by John Horst
“Oh God, no!” Curtin grabbed her, held her, oblivious to danger around him. The general walked up on them, coolly, casually, as if he were taking a mid-morning stroll. He grabbed the reins of Rebecca’s mount, prepared to ride. He looked on at the lovers, the dying princess and the broken-hearted suitor. His face turned up in a greasy grin. He threw his leg over the saddle, agile for a fattish man. He looked down at them, pointed the pistol at Curtin’s temple and moved his head solemnly from side to side, “too soft, too soft.”
The bullet tore open the top of his skull as he dropped down beside her. He convulsed twice as blood covered the owl-eyed spectacles. Dan George holstered his gun and was now on them. He looked on at Curtin and gave a weak smile, now on at Rebecca who gazed skyward, scared and pale as parchment, the pain intense, nearly unbearable. “Oh, it’s just like mine, darling. It’s just like mine. He stuffed a handkerchief into the gaping wound and scooped her up, carried her back toward the hacienda, to her lovely room overlooking the road south, to her comfortable bed where Zapata’s surgeon could do his best work.
Dan hid his fear, speaking softly in her ear as he ran. It was not certain that she was going to live and now he felt that he might fall apart, he squeezed her tightly and stroked the back of her head, comforting her as he would an injured child.
The fighting had died down, most of the Federales were dead, a few lived, most of the wounded would not survive. Few of the freedom fighters suffered more than sunburn, it was a good day.
They began the ghoulish and inevitable battlefield scavenger hunt now, removing rings, gold teeth, watches, money, guns, ammunition, swords, knives, bayonets. The machinegun could be salvaged and two children used dead soldiers’ uniforms to wipe the mechanism clean before the blood of Marta’s victims could begin to corrode it beyond repair.
The ambassador could not be found and this they deeply regretted. It would have been a grand coup to bring him to justice now.
They all waited, impatiently outside of Rebecca’s room. Robert Curtin, the young engineer, the man who’d proudly declared that emotions never ran his life sat, broken, crying, now, nearly inconsolable. “All my fault, all my fault.” He sat forward with his head in his hands eyes red from crying so hard. Dan George patted him on the shoulder.
“Come on now man, you’ve got to be strong, be ready when she needs you.”
Zapata was respectful and kind to Marta. He could see it in her eyes. She was not easily shaken this one, but her most favorite person in the world was lying in the next room. They did not know if she would live or die. She held Zapata’s hand and he covered it, patted her gently with his palm.
“He’s the best surgeon in Mexico.” He waited for Marta to look up. “I only just captured him a few days ago. I told him I’d shoot him if Rebecca did not make a full recovery.”
She smiled a weak smile and looked into his eyes. “General, if she dies, I don’t know, I don’t want to live.” Curtin heard her and his tears began to flow more freely. He wasn’t embarrassed. He didn’t care who saw him cry.
An eternity passed and the surgeon finally emerged from her bedroom. He looked tired. He looked on at Zapata then to the others. “The wound is clean and the bleeding has stopped. She will likely lose some use of one lung, but they’ll live.”
Marta jerked her head up. “They’ll live?”
“Young lady, your sister is going to have a baby.”
Curtin was with her now. She opened her eyes and smiled, put up a hand to his battered face. She breathed uneasily.
“Rebecca, I’m sorry. I’m sorry. It seems I can’t do anything right by you.”
“Oh, I don’t know. You gave me a baby. We’re going to have a baby, Robert.”
“I know. When did you know?”
“For a while. Probably from the first time we were together. All that practice for naught.” She smiled. “I have to tell you something, Robert.” She was getting tired and the morphine was working on her mind. “I’m not, I don’t blame you, Robert. I should have shot him. I should have, but it’s not in my nature, Robert. They all teased me, my mamma and daddy and Marta, they all said I was the civilized one. It’s not your fault, Robert. No matter what happens, you have to know it’s not your fault.”
“Rebecca,” He was crying, nearly out of control now. “The doctor said you’re going to be all right. You’re going to be all right, Rebecca. Please, please rest, just rest. I’ll be here if you need me. Just rest.”
“One more thing, Robert.” She squirmed to get more comfortable. “What did you mean when you told Pedro, on the ship, when you said, once you get them on their backs it’s smooth sailing?”
His mind raced to remember, think back to the day. He smiled. “Turtles, darling, I was telling him about the turtles and my friend Abe. He said he’d use it for his headline, to get the word out about the cruelty, to give the public an understanding of the horror we saw.”
She smiled and drifted off. “Turtles.”
Marta and Dan George rode through the carnage with General Zapata. It was sad to see so many dead. Even if they were Federales, they were still Mexicans. It hit home that it was just another ugly, bloody civil war, brother against brother and now the US would be there, like a meddling, troublemaking neighbor. England did it to America all those many years ago, and now it was America’s turn to torture the people of Mexico, strengthen the brutes and bullies so that the freedom fighters didn’t stand a chance.
Dan George looked up at the sky. There was time if he left now. “Better be getting home, folks. Not certain I’d be popular in these parts, knocking of a Federale general.”
Zapata held up a hand, “Not to be a glory hound, but if you please, Mr. George, I’ll take credit for him. It will exonerate you and give my friend up en el Norte something to write about in his newspapers. He will be another notch on my Winchester’s stock. I make an extra fancy one for generals.”
Dan bowed to Marta and kissed her on the cheek, “Okay by me.” He turned his mount. “Boss, tell Rebecca I said goodbye and thank her for saving my hide. You Walshes are always getting me into and out of danger. I hope sincerely, now that you’re in your proper home, you’ll no longer need my services and go ahead and fire me.” He grinned and she understood. This was the second time Dan George nearly gave his life for the Walsh family.
“You’re fired, Dan.” She waved him off, “Adios, Dan, Good bless you.”
She smiled at the thought. It had, finally, fully sunk in now. First Zapata, now Dan George, they knew where she belonged. She looked around at the scarred walls of her hacienda. They were battle scars and she’d never have them repaired. They were the reminders of this scarred and battered land, the strife, the suffering, the unrelenting toil that was required to live in this place and she was proud to live here, proud to be given the honor of caring for it and the people on it. This is where she belonged and she’d be here for the rest of her days, whether that be the next hour or the next fifty years or beyond. She was home in her Mexico.
Dan George interrupted dinner as he sauntered in through the front door of his home, through the waiting room, the examination room and then finally the dining room. He breathed in all the old familiar smells, the leather chairs, antiseptic, alcohol, and Ging Wa’s cooking. He was greeted by his beloved family. Ging Wa could not contain herself, and it was pleasant for Billy Livingston and little Bob to see her so animated.
They were always cool to each other in public, as it was their way. Sometimes people wondered if they were actually married. She got his telegram and knew he was all right, had her cry then, but now it was just too much for her to contain. She jumped from her seat at the table and grabbed him firmly around the waist. She could not reach the tall man any higher.
Little Bob followed. He appeared to have grown an inch since Dan last saw him. “Pop!” He could grab his father a little higher and they all three stayed together, in a little huddle, while Billy tried to leave.
Dan didn’t look up from
his wife, but rather just called out to his old friend. “Supper’s not over, Billy, please, have a seat.”
Billy sat down and grunted at his plate. He did not like to be there, felt that he was spoiling the family reunion. He waited, uneasily and Dan finally disengaged. He stroked the heads of three dogs and even a cat as he made his way to the table, reaching over to grab Billy by the hand.
He finally sat down. “It’s good to be home.”
They both looked him over, clinically, now. Ging Wa was shocked that the man, who was slim to begin with, could have lost so much weight. He looked old, gaunt, more wrinkled and his hair had gotten greyer. His eyes shone, though. He was alive, happy, not emotionally touched by any of it. Dan George was a tough fellow and he’d survived his captivity in the old mine very well. He looked on at his boy who was devouring the food on his plate. Ging Wa smiled.
“I can’t keep food in the house.”
“How are the girls, Mate?” Billy was relaxed now that he’d been ordered back to his chair. He looked on at Dan and did his best to hide the worry over his second best friend in the world.
“They’re good, Billy. They’re both going to need you, though.”
Billy looked up from his plate.
“They’re going to need a good man to birth babies down there.” Dan smiled on at his wife. “Lots and lots of babies.”
Ging Wa became a little rigid in her chair. “I don’t know about that.” She looked on as the three of them looked up from their dinner. They’d not heard this tone but a couple of times in their lives. Dan grinned, sheepishly.
“We just got you back. I don’t want Billy down there now. Don’t even think those girls should be down there now. It’s a holy mess, just too much right now.”
Dan thought about the battle, remembered shooting the general through the head. He grinned at the thought of his wife not knowing the half of it. “Marta fired me.” He tried to assuage her fears.
She went back to her meal. “Those Walshes.” She grinned. “The most confounding people I’ve ever known.”
Billy grunted. “You can say that again, Ging Wa. You can sure say that again.”
Rebecca Walsh sat on the veranda growing her baby and healing her lung. No one was to smoke in her presence, ever again. Robert Curtin waited on her constantly. She was now beginning to take on the pregnant glow, and he was astounded that she could possibly look even more beautiful, but she did. He resolved to make certain that she’d never again leave his sight.
She had a good view of the road from the veranda and watched with interest the solitary rider. He was a big man, wearing military clothes. He was not a Federale. She suddenly called out as best she could, “Marta, Marta!”
“What is it, darling?”
She pointed and smiled.
Marta looked down on the rider as he approached the little plaza. She turned her head slowly from side to side. “Still wearing that silly hat.”
Pedro del Calle dismounted. He climbed the stairs and gave Rebecca a hug. He shook Curtin by the hand.
“Major.” Curtin looked on, nodding at the new insignia as Del Calle scoffed.
“Yes, well, Napoleon had it right, a soldier will fight long and hard for a bit of colored ribbon.” He grinned, “well, he got it almost right.”
He turned to Marta. “So, this is the famous hacienda of Marta del Toro?”
“It is.” She hunched up her shoulders and grinned. She loved seeing him. She was so pleased that he was there. She began beating the dust from his back and removed his hat. “You are a mess. You should have let us know, we’d have sent the machine for you.”
“Oh, those things’ll never catch on. I’ll take a horse any day.”
“I’m glad you’re here, Pedro.” She welled up a little. “I’m glad you’re here.”
“Are you, Marta?”
“I am.”
Robert moved Rebecca inside and now they were alone. Marta looked out on her land. She was proud of it and proud to show it to Pedro del Calle.
“Here long?”
“That’s up to you.”
“Oh, the United States Marines don’t have a say in it?”
“Not anymore. I’m through. Resigned, obligation’s up and I’m up, finished with them.”
“And now what?”
“Came here looking for work. Know anyone who’s hiring around here?” She reached over and kissed him gently on the cheek. He kissed her back, passionately, lovingly, on the mouth.
“What can you do?”
“Oh, lots of useful things, sail a boat, wrestle sharks.”
“Any good at taming wild horses?”
“Perhaps.” He kissed her again. “Marry me.”
“Is that an order or a request?”
“Take it as you will, what’s your answer, woman? Need to know, right here and right now.”
“Yes.”
Epilogue
There was a double wedding on the Del Toro ranch. Marta created a new cattle brand with bull’s horns on one side and a road on the other, melding the two family names. Pedro worked hard to catch up with Curtin and Marta del Toro did not mind at all.
The Walsh family was finally home from Europe and, including Abuelita, soon got over the little trick played on them by the girls. Even Pilar made the journey down from the mule ranch and soon became fast friends with Esmeralda, her counterpart to the south. They shared stories about the girls and looked on proudly as the two beauties walked down the aisle. No one minded that Rebecca’s dress was a little bulgy at the middle, and as with every decent wedding, they all had a good cry.
The girls each received a special wedding present from Chica. A gold locket with the inscription, Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle and the following note:
My Lovelies:
This is a gift and a reminder of all the good things that have come from this saying which is the thing that your daddy, my Arvel have lived by all his life. It is the reason why he made a wild Mexicana bandida fall in love with him one day when we met and he lassoed me and knocked me to the ground, ha ha. It is what we have tried to teach you all our time raising you and hoping that you would turn out to be the wonderful ladies you are. We are so proud. Keep living the saying, girls. It is a good saying and it is importante to know that everyone is fighting and they need a little kindness and understanding in their fight through life. Your daddy and me, we are very proud of you. Make many good babies and make them happy. Make sure they know the saying by heart. Make it in their hearts.
Love, Mamma.
Marta dismissed the mining company and Robert Curtin created his own. With the incredible yield they soon had everything they needed to do a first class extraction of the riches from the land. Emiliano Zapata and, now that he was out of jail, Pancho Villa would benefit as well as Marta and the family became devoted revolutionaries. They’d do their best to stop the rape of Mexico and hopefully, by example, show that the rich could be just and decent members of society.
Rebecca took charge of their little school and tirelessly worked to help others in the region. She’d make it her goal, her purpose in life to modernize education and healthcare in Mexico. This she found more valuable than studying art and literature at Smith and she never looked back.
Chica and Arvel spent more time in Mexico now. They had grandchildren to spoil and Arvel, heading into his seventh decade found sitting around the veranda more and more appealing these days.
Chica was more energetic and became instrumental in teaching the White Cigars how to fight. She’d work tirelessly to get the ragtag army to kill well, with maximum efficiency. She advocated for her sisters in arms and regretted that she was so old. She would have made a formidable soldadera.
Abuelita worked quietly from Maryland, exercising her influence when she could. It was an uphill battle. There was just too much money at stake for the influential and powerful of America to worry about the injustice in the land. The profits were too dear, too great to risk in
the event that the socialists or anarchists should gain a foothold to the south. And it was that sort of thinking that would make it possible to lose. Democracy would work, if only they’d give it a chance in Mexico. All too often the brutish totalitarians and dictators were chosen over what was right and just.
Abraham Myer did some good work on the New York Times, making it known the cruelty suffered by sea turtles just for the enjoyment of the well-to-do. His article, Once you get them on their backs was a hit and both disgusted and mobilized many interested in the welfare of all creatures, whether they served as pets, beasts of burden or even table faire. The New York Supreme Court would eventually hear the case and it was gratifying to think that something would soon be done about the barbaric treatment of these majestic creatures.
Marta learned that she really did love men and she’d content herself with one and only one. She was a good hacendado, wife and mother. She learned to love, but more importantly, learned to love herself and recognize that she was a truly, genuinely good person. She learned to forgive herself for her deeds as a young bandit and she learned, now fully appreciated that it was a good thing to be happy, and she was, for the rest of her days.
Maria’s Trail
The Early Adventures of Chica,
Heroine of The Mule Tamer Trilogy
John C. Horst
© 2012 John C. Horst
I Curanderas
The child watched the curandera work on the old woman. The hovel was dark and hazy with smoke from the old healer’s cure. She leaned close to her patient as she spread the mixture of ointment and dirt and saliva onto the woman’s chest. In a little while the invalid would be resting again and the girl was hopeful as she watched the witchdoctor gather up her belongings. She followed her out into the little yard.