.”
“And now? Have you been alone all this time?”
“Mostly. I go to Acoma a few times a year to trade. Once I got the chickens and goats, I was pretty self-sufficient. I’d grabbed seed packets when I left Grants. My mom and I were going to start plants from seed that next weekend. I knew how to save seed, to tan leather, dry meat and vegetables. Lately, I’ve been making boots and sandals soled with old tires. The shopkeeper in Acoma saves me tire tread if I give him first shot at what I’ve made. Works.”
“Aren’t you lonely?”
“I’ve the horses, dogs, cats, goats, chickens. Some ducks flew over and decided to stay. Then there’re the animals who come through with the seasons. That’s enough.”
“But you came out to save us.”
“I owed Emilio.”
“So you said . . . And now we have invaded your refuge.”
“For now. We’re going to have to get you out of here.”
“Yes, even with the big pasture out in back, there’s not enough to support us all.”
“Not just that,” Brett said. “You ran away so you could make a life for your children. This here isn’t a life for them.”
It’s hardly even, he thought, a life for me.
* * *
When Brett returned from scouting early the next morning, he could tell that Felicita had shared his story. He was glad. He didn’t want to tell it again and, from their expressions, he could tell no one was going to ask questions. His guests had taken care of the milking, egg gathering, and picking vegetables. Breakfast was waiting for him. As he ate, he called the adults in for a counsel.
“No sign of anyone near. That’s good. Jerome needs a chance to mend a bit before we even think about having him ride.”
There, Brett thought. I’ve reassured them that I’m not interested in moving them along anytime soon. Now for the hard part.
“I’ve been thinking over what Felicita told me last night, about why you folks decided to leave the Double A. I was wondering if you wanted to try and put a hobble on how Annabella and Andy think they can treat people.”
From the way their eyes brightened, the Gallardos and Murchinsons were indeed interested. That was reassuring. He’d thought they might just care about getting away—and with six kids, that would be sensible.
“Here’s how I see it,” Brett went on. “La Padrona values two things: her control of the ranch and her son. Andy values himself pretty highly, too. So how about we arrange to acquire Andy? After all, if she can keep slaves, so can other people. Might help her see her behavior in another light.”
Winna wrinkled her nose. “I don’t want to keep any sort of slaves, especially not that tomcat.”
“I didn’t think you would, but it’s funny how often people believe that everyone is like them. La Padrona will believe it and that’s what matters.”
“So,�
�� Emilio asked, “how do we catch him? He’s not going to be alone.”
“We set a trap.” Brett dipped the tip of one finger in his mug and drew a few lines on the table. “This is a rough outline of the malpais. This space here is what’s called a ‘kipuka’—an island. In the day, it was called Hole in the Wall.”
“Like Butch Cassidy?” asked Jerome, just as Brett and Leo had all those years before.
“Same name, different place. This Hole in the Wall is some six thousand acres of grassland and trees, surrounded on all sides by the lava flow. The easiest way to get into it is on the south side of the malpais. The lava is only three miles wide there and there’s an old trail in. As hikes in the malpais go, it’s an easy one. Thing is, you really shouldn’t ride in. The lava’s dangerous footing for horses. That’s going to cut down on Andy’s troops right there. Unless cowboys have changed a lot these past three years, they’ll do just about anything unless they have to get off a horse to do it.”
Emilio flashed a grin. “That hasn’t changed. Gotten worse if anything. Man on a horse is somebody. Man walking’s just a peon.”
“So we make it look as if you folks decided to head into Hole in the Wall. Why not? It’s close. There’s water, game, even the means to build shelter. Probably the reason no one ever settled in there is the isolation. But for people who want to hide out, it would be a good choice.”
“What about our horses?” Emilio asked. “They’ll know we had horses.”
“If you don’t mind,” Brett said, “I was going to ask if I could turn a couple loose in the right area—sort of place us. They’ll figure you turned them loose when you couldn’t take them into the malpais.”
“Nice,” Jerome said. “Take that son of a storm cloud that threw me. Puff’s bad-tempered enough that anything short of a mountain lion won’t be able to faze him.”
“They’re all pretty tough,” Emilio agreed. “They might even head back for the ranch—or if they scent horses they know, they may join them. Either way, they’ll help point the Double A riders where we want them.”
“Good thought,” Brett said. “Now, remember. Our plan is to grab Andy. We’re not looking for a fight.”
Winna frowned. “If we’re not going to keep Andy as a slave, then what are we going to do with him?”
“Use him to make this whole thing public. When La Padrona complains that we kidnapped her kid, you folks can explain why.”
“Who would listen?”
“I think plenty of people,” Brett said. “Grandfather Nathan gave me the impression that Acoma wasn’t happy about her hunting after you. Even the other ranchers might not be thrilled. Once humans start using other humans as property, it sets a dangerous precedent.”
He was pushing back his chair and grabbing his hat, planning to leave the others to confer in decent privacy, when the door was flung open. Rosamaria strode in, shutting the door firmly behind her.
“I listened,” she said defiantly. “The window was open. I want to help.”
Felicita said, “You will, mija. Someone’s got to watch over the children. I don’t think Carl’s up to keeping them in line, especially since they’re his brother and sisters.”
“Aunt Winna should,” Rosamaria said. “Anyhow, she’d be best to take care of Uncle Jerome. He’s being a hero but, even with his leg set, he’s got to hurt a lot. I held the basin while Aunt Winna washed him and he’s all over bruises.”
Brett considered. Rosamaria had already shown herself tough and stubborn. And Andy was a whole lot more likely to be dumb if he caught a glimpse of his prey, but Brett kept his thoughts to himself. This had to be between the kid and her folks.
Rosamaria continued, her voice sinking to a fierce whisper. “You think I don’t know why we left Double A, but I’m not dumb and I’m not just a kid. Valerie was my friend and I know what Andy did to her. She told me and she cried because he kept doing it. A couple times he’s come up to me, right in public, and said things about the nice big present he has for me on my birthday.”
“Oh!” Felicita’s soft gasp was pure pain. Emilio’s expression was grim. Winna and Jerome looked uneasy.
Brett continued his interrupted departure. “You folks’ll talk better without me listening, but I’ll say one thing. Think about what she said.”
The refugees resolved matters faster than Brett had dared hope. The Gallardo family would be backing Brett in Hole in the Wall. The Murchinsons would remain behind. It hadn’t been an easy choice for anyone, but Brett was coming to see that lately these folks had made enough hard choices that one more didn’t come as hard as it might have.
Even so, by the time they finished their confab, the day was already getting hot and midday was no time to cross the black rock of the malpais.
In the distance, thunderheads were building up, promising a storm to match that of the day before. First, Brett briefed Jerome and Winna on the various security precautions he’d made. Next he taught them the commands to work with Fida and Rover. Then he went out to set the decoy horses loose.
The afternoon rains came a touch earlier than the day before. “We’ll go now,” he said, when the worst of the storm had rolled passed.
Winna accepted baby Ignacio from Felicita. Both women’s eyes were bright with tears, but neither admitted how scared they were.
Brett found a grin. “Don’t you worry, Ms. Winna. I’ve got a few tricks to make sure Andy and his posse come right where we want ’em. Help yourself to whatever’s in the garden and stores. We might not be back for supper, but with any luck you’ll see us by this time tomorrow.”
On the western side of the back thirty, Brett pulled a pueblo-style ladder from where he’d stowed it in a cleft in the rock. As he checked the lashings that held the crosspieces in place, Brett talked to ease the sudden tense expectancy.
“Thirty acres is a good pasture, but it isn’t enough to support my horses through the winter. I’ve been cutting hay in Hole in the Wall since my first year.”
Emilio raised his bushy eyebrows. “Hard work, that.”
Brett shrugged. “Grass there’s belly high on a tall horse, just like when the European’s first came to this part of the world. It hasn’t been overgrazed like so many other places around here. When the weeds got out of control at my parents’ house, we’d have to cut ’em by hand, so I know how to use a scythe. I didn’t want to always go the long way around, though, so I scouted a shorter way over the malpais. That’s what we’re taking.
“I’ll point out my trail markers as we go,” Brett continued as he led the way up the first ladder. “If we get separated, look for them. Don’t trust your compasses. There’s enough iron ore in the malpais to screw them up. My trail weaves about a bit, but there’s a reason. All lava isn’t the same. Aa will chew your boots to shreds. Pahoehoe gives better footing, but still can be tricky. Some of the basalt offers pretty good walking, other times a block that looks stable might wobble so you turn an ankle. I’ve filled in a couple of crevices, to make the route a touch more direct. Miss my bridges and you’re going to have to go a long way around.”
Rosamaria followed him up the ladder. “Those words—pah-hoy-hoy and ah-ah and kipuka—are they Indian words?”
“Hawaiian,” Brett said, getting out the second ladder and setting it in place. “Their words for things you find in lava flows became sort of common currency. Even Grandfather Nathan uses them.”
Brett climbed the second ladder, then looked down to check the others’ progress. “Emilio, gloves on. I know it’s hot, but if you grab the wrong rock, or stumble and tear up your hands, you’re going to be no good to your wife and daughter.”
When Brett checked at the top of the third ladder, he saw that Emilio had complied. All of them wore clothing that would blend into the reddish browns and blacks of the surrounding terrain. All wore broad-brimmed hats. Long hair—his own included—was tightly brai
ded, so as not to get in the way. Each wore a bulky pack, topped with a rolled tarp.
As always when he emerged from within the kipuka’s surrounding walls, Brett felt like a bug on a tabletop. The sense of being exposed was an illusion. The lava field was far from smooth. Although barren compared to the surrounding forested plains, it was not without vegetation—including trees. Slender aspen grew alongside scrubby piñon and juniper. There were ponderosa pines, Douglas fir, and rough barked alligator juniper. Vegetation tended to be widely scattered, taking advantage of moisture invisible to human or animal. Combined with erratic upthrusts of broken stone, there was ample cover.
Though Brett set a stiff pace, the Gallardos kept up with him. The rain had finished by the time they came to Brett’s personal entry into Hole in the Wall.
“There’re remnants of an old road over west,” Brett said, waving a hand in the general direction. “We’ll set our trap closer to that. Once we’re down, you can take off your gloves, but keep a watch out for cactus and the like.”
He saw Rosamaria roll her eyes.
“I know you’ve lived in New Mexico all your lives, but I’m just doing my job.”
She flashed him a smile, part-embarrassed, completely amused. “Sorry.”
After hiking over the uncertain footing of the malpais, the relatively regular footing down in the kipuka’s grasslands made the next part of their journey seem easy. Eventually, they came to where the old trail in from the malpais merged into thick grass interspersed with scattered trees.
A denser copse of trees grew slightly west of the trail, near where a narrow streamlet augmented by runoff provided encouragement to vegetation.
Brett pointed to the copse. “I was thinking we should set up ‘camp’ there. Do you think we need to go farther in?”
Tales of Downfall and Rebirth Page 54