by Horst, John
The men looked very drunk or sick or both. They did not look like ferocious bad men. They looked old and worn out; dirty peons with some fancy vaquero clothes. She did not regard them as much of a threat even though they both wore six shooters and had fancy dagas in the front.
Neither of them looked at her. She stood there for a while until everyone stopped gawking and went back to whatever they were doing before she came into the saloon.
She had gotten two six shooters back at the village when she got the Winchester and she wore one on each hip. She unholstered them, holding one in each hand by her sides. Still, no one paid her any mind and the bandits continued to sit, stupefied, seemingly not looking at anything. She walked up and stood before them until they finally looked up, squinting and trying to focus.
Maria kept the cigar clenched in her teeth. Her hands were full of her six shooters. She blew smoke around the cigar at the men. They looked at each other and finally at the six shooters in her hands, but they still did nothing. They just sat there.
Maria pointed the pistols at the men and fired both guns at the same time, opening a hole in the head of each man. They fell backwards off their chairs and onto the floor, great chunks of brain running down the wall behind them. She stood over them and fired again and again until both guns were empty and the men’s bodies were torn open with most of their entrails spilling out of their abdomens.
The rest of the patrons dove for cover. They didn’t know that Maria was the only one shooting and they didn’t want to be hit by stray lead. Her ten shots smoked up the saloon so badly that there was a thick haze hanging in the air. It was pink in color from the mist caused by the blood sprayed from the slugs from Maria’s guns. Everything was deathly still.
Maria looked around but no one wanted to fight her. No one wanted to arrest her or ask her what she’d done or why she’d done it. No one liked the two bastards from the south. Everyone was a bit afraid of them and they were just waiting for them to go away. Maria had done them all a service.
She dug through the men’s clothing and found money and some little items from the church. She took their six shooters and dagas and stuffed them in her gun belt. One had a couple of gold teeth and she beat them out of his head with the grip of her pistol. She dumped the teeth in the glass of mescal to clean them and then put them in her pocket.
She regarded the barman and gave him some of the money from the dead men. She wanted to compensate him for the mess. She nodded to him and he nodded back. He seemed to have a just discernible look of satisfaction on his face as he waited for Maria to do whatever it was that she was going to do next. He had no interest in getting her riled. She turned and walked out.
The barman ran around the bar after her. He stopped at the entrance of the saloon and, standing on the long porch, called out to her.
“Miss?”
She turned as she was putting on her sombrero, her raven hair reflecting silver from the moonlight. He thought for a moment that perhaps she wasn’t real.
“Yes?”
He slowly raised his hand and pointed with a trembling finger. He suddenly felt cold. “Those are their horses, ma’am.”
“Thanks.”
She rode hard with her little train of horses behind her. She’d go back to the fence. She was now as happy as she could be. He’d pay her and then she’d go visit the nice woman with the mean husband, the one who’d given her the flint and steel. She needed to thank her and she’d do it with the money the dead men’s traps would bring.
This pleased her. She remembered the old man telling her stories on cold winter’s nights. One of the stories was of old England, where there was a man who did these things. He was Robert Hood, or Roberto Hood, or something like that, she could not remember exactly, but he spent his days helping poor people and killing bad people. This is what Maria would do.
She decided to stop for the night. She made a fire and fixed something to eat. As she ate, she pulled out the paper from the Bible. She looked at the list of Commandments. She’d violated many of them in the past days. This was good and she looked up at the sky and held up her little fist and shook it at the heavens. “How do you like all that, God?”
She thought about the whore who helped her with her bath. It was curious because she’d not known women who liked women. It was flattering to her and she felt a little sorry for the whore as Maria had no interest in such things. However, she knew how she could break hearts. Now she broke the hearts of women as much as she did men. She looked up at heaven again. She wished she liked women so that she could be carnally involved with them because she was sure that would not please God and it was now her goal in life to anger God and mock Him and do things that would confound Him.
She remembered a time when the old padre talked about carnal things, that such activity was only for married people and it was for the making of children. So she surmised that it must be something that would make God angry, two women together carnally, that would certainly make Him angry because they could not be married and they certainly could not make babies.
She thought on that a bit and now that was another thing to hate God for. Why would God be angry if a woman liked another woman, or a man liked another man? The world was a cruel enough place and Maria thought, good for them if they found some comfort in the arms of another. What did it matter? It didn’t and it was just another stupid rule put in place by God to torture mankind.
Maria thought back to her killing of the bad men. She was utterly remorseless. She could not have cared any less for them. She liked it. She liked the fact that everyone in the saloon did nothing to stop her. They knew. They were just not free like Maria. They were bogged down with their own sense of right and wrong. Or perhaps they were afraid or worried over what God would do to them.
They lacked the clarity of mind that Maria now possessed. She was completely free. She was free of fear, as she was not afraid to die. She was free of guilt, as she knew they needed to be killed and she had the guts, the nerve to carry that out.
It was a good thing that she was beautiful and strange in her attire. That was the most misleading thing about her and it would always, always work to her advantage. That would make the bad men hesitate. They’d look at her and think of bedding her or think that she was weak. They would not think of her as the one who was going to send them to hell. It was the perfect arrangement and she laughed to herself and thought about God’s big mistake. He made her this way. He made her brave and good at throwing rocks and shooting guns and riding horses and He made her fearless and beautiful. He made the perfect killer and she was certain He didn’t mean to do it. This was her joke on God.
All the musing made her sleepy and she slept among the horses and felt good. Tomorrow she’d swim in the sea and sell the traps and visit the pretty assistant and offer her some kind of gift. She’d think hard about that, as it would have to be a good one.
Chapter X: The Fence’s Pretty Assistant
The sea was as beautiful as Maria had remembered. The store looked the same but no one seemed to be around. She tied her horses to the hitching post and wandered around. She saw the house and looked at the window up in the garret and felt a flutter, a twinge of sadness at the memory of Juana and their time together in the nice bed. She remembered that she’d have to find the bad man with the ugly growth on his face and kill him. He would be next on her list.
A woman emerged from the house. It was the pretty assistant. She was still pretty but old-looking to Maria as she’d aged ten years. Maria still had the image of how the woman looked when they first met. She did not recognize Maria, but nodded to her as she wiped her hands on her apron. She wore her hair high up on her head. She had a pretty, delicate neck and Maria didn’t remember this about her. She still had the kind eyes and Maria most definitely remembered them.
“I am Maria, lady. I am sure you do not remember me but another girl, Juana, and I came here a long time ago. We sold things from the bastard Sanchez’s store.
&
nbsp; The assistant smiled. “I remember you.” She stepped back and regarded Maria. “Just as beautiful as I thought you would be.”
“I have more things to sell to the man. Is he here?”
“No.” She walked past Maria and regarded her traps. She looked at the horses and nodded and then at Maria. “He’s dead.”
“Oh.” Maria looked at the woman and did not detect any regret. She decided not to pursue it.
“Do you have anything else?”
They walked inside and Maria produced all the dead men’s traps. She pulled out the gold teeth and the woman recoiled. She grabbed a cup and held it out. “I hate teeth, disgusting. Throw them in here.”
Maria complied and the woman rolled them around in the cup as if she was going to play craps with them. “They’ve got a lot of gold in them.”
Maria looked up and could not help but notice the woman’s eyes fixed on her. She felt like she had around the too friendly whore. She grinned and didn’t mind. It would anger God.
“So you are the new fencer?” She laughed. “Fencer. It was what Juana called you and the man. That’s very funny.”
The pretty assistant didn’t ask about Juana. She’d known enough bad things in her life to know that Juana’s story was likely a tragic one and the pretty bandit would tell her about it if she wanted. There was no value in asking her such a thing.
“I am.”
“Well, we will be good friends. I expect I will be bringing you many more things like these.”
Maria stayed and the assistant gave her fancy wine she’d gotten from one of her thieves. It was good wine from France and it had been stolen from a train. The assistant kept it for herself because now that the man was dead, she could do that and did it often. She had enough money and didn’t need to sell everything she took in. She kept the best things, particularly the wine and spirits of quality, for herself.
They were nearly drunk by that evening and Maria wanted to go for a swim. They walked down to the shore and stripped naked. Maria did not think the woman so old looking now. She was quite pretty naked and she felt the woman looking at her again and this flattered her. She looked up to the heavens and muttered something. The assistant asked her what she’d said.
Maria stepped into the water and turning over, floated on her back. The sea was so salty that she could do this effortlessly. She was drunk enough to tell the pretty assistant what she wanted to know. She grinned and said, “I was talking to God.”
“Oh?” The pretty assistant swam up to Maria and put her hand on her head, leaned over and kissed her passionately on the lips. It was the softest, most tender kiss Maria had ever felt and she looked at the woman, then stood upright and put her palm to the assistant’s cheek.
“I am sorry, Bonita, but I am not that way.” She watched the woman’s heart break and gave her a smile. “I wish I were that way, but I am not. I would like to make God angry by loving women, but it just is not my way. I am sorry.”
The woman smiled and walked back onto the beach and dropped down upon the sand and stared up at the moonlit sky. Maria joined her.
“Why do you want to anger God?”
“Because God’s a bastard and a pendejo and an alfeñique.”
The woman laughed and stretched out on her side, resting her pretty face on her hand. “I’ve never heard anyone say such a thing.”
“Oh, it is the truth. God has done nothing but torture me all my life and he’s killed everyone I love. He’s taken everything from me.”
“I see.”
“And so, I…” She looked the woman in the eye. “Do you know the Ten Commandments?”
“I do.”
“I will break all of the Commandments to mock Him. And I plan to rob and steal and bring everything to you so that you can give me money. I’m going to help poor people because God is too much of an alfeñique to do this thing. And I am going to kill every bad man I meet. Every one.”
“I see.”
The woman was very calm and Maria thought at least the woman would try to argue with her or lecture her, but she did nothing but smile at Maria and look pretty in the moonlight.
Maria wanted more wine and walked over to their clothes and picked up the bottle and drank from it. She handed it to the pretty assistant and she did the same.
“Aren’t you angry at me for saying bad things about your God?” She liked the woman. She seemed to be wise and kind and treated Maria like a peer, not like she was a young girl who knew nothing.
“Oh, He’s not my God.”
Maria smiled. She thought she was the only one who had not known of God. Everyone she met was a devout Catholic.
“You don’t know of God?”
“Oh, sure.”
The woman took another drink and was happy to discuss philosophy with the young beauty. She’d spent so much time either alone or with ignorant thieves. It was good to have a conversation like this.
“I grew up a very faithful Catholic. I know all about God and Jesus and the Virgin. I got baptized when I was a baby and I had my first communion and I had confession. I know all about it.”
She was getting cold as the sun was down and the sea breezes were picking up. She brushed herself off and dressed and Maria did the same. “But I had my doubts over the years. I’ve not had such bad things happen to me as you, Maria, but I’ve had my doubts.”
She smiled. Maria had now stopped drinking and was listening intently. She’d not known anyone who doubted as she had. “And then one day, someone brought in a collection of books they’d stolen. Many books that had many ideas in them and I learned about other kinds of people and other concepts of God and I realized that maybe the God that we’ve known, maybe He’s not necessarily the God.”
“The God?” Maria was intrigued.
“Yes.” She smiled. “I understand why you are angry at your God, Maria. He, or at least what we’ve been taught about Him, leaves a lot to be angry about.”
“What do the others say about Him? The other people?”
“Oh, lots of things. Some believe God is a force, not a human form. There’s no God up in heaven that looks like an old man with a beard, and there never was any Jesus or the Virgin. They believe it is a force. And then there are people who believe in reincarnation.”
“What is this?”
“It means when you die, your soul goes to another body. If you were good in life, you get a better body, but if you were bad, you get a bad body, and you keep living and dying over and over and over again.” She laughed at Maria’s expression. She was giving her many things to ponder and Maria was taking it all in, not judging, not telling the woman any of it was preposterous or right or wrong.
“So not everyone is like us, like a Catholic?”
“No, heavens no!” She felt funny saying heavens.
They eventually went to bed and Maria invited the pretty assistant to share the bed with her, provided she understand that it would not involve anything other than sleeping. They opened the windows wide and Maria remembered the lovely odor of the bedclothes. They needed plenty as it was chilly and this made everything all the cozier. It was nice to have another person share her bed and she felt happy. She didn’t feel guilty now as the woman did not look so broken hearted and Maria was pleased that they could share a bed as friends and not complicate things. She decided to be a little bold.
“The man, the fence. Was he not your husband?”
“No. We never were. We were lovers. He had a tremendous thing, you know, down there.” She grinned and pointed between her legs.
Maria laughed out loud.
“Really?” Maria had only seen one and that was Crisanto’s. It seemed neither large nor small to her at the time. She had no real point of reference.
“Oh, my goodness, yes. And he knew how to use it. He was good at it.”
“But you like women.”
“Both. I like men and women, Maria. Like women better, but like both.”
“I see.” Maria was learning
many things. Many, many very strange and interesting and wondrous things.
Chapter XI: Gold Tooth
Maria rode back east. She was getting good at crisscrossing the desert now and she liked it. She had enjoyed the lady’s company and the woman had been good to her. She had a lot of money to give to anyone she pleased. She had to get to the nice woman with the mean husband back at her little village first. After that, she had no real plans.
This made her fairly giddy. No plan for the future. She had a purpose and she had a way to make money. It was all very exciting because she didn’t have any obligations to anyone: no home, no man or family or children. It was not actually so bad to be all alone in the world.
The whore and the lady fence and the man at the saloon where she shot the two bad men all flattered her, too. She knew she could get a man whenever she wanted one. There was no hurry in any of that, either. She was a free agent and a free spirit and she had a purpose. It was good to be alive.
She thought a lot about being angry at God, especially in light of what the lady fence had to say about faith and this made her think of all those years growing up at the church. She smiled at the memory of her time with the padre. He used to become so frustrated with her. One time, and it was really the only time he’d ever been cross with her, was when she kept asking about all the preposterous things he told her about the miracle of transubstantiation, and the Virgin Mary’s Immaculate Conception, and all the miracles Jesus performed. None of it really made much sense to Maria. She was very practical; a sensible and logically thinking person.
“Child!” He fairly shouted at her. “Some things, some things must be taken on faith. There’s no explanation for them, you just have to believe!” And with that, she dropped it. She knew he didn’t know and she knew she’d never get to the bottom of it. It just made the padre angry and sad and she didn’t like him to be that way, so she just stopped asking.