by J P S Brown
"No natural predator has bothered us as El Yoco did, until now," Martinillo said. "The Sinaloans are the only predators who bother us. Nobody ever thought to wonder where the Sinaloans got the money to come and camp on our streams with machine guns. If they had the money to buy the seed, why didn't they plant it in Sinaloa? They have the Sierra Madre there too. Why did they come all the way over here, where they had to kill people to do it? It has to be because, as my compadres say, someone in this region financed them. Who was already established here in the drug business thirty years ago and has harvested opium gum successfully for sixty years?"
"Don Nesib Lupino."
"Well, of course."
"I don’t think that old man wants to do away with us. That’s hard for me to believe, husband. My parents said that his opium crop was legal, that he sold it directly to the government. Doesn’t the government need it in every hospital? Aren’t hospital drugs made from opium?"
"All right, if that’s true, why didn't the Sinaloans camp on his watercourses to raise their mota? Why didn't they get their crops started on La Golondrina and then run to the officials in Chihuahua and denounce the Lupinos as marijuana growers? They tried it with every other big rancher in the Sierra: Vogel and Kane, the Guevaras, the Willys, the Breaches, the Floreses, the Parras, the Almadas, and many more. Vogel and Kane are the only ones who did not give up and sell their ranches to the Lupinos. Think of that. Who else has bought ranches in this region for the past thirty years when every other decent person gathered his belongings and hit for town?"
"Only the Lupinos."
"Nesib Lupino is the one against whom we should have warred all this time. When he and Jim Kane matched their horse race, he made Jim promise that he would not spy on the training of his horse Auda. Kane and Vogel wonder about that. Everyone knows they would never spy on an opponent's training, because they don’t have to. They can win regardless of the way their opponent trains his racehorse.
"Jim may have promised not to spy on Auda’s training, but I did not. I’m going to find out why don Nesib is so secretive about his horse. Does he want to hide something new about the training? Is it some person he hides? Or is it some place or camp that he wants to keep secret? He hides something. He must be senile to call attention to it, but he has done that. I’ve never seen his high country. I bet I find the answer to the wolves up there."
Martinillo rested a week and did the work he needed to do so his family would not need him for a while. He rode Kane’s mule Paseador to Guazaremos. At Guazaremos he packed Vogel’s mule El Negrito with his provisions and led him eight leagues southeast into the mountains to Vogel's Canela camp on the border of the high Sierra of La Golondrina. The Canela camp had a generator for electricity, but Martinillo did not fire it up because he wanted quiet. He had to know when any man or beast came near, and he did not want anyone to know he camped there. After he unsaddled the mules, he turned them loose to return to Guazaremos so he would not have to worry about them. He unlocked the house and went inside. Kane and Vogel had been the last ones to stay there. They had left a lot of canned provisions, so he would be able to stay longer than anticipated. He had brought fresh jerky. He found a box of .22 magnum cartridges, but he had left the rifle with Lucrecia. He found a bookcase full of cowboy novels that Kane had left there, but all in English. He picked one up to see what he could understand about it. "Sepa la chingada, who the fornication could know what it says?" he said, and put it carefully back into the bookcase.
Martinillo knew that Kane loved that place because it was in the deep middle of a separate world. He often made himself comfortable there with his work, his generator, his cowboy novels, and his beer. He sent Che Che Salazar with beer and novels to that remote camp even when he did not expect to be there for months. When he camped at Canela, he did not care if the rest of the world came apart, and he never left any beer.
Martinillo lit a coal oil lamp and cooked a supper of fried potatoes, onions, eggs, and jerky. After supper he sat on a veranda that faced north and the high Sierra of La Golondrina. From Canela, the high Sierra did not seem so far away and obscure. The high, quiet mountain peaks were at eye level. He commanded the high ground from a comfortable camp.
SIX
On the first day of spring roundup, Kane, his grandchildren, and Andres "the Lion" Cañez led five mules packed with their beds and provisions and drove a remuda of eight horses to Buster camp on the west side of the 7X. The seven-square-mile division that they planned to round up first was called the Ruby pasture. The north end of a range of mountains called the Sierra de San Juan cut it off from the other forty-seven square miles of the 7X.
The Ruby pasture was an open, high plateau with a good stand of native grass. Even people who had been Kane’s neighbors for twenty years knew little about it. Its only access was by horseback, and not many of Kane’s neighbors ventured off their ranches horseback. He could use it any way he wanted, because he owned it, and it was not the business of any government agency.
The only eastern access to Ruby pasture was through Buster Pass on the Sierra de San Juan, where Kane’s grandfather had built a cabin. When Kane was a youngster, all the neighbors knew about the Ruby, but through the years the Kanes had stopped talking about it, and now only bears, wolves, lions, Kanes, and an occasional illegal immigrant found their way through the pass. A trail that ran north and south crossed the border there and followed the spine of the Sierra de San Juan. Illegal immigrants were guaranteed unopposed entry into the United States if they used that trail. They were also guaranteed a place to rest and water, for natural springs welled up all along the trail. The vehicles of the migra, American border patrol, could be seen miles away from the vantage of that trail.
After the crew of the 7X corralled the remuda at Buster cabin, they unpacked the mules, remounted their horses, split up, and rode away again. The youngsters rode around their horse pasture fence to check for holes before the remuda was turned out. Kane and the Lion rode the high trail along the spine of the mountains to reconnoiter the pasture for cattle. They could see every inch of the 7X from various lookout points on the trail. They could watch the progress of the youngsters as they rode around the horse pasture.
Kane and the Lion stopped to look for cattle and enjoy a light breeze on a cliff beside the trail. They dismounted and took off their hats so the breeze would cool their sweaty heads. The brink of the cliff at their feet was more than a thousand feet above the pasture.
This spot was Kane's favorite place on the ranch. A clear spring flowed out of the ground beside their horses' feet. During wet times of the year, it became a waterfall that could be seen many miles away. This was the place that made him feel most that he owned the 7X. Seventy percent of the rest of it was owned by the U.S. government, and he only owned the grazing rights to it. Environmentalists and nature conservationists were suing the government for the abolition of grazing rights. Many of Kane’s fellow Arizona ranchers’ rights had been taken away, or drastically reduced. The reasons given were that cattle threatened a certain minnow in a ranch’s streams, or a certain woodpecker or owl in its trees. Cabins and corrals were being leveled because they had been ruled an eyesore to the natural order.
Kane was the fifth generation of his family to own the 7X and its government grazing rights. At the end of his life he would turn out his last bunch of cows on the Ruby pasture and live there by himself until he died. He would turn the rest of the outfit, or what was left of it after his grazing rights had been reduced on the government-owned part of it, over to his grandchildren. He would let them visit him when they needed him, but he would stay clear of the rest of the world during his final years.
Kane and the Lion had built a dam below the waterfall that held a large pool. They stepped to the edge of the cliff and looked down into its blue depths. Native trout already lived and multiplied there. Only he and the Lion knew that he had stocked the pool with the fish. They planned to go to that pool after they had located the cattle for t
omorrow’s drive. They would catch the first dozen trout ever caught there and surprise the youngsters with them.
Kane was about to put his hat on and find a good, solid stepping-stone on which to lift his bones into the saddle when he saw movement in the grassy center of the Ruby pasture. The Lion had already seen it.
"What’s that? It looks like a pack of people have surrounded something," Kane said. -
"People," the Lion said. "One, two, three, four big people have two little people surrounded."
"Damn my old eyes. Are they playing or fighting?"
"The little ones throw rocks at the big ones."
"It’s not coyotes after our calves, is it?"
"No, Jim. It looks like four men after some children."
“I’ll never come up here again without my spyglass," Kane said.
"We better get down there."
They stayed on the high trail north for another five minutes, then dropped off through a steep chute to a game trail that wound to the bottom of the mountain. Kane was riding his tough fourteen-year-old sorrel horse called Mike that was about half cold-blooded, but plenty big-hearted.
The eighty-five-year-old Lion rode a five-year-old bronc named Trago. Kane was in the lead, but when they reached a scree slope at the bottom, Trago bucked and lunged past him. The Lion grinned at Kane as he went by. The horsemen hit the grass at the bottom running, but they pulled up and slowed down to a steady lope so they would have plenty of horse under them when they reached the people.
They were not seen because when they reached the level plateau, a low ridge hid them. They pulled up behind the ridge about a hundred yards from the people and let their horses blow. Kane took down his forty feet of nylon, hard-twist rope and laughed when he saw that the Lion did the same. He said, "At least we’re well armed," and over the ridge they charged.
Four men with shaved heads dodged back and forth in a thick stand of sacaton grass. A boy and a girl had backed up to the ridge to throw rocks at them. The necks, faces, and heads of the men were tattooed. The two tall cowboys on twelve-hundred-pound horses must have looked big to them, because they stopped dodging rocks and stared. Kane picked the two on the left and the Lion picked the two on the right and they proceeded to run them down. Kane’s first thug was too surprised to move and save himself. All he did was say "Hey" when Kane’s horse ran over the top of him. When the second one saw that, he turned and ran for his life. Without looking back, he drew a tiny pistol and threw shots back at Kane. Kane caught up to him, rated him at the same pace, and bounced a loop of his rope off the shaved head, neck, and shoulders for ten good jumps before he let Mike’s hooves drag the man down.
Kane held Mike while he danced a Schottische on the tattoos. It bothered Mike to tromp on what he thought was a person, so Kane rode him off, dismounted, and stomped another tattoo on the thug’s head. He left him for dead and looked back to see how the Lion was doing. The Lion had caught one of his by both feet and was dragging him through the sacaton. The man’s head bounced like a volleyball across the open ground and flew high every time his carcass struck a clump of grass.
Kane found the .25-caliber popgun the thug had fired at him, removed the clip, and threw pistol and clip away in different directions. He rode back to see how much damage Mike had done to the first thug but could not find him. He went on to look for the two youngsters the thugs had tried to take.
He found the Lion’s other thug in high grass. His carcass lay in a heap on top of his head. Kane prodded him with Mike’s front feet and he rolled on his side. He seemed well on his way to the next world, if not already there. His neck looked broken.
The sacaton grass was so thick and high that Kane could not see the two youngsters. He rode in a wide circle, found their tracks, and followed them to a half-acre tank stocked with rainwater. He surprised them when he rode over its clay dam.
A girl about twenty and a boy about fourteen stared up at him with big eyes. They were small brown people from way down south and too tired to run. They were drinking the muddy tank water from a plastic cup. Kane saw in their faces that they believed he had come to gather them up and ship them home.
He stopped ten yards away. "Don’t be afraid of me. Where are you from?"
"From Michoacan," the girl said.
"Brother and sister?"
"Yes."
"Your names?"
"Concepcion Bojorquez," the girl said.
"Luis Bojorquez," the boy said.
"Where are you going?"
"Taos, New Mexico."
"Good place. Do you know how to get there?"
"Oh, yes," the girl said.
"You’ve been there before?"
"I’ve worked there four years/’
The Lion rode up leading three thugs with his rope around their necks. He had collared them with clove hitches. The thug who had fired his pistol at Kane was the burliest of the three.
"One of mine and your two can walk, but my other one is down with his pelón head under him/’ the Lion said.
"Man, are you trying to choke us to death, or break our necks?" the burly thug said.
"You don’t like it?" the Lion said
"No, we don’t like it, old man. Turn us loose, if you want to live." He reached up and tried to loosen the rope collar.
The Lion dallied the end of his rope on his saddle horn, spurred Trago into a run, jerked the thugs down in the dirt, and dragged them about ten yards before he pulled up and gave them slack. They sat up choking and clawing at their collars with their mouths full of dirt. "You like that better?" Kane asked.
Their mouths were too full of dirt and they were too choked to talk.
"We’re taking you back to Mexico. You can walk, or we can drag you by your necks. You decide which it will be while I talk to these children you tried to hurt, but keep your mouths shut except to spit out my dirt. Spit out all my dirt, because it’s not yours to keep."
Kane turned back to the children. "How will you make it to Taos?" Kane asked the girl.
She looked away. "Who knows?" she said.
"She doesn’t want to say," the Lion said.
”You don’t have to tell us," Kane said. "I only want to know if you can make it on your own from here."
"If someone doesn’t catch us," the girl said.
"How far do you have to go before someone picks you up?" the Lion asked.
". . . saaabe," the girl said and looked at the ground.
"It doesn’t look like you have far to go," Kane said. "You didn’t bring food or water, did you?"
"In here," she said and pointed to her small backpack.
"You can’t carry much in that."
She pointed to her brother’s pack.
"Have you come this way before and watered at this tank?"
"Yes."
"Why did you go to your home in Michoacan? Why risk being caught by the migra if you have a job in Taos? You were safe there."
"Our mother died."
"I’m sorry. Your father lives?"
"Yes."
"Take my advice and stay in Taos if he dies. He won’t know if you don’t go home. If he’s like me, he wants you to be safe."
Neither child said anything about that. They looked at the ground.
"How did you know about this route? Did your coyote bring you this way, then leave you?"
"We had no coyote guide. My father brought me the first time. This is my brother’s first time."
"I just wonder when this place is going to turn into a camino real, royal highway, like the trail that passes by our headquarters," Kane said to the Lion.
"We ought to attend to these pelónes before it gets dark," the Lion said.
"All right. That everything goes well for you," he said to the youngsters.
They looked at the ground while Kane and the Lion rode away with the thugs in tow.
"They don’t have far to go. They brought no food or blankets," the Lion said. "Somebody’s waiting for them close by."
&nb
sp; "I hope so. I don’t want to be the one who finds their dead little bodies," Kane said.
Kane and the Lion stopped the thugs beside the one who was down and still comatose.
"Is he dead?" Kane said.
"See if your filth is dead," the Lion ordered the burly thug. All three thugs had to kneel so the burly one could feel for a pulse. He looked up at the Lion and said, "I can’t feel a heartbeat."
The Lion dismounted and touched the fallen thug’s jugular. "It’s beating enough. Let’s go."
The three thugs stood and headed toward the border.
"No, no, no," Kane said. "Pick up your filth. You’ll leave no garbage here."
"How?" The burly one asked.
"Carry him," Kane said.
"How can we do that?"
"Show them, Lion," Kane said.
The Lion told the burly thug to grab the prone one under the arms and the other two to pick up the legs. The two who carried the legs started walking toward Mexico, but the burly thug saw that he had to carry a whole lot more weight and dropped his colleagues head on the ground.
"I can’t do this," the burly thug said. He knelt and stuck his fingers inside his collar to ease the strain. "I can’t and I won’t."
Kane got off his horse, hitched another length of the Lion’s rope around the burly thug’s ankles, threw the loop of his own rope around the prone thug’s ankles, remounted, and he and the Lion began to drag the pile of thugs toward the border in a tangle of rope, dust, brush, and cactus. After about ten yards the burly thug was the only one who could make a sound and he began to squeak, "I can do it, I’ll pick him up. Stop, stop, stop."
Kane and the Lion dragged the pile another ten yards before they stopped. The burly thug took the ropes off his and the prone thug’s legs and picked him up so he and his partners could carry him.