Allegiance

  "Tío Domingo should have gotten away!” Rosa's voice broke. “But he refused to leave the women and children without defense. The federales said they wanted him and Raul. If they did not surrender, they would bring a cannon. Everyone at the rancho would be killed."

  Outraged anger swept through Amy. “Pérez is a monster! If he disbanded his troops for lack of funds, how does he continue to harass people?"

  "He must keep enough with him to carry out his personal business.” The girl's voice was bitter. “I suspect these soldiers are serving the Customs Inspector. That fat capitán Gutierrez was with them."

  Amy's heart ached for Rosa and her family. “I'm so sorry about what happened. They gave themselves up, didn't they, your uncle and brother?"

  Rosa's face crumpled. “Yes. They would not endanger the family."

  "But I don't understand what the authorities want."

  "Nor I. It is true, Tío Domingo failed to hide his contempt for the new governor.” Rosa covered her face with her hands and wept.

  Amy put an arm around the girl's shoulders. “Perhaps I can find out something. I'll talk to Alizar and the alcalde."

  Rosa's muffled voice quavered. “Before he surrendered, Tío Domingo asked my cousins to carry a message to you. He feared the questioning, he said."

  "What did he say?"

  Tears spilled down Rosa's cheeks as she gazed mutely at Amy.

  "Rosa? What message?"

  "He said he might not be able to keep your secret for much longer. We must to get the muskets immediately and use them to defend ourselves."

  * * * *

  Upon entering the Palace of the Governors, Alizar received a courteous welcome by the guards and minor officials. They accepted him as a regular caller since the governor had named him an advisor. Some advisor! Pérez tended to ignore all his warnings.

  Alizar wondered whether the man had made up his mind what to do about the growing defiance of the people in the northern pueblos. Denouncing the rebels and their “proclamation” as frivolous showed what a fool he was! The dullard had also disregarded Alizar's suggestion that General Armijo himself could be masterminding a conspiracy against him. Having once served a term as governor, it wouldn't be farfetched to assume that the self-proclaimed general might want to enjoy that privilege again.

  Pérez's worst judgment was in continuing to ignore Alizar's advice to leave the country quickly if he wanted to preserve his own life.

  Waiting impatiently for his audience with the governor, Alizar eyed the exotic furnishings Pérez had added to the suite of rooms: huge gilded mirrors, an ornate chest of drawers, a big table clock, and six sofas upholstered in calico. He could almost picture Amy acting as hostess here in her blue velvet gown, her bejeweled hair piled up in blonde curls. It would suit her, he thought.

  He noticed a bullet hole in the wall stuffed with what looked like human hair. Above it someone had drawn a cross—no doubt a memorial to whomever had died there. A chill settled in the marrow of his bones at the reminder of the sudden violence that had ended a life. He formed the sign of the cross upon himself and vowed to watch his own back. Peril shadowed the path he walked.

  Pérez admitted Alizar to his office with a warm greeting. “How soon can you have your militia ready to march?"

  Alizar halted in surprise, remembering that in spite of Pérez's efforts to raise troops, the Caciques of the outlying pueblos had sent only a few small companies of volunteers. He collected himself quickly. “My men will gather in the plaza ready to march whenever you fire a cannon, just as you gave us notice. What are you planning?"

  "I am following your advice. I am preparing myself for any resistance I may encounter during my tour of Río Arriba."

  "May I caution you: Since Esquibel escaped from jail, he has probably been encouraging anarchy. I hear he even won over the priest of Santa Cruz."

  "I'm not worried. Yesterday, more recruits arrived from Río Abajo."

  Alizar hid his skepticism. “How many altogether now?"

  "The total, with your civil militia, the small presidial force I've kept, and the volunteers from Cochití, Sandía, and Santo Domingo pueblos, we have over 150 men. That should be enough to protect my retinue, eh? I'm taking along the District Court Judge, the First and Second Alcaldes of Santa Fe, and some other influential citizens to help me negotiate with the Caciques of each pueblo. What am I forgetting?"

  "Cannons?"

  Pérez sighed. “I do not expect to need them, but I will take two."

  "Have you given any more thought to my warning about Armijo?"

  The governor waved a negligent hand. “He is not plotting against me. I do not know where you hear such things. Don Vicente Lorenzo, I suppose?"

  "Vicente and I have been good friends for years. He does not spread idle gossip. Armijo has an interest in the alcalde's daughter. She overheard something and told her father. If it is true—if Armijo tries to drive you out—his first step would be to alarm the people."

  "What kind of threat is that? I do not know what he could say about me."

  Alizar smiled. “Well, among other things, I have heard that you will tax away the eggs their hens lay, and even assess a tax upon men for sleeping with their wives in connubial bliss."

  "Ridiculous!"

  Alizar laughed. “Of course. But these simple-minded people believe him."

  Pérez sulked for a moment. “What would you suggest I do?"

  "It depends on how much he is involved in your affairs."

  "Well, he is our customs inspector—not that he is doing the country any big favors. However, I took your advice and fired him—see how I listen to you?"

  Alizar smiled. “Bueno. So when do we march?"

  "At once. That is why I called you.” The governor rose and sent a guard to fire the cannon in the parade ground.

  Five minutes after leaving the palacio, Alizar rushed to the Lorenzo home. Amy wasn't there, and even Felicité couldn't tell him where she'd gone. His heart sank as he realized he'd be marching into battle without so much as bidding her adios.

  He took his old friend aside. “Don Vicente, I just spoke with the governor—he is marching north immediately."

  The alcalde's eyes widened. “Does he plan to arrest more high officials in the pueblos? No one is safe from his inquisitions anymore. I cannot support him any longer. It is time for truth. And action."

  "Leave the action to men equipped to fight. The governor is gathering a retinue. You are on his list, but I beg you to make excuses not to go. Plead illness, whatever you can think of."

  "But why, mi amigo?"

  "It will not turn out as he expects. He plans to negotiate with those outlaws—Esquibel, García, and their followers. But I believe it has gone too far for that. There will be bloodshed."

  "I would think he might fear an uprising here in Santa Fe while he is gone."

  Alizar shook his head. “There will be few men with weapons left behind."

  "What if the Americans join the opposition? A trade caravan is due in from the States. A messenger rode in from Pecos this morning with the news. American merchants are very well armed."

  "The Americans are not here to fight, but to make money."

  "If you say so,DonAlizar. I will take my family to San Miguel on the pretext of waiting for the caravan.” He smiled. “My daughter, Felicité, is anxious to reunite with your man, Toluca, anyway. If I take her with me, perhaps she will leave me in peace."

  "What about Señorita Amy?"

  "I believe she is visiting a friend somewhere."

  "When you see her, would you warn her? Persuade her to accompany you to San Miguel."

  "I will do so.” Don Vicente embraced him. “Take care, my old friend."

  Out in the street, Alizar kept an eye out for Amy, but she did not appear. With heavy heart, he swung into the saddle and loped toward the plaza.

  * * * *

  One thing Tyler noticed about the three-man escort García had sent with him: they had the hea
ring of desert foxes and the eyesight of falcons. A full half-hour before Pérez and his troops hove into view, his escort had him off the trail behind a low ridge, hiding, while they brushed away hoof prints in the dust. Somehow, they also kept their horses from nickering as the columns of foot soldiers and cavalry passed by below.

  Tyler, flat on his stomach, took off his hat and parted the bushes on the ridge to watch the procession through his spyglass. Thank God Amy had packed it for him the night he fled Santa Fe; he'd had more occasion to use it than any other item, except perhaps his rifle. It dismayed him to see the governor, accompanied by several of his top officials including Alizar and a motley army of Indian conscripts, marching north on the Taos trail—at least a hundred and a half of them.

  He smiled at the irony. If they were planning to confront the rebels, they were riding into a trap. Tyler inched back down the slope, then replaced his hat. Would he have the time he needed to collect the muskets? It would be close.

  Bitterness swept through him as he remembered how Esquibel had kept him a virtual prisoner while working out the details of the “proclamation” and arguing endlessly with his men over revolutionary strategies. Trust had been in short supply, and Tyler had chafed with impatience waiting for them to make a decision. Now time had nearly run out.

  After the governor's retinue passed, Tyler set a rapid pace for his companions heading south toward Santa Fe following the narrow trail along the Rio del Norte. By the time clusters of adobe houses came into view, Tyler's impatience had grown to massive proportions. His need to see Amy, to hold her in his arms, to make sure she was safe, increased with every passing mile.

  Tyler left his Indian guides in the street and approached the Lorenzo's front door alone. When no one answered his summons, he knocked again. Alarm prickled his skin. Where was Amy? He took a steadying breath, telling himself it was too soon to worry. In the last few months, she could have found new friends, new accommodations.

  Back at the hitching rack, he tried sign language on his guides to explain that he couldn't take them directly to the muskets—he didn't know where they were. All he got were blank stares. He cursed under his breath, wishing to hell García had come with him or sent someone who spoke at least a little English. But General García couldn't be spared because General Esquibel needed him to organize the rebellion. Tyler marveled at the number of generals that tended to materialize in revolutionary armies. He just hoped this one had an equal number of warriors.

  Tyler gave up, shrugging and turning away from the hard-eyed scouts. If they wanted to know where he was going, they would have to follow him to find out. Riding on toward the plaza, three pairs of black eyes bored into his back as he mounted his horse, and an ominous silence gave way to surly grumbling. The exchange of scowls and impatient gestures were building a case against him, he could tell. Not only had they come to help transport muskets, but he suspected these rebels from La Cañada wanted to make certain he didn't execute some kind of double cross.

  What if he wasn't able to track down the muskets in time? What could he expect from the surly half-breeds dogging his steps? If only he could have gotten a message through to Amy in advance. He'd tried to do just that, but the overly cautious García hadn't allowed it.

  An American trade caravan, newly-arrived, filled the Santa Fe plaza with its coil of wagons, herd of draft animals, and stacks of merchandise. Tyler melded with the horde of shoppers, traders, peons, and Indians, feeling inconspicuous to all but the grim-faced men who flanked him.

  Thunderheads over the Jemez Mountains charged the atmosphere as they had for several days, but in the plaza, sunlight glared off the white canvas tops of the traders’ wagons. Smoke from the cook fires mingled with the dust stirred up by a restive crowd. Tyler dodged running children and clusters of chattering women as he searched for a familiar face in the mass of humanity. Amy, the trader's daughter, wouldn't miss this event, would she?

  Tyler made a slow circuit of the plaza, his eyes flicking from one camp to the next, wishing he could ditch his escort and continue his search alone. To hell with the mission! It was hardly worth his while to finish something Van Buren had lost confidence in. He had to admit he no longer believed in the cause, anyway. Interfering in the politics of a neighboring country was just plain wrong. Furthering democracy had a noble sound, but was that really what Jackson had been after? Or had he simply been coveting the land stretching from Texas to the Pacific Ocean?

  With a sense of impending doom, Tyler ignored the silent trio shadowing him and made his way to the palacio. He took a deep breath, building courage, and prepared to cross the threshold of his enemy's domain. He could be arrested on sight, he supposed, but with Pérez and his officials out of town, he wasn't too worried. He had to risk it. Where else could he start looking for a lead on Amy's whereabouts?

  Someone shouted his name, and Tyler turned. A redheaded man, standing taller than most of the Mexicans in the crowd, bounded forward to seize his arm. “Hallelujah! You're a sight for sore eyes!"

  "Lord in heaven—Jeb?"

  "None other. What in hell's goin’ on?"

  "I'm not sure.” Tyler gazed in wonder at the gaunt, barefoot man standing before him. “So they let you out? Perhaps my appeals to Van Buren did some good after all."

  "I dunno. Whatever it was, I'm glad to be back. If I've got you to thank for it, I owe you plenty.” Jeb flashed a curious glance at the three men waiting behind Tyler. “I can't wait to show you what I found—the prettiest little valley south of here. Perfect for raisin’ cows and horses. I was thinkin’ we ought to go partners on it, all of us."

  Tyler grinned. “That's the best offer I've gotten in awhile. Where's Amy? She with you?"

  Jeb frowned. “No. I thought she was with you.” He glanced around the square at the freight wagons. “She wouldn't miss this, would she? Henri sent her some more merchandise. I see they only now gave me his letter. Did you check at the Lorenzo place?"

  "Yeah. Listen, all hell's about to break loose, Jeb. Pérez is going up against the Pueblos north of here. I just arrived, myself, and I can't find Amy anywhere. I've got to get my hands on those muskets."

  Jeb's mouth dropped open. “Tell me what's happening."

  After Tyler filled him in, Jeb insisted on checking out the governor's office himself and, failing there, to ride out to the Orlando farm in search of his sister. “I got some other business out there, anyway.” Deep feeling flashed in Jeb's eyes. “If I remember correctly, I missed out on a weddin'—mine."

  "All right. I'll look around here.” Tyler gripped Jeb's shoulder to emphasize the gravity of the situation. “When you see Domingo, get the directions to that cave where he hid the muskets. I'll meet you at the Rosario Chapel outside of town, and we'll go after them. If I don't, I'm in a real peck of trouble."

  Chapter 29

  Trouble! Amy removed her wide-brimmed straw hat before peeking around the edge of the great flange of rock. Hugging the cliff wall, she tried to reveal no more than the tip of her nose as she surveyed the situation developing on the slope below. Her breath stirred the dust on the warm sienna-colored stone next to her cheek.

  Fifty yards away, four men on horseback picked their way along the trail, studying the ground where her wagon tires had scraped over the rocks. Two wore uniforms: one red, one blue and white. In the two days since she'd left Santa Fe, they were the first sign of human life she'd seen. Why did they have to be following her?

  Amy eased back into the angle of shade, her heart hammering. If they looked carefully, they would discover her wagonload of muskets and ammunition hidden in the pine trees.

  "Rosa, do you recognize those men? Isn't that capitán Gutierrez?"

  Rosa stuck her head out. “Sí, and the other one ... General Armijo!"

  "The Customs Inspector?"

  "He has forced my uncle or my brother to tell what they know, else he wouldn't be here!” Rosa crossed herself. “Madre mía! God have pity on them."

  Amy tried to
spot Benito and Mateo, but they had melted into the jumble of rocks, carrying with them the carbines she'd given them. She hoped they had successfully obliterated the telltale wagon ruts leading up the hill.

  "I will kill him!” Rosa stepped out and raised the musket to her shoulder.

  Amy jerked the girl back. “No! Our only chance of saving your family now is to get these weapons into the hands of your friends from Santo Domingo."

  The sun had climbed to midheaven, and the heat had become intense. The pine-studded hills shimmered with it and the sweep of desert beyond seemed to pulsate. Amy found a crack between the rocks through which she could follow the action. She spotted Rosa's two cousins at last concealed among the boulders below her, crouched like statues, watching and waiting.

  In ages past, a massive ridge of stone had pushed up through the side of the hill like a row of blunted yellow teeth. As Armijo and his men disappeared behind one end of this bluff, Amy followed their progress by the sound of hoofbeats echoing through the canyon. Dislodged stones rattled down the hillside below them like handfuls of lead balls. Soon silence followed.

  "They're gone.” Amy heaved a sigh of relief and reached for the water jug. With all the dust she'd breathed, the tepid water left a muddy taste in her mouth. “We'd better wait awhile longer to be sure. Drink?"

  Rosa took a swallow of water, then recapped the jug. “Mateo comes."

  A moment later, he appeared beside Amy. “I will follow them. If they come back this way, I will fire the musket. You will know."

  "Good. I'll wait for you."

  He left, silent in his knee-high moccasins, and Amy led Rosa back up the hill toward the wagon. The route was steep; every breath felt like a hot knife in her lungs. She craved a long rest, preferably alongside a cool stream, but she had far to go, much to do.

  At the wagons, she advised Rosa to lie down for awhile, knowing she would need her strength later. She then spread a small rug in the shade of a pine tree where she could sit and watch the trail. What size reception party would she get at the Orlando farm, she wondered? Rebels from Santo Domingo Pueblo would meet her and take possession of the muskets. It might lead to a small revolution, or it might not. In any case, the mission would be fulfilled, Houston would be happy, and best of all, a few citizens of New Mexico would have a chance to make a protest.