Coombs was a tall, handsome man, dressed in the light blue tunic and dark blue trousers of the dragoons, his stiff shako held ceremoniously under one arm. He did little of the talking, accepting the drink Teresa offered with a polite nod of thanks, seating himself watchfully on a plush chair. O’Brien circled the table, gesturing with his hands as he talked, filling the room with his ebullient, Celtic restlessness.
“It was my mission, Teresa, to convince Governor Amado what an untenable position he is in. The only real force you have is your lancers. And we outnumber them ten to one—”
“Let’s say five to one,” Teresa murmured. “General Kearny has fifteen hundred and fifty-eight men, and sixteen pieces of ordnance.”
Captain Coombs stiffened in surprise, almost spilling his wine. O’Brien turned to him, spreading his hands helplessly, then chuckling.
“I told you, Captain,” he said. He looked at Teresa, still smiling. “I should have known better, Teresa. Even so, you must admit the picture is pretty black.”
“Not at all. You underestimate our militia. With them we have the superior force.”
O’Brien pursed his lips, shook his round head. “Don’t try to bluff, Teresa. I know your situation, and it’s bad. We gave Amado a chance for a graceful capitulation rather than a disgraceful defeat on the field of battle.”
“Do you think fifty thousand dollars will be enough?” she asked.
This time Coombs stood up. O’Brien shook his head. “Is there nothing you don’t know?”
“I know you were a fool to leave the money with Amado.”
“He agreed to abdicate.”
“He might keep his word. On the other hand, if he feels the whim, he might cut your army to pieces in Apache Pass.”
O’Brien smiled. “We know the risk we took. That’s why we come to you. We know the influence you have over Amado.”
“You ask me to give up all I have here.”
“You won’t be giving up anything. You’ll still have your sala.”
“And when you take over, you’ll have to deal with the men in power, the leaders of the political factions?”
“I suppose so. We’ll work with them.”
“Men like Biscara?”
He knew what she meant. “It won’t be that way, Teresa.”
“How else could it be? My alliance with the Palace is the only reason I survive now. Do you think Biscara would let me last a minute if I wasn’t protected?”
He was perspiring. He ran a finger around the inside of his flaring white collar. He circled the table again, frowning. “Put it on the basis of your people, then. They are worse off than they’ve ever been. I know how you’ve fought with Amado over it these last years, but it hasn’t done any good. The whole thing is too deeply entrenched, too rotten at the core. Kearny plans to set up a decent civil government. No graft, no making diligencia, no ricos feasting while the rabble starves. We know it can’t be done overnight, but it’s the concept that counts. You have it in your power to change things, Teresa.”
Long years at the monte table had schooled her to an expressionless face. She looked at the floor, as if coming to a decision. But the decision had already been made. How could she betray her people and sacrifice herself as well? O’Brien’s assurances were hollow. How did she know what kind of a government the Americans would set up here? If men like Ryker were in power it would be as bad as Amado. And yet, if the Americans really believed Amado was abdicating, and marched into Apache Pass….
She took a deep breath. “I suppose you’re right. Resistance would be hopeless.” She looked him full in the eyes. “I’ll work on Amado.”
* * * *
The time was running out now. Teresa had a meeting with Amado the day after O’Brien left. It did not take her long to see that his pompous proclamation of the 8th and his hectic military activities had been as usual a convenient pose. The old caution had taken precedence over his love of pomp and power. He smelled defeat in the air and was preparing a back way out. The fifty thousand dollars O’Brien had bribed him with were probably what had opened the door.
His weak point was the militia. She told him that Captain Uvalde had the muster rolls over two thousand now. Amado sighed disgustedly.
“Armed with pikes and lances and a few old escopetas—”
“What if they had decent guns, and ambushed the Americans in Apache Pass?”
She saw the excited glow come to his eyes for a moment at the thought of it. And she knew it was the key that would hold him here. After he left she put the wheels in motion and within the hour a hundred men were at work between Taos and Albuquerque, trying to uncover the necessary arms. She put up a standing offer of a hundred dollars for any decent gun handed in. The results were bitterly discouraging. Dozens of ancient flintlocks and smoothbore escopetas in execrable condition were presented to the quartermaster in the hopes of obtaining the reward. Only a few Jake Hawkinses and one or two Hall breechloaders showed up in the whole lot.
On the 14th she got a request to visit John Ryker at his store. Amado had ordered all foreigners confined to their homes and Ryker could not visit the sala. He was in the back room, smelling of musty beaver pelts and blackstrap molasses. A single candle dripped on the round deal table and in the shadows outside its circle of light Teresa saw Cimarron Saunders and Vic Jares seated on baled pelts. She took the seat Ryker offered, with her pair of Navajo bodyguards standing at her back. Ryker peered at her closely, from under his black brows.
“I hear you’re offerin’ a hundred dollars for a decent gun.”
“That’s right.”
“How about five hundred Yager rifles?”
At first she didn’t comprehend. Then she remembered the attack on Perea at Pecos, and the guns that had never come to light. As the true purpose of those guns came to her, she felt a little sick. No wonder Ryker had been willing to kill Perea to keep him from finding the weapons. This was Ryker’s big deal. All his other operations were puny beside it. He had been planning it for years, and the scope of it was staggering. He saw the wonder in her face and grinned maliciously.
“That’s right, honey. The Indians never got those Yagers. I saw this coming a long way off. Either Texas or the United States, I didn’t know which, but I knew it would come sooner or later. And I knew Amado couldn’t do anything without guns for his militia. That shipment in 1840 was only one batch. We got Hall breechloaders and Jake Hawkinses and enough powder and lead to blow Kearny out of Apache Pass. I want to know exactly what it would mean to me.”
She realized what he meant. This was a desperate game he played. Even if Amado won, the Americans would sooner or later find out who had betrayed them. They would hang a man like that if they caught him.
Yet she saw what was driving him. He would lose everything by annexation. All he had built was based on the graft and corruption of Amado’s regime. With Amado’s favor gone and a new order in he would be wiped out. An excitement began to pound at her as she realized this was the key she had been searching for.
“You could probably have anything you asked,” she said.
Sweat greased the broad grooves of his broad face. “How about a monopoly on the fur trade in the department of New Mexico?”
She smiled enigmatically. “You have big dreams, Ryker.”
“Amado can do it.”
She nodded. “And he will—for something like this. He’s inspecting Apache Pass now. I’ll meet with him as soon as he comes back. In the meantime, you can get the guns.”
He moved closer. His voice lowered to a husky rumble. “Don’t cross me up, Teresa.” His eyes dropped to his hands, his corded, hairy hands. “I think I’d kill you myself if you crossed me.”
26
On August 15th at eight o’clock in the morning the Army of the West reached Las Vegas, eighty miles east of Sa
nta Fe. General Kearny and his staff accompanied the alcalde of the town to the roof of a one-story building overlooking the plaza. The people pressed in on all sides to hear what Kearny had to say. He held out his hands and in a loud clear voice began to recite his proclamation.
“Mr. Alcalde and People of New Mexico: I have come amongst you by the orders of my government, to take possession of your country and extend over it the laws of the United States. We consider it, and have done so for some time, a part of the territory of the United States. We come amongst you as friends, not as enemies; as protectors, not as conquerors….”
The speech went on, outlining Kearny’s plans for a civilian government. One of those who listened, standing quietly among the staff members in the plaza, was Kelly Morgan.
He had recovered fully now, had regained most of his weight, his old look of restless, animal vitality. But there were marks of his imprisonment that would never die. The twinkle was gone from his eyes and there were lines about his mouth, deep and compressed, robbing it of the earthy humor that had lurked about the edges even when his face was in repose.
Despite his burning desire to join the Army of the West in Kansas, he had been forced to rest at Whitworth’s home in San Antonio for several weeks after his landing at Corpus Christi. Strong enough to travel at last, he had made the long overland journey to the Missouri. Arriving at Fort Leavenworth in June he had signed on as a scout for the First Dragoons.
The march to Santa Fe had followed, a cruel trek through the scorching summer desert and the mountains around Bent’s Fort. But there had been no action up to now. The few small towns they had passed through surrendered without battle.
As General Kearny was concluding his speech, Kelly saw Danny O’Brien ride into the plaza with an escort of dragoons. The trader gaped at Kelly, then forced his horse through the crowd, frowning deeply.
“Man,” O’Brien said vehemently, “how did you get here?” Kelly told him briefly and O’Brien shook his head. “I wish I’d seen you yesterday. Not knowing about you’s been like a knife in Teresa’s back.”
The thought of Teresa went poignantly through Kelly. “She’ll know soon,” he said grimly.
O’Brien frowned, obviously thinking deeply about something. Finally he glanced up at General Kearny, then muttered, “Will you come with me?”
Wonderingly, Kelly trailed the horse to the building. Kearny and his staff descended after he finished speaking. O’Brien dismounted and spoke to the general for a few moments, glancing several times at Kelly. Then he beckoned Kelly to follow and they entered the door. It was a store, smelling of dried apricots and musty dry goods, a dim place of whitewashed walls and narrow windows. Kearny put his back to the counter, studying Kelly with shrewd eyes. Then he said:
“I sent Mr. O’Brien on a confidential mission to Santa Fe to meet with Governor Amado and assess the situation there. Officially, the picture hasn’t changed. But in Mr. O’Brien’s opinion Amado might—under certain circumstances—be willing to capitulate. According to O’Brien there’s only one person left capable of holding things together and stopping us.”
Kelly knew who they meant. He moistened his lips. “Teresa Cavan?”
O’Brien nodded. He twirled his watch chain, watching the bright links flash in the dim light. “You know Teresa’s been the one who kept the balance of power in Santa Fe for years. Part of her strength lies in the army. Anyone who has Colonel Perea has the troops. And Teresa’s the only one he’s loyal to.”
“This spy system’s another dangerous weapon,” Kearny said. “Apparently she knows more about the Army of the West than I do myself.”
Kelly knew. They didn’t have to go down the list. What about the Assembly? Her influence there was as important as control of the army. With Gomez in exile and Biscara out of the capital she had the rest under her thumb. She’d given half the Assembly their seats and had enough against the other half to hang them if they didn’t jump through the hoop.
“All of which leads us to her power over Amado,” O’Brien said. “He wouldn’t be governor if it wasn’t for her, and he knows it. I think she can make him believe almost anything she tells him. But he’s ready to abdicate, Kelly. I saw him yesterday and I’m convinced of it. Teresa’s the only one capable of changing his mind.”
“Will she?”
“We aren’t sure. The one thing we do know is that if she isn’t there to hold Amado—he’ll capitulate.”
“The minute that happens the fight for power begins,” Kearny said. “Everything she’s held together will come apart. It will be Biscara and his Lower River against Perea and the army. It will split the whole town wide open. By the time we get there we won’t have anybody to fight.” The general paused, then said, “We’ve got to be blunt, Morgan. O’Brien tells us this woman is in love with you. Is that right?”
Kelly looked slowly around the circle of their faces. Then he said, huskily, “Damn right.”
“Then, if you reached Santa Fe, say, a day ahead of our army, could you get her out of there?”
Kelly did not answer. His blunt cheekbones seemed to push against the prairie-burnt skin of his cheeks till they shone like a drumhead. The only sound in the room was the husky rasp of his breathing. Then O’Brien began to twirl his watch chain again.
“In other words, Teresa Cavan holds the key to Santa Fe.” The Irishman smiled at Kelly. “And you hold the key to Teresa Cavan.”
27
On the evening of August 17th Governor Amado was due back from Apache Pass. Late that afternoon Pepita informed Teresa that Don Augustín Gomez requested an audience. She told Pepita to take him to the now famous room off the patio. He was seated in Amado’s great leather chair by the table when Teresa went in, savoring the bouquet of the governor’s private brandy. He rose, assayed a courtly bow. He was heavier, his hair almost white, the veins a purple latticework in his doughy jowls. She closed the door softly, smiling, watchful.
“A truce talk, Augustín?”
He sighed. “I am getting too old to carry the burden of battle, Teresa. How can a man be so astute in some ways and so stupid in others?”
“Perhaps when he wants something very much, Augustín, he becomes blind.”
“I suppose that was it. I was naïve as a child. But at last I have seen the sneer behind their smile. The gente fina still think me a pig. I know now they are merely using me.”
“So now, having gained their trust, you betray it.”
Some of the old cynicism returned to his faded eyes. “You and I always understood each other. I am getting too old to ask much. Merely that you find some minor post for me, perhaps customs inspector at Taos, with which I can regain the dignity and respect an old man should have.”
“And in return?”
“What I have is of utmost importance to you.”
She studied his unhealthy, parchment face, his lips graying with senility. Was she really dealing with an old man too tired to fight any longer? Or was he setting another trap? It didn’t matter. She could lose nothing by talk.
“It’s a deal.”
His eyes squinted with strain. He rose, hands locked together. His gray lips trembled as he told her.
O’Brien’s true mission had not been completely hidden, Gomez said. Rumors were already circulating that Amado had accepted a bribe from the United States to capitulate. Whatever Biscara’s politics, he had a hatred of the gringos and would do anything to keep them out. But the Army of the West was too close, and things would be in too chaotic a condition for him to do any good if he waited any longer for Amado to step down. The whole thing was a culmination of Biscara’s long struggle for power.
He had such a great fear of Teresa’s spy system that he knew he could not trust any hired assassins, or even any of his own people. It had all been done within the inner circle of his trusted conspirators. Gomez had
not yet shown Biscara any of his resentment or disillusionment; with his old Machiavellian tendencies he had convinced Biscara of his allegiance, waiting for the moment when something would be put into his hands which he could turn to his own gain. So he was one of the four in the plot, along with Biscara, Captain Uvalde, and Valdez.
They were each dead shots, and each stationed in a building at one of the four corners of the plaza. When Amado returned from Apache Pass, he could not fail to pass one of them. His death was certain. And as soon as he died, the machinery of the Lower River would go into action, putting Biscara in his place, and he would hold the town against the Yankees he hated.
As soon as Gomez finished, she grasped his wrist tight. “Augustín, if you are telling the truth, you will stay here till it’s over.”
He nodded, hand trembling. She pulled her shawl about her bare shoulders and hurried out. She told one of her Navajos to watch Gomez and stop him if he tried to go out. Then she went into the sala to get Gato. Before she could tell him what was happening there was a clatter of accouterments outside and the doorman ushered in Colonel Perea. His blue coat and mitaja leggings were filmed with dust, his face haggard and tired-looking.
“Hilario,” she called, sharply. “You aren’t with the governor?”
He rubbed red-rimmed eyes. “He sent me ahead to clear the plaza and make things safe. He’s about a mile behind.”
She hurried to him. There was no time for privacy. In a tense mutter she told him of the plot.
“You’ve got to get to them,” she said. “Uvalde has rented one of the private gambling rooms at La Fonda. Biscara’s supposedly making a friendly visit to the Arballos. Their sitting-room window looks out on the plaza.”
He shook his head. “I almost think it would be best to let them go through with it. You should have seen him this morning. A pig, a pompous pig. He is crazy with power. He had Crespin Vigil sent to La Garita for neglecting a salute. He knows nothing of engineering. The defense he plans will get us wiped out. I think he would cheerfully suffer that if it meant more fame for him.”
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