Wolves At Our Door

by J P S Brown

  Martinillo’s lair was directly above the spot where Abdullah wiped the water out of Auda’s coat. Martinillo’s face was concealed by meager brush on the edge of the lair. He was almost positive that once, while Abdullah stood on the other side of Auda and faced Martinillo’s hiding place as he scraped the water off the horse’s side and his eyes barely cleared the horse’s back, he looked up suddenly and his gaze locked with Martinillo’s.

  Martinillo thought it improbable that their gaze met for that one instant, but he could not be sure. Abdullah looked and acted like a hawk, so he might have the eyes of a hawk. A hawk could have seen him, a hawk that felt his gaze and looked up into the true line of sight that Martinillo had established. This often happened between a hunter and his prey, especially when the prey was another predator.

  Martinillo did not feel secure in his lair anymore. The longer the afternoon wore on, the more he felt that he had been discovered. He watched Abdullah and worried when he went away from the corral and out of sight.

  An hour after sundown, Martinillo could not lie still another minute. The airplane had flown away. The pelones and hooded men had gone inside their bunkhouse. Rafa and the man with no face had gone down the canyon with rifles. Ibrahim and Abdullah had gone into the cookhouse with the women. That cookhouse was against the wall of the ravine, and the wall had a deep chute in it. Martinillo could see that someone might go out the back door of the cookhouse and lose himself in the chute. If that someone knew a way to climb out of the ravine through the chute, Martinillo was in trouble.

  Martinillo picked up his belongings, struck out for Canela feeling stiff and heavy as a bee laden with honey and did not look back. For a half minute after he first left his lair he was in view of the camp, but he put his head down and moved out as surely as he could. He found a game trail on a line toward Canela. He watched for the sentry on horseback, but did not worry about the sentries on foot. He thought he had them all located.

  He was about to top the last ridge that would put him completely out of sight of the ravine when a bullet knocked him down. At first he did not realize he had been shot, only that he had been knocked down and could not breathe. He then knew that he had been hit high between his right shoulder and his spine, and his neck and right arm were shocked numb. His breath finally returned and with it a lot of pain.

  He had to move to live. He would be dead in five minutes if he did not find a place to hide. He could not take time to stop the bleeding. The blood filled his shirt, front and back. He hoped his clothing would sop it so he would not leave a trail. He hoped he could find a place to hide before he fainted. His legs worked well enough. He saw a canyon a hundred meters away and hurried toward the edge. A solid apron of granite covered the brink. He would leave no trail on that granite. From the edge of the cliff he looked down at a narrow ledge of rock. If he could drop the fifteen feet to that ledge and not bounce into the bottom of the canyon five hundred feet below, he could get out of sight immediately and might find a permanent place to hide. He let himself fall.

  He landed solidly on both feet on the ledge. Pain shot from his feet clear into his back teeth, but he stuck to the ledge. He saw a crack in the cliff where he might hide if he could squeeze through the opening. He squeezed through and found room to let himself down through a chimney. He found another ledge that could not be seen from the crack above. He stretched out on the ledge and fainted.

  He soon awoke and cut up his blanket to stop the bleeding on both sides of his shoulder. The bullet that struck him had pierced him through and through without exploding, but the bleeding was bad on his breast where it came out. He stopped that up with hierba el pasimo, an herb hunters and vaqueros carried to heal wounds. After his wound stopped bleeding, he would bandage it with the sticky leaves of green chicum.

  He carried that too. Hunters and vaqueros carried their own means of first aid in the Sierra, or knew where they could find it quickly. Martinillo heard his searchers’ voices on top the cliff. He saw the beams of their flashlights light the canyon below him. He saw their glow through the crack above his chimney but none of them touched him. He heard the helicopter pass overhead and its spotlight shined on the canyon below, then hovered right above him and illuminated most of his hideout with a bright, white light. He felt the wash of its blades too, but it went on without him. He fainted into a long spell of unconsciousness before he knew for certain that his enemies would not find him.

  EIGHT

  Dolly Ann and Cody Joe returned to El Trigo with Kane after the spring roundup at the 7X. Marco Antonio met them at the air-strip with Gato, Paseador, and Negrito and finally got to see Dolly Ann. His first sight of her when she stepped out of the airplane struck him dumb. He could not move or speak until she smiled at him, waved, and called his name. Then he ducked his head, turned and busied himself with the horse and mules, and only murmured an answer.

  "Here’s La Muñeca, Marco Antonio," Kane called. He knew how bashful the boy was, and he could not help but rub it in. The bloodless streaks appeared again on his cheeks.

  Dolly Ann walked up to him with her hand outstretched. He took it, but did not know what to do with it, so she pumped his hand up and down, then smiled into his face. Cody Joe stepped up to give him an abrazo and he remembered how to do that, so he looked at the tops of the pine trees and patted his friend on both shoulders.

  As they rode away from the airstrip toward Guazaremos, Kane asked Marco Antonio about his grandfather Martinillo.

  ”While he was home we killed four of the wolves, or whatever they were," Marco Antonio said.

  "You killed them how?" Dolly Ann asked.

  Marco Antonio told them about the wolves’ raid on the Martinillo stock at Las Animas and how they were received by the family. "Good." Cody Joe said. "That’s just right for them."

  "Nooo," Dolly Ann said. "Don’t wolves have a right to live?"

  "Wolves do," Kane said. "Not those fake things that have been raised on beef and kept close to people. They need killing. You killed four, Marco Antonio? What happened to the other one?"

  "A female got away."

  "She’ll have a litter"

  "She might."

  "So, where did your grandfather go? To hunt the female?"

  "He went to hunt Lupinos. He was angry at them for turning the wolves out in our country. He said he also wanted to find out why don Nesib did not want us to spy on his racehorse."

  "¡Ay caray! I promised don Nesib we wouldn’t spy on him," Kane said. "Did your grandfather go to La Golondrina?"

  "I think so."

  "How could he do that? He knew I promised we wouldn’t spy on their horse"

  "My grandfather said that you made that promise, but he didn't."

  "Carajo. Well, he has a right to find out more about people that turn wolves out to prey on his livestock. When will he be back?"

  "He said he would return for the roundup."

  "He’s probably at Guazaremos waiting for us."

  The conversation between Marco Antonio and Dolly Ann livened up, and it seemed to Kane that Marco Antonio made the girl laugh a lot. He sure did not make Kane and Cody Joe laugh, but then Kane could not see his expressions and it took a whole lot to even make Cody Joe smile. Kane usually rode in silence, because he liked the stillness of big country. That day with Marco Antonio and Dolly Ann laughing and talking and even singing along, he felt that he was part of a darned cavalcade.

  They stopped at El Trigo Pass to have a look at the country before they started down the long mountain trail to Guazaremos. The view quieted them. This was the driest time of the year. The forest was green but wore a burden of dryness that dulled its color. The country wore a coat of dust, but the view north from El Trigo Pass was a feast for the three Kanes’ eyes.

  The riders stood a mile higher than the Mayo River that they could see underneath the horizon twenty miles away They could see Guazaremos, their destination, on the south side of the river. They could see the trail that began at their feet
and dropped to sea level over twenty miles of rocky ground, deep canyons, and spiny thickets.

  "You see Guazaremos?" Kane asked his youngsters.

  "I see El Limon there below us," Cody Joe said.

  "Then Teguaraco and Gilaremos, a little farther," Dolly Ann said.

  "Then the white ravine below Guazaremos," Kane said.

  "And we’re there," Marco Antonio said, and laughed. ”It’s only eight hours away."

  "We can see almost the whole ranch right here at our feet," Kane said. ”It’s all in this bowl below us that is bordered by the cordon of mountains of Guasisaco on the west, the mountains of Canela on the east, and the Mayo River on the north. It can’t get away, and we can’t get lost. The peaks of those blue mountains of the high Sierra north of Canela are fifty miles from here."

  "Where’s La Golondrina?" Cody Joe asked.

  "On this side of those blue mountains," Marco Antonio said, and pointed to them. "My grandfather is up above in that high Sierra, somewhere."

  The Kanes and Marco Antonio rode into the yard of the Guazarernos hacienda an hour before sundown. Juan Vogel stepped out into the yard with a glass of mezcal in his hand and his hat on the back of his head. The El Trigo roundup crew was having a feast at the end of the first day of branding. Miguelito, a Guarijía Indian who lived with his family at Guazaremos, had a mezcal distillery, which gurgled only fifty feet from the front door of the main house. The crew was enjoying a banquet of mezcal and criadillas, calf nuts, that they had harvested in the corral with their ropes and knives that day.

  The roundup of the four El Trigo divisions had become a vacation time for these vaqueros who had been raised on the El Trigo ranch. They would split up and return to their homes after the Guazaremos roundup. They had already gathered the El Limon, Teguaraco, and Gilaremos divisions.

  Only Miguelito and Che Che Salazar, who cared for the El Trigo hacienda on top of the mountain, stayed on the ranch when cattle were not being worked. The other vaqueros had more lucrative ways to make a living. They helped Kane and Vogel gather and work their cattle in the spring and fall, but they ran their own ranches and transported their crops to market the rest of the time. They helped on El Trigo purely out of loyalty. The partners could only pay them twelve dollars a day. They made two hundred times more than that in their other enterprisecalled la mota.

  These vaqueros were all either godsons of Kane and Vogel, or compadres, fathers of the godsons, or uncles of the godsons. This stock of vaqueros had helped on El Trigo for 12o years. One benefit the present generation received by returning to El Trigo for the roundup was the pure joy and fun of la vaquereada, the cowboy work, for which they had been born. The other joy of it came with the annual look they were given at each other’s faces, the faces of new youngsters who joined the crew and the faces of Kane and Vogel. Cody Joe and Dolly Ann had begun to help on the roundup of the Guazaremos division five years before, but had stayed home with Kane after he was injured.

  Kane began to worry the next morning when he went to the kitchen for coffee with Vogel and found that Martinillo had not returned. He did not worry about himself and the crew being short Martinillo’s reata, or that Martinillo was not tending to business, but he did worry about the safety of his carcass. Kane knew that wherever he was, he would look out for Kane and Vogel. He was their mayordomo. Whatever he had found to do on La Golondrina must have turned out to be more important than the Guazaremos roundup, but he would only fail to show up for a roundup because of trouble. Martinillo was not on a friendly mission, was there without being invited, and was no friend of the Lupinos. He had not made them his enemies, but they did not know him well. Cody Joe and Marco Antonio were ready to leave with Gato to start his training for the race in Rio Alamos, so Kane made himself stop worrying about Martinillo. If anyone could take care of himself in the Sierra Madre, even surrounded by people who would do him harm, Adan Martinillo was the man.

  Cody Joe and Marco Antonio stood in front of their mounts Negrito and Paseador. Marco Antonio held Gato’s lead rope.

  "Aren’t you taking a pack mule?" Vogel asked Marco Antonio.

  "No, if we leave now we’ll be in San Bernardo early this evening," Marco Antonio said. "My father and uncle will meet us there with their truck to take us and the animals to Rio Alamos tonight."

  "You ought to take it easier than that," Kane said. "I don’t think you can make it to San Bernardo before midnight."

  "A lo mejor," Cody Joe said. "You’re probably right, Pappy."

  "Nooo, we can make it to San Bernardo by eight o’clock unless both our mules step in the same hole. These are the best saddle mules in the Sierra," Marco Antonio said.

  "Don't kill our mules," Vogel said. "You young people think you can run mules the way my daughter Mari runs her cara hundred and fifty kilometers an hour. You think you have to go as fast as you can over bad trails and good. Take it slow. We would rather you made it to Rio Alamos tomorrow night. Better for you and better for our racehorse. I want him to make us rich. Go at an even pace, even though it pulls your mouths down at the corners and seems a much too ponderous way to go."

  "We’ll not turn a hair on these animals," Marco Antonio said. "But we have to go now."

  With that the two boys mounted their mules and led Gato up the trail. Kane and Dolly Ann watched them go. Just before the trail led them into Arroyo de Guazaremos out of sight, Marco Antonio turned and waved. Dolly Ann waved back.

  The crew had been branding, vaccinating, and castrating two hours when Jacobo and Rafa Lupino showed up for a visit. They had heard that Kane’s grandchildren were there and wanted to meet them. Kane was on his good horse, Lagarto, Lizard, roping and dragging calves to the branding fire, and he did not go near them. Vogel dismounted to receive them, and that was fine with Kane. He did not care if he ever spoke to either of them again.

  After Rafa shot off his mouth about being an enemy of Americans and their women, then insulted Dolly Ann, how could he be considered a friend? Two hundred families had lost their homes and ranches in the region because of the Lupinos’ opinions and activities, so how could they be his friends?

  Kane and Vogel had not lost anything of their own except the real friends who had been dispossessed by the Lupinos. How nice to be so privileged. But the Lupinos’ bid for El Trigo might indicate that Kane and Vogel would not be so privileged anymore.

  Kane was busy in the middle of the work in the corral when he saw Vogel call Dolly Ann over to meet the Lupino brothers. She marched up to them and smiled into their faces and shook their hands. After the criticism Rafa had spouted about American women, Kane felt defensive about his granddaughter’s looks. The girl wore tight jeans and a tailored, snap-button shirt. Her figure was plenty evident, but how could she hide it any better unless she wore a rebozo on her head, a floor-length robe, and a veil? She wore her old hat pulled down over her eyes so that she had to tilt her head back to talk to the Lupinos, but it did not hide her pretty face. She wore bright red lipstick, her complexion was clear as a cloudless sky, and her blonde hair shined like placer gold. She was darned good looking, and any shittin’ Arab who would say she was a whore for the way she dressed had a twisted mind.

  Kane worried when Dolly Ann returned to her duties at the branding fire with a flushed and serious face. Mexican men like to praise youngsters to their faces in a gentlemanly way and the Lupinos might only have done that, but the look on Dolly Ann’s face made him think she had been insulted, even though Juan Vogel had been there to referee.

  Dolly Ann’s job that day was to be the doctor and the tarbaby. She daubed medicinal tar on the fresh brands and the bleeding scrotums of the calves and wielded a syringe to vaccinate against disease. Vogel mounted his horse to help Kane rope the Lupino yearlings they had bought. The Lupinos moved over to sit near Dolly Ann’s station. The kind of attention Rafa began to give her did not suit Kane at all. Jacobo tried to keep his brother in check. Rafa leered and said things to Dolly Ann and Jacobo tried to shut him up. Ka
ne could not hear any of it, but he could read the smirk on Rafa’s face and Dolly Ann’s reaction to what he said. She kept blushing with her eyes downcast.

  The crew broke at noon and Dolly Ann took the bucket of criadillas to the kitchen. She and Miguelito’s wife Neli cleaned them, rolled them in cornmeal, fried them in deep fat, and prepared to serve them to the crew on hot corn tortillas.

  Kane, Vogel, and the vaqueros washed their faces and hands and rested in the shade while Dolly Ann and Neli prepared the lunch. Rafa Lupino was not dumb enough to insult Dolly Ann in front of the crew. He did not want to get his throat cut. The crew adored La Muñeca. These vaqueros were not the kind to fight with their fists. They filled their hands with weapons to kill when a fool made them angry. Each of them carried a fine El Arbolito blade, a gift from their patrón Jim Kane.

  Dolly Ann served the crew their criadillas wrapped in tortillas. She poured coffee in the vaqueros’ and guests’ cups with one hand and held the sugar bowl for them with the other. She attended to each of them as though one of them had not spent the past hour insulting her.

  The crew settled down and dozed in the shade after lunch. Kane and Vogel went into the dining room of the hacienda to tally their cattle. Jacobo went away to make sure his and Rafa's horses were still in the shade. Dolly Ann and Neli washed dishes and pans and straightened the kitchen.

  During the lull, Rafa went into the kitchen after Dolly Ann. Anyone could slip up on anything in that old kitchen, because the lumber floor had long since rotted out and only a dirt floor remained.

  Rafa asked for more coffee. Dolly Ann filled his cup without looking at him, turned her back to him, and went on with her business. She and Neli kept up a quiet conversation and ignored him. Dolly Ann had already forgotten what he looked like, because she always forgot the features of the people she disliked.

  What Rafa did next to Dolly Ann did not come to light until later that day after what came to be known as Rafa Lupino’s Skinning. After a while, when it seemed to Dolly Ann and Neli that Rafa had only come into the kitchen to grin and stare at them, Neli went out to see to her babies and left Dolly Ann alone with him.