Mariana's Knight

by W. Michael Farmer

  The sky was just getting gray when a cowboy rode up out of the trees and onto the road, his horse kicking up little puffs of dust as he cantered toward Lincoln. Two others soon caught up with him. We waited another half hour as the day became steadily brighter, but there were no more sounds from across the road.

  Yellow Boy rose in a half crouch and motioned for Rufus and me to follow. He was hard to see in the weak light as he moved from juniper to juniper, then across the road. Birds began to call from the bushes, as it got lighter.

  When we were across the road and well into the trees, it was easy to see a bright, flickering glow from the fire, but we heard nothing. Creeping closer, a hundred yards, seventy-five, fifty, Yellow Boy finally stopped, kneeled on one knee in a clump of grass, and motioned us to stop. Rufus was about five yards to his left, and I was just to the left of Rufus. A nice fire was burning under a big cottonwood tree, and there was a black coffeepot sitting on a couple of flat rocks. All the bedrolls around the fire, except Bentene’s, were empty. Bentene’s horse was tied to a picket rope. A few minutes passed, and I saw the blanket from Bentene’s bedroll fly up, and he stood upright. He stretched, yawned, and scratched himself.

  It was hard to get my breath. Then I remembered what Rufus had told me about being cold and calculating, and I tried to force myself to be that way. I realized we hadn’t discussed a plan, so I assumed Rufus or Yellow Boy had one.

  Bentene reached down for his hat, turned away from the fire, and staggered a couple of steps before he hiked a leg and let a tremendous fart, followed by a giggle. Then he wandered into the shadows, and soon we heard water splashing on the rocks.

  I heard Yellow Boy bring the Henry to full cock, but in that dim light, I never saw him move, never even saw his chest rise or fall, as he stared toward Bentene like a wolf waiting to pounce on a rabbit. Rufus was a statue, too.

  Soon Bentene reappeared back in the firelight. He picked up his blanket, threw it over his shoulders, and moved up against the big cottonwood. Easing himself down against it and stretching his legs out, he yawned again. He pulled the blanket over his shoulders, then pulled his hat down over his eyes to block out light after the sun was up. He didn’t move for a couple of minutes. Then I heard a little snore.

  I was ready to move closer and looked toward Yellow Boy for some sign to creep forward. He didn’t move but continued to stare at Bentene. The Henry came up in one smooth motion. I could see the reflection of the fire in the brass receiver. Yellow Boy sighted down the barrel for an instant before pulling the trigger. The bright flash from the end of the barrel momentarily blinded me, and its thunder echoed up and down the little canyon, making my ears ring.

  Yellow Boy was up and running toward the fire through the smoke of his shot, levering a new round into the chamber. Keeping the stock against his shoulder, he visually swept the area around the fire for anyone we had missed as he ran.

  Rufus paused for half a heartbeat, staring toward the camp for any movement. Then, he, too, was running toward the fire, crouched over his rifle and ready to shoot if anything moved.

  I was frozen in place. It was like a dream. I could see every move they made in slow motion. The ringing in my ears disappeared, and I realized I was being left behind as Yellow Boy and Rufus ran toward the fire. Then I started running, too. Yellow Boy jumped the fire and stood waiting with his rifle still shouldered as he stared at Bentene, not six feet from him. In a few moments, the Henry came off his shoulder.

  Rufus said in a hot whisper, “Help me find Lil’ David, and then let’s git ’fore anybody else shows.”

  Yellow Boy nodded and started poking around the bedrolls with the barrel of the Henry. I ran up, breathing hard, and stopped to stare at Bentene. He looked as though he was still sleeping except there was a greasy-looking, perfectly round hole in the hat’s headband where it crossed the bridge of his nose. I could see the firelight reflecting off dark liquid running down the bark of the tree, and there was a strong smell of fresh feces. I suddenly felt sick and wanted to vomit. Rufus walked up beside me and put his hand on my shoulder. “That there is justice. Take a good look at it. Just the way it oughta be, swift and clean. No jawin’ about nothin’. Only thing wrong with this is that the son of a bitch never felt a damn thing, didn’t suffer like yore daddy did.” Rufus turned and spat in the fire. “Damned son of a bitch. I hope he’s a-burnin’ in hell right now.”

  I swallowed several times to keep from vomiting and asked, “Rufus, what’s that smell?”

  “Man dies like that, his bowels usually turn loose and they’s blood and brains blowed against the bark of that cottonwood.”

  I shook my head and said, “No, Rufus. I mean that other smell sort of like rotten meat.”

  Rufus took his hat off, wiped his forehead with his handkerchief, sighed and said, “That there is the smell of death. Most men never notice it above the rest.”

  Just as we turned to look for Little David, Yellow Boy said, “Here, Shoots Today Kills Tomorrow.” He held up a beautifully finished saddle scabbard, pulled the Sharps halfway out of it, and handed it to Rufus.

  Rufus grinned with delight and said, “I shore am glad to have ye back, Lil’ David.” He pulled the rifle out of the scabbard and admired it as some men admire a beautiful woman. Then he shoved the Sharps deep into the scabbard and said, “Now, let’s git.”

  Yellow Boy motioned us back up the ridge. “You and Hombrecito go now. I wipe out tracks. We ride pronto.”

  Rufus and I ran crouched over so we’d be harder to see in the morning light. Yellow Boy took some twigs from the firewood and lightly brushed away our tracks as he backed up, moving toward the road.

  Rufus and I tried to step on big rocks as we moved up the ridge toward the trees where we’d tied the horses and mules. Yellow Boy took his time and did a thorough job on our tracks. No tracker would be aware we were there unless they found where we had tied our animals, and that wasn’t likely. We were saddled and heading down the back side of the ridge as the sun rose over the mountains and the shadows began falling away from the canyon walls.

  CHAPTER 38

  A DEATH WITHOUT HONOR

  We were back in our camp on the ridges of the Sierra Blanca by early afternoon. I was so tired and emotionally drained I was ready to fall off Midnight. Yellow Boy and Rufus didn’t move too fast, either. We took care of the stock and ate, and then Yellow Boy and Rufus had a smoke, but I lay down and fell into a deep sleep. I dreamed about Daddy’s murder again and saw Bentene sitting nearby, watching him die. I wanted to yell obscenities at him, then the dream turned, and I was standing in front of Bentene after Yellow Boy had shot him. Suddenly, he reached up, lifted his hat, and opened his eyes. He’d sprouted a new eyeball in the bullet hole.

  I must have yelled or moaned because Rufus shook me until I awakened, startled and thirsty.

  “You have a bad dream, Henry?” he asked.

  “Yes, sir,” I said, and I told them about my dream.

  Rufus wiggled his nose to pull his glasses up. “Well, you ain’t got to worry about Bentene no more. We took care of that son of a bitch this mornin’.”

  It was dark, and the stars were out. I went to the bushes to relieve myself, got a drink from the spring, and walked back to the fire, where Rufus and Yellow Boy were talking about how to get to Stone and Tally. When I sat down, I turned to Yellow Boy. “Can I ask you a question?”

  He was stretched out, looking up at the stars, and contentedly puffing a cigar. “Hmmm. Que es, Hombrecito? I will answer.”

  “I’m glad Bentene is dead, but why did you just shoot him between the eyes? He never knew who killed him, and he didn’t suffer or have time to think about what he’d done. Shouldn’t we have told him? Shouldn’t he have suffered? Was there any honor in killing him that way?”

  Yellow Boy said nothing for a while. He just puffed on that cigar and watched the stars. Finally he said, “You ask many questions, Hombrecito. Sí, Bentene died quick. He didn’t know who kills him or w
hy. Bentene was weak. He no die like a warrior. I no give him honor of good death, so he no suffer.” He held up his palm and showed the scar left by the knife and said, “You are my blood. Do you believe this?”

  I held up my hand to show my scar and nodded. “Yes, sir, I’m your blood. I believe it.”

  “Though still boy, you man in heart, warrior in heart. Still much to learn before killing men who murdered su padre. I take your part. I kill. I help you kill. This I must do. It is the way of my people. Men who take life from my family must die. This I do as your blood. Comprende?”

  I nodded. I’d never thought of dying slowly as an honor. If it was, then Bentene died as he should have, without honor, alive one second and dead the next.

  Yellow Boy touched my arm and said, “To speak with man before he dies gives nada (nothing). Bentene bothers you no mas. He kills men in desert no mas. He drinks burning water no mas. He lays with women no mas. It is enough por Bentene. It is what he deserved. I speak no more of this dead man. Comprende?”

  I gave a quick nod and looked over to Rufus, who put two fingers to his lips and moved them away in a wave as he said, “Yellow Boy speaks true.”

  “What will we do about Stone and Tally?” I asked.

  Rufus said, “Here’s the plan: Tomorrow we’ll ride across the reservation, using a trail ’round by Cloudcroft and over to the Eyebrow Trail that leads down into Dog Canyon. Dog Canyon’s where ol’ Frenchy Rochas used to live till he was murdered back in the winter of ’ninety-five. Ain’t nobody much been back in there since.”

  I’d heard Rufus speak of the place in his stories and knew the Apaches used to sucker their enemies into chasing them up the Eyebrow, then roll rocks down on them to knock them off the trail down into a two-thousand-foot drop.

  Rufus said, “I reckin that there trail climbs nearly a mile. They’s real good water in there and plenty of places to set up a ambush with good close lines of fire.”

  I shifted my weight on the blanket I was sitting on and asked, “Do you reckon Stone knows Bentene’s been shot yet?”

  “Yep, and I reckon he’s a-startin’ to sweat a little, what with the long-range bullet Yellow Boy put through his hat and all. It coulda been anybody killed Bentene. Stone probably thinks we lit out fer Mexico ’cause we was gone when he come to git us, so he’ll think it ain’t us he’s got to be worried about.”

  I smiled and said, “That gives us an advantage, then.”

  Rufus spat into the fire and said, “It might, but I want him to know who’s after him. I figger he may come down to Alamogordo a day early to sniff around and try to find out who mighta killed Bentene. Or maybe he jest don’t give a damn and will come on the day he planned.”

  I scratched my head, unable to follow Rufus, since we’d taken some trouble to make Stone think we’d gone to Mexico. “Why do you want him to know we’re after him?”

  “Just ’cause it’ll make him madder’n hell. That’s sure to cloud his judgment.” Rufus leaned closer to me and said, “When he steps off that train in Alamogordo, we’re a-gonna make sure he sees us. We’ll just ride along the road outta town like we don’t have a care in the world. He’ll send somebody to follow us and find out where we’re a-campin’, and then he and Tally will come after us.”

  Suddenly, I saw what Rufus had in mind. I said, “We’ll ride back to Dog Canyon and set up a little surprise party for ’em.”

  Rufus laughed and clapped me on the back. “That’s right, and if we can’t kill ’em and they have help come, then we’ll ride up the Eyebrow and hope they foller. If they do, we’ll take care of ’em just like the Mescaleros used to wipe out people that chased ’em.”

  At first, I liked the plan, but then I frowned and asked, “What if they don’t fall for it?”

  “If they don’t foller, then we’ll just have to wait to catch ’em again. It might be a long wait, too, Henry. I ’spect we’ll have to hide out with Yellow Boy’s people down to Mexico fer a while in that case.”

  Yellow Boy, who had been smoking and staring off at the sky as if he wasn’t even paying attention, said, “I cover you from off road when we ride back to Dog Canyon from Alamogordo. I won’t let them kill you before we set trap.”

  By now, the excitement of the whole plan had set my heart to beating faster. I hoped Yellow Boy wouldn’t have to shoot them that way because it would spoil my chance to personally set things right for Daddy. I looked over at Rufus, who was stroking his beard, apparently in deep thought.

  After a moment, Rufus said, “Course if they make it to Frenchy’s shack when we bushwhack ’em, it could be a long standoff, but I think it’s a risk worth takin’. Whadaya think, Henry?”

  I sat there for a moment trying to see how the whole setup would work, and then said, “Rufus, will you give me another chance to take Stone and Tally?”

  “Yes, sir. I believe ye’ll drop Stone this time, but they’s no shore thing when it comes to killin’. We might be the ones gits kilt.”

  I clenched my fist and I said, “I don’t care. Just so I get another chance at Stone and Tally.”

  Rufus touched my shoulder and said, “Good. Looks like ye’re ’bout three or four days from gettin’ some justice fer yore daddy.”

  “I’m counting on it.”

  Next morning, after eating and cleanup chores, Rufus tossed me the scabbard with Lil’ David. “How ’bout cleaning him up, Henry?”

  I checked it over, thrilled to simply hold this long-lost treasure again. The saddle scabbard Bentene had put it in had pockets on the side for cartridges and cleaning gear. I sighted down the barrel and dry fired it a couple of times, dropping the breech each time. Giving it back to Rufus, I said, “I don’t think they ever fired it. It’s clean, and the trigger pull is still the same.”

  “Hmmph,” he grunted. “Well, Henry, this here seventy-three Winchester works just fine fer me. Why don’t ye take Lil’ David and use it on this here hunt, unless I need to swap with ye?”

  Rufus laughed at the expression on my face. I’m sure it was one of surprise and pure joy. “Yes, sir,” I said with a big smile. I put it with the things Rufus wanted me to carry on Midnight.

  “Where’s Yellow Boy?” I asked.

  “Aw, he rode down to Mescalero to visit his wife fer a while. He’ll be back later today ’fore we’re ready to go. Here, come help me slice up this haunch of venison and get these here supplies ready to go.”

  We worked through the morning and had everything set to travel by mid-afternoon. When Rufus gave me two hundred rounds to carry for Lil’ David, I said, “Rufus, that’s a lot. We’re not going to war.”

  He looked back at me with just a crack of a smile and said, “Oh, yes, we are. Here, maybe ye’d better take another hundred rounds now that I think about it.” I took the extra cartridges, never believing we’d use anywhere near that many.

  Yellow Boy appeared just as we finished eating an early supper. Rufus offered him some meat and beans, but he said, “Mi mujer, she feeds her man. We travel now?”

  Rufus nodded. “Just as soon as we get this here pot washed and the animals saddled and loaded.”

  Yellow Boy shrugged his shoulders. “Hmmph. I smoke by fire and wait.”

  In half an hour, we were moving down the trail. We had about three hours of daylight left, and Yellow Boy set us a good pace over the ridges and canyons. After swinging around the little village of Cloudcroft, he followed a thin trail through tall pines along the western edge of the Sacramentos. We rode until he stopped at a place where the trail appeared to drop off into a steep, black hole.

  Yellow Boy spoke softly to Rufus and me. “Here trail into Dog Canyon. Rest horses and mules now till daylight. Then we go.” He pulled his pony off the trail a few yards and unsaddled, hobbled it to graze, and then sat down with his back against a tree. Rufus and I unloaded the horses and mules and made ourselves comfortable near Yellow Boy. I was too excited to sleep, so I took the first watch. By the time I shook Rufus awake, I was ready to sleep
.

  CHAPTER 39

  THE EYEBROW

  I woke to the singing of thousands of birds down in the canyon, as sunlight cast dusty beams through the shadows of the trees. Rufus and Yellow Boy were already up, saddling the animals and putting the supplies on Elmer’s rig. Throwing off my blanket, I walked over to the opening in the trees a few yards away to relieve myself.

  The opening was at a cliff’s edge that just seemed to roll off into space, and the view of the other side, the basin flats, the far Organs, and White Sands took my breath. The Organs must have been fifty miles away. They were clear as a close-up photograph. The view across to the south-side cliffs made my heart stop. They looked like towering vertical walls made from pillars of stone stacked together without a toehold of any kind for man or beast. The treetops at the bottom of the canyon looked the size of pinheads.

  The cliffs on the south side had rust reds, soft pinks, an occasional dark green splotch from bushes that managed toeholds in the stone faces, and there were soft brown beiges and dark, almost-purple colors in some places. They were spectacularly beautiful. Their sheer height and vertical reach . . . I just couldn’t believe there was any kind of trail down those walls. I turned back, the sound of my heart pounding in my ears. I wasn’t afraid of heights, but the Eyebrow around those walls was too much. What was Yellow Boy expecting us to do? Go down those walls on a rope?

  Rufus laughed when he saw me. “Henry, did ye see a ghost? Ye’re as pale as milk. What’s the matter?”

  I swallowed to keep the contents of my stomach down and asked, “Rufus have you been down the Eyebrow before? I don’t see how we can ride or even climb down those walls yonder.”