by M L Dunn
Juan’s smile left his face as he glanced at the pistol the sheriff’s hand was hanging near. “You don’t understand hombre,” Juan said pointing at the sheriff. “I did her a favor buying her from the Comanche. She can repay me some by spending some time with me. Her and I have a deal you could say.”
“I doubt she agreed to that,” July said. “I think it would be best if you just left her with us and went on your way.”
“I’m sure you’d like that,” Juan said, “but I can’t do that.”
“You can,” July said, “I’m sure you’re starting to see the wisdom in doing just that.”
“No,” Juan said shaking his head. “Mi amigos,” he said waving a hand at his men, “are looking forward to getting to know this woman. They speak very little English and there might be a misunderstanding if you were to try and take her from us.”
“You’d better explain it to them real careful like then,” July told Juan. “Like your life depends on it, because she’s not leaving here with you. Your amigos might be more willing to forget about her if you explain to them there’s a shotgun leveled at them inside that wagon.”
“Maybe,” Juan said eyeing the wagon. “Why do you care about this woman, because she is white? You’re very kind to care about this woman, but I don’t think you understand,” he said aiming a finger at the sheriff. “This woman was a whore before she was with the Comanche. If she had a family I would take her to them myself, but she is just a whore and believe me I will treat her better than the Comanche. You should not worry about her. ”
“Why don’t we let her decide?”
Juan shook his head. “This woman does not know what’s best for her,” Juan said. “Else she would never have ended up a whore in the first place. You’d not be helping her any. I thought you were out here after buffalo hides,” he said turning to Sweet Time. “Why would you bring along a lawman if you’re after buffalo hides?”
“Just happened that way.”
“No I don’t think so. I think you’re after something else,” Juan said like he had just figured something out. He looked at the faces of the men fronting him. He settled on Caleb. “Who are you?” he asked. “Are you a lawman?”
“No.”
“I didn’t think so,” Juan said shaking his head. “Why are you out here?”
“What difference does it make?”
“Maybe a lot.”
“How could it?”
“Because the Comanche might be expecting you.”
“What if they are?”
“Then you’d be better off dealing with me,” Juan claimed bringing his finger around to poke at himself. “You married?”
“I am,” Caleb answered, taken aback.
“You have children?”
“I do.”
“Little child?”
“Aren’t they all?”
English being Juan’s second language, he did not understand Caleb’s meaning at first, but then he did. “Ah, you joke with me,” Juan said aiming a finger at Caleb. “I like you. I want to do you a favor.”
“What would that be?”
“Bring you your child. Am I right?” Juan asked. “Is the little niña with the yellow hair I saw in their camp your child?”
Caleb didn’t answer for a moment, but then he told Juan that yes, the child was his. “You’ve seen Mattie?”
“Is that her name?” Juan asked. “Si,” I’ve seen her. She is a very beautiful niña. Would you like me to bring her to you?”
“Can you?”
“Si,” Juan said confidently. “They’ll trade her to me. You’d be fools to go there yourselves. They’d kill all of you.”
“Why would they?” July asked.
Juan turned to face the sheriff. “In your case because you’re not very likable,” he said aiming a finger at him. “Comanche don’t need much of a reason anyway, but you’ve given them a good one. You killed some of their band. I know who you are.”
“Fine then,” July said. “You bring his child here and we’ll reward ya.”
“Okay,” Juan said flashing a smile, “now you’re talking with some sense. I’ll have her here mañana, and you’ll give me the money.”
“Leave her here in the meantime,” July said pointing at the woman next to Juan.
“No amigo. This woman is afraid to leave my side,” Juan explained climbing back on his horse and pulling the woman close to him. “I don’t think she likes you anyway.”
“Leave her with us so we’ll know you’re coming back.”
“I may have to trade her back for la niña,” Juan said beginning to draw his horse back. “We’ll all get drunk when I come back with the little girl,” he said leaning over his horse, shielded by it and by the woman who he drew back into the darkness as his men slowly backed away as well.
“Okay then. Adios,” July said with a big wave of his hand that didn’t put Juan at ease any, but might have fooled some of Juan’s men. July waited until some of them turned their backs before he pulled his gun.
He shot twice at the feet of Juan Romero’s horse, frightening the big animal and causing it to rear and Juan Romero slid off the horse and landed with a thump on the ground.
Juan’s men had let their mounts bunch together or drift into the darkness and now they tried desperately to get control of them. The two pistoleros nearest Juan pulled their weapons, but July fired and hit one of them in the shoulder and the man rode off gripping his shoulder. The other pistolero though hit July in his leg and he fell. The pistolero might have finished the sheriff then if not for Joe firing both barrels of his shotgun. The pistolero was out of range of Joe’s shotgun, but the loud blasts caused him to duck and lose sight of the sheriff. His horse spun around as he went to finish July and before he could fire again it was too late. July shot him twice and the pistolero slid off his horse dead.
Another of Juan’s men had slid off his horse and was using it to hide behind as he fired at Jonas, but not wanting to expose himself to return fire, he was firing blindly, just reaching over the saddle, not able to see Jonas. Jonas dropped to the ground and fired under the horse at the man’s feet, but Jonas did not think he’d hit him, for the vaquero, showing fine horsemanship - put a leg into his stirrup and rode off while hanging off the side of his horse.
Caleb was hit right off, shot in the forearm as he dove behind the wagon. Still he managed to reach around the wagon and fire off a couple of shots that chased the vaquero shooting at him, away.
Juan Romero rose from the ground. He could have escaped in the melee, no one was paying him much attention now, but he didn’t want to leave his prize behind. He ran to the woman and grabbing a fistful of her hair, caused her to rise from where she’d dropped to the ground. He fired at the darkness the sheriff had disappeared into, but had no idea if he’d hit him.
The sheriff fired back, but missed purposely so as not to hit the woman and Juan decided to cut his losses and run. He let go off the woman and began running, but the trouble was he was not very fast and his horse had run off.
The sheriff yelled at Jonas not to let Juan Romero escape; his thinking was that if Juan escaped, he’d regroup his men and rush their camp from three directions. Jonas started after him and if Juan Romero had not kept yelling for his men to come back, he probably would have eluded Jonas in the darkness. Jonas ordered him to stop and let go his weapon, but when Juan ignored him, first to run a little farther away, but then to turn quickly around with his gun in his hand - Jonas shot him.
Jonas made his way back toward camp dragging Juan Romero by his boots. He plopped him on the ground not too far from the woman. Near the wagon Mr. O’Hara and Joe had lit a lantern, lowered the tailgate and were looking at Caleb’s arm in the light.
“You hit?” Jonas asked the woman.
She shook her head.
“Come into camp,” Jonas told her.
The woman nodded.
Jonas walked toward the sheriff who was sitting on the ground gripping his leg lik
e he was afraid it might fall off if he let go.
“He might have brought us the child,” Jonas told him, pointing back at the darkness where Juan Romero had run.
“I doubt it,” July said through clenched teeth. “I’d bet Juan was planning on stirring them Comanche against us. We might have had a hundred Comanche in our lap come morning. You’ve seen how things are out here.”
Jonas saw the sheriff was hurt then. “Let’s get you over by the wagon. Can you help me with him?” he called to the woman.
Together they brought the sheriff to the wagon. Jonas thought Mr. O’Hara might say the same thing he had – that Juan might have brought them the child, but Mr. O’Hara seemed to agree with the sheriff that Juan was incapable of performing a good act.
“I doubt Juan was planning just to bring his child back,” Mr. O’Hara said. “If he was wanting to, and I’m sure it crossed his mind, he could easily convince the Comanche to wipe us all out. Juan Romero would do something like that for as little as this wagon and its contents. He’s the number one reason I thought I had left this place for good. I don’t care a lick that’s he’s dead.”
Mr. O’Hara returned his attention Caleb’s wound and Jonas watched as he extracted the bullet, along with a piece of Caleb’s shirt, from out it by opening is wider with his fingers and then pulling the bullet out with a pair of pliers. Fortunately no bone had been struck and applying pressure soon halted the bleeding. Mr. O’Hara told Caleb he thought a wound should be cleaned and kept that way while it healed, for it reasoned that if cleanliness and godliness went together – then a clean wound was more likely to heal than a neglected one. He washed the wound with soap and water before sewing it closed.
Next up was the sheriff. Sweet Time rinsed his hands with alcohol and poked inside the sheriff’s leg with his index finger. He determined the bullet was wedged into muscle. Cutting tissue away and tying off blood vessels was beyond his eyesight let alone his surgical skills Mr. O’Hara told the sheriff, but he could clean it and wrap it with a poultice of comfrey that should keep the wound from becoming infected. This he did and then the sheriff was handed a bottle of liquor for medication and propped up comfortably in the back of the wagon for his leg to begin either healing or rot.
“If it shows signs of becoming infected, it will have to be removed before the infection spreads,” Mr. O’Hara told the sheriff. “Else you might lose both legs.”
“If that happens, I’ll take care of it myself,” July said having no intention of allowing both legs to be taken from him.
Caleb went and retrieved the sheriff’s saddle and blanket with his good arm and when he was headed back toward the wagon, the woman spoke to him.
“I seen your child,” she said.
“Mattie, you’ve seen Mattie?” he asked urgently.
“Spoke to her.”
“When?”
“Last time was a couple of days ago.”
“Have they harmed her?”
“No,” the woman said, “in fact that blond hair of hers made her quite the curiosity among the Comanche. She was given to a Comanche woman to raise as her own,” she said. “No harm’s come to her.”
“We were told a Comanche called Black Horse had her,” Caleb said.
“This be his wife,” the woman informed them. “I don’t know if it matters, but she was a captive herself at some point, probably as a child. She’s a white woman though, you might not realize it now unless you looked closely at her, because for a long time now I figure she considers herself one of them. I suspect that’s why they gave your child to her though. Having something in common.”
“Where are they?” Jonas asked, coming closer.
The woman turned to him. “Not more than three, four hours away,” she said pointing.
“Do the Comanche have any idea who we are? I mean do they know that the child’s father is out here looking for her?”
“I don’t think so. I think Juan just now figured that out.”
“Is them men of his likely to ride back there?”
“I doubt it,” the woman said. “They mostly kept their distance; just Juan was friendly with the Comanche. They’re expecting you to catch up with them, best I can tell.”
Caleb waited a moment, thinking the woman might say more, but when she didn’t, he thanked her for what she had told him, and then delivered the sheriff his saddle and blanket, After that he followed after Joe who was headed out of the camp with a shovel.
Joe was determined to rid the world, at least the surface of it, of Juan Romero for good. First he and Caleb caught Juan Romero’s and the other vaquero’s horses and then Joe went through their saddlebags, and through the pockets of Juan and the dead pistolero.
The woman stood next to the wagon unsure what to make of her situation; no doubt it was greatly improved, but where to next?
“What’s your name?” July asked.
“Rachel,” she said not bothering with a last name.
“How’d you end up with him?” he asked, nodding at the darkness where Juan Romero lay.
“This is my second time with him,” she explained, looking toward there also. “He’s the one that traded me to the Comanche.”
“How’d you end up with him the first time?”
“Through no fault of my own. He stole me.”
“From where?”
“Fort Worth.”
“You got family there?”
“No. ”
“Friends?”
“Nobody that’s missing me, if that’s what you mean.”
“Is what he said about you true?” July asked.
“I guess so, but there’s more to it. It wasn’t as simple as he made it sound.”
July figured that explained much towards how she’d managed to hold onto her sanity so firmly. The hard life she’d been living in Fort Worth probably had prepared her for survival out here living with the Comanche. The sheriff had been through Fort Worth a time or two and he couldn’t be sure this was their first introduction.
“I’m surprised the Comanche sold you off,” he said.
“I suppose I could thank one of you for that.”
“How’s that?”
“The brave that owned me went out on that raid that netted his child,” Rachel said, glancing at Caleb. “He didn’t come back though.”
The woman was thin, partly July suspected, because she'd not been fed regularly and her diet probably had been both unaccustomed and inadequate. Her hair was long, tangled, and fell beside her features so that you had to position your face directly in front of hers if you wanted to meet her eyes.
Caleb and Joe came back into camp leading Juan and the other man’s horse, carrying their gun belts and a small sack. “That Juan had quite a sum of money on him,” Joe said, holding up the sack.
“Let me see,” Mr. O’Hara said.
Joe handed him it while Caleb picked up Juan’s sombrero thinking it would do a better job of keeping the sunlight out of his eyes than his hat did. Mr. O’Hara poured the contents of the sack out into the glow of the lantern and quickly counted out about two hundred dollars’ worth of American script and even more Mexican.
“How we gonna divide this?” he asked looking toward the sheriff.
“I think this woman here has claim to some of it,” July said. “Sixty dollars maybe,” he proposed and nobody seemed to mind making that her share.
“Equal shares on the rest?” Mr. O’Hara asked after handing the woman her money.
“I don’t need no part of it,” Caleb said, happy to repay Mr. O’Hara and the others back some for having been the cause of them being out there. “I’d like this hat though,” Caleb said holding up Juan’s sombrero. “I imagine it does a good job of keeping your eyes shaded.”
The others looked at him like he’d negotiated poorly as they told him he could have it.
“A dead man’s hat is bad luck,” Joe told him.
“Well, I’ll just keep it for a while,” Caleb said, wanting to
give the large hat a try.
“You can keep my share too,” the sheriff told Sweet Time, “if you’ll let me have that charger of Juan’s.” Mr. O’Hara agreed to the deal, but then July added, “I still expect ya to ride to that Comanche camp tomorrow and ask to trade for his child.”
“I figured as much,” Mr. O’Hara said not bothering to look up as he divided Juan’s money.
“You’re giving me this,” Rachel asked, holding out the money in front of July.
“It’s yours.”
“Why?”
“I figure Juan owes you plenty more than that.”
“Why didn’t you let him keep me?”
“I didn’t think you wanted to.”
“I’m sure it was obvious, but you weren’t afraid?”
“Some,” July said, “I didn’t count on them pulling their guns when all I did was cause Juan to fall off his horse.”
“Even then most men wouldn’t have bothered.”
July shrugged. “How long you been gone?”
The woman seemed to study the question. “What month is this?”
“September.”
“Six months then.”
Jonas was given a pistol and some other belongings and forty dollars U.S and a handful of Mexican pesos. Then he and Caleb went and dug a grave for Juan Romero and the other man. The ground lifted easily at first, but then it required more effort and Jonas went at it with a pick. When they were done, they slid their boots underneath Juan and kind of rolled him into his grave – it didn’t really matter if he was face up or down, but he kind of landed in between.
Chapter 23
Soon the sky began to lighten, and Caleb joined Mr. O’Hara hitching the mules to the wagon. Mr. O’Hara hadn’t said much the past few days, but he asked now for Caleb to describe Mattie to him. Caleb knew Sweet Time wouldn’t have much trouble picking out his blond child from among a bunch of Comanche, but he found he liked talking about Mattie and Mr. O’Hara didn’t seem to mind him rambling on about her. When they were finished they joined the others near the fire and Mr. O’Hara bent down to pour himself some coffee and invite Jonas to accompany him to the Comanche camp.