by Jake Logan
“I’ll get it and send it to you if I don’t come back with it myself.”
“If you need some of it, use it.”
“I’ll try to keep it together for you.”
“May God be with you, amigo.”
The four of them rode off in the predawn the next day, with four pack animals to carry food and supplies they might need, especially if struck by a snowstorm. Alone out there, anything could happen to the weather during the winter. The women had fashioned a baby carrier for Katrina, so she could tie her infant son tightly to her back, like a papoose.
Paco, the youth, was a smart hard worker selected by McKee’s women, who said he would be the best one to go with Slocum. His excitement over being chosen as Slocum’s helper was hard for him to contain, but on the way he proved he was not only polite, but a real helper at camping setups and loading up the next morning. He asked countless questions until he fully understood something, but Slocum didn’t mind.
The cold barren country spread out in front of them, and the open azure sky took up over half of the horizon. They rode on, trotting a lot. Then a site appeared on ahead with a black windmill, corrals, and some adobe buildings. No signs of life but the prospect there might be water encouraged them to move forward as the arms of the cold wind swept over the bundled travelers.
The wind vane on the mill had been turned so the blades wouldn’t spin off in a storm.
Slocum dismounted, handed his reins to Paco, and climbed the structure. He undid the vane. The wind made the fan spin and the gears contacted. Next the pump began to work. Everyone carefully watched the up and down strokes of the mill. Nothing came, then the pump shuddered a little, and after a few more spins a trickle of water came out of the spout. Then more and more in spurts until the windmill’s efforts flushed the muddy water out of the upper pipe and clear water came out in a steady stream into the dry tank.
Elania shouted. Paco added his voice to her cheer, and Slocum nodded in approval at the production coming forth. Creaky-sounding gears and the splash of water warmed him as he watched the power of the wind draw water from under the ground. There would be water for their mounts and themselves, and there could even be enough for baths at the rate it was pumping.
“Paco, go see if we can heat one of those jacals. If you can, start on that project.”
“Sí, I will do that.”
Slocum motioned to Katrina, who was huddling over her baby bundle. Despite the wind, she followed the youth, carrying her papoose in her arms. Elania took the pack animals after them.
Slocum unsaddled their mounts and turned them into the solid corral. The horses soon rolled in the dust and then went to drink from the tank that the water had begun to fill. There was some old hay in the bunkers to feed them. He still had grain for them though he rationed that. After he’d finished with them, he set out for the adobe where the packhorses were hitched at the rack and did the same with them.
When he entered the dwelling, he saw Paco on his knees holding his hands out to the started fire. He jumped to his feet.
“I am ready to unload,” the boy said as if caught sleeping on the job.
“Don’t blame him,” Elania said, gathering her skirt to stand. “We are all so pleased to be out of that wind at last.”
“I know,” Slocum said. “This place feels like the Garden of Eden. Open and close the door for me. I’ll bring in the panniers.”
“Who owns this place?” Elania asked, walking with him to the door.
“I have no idea. But we’ll thank him if we ever meet him.” Then he laughed.
“Yes, we will.”
Paco soon joined him. “Finding this, we were lucky, right?”
“Yes, this is out on the fringe of where I expected to find a real ranch.”
“Are we safe here?”
“We’re never entirely safe. We don’t know all of the threats. So we must be on our guard.”
Paco nodded and busied himself stripping off the diamond hitch from one of the packhorses. In a short while they were unloaded and put in the corral with the others. The youth then took canvas buckets and began to haul water to heat in a great iron kettle they’d found. Elania cooked them a meal and the baby cried, although nothing was wrong with him. He simply needed to be rocked, which his mother soon did, and things now felt more homelike in the solid adobe structure.
There was a good supply of firewood on hand but no sign of who owned or used this place and why. No need to worry. They had a place to recover for a few days before they had to set out again. To be out of the wailing wind would help refresh them, and Slocum had to admit that would help him, too. The hypnotic effects of that force made people give up on the hope of ever escaping its hold on them.
He made a check of the area. No fresh tracks or manure told him no one had been there recently. A good sign—and if it stayed that way, it would be even better. Back inside, he stripped off his coat and took a bowl of soup that had been prepared.
He and Elania shared small smiles. No doubt she was imagining what life could be like as a married woman in her own home.
He and Paco turned their backs when the women took their baths. The smell of soap filled the small dwelling and added to its pleasant warmth. The women and baby were at last clean and dried. Paco took his dip and then so did Slocum. He shaved and felt refreshed when he re-dressed.
At sundown, he went outside and checked the weather signs. He saw a storm coming in from the west.
Thank God they’d found shelter just in time, he thought as he went back inside to join the others.
10
Sometime in the night, Slocum got up to piss. As he stood outside, wet snowflakes melted on his cheeks. Was this the start of a blizzard or a simple late-season snowfall? No telling, but he hoped it wouldn’t last long.
They stayed at the ranch for more two days as the winds howled and the snow piled up. Then the sun came out, the snow began to melt, and they rode west. The melting snow provided water for them and made the trip much easier. They reached the Mission of the Saints on the California Road, and the muscles in Slocum’s back eased some.
After an extra day’s rest at the small mission, they headed west again. There were more villages to stop over in as they crossed the eastern part of the New Mexico territory. Other travelers were on the road, and word got around that the Proctor girls were coming home. As a result, they were met in many of the villages along the way and honored by people on the boardwalks, who lined up to see them.
They were two days outside Santa Fe when a group of men rode into their camp.
“Father,” Elania whispered, then looked at her sister.
As the men dismounted, Slocum stood up to greet them.
“So you are the man who is bringing my daughters to me,” said the portly man who was clearly in charge.
“Yes, sir. My name is John Slocum. Colonel McKee asked me to escort them here and collect the ransom he paid for their return.”
“How much?” he demanded, not smiling.
Slocum was taken aback. “I hoped you’d be so excited that your daughters are safe, that you’d come to me with a more friendly disposition, sir. Your attitude is pretty brusque for a man who fathered such fine ladies.”
“Ladies? Ha! Listen to me. They have shamed me enough. Obvious they fucked every damn Indian who had them. One bitch has a bastard half-breed to show off their whoring like—”
“Get out of my camp. Before I silence your mouth with a bullet.” Slocum moved at the man with his fist on his gun butt. “Leave right now. The people of Santa Fe will be more forgiving than a blowhard like you.”
“The people of Santa Fe will laugh at you for dragging the likes of them back home.”
“Then they can laugh at me. But they will be more generous to your daughters than you are. Get out of my camp and don’t come back.
”
He stood with his hand on his gun as Proctor gathered the others and rode out.
“Damn him!” Elania swore and shook her fist after him as they rode away into the twilight.
Katrina sat on the ground and nursed her boy, rocking him back and forth to comfort him. She never looked away from him or said a word.
“What must we do now?” Elania asked Slocum.
“Go on to Santa Fe. He’s not the only man there. The people in town won’t put up with his anger and bitterness. There are better people, who will help you and your sister.”
“He’s powerful and controls many who owe him money. I told you he might react like this, and put us in a convent. We aren’t good enough to be his daughters. We have shamed him by being kidnapped and raped by red men.”
“Let’s go to sleep. In two days, we can be in Santa Fe and explain our case to the people. I believe they will do the right thing.”
He turned to Paco. “Are the horses secure?”
“Sí, señor.”
“Good, we leave at daybreak. Have us up and ready.”
“Sí, señor.”
Satisfied that the horses were taken care of, Slocum spread out his bedroll close to Elania’s and lay down.
“I warned you,” she told him. “To hell with my father. I’ll go someplace far away and never see him again.”
“You better stay and protect your sister. She’ll need your attention, not being able to speak.”
Slocum fell into a troubled sleep, and dreamt that someone was beating the hell out of him. They kicked and stomped and punched him. A woman was screaming, but the beating never stopped until he could hear nothing.
* * *
Later on, all he could hear was Paco crying. “Don’t die on me here, señor. I don’t know the way back.”
Slocum spoke through numb, swollen lips. “I won’t die, Paco. What happened?”
“Those same men came and they beat you until I thought you were dead. They took the women and baby and most of the horses, and they galloped away. They tied up Elania, she fought them, but she couldn’t get to your gun to shoot them—I could not stop them either. I am sorry, señor.”
“Where did they take them?”
“I don’t know, señor.”
Slocum’s head pounded and he was too dizzy to sit up. His eyes were too swollen to see much of anything. “Do we have supplies?”
“They didn’t take them. Just the horses, the two women, and the baby. I tried to fight them, but they knocked me down.”
“Did you hear any names?”
The boy shook his head.
“If I draw you a map, can you go find an amigo of mine who would help us?”
“Sí.”
“His name is Don Squires. He lives in Santa Fe and has a saddle store on Plaza Street.” Then Slocum lost consciousness. When he came around again, he found the boy had covered him with blankets and must have gone to find his friend, Squires. In the starlight near his head, Slocum discovered a small bottle of whiskey. If he had the strength to pull the cork, maybe the liquor would numb his pain. His broken ribs hurt like hell when his elbow brushed against them. He half sat up, bit down on the cork, and opened the bottle, causing some of the whiskey to splash on his chest. The fumes ran up his nose, and he winced at the sting of the alcohol on his cuts. He hoped the boy would find Squires even though he’d be afraid of Santa Fe. No doubt he’d never seen the likes of the busy streets and traffic.
Slocum took a swig from the bottle, and the whiskey burned his throat and the cuts inside his mouth. It stung his cut lip, but he downed lots of it because he didn’t know where the cork went or how to set the bottle down and not spill any. Besides, he needed lots of painkiller all over. The pounding in his head didn’t stop but it got farther away from him. He slumped back to sleep.
When he awoke, a young woman was squatting down beside him. “Who did this?” she asked.
He managed to say, “Proctor’s men. I don’t know their names.”
“What can I do for you?”
“I’m not sure. I’m hurting all over. How did you find me?”
“Señor Squires sent me. Paco told me where to find you.”
“Where is he—” Then Slocum fainted.
He woke up again later, and she was putting a plaster of something on his face with a small flat board like a tongue stick that a doctor used.
“What are you putting on me?” he managed to say through his swollen lips.
“Medicine.” She was again squatting beside him. He could see her thin brown legs clear up to her bare ass—not that it mattered to him at the moment. It was obvious that she wore no underwear. That was common among the poor women. The thin dress material was wash worn and faded.
Some of what she had plastered on him with her medicine had stopped the hurting and felt cool. It was the pounding between his ears that hurt the worst.
“Are you hungry? There is food here. Can I cook something?”
He had no more voice to answer her. All he could do was nod, and then he fainted again. At least when he was unconscious, he escaped the hurting and headache. As soon as he opened his eyes again, she forced some hot tea into his mouth, but it spilled on his chest soaked into his shirt. He couldn’t get it past his numb fat lips.
Then she kissed him, which seemed odd, until he realized that she had tea in her mouth and was trickling it into his throat. He thought he might choke but he didn’t, and after several of her kisses, he got more and more of the tea down his throat directly from her mouth.
At last out of breath, he rested for a moment. “What is that?” he asked finally.
“Willow tea.”
He nodded and closed his eyes. Willow was a painkiller, and after a while, it did help. When he awoke again, she was holding his head in her lap. “Have this,” she said, and encouraged him to sip small amounts of bean soup from a spoon.
Had Paco came back? No. If he were there, he’d be asking more questions about what he should do. Slocum had no idea why the boy was not back. But this dedicated young woman had seen Paco in Santa Fe. Slocum hoped the boy was safe.
Only once was the woman not there when he awoke. The next time, she told him she’d been watering his horses and putting them on new grass.
Another time, when he had to pee, she could not get him up so he half rose and she caught the stream in a tin can, matter-of-factly, and then asked him if he had any money.
“Why?”
“So I can go get some laudanum.”
He had her take the buckskin pouch from around his neck and remove all the coins from it.
“This will be enough,” she said and helped him lie back down. “I will be back in a few hours.”
“Take a horse,” he said in a creaky voice that he didn’t recognize as his own.
She shook her head. “Someone might steal him.”
He couldn’t argue and slipped away. When he awoke again, she wasn’t there and it was dark. His time awake was short. But her willow tea had deadened the pain a lot. He realized he did not know her name.
Why did he not even know her name? She’d simply never told him what it was. Or else she was hiding from someone. What was taking Paco so long? Had something bad happened to him—no way to know. Maybe he forgot the way back? But that could not have happened because the boy was sharper than that. Someone had him detained. Had Proctor caught him? He hoped not.
In the daylight, Slocum awoke and managed to crawl out from his blankets and piss by himself. Then he crawled light-headed back to his blankets, which stank of his sweat. No matter. He collapsed and it must been hours before he awoke again.
The woman sat cross-legged on the ground and nodded when he tried to talk. “Is your name Slocum?”
“Yes.”
“Hell, they left me here. I’m surprised they didn’t come back and finish me off.”
She shook her head. “These men don’t know where you are. They are not the same men who beat you.”
“How do you know this?”
“Paco told me. He did not recognize the men who are now looking for you.”
For the first time since the beating, Slocum felt a glimmer of hope. “Paco’s alive? Is he all right?”
“Yes. But he is very frightened. He is staying with my family until it is safe to return to you. The ones who seek you are tough men.”
“Do you know any of their names?”
“One is called Laredo. He is a gringo. The rest of his gang come from El Paso. We should move somewhere else to be safe.”
“No. We can’t go anywhere. If Paco ever returns, he won’t know where to find me.”
“Paco is safe now. Do not worry about him. You must get stronger so you can fight these men.”
“The men who beat me up worked for the girls’ father. The merchant Harvey Proctor. They took the two women and the baby that I brought back to collect the ransom money my friend spent on them.”
“I heard he sent them both away to become nuns. The breed son of one of them was sent to a church orphanage.”
She went and got a spoon to medicate him. “I will move you to a better place and your horses, too. I can hire some men to help me. They will cost you a few pesos, but I still have a little left from what you gave me.”
Slocum sighed. “You’ve been so kind to me. What’s your name?”
“Consuelo.”
Sedated by the powerful painkiller, Slocum was hardly aware of the trip, but he did recall the bumpy ride on a travois to a place where the cottonwood leaves made rustling sounds in the afternoon wind. It was already spring down here. The jacal was small, but the water Consuelo brought him was sweet. He could hear an old windmill creak in the wind, but it was behind the dwelling, and he hardly could make it outside to piss let alone see what was in the back.
How long had he been in her care? Weeks, he guessed, but his strength was slow to come back and he withered quickly even on crutches. She bathed and shaved him, brought new clothes for him to wear, and under a straw sombrero, he took some target practice from a chair she set up for him. Then she lined up old brown whiskey bottles for him to shoot at. Despite his weakness, he could still shoot. Barely did he ever miss one.