by Horst, John
Maria’s Trail
The First Adventures of Señora Chica Walsh,
Hero of The Mule Tamer Trilogy
John C. Horst
Maria’s Trail
Copyright ©2012 by John Horst
ISBN-13: 978-1479329397
(CreateSpace-Assigned) ISBN-10: 1479329398
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be used, reproduced,
stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any
means without the written permission of the author.
Cover art by Kevin Moore
Editing, Composition, and Typography by www.ProEditingService.com
Special Note: This edition of Maria’s Trail is designed to provide entertainment for the reader. It is a work of fiction. All the characters, organizations and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
Our views and rights are the same: You are responsible for your own choices, actions, and results.
For Jimmie D. Flanagan
Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle
Contents
Chapter I: Curanderas
Chapter II: Alone
Chapter III: Juana
Chapter IV: Going Home
Chapter V: Padre
Chapter VI: Crisanto
Chapter VII: Rosario
Chapter VIII: The Virgin of Guadalupe
Chapter IX: Metamorphosis
Chapter X: The Fence’s Pretty Assistant
Chapter XI: Gold Tooth
Chapter XII: Colonel Charles Gibbs, Esq.
Chapter XIII: Alejandro del Toro
Chapter XIV: Deutsch-Mexikanisch
Chapter XV: Tapachula
Chapter XVI: El Norte
Chapter XVII: The Mule Tamer
Chapter I: Jezebel
Chapter 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.
The curandera was even more frightening in the daylight and she stank of her treatments. Her breath was bad. It reeked of the various things she smoked and blew onto her patients. The little girl looked at the medicine woman scratching her backside as she pointed to the remaining chickens. The girl complied. She didn’t need to be told, she knew that the payment would be dear. The sick woman had no earthly possessions, money, jewelry or any goods of consequence. The little girl didn’t know what they’d do without chickens as now there’d be no eggs.
“She is beyond my help.” The curandera eyed the chickens doubtfully. The little girl wondered why, then, she was being paid. The curandera looked at the child and wagged her head slowly from side to side. “There is another, in the next village, who will help her but it will cost more than chickens.”
“How much?”
The healer tipped her head toward the hovel. “More than she has in the world.”
“How much?” The child was precocious and the healer gave her a weak smile.
“Let her die, child. Let her die.”
“How much?”
“Ten centavos.”
The little girl kept her face stone-like. She calculated in her head. She’d never heard of such a sum.
She thought hard and replied without thinking. “Will you fetch her here? I will get the money.”
The curandera became severe. “I will, but if the payment is not made, it will not go well for you or anyone who lives here. You understand, child? You understand that if the debt is not paid, it will not go well for anyone here?”
“I understand.”
The other one would be here in three days, she promised, as she tied the chickens together by the legs. Now, added to the curandera’s odor was the stench of chicken manure. She was gone.
The little girl prepared the last of the eggs while the old woman slept covered in the strange thick paste. She’d begun stinking from being ill and the treatment made her nearly unbearable. The child was diligent in keeping her clean but now this seemed impossible. The curandera gave no instructions on how long the unguent must stay. Would it dry and peel off, would it continue to stink? The little girl did not know.
The old woman stirred momentarily, but drifted off again and the little girl began taking an inventory. She dug up the treasure the old woman kept hidden. She had her dowry necklace. The little girl put it on. The old woman used to pull it out every so often and put it on the child and now she looked down at it, hanging low. It was big and the child was very small. It was supposed to be hers one day. It was made from old coins and they’d be worth something.
She dug some more. There was a gilt mirror and hairbrush. The bristles were mostly gone and the gold had mostly worn away, only a metal color showed through on the high spots and sides. But it was beautiful and one could still see a reflection in the glass. It must be worth something as well.
Then there was the old woman’s work. She’d made some good baskets before she’d gotten so ill and they must be worth something.
She thought about the amount she needed. There were the two goats. They’d make it all up but then they’d have nothing. The chickens were gone and if the goats were gone there’d be nothing left. She thought about this. If she didn’t get rid of everything, the old woman would surely die. But if she did get rid of everything, the old woman would perhaps live but they’d have nothing to live on. It was a significant problem.
“What are you doing, child?”
The little girl looked up. The old woman was awake. She took the string of coins from around her neck and moved over next to the old woman. She gave her a drink.
“Wash this from my body, hija.”
“But it is the cure.”
“Bah. Take it off. It stinks of shit.”
The little girl complied and the old woman did not stink so. Her breath was still horrible, not like the curandera’s, as the old woman did not smoke, but of some kind of dreadful odor that the little girl did not know. It was the smell of impending death and there was no way to take it away.
“But you will perhaps die.”
“When?”
She laughed a little at her own joke until she saw the effect it had on the girl. She reached up and touched her gently on the face. “What are you doing with these things?”
“The curandera cannot heal you but she can bring in another. They need payment to heal you.”
“Hah.” She thought of how to break the news to the girl. She was already weakening from the little bit of talking she’d done. She breathed deeply and her chest rattled. She coughed and spit into a rag. “You keep them safe, child. Keep them safe.” She looked at the mirror and brush and asked the child to bring them to her bed.
The old woman looked them over as if she were trying to remember them. She held up the mirror and looked into it. She then looked at the child. “See this, hija, see what is in there?”
“Me.”
“You remember this, child. There is no one else in the world. No one else will take care of you in the world. Only this one.” She pointed at the little girl’s reflection. “Never forget that, child.” She pointed again. “This is the only one who you can rely on and trust. You remember that, child.”
She fell back and rested her hands by her sides. The little girl took the mirror and brush; she covered up the old woman and hid the treasures. Gathering the water jars, she walked outside
.
It was getting late and a few people in the little settlement milled about. The mean man was there and he saw her. He sauntered up to her and looked her over dismissively.
“Is she dead yet?”
The little girl didn’t want to answer, but he was important in the little settlement and she wanted no trouble.
Before she could speak the important man’s wife interjected. “Don’t talk like that to the child.”
“Whore’s spawn.”
“Stop it.” The mean man’s wife was not so mean and the little girl could not understand why she was with him. The mean man’s wife walked up to the girl and regarded her. She brushed back her long black hair and put her hand to her cheek. “How is your old mother?”
“She’s not her mother. She’s an old woman.” The man spit tobacco juice as he spoke. “She’s the whore’s spawn,” he pointed, accusingly and self-righteously at the child.
The wife took the girl away from the mean man and they walked a little way to the well. The girl worked and the woman watched her. “What did the healer say?”
“To let her die.” The little girl filled the jars. “But I told her to get another healer. She’s coming in three days.”
“I see.” The wife sat down and looked at the child. She was smart this one. She’d survive, but it was sad to see that she’d have nothing when they’d finished. The old woman would be dead in a week, probably, and then the girl would have nothing and the woman’s husband would not let her live in the hovel alone. The child interrupted her thoughts.
“Where can I sell some things?”
“What things?”
“Just some things. I need the money for the second healer.”
“Nuevo Casas Grandes would be best. There is a man there. He has a store. He would buy some things I guess.”
The little girl turned and slowly walked away. She was thinking of all the things she needed to do. She was soon back at the shack. She’d never been to Nuevo Casas Grandes but knew it would take a whole day to get there and a whole day to get back.
She thought about the old woman being alone for two days. The mean man’s wife would not help her. She couldn’t help her as the mean man would not allow it. She decided she could make up food for the old woman and leave it nearby, within easy reach. That would not be a problem. She’d likely soil herself though. She’d have to lie in her waste for two days.
She looked outside and reasoned that it was too late to do anything now. If she worked late into the evening, she’d have everything prepared and could leave before sunrise in the morning. She’d be back in time for the healer and have the payment. It would be enough, it had to be enough.
She worked and the old woman slept.
Nuevo Casas Grandes was overwhelming. She’d never seen so many people and she soon realized that she was not dressed anything like them. She wore, literally, rags and was barefoot. She knew well enough that she’d not be taken very seriously in her present state.
She spotted a stable. She washed in the trough and braided her hair. She adjusted her rebozo to cover the top part of her dress and carefully cut away the ragged part of the skirt. She could do nothing about her feet but wash them the best she could. She pulled out the mirror and looked herself over. She didn’t look so bad now. At least she was clean.
She surveyed her treasures. The goats traveled well enough and she could not believe that all of it would not be enough for the amount needed. She decided to hide the necklace and looked around.
There was a spot at a corner of a building with loose rocks and earth. She looked to see if anyone was watching her and saw no one. She dug a little hole and hid the necklace there. If worse came to worst, she could always try and sell it to make up any shortfall.
She was ready now but a bit shaky. She wasn’t hungry, but the thought of going into the grand and fancy store and talking to a stranger, selling her pathetic goods, made her shake. She resolved to eat a little and drink from the trough. That helped the shaking to stop. She looked at her reflection in the water and thought about what the old woman had said. She took a deep breath and let it out. She was ready now.
She tied the goats to the post outside and entered the store. It immediately made her shaky and dizzy again. It was more than she could take in; the odor of the fresh straw from new brooms mixed with finely dyed fabric, new leather and chemicals, coffee and candy and so many odors she’d never known. She looked around at dresses and fabric for rebozos and fancy hats. It was the most beautiful place she’d ever seen.
A man was behind the counter. He looked at her and smiled. She did not expect that. She expected someone like the mean man and he wasn’t anything like the mean man. She suddenly felt a little fluttery in her stomach. The man seemed to be good and kind.
“Well, young lady.” He looked behind her and all around for an adult and realized she was all alone. This made him even friendlier. “How may I help you?”
She looked at him and hesitated, she couldn’t seem to find her voice. He looked like a nice man. He had a big smile and good teeth. They weren’t stained or black or missing anywhere. He wore a white high collar around his neck made from a material she’d never seen before and a colorful cravat protruded from the collar. He wore a vest that matched his trousers and his sleeves were clean, everything was clean. He looked through little oval glasses and he had no hair on his face at all. His face seemed as smooth as a lady’s. She was very impressed with all of this.
“I have things to sell and was told to see you.”
“I see.” He beckoned her to the back of the store, to his desk where she could sit down and not have to reach up high to the counter. This made her fluttery again; she knew this part of the store was not for customers. He was a very nice man.
She sat and pulled the items carefully from a sack. She then laid the sack down, as it too was for sale. She’d have no use for a sack if he would buy the other things.
He looked them over carefully.
“And two goats.” She turned her head, then pointed at the front of his store.
“I see.” He picked up the useless items and turned them over in his hands, as if he were regarding some great heirlooms. He did not look up from them but asked her, talking toward the items as if they’d give him the answer to his questions, “Why do you need to sell such things, child?”
He finally looked up, looked into her eyes with a tenderness she’d never known.
“The old woman, eh, the woman who cares for me.” That sounded silly because she’d been caring for the old woman for more than a year now. “She’s sick and I need money for the curanderas.”
“I see. And your mother or father, cannot they do this? Cannot someone else help you in this?”
She answered automatically. “There is no one else.”
“I see.” The man became animated. He was excited and suddenly sat back in his chair. “Well, let’s see,” he stroked his chin and regarded the items. “I have no use for goats, so I can give you nothing for them. He picked up the brush and mirror. “The bristles are gone and the finish is gone. The mirror needs to be re-silvered. So, I am sorry, but no, they have no value.”
He watched her face fall. She was about to tell him about the necklace when he continued. “How much do they need?”
Te…twenty centavos.” She didn’t know why she lied to the nice man, but thought it would be better to start high. He laughed as he could see her little lie, and then grinned a fatherly grin at her.
“Twenty centavos! A king’s ransom!” He stood up and held out his hand. “Little girl,” he stopped himself and walked away. She watched him as he retrieved a box and opened it. She could see great piles of paper money and coins. He laid out ten centavos before her. He went back to the box and gathered more coins. He placed another pile of coins next to the first one. She could not understand why. He smiled and continued.
“The pile on the left is ten centavos, little one. The pile on the right is one hundred.” H
e stood up again and walked to the front of the store. He turned the sign around and locked the door. He returned and picked out a pretty blue dress hanging on a rack and held it up to her, under her chin. “Lovely, lovely. And just the right size.”
She suddenly felt weak again, like her legs were made of lead, like something had happened to them and she was afraid that she would not be able to move them when it was time to leave. She didn’t like this and wanted the man to stop. She found she could not speak; blood pounded in her chest and ears and was giving her a headache. She could only watch him, wait and see what he was going to do next. He sensed this, too, and continued.
“Little girl.” He held up his hands ever so kindly. “I will not harm you. As God is my witness, I would never harm you. I, I lost my little girl and my wife and, I, just want to be nice to you.”
She relaxed and he continued. “I will give you all the money on the desk,” he looked at the two piles of coins, “and this lovely dress and some shoes if you’ll just be nice to me.” He patted her gently on the cheek, “And you can keep all your treasures.”
She regarded him. He was nice. She did not understand his kindness. It was confusing, but she’d known some kindness like this before. Wasn’t the old woman kind to her for the same reason? The old woman took her in because she’d lost all her children, and her husband was dead. Wasn’t this the same thing?
She felt the flutter again. It was going to be all right. He’d even picked the dress that caught her eye when she’d first come into the store. It was as if he knew what was in her mind. Then she thought of the money. A hundred and ten centavos! And she could keep the goats and the mirror and brush and the necklace.
It was overwhelming and she was more than a little proud of herself. She’d make the old woman well and they’d be fine. They could buy extra goats and more chickens and they’d be good through winter and beyond. She smiled at the man and thanked him.