The younger man grinned. “What you mean by that, ol’ man?”
“Why, here you got Simeon Turley who makes some damned fine lightning, I must say. And you got this fella Asa Estes comes by your shindig with his famous eggnog,” Scratch explained. “It’s plain to see that you’re a man who has some fine friends. Friends who sure as hell hold you in high regard, son.”
Laying his long, muscular arm over the shorter man’s shoulder, Josiah spoke close to Bass’s ear. “If there’s one man—one friend—who taught me the real value of friendship, who taught me that my family and my friends were my true wealth in life … then you are that man, Titus Bass.”
He looked up at Paddock, his own eyes clouding with sentiment. “Damn, if you don’t know how to make a man proud.”
“Cornelio, c’mon over here and meet a friend of mine from way, way up north,” Josiah called out.
A thin-boned, dark-skinned Mexican stepped over, and Scratch recognized him for the man who had helped Asa Estes carry the kettle into the house.
“This here’s a good friend of mine, Cornelio Vigil,” Josiah announced. “And this is Titus Bass.”
Scratch held out his hand and said, “Good to meet any friend of Josiah’s, Señor Vigil.”
“Please to call me Cornelio,” the man replied. “We are friends now too.”
They shook as Paddock went on to explain, “Cornelio was appointed as our district attorney by General Kearny.”
“Sounds like you got handed a tough job,” Bass commented. “Bet it keeps you busy nowadays, bringing justice down on all them folks gonna cause trouble for the new American officials?”
Vigil grinned slightly. “Some of my people still haven’t made the adjustment, Señor Bass. To their way of thinking, if they can stir up enough trouble, they can throw the Americans out.”
“Throw Americans out?” Titus echoed. “Josiah, how can any of these Mexicans down here think they got ’em a better life under Armijo and his government than they got under the Americans?”
“Truth is,” Paddock began, his voice growing quiet and confidential, “Governor Bent’s folks heard tell of a plot to stir up some big trouble—a well-planned revolt of Indians and Mexicans too.”
Vigil nodded. “Earlier in the month, Señor Bass.”
Titus asked, “What come of it?”
The new district attorney answered, “Soon as word leaked out that Bent was coming to arrest them, the two ringleaders vamoosed. Rumor says both of them scampered south into Mexico for safer territory, fast as their horses could carry them.”
“So news has it the governor’s relieved he was able to cut the head off that rebellious snake before it had the chance to bite anyone and hurt some innocent folks,” Josiah declared.
“From all that Stephen and I hear from our informers around town, everything has settled down in the last two weeks,” Vigil explained. “With both of those revolt ringleaders long gone from these parts, life here in Taos has gone back to being just the way it always has been: peaceful and sleepy.”
“Did Charles Beaubien come up from Santa Fe for New Year’s?” Josiah asked Vigil.
“No, he stayed down at the capital,” Cornelio answered. “I think he really savors playing judge more than he should.”
“Beaubien’s an old Frenchie trapper,” Paddock explained to Titus. “Appointed by Kearny to serve as one of the three judges on the Santa Fe court. His teenage son is right over there—”
Bass let Josiah turn him slightly as Paddock pointed out the handsome young man. His eyes immediately widened and his nostrils flared. Angrily he asked, “You mean that parley-voo spooning my Magpie over there in the corner?”
“That’s him. Narciso Beaubien,” Josiah replied. “He’s a good lad. Seems to have a fine eye for a pretty girl too.”
Titus could feel the heat climbing from his neck into his beard. “I figger that good lad needs to know he better damn well stay away from my li’l girl—”
“Hol’ on, Scratch,” Paddock warned as he snagged hold of Titus’s arm, stopping the trapper in place. “Lemme go and tell him myself. We’re both fathers—you an’ me—but it might be better if I do this for you. That way it won’t embarrass Magpie in front of anyone.”
Scratch was surprised at how quickly he had been ready to boil. Never before had he seen any young man give his daughter a second look. But as he gazed at her now, he realized for the very first time that she really did appear far older than her twelve and a half years. She was already blooming into quite a beautiful woman … just like her mother.
“Awright,” Titus relented. “You just tell that boy her papa’s gonna gut him with the backside of a rusty file if I ever catch him sniffing round her anymore,” Bass demanded in a growl. “Go remind ’im she’s only twelve years old.”
“Hol’ on, hol’ on,” Paddock soothed, patting both of his open palms against Scratch’s chest. “Maybe them talking is all innocent and nothing to fret over, Scratch. Sometimes you got a real quick temper.”
“Me?” he grumbled, his eyes locked on the pair of youngsters flirting across the room. “A quick temper?”
“Seems I remember a winter—long time ago, after we brung back McAfferty’s hair—in a instant you convinced yourself Waits had wronged you and I was the one who betrayed you with her.”
Slowly his eyes came back to Josiah’s now, and blinked self-consciously with deep regret. “I … I never should’ve figured either of you’d go and wrong me. I allays been sorry—”
“I don’t expect another apology, Scratch. I only want you to hol’ on a minute and let me go over there ’stead of you,” Paddock offered again. “I’ll take care of this quiet.”
He watched Josiah turn away, threading his way through the crowd to reach the two youngsters. It was but a matter of moments before Magpie’s eyes suddenly flicked in his direction and locked on her father’s angry glare across the room. She quickly averted her gaze and stared down at the clay floor, just before the young man turned his head to look over Paddock’s shoulder, studying the room a moment before he located the gray-headed trapper who was glaring a hole into him like a hot poker.
The young man protectively glanced at Magpie, then stared down at the exact same spot she was studying between their toes. Josiah put a hand on the girl’s shoulder a moment, then she stepped around his elbow and started along the edge of the room, making for the kitchen. With Magpie on her way, Paddock looped his left arm over the young man’s shoulders and they turned together, inching into the crowd toward that spot where Bass and Vigil stood watching it all.
“Narciso, I want you to meet Magpie’s father, Titus Bass,” Josiah introduced.
Beaubien self-consciously held up a hand between them. “My apologies, Mr. Bass. I had no intention of giving anyone the wrong impression, especially your daughter. I was not … I didn’t know she was so young, sir. I apologize profusely. I hope you can understand just how pretty a girl she is—and understand that she looks much older. I’m extremely chagrined at my mistake—”
“Sha … sha?”
“I’m very, very embarrassed, sir,” Beaubien admitted.
“You talk like you’ve got a helluva lot more education than most every man in this room, son,” Titus declared.
“I’ve been east, to the States, at college, Mr. Bass. I clearly should have known better. I meant no trouble to you or to Magpie. When I arrived, I quickly realized she was one of the few guests of my own age here—so I naturally went over to introduce myself and engage her in conversation. I thought it would be polite to welcome her to the Taos valley—”
“You apologized enough, son,” Scratch interrupted with a sigh. “I’m sure my daughter enjoyed your flattery.”
“I meant no harm by talking to her—”
“No offense taken,” Bass replied. “Now that I understand.” He looked at Josiah. “The Mex folks, don’t they have a custom of chaperons?”
Paddock’s face brightened. “They surely do, Scrat
ch.”
Titus turned back to the young man. “If you wish to talk to. my daughter, please do it when her mama’s around—like in the kitchen there, with the both of ’em together.”
“Oh, no, sir—she’s too … far too young for me to consider courting,” Beaubien explained. “I’d have to wait three or four years until I would court your daughter.”
“You’ll have to ride a long, long ways to do that in three or four years, young fella,” Titus stated.
Beaubien said, “I don’t understand, sir. Don’t you plan on making Taos your new home now that this territory belongs to America?”
With a wag of his head, Titus declared, “No. Soon as winter’s done, I’ll be taking my family back where we belong.”
In that heavy silence, Beaubien nervously presented his hand to Bass again. “It was a pleasure to meet you, sir. I’m sorry for the misunderstanding with your daughter.”
Scratch watched the young man shoulder his way into the crowd, headed for another part of the house.
Grabbing Titus’s upper arm, Josiah said, “All that just made me remember something I should have told you before you rode off from Taos years ago.”
“What’s that?”
Paddock confessed, “When I look back on our years together, I remember you showing me how I was angry at everything and everybody. What you taught me was I could trust someone again, ol’ man. If I hadn’t learned to trust—truth is, I’d been dead inside of a few weeks of when I run onto you.”
“You was a hardy lad,” Bass said, feeling a bit self-conscious himself. “Chances were, you’d made your way without me—”
“No,” Josiah interrupted in protest, leaning his face close. “Don’t you see what I owe you, ol’ man? If you hadn’t helped me sort through all that drove me from Saint Louis, if you hadn’t taken me back there with you to face up to what I’d done—likely I wouldn’t be standing here today … wouldn’t have the life I do for my family.”
Patting the younger man on that spot where his neck met the muscular shoulder, Titus said quietly, “Maybeso, in your own way, Josiah—you helped save my life too.”
30
Neither one of the two men proved good at concealing the worry hewed on their faces as Scratch stepped through the door of Josiah’s shop.
“Troubles?” Titus asked the moment he joined Paddock and Stephen Louis Lee.
Josiah began, “Naw, nothing really—”
“Listen, son,” Bass interrupted impatiently. “You and me didn’t spend all those seasons together for me not to read what’s on your face, so g’won and spill it.”
“Really, Mr. Bass—it’s nothing to concern yourself with,” Lee apologized.
“Beggin’ your pardon, Sheriff—but if it’s something sticks in Josiah Paddock’s craw … it damn well is my business. Two of us go back a long way—”
“All right, Scratch,” Paddock whispered. “Let’s go find us a spot in the back to talk. I don’t want to do nothing to upset Looks Far. So don’t either of you go looking like you just ate some bad apples.”
“Hell, Josiah—you’re the one got the hangdog face,” Bass whispered as they started toward the curtain behind one end of the long plank counter.
Paddock made sure they were out of earshot from the partition before he grimaced at the sheriff and asked in a whisper, “The Pueblos are making tough noises?”
Lee nodded his head. “I heard something the Injuns didn’t think I was s’pose to hear early this morning. Last few days they’ve had some bad sorts out there, fellas rousing ’em up.”
“But that ain’t nothing new,” Josiah replied.
“For the first time they’ve put a day on it,” Lee admitted. “A night when they’re gonna raise hell.”
For the first time Titus spoke up, “What you mean—raise hell, Sheriff?”
Lee looked at him. “Talk is—those plans Bent broke up last month is on again.”
Scratch shook his head. “I thought you fellas told me the leaders of their little rebellion awready skeedaddled off to Mexico.”
“They did,” Paddock answered, glum.
Bass looked at him. “Then they sneaked back to the Pueblo?”
“No,” Lee said. “Word I got is some new leaders gonna lead the attack.”
“Attack?” Bass echoed. “Attack what? March down to Santa Fee and have ’em a fight with those dragoons?”
“These are bad Mexicans and even badder Pueblos,” Josiah admitted sourly. “But they’re savvy enough not to do something stupid, Scratch. This bunch ain’t about to march down to Santa Fe and tangle with Colonel Price’s soldiers.”
For a long, still moment, Titus looked at Paddock, then Lee, then back to Paddock again. “So, if these niggers gonna attack … what they fixin’ to attack?”
“Taos,” Lee confessed.
Bass snorted, “But there ain’t no army here for ’em to fight. What the hell these niggers thinking of …” And his heart skipped a beat as it struck him cold in the pit of his belly. “Oh, shit.”
Josiah could tell that it had suddenly registered on the old trapper’s face. “This bunch of butchers aren’t the sort to wanna have nothing like a fair, stand-up fight of it.”
Lee agreed, “These Mex and Pueblos are nothing more’n dirty fighters. Downright backstabbers. I figure they’re planning to make it a massacre.”
“When the bastards come after Americans,” Titus declared, “we’ll be ready for ’em.”
“With your own eyes, Scratch,” Josiah argued, “you’ve seen there ain’t but a few of us Americans in Taos.”
“Those niggers gonna butcher anyone who ain’t Mexican or Injun,” Lee snarled. “What I hear says they even got their blood up to kill half-breeds: Mex or Injun, don’t make ’em any difference.”
Titus looked long and steady at Paddock. Then he said, “Bein’ half-breed don’t count for nothing with ’em, eh?”
Paddock wagged his head. “We seen this coming for some time now, ol’ friend. So trust me when we’re telling you, these murderers gonna butcher my half-breed children right after they slit my throat.”
Scratch could feel the bitter gall rising at the back of his throat, turning his heart sour and mean. “Any nigger makes war on women and children—they’re no better’n animals.” He turned to Lee and asked, “So, Sheriff, you here to spread the word to Americans?”
“Came here to talk with Josiah. I want his help figuring out how not to alert the bastards that we know what’s coming, or when,” Lee responded.
“When?” Paddock asked.
“Tonight,” the sheriff disclosed with foreboding. “Tomorrow morning by the latest. They was just waiting for Bent to get in from Santa Fe.”
Josiah asked in a whisper, “Charles back? In all this snow?”
“Got home near noon,” Lee explained. “Took ’im four days up from Santa Fe, deep as it is out there.”
“You tell the governor, Stephen?” Josiah demanded.
“Tried to. You know how Charles is. He says he’s married to a good Mexican family. Says his children are part Mexican. And when he’s done saying all that— Charles tells me he’s always been good to folks in these parts—”
“In other words, the governor doesn’t believe there’s any real danger to him or his family,” Paddock interrupted him.
With a doleful wag of his head, Lee said, “He didn’t figure there was anything to worry about since he scared off the other ringleaders last month. Says all that’s going on now is a lot of loud and angry talk.”
“So what you figger us to do?” Titus asked, his wary senses tingling.
“I think it best we get on through this day till sundown when we close up shop, real normal,” Josiah explained. “We try to light out before, any time in the day, we’re bound to attract attention.”
“They’ll know where you’re going,” Lee added. “So they’ll come track you down.”
“I’ll give ’em a chance to track me down, I will for certain,�
� Bass growled.
“Don’t you see?” Paddock asked, seizing Bass’s forearm in his hand. “There’s hundreds of ’em all together. It won’t be nothing like a fair fight, Scratch. Like nothing you and me ever fought our way out of.”
“By the stars, there’s more’n a thousand souls living in that Injun Pueblo a couple miles from here,” Lee stated. “A thousand of the niggers!”
Titus swallowed. “So sneaking off is our only hope?”
Paddock looked at Lee. “You think folks oughtta head north?”
The sheriff nodded. “Maybe hole up at Turley’s till someone can get word down to Santa Fe and Price can march his dragoons up here.”
“Even then, them soldiers still gonna be outnumbered ten to one,” Josiah groaned.
“Maybe the most we can hope is they’ll scare the shit outta the bastards,” the sheriff said.
Paddock quickly stepped to the low, narrow, back door that opened onto an alleyway. He cracked it slightly, peered out for a moment, then shut it again quietly. “Don’t have long till sundown, fellas. I think we better start working on getting things ready to head out come dark. Where do you want us to meet up with you, Stephen?”
Lee wagged his head stoically. “I ain’t going with you, Josiah.”
“I know Maria ain’t in no danger,” Paddock begged, “but what about li’l John?”
Titus agreed, “He’s a half-breed.”
“So he’s marked for death,” Josiah argued. “If your wife doesn’t wanna come, then at least get the boy to safety.”
“He won’t go without his mama. So I’ll bring the two of ’em over to your place just after dark,” Lee promised as he stepped to the back door.
“And you?” Josiah prodded. “What you aim to do, one man against a bloodthirsty mob?”
“I’m gonna make sure every American, parley-voo, and foreign-born gets word that they better make tracks outta town tonight … or they won’t see another sunrise,” the sheriff declared solemnly.
“Spread the word. You’ll still have time to come leave with us,” Paddock begged.
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