by Dale Cramer
“You are loco!” Domingo said, pointing. “The men in that church came here to kill us. Did you think they would not shoot at you?”
Caleb ignored him, turning to the half-dozen soldiers who stood gaping at him in confusion. They wore brown uniforms with a thick belt on top of their shirts, and flat-top military caps. Apart from that, and the leather shoes on their feet in place of sandals, they looked nearly as ragged and desperate as the bandits.
“Who is in charge here?”
One of the federales stepped forward, bowed slightly and tipped his cap. A short hawk-faced man with a pencil-thin mustache, his dull brown tunic bore markings and medals the others didn’t have, though Caleb didn’t know what any of them meant.
“Capitán Soto, at your service.” The captain waved casually at the open ground Caleb had just crossed and added, “I must say I agree with your young friend. You are indeed loco, Señor . . .”
“Bender. Caleb Bender. Captain Soto, you must stop your men from shooting the wounded. It is murder, plain and simple. I am the one who sent for you, but I would never have done it if I knew your men were going to slaughter people like pigs. I will not tolerate—”
“Tolerate? You will not tolerate?” Soto took a step closer and his eyes narrowed. “You have an American accent. You are not even Mexican, Señor Bender. I was told the haciendado sent for us, but it does not matter. I answer to my commander, and he to his, all the way up to el presidente himself. We do not take orders from the haciendado, and certainly not from some gringo. My job is to kill bandits. I think you should go hide someplace and let me do my job.”
One of the soldiers peeked around the corner the whole time, keeping watch on the front of the church. Now he turned to Captain Soto and said, “Capitán, they are waving a white flag.”
Soto turned his back on Caleb, straightened his tunic and stepped out from the corner to see for himself. He looked back at Domingo and snapped his fingers.
“You—come here.”
Domingo and Caleb both stepped out to where they could see the church. A handkerchief fluttered in the crack of the door, and a head protruded. There was a skullcap on the back of his head.
“Who is this man?” Soto asked.
“Father Noceda,” Domingo answered. “The parish priest, and a good man. He must have been trapped in the church when the bandits took it.”
Soto cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted, “What do you want, priest?”
The door opened a little wider and Father Noceda stepped out, dressed in the full cassock he’d worn for the wedding.
“These men have requested sanctuary,” he shouted back, “and I must grant it to them. You must not attack this building. It is God’s house.”
Captain Soto shot a sarcastic glance at his clutch of officers and they broke into quiet laughter, shaking their heads.
He shouted back, “You are mistaken, priest. Things have changed. Perhaps you have not heard that we have a new presidente. His name is Plutarco Calles, and he does not cower before your God. I am afraid even you will not find sanctuary behind your stone walls. I am hereby decommissioning your church and appropriating the building in the name of the federal government.”
Soto glanced aside at his men, chuckling. “It will make a good barracks, don’t you think? Easily defended, plenty of room, and there is even a rectory in the back for me and my lieutenants.” He turned his attention back to Father Noceda. “I will give you one minute to make up your mind whose side you are on, priest. After that, we will treat you the same as the murdering thieves who are hiding behind your skirts.”
The priest surveyed the line of rifles pointed at him from both sides. Without another word he turned slowly and went back inside, but a few seconds later the door opened wide and he was hurled out. Noceda bounced across the portico, cassock flying, and tumbled down the front steps all the way to the bottom.
He picked himself up very slowly, retrieving his skullcap from the bottom step and dusting it off. The door creaked nearly shut before a shot came from the church door, kicking up a little cloud of dust by the priest’s feet. He jumped back and scurried away as quickly as he could to the nearest building.
The shot was enough to drive Soto back behind the wall of the store, along with Domingo and Caleb.
Captain Soto glanced at Domingo. “Who is their leader?”
“El Pantera.”
“El Pantera! I have heard of this man. He led a company under Pancho Villa during the Revolution. He is a fierce warrior.”
Soto stuck his head around the corner and shouted, “El Pantera! Or should I call you Captain Aguilar? It seems the panther has lost his teeth. You are surrounded. There is no escape. Will you surrender?”
A hard voice growled from the crack in the door. “Come and take me.”
“Captain Aguilar, I think maybe you have not given enough thought to your predicament. You have chosen a fine place to make your last stand, but now you are trapped between the guns of the hacienda and seventy-five federales. You cannot escape, and it would be foolish to waste the lives of my men attacking such a fortress, so it seems we are at an impasse. I am sure we could devise a way to burn the building down around you, but it’s such a pretty building and I really hate to destroy my new barracks.”
He chuckled at himself for a few seconds, and his men laughed with him.
“I think I will wait,” he shouted. “I am a very patient man, Aguilar. Without food or water you will be dead in a few days anyway, and then I will have only to burn the bodies.”
Silence. The church door closed, and remained so for a good five minutes.
One of Soto’s lieutenants grew impatient, cocked his rifle and said, “We can storm the church if you wish, my capitán. Anytime.”
Soto calmly rolled a cigarette between his fingers, licked it and stuck it in his mouth. “No,” he said as he struck a match. “No more of my men will die today. Aguilar is no fool, and he has no choice. Be patient. He will try to bargain with us.”
The raspy voice called out from the church door, “Oiga, Federale!”
Captain Soto stuck his head out and shouted, “Sí, I am still here. Have you reconsidered?”
“If we lay down our guns, will you let my men live?”
Soto smiled. “Of course! I am not a monster, Aguilar.”
But Caleb was beginning to wonder. From where he was standing he could see precious little difference between those who attacked him and those who came to defend him. Before today he could not have imagined feeling a twinge of sympathy for the bandits who killed his son.
Chapter 7
Rachel didn’t realize her father was gone until she looked out the door and saw him halfway to the gate with the stride of a man on a mission. She had no idea what angered her dat but she knew that walk, that posture. Nothing could stop him when he got like that. By the time she realized what he was doing he’d reached the gate and thrown the bar.
“Domingo!” she shouted, and pointed out her father. Domingo sprinted after him. They were both outside the gate when she heard shots fired, and the rifles on the walls thundered again. And then silence.
She and Miriam clung to each other in terror. Dat and Domingo were out there somewhere in the middle of all that shooting. The sisters held each other and began to pray.
Afraid to leave the protection of the stable, Rachel and Miriam waited by the door for what seemed like hours, watching, listening. Finally, their father walked calmly through the gate and up the hill as if nothing had happened. Rachel burst from cover and ran halfway down the hill to meet him.
“Dat, what’s happening? Where did you go?”
“I had to speak to the commander of the troops, that’s all. The battle is over. The bandits have surrendered.”
Miriam’s voice came from behind her, high-pitched, quavering. “Where is Domingo?”
“Your husband is unharmed, Miriam. The captain detained him to identify some of the bandits. Captain Soto has never seen El
Pantera’s face before.”
“I have, and I don’t care to see him again,” Rachel said. “So it’s done, then?”
“Jah, we can go home now. It’s safe.”
Miriam started toward the gate, but Caleb grabbed her arm. “Domingo will be back shortly,” he said. “You don’t want to see what’s out there right now.”
The whole family loaded onto the wagon and was starting toward the gate when Jake appeared on horseback, trotting along beside them. He reached out to touch hands with Rachel, relief written plainly in his eyes.
“Is everyone all right?” he asked.
“Jah, we are fine,” she said. She wanted to tell him about Miriam but her mother was right there, still distraught.
After they emerged from the gates into the open courtyard Rachel saw why her father had stopped Miriam from going out alone. The scene in the churchyard was horrific, bodies lying about in the dirt, soldiers lining the rooftops with rifles held at the ready. A handful of federales led a line of bandits away in chains, most of them wounded, limping. Mamm buried her face in her hands while Rachel’s sisters averted their eyes.
Halfway across the open ground between the gate and the village someone called out from the church. “You there! Come here!” One of the federales—a small sharp-featured man—beckoned to them from the portico of the church, and now she saw Domingo standing next to him. She also saw the fear and loathing in her father’s eyes as he slowly turned the wagon. Jake’s horse trotted alongside.
The wagon pulled up in front of the portico, and her dat stared hard at the soldier. “You need something from me, Captain Soto?”
The officer grinned, but there was a hollowness in it that sent a shiver up Rachel’s spine. His grin reminded her of El Pantera. The captain motioned to one of his men, who stepped inside and shoved a lanky bandit out in front of him. The prisoner’s hands were tied behind him and his head was bowed as he stumbled onto the portico, hat missing, hair hanging loose. It wasn’t until he stopped and looked up at her that she saw the long jagged scar angling down across that odd, milky eye.
El Pantera.
Terrified, even now, she shrank down behind her father. Jake reached over from his horse to brace a hand on her shoulder.
Captain Soto said, “Lo siento, but it wasn’t you I wanted, Señor Bender. I was calling to your young friend. Our horses were scattered in the fight and my men are still rounding them up, so I will borrow this one. For El Pantera. He will not need it long—only a few minutes, señor, and then you can have it back.”
Rachel flinched and her face turned deep red as she spotted a clutch of soldiers near the hacienda wall tossing a rope over the stout horizontal limb of a big oak tree. There was a noose on the end of the rope.
“You gave your word,” Dat rasped, his eyes sharp and fierce. “You promised you would let them live.”
Captain Soto shook his head, still grinning. “No, my yanqui amigo, I promised I would let his men live. Perhaps next time Captain Aguilar will choose his words more carefully.”
The captain was laughing.
“You can’t have my horse,” Jake said. “Not for that.”
But two of the federales were on him before he knew what was happening. One of them grabbed the reins while the other pulled Jake from the saddle and flung him roughly to the ground. Two others dragged El Pantera down the steps and hoisted him up into Jake’s saddle.
Jake rolled onto his back and sat up, shaking his head as if to clear it.
El Pantera glared down at him, and as soon as he steadied himself on the horse he leaned out and spit on Jake.
“Coward!” he hissed. “All these months I thought it was Domingo Zapara who murdered my guard in the barn that night, but when I confronted him a few minutes ago I saw the truth in his eyes. He was not the one. That leaves only you, you spineless worm. You won’t fight, but you will sneak up behind an unarmed man in the dark and choke him to death with a chain!”
Jake crabbed backward on the ground, eyes wide in stark terror, glancing desperately from Domingo to Rachel and back to El Pantera.
“But the guard lived!” Jake cried. “He was alive—they said so!”
As a soldier tugged on El Pantera’s reins and led him away, the bandit twisted around in his saddle and spat at Jake one more time. His gaunt face was purple with rage, cursing Jake to the last.
Jake pulled himself to his feet and grabbed the side of the wagon with both hands, his anguished eyes pleading with Rachel, imploring her to refute the bandit’s accusation.
“Rachel, tell them!”
But she couldn’t do it. She knew the truth, and she couldn’t bear the hurt in Jake’s eyes, the pain of betrayal. Rachel covered her face and wept.
Her father clucked at the horses, and she felt the wagon lurch to the left, turning away from the scene. No matter what else plagued his thoughts in that moment, her dat would never have his children bear witness to a hanging.
But Rachel raised her head and looked back. The noose was around El Pantera’s neck now, that white eye still glaring, that gravelly voice still railing at Jake.
“Stand and watch, coward! I will show you how a man dies!” El Pantera roared through gritted teeth as he spurred the horse out from under himself and swung, kicking.
Horrified, Jake sank to his knees in the dusty churchyard while Caleb drove away without looking back.
Rachel couldn’t bear it. She hid her face, but even above the rattle of harness and the rumble of wheels she could hear the faint groan and creak of that rope, the sounds of a man dying.
Domingo and his nephews finally managed to round up the carriages and horses, and the wedding party regrouped behind the church. The troops took over the church building exactly as Captain Soto had promised.
Father Noceda limped up to the party as they were helping Uncle Paco into the carriage.
“Is everyone all right?” he asked.
Miriam stared at the trickle of blood working its way down the priest’s forehead.
“Sí,” she said. “Uncle Paco is wounded, but he will survive. What will you do, now that you have no church?”
Two soldiers pulled up next to the rectory in a mule-drawn wagon full of boxes and started carrying supplies inside.
“He has no home, either,” Domingo said, laying a hand on Father Noceda’s shoulder. “Come with us, Father. We will find you a place to stay.”
“But it’s your wedding day,” Noceda protested.
“Not anymore,” Miriam said, glancing around at the carnage.
Domingo put an arm around her and smiled. “Miriam, this is our day, and I will not let El Pantera steal it from us. He has taken enough.”
She looked at herself, tugged at the sides of her wedding dress. “But there is blood on my dress—”
He lifted her chin with a finger. “You would have changed it anyway as soon as the party started. I hate to spoil Kyra’s surprise, but there are two more dresses you must wear on this day. Beautiful new dresses.”
“But look around, Domingo. Men have died here today.”
“Then we will light a candle for the souls of the dead. But life must go on, and what better way to put all this behind us? The house is already decorated, the feast prepared. I have waited all my life for this day, Cualnezqui, and so have you. In our new home we will find peace, and the joy of sharing our new life with our family.”
She stared at him for a moment until she felt herself melting under his astonishing strength.
“Sí,” she said softly, and then remembered the priest. “Will you come with us, por favor?”
The priest gazed longingly over his shoulder for a second. There were soldiers wandering in and out of his rectory, laughing, smoking, cursing.
“Sí, I might as well. I have nothing left here,” he said, and climbed into the carriage.
———
Domingo drove the lead carriage himself, since Paco was wounded. Miriam sat up front beside her husband on the driver’s seat.
As soon as they got under way Domingo leaned close and muttered, “Lo siento, Cualnezqui. I would have done anything to keep this darkness from your wedding day.”
She smiled, tightening her grip on his arm. “We are together. I am content.”
They rode along for a little ways before she asked, “Domingo, what will we do with Father Noceda? Your house is too crowded already. I wasn’t even sure where we would sleep, and now there is another.”
He grinned. “I was going to save the surprise for later, but now I think it is best to go ahead and tell you. Over the winter my nephews made bricks, and in the evenings I built you a house. It is only two rooms, but big enough . . . for now.”
Warmth flushed through her and she blushed, knowing what he meant.
“I know how to make bricks, too,” she said. “When the time comes that we need to add on, we will do it together. Together, we can do anything.”
Shocked speechless by all she had witnessed, Rachel didn’t say a word all the way home. Her father pulled up to the corral, stopped, and just sat there for a minute, watching smoke rise from the ruins of Levi’s barn a quarter mile to the west.
“Harvey, leave the wagon hitched and wait here. You and me will be going to Levi’s shortly.” He set the brake and climbed down from the wagon. “Rachel, come with me.”
She followed her dat without a word, head down, past the corral and up the ridge, almost to the tree line. This was about Jake, and she knew it. She’d seen her dat’s wheels turning as he pieced it all together during the ride home. He knew she had lied to him. Trailing along in her father’s footsteps as he trudged up the steep face of the ridge she couldn’t help thinking of Isaac, following Abraham.