by Easy Jackson
Tennie’s steps slowed. “I’m sorry that happened to you.”
“It was many, many years later that I found my sister. She had made her way to this village.”
The handsomeness of both brother and sister suddenly struck her. “Lupe is your sister, isn’t she?”
“Yes, and I am once again trying to rescue her.”
Tennie took a deep breath but kept walking in step with the priest. “And the men who are coming? Are they Mexican or Indian or white?”
“Mostly Mexican, some with more Indian blood than others. We Mexicans are a mixture of Spanish and Indian, you understand,” the priest said. “A few of the villagers traveled to Waco to beg the Anglo sheriff for help, but he refused to come.”
After listening to Rusty’s and Lucas’s description of him, Tennie could believe it. It was probably not in his jurisdiction, and he had not bothered to tell the men to seek out the U.S. marshal or approach the rangers.
“I am sorry for that, too,” Tennie said.
“The problem is not race or color, Mrs. Granger. The problem is sin.”
“Then I hope we are not sinning by trying to kill somebody before they kill us,” Tennie said.
“To save a child or let it be killed? I am willing to take that risk.”
The priest moved ahead, and Tennie lagged, turning to look at Hawkshaw. Badger and his friends had gone for his horse so he would not have to walk back. They, along with Rusty and Lucas, surrounded him. Tennie wondered if he would be able to stand the attention and closeness until they reached the village.
* * *
She slept fitfully outside with the children, in agony that something might go wrong. In the few hours before dawn, she fell into a deep sleep, dreaming of the Indian attack that happened on her way to Texas. She had found herself under a wagon next to an old scout, handing him ammunition as he fired his rifle to protect them. In her dream, she knew she would be doing the same thing the next day.
* * *
In the morning, everyone arose early. They would be hiding in the cliffs of the little canyon to wait in the sun all day, perhaps for many days, if necessary.
Before she left, she begged Father Francisco to stay with Rusty and Lucas. “They can handle firearms. That part I’m not worried about. But they are inexperienced and will put their heads up when they should stay down. It appears Mr. Hawkshaw does not trust anyone but me to act as his legs, and I must stay with him in case of an emergency.”
The priest patted her arm and smiled at her indulgently. “Never fear, dear lady. I will be on that end of the canyon anyway to make sure our lookouts do not show themselves or get so distracted they forget to do their duty.” He paused for a moment before asking, “Señor Hawkshaw avoids human contact, does he not?”
Tennie nodded. “Yes.” It did not seem necessary to add more.
“Yet, he has asked me to send some men up to his lookout point to kill any snakes that might be hiding among the rocks because you are deathly afraid of snakes.”
Tennie nodded. “I came close to losing an arm, at the least, with a snakebite once. A drunken Indian saved my life. Mr. Hawkshaw’s main concern is that I not get hysterical near him if I see one, not that I get bit.”
The priest laughed. “Perhaps, but the men are also clearing away snakes from the area where your stepsons will be staying.”
“You’ve been very kind, Father,” Tennie said, and she felt herself grow quite calm.
Because of his leg, Hawkshaw rode his horse as high as he could go, with Badger and his friends following with packhorses. The women had prepared skins of water, baskets of food, and anything else they could think of that might make their vigil more comfortable.
When Badger left with the horses, Hawkshaw went over and over with Tennie which cartridges went into which firearm and how to load them. “Yesterday, you were a wreck with worry. Why are you so steady today?”
Tennie stared at him. “Who knows that we were not brought here for this purpose? If that be the case, then the outcome, too, will be in God’s hands, not ours. All that is required of me is to do my best.”
Hawkshaw shook his head. “If you get hysterical, I cannot promise you that I won’t smack you so hard you fall backwards, hitting your head on a rock and dying.”
“I accept that might happen,” Tennie said. “I hope it doesn’t.”
“There is something else I haven’t told you,” Hawkshaw said.
CHAPTER 11
Tennie continued to stare at Hawkshaw. He intended on admitting something he hadn’t wanted to; she was sure of that.
“We don’t have enough powder to do real damage,” he said. “We have rigged the explosions so that when one goes off, it triggers another and another down the line. What we are trying to do is create mass confusion that will allow us time to shoot them with our guns. If I get shot, you must take the rifle and kill them.”
Tennie nodded. “You keep saying ‘we.’ Does that mean the boys understand this?’
Hawkshaw nodded. “We didn’t tell you earlier for fear of worrying you too much. I’m telling you now so you know if you do not shoot as many of these men as possible, you will be putting your stepsons in greater danger.”
“Are you going to give me a gun so I can fire?”
“No, I am a faster and better shot. It will work smoother if you are here to reload for me.”
“All right,” Tennie agreed.
“We’ll just have to wait,” Hawkshaw said.
Tennie had plenty of practice in waiting. Waiting as a child for the men in agony at the hospital to either get better or develop lung fever and die. Waiting for her father to come home from the war. Waiting at the orphanage for the abuse to stop. Waiting for something to happen that would put her in a different situation. Waiting for saloon strongarms to bring her prisoners. Waiting for prisoners to calm down and fall asleep. Waiting for Wash Jones.
Now without Lupe and seemingly all the time in the world to discuss anything they wanted, Tennie and Hawkshaw did not speak.
A howling dog broke the silence.
“I hear a dog barking,” Tennie said. “I didn’t see any dogs in the village.”
“That’s our signal,” Hawkshaw said, lying down on the rocks and steadying his rifle. “Get down and be ready to reload. Remember to put the right cartridges in the rifle or you will have made it useless.”
Tennie could hear the beating sound of many hooves. Unable to stop herself, she peeked over the rock she hid behind. At least thirty-five men rode on ragged horses, dressed in cheap white cotton that seemed covered with every kind of gun and knife imaginable. Under their sombreros, the brutish lines on their faces told of every possible degeneracy. After a split-second glance, Tennie fell back to her place, looking at the cartridges and praying she would not get them mixed up.
The buried bombs exploded just as Hawkshaw had said they would, creating deafening roars as the gravel, shards of metal, and glass spewed everywhere. He rose and fired so rapidly, it seemed that only seconds passed before he had thrown the rifle down and was reaching for a pistol. Tennie grabbed the rifle and reloaded it as fast as she could. He threw the gun down, taking the rifle from her hands, and she did the same with the pistol.
He had not described the sounds of carnage, of men and horses screaming in pain. On one level, her fingers flew, only occasionally fumbling, knowing she could not pause. On another level, she listened for Rusty’s and Lucas’s gunfire to her right, for as long as she heard it, they were alive.
At times, Hawkshaw was faster than she was. He would take another pistol because she wasn’t ready, and every one of them took different cartridges. After the first wild confusion of bombs exploding, the bandits began to fire back, and as Tennie reloaded, bullets and splintered rocks ricocheted around them. Hawkshaw moved like a machine, firing round after round with a speed that left the guns he was using smoking so hot, they burned in Tennie’s hands when she took them to reload. If he had shown any weakness at all,
she realized she would have faltered. But he did not, and she kept up with him as best she could.
Was it three minutes or was it an hour? When the firing stopped, she stared at him, her fingers still trying to place a cartridge in his rifle. He crouched, regarding the scene below, but Tennie was afraid to look. A noise came from her right, and Rusty and Lucas bounded toward her, surrounding her and hugging her as tightly as they could. They were trying hard not to cry. She could only stare at them. Father Francisco followed, crossing himself and mumbling prayers.
“Don’t look, Miss Tennie,” Rusty said, his arms hugging her shoulders.
Lucas had his arms around her waist, hiding his face in her bosom. “Mr. Gid didn’t tell us it would be like this.”
Tennie hugged them back, overcome with gratitude that they had not been hurt. Even though they were upset, she could feel a thrill running through them. She did not share their blood rush; she felt only numbness.
Hawkshaw ignored them, trying to distance himself from such an obvious display of excitement and sentiment.
“Badger . . .” Tennie began.
Rusty and Lucas jumped up. “We’ll go find him.” They turned to Hawkshaw. “We’ll bring your horse, Mr. Hawkshaw.”
Hawkshaw nodded and rested his back against a rock, shutting his eyes. He did not see the boys passing Lupe on their way down. She stopped at the top to stare at Hawkshaw. Father Francisco spoke to her, and taking her by the arm, led her downward to the village.
Tennie followed Hawkshaw’s example and shut her eyes.
The boys brought horses as far as they could. Hawkshaw allowed Rusty to help him down the rocks. Tennie knew if she dared touch him, he would slap her hand and tell her to get away for fear she might burst into a welter of tears next to him. When they reached the horses, Rusty stood slightly back, allowing Hawkshaw to get on his horse by himself. Lucas helped her onto hers, making her feel grateful she was not a man and didn’t have to prove anything.
On the way down, Tennie avoided looking into the floor of the canyon. When they drew closer to the village, she could see horses with bloody legs and barrels wandering around, some of them already eating grass and oblivious to everything else.
“Don’t worry, Miss Tennie,” Rusty said. “The villagers will take care of the horses.”
She nodded. They stopped at Lupe’s arbor, and Hawkshaw instructed the boys to keep their horses close. Father Francisco rushed to them and looked about to give Hawkshaw’s hand a vigorous shake.
Hawkshaw circumvented him with a cold look in his eyes. “We’ll be leaving as soon as most of the bodies are out of the way. We’d appreciate it if you would have one of our horses packed with food and water.”
The priest looked slightly taken aback. “Of course, Señor Hawkshaw, but you are welcome to stay as long as you like.”
Hawkshaw shook his head. “No, we are leaving today.”
Tennie didn’t say anything, although she knew it would be better for him to stay off his leg for another week at least.
At the moment, the villagers were intent on coping with the dead. If any of the bandits had survived, their reprieve would be short-lived in the hands of a vengeful mob, and Father Francisco probably knew it would be useless to try to stop them. But when they finished with their gory tasks, they would want to have a celebration and shower Hawkshaw with unwanted attention.
Lupe had disappeared. While Tennie waited, she went inside Lupe’s house and removed her lace-covered petticoat, folding it carefully and placing under Lupe’s pillow.
Hawkshaw refused to take Ozzie’s old mare with them and told Father Francisco anyone who wanted her could have her. When the rest of their horses were ready, and the dead bodies of men and horses had been stripped and thrown into a communal grave some distance away, they made preparations to leave, arrangements that put an end to the numbness Tennie had been feeling.
“What’s the fastest way to Waco?” Hawkshaw asked the father.
“Follow the creek, señor,” the priest said. “It will lead you to the Brazos, and the Brazos will lead you to Waco.”
“Much obliged,” Hawkshaw said.
Father Francisco left Hawkshaw and took Tennie by the hands. “Thank you, Mrs. Granger.”
“I hope we meet again one day, Father,” she said.
He drew closer, smiling gently and staring into her face. “May I tell you something, Mrs. Granger?” he said so low his voice was almost a whisper.
“Of course,” she replied.
“When I look at you, it makes me wish I was not a priest, that I was a full man once again.”
She smiled and felt her face blushing. “Thank you.”
She got onto her rented horse. The children surrounded her, touching her legs lightly to say good-bye. She felt in her pocket and brought out her comb, handing it to one of the girls with a smile and making a circular motion with her finger to indicate it was for all of them. As she picked up the reins and was about to move forward in the saddle, a little girl ran up to her and thrust a porcupine comb in her hand.
Tennie grinned, kissed it, and called, “Gracias!” waving good-bye.
“Adios!” they cried as they left. “Good-bye, Father Francisco!”
A herd of children crying “adios” followed them for a good while before turning back. When Tennie looked over her shoulder, Father Francisco was still watching them. She raised her hand to him, and he held up his in return.
She realized that, given Hawkshaw’s condition, it was going to be a slow ride.
As they approached the creek, Hawkshaw began to question her as the horses made an unhurried and steady plod to the path that would lead them to Waco. “What were you giggling about with that priest?”
“I was not giggling,” Tennie said. “Just smiling.”
“Humph,” he grunted. “Mexican men can charm the birds off trees and then turn around and beat their women without batting an eyelash.”
“Oh, shut up. Father Francisco wouldn’t beat a fly. You broke Lupe’s heart back there. You know that?”
“You’re awful forgiving of someone who tried to kill you,” Hawkshaw said.
“She wouldn’t have really killed me,” Tennie said. “Maybe put a scar or two on my face, but not kill me.”
Hawkshaw didn’t laugh out loud, but he smirked with the corners of his lips curving upward. They crossed the creek to follow the trail, but when Hawkshaw said he wanted to return to their old camp for nightfall, the rest of them agreed. Tennie glanced at the clothes he wore, thinking of the weight he had lost.
She noticed that his watch fob was missing. “Where is your gold watch?”
He gave her a cool look. “Next to the lace petticoat you left under Lupe’s pillow.”
Tennie grinned but did not tease him about it. She joined the boys, still full of talk about the fight. She supposed they would be talking about it the rest of their lives.
They found their old lean-to and replaced the logs that had been taken from it. With the sun going down in the trees, they made a campfire. None of them were hungry, but the boys were too excited to sleep and wanted to stay up talking. Hawkshaw lay against his saddle, exhausted, letting the boys and Tennie tend to everything. She was so happy to be free from the constraints she had been under, she was almost giddy.
Noises coming from the trees and brushy growth behind them put an end to their exultant reflections. Tennie let the log she was about to put in the fire drop. Hawkshaw rose, pistol in hand. Rusty picked up his rifle. Badger drew closer to Lucas. More noises came.
In the fading light, Tennie made out three riders, one of them wearing a familiar gray suit under a Stetson. “Lafayette!” she cried and raced toward him.
He dismounted his dark bay, grabbing her and holding her close. “Tennie, Tennie, thank God,” he whispered in her ears, kissing her hair.
She returned his hugs and leaned back to smile. Shorty rode toward them on a sturdy little strawberry roan, with Gid behind him on a brown horse wit
h a chest the size of a pickle barrel.
Lafayette looked her up and down, and Tennie suddenly realized how truly tattered her appearance was. A cloud came over his face, and he turned to stare at Hawkshaw, whose arm hung down, the pistol limp in his hand.
“You bastard!” Lafayette yelled. He pushed Tennie aside and drew his pistol.
“No!” Tennie screamed, grabbing his arm. “No, he saved us.”
Lafayette stood with gun in hand, shaking with fury. Hawkshaw made no move against him. As Tennie continued to entreat him, Lafayette reluctantly put the pistol back into his holster. Hawkshaw slowly did the same.
“What has happened?” Lafayette said.
“Get off your horses,” Tennie told the other men. “Come to the fire, Lafayette, and let us explain.”
But it was she who had to clarify their odd situation. For once, she did not have to chide her stepsons about interrupting. Lafayette’s unexpected rage had silenced them. Hawkshaw did not offer a word of explanation.
By the time her story wound down, darkness had come. Lucas grew bold and asked how they had found them.
Lafayette, still distraught and trying to digest everything, told them. “Every man in the countryside is searching for Tennie. We joined the others east of Waco but were getting nowhere. Someone happened to mention that three boys had been inquiring about the old Milton place. As soon as we heard the name Milton, we knew.
“We couldn’t find anyone at their farm. We were about to give up when Shorty found a scrap of Tennie’s dress caught on some brush, and we realized she had probably been trying to escape.”
Shorty and Gid had been throwing sharp looks in Hawkshaw’s direction ever since they’d arrived with Lafayette, but they let him do the talking.
“We thought we heard something and felt a faint rumble beneath our feet,” Lafayette said. “Gid said he thought it was an explosion. That put the boys immediately to mind, so we followed the direction we thought it had come from.”
“And Wash?” Tennie asked. “Have you heard from Wash?”
Lafayette paused to exchange glances with Shorty and Gid. “No, we haven’t heard anything.”