“No.”
I walked over and patted Culpepper on the shoulder. “So you get to sit here and shit and piss yourself until your tongue turns to boot leather.”
He snorted, waiting for me to say more, but I didn’t. “You haven’t got the guts to do this.”
“You have my daughter. You watch me.”
“You’re sworn to serve and protect.”
“Not you—the last time I looked you weren’t a resident of Absaroka County.” I walked over to Adan. “In a sense you’re right, I mean I don’t think I could stand here and beat a bound man into talking without hating myself, but this way I’m just walking out, closing the door, and letting nature take its course.”
His eyes were a little wider now. “I’ll scream and yell and—”
“Weren’t you listening? These walls are five feet thick—nobody is going to hear you.” I turned to Adan, and we made for the door. “I don’t know if I’d want that lamp or not, but then I’m not afraid of the dark and I’ve got . . . What is it you called it? A clear conscience?” Ushering the Doc through the door, I turned back. “See you around, Culpepper.”
He raised his voice. “You’re going to regret this.”
I nodded. “Yep, I probably will, but I’ll get over it.”
“That’s not what I mean, asshole. He’s got an army up there.”
I held the door, now about two-thirds closed. “Tell me about it.”
He spat the words, the bloody saliva still dripping from his mouth. “Fuck you.”
“I guess you won’t be needing this after all.” Picking up the lamp, I began pushing the steel door, the lamplight squeezing on the floor as if I were mashing it. “Adiós.”
Urging the heavy thing forward, I was within an inch of it closing when he screamed, “Wait!”
I opened the door a bit and looked in at one of those pale blue eyes that was still visible in the thin strand of light that pierced the vault. His expression hadn’t changed—if anything, he looked more vengeful, the strings of saliva dripping from his mouth with the words, “I’ll tell you whatever you want to know because it doesn’t make any motherfucking difference because you’re gonna be dead in a matter of days—and that I can guarantee you.”
* * *
—
“How did you get him to talk?”
I placed Bianca’s bag in the trunk of the Caddy with everyone else’s and gestured toward her brother. “We plied the better angels of his nature.”
She looked at me doubtfully. “Did you kill him?”
I sighed. “No, I’m not a killer—at least not when I don’t have to be. I’ve learned over the years that killing people is just lazy—better to use your imagination.” I closed the trunk of the Caddy. “More fun, too.”
“I’m beginning to think you’re psychotic.”
I rapped the side of the dusty convertible and offered her a hand as she climbed in on the driver’s side, the Seer already in the front. “You might be right.”
I followed her and pulled the seat back so Adan could get in. “The lock of the vault doesn’t work?”
“Broken, but he didn’t know that.”
Alonzo climbed into the driver’s seat after we were situated in the back. “Do you have somebody you can call to go down and let him out in a few days?”
Adan nodded. “The mayor.”
As Alonzo started the car and slipped it into gear, the Seer finally spoke. “You should have killed him.”
I glanced at Bianca and gestured toward the blind man. “There’s your killer.”
He shook his head at me. “We have an old saying in Mexico, bondad a un asesino construye ataúdes.” I waited as he stared back at me, the dead eyes completely hidden by the heavy sunglasses. “Kindness to a killer builds coffins.”
We took the road north, back the way we’d come, and then Alonzo took a left and we bumped along on another dirt road that angled toward the mountains. The sun was just beginning to ease up our spines when he circled a funky-looking old blue bus, and a broken-down corral with a lone cow standing in front of an ancient Aermotor windmill, and a large stone building that looked to be holding a lot of loosely bound hay. The lights were on in a small cottage about half the size of the barn where a bunch of people were standing on the porch in the quarter light of dawn. Alonzo cut the engine, got out of the car, and flipped the seat far enough forward for us to get out. “The Orfanato, an unofficial title.”
I helped Bianca out of the Caddy. “How many children are there?”
She placed her hands at the small of her back and stretched. “Who knows? It varies. The old woman here, she takes in the unwanted children.”
I went to the back and got the Seer’s wheelchair.
The cow bawled at us, and Bianca walked across the dusty turnaround to rub the creature’s nose. “What’s her problem, do you think?”
Adan and Alonzo approached the house as I set up the Seer’s chair. He expertly flipped himself out of the car and into it, and I started to push him toward the small stone building. “I’d say she needs milking.”
We opened a small gate, which led to the porch where a gnomelike woman was gesturing emphatically. Wheeling the blind man in closer, I listened to the conversation although not understanding much of it as a good half dozen children of different ages hung to the posts or leaned against the wall.
A young girl with large eyes who clutched one of the wooden poles like it was a lifesaver stared at me.
I looked back at her and smiled. “Hola.”
She hid behind the post.
I waited a few minutes listening to the cow bawl and the adults argue and decided I might be more useful in the corral.
I left the Seer with Bianca, swiped a metal pail, and then started back toward the cow.
Climbing over and using one of the lower poles as a seat, I began milking her and she immediately calmed. She wasn’t very big and a little on the lean side, but she was putting out, and after a bit the bucket was half full.
“You look like you’ve done that before.”
I turned on the stool and looked at her, backlit by the very first rays of the sun. “I grew up on a ranch, a cattle ranch I grant you, but I’ve been around a dairy cow or two.” Patting Bossie’s side, I nodded toward the porch. “What’s going on?”
“The burros and mules have not been gathered and are scattered all over the place, so it will take time to bring them in.”
“She didn’t know we were coming?”
Bianca laid her arms on the top rail and peered at me over them. “It’s Mexico.”
“Who’s going to wrangle?”
“Adan and Alonzo, I suppose.”
“I’ll pay money to see that.”
“Me, too.”
“So how does she take care of all those kids?”
“She says she is a strong tree with branches for many birds.”
I rose and carefully handed Bianca the bucket. “Here, give that to the strong tree and see if it improves her mood.”
Watching Bianca walk back toward the house, I couldn’t help but admire the view, and she must’ve known because she slipped a glance at me from over her shoulder as she passed her brother, who was coming my way.
Adan got to the corral and assumed the same position in the same spot as his sister had. “We may have to walk, the stock are scattered all over the desert.”
“So I heard.” I nodded. “Does she feed them?”
“I don’t know.”
“Find out, and then how she does it.”
He nodded and started away but then stopped. “How do you wish to proceed?”
“What do you mean?”
He shook his head and sighed with a sense of resignation. “My sister and the Seer, they wish to come with us.”
“On the burros?”
He laughed. “There are supposedly four mules, but they may be in Guadalajara for all we know.” He smiled. “Alonzo I am not so sure about.”
“Adan, I think it’s time we leveled with each other.” I walked over to him and tipped my hat back. “As feeble as it is, this has all the makings of a military ops and people are going to die—and the more people we have to worry about, the more likely it’ll be us.”
“Agreed.”
“No to the Seer and no to your sister.” I shrugged. “Alonzo can make up his own mind and for that matter so can you. I don’t expect you to do this either, Adan, but from what I understand you’ve been trained and have a knack for this Kind of thing.”
“I was originally with the Dirección Federal de Seguridad, but when they started to protect the Nicaraguan Contras and the assassinations and torture became too disturbing, I objected. For this I was given a forced disappearance, as they call it.” He looked at his shoes and then at me. “I am assuming you have friends and coworkers back in the US who would have assisted you?”
“Yes.”
“Why aren’t they here?”
I reached into my shirt pocket and held up the postcard I’d shown him before. “Because this says ‘Come.’” And I assumed now. I stuffed it back in my pocket. “I know that Bidarte has a habit of popping up and also of disappearing, and I can’t risk that he might do that with my daughter.” I glanced north. “Anyway, I outran my friends.”
“What you are attempting to do to us now.” He pulled out a cigar and lighter. “Did you keep Culpepper’s gun?”
“I did.”
“I wish we had more weapons.”
I thought about the fact that we pretty much just had the Colt at my back, the FN, and the collection of antique weaponry in the gym bag. “Me, too.”
He lit the cigar and pocketed the lighter. “You know he is going to kill you.”
“I know it’s a possibility.”
He took a deep puff, savoring the tobacco, and then slowly exhaled. “I’d say it’s a probability.”
* * *
—
The name of the girl with big eyes was Alicia, and she watched me as I shook the bucket with the cracked corn rattling like a maraca. The mule looked at me but didn’t move. “Look, we can do this the easy way or we can do it the hard way.”
My grandfather had had mules, a team of them actually, and I didn’t remember them being difficult or recalcitrant, but I did remember him saying that a good mule is ten times better than a horse but that a bad one was a hundred times worse.
I glanced at the little girl and shook the bucket some more, and the mule readjusted her forefeet in a try.
With the help of the children, we’d captured three donkeys and three other mules rather quickly with the bucket, but this larger one had been a little more standoffish. Taking a step closer, I held the lead rope behind my back in hopes I wouldn’t spook her, but my patience was running thin, and if she didn’t take the food in the bucket before long, I was going to be walking to Bidarte’s village as none of the other animals looked large enough to be able to carry someone my size.
I ached to get going but knew it was futile without assistance. I shook the bucket some more and angled it toward her. “C’mon, you’re not going to find any corn out here other than this.”
She was dappled gray and most likely had had an Appaloosa mother. She had expressive eyes and a lot of scars; the old woman had said her name was La Rucia, which means gray in Spanish, because that’s what color she was.
“La Rucia, you know she’s not the first to have that name.”
Alicia studied me.
“Sancho Panza’s mount was El Rucio.” I shook the bucket some more and was just about to give up when she took a step my way and tilted her head at me, the long, sensitive ear twitching.
“Read much Cervantes, Rucia?”
She eyed me but did extend her nose.
“We’re going to go tilt some windmills, you wanna go?” She nudged the bucket but then backed away. “Granted, they’re highly armed, psychotic windmills.”
Alicia reached into the bucket and scooped out a miniature handful and took a step toward the mule. She held it out to her, and Rucia lowered her head to nibble a little from the flat of the girl’s palm.
“Of course, that story ends with Don Quixote on his deathbed threatening to disinherit his niece if she marries a man who reads books about chivalry.” Sliding the lead rope from my shoulder, I handed Alicia the loop and watched as she gently draped it over Rucia’s nose and then on tiptoe tried to reach it over her crown, whereupon I reached out and slipped the loop around the mule’s head and over her long ears. “Not quite as whimsically literary as the first part, which Cervantes had written ten years previously, but the old guy was dying and needed to get a book out.”
The mule started, and I dropped the bucket but held the rope, and we stood there, the three of us looking at one another. “I’m not so sure the old Don should’ve ever recovered his senses.” Alicia held her hands out, and I lifted her onto my shoulders, picked up the bucket, and led Rucia reluctantly through the cactus and volcanic rock back toward the little ranch. “Sometimes, when there aren’t any other options, you should just stay crazy.”
We talked the whole way back to the dry ranch, none of us understanding the other but all of us enjoying the conversation. The sun was all of a sudden hot, and as I rounded the corral, I could see the full complement of our party engaged in a passionate argument on the porch as the three burros and three mules that were tied to the rail looked on.
I handed the little girl to Bianca, who was waiting at the edge of the porch. “You are ditching us?”
I tied the mule up with the other three and the three burros that I was thinking were too small to be of use. “To be honest, there are people who are going to be killed, most likely many people who will be killed, and I don’t want to have to worry about anybody while I’m up there.”
She held Alicia on one hip. “Worry about us? What, the woman and the blind man?”
“Everybody.”
She stepped off the porch and looked up at me. “Funny, because if I hadn’t been there in the bank you would probably be dead.”
“I’m not saying you weren’t a help.”
She sat Alicia down on the porch and then turned to thrust her chin out at me. “I will be again.”
“I can’t risk it.”
“You can’t.”
“My party, so I send out invitations.” It was harsh, I knew, but I couldn’t see me taking the entire ragtag team up the mountain to certain death. “I don’t know what Adan’s plans are, but if you want to help you’ll wait for us here.” I glanced toward the mountains. “If we make it . . . If we make it, I’ve got an idea we’ll be headed back this way at a high rate of speed and we’ll need somebody with the motor running.”
“You are so lacking in imagination.”
I nodded. “You wouldn’t be the first woman to tell me that.”
I collected my mule and took the leads on the three others, taking them all to the corral before she could say anything more. Alonzo had collected the gear and piled it on the railings along with a packsaddle and some large canvas bags.
The short stocky mule took the pad and packsaddle easily, and I had the suspicion it wasn’t the first time he’d had it on his back. “Are there any riding saddles?”
Alonzo stared at me. “I don’t know.”
I nodded and glanced toward the barn but figured first we needed to get a few things straight. “Are you coming? The only reason I’m asking is that if you are, I’m going to have to do something different with the mules.”
He glanced back at the house. “You really think we’re going to die?”
“Probably.”
“How can you be so calm about it?”
I thought about the running monologue I’d engaged in with the little girl in the desert and how I doubted she’d understood a word but was also glad that I’d had something to do other than stand out there and scream. “My daughter.”
He studied me, his face a question mark. “Because you love her?”
“Because I’ll do anything to get her back.” After tightening the cinch, I lifted the bags onto the cradle and balanced the load. “I’ve been in this business almost my whole life, and I can tell you that who’s the biggest, meanest, toughest, smartest doesn’t mean a damn thing. It’s who is willing to go further than anybody else, and to save my daughter, I’ll go as far as hell and back and never blink an eye.” I looked at him from over the packsaddle. “I don’t expect anybody else to do that—I couldn’t. So if you want to sit this one out, Alonzo, nobody’s going to hold it against you. Honest.”
I turned and walked toward the barn, entering it through the stalls beside a crumpled stone wall and found the tack area where a few old McClellan saddles were propped up along with some desiccated leather halters; I didn’t see any bridles so figured the halters must be what was used. When I moved them away from the wall, I uncovered some writing that read ZAPATA ESTABA AQUÍ!
“Somehow I doubt that.”
There was a noise to my left, and I saw Alicia standing by the rock wall. “Hi, you.”
She didn’t move, so I pulled down the halters and found a rag to wipe off the dust and cobwebs. I figured if there was any oil in the leather I might coax it out by rubbing the surface, so I stretched the things on the rough countertop that covered a manger and began rubbing the life back into them, and before long a slight shine began showing. “You don’t talk much, do you?”
She still didn’t say anything but sidled along the wall to stand near me.
“I was pretty much the same way—you can learn a lot by being quiet, people forget you’re there.”
She watched me polishing the tack and rested a hand on the edge of the counter.
“This job would be a lot easier if there was some oil around here—you don’t happen to know where some might be, do you?”
Depth of Winter Page 10