Maria's Trail (The Mule Tamer)

by Horst, John

  “And the one who is not the uncle, is he… does he have a woman?”

  “Not him. The uncle, though. He’s got Pilar, the bitch.” She spit on the ground when she said the woman’s name and Maria was amused by this.

  “This is his wife?”

  “Hah! No. She is a Mexicana, like us, but she is the lady of the manor, or at least she thinks so. She is a housekeeper and gives the old man one every so often. She thinks no one knows. Hah! Everyone knows. She thinks she is better than everyone because she had an aunt who was married to a shopkeeper once, and that was a long, long time ago. Now she runs the ranch like it is hers. Old slut!”

  “And the other one, this Walsh. He has no woman?”

  “No.”

  She took her leave of the washerwoman and rode on south. This was interesting news. She felt good again, felt a flutter in the pit of her stomach. She didn’t go to him, though. She wanted to go then thought better of it. She needed to ride south. She needed to see Uncle Alejandro but was not certain why.

  She returned to the hacienda and her uncle was pleased, as usual. He was also happier at the way she looked. She appeared to be happier, more rested; not so haggard. She was distracted, though, and Uncle Alejandro could read her mind.

  “You are in love, little one.”

  Maria blushed. It was the first time she’d ever been embarrassed in her life. She looked at the Jefe and grinned. “He is a gringo.”

  “I see.”

  “You do not think this is bad?”

  “Not particularly.”

  “Do you not think all the gringos are assholes, Uncle?”

  “No. Just most of them.” He smiled. “But Maria, most Mexicans are assholes, as well.” He got cigars for them to smoke and continued. “This world is full up of assholes, Maria.”

  She grinned and thought of something to say, but he continued. “Most all people in the whole world are assholes, no one country has the monopoly on them, Maria.”

  “This man, he captured me, as you had. He is, not, how do I say… He’s not very much like you, though. He is very fair, very fine, like a boy.”

  “I see.” He grinned. She was fairly gushing about the man. “And how old is this fair boy?”

  “Oh, he is no boy. He is, actually, quite old, I think. I think maybe not as old as you, but much older than me.”

  “I see. And why, my dear, are you here and not there, with him?”

  She became self-conscious again and tilted her head slowly from side to side. “Uncle, this is a silly thing. He would not be so interested in me, I think. He is a hacendado up there in Arizona. He is quite a gentleman. Such a man would not have any interest in me.”

  “Then he is either stupid or crazy or a eunuch. Is he any of these, Maria?”

  “I don’ know. I don’ think he is crazy. I know he is not stupid, but I do not know this eunuch, so I cannot tell you this.”

  He laughed. “He is not, child. I am sure he not a eunuch. He is a man and any man who loves women would love you. Go, child, and get him. If you want him, get him.”

  She woke and sat up in Uncle Alejandro’s bed. A lamp was lit in another room and Maria got up to investigate. Juana was taking a bath. She was full grown now and she smoked a cigar and her enormous breasts poked out of the bathwater like two perfectly matched islands. She picked up a tortilla and ate it and spoke with a full mouth. “I didn’t think you’d get an old one, too.”

  “I didn’t get anything.” Maria pulled up a chair and watched Juana eat. She was such a pretty woman and Maria now realized she was even prettier naked than she was wearing clothes. She looked beautiful with her blonde hair done up in the German style.

  “Oh, this mule man. You’ll get him. I know it.”

  “How did you know he had mules?” Maria was suspicious of Juana. She seemed to always know everything.

  Juana shrugged. “I don’t remember. But you’ll get him all right and then you’ll have babies.”

  “Have you had babies yet, Juana?”

  Juana shrugged again.

  “You don’t know if you’ve had babies, Juana?”

  “I’ve forgotten.” She stood up and water splashed out onto Maria and now she was cold.

  “Why is it that you never remember anything I ask about, Juana?” She was a little perturbed.

  Juana shrugged. “I never forget to come see you when you have a problem, though.”

  Maria could not argue with that. Juana was faithful in that regard.

  “You know why you’ve fallen in love with him?”

  “I don’t know that I have.”

  “Oh, you have. It’s because of the old man. The old man who taught you to play cards and shoot. You got a man like him. And he was old.”

  “That’s ridiculous. You never had an old man raise you, yet you got an old man.”

  “But I didn’t love him. Do now, but I didn’t.”

  “Why’d you marry him?”

  “Because he’s got a lot of money, of course. Why do you think?”

  “I don’t know.” She looked at Juana. “Do you suppose I really do love him?”

  “Sure you do.” Juana eyed her. “Go find me a towel, Maria.”

  When she returned, Juana was gone.

  But Maria could not make herself go north for more than a week. She felt so queer about this; she was always confident and in control. She never put anything off that she wanted to do. She wondered if nearly dying had anything to do with it. That took a lot out of her but she hadn’t hesitated since then. Whenever she had a showdown with a rude or potentially bad man she was as calm as ever, not afraid, she’d not hesitant.

  It was true that she hadn’t had to kill anyone since then, but she knew, deep down in her bones that she could if she needed to. No, she was certain it wasn’t that. But every evening it was the same, she’d go to bed with the resolution, the determination that tomorrow she’d be on her way. She even had trouble falling asleep because of her excitement.

  She’d take the advice of Juana and Uncle Alejandro and go see this mule man, as Juana called him. And her feelings hadn’t wavered, either. She still thought of him constantly. Why? She’d been with him for less than half an hour, but it was enough time for her to know that he was something special, that he was someone she could love.

  And the washerwoman, she called him the best of men. She was obviously a woman who did not mince words; Maria could tell that by watching the woman work. She was resolute in everything she did. She certainly would not call a man the best of men if she didn’t mean it.

  And he liked Mexicans. She’d heard of gringos who liked Mexican women, that was not such a stretch. Mexican women were some of the most beautiful in all the land. Anyone with a brain, as Uncle Alejandro said, would be a fool not to find Maria attractive. She knew all these things in her mind, and in bed at night she’d remind herself of them. But every morning she’d get up and waste time, have two hour breakfasts with Uncle Alejandro, go curry Alanza, play with the vaqueros’ children, have a two hour lunch and then take a nap. She would finish the day by spending more than two hours over dinner and the day would be gone. This would go on, Maria feared, indefinitely. She simply could not shake the procrastination.

  Then, finally, on a clear Thursday morning, she awoke to find Alanza tacked up and tied to the hitching rail outside her bedroom door, standing quietly in the veranda’s shade. Uncle Alejandro was waiting for her. He smiled and nodded at Maria’s pony. “Time to go north, little one.”

  She looked at him and her stomach fluttered. She took a deep breath. “After breakfast, Uncle.”

  “It is made, it is in a sack hanging on the saddle horn, child.” He handed her a tin cup of coffee. “You can drink it as you ride.”

  There was nothing for it now. She had to go. Uncle would not let her dally any longer. She smiled and saw his eyes get all teary, like a proud father handing his daughter over to her new husband. “You go. You are getting too old for this wandering, Maria. Soon,
you will be too old to have babies and every young woman should have the gift of babies. It is the way.”

  He grabbed her in his great arms and hugged her and kissed her on the top of the head. “You go. Go to him and then bring him to me. I have to make a good speech to him and tell him how precious you are. I must tell him how he has to be good to you for the rest of his days.”

  He was becoming overwhelmed at his own sentimentality. Uncle Alejandro, despite his toughness, was a romantic at heart. He moved her, physically, to Alanza, nearly picked her up and placed her on the saddle. She was suddenly looking down on the man. He looked smaller to her, old and frail, and she did not want to make him unhappy. She gave him a weak smile. “Okay, Uncle, but you did not have to push the bird from the nest. You could have just told me to go.”

  “Ah, Maria, I know a procrastinator when I see one. Now, go. If he is worth a centavo he will know what is good for him, go.” He pointed a big finger north. “Go.”

  She felt better now. It had begun, this great journey north. She did stop in some of the little saloons on the way, on the Mexican side, to visit friends. These men were not bad men and they would never play cards for much money, just for the enjoyment and camaraderie and they all loved and respected Maria. She’d go easy on them when she played and would typically turn around and either buy drinks or leave her winnings on the table for them to take back.

  They were also the best of men. They worked hard for their meager income, worked hard to keep their families alive, scratching out a living in the rough country to the north. They were always pleasant to her and every one of them felt a certain responsibility for her, a father’s responsibility. They hated to see her go.

  As she rode she talked everything out to Alanza and practiced her English. She needed to make a plan regarding the mule man. “Alanza, I think I need to be a little tricky with this mule man.” Alanza bobbed her head, as if in agreement and Maria patted her on the neck for it. “I think I will show him the worst part of me, and then if he likes that part, he’ll like the nice part of me.”

  She was excited at this prospect. She was like a school girl who had not yet developed the skills to seduce a boy, awkward and a little silly. She’d be this way to the mule man. She’d tease him with her womanly offerings, seduce him, vex him. She’d leave him and come back just when he’d think she was gone from his life for good. She’d make him beg her to stay, and only then, only after he begged, or at least demanded it, would she stay. If he could fall in love with her after that, then she’d know he was her kind of man. If he got insulted, or found her revolting, then she’d know to move on.

  This excited her. She would play a part because, in reality, Maria was no trollop. But the mule man didn’t know that. All he knew of her at this point was that she took mescal and smoked cigars, rode up and down the streets shooting her pistols, and that she kissed him when she’d not even known him for an hour. It had been a good kiss, not the kind of kiss you’d give your mother or father. It was a very good kiss.

  And he liked it. She knew he liked it and liked her. But that was what was so nice about him. That was what intrigued her about him; he hadn’t judged her. He did call her a thief, but he wasn’t disgusted by her. He was an educated gentleman and a gringo but he’d treated her as if she were an equal. That was the thing.

  She urged Alanza along a little faster. The weather was good, not too hot. She wanted to get to the little hamlet and find out how to get to the mule man’s place. She was ready now. She felt the little flutter in the pit of her stomach again and was ready to see him.

  She made a nice camp and had some of the food Uncle Alejandro’s cook had packed for her. She bedded down and talked to Alanza who’d drifted off to sleep. Maria could hear her rhythmic breathing. She didn’t mind that Alanza had abandoned her. Her dear one had done her good service all day and deserved some rest.

  Maria began to drift off and thought about what to do next. She wasn’t sure but it would have to happen the next day. She’d be there by midday and she’d have to go ahead and do it, whatever it turned out to be.

  She found the washerwoman who gave her directions to the mule ranch. She was pleasant enough but a bit odd, as if the washerwoman knew here was someone, one of her kind, and she’d kick the bitch, Pilar, out and be the new lady of the mule ranch. This pleased the washerwoman, so she was especially helpful to Maria.

  Maria continued on her way and after a time saw the entrance to the ranch. It was a vast spread, more austere than Uncle Alejandro’s, but a good ranch and obviously very rich. Maria could tell this was a rich man’s place. She suddenly felt weak in the legs. She had never, even in battle, felt this way.

  She stopped Alanza. They found an arroyo, out of view of any travelers who might make their way to or from the ranch. She got down and ate a leisurely lunch. Alanza grazed.

  This was nice land, a little south of the red rocks, but she could visit her Indios babies easily from here. It also wasn’t far from Uncle’s place. She suddenly thought all this was preposterous. She was already thinking in terms of being the lady of the house, knocking the bitch, Pilar, off her little throne. How could this be? She’d never thought about things in this fashion, ever. Now she was planning on a grand scale. She had to have some mescal! This was making her insides shake and she did not like it. She did not like this feeling one bit.

  One mescal led to another and soon she was sleeping like a newborn babe. When she awoke, it was fully dark and the moon was high. Off in the distance she could see silver moonlight shimmering on the mule man’s hacienda. She stood up and was a little woozy. She drank a lot of water and a little more mescal and this steadied her.

  She got on Alanza and felt better. This was actually the best of all possible things. She would not have to be presented to the bitch, Pilar, or the mule man’s uncle, or any of the hands. The mule man would not have to be embarrassed that a wild Mexicana had come calling on him in the middle of the day.

  She rode. Alanza seemed to know she needed to be extra quiet, like a great housecat. They were soon at the hitching post outside the rancher’s door. It was grand and Maria was impressed. It looked to have a woman’s touch and likely not that of the bitch, Pilar. More like a refined lady and she thought that the mule rancher or his uncle must have, at some point, had a wife. A woman had most definitely had a hand in all this.

  She tied Alanza off and had a look around. She could see well despite the fact that no lamps were burning. Everyone was in bed for the night. She wandered to a big window and peered in. It was the mule man’s bedroom and he was there, sleeping peacefully with his mouth agape. Now he looked about a hundred years old and Maria thought all this an idiot’s errand. She watched him some more and he turned and closed his mouth and was facing her and no longer looked a hundred years old. Now he just looked like himself, old, but not so old as to be decrepit.

  Maria pressed her face against the pane of glass, hands cupped on either side of her head. She could make out the bedroom and, it too, had been decorated by a woman. No man would have tassels on his lampshade, she thought. Uncle Alejandro’s lampshades had no tassels. Uncle’s room looked as a man’s room should. It was masculine and this man, this mule man, was sleeping in a woman’s room.

  She now turned and looked the ranch over. It was well appointed and well maintained. She could see the bunkhouses for the ranch hands, and the barn and corral. It was all in order. She wandered around the perimeter of the house. It had a long overhang and would be cool in the summer. There was a veranda with table and chairs and she thought it would be good to eat and watch the mules in the corral. It was how they spent their days, breaking and training mules, and then coming out onto the veranda and having their meals. She imagined the gringo conversations here. They likely didn’t differ from any of the vaquero or hacendado conversations. They likely talked of the same things.

  She found the door and turned the handle. It was not locked and she entered the vestibule. It was cool inside.
It smelled of mesquite fire from the hearth and the food from the last meal cooked by the bitch, Pilar, and candles and coal oil lamps. It was a nice smell of a nice home that was nicely maintained. It had a good feeling and Maria suddenly felt overwhelmed by it all.

  She felt desperately that she needed to be here tomorrow, set up house, live here, spend the rest of her days here, but that could not happen so soon. She’d have to make it happen. She could not just tell the mule man that it was going to happen. She had to make him make it all happen.

  She wandered through the halls, found the uncle’s room and listened to him snore. He seemed to be a nice one, too. He was even more ancient in sleep than the mule man, but kind looking. The bitch, Pilar, was not in his bed. She’d likely fornicated and moved to her own room.

  Maria thought about Pilar. Pilar would hate her. She’d hate her for her youth and beauty and manly dress and common manners, and charm. She’d be the one to win over. If she was at all decent, she’d protect her men as a mother bear would protect her cubs. Maria would have to be careful with Pilar. She didn’t want to oust her completely; she needed the woman to keep the uncle happy and keep the place running. Maria had learned from Juana in this respect. Juana told her, as the head of a hacienda, you did not cook or clean or work. You managed the place and kept the men happy. And this is what Maria would do with the help of Pilar.

  She now moved onto the mule man’s room. He turned toward her and she thought she’d been caught. She did not want to be shot and this was a real possibility. Even alfeñique gringos kept a gun under their pillow. But he didn’t shoot her. He kept sleeping and Maria was able to wander around his room.

  The woman was there, in a picture, along with a child. Now she felt sorry for the gringo. These people were dead. It was the only logical explanation and it made her sad. She looked around for more things to see, more things to stall her but they just weren’t there. She had to do it now.