by Jeanne Rose
"I don't take anything unless I can give something back."
"You could teach me some Spanish."
"I can't write or read that either."
"I meant speaking the language."
"I could help you, I guess." He sounded reluctant. "Is there anything else you don't know how to do?"
She shrugged. "I need to learn how to ride."
"Then I'll teach you that."
She had been about to say that Louisa would be taking her riding but she supposed she could change her plans.
Because Chaco seemed more satisfied. "That'll be fair. We'll trade." Everything settled, he got back to business and held out the paper again. "So what does this say?"
She read off the casino supplies.
"And this." He pointed at her first addition.
"Can you read?"
"And now the bad thing."
Oh, well. "You are a big donkey."
For a moment, he seemed stunned...until his face split into a wide grin. Then he laughed aloud, teeth flashing white against his tanned skin. Even his eyes warmed up. He looked like a completely different man.
"A donkey?" He laughed again. "You think that's bad?"
"Would you like me to come up with something worse?" she joked, glad she'd made some sort of peace with the man.
DONA YNEZ came to Santa Fe to see Chaco Jones a few days after his encounter with Don Armando. The hotel where he was staying said he spent most of his hours working at the Blue Sky Palace.
A casino and brothel? With a sigh, Ynez tightened her shawl and climbed back in her carriage. She was alone, not having wanted her husband to know of her activities. And though it was hardly proper for an upper class Spanish lady to enter such a place as Blue Sky, though she had no servant to protect her, she was going to have to do so.
As if the horse knew she was upset, it reared and whinnied as she took up the reins. Wanting to curse, she instead laid her whip on the beast and demanded he go forward.
What was Don Armando thinking of, sending letters to this mestizo bastard? And why must he demand an heir of his blood or else leave his land to the church?
But then, if there had been no bastard at all, Ynez would not have this chance...
Her chin high, she asked for Chaco Jones at the front desk of the Blue Sky. A red-headed, middle-aged woman showed her to a private office where they could talk. As Ynez had expected, he looked surprised when he saw her.
"Senora de Arguello," he said in cool greeting.
"Senor Jones. But please call me Dona Ynez." She smiled, keeping her voice low, fluttering her hands prettily as she adjusted her shawl. She had worn the red flowered one today over an elegant yellow silk dress. "I am sure you must wonder why I have come to see you." If he was in the least curious, he didn't show it, throwing her off track. "M-my husband is very disappointed that you will not recognize your kinship with him."
Jones frowned. "And he sent you to talk to me?"
"No. He does not know I am here." Ynez tossed her head, aware of the ruby earrings that would sparkle in the light from the office window. She had also made sure that several dark strands of her upswept hair were loose enough to fall about her shoulders. "You are making a mistake, Senor Jones. You have more to gain than you can possibly know."
"Some acres of land? I could care less."
"I speak of far more than a few acres. Don Armando owns the valley in which his house sits and all the mountain meadows surrounding it." She stepped closer, allowing her shawl to slip. The bodice of the yellow silk was cut deeply. "And there are also many cattle and horses, Senor Jones. My husband is very, very wealthy."
"I don't care about cattle and horses either." He quirked his lip. "Besides, it's hard to believe a Hidalgo would up and give all that to a bastard son he'd never seen before."
Ynez agreed but she had come to believe her husband meant what he threatened. "Don Armando will bequeath his kingdom to you if you will honor him as your father."
"And?"
He was rightfully suspicious. "He may ask other tasks of you but I do not believe they will be so odious."
"I'm an independent sort of man."
She could respect that, bound by rules and conventions as she was. "But what do you have with your independence? Nothing." She added carefully, "Don Armando does not have long to live." Though he seemed to be feeling much better after the
interview with Jones. "Soon, the land will be yours without his supervision."
Now she thought he appeared interested.
"Of course, you would be expected to take care of your father's widow," she went on. And if she were very clever, she could thereby retain control of much of the wealth. There was no such hope with the church. "You may be assured I would not make unpleasant requests of you."
Perhaps she would even grant favors. Which wouldn't be unpleasant for her either. Despite his base-blood heritage, he was a very handsome man. She moved nearer, allowing him to gaze down the front of her dress.
"Do you know what it is like to wield absolute power over dozens of people?" she asked, her voice husky.
"You mean the peons who work the de Arguello land? That's nothing I've ever wanted. I hate slavery."
"The many are meant to serve the few."
"Not if I can help it."
How strange. "You are so soft and pure of heart, you, a gunfighter?"
"A former gunfighter," he said quickly. "I'm a casino floorman now."
"Still." She grew tired of this continual denial. She decided to offer what she hoped was the greatest reward of all. "You must think about the women, if your social position should change."
"Women?"
She thrust her breasts forward slightly, knowing he could see nearly everything but their very tips. And her nipples were fully outlined by the thin silk of her dress. She saw the spark of desire in his eyes but also sensed some uneasiness. Was he afraid of her?
She attempted to put him at ease by smiling, speaking silkily, "As a rico, you could have whomever you want."
His glance flicked over her. "I can have plenty of women now."
"Not the good ones, Senor." Including herself, she implied. And even a lowly bastard mestizo should appreciate the offer she was making. "Not women who wear silk and smell of expensive soaps and perfumes, who keep their skin soft with lotions." She reached out to rake a finger slowly down his chest. "They are different."
He desired her, she knew it! She felt the thrill of victory, of promise, and raised her lips.
But then he brushed her hand away and stepped back. "I've had some expensive women. I didn't think they were that much different."
At first stunned, Ynez stood stock still. Then she flushed with anger and embarrassment. "You insult me, Senor!"
"You must want that land real bad if you're offering to sleep with me to get it."
Had her true motive been so transparent? Well, there was no use openly denying it.
"You are a pig! A man does not insult a woman so, even when he refuses her favors!" she cried. In Hidalgo society, complicated flirtations, invitations, assignations and polite refusals were carried on with subtlety. "But what else should I have expected of a base-born peon?"
He did not look in the least insulted himself and he turned calmly when someone pounded loudly on the door. Ynez jerked her shawl up over her shoulders as Jones answered it.
"Sorry to bother you, Chaco." It was the red-headed woman from the front desk. She gazed at Ynez curiously. "But this Bible-thumper woman I know is outside yelling at the customers, calling them Satan, acting like she's plumb crazy. Never seen such a fuss! She's gonna embarrass somebody or get herself in trouble."
"I'll go talk to her, Belle."
"Don't think she's the sort who can see reason."
"Then I'll encourage her to leave...in a proper and reasonable way."
Not caring about crazy Anglo women or customers or Chaco Jones himself, Ynez brushed past both him and the woman named Belle, not bothering to
wish them a good afternoon or evening. Her back straight, she pulled her shawl up over her mouth and chin, in case there was someone about who might recognize her.
Outside, on her way to her carriage, she saw the Bible-thumper. The woman's voice screeched furiously, calling upon God and the Angel of Death to deal a fatal blow to the Blue Sky, to the sinful men who frequented it.
Bitter and shamed, Ynez was certain she herself would smile if lightning should strike the place this very instant.
MINNA TUCKER SHRIEKED and wailed her anger and sorrow. The evil people in the Blue Sky brothel and casino had seduced her son. She'd followed Billie there and seen him enter, but she knew that her sweet baby boy would never have done so of his own accord.
"Devil!" she shouted, waving her fist at another horrid man approaching the den of iniquity. "You destroyer of the innocent, the little lambs of God!"
At the same time that man entered, another one came out. Tall and dark, he headed straight toward her, his stride and gaze menacing. Though he wasn't dressed like a savage, Minna knew he was one. She also knew his name was Chaco Jones. Billie had once pointed him out. She had no doubt that Jones had been setting his sights on her son's innocent soul then.
"Stay away from me, Satan!" She held up the cross she wore about her neck, trying to ward the fiend off.
"You should be moving along, lady. There's no church doings going on here."
"Satan!" she shrieked again, backing away from him. He was so big and threatening! "I won't leave until you give me my Billie!"
"You know someone in there?" He glanced back at the building. "Well, you'll have to wait for him at home."
When he reached for her arm, she screamed to high heaven and backed up some more. "Don't touch me with your filthy hands!"
"Go on home and I won't have to touch you."
"Give me my Billie, Satan! I won't allow you to steal his soul! To rip his heart out and replace it with a stone!"
Jones frowned. "You're crazy, lady. Haven't you got anyone else to take care of you?"
He knew she was alone! Her husband dead, having been shot down while doing his honest duty, Minna felt frightened for herself, as well as her son. But she couldn't do more for Billie now. She had to retreat. Backing away step by step, gathering her skirts, she summoned up all her righteous anger.
"God will smite you! He will send His minions to destroy you with tooth and claw! You will be torn apart and thrown into the maw of hell!"
Then she ran.
SHE RAGED – in the darkest hours of the night, she sped through the dirty streets, mindless, senseless with fury. Her feet dug into the sandy clay, her hair streamed in the wind.
Finally, panting, she fell to her knees in an alley behind a building from which a tinkling piano could be heard. She hated the sound that hurt her ears.
Growling deep in her throat, she swung her head back and forth, remembering the cadence of real animal rhythm. She spoke a few guttural words, tore at the clothing covering her heated flesh...snarled and drew back her lips as the change
began...
...some time later, she was on the run again. She raised her face. The scent of her enemy carried on the wind.
He was nearby. How difficult to contain her excitement.
Snarling, she changed directions, leaping to the top of an adobe wall, running along it to speed her progress. A horse in the enclosure neighed in terror. A large dog whined and slunk under some bushes.
But she ran on, after far better prey. Her muscles flexed as she leaped even higher to scale a rooftop. The town spread out about her, black shapes in the gray darkness. The air was alive with odors and scents. But she could easily locate her enemy.
Avoiding any needless, unwanted encounters, she kept to the rooftops, only slowing when the smell of her enemy filled her nostrils completely. Musky, sweet...and full of blood.
She circled, sniffing, snuffling, growling. He was here, right beneath her!
Gazing over the building's edge, she gauged her position and the second-story window some feet below. But there was a better way to unearth him.
The roof was old, cracked in several places and ready to give. Ravenous, lustful, furious, she dug, able to taste his throat already!
CHACO AWOKE SWEATING, uncomfortably aroused, deeply uneasy at the dream he'd had. He'd seen himself lying naked on the ground, a woman mounted on his belly, riding him for all she was worth. But then her eyes had begun to glow and her face had changed.
Not that he'd been certain of her identity in the first place. All he remembered was her searching lips, her sharp teeth, her streaming hair.
Scratch, scratch.
He sat up in the bed, suddenly aware of sifting earth coming down from the ceiling. "What the hell!"
In a second, he was on his feet, the Colt in his hand. He didn't even have time to light the kerosine lamp on the table.
Scratch, scratch, scratch.
More earth filtered down, along with a part of a latilla, the sticks laid between the ceiling's vigas. Was some damned animal trying to dig his way in?
"Hey, get out of here!" He raised the Colt.
But then he heard a low snarl and saw the glowing eyes peering through the widening hole in the ceiling.
Glowing eyes? The wolf creature!
Without thinking, he crouched, lapsing into Apache, "Get away from here, evil one! I am a spirit warrior, a di-yin!" And despite his trembling hands, he managed to pull the trigger.
As the Colt went off, the eyes flashed and the animal leaped back, yelping. The words of power had enabled him to wound it!
"Go, evil one!" Chaco shouted again.
And even though he heard no more growls, saw no more glowing eyes, he remained with gun raised for several more minutes, listening, looking.
Finally, stiff from the crouched posture, chilled from drying sweat, he stepped over to light the lamp, all the while sliding his gaze back and forth from that task to the ceiling.
No more sleeping tonight, he thought, skin crawling.
Instead, he'd gather his belongings so he could check out of the seedy old adobe hotel as soon as the sun rose. He would find another place to stay, a building with a good roof and more people around than an aged clerk who slept behind the desk in the foyer. The old man obviously hadn't even heard the gunshot, since he would have appeared by now.
Chaco got his clothes out of the dresser, thinking about the skinwalker. For he now believed she was real, not simply a figment of some underlying superstition. The hole in the ceiling attested to that. And she wanted him, had obviously followed him all the way from Lincoln County.
Why? Had he unknowingly offended an Indian who wanted revenge? Had some enemy put a supernatural price on his head?
But there was nothing to do now except keep her at bay, at least until he could talk to a real medicine man.
CHAPTER EIGHT
A FEW DAYS AFTER he'd wounded the skinwalker, Chaco was still thinking about finding a real di-yin. The only problem being that his ties were with the Chiricahua, Apaches who roamed to the south and west, rather than the Jicarilla who lived near Santa Fe. Trying to catch up with the Chiricahua – one of the few tribes who hadn't made peace with the U.S. government – would take luck, not to mention days of riding. They were always on the move, traveling back and forth through the southwest, even disappearing over the Mexican border.
Besides, he didn't want to give up his new job. He enjoyed being a casino floorman and he liked the room he was now renting at the Blue Sky. Since he'd moved in, he'd had no more bad dreams and there'd been no sign of the skinwalker. Hopefully, the last encounter had scared the witch away.
In a good mood, Chaco spent an hour or two every day simply relaxing on a bench in the Blue Sky's placita, sometimes talking to Adolfo or one of the other residents. He'd worked with the little Mexican at a real cow-punching job many years before. Adolfo was trustworthy and good-natured, if a little hot-headed.
Today, on a bench opposite Chaco
, Adolfo showed Luz the long knife he carried inside his jacket. "See what it says? 'Do not draw me without cause, nor sheath me without honor'."
"Ah, bonita." Luz reached for the weapon. "May I look at it more closely?"
"Better watch out or she'll wheedle that knife out of you," Chaco said. He realized Adolfo was obviously very taken with Luz.
Her eyes hardened. "I have plenty of knives of my own."
"She does, compadre," Adolfo told Chaco. "You ought to see her collection."
"I'm sure she can take care of herself." He'd noticed the young woman's strength and agility. She was slim, with firm muscles and wide shoulders, and she seemed very confident, as if she knew exactly what she wanted.
She wasn't the only one. Magdalena had surprised him when she'd stopped by his room late the night before. Tapping on his door, she'd casually offered a free sample of her wares. Though tempted, he'd turned her down, still haunted by the sexual dream of that glowing-eyed woman.
He'd definitely been under some sort of spell that night, had proven so the next day when he'd found a witch pouch in the pocket of his good black coat. Stuffed with poison powder, a snake's fang, and braided hairs, some of which had to have been his own, the packet had been meant both to bewitch him and to cause him harm.
What bothered him was that the witch had gotten close enough to slip the pouch into his pocket. Did that mean she was someone he knew? Was he rubbing shoulders with a skinwalker?
That suspicion made him carefully look over every woman he came into contact with. He didn't really think Magdalena had anything against him – though she hadn't seemed happy when he'd politely refused her favors a second time – but she knew more about brujeria than anyone else at the Blue Sky.
Including Frances Gannon. Now, in her case, he was dead certain she wasn't a witch.
Yesterday, she'd given him his first reading and writing lesson. She'd shown him the ABC's and how to spell a few simple words. At the same time, she'd kept staring at him when she thought he wasn't looking. He was pretty sure she was attracted to him, a fact that pleased him, considering he hadn't been able to get her out of his mind since he'd seen her in that red dress.