by Horst, John
“Oh, I see now.” She gave him a sly grin. “That is why you have always been so good to me. I remind you of your lover.”
He blushed. Then smiled. She was teasing him a little and he didn’t mind. “No, Maria. I took you in because of the wonderful light in your soul.”
“Oh?” It was her turn to blush.
“I saw it the moment I met you, the day you clobbered poor Paulo with the candlestick.”
She grinned. “I have always been sorry for that, padre.”
They rode on and the priest decided to bring up something that had been bothering him for a long while.
“Maria, what do you want to do with your life?”
She smiled and looked at the road. “I, I just want to do what I am doing, padre. Be at the church and be with the old woman and the old man. They are getting along in years, padre. It is my turn to take care of them. I will do this thing, I will take care of them and make them comfortable and happy until they die.”
He decided to drop it. She was one of the brightest young people he’d ever known and she had a good and curious mind but now he realized his scheme was a stupid one. Maria was not studious, she’d be miserable doing any kind of formal study. He smiled a little broader, admiring her for what she’d just said.
“You are a genuinely good soul, Maria. A genuinely good soul.”
Chapter IX: Metamorphosis
Paulo met them on the outskirts of town. His head was bandaged and Maria couldn’t help but wonder what he’d gotten into to get himself clobbered again. She didn’t like the look on his face. When he saw them he began to wring his hands. His sorrow turned to tears.
“What is it, Paulo?” The padre got down from the wagon to better look at the man’s wounds.
“A.., I…” He looked up at Maria and cried harder. He ran to her and grabbed her hands, crying into them.
Maria pushed him away and slapped the reins against the horses. They broke into a run for the church.
The old man and old woman were dead. Maria looked at them, laid out in the church awaiting burial. They looked like they were asleep.
She waited for the padre and Paulo to catch up. She was too calm for the circumstances. “What happened, Paulo?”
He was blubbering and she couldn’t get a clear answer. She looked at him and demanded, “Paulo, get hold of yourself. What happened?”
“Bandits. They came in the middle of the night. They were stealing from the church and Decio discovered them. They shot him and when Agata tried to help him they shot her.”
He went back to crying inconsolably. The padre fussed over him and looked at Maria. There was nothing he could do.
She went to bed that night and listened to the nothingness of the little home. She used to hear the old people snore and cough and pass wind. She used to listen to the old woman clang around in the kitchen early in the morning; the old man would tap out the dottle from his pipe and blow his nose. She used to hear the old man laugh. He laughed a lot and he was always kind to Maria. He never, not once, said a mean or angry or cross word to her.
She dozed off thinking of these things and fell into a deep sleep. She was awakened by a strange light that appeared under her door. She went into the kitchen to investigate. Juana was sitting at the kitchen table eating some beans and tortillas. She didn’t look up from her meal as Maria seated herself across the table from her. “These beans and tortillas are old.”
Maria looked at Juana. She hadn’t changed. She was still a child and this confounded Maria. “Where have you been?”
“Oh, here and there.” She took a drink of water and regarded Maria. “You got big.” She pointed with a piece of tortilla. “Your tetas are muy grande.”
Maria looked down at her breasts.
“What are you going to do now that they are dead?”
“I don’t know.” She didn’t like the casual way Juana was speaking of the old people.
Juana looked around the room. “This is nice. You could take over what they were doing for the church, get a man and raise a family here.”
Maria became angry. It was a mean and insensitive thing to say and Juana seemed to sense it.
“Mind you, that’s not what I’d do.”
“Oh, what would you do?”
“I’d go track those bandits down and cut off their cojones and make them eat them with a plate of beans.” She was pleased with that thought. “Beans with beans.” She smiled at Maria and then looked at her a little seriously. “Oh, you don’t think you could do it?”
“I didn’t say I couldn’t do it.”
“You don’t have a good look. You have a look like you don’t think you could do it.”
“I could do it.”
“Then do it.” Juana stood up and brushed the crumbs from her lap. She kicked the crumbs far under the table out of sight. Maria looked at what she was doing, then at the clock on the mantle, then back at Juana. The girl was gone.
She suddenly felt cold and went back to her bed and pulled the covers up to her chin. She soon fell asleep but it didn’t last very long.
Awaking again, Maria realized she wouldn’t be able to sleep anymore. She sat up and lit a lamp. For some reason she didn’t understand, she got the mirror the old woman in the hovel had given her and looked into it. The old woman was right again. There is no one else in the world. No one else in the world will take care of you. Only this one.
She looked at herself in the mirror and regarded her face. She thought hard about what to do next. She got up, even though it was the middle of the night, and began her preparations. She would not sleep another night in this house.
The priest watched her as she rode up to him. He could tell she was leaving. She had packed for travel with a war sack tied onto her saddle and several canteens. She’d been to the bank to retrieve her fortune and then to the store where she purchased a Winchester. This she had in a fancy leather scabbard tied to her saddle, as well.
“Good bye.” She began to turn away.
He called out to her. “Maria, stop.”
She waited.
“What are you going to do?”
“I’m going to get them.”
“And this is the right thing for you to do?”
“Yes.”
“They wouldn’t like it, Maria.” He pointed to the church, toward the coffins with the bodies of the old woman and old man inside. “They’d say, let it go, they’d say that Jesus would tell you to forgive and move on. Please, Maria. Please help me bury them, give them a good funeral and stay and do the work they’ve done so well. Please, Maria.”
“They’re dead.”
“And it is terrible, but it’s God’s will, and more killing won’t bring them back. It’s God’s…”
She became furious and hissed at him. “God, God! Goddamn your God. Your God has brought me nothing but pain. Your God has pulled down his trousers and shit on my head all my life. Your God can go to hell, padre. Your God’s a fool.”
He looked at her, pain and sorrow in his eyes. He wanted to speak, but nothing he could say would mean anything to her now.
“I will be the justice now because your God is nothing; he is, like Crisanto, he is an alfeñique. He is a nothing and I am finished with him. Goddamn your God.”
She thought of something and jumped from her horse. She walked up on him. “Give me a Bible!”
He stood, dumbfounded and a little afraid of her. She grabbed him by the arm and pushed him ahead of her into the church. She found a Bible. “Let’s see.” She paged through and found the book of Exodus. “Here.” She tore a page from the Bible and held it up. She read through it and looked at the priest.
“I will break every one of these a hundred times over. I will taunt Him and do the opposite of Him. I will make every bad thing that I can think and I will make things right in this world. No more bandits or cutthroats. No more children starving or men abusing little girls. No more! No more! When I find them, I will kill them. This is better than your G
od. Goddamn your God, padre.”
She stormed out and, jumping back on her horse, wheeled around and was gone.
She pushed her way into the saloon at the end of town. The old man would come here of an evening now and again, to play some cards and beat the locals and make money for Maria’s vaquero outfit. He was well known and respected by them all.
The men acknowledged her at once. Everyone knew Maria even though the old woman had not allowed her in this place. She walked up to the bar and ordered mescal. She drank it quickly and ordered another. One of the men walked up to her and handed her some money. “Your father, he won this from me. He, he’d want you to have it.”
She looked the man in the eye and then back at her glass. “He was not my father.” She poured again and handed the man at the bar the money and told him to keep giving her and everyone drinks until the money was gone. They all stood up and toasted her and the memory of the old woman and old man.
She looked at them.
“Who were these bandits?”
No one spoke up.
“Come now, boys,” she sounded odd calling the men boys. “Come now, you must have seen them. You must know of them. Tell me where to find them.”
“Let it go, little one.” A kind old man touched her arm and she recoiled.
“I will not let it go!”
Suddenly a voice came from the back of the room. “I’ll tell you.”
“No!” several men responded in unison as the man stepped forward. He was a vaquero and a tough man. He was not old like the other men. He wore a six shooter and carried a big knife. He looked harsh but his eyes were kind.
“Yes, I’ll tell her.” He gestured for her to sit down. She complied. He got two more drinks and offered her one. He looked her over carefully.
“These men don’t want you to go after the bad men because they are afraid for you, Maria.” He drank and continued. “But I know you are not afraid. I know what you can do, and you should do it. Avenge them, Maria.”
“I will.”
“The men are from a band headed by a man from further south. He’s called Sombrero del Oro because he wears a big gold hat. He’s a bad one, Maria.” He looked at her with intensity.
“He trades in humans and he kills without consideration. But Maria, dying would not be the worst thing that could happen to you if they should catch you. You are beautiful and they would do many bad things to you. You know what I mean?” He nodded when she didn’t change her expression.
“I know.”
He nodded and took another drink. “I didn’t think that would dissuade you.”
“And these men. Why did they do this thing to the old woman and the old man?”
“Because they could.” He shrugged. “No reason. Because they could. You see, Maria, these men, they are not people. They are not human beings. They are some horrible creature, even worse than a loco bull or rattler. They kill for malice and for fun. No creature in the animal kingdom acts like this. And Maria, don’t hesitate. Show no mercy when the time comes. Kill them. Do not show them mercy.”
She stood up and felt a little dizzy. She’d never had so much mescal. She held out her hand, as one man would to another and he took it. He shook her hand gravely and nodded. “God be with you, Maria.”
She turned and walked away. “No thanks. I don’t need Him.”
On her way out of town she rode up on Paulo shuffling between home and church. This was the second time in his life that Agata had broken his heart and it was uncertain he’d endure. Maria stopped next to him. He looked up at her with tears running down his craggy old face. He didn’t try to hide them from anyone, especially not Maria. She leaned over and handed him something.
“This is Agata’s necklace, Paulo.” He held it in his clenched fist and pressed it to his forehead. He shook and cried and cried out. He desperately needed her to get down, hold him and comfort him, but that was not Maria’s way. It never had been and it certainly wouldn’t be going forward. She reached over and patted him gently on the head and rode on.
She rode straight through to Nuevo Casas Grandes, the place the vaquero had told her she was most likely to find the bad men. She lived on cold coffee and tortillas and the cigars she’d gotten from the fancy store. She liked the cigars because they took her appetite away and kept her alert and awake. It would be her way from now on. When she was traveling she’d travel hard and fast and unrelenting. She wanted to get to the bad men before they moved on. She knew that such miscreants drifted. It would be easy to lose them in the big land.
The town hadn’t changed much in the ten years since she had been there. She rode past the bastard Sanchez’s shop. It was no longer a shop. It was boarded up. Enough boards were missing that she could tell it was nothing more than a shell.
She rode to the far end of town where the saloons and brothels were located and decided to visit the brothel first. It was still red and still well staffed with many sporting girls. Some of them sauntered out to regard her as she tied her mount to a rail. Several of them ooh’d and aah’d at Maria. She was beautiful despite the thorough coating of dust that covered her from the long ride.
“Come on in here, Chiquita, we’ll get you nice and clean.” They were not taunting her. Many of the girls would be delighted for the company of a delicate and pretty woman rather than the coarseness of an ugly vaquero or field hand. She smiled at them and removed her hat. One of them handed her a beer and she drank quickly. She bowed her head in thanks and regarded the one who’d given her the drink.
“Señorita, tell me of one of your women here about ten years ago. She was dark but had yellow hair.”
“Ah, Lupina.” The woman put an arm around her. She reached over and kissed Maria on the cheek. “Come with me, little doll, I’ll show you.” She stopped and regarded Maria. “Now, don’t be upset. She is not well. She’s old and she’s a little addled.”
The woman took her to the very room Maria slept in those many years ago. The bed, mattress and even the covers seemed to be the same.
The old prostitute was sleeping when they walked in and Maria’s escort led her to a chair. Maria sat down and waited, falling asleep for an hour, until the bedridden woman awoke.
Maria regarded her. She was drawn in the face and Maria could tell that she hadn’t much time left. She coughed into a rag until it was bloody and Maria helped her sit up.
“Do you remember me, lady?”
She did not.
“You helped me when I was a little girl. Juana brought me.”
She brightened at hearing Juana’s name.
“The little chubby one.”
“Yes, yes.”
“Whatever became of her?”
“She died.”
“Oh, what a shame.” She coughed again.
Maria gave her money, a big fistful of bills. The old woman was confused.
“You were good to me, lady. I vowed to thank you some day and now I can.” Maria got to her feet and, reaching over, pulled the woman upright and straightened her in her bed. She patted her on the cheek. “You rest, lady. Just rest.”
The other whores were friendly to her. They’d seen what Maria had done for Lupina and knew that she was not like them; they understood that Maria was special. She was not a peon or a bandit or a lady. She was a creature unto herself. Her escort put an arm around her but wasn’t crass or mean or seductive. “Come with me, Miss.”
She took her to an empty room in the back. It contained a big bathtub. It had been prepared especially for Maria. She stripped down and they took her outfit and cleaned it. She relaxed in the hot water, smoked a cigar and drank some mescal. She’d rest for a while and decided that now would be a good time to interrogate her escort.
“Tell me. Were there two men here in the past day? They would be from the south, wearing black boots to the knee and striped trousers. One had long moustaches and the other no hair on his face at all.”
“Oh, yes. They were here. They had a lot of money. They had
some things to sell from a church.”
“And where are they?”
The woman was washing Maria’s back and becoming too friendly. Maria gently pushed her away and the escort blushed.
“I am sorry.” She grinned and bit her lip. “You are just too beautiful not to touch.”
Maria rinsed off and got out of the tub. “Come now, darling. Pay attention.” She dressed quickly so as not to distract the young whore. “Where did the two men go?”
“Oh, the saloon across the way. They’ve been drinking in there for the past two days. They are trying to gamble but no one will give them a game.”
Maria was now dressed in her fresh clothes. She looked at a clock on the wall and then outside. It was nearly midnight. This would be as good a time as any.
She gave the woman some money and kissed her cheek. “You’ve been good to me. Thank you, darling.”
She blushed again. “It was my pleasure, little doll.” She smiled and rolled the money up, putting it down her front. “All my pleasure.”
Maria walked across the street. She was surprised to be so calm. She’d never killed men before and she figured she’d be shaky or scared; at the very least, excited. She was none of these things. Her heart didn’t race and her hands didn’t shake. Her vision was clear and her breathing slow and deep. She actually felt good.
She walked through the saloon door and many men turned and looked at her. They’d not seen a woman like this before. None of the peons ever came into the bar and the whores always looked like whores. No ladies would ever come in and, if they had, they’d be in dresses, not dressed like a man.
Maria let them look her over as she lit a cigar and blew a great cloud of smoke at the ceiling. She looked to her left, then to her right. She did not see either of the men she was looking for.
She slowly walked the length of the bar and there they were, in a back corner, sitting together around a little makeshift table that had once been a barrel. Now it had a plank on top. There was a candle on the table. It was lit and there was a bottle of mescal and two glasses.